You need a battle plan,” Matt advised. “I never left the base without detailed reconnaissance and a battle plan. It’s why I came home alive.”
Tate chuckled in spite of himself. “She’s a woman, not an enemy stronghold.”
“That’s what you think,” Matt said, pointing a spoon in the other man’s direction before he lowered it into his cup. “Most women are enemy strongholds,” he added, with a wicked glance at his smiling wife. “You have to storm the gates properly.”
“He knows all about storming gates, apparently,” Leta said with faint sarcasm. “Otherwise, we wouldn’t be expecting a grandchild…” She gasped and looked at Matt. “A grandchild. Our grandchild,” she emphasized with pure joy.
Matt glanced at Tate. “That puts a whole new face on things, son,” he said, the word slipping out so naturally that it didn’t even seem to surprise Tate, who smiled through his misery.
“You go to Tennessee and tell Cecily she’s marrying you,” Leta instructed her son.
“Sure,” Tate said heavily. “After all the trouble I’ve given her in the past weeks, I’m sure she can’t wait to rush down the aisle with me.”
“Honey catches more flies than vinegar,” Matt said helpfully.
“If I go down there with any honey, I’ll come home wearing bees.”
Leta chuckled.
“You aren’t going to give up?” Matt asked.
Tate shook his head. “I can’t. I have to get to her before Gabrini does, although I’m fairly sure he has no more idea where she really is than I did until today. I just have to find a new approach to get her back home. God knows what.” He sipped more coffee and glanced from one of his parents to the other. He felt as if he belonged, for the first time in his life. It made him warm inside to consider how dear these two people suddenly were to him. His father, he thought, was quite a guy. Not that he was going to say so. The man was far too arrogant already.
Pierce Hutton gave him a highly amused smile as they went over updated security information from the oil rig in the Caspian Sea.
“So you’ve finally decided to do something about Cecily,” Peirce murmured. “It’s about time. I was beginning to get used to that permanent scowl.”
Tate glanced at him wryly. “I thought I was doing a great job of keeping her at arm’s length. She’s pregnant, now, of course,” he volunteered.
The older man chuckled helplessly. “So much for keeping her at arm’s length. When’s the wedding?”
Tate’s smile faded. “That’s premature. She ran. I finally tracked her down, but now I have to convince her that I want to get married without having her think it’s only because of the baby.”
“I don’t envy you the job,” Pierce replied, his black eyes twinkling. “I had my own rocky road to marriage, if you recall.”
“How’s the baby these days?” he asked.
Pierce laughed with wholehearted delight. “We watch him instead of television. I never expected fatherhood to make such changes in me, in my life.” He shook his head, with a faraway look claiming his eyes. “Sometimes I’m afraid it’s all a dream and I’ll wake up alone.” He shifted, embarrassed. “You can have the time off. But who’s going to handle your job while you’re gone?”
“I thought I’d get you to put Colby Lane on the payroll.” He held up his hand when Pierce looked thunderous. “He’s stopped drinking,” he hold him. “Cecily got him into therapy. He’s not the man he was.”
“You’re sure of that?” Pierce wanted to know.
Tate smiled. “I’m sure.
“Okay. But if he ever throws a punch at me again, he’ll be smiling on the inside of his mouth!”
Tate chuckled. “Fair enough. I’ll give him a call before I leave town.
The ambulance arrived when the police cars did. They were accompanied by a man in a black suit who had the look of a federal agent. It didn’t surprise Cecily that he went right up to Tate and drew him to one side.
While Cecily was being checked over by a paramedic, Gabrini, who’d already been loaded onto a gurney, was being watched by two police officers.
Tate came back to Cecily while the federal agent paused by the police officers.
“You can take him to the hospital to have his ribs strapped,” the man told the ambulance attendant. “But we’ll have transport for him to New Jersey with two federal marshals.”
“Marshals!” Gabrini exclaimed, holding his side, because the outburst had hurt.
“Marshals,” the federal agent replied. There was something menacing about the smile that accompanied the words. “It seems that you’re wanted in Jersey for much more serious crimes than breaking an entering and assault with a deadly weapon, Mr. Gabrini.”
“Not in Jersey,” Gabrini began. “No, those other charges, they’re in D.C.”
“You’ll get to D.C. eventually,” the federal agent murmured, then the dark man smiled. And Gabrini knew at once that he wasn’t connected in any way at all to the government.
Gabrini was suddenly yelling his head off, begging for federal protection, but nobody paid him much attention. He was carried off in the ambulance with the sedan following close behind.
I want to stay here,” she said quietly.
He drew in a short breath, still full of adrenaline from the violence and still fuming because she was rejecting him.
