Stranger in my Arms (16 page)

She stepped out of them at the same time she repeated his action when she unbuttoned his shirt; a minute later, both stood nude in the middle of the bedroom in an apartment dating back to the 13th century.

Hand in hand, they made their way to the antique bed, floating down to the crisp, ironed sheets. She wanted Merrick, craved him because she was ovulating.

Her body felt heavy, like ripened fruit waiting to be picked. Her breasts were tender and she couldn't control the spasmodic trembling between her legs.

“Hurry,” she pleaded as he slipped on a condom.

Merrick knew this joining would not become the unhurried, leisurely lovemaking he was used to sharing with Alex. Her quick, shallow breathing, the lines of tension on her face and the bite of her fingernails on his biceps urged him to follow her command.

There was no foreplay as he entered her in one, sure swift thrust. Her urgency was transferred to him and he rode her like a man possessed by invisible spirits whose intent was to swallow him whole.

Her hot flesh pulsed around his sex, squeezing tighter and tighter. Every muscle, nerve and tendon in his body screamed for release. The sound of his runaway heart was that of a galloping horse as he struggled not to release his passion—not yet. It was too quick.

Alex's raw sensuousness lifted him beyond himself, her fire spreading to him, and he lost it; he lost himself in a fiery downpour of uncontrolled passion in which he experienced
la petite mort
for the first time in his life.

Flames of fire heated the blood in Alex's veins as she surrendered all she was and had to the man who'd taken her to unknown heights of passion. Their shared moment of ecstasy ended, Alex too emotion-filled to speak.

They lay together, entwined, the burning memory of their first day in Venice imprinted in their memory forever.

 

“Walk faster, Merrick.” Alex, a vision in white, pulled Merrick along with her as she turned down an alley.

He smiled. She was like a child in FAO Schwarz at Christmastime. The white sundress with an empire waist and tiny pleated skirt that ended at her knees made her appear younger, virginal. He hadn't been the one to claim her innocence, but he could've been when he thought about the first time he'd made love to her. It was obvious she had only experienced conventional lovemaking because whenever he introduced another technique she'd become shy or embarrassed by it. Not one to push, Merrick waited for her to take the initiative before adding it to their sexual repertoire.

They left the alley and crossed a small bridge. The sight unfolding before him was humbling. The setting sun had turned the sky blood red, the outline of magnificent structures across the lagoon standing out in stark relief.

“It's incredible.” There was no mistaking the awe in his voice. He pointed. “What's that?”

Alex followed the direction of his finger. “Chiesa della Salute.”

“How do you remember the names of every church, cathedral, or
duomo?
”

“Memorization. Unlike you, I don't have a photographic memory.”

Merrick stared at her delicate profile. “Who told you I have a photographic memory?”

She turned and stared directly at him. “No one. You proved that the day we were in the National Museum of African Art. You'd recalled works of art I'd forgotten we saw. You're not just smart, Merrick. You're brilliant. Now I see why the CIA wanted you. And now I know why you're going back.

“You told me you need normalcy in your life, but I believe it's because you feel as if you're losing it, losing your edge. You miss the thrill of being offered a new assignment, and with the heightened threat of terrorism you believe you have to do something to protect your country.”

Merrick took her face in his hands, his eyes making love to her. “You're right, Ali. But you left out one piece of the puzzle.”

“What's that?”

“You didn't mention yourself.”

“How do I figure into the picture?”

“You've helped me to know what love is.”

A shy smile flitted across her face. “Love is not taught, Merrick. Either you feel it or you don't.”

He angled his head. “It could be I hadn't met the right woman.”

Her smile widened. “I'll accept that because I've dated my share of losers.”

“Were they losers, or you just weren't compatible?”

“Probably both.” Standing on tiptoe, she brushed a kiss over his mouth.

Curving an arm around her waist, he dipped his head and kissed her soft, parted lips. “Are you ready to eat?”

“Does a cat think it's the meow?”

Shaking his head, Merrick smothered a laugh. One thing he was certain of, and that was life with Alexandra Cole would never be boring.

A
lex returned to the States, tanned, relaxed and more in love. It took two days for her to air out, dust and stock the pantry and refrigerator in her Arlington condo.

She called Michael to get an update on Jolene but got the Kirklands' voice mail. Three hours later Michael called to inform her he'd become a father. Jolene had given birth to a perfectly formed, healthy girl. They'd named her Teresa April Kirkland in honor of her paternal grandmother and one of Jolene's clients. Mother and daughter were well, and Alex told Michael she'd come by the hospital the following day to see Jolene and meet her newest cousin.

 

Alex walked into the small private hospital set on twenty acres of prime property in affluent Georgetown. The medical staff housed in a former Georgian mansion provided one-on-one care for patients wealthy enough to pay five-figure-perday fees for maximum privacy.

Jolene Kirkland's room wasn't a room but a suite with a balcony overlooking a formal English garden. She sat up in bed, pillows cradling her shoulders for support, watching a flat-screen television.

A cradle was positioned on the right side of the bed.

Alex rapped lightly on the door. “Hello, Mommy.”

Jolene, reaching for the remote device, turned off the television. “Please come in, Alex.”

Carrying a cellophane wicker basket filled with aroma-therapy items, Alex walked in and placed the basket on a damask-covered table. Jolene looked incredibly beautiful for a woman who'd just endured thirteen hours of difficult labor.

“There's something in that basket for mother and baby.” She approached the bed and hugged Jolene. “Congratulations.”

Jolene smiled. “Thank you.”

Alex walked around the bed, peering into the cradle. Wrapped in a pale pink blanket was an infant with tufts of jet-black hair. “She looks like Emily.”

“That's what I told Michael.”

“What color are her eyes?” Alex wanted to know if Teresa had inherited her father's green eyes.

“I don't know. Little Miss Willful has yet to open them.”

Alex sat on a cushioned chair next to the cradle. “Is she a good baby?”

“No,” Jolene said without hesitating. “The only time she isn't crying is when she's eating and sleeping.”

“Perhaps she has gas.”

“Perhaps she wants to be held,” Jolene countered.

“But she's only a day old. And who's been holding her?”

Jolene rolled her eyes. “Take a guess, Alex.”

“No!” Alex moaned. “Please don't tell me that Michael has begun spoiling her already.”

“You didn't hear it from me.”

“I can't…” Alex's response was preempted by a knock on the door. Turning, she saw Michael's broad shoulders filling out the doorway.

He gave Alex a bright smile. “Hey, cuz.” He walked into the room and kissed her cheek before he rounded the bed to kiss his wife.

“Congratulations, Michael. Your daughter is beautiful.”

With clear green eyes dancing in excitement, Michael shook his head in amazement. “I still can't believe she's here.”

“She looks like Emily.”

“That's what I told Jolene.”

“If she's as outspoken as your sister, then you're in for it,” Alex predicted.

“You're a lot more candid than Emily,” Michael said in defense of his sister.

“Is this a private family gathering?” asked a deep voice that sent a shiver of excitement throughout Alex. She turned to find Merrick standing in the doorway in a tan suit, with a white shirt and chocolate silk tie.

Suddenly she found breathing difficult as her gaze met his. Would Michael know just seeing them together that his friend was sleeping with his cousin? Was this the time when she'd reveal her relationship with Merrick?

“Come on in, Gray.” The two men shook hands, at the same time exchanging a rough embrace. “Have you met my cousin, Alexandra Cole?”

Merrick extended his hand, belaying her fear that he would reveal the extent of their involvement. “Yes, I have. We met New Year's Eve.”

Alex shook his hand, smiling. “We shared a dance New Year's Eve.” She now was able to relax. Merrick hadn't let on that they'd just spent two weeks together in Italy. He'd given her a tangible graduation gift on the flight back to the States: an Etruscan-inspired gold necklace with a magnificent ruby briolette.

Merrick inclined his head. “You're right.” Reaching into his jacket, he took out an envelope and gave it to Jolene. “Congratulations. It's just a little something for your daughter.”

Jolene reached out and patted his hand. “You didn't have to give her anything.” The moment Teresa drew breath she'd become heir to a share of the ColeDiz billion-dollar empire.

“That may be true, but I've been told that little girls
and
big girls can never have too many clothes.”

Jolene opened the envelope and stared at its contents before handing the envelope to Alex. Merrick had given Teresa Kirkland a gift certificate to the finest children's boutique in the Capitol District.

Jolene smiled at the man who despite being her husband's friend frightened her. She'd found him too quiet and very mysterious. “Thank you, Merrick. Teresa's certain to be one of D.C.'s best-dressed babies.”

Merrick moved over to stare down at the sleeping infant, his expression softening. “Nice work, Kirk.”

Alex and Jolene exchanged looks that spoke volumes. “He did have some help,” Alex drawled.

“Speak, sister,” Jolene chimed in.

Wincing, Merrick put up his hands. “Did I say the wrong thing?”

“Hell, yeah!” the two women chorused.

“I suppose that's my cue to escape while I can,” Merrick teased.

“Where are you off to?” Michael asked him.

“Langley.”

Alex knew the CIA was headquartered in Langley, Virginia. And like marriage, Merrick's return to the CIA was not a topic she welcomed—at least not at this time. She knew she was either selfish or in denial, but the only thing she wanted to focus on was securing a position with the National Trust. After that she would deal with her future with Merrick.

Merrick left as quietly as he'd come and she spent another thirty minutes with the Kirklands before driving back to Arlington. She'd purchased the brand-new Acura Integra a month before closing on her condo, and in two years she still hadn't put more than three thousand miles on the vehicle. Instead of flying to Boston for her interview, she drove, stopping and touring the states in the Trust's northeast region.

CIA Headquarters…Langley, Virginia

Merrick sat in an interview room, answering the same question posed at least three different ways. What he detested most was the information necessary for security clearance. It was as if the interviewer wanted to know why he'd been born.

“Have you traveled out of the country in the past three years?”

“Yes, I have,” he answered truthfully.

“When?”

“Three weeks ago.”

“Did you travel alone?”

“Yes.”

“Were you alone during your return to the United States?”

“No.”

“Who did you travel with, and what is your relationship to said person or persons?”

“I returned to the United States with a woman. Her name is Alexandra Cole.”

“Did you and Ms. Cole reside together during your travels?”

“Yes.”

“Is Ms. Cole a citizen of the United States? If not, then what country?”

“She is a citizen of the United States.”

“Where does she reside?”

“Arlington, Virginia.”

“Has Ms. Cole always been a resident of the Commonwealth of Virginia?”

“No. Ms. Cole was born and raised in Boca Raton, Florida.”

The interrogation went on for hours, every answer recorded for dissemination and follow-up. Merrick was mentally and physically drained when he got into his car in the visitors' parking lot and drove away. His association with Alex had drawn her into an investigation that was not of her choosing. Her family name or wealth meant nothing to a governmental agency intent on dissecting her life.

He'd gotten security clearance once and there was no doubt he would again. But he wondered if the Justice Department would uncover something about Alexandra he didn't want or need to know. And as if he'd executed the maneuver countless times, Merrick took the road leading to Arlington. Activating the hands-free device, he pressed the number to Alex's cell phone.

“Hello, stranger,” she crooned.

“Hello, Miss Cole,” he countered, playing along with her. “What do I have to do to convince you to come out and play?”

“What are you playing?”

“Strip poker.”

She chuckled. “Does stripping translate to the removal of articles of clothing?”

“Shame on you. Get your mind out of the gutter, naughty girl.”

“Would you like me if I were a good girl?”

“I'd like you if you were toothless, bald and covered with carbuncles.”

“What in the world are carbuncles?”

“Warts.”

“Dis-gus-ting.” She drew the word out into three syllables.

“When should I expect you?”

Merrick took a quick glance at the dashboard clock. “Sometime after five.”

He disconnected the call, then began the process that would disassociate of what had transpired in the tiny room back in Langley. He'd relived his entire life during the session, and unfortunately there were events he'd relegated to the deepest recesses of his mind, hoping never to resurrect them. However, they'd resurfaced and would take days if not months to purge again.

 

Carl Ashleigh listened to Merrick Grayslake's taped responses, comparing them to his previous security clearance report. Not much had changed in two years. The only exception was his involvement with a woman—a woman who just happened to be heiress to a family-owned conglomerate.

It wasn't what Carl's superiors wanted, but it couldn't be helped. They needed Grayslake to flush out a big fish; but if his lady got caught up in the trap it would become Grayslake's responsibility to protect her.

Picking up the phone, he dialed an extension. “He looks good,” he said into the mouthpiece. “But there may be one hitch. He's involved with a woman, and I'm not certain whether we'll be able to keep her out of the picture until we spring the trapdoor. Don't worry. I'll keep you posted on everything.”

Carl hung up, staring at several framed photographs on the opposite wall. The director was counting on him to put Operation Backslap into motion before the end of the year. He had eight months to bring down the country's most powerful lobbyist, Chandler Duffy. With Duffy out of the way, the popular incumbent president was certain to lose his party's nomination for reelection.