In the Dark Page 25

  “Me too,” he said, his expression unreadable. “I read that Caleb Newman got twenty-five years. Made me wonder what you thought.”

  Hannah heaved a deep sigh. “I think he’d be better off in a psychological ward,” she answered. “There’s something totally creepy about thinking you have the right to control other people’s destinies.” She shook her head. “I still can’t believe he killed my parents.”

  Luther sent her a compassionate grimace.

  “So, how’ve you been?” she asked, hungering for news. “How’s everyone—Westy and Jaguar?”

  “Westy’s in Malaysia,” he replied, skipping over himself. “He’s been gone since late October. I haven’t heard a word from him. Jaguar’s back on active duty. He’s the new XO, now. Oh, and Master Chief got married right after his retirement. He’s going crazy building an addition on his house because he and Leila are having twins. They’re due in May.”

  “Twins!” she marveled.

  “Sebastian has ultrasound pictures. All you can see are two little blobs.”

  A vaguely envious feeling touched her heart. “Master Chief must be happy.”

  “He’s ecstatic.”

  “What about you?” Hannah prompted.

  “Same old thing,” he said shortly. “Lots of missions. Short. Cold. Brutal.”

  His terseness kept her quiet. She sensed there was more he wanted to say. But then he started to stand. “I guess I should be going.”

  “No!” She slid to the edge of her chair, prepared to tackle him, if need be. “Please, don’t go yet.”

  He sat back down with a sigh. “I’ve tried to forget you,” he blurted, “like you wanted me to.” The muscles in his jaw jumped.

  “I never wanted you to forget me,” she protested, her throat suddenly tight.

  “You know what I mean. Let you live your life. Not bother you.”

  “Oh, Luther, you could never bother me.” That he could even think so brought tears to her eyes. She reached for a box of tissues and snatched one out. “Sorry,” she apologized. “I’ve been doing this a lot lately. It’s supposedly good for me.”

  Luther’s look of astonishment was almost comical. “Maybe I should go. I don’t want to upset you.”

  “No, please.” She waved him down. “I know I’ve surprised you by changing my plans but, believe me, no one’s more surprised than I am.”

  He stood up. Now she’d done it. He was leaving.

  But he wasn’t. “Come here,” he said, holding his hands out to her.

  She placed her hands in his, loving the tender strength in them as he pulled her to her feet. And then, to her very great relief, he wrapped his big, beautiful arms around her.

  In the warm, safe haven of Luther’s embrace, Hannah sighed. God, if she could stay right here for the rest of her life, she’d be a happy woman. Why hadn’t she realized that before?

  Fortunately he seemed in no hurry to let go. “This always seemed to help,” he said. He smelled of sportsman’s soap and ironing starch, a dearly familiar combination.

  “I’ve missed you,” she confessed, her tears dampening his shirt pocket.

  Under her ear, his heart seemed to beat faster. “I’ve missed you too,” he said roughly. “I’ve been pretty freaking miserable, actually,” he added, “putting myself in danger over and over again. It finally occurred to me that I don’t like my life without you in it.”

  She pulled back to regard his stormy eyes. “You shouldn’t have let me go,” she chastised him.

  “What?” He frowned in protest. “You told me to let you go. You said I shouldn’t postpone my life for you.”

  “That’s what I thought,” she admitted. “Is it too late to change my mind?”

  He drew a breath. “Do you want to?”

  She queried her heart one final time, hearing only certainty. Everything was different now, as if one domino had fallen, tipping over the next and the next, reordering her priorities. “I want to,” she replied.

  Hope illumined the depths of his deep, blue eyes. “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. I want the whole package: a job with the FBI, you as my husband and a gaggle of kids, three of them at least.”

  She gave a shriek as Luther snatched her off her feet and planted a fervent kiss on her lips. Within seconds the kiss heated them both to a point of no return.

  “Yes,” said Luther, putting her back on her feet.

  “Yes what?”

  “You asked if I would marry you,” he pointed out.

  “I did?”

  “I’m part of the package, right?”

  She grinned with understanding. “You’re the best part.”

  “So where’s the ring?” he teased.

  “Uh, I didn’t get one yet.”

  “Better hurry. I’m out of patience.”

  “Who needs a ring?” she tossed back, pulling his head down for a deep, distracting kiss.

  “We’d better go upstairs,” Luther rasped several breathless moments later.

  Hannah turned to lead the way. She wasn’t sure who tripped whom, but Luther broke their fall. Pinning her to the steps, he kissed her with the same single-minded intensity that she remembered. Suddenly the bedroom seemed much too far away.

  With frantic fingers they sought skin until both of them were more naked than dressed.

  “Don’t stop!” Hannah panted, threading her fingers through the soft strands of Luther’s hair as he kissed the length of her body.

  He chuckled at her command. “Let’s go upstairs,” he suggested again.

  Hannah gazed up at the ceiling, eyes glazed, face flushed. “Okay,” she agreed. Rolling over, she started to crawl up the steps on her knees.

  She didn’t get far. “Oh, Luther,” she groaned as he pulled her back against him. “We’ll never make it to the bedroom.”

  “You’ll never forget the day you asked me to marry you either,” he pointed out.

  As if she ever would. It was the best day of her life. She would savor every second of it down to the rasp of his stubbled jaw as he nuzzled her neck.

  Westy was right, she realized. Some things in life couldn’t be planned. They were gifts to be accepted with grace and gratitude. She and Luther had both needed to learn that lesson.

  More

  Marliss Melton!

  Please turn this page for a preview of

  TIME TO RUN

  available in February 2006

  * * *

  Sarah Garret stopped just short of pushing through the doors into the bright September sunshine. Damn him! She hit the glass with the heel of her hand, then looked at it in dismay, putting it quickly behind her back.

  I’m acting like him now.

  The thought filled her with disgust. God forbid she would ever strike her nine-year-old son in anger. What was Garret turning her into?

  She took a steadying breath and slowly exhaled. It would all be over soon, she promised herself. She’d dotted nearly all the i’s and crossed all the t’s. God, but it had taken years to plot an escape route that couldn’t be guessed or followed, and she still had doubts about the bus.

  But unless she found another means of getting them to Texas, she’d have to take her chances with public transportation. Garret wouldn’t know which direction she’d taken, she comforted herself. He didn’t know a thing about her birth mother.

  “Are you leaving already?”

  The question was asked practically in her ear. With a stifled scream, Sarah whirled, one arm raised in a purely defensive gesture.

  It was the Navy SEAL who’d spoken to her earlier. Putting her hand down, she struggled to recover.

  “I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

  He actually reached out and steadied her. The hands on either of her shoulders were big and warm and had an immediate calming effect on her racing heart.

  “I didn’t hear you,” she explained.

  “My fault.” With a squeeze, he released her, dropping his hands to his side
s.

  Just like the last two times she’d talked to him, she felt herself drawn to his intense blue eyes. There was something so kind about them, even in a face that was craggy from spending too much time in inclement weather. He was a SEAL, she knew, from the fact that he’d supported his fellow SEALs in that trial last year, only he didn’t look like a SEAL. His hair was longer than hers. He had a full goatee, and—goodness—there were holes in his ears for earrings, more than one.

  Nonetheless, a Trident pin, the SEAL insignia, was clipped above his left breast pocket. He boasted a daunting number of ribbons, far more than Garret had. The service stripes on his left arm indicated he was an enlisted man—not an officer like her husband.

  According to unspoken Navy protocol, she wasn’t even supposed to talk to this man—forget that Garret would blister her hide if he ever found out. But something in those blue, blue eyes made her trust him.

  “Are you leaving?” he asked.

  “No, I . . .” I’m a prisoner. “My husband can’t get away. His work is keeping him busy.”

  “Ah,” he said with an understanding grimace. “So you’ll miss your class.”

  Dismay tugged at her as she thought of what the Arwanis would think.

  “I can give you a ride,” he offered unexpectedly. “I’m headed to Norfolk myself, right now.”

  She glanced up in surprise. He wasn’t as tall as Garret— maybe six feet even, but his shoulders were twice as wide given the muscularity of his torso. His blatant masculinity struck her with sudden force. He wasn’t . . . he couldn’t be picking her up!

  Of course not. What was she thinking? She wasn’t even remotely pretty. Besides, SEALs were governed by a strict code of ethics, or so she’d heard. “Oh”—she waved a dismissive hand—“no, thank you. That’s very nice of you, but . . .” Garret would kill me.

  She could have sworn that she hadn’t said those words out loud, but then the SEAL said, “Leave him a note on the bench saying you’ve found a ride.”

  She opened her mouth to decline his offer when a stubborn flame leaped up inside her. Why shouldn’t she say yes, even if he was picking her up, which he wasn’t. He was just being nice, something Garret had never been and couldn’t begin to fathom.

  “You know,” she said, thinking out loud, “I think I will.” She opened her big purse, looking for her pencil.

  Before she could find it, the SEAL had produced a pen and a little notepad and was holding them out to her.

  “Thank you,” she said. Accepting both objects, she walked away.

  It took all the courage she could muster to scribble a short explanatory note. Her fingers trembled so badly, it was scarcely legible. She left it on the bench where Garret would find it, then hurried to the exit, battling the urge to run.

  Her heart beat fast and heavy. Think of it as practice, she told herself. Pretty soon she’d be leaving forever, and then she’d find out just how gutsy she really was.

  The prospect filled her with terror.

  The sight of the SEAL waiting by the front doors calmed her nerves. She ought to be leery of hitching a ride with a perfect stranger, especially one with holes in his ears. But as she approached him, he cast her a warm smile and stretched out a hand. “I’m Chase, by the way,” he said. “Chase McCaffrey.”

  His hand was rough with calluses but warm and sure. She knew the strangest urge to hold on to it and never let go. “I’m Sarah.” Her voice sounded different, huskier. She was attracted to him, she realized, tugging her hand free. The truth surprised her. He wasn’t her type at all.

  He tipped his head toward the door. “Shall we?”

  He held the door for her. It was a sunny afternoon— hot, actually, for late September. Sarah took a deep breath and savored the humid air, the scent of sun-warmed grass, hot pavement, and the aroma of charbroiled burgers from the Burger King on base. It smelled like freedom.

  Only a dozen or so cars dotted the parking lot. They passed a number that she thought might be his. But then he stopped before an enormous motorcycle—all chrome rims and black leather—and she went suddenly light-headed. Good Lord, wasn’t this a Harley-Davidson?

  The SEAL handed her a helmet while at the same time giving her an apologetic look. “I hope you don’t mind. I need a part for my car, which is why I’m headed to Norfolk.”

  Mind? This was crazy, insane. If Garret caught word of it, she was going to pay dearly for her recklessness. She stood there, paralyzed, clutching the helmet and staring at the motorcycle.

  He waited patiently for her to make her decision. “I’ll go slow,” he cajoled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as if her shock amused him.

  Okay. She was going to do this. She needed to build her confidence before the big day. With a rebel smile, she jammed on the helmet and found that it fit her perfectly— it was made for a woman.

  So, her SEAL had a habit of picking up damsels in distress. She didn’t know whether to be offended or flattered.

  He mounted first, holding the bike upright between his long, muscular legs. Then he patted the space behind him, and she looped her purse strap over her head. Hiking up her dress in a manner that would have sent her mother into a dead faint, she mounted on board behind him.

  “Scoot closer,” he instructed. His voice was the sexiest thing she’d heard since James Dean. “And wrap your arms around me tight.” He depressed an ignition button, and the bike throbbed to life beneath her. Backing up, he readied them for departure, and with a twist of his wrist, they were off.

  As promised, he didn’t go fast, but she squeezed her thighs around him, terrified she might fall off. After a few tense minutes, she relaxed. They were scarcely moving faster than the twenty-mile-an-hour speed limit. The wind billowed up her dress. Someone with sharp vision might catch a glimpse of her white cotton panties.

  Amazingly, she didn’t care. The breeze offered relief from the hot sun. As they broke away from the huddle of buildings and into the open, with green grass on either side of them, he picked up speed. No longer afraid, Sarah yielded to the sensation of flying through the air with nothing to cling to but the hard body of the man before her.

  She wasn’t sure what was more exhilarating: the wind’s caress or the breadth of Chase’s torso in the circle of her arms. Her breasts were flattened against his back. She wondered if he could feel her nipples, tight with excitement, pressed against him. She hadn’t done anything remotely this exciting in a decade! He felt hot to the touch, yet she couldn’t feel a trace of sweat under the linen uniform.

  He swept them out of the gate and onto a double-lane highway, where he went faster still. Her exhilaration mounted. She’d delivered herself to temptation, and she was going to enjoy every minute of it, while she could.

  A short while later, Chase veered off onto a narrow side street, one that was shaded with oak trees. This was not the way to Norfolk, she realized with an uneasy start. He took a wide turn and zipped into the driveway of a small white house. His feet came down on either side of the bike, and he cut the engine abruptly.

  Sarah’s heart skipped with trepidation. What had she gotten herself into?

  “I need to change out of my uniform,” he explained, taking off his helmet. “I hope you don’t mind. It’ll take just a second.”

  “Oh.” The explanation made sense, but all the same, she needed to be cautious. What if he weren’t such a nice man after all? What if he’d led her to his house in order to strip her clothes off and ravish her?

  The thought sent a gush of liquid heat through her. She was shocked by the telltale symptom of desire. Heavens, she was married. What was she doing entertaining such a feeling?

  “Hop off,” he invited easily. It was then that she detected a western drawl.

  She did, aware that her knees felt like Jell-O. She struggled to get the helmet off her head, but her fingers wouldn’t cooperate.

  Chase reached out and released the catch.

  “Thanks,” she murmured, her voice ridiculously thin
.

  He just smiled. “Come meet Jesse.”

  She could hear a dog barking at the door. The moment Chase unlocked it, a huge black Lab came bounding out. Sarah tensed, having little experience with dogs.

  “Jesse, sit,” Chase commanded, and the dog immediately went down on his haunches, his tail swishing back and forth like a windshield wiper.

  Reassured by the dog’s obedience, Sarah stepped forward and stroked his broad head. The Lab regarded her with shiny brown eyes. In fact, he seemed to be grinning. Her fear evaporated. “Nice dog,” she said, impressed.

  “You don’t have a dog,” Chase guessed.

  “No, I’ve always wanted one but . . .” She shrugged. But Garret couldn’t abide animals, so that was that.

  “You can wait out here if you’d like, or you can come in,” Chase said. “It’s cooler inside.”

  His civil offer put her imagination to shame. He wasn’t even thinking about sex, she realized with chagrin. Curious to see how he lived, she said, “I’ll come in.”

  He cast her a look of approval. “Great.”

  The little house boasted two stories, a front porch, and a huge, fenced yard in the rear for the dog. Trailing Chase into the cool interior, she found herself looking at a comfortable couch. Rustic furniture, so at odds with the Chippendale that Garret preferred, filled the diminutive living room. The colors were burgundy, green, and beige. She let her gaze drift over the walls and realized that either a woman had hung the pictures or Chase the SEAL had a flair for decorating.

  A wildlife motif was reflected in the pictures of buffalo and deer, in the bearskin rug by the fireplace, and a wood sculpture on the country coffee table. It looked like something out of Country Living.

  “Make yourself at home,” Chase said, already working on the buttons of his dress uniform. Beneath his quick fingers, the shirt seemed to fly open. He wore a sleeveless white T-shirt underneath.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he added, tugging the shirttails out of his slacks.

  “No, thank you.” Her eyes were shamelessly glued to him.

  “You sure? Not even water?” As he shrugged out of his dress uniform, she saw with a wave of dizziness that he boasted a huge tattoo on his left arm. While his dress shirt had hidden it, the sleeveless T-shirt seemed to highlight the black-ink drawing of . . . she peered closer and made out four skulls rising from their graves. Yikes.