He looked into her eyes. “My parents want you to come home so that they can be near their first grandchild.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “That’s a new angle,” she said. “Pulling out all the stops, are you?”
He glared at her. “Don’t think I can’t live without you, even if you are carrying my son.”
She shrugged, not letting her sorrow show. “I’ve never thought that, Tate,” she said with forced cheer. “How could a mere woman compete with covert ops?
Colby was quietly shocked to find Tate not only at his door the next morning, but smiling. He was expecting an armed assault following their recent telephone conversation. “I’m here with a job offer.”
Colby’s dark eyes narrowed. “Does it come with a cyanide capsule?” he asked warily.
Tate clapped the other man on the shoulder. “I’m sorry about the way I’ve treated you. I haven’t been thinking straight. I’m obliged to you for telling me the truth about Cecily.”
“You know the baby’s yours, I gather?”
Tate nodded. “I’m on my way to Tennessee to bring her home,” he replied.
Colby’s eyes twinkled. “Does she know this?”
“Not yet. I’m saving it for a surprise.”
“I imagine you’re the one who’s going to get the surprise,” Colby informed him. “She’s changed a lot in the past few weeks.”
“I noticed.” Tate leaned against the wall near the door. “I’ve got a job for you.”
“You want me to go to Tennessee?” Colby murmured dryly.
“In your dreams, Lane,” Tate returned. “No, not that. I want you to head up my security force for Pierce Hutton while I’m away.”
Colby looked around the room. “Maybe I’m hallucinating.”
“You and my father,” Tate muttered, shaking his head. “Listen, I’ve changed.”
“Into what?”
“Pay attention. It’s a good job. You’ll have regular hours. You can learn to sleep without a gun under your pillow. You won’t lose any more arms.” He added thoughtfully, “I’ve been a bad friend. I was jealous of you.”
“But why?” Colby wanted to know. “Cecily is special. I look out for her, period. There’s never been a day since I met her when she wasn’t in love with you, or a time when I didn’t know it.”
Tate felt warmth spread through his body at the remark. “I’ve given her hell. She may not feel that way, now.”
“You can’t kill love,” Colby said heavily. “I know. I’ve tried.”
Tate felt sorry for the man. He didn’t know how to put it into words.
Colby shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve learned to live with my ghosts, thanks to that psychologist Cecily pushed me into seeing.” He scowled. “She keeps snakes, can you imagine? I used to see mine crawling out of whiskey bottles, but hers are real.”
“Maybe she’s allergic to fur,” Tate pointed out.
Colby chuckled. “Who knows. When do I start?” he added.
“Today.” He produced a mobile phone and dialed a number. “I’m sending Colby Lane over. He’s my relief while I’m away. If you have any problems, report them to him.”
He nodded as the person on the other end of the line replied in the affirmative. He closed up the phone. “Okay, here’s what you need to do…
Are you a relative of her late husband?” the woman asked.
His eyes widened. “I beg your pardon?”
“It must be so hard for her, pregnant and just widowed,” the middle-aged woman continued. “We’ve all done what we could to make her happy here. Mr. Johnson, the curator, is a widower himself. He’s already sweet on her. But you’re probably anxious to see Mrs. Peterson. Shall I ring her and let her know you’re coming?”
Tate’s eyes were blazing. “No,” he said with forced politeness. “I want to surprise her!”
He stalked out, leaving the rented vehicle where it was as he trudged through the small layer of snow and glared contemptuously at the cars sliding around in the street as they passed. This little bit of snow was nothing compared to the six-foot snowdrifts on the reservation. Southerners, he considered, must not get much winter precipitation if this little bit of white dust paralyzed traffic!
As for Cecily’s mythical dead husband, he considered, going up the walkway to the small brick structure where she lived, he was about to make a startling, resurrected appearance!
He knocked on the door and waited.
There was an irritated murmur beyond the closed door and the sound of a lock being unfastened. The door opened and a wan Cecily looked straight into his eyes.
He managed to get inside the screen door and catch her before she passed out.
She came to on the sofa with Tate sitting beside her, smoothing back her disheveled hair. The nausea climbed into her throat and, fortunately, stayed there. She looked at him with helpless delight, wishing she could hide what the sight of him was doing to her after so many empty, lonely weeks.
He didn’t speak. He touched her hair, her forehead, her eyes, her nose, her mouth, with fingers that seemed bent on memorizing her. Then his hands went to the robe carelessly fastened over her cotton nightdress and pushed it aside. He touched her belly, his face radiant as he registered the very visible and tangible signs of her condition.
“When did we make him?” he asked without preamble.
She felt her world dissolve. He knew about the baby. Of course. That was why he was here.
He met her eyes, found hostility and bitter disillusionment in them. His hand pressed down over her belly. “I would have come even if I hadn’t known about the baby,” he said at once.
“The baby is mine.”
“And mine.”
“Audrey is not getting her avaricious little hands on my child…!
His hand felt odd against her swollen belly. She started to speak at the same moment that the baby suddenly moved.
Tate’s hand jerked back as if it had been stung. He stared at her stomach with pure horror as it fluttered again.
She couldn’t help it. She burst out laughing.
“Is that…normal?” he wanted to know.
“It’s a baby,” she said softly. “They move around. He kicks a little. Not much, just yet, but as he grows, he’ll get stronger.”
“I never realized…” He drew in a long breath and put his hand back against her body. “Cecily, does it hurt you when he…” He hesitated. His black, stunned eyes met hers. “He?”
She nodded.
“They can tell, so soon?”
“Yes,” she said simply. “They did an ultrasound.”
His fingers became caressing. A son. He was going to have a son. He swallowed. It was a shock. He hadn’t thought past her pregnancy, but now he realized that there was going to be a miniature version of himself and Cecily, a child who would embody the traits of all his ancestors. All his ancestors. It made him feel humble.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
He glared into her eyes. “Not with any help from you, let me tell you! It took me forever to track down the driver who brought you to Nashville. He was off on extended sick leave, and it wasn’t until this week that anybody remembered he’d worked that route before Christmas.”
She averted her eyes. “I didn’t want to be found.”
“So I noticed. But you have been, and you’re damned well coming home,” he said furiously. “I’m damned if I’m going to leave you here at the mercy of people who go nuts over an inch of snow!”
She sat up, displacing his hand, noticed that she was too close to him for comfort, swung her legs off the sofa and got up. “I’m not going as far as the mailbox with you!” she told him flatly. “I’ve made a new life for myself here, and I’m staying!”
“That’s what you think.” He got up, too, and went toward the bedroom. He found her suitcase minutes later, threw it open on the bed and started filling it.
“I’m not going with you,” she told him flatly. “You can pack. You can even take the suitcase and all my clothes. But I’m not leaving. This is my life now. You have no place in it!”
He whirled. He was furious. “You’re carrying my child!”
The sight of him was killing her. She loved him, wanted him, needed him, but he was here only out of a sense of duty, maybe even out of guilt. She knew he didn’t want ties or commitments; he’d said so often enough. He didn’t love her, either, and that was the coldest knowledge of all.
“Colby asked me to marry him for the baby’s sake,” she said bitterly. “Maybe I should have.”
“Over my dead body,” he assured her.
Please go away,” she whispered. “Leave me in peace.”
He scowled. “Cecily…”
“Please, Tate,” she pleaded gently. “Just go home and forget that you know where I am. I’ve broken all my ties in Washington, I’ve put it all behind me. It’s just me and the baby now.”
“You and the baby and your mythical dead husband,” he shot back. “What do I have to do to get through to you?
Colby Lane and Pierce Hutton had the manager of Tate’s apartment building open his door for them. They knew that Tate had come back from Tennessee, and that he’d saved Cecily from Gabrini, but nobody had seen him for almost a week. His answering machine was left on permanently. He didn’t answer knocks at the door. It was such odd behavior that his colleague and his boss became actually concerned.
They were more concerned when they saw him passed out on the couch in a forest of beer cans and discarded pizza boxes. He hadn’t shaved or, apparently, bathed since his return.
“Good God,” Pierce said gruffly.
“That’s a familiar sight,” Colby murmured. “He’s turned into me.”
Pierce glared at him. “Don’t be insulting.” He moved to the sofa and shook Tate. “Wake up!” he snapped.
Tate didn’t open his eyes. He shifted, groaning. “She won’t come back,” he mumbled. “Won’t come. Hates me…”
He drifted off again. Pierce and Colby exchanged knowing glances. Without a word, they rolled up their sleeves and set to work, first on the apartment, and then on Tate.
Tate was sprawled across the bed in his robe early the next morning when the sound of the front door opening penetrated his mind. There was an unholy commotion out there and his head was still throbbing, despite a bath, several cups of coffee and a handful of aspirin that had been forced on him the day before by two men he’d thought were his friends. He didn’t want to sober up. He only wanted to forget that Cecily didn’t want him anymore.
He dragged himself off the bed and went into the living room, just in time to hear the door close.
Cecily and her suitcase were standing with mutual rigidity just inside the front door. She was wearing a dress and boots and a coat and hat, red-faced and muttering words Tate had never heard her use before.
He scowled. “How did you get here?” he asked.
“Your boss brought me!” she raged. “He and that turncoat Colby Lane and two bodyguards, