White Lies (20 page)

           
 
He cleared his throat. "We have a
choice."

           
 
"We do? Of course we do. Of what?"

           
 
"We can get up and eat the lunch you were
cooking—" he broke off to lift his head and look at the clock "—three
hours ago, or we can try to wreck this bed, too."

           
 
She considered it. "I think we'd better
have lunch, or I won't have the energy to help you wreck the bed."

           
 
"Good thinking." He hugged her, reluctant
to get up despite his own hunger, and found his hands stroking down her sides
in sensual enjoyment. Then he paused and moved his hand around to her stomach.
' Unless you want to get married this weekend, we'd better do something about
birth control." Jay's heart felt as if it had abruptly swollen so large
that it filled her entire chest. For a few glorious hours she'd forgotten how
hemmed in she was by this tortuous maze of deception. She wanted nothing more
than to simply say "Yes, let's get married," but she didn't dare. Not
until he knew who he was—and she knew who he was—and he still said he wanted to
marry her. So she ignored the first part of his statement and merely answered
the second. "We don't have to worry about birth control. I'm on the Pill.
My doctor put me on it seven months ago, because my periods had gotten so
erratic."

           
 
His eyes narrowed a little and his hand lay
heavier on her stomach. "Is something wrong?"

           
 
"No. It was just stress from my job. I
could probably do without them now." Then she smiled and turned her face
into his shoulder. "Except for a sudden development."

           
 
He grunted. "Sudden, hell. I've been hard
for two months. But we could still get married this weekend."

           
 
She cased out of his embrace and got up, her
face troubled as she put on fresh underwear and got a sweater from the closet,
pulling it over her head. He watched her from the bed. His voice was very soft
and raspy when he spoke. "I want an answer."

           
 
Harried, she pushed her tangled hair out of
her eyes. "Steve—" She stopped, almost cringing at the necessity of
calling him by that name. Now more than ever, she wanted, needed, to know her
lover's name. "I can't marry you until you've gotten your memory back."

           
 
He threw the sheet back and stood,
magnificently naked. Jay's pulse rate skittered as she looked at him. All the
miles he'd run and the wood he'd chopped had corded his body with muscles. He
didn't look as if he'd ever been injured, except for his scars. Her heart
settled into a slow, heavy beat. She had cradled his weight, taken his pounding
invasion, returned his fire with her own. As tender as she felt now in
different parts of her body, she could still feel herself grow warm and liquid
as she looked at him.

           
 
"What difference does my memory
make?" he snapped, and she jerked her gaze upward, realizing that he was
angry. "No other woman has a claim on me, and you know it, so don't bring
up that crap again. Why should we wait?"

           
 
"I want you to be certain," she
said, her voice troubled.

           
 
"Damn it, I am certain!"

           
 
"How can you be, when you don't know
what's happened? I just don't want you to regret marrying me when everything
comes back to you." She tried a smile, and it only wobbled a little.
"We're together, and we have time. That will have to be enough for
now."

           
 
Steve forced himself to be content with that,
and in many ways it was enough. They lived together in the truest sense of the
word, as partners, friends and lovers. It was a week before the snows came
again, and in that week they explored every inch of their high meadow. He
showed her the laser-beam sensor he'd installed across the trail and
demonstrated how to operate both the radio and the computer. It was a relief
not to have to hide from her how deeply he'd been involved in espionage, though
she got a little huffy with him because all the equipment had been hidden from
her in the shed and only now had he gotten around to telling her about it.

           
 
He liked making her lose her temper. It was
exciting, in a primitive way, to watch those blue eyes narrow like a cat's. It
was the final sign that he'd tormented her into attack. The day he'd thought
she was an intruder and tracked her in the snow, then tackled her, her rage had
startled him, caught him off balance, but it had excited him. Most people who
knew Jay would never think she was capable of that kind of anger, or that she
would physically fight anyone. It told him a lot about her, about the
passionate, volatile side of her personality and about what it took to bring it
out. Probably very few people could make her angry, but because she loved him,
he could. And after he'd provoked her to anger, he liked to wrestle with her
and love her out of her temper.

           
 
Physically she delighted him. She was still
too thin, though she ate well, but he liked to watch her trim hips and rounded
buttocks in her tight jeans too much to complain. Her skin was satiny, her
breasts high and round, her exotic mouth full and pouty; no matter how she
dressed, she turned him on because he knew what lay under those clothes. He
also knew that all he had to do was reach for her and she'd turn into his arms,
warm and willing. That kind of response enchanted him; there was something so
new about it, as if he'd never known it before. Then one morning they got up to
find that it had snowed again during the night, and it continued snowing all
during the day, not hard, just a continuous veil of flakes sifting down over
the meadow. Except for trips outside to bring in more firewood, Jay and Steve
spent the day in the cabin, watching old movies. That was an extra benefit of
the satellite dish; they could always find something interesting to watch on
television, if they were in the mood. It was perfectly suited to a lazy day when
they had nothing better to do than to lie around and watch the fat snowflakes
drifting down.

           
 
Just before dark, Steve left to check the
area, something he always did. While he was gone Jay began cooking dinner,
humming as she did so, because she was so contented. This was paradise. She
knew it couldn't last; when his memory returned, even if he still wanted to
marry her, their lives would change. They would leave here, find another home.
She would have to find another job. Other things would take up their time. This
was time set aside, out of the real world, but she meant to enjoy every minute
of it. Briefly a dark thought intruded: This could be all she had. Perhaps it
was. If so, these days were all the more precious.

           
 
Steve entered through the back door, slapping
snow off his shoulders and shaking it out of his hair before taking off his
thick coat. "Nothing but rabbit tracks." He looked thoughtful.
"Do you like rabbit?" Jay turned from the cheese she was grating for
the spaghetti. "If you shoot the Easter Bunny..." she began in a
threatening tone.

           
 
"It was just a question," he said,
and grabbed her for a kiss, then rubbed his cold, beard-roughened cheek against
hers. "You smell good. Like onion and garlic and tomato sauce."
Actually, she smelled like herself, that sweet, warm, womanly scent he
associated with her and no one else. He buried his cold nose against her neck
and inhaled it, feeling the familiar tension growing in his loins.

           
 
"You won't get any points for telling me
I smell like onions and garlic," she said, returning to her chore even
though he kept his arms looped around her waist.

           
 
"Even if I tell you how crazy I am about
onions and garlic?"

           
 
"Humph. You're like all men. You'll say
anything when you're hungry." Chuckling, he released her to set the table
and begin buttering the rolls.

           
 
"How would you like to take a trip?"

           
 
"I'd love to see
Hawaii
."

           
 
"I was thinking more in terms of
Colorado Springs
. Or maybe
Denver
."

           
 
"I've
been
to
Colorado
Springs
,"
she said, then looked at him curiously over her shoulder. "Why are we
going to
Colorado
Springs
?"

           
 
"I'm assuming Frank doesn't want us
returning to
Washington
, even briefly, so he'll fly the doctor out to check my eyes. That
means, logically, either
Colorado Springs
or
Denver
, and I'm betting
Colorado Springs
. I'm also betting he doesn't want the
doctor to know the location of the cabin, so that means we go to him."

           
 
She had known he would have to have his eyes
checked again, but just talking about it brought the real world intruding into
their private paradise. It would feel strange even seeing other people, much
less talking to them. But reading strained his eyes, and enough time had passed
for them to realize his sight wasn't going to improve. She thought of how he
would look in glasses, and a warm feeling began spreading in her stomach. Sexy.
She gave him a smile.

           
 
"Yeah, I think I'd like to make a trip.
I've been eating my own cooking for a long time now."

           
 
"I'll get in touch with Frank after
dinner." He could have done it then, but filling his stomach was more
important. Jay made great spaghetti, and getting in touch with Frank could be
time-consuming. First things first.

           
 
After the dinner dishes had been cleaned and
Steve was in the shed contacting Frank, Jay stretched out on the rug in front
of the fire, for the first time thinking about the chic little apartment in
New York
that Frank had been keeping for her. It
contrasted sharply with the rustic comfort of the cabin, but she much preferred
the cabin. She would hate to leave it; it would be beautiful here during the
summer, but she wondered how much longer they would be here. Surely Steve's
memory would return before then, and even if it didn't, how much longer would
it be before Frank told him the truth? They couldn't let him live another man's
life forever. Or could they? Had that been the plan? Did they somehow know he'd
never get his memory back?

           
 
The mirrors kept reflecting back different
answers, different facets to the puzzle, different solutions. And none of them
fit.

           
 
"Are you asleep?" he asked softly.

           
 
She gasped and rolled over, her heart jumping.
"I didn't hear you come in. You didn't make any noise." He always
moved silently, like a cat, but she should have heard the back door. She'd been
so deep in thought that the sounds hadn't registered.

           
 
"The better to sneak up on you, my
dear," he growled in his best big-badwolf voice. He joined her on the rug,
sinking his hands into her hair as he angled her mouth up toward his. He kissed
her slowly, deeply, taking his tune and using his tongue. Her breathing
altered, and her eyes grew heavy lidded. Desire was a heavy warmth inside her,
slowly expanding until it completely filled her. They weren't in any hurry. It
felt too good to lie there in the warmth of the crackling fire and savor their
kisses. But eventually the heat was too much, and she moaned as he unbuttoned her
flannel shirt, parting the edges to press his lips to the swollen curves of her
breasts. He lay on top of her, his heavy legs controlling hers even though she
twisted restlessly. She wanted more. Moaning again, her voice sharp with need,
she turned until her nipple brushed against his mouth. Lazily he extended his
tongue and licked it, then clamped his mouth over it and sucked strongly,
giving her what she needed.

           
 
The firelight burnished her hair with golden
lights and her skin with a rosy glow as he unfastened her jeans and pulled them
off. Her mouth was red and moist, glistening with the sheen of his kisses.
Abruptly he couldn't wait any longer and jerked his own clothes off. The
flannel shirt still hung around her shoulders, but even that was too much. He
pulled it away from her and knelt between her legs, draping her thighs over his
as he bent forward to enter her, fusing their bodies as surely as their lives
were fused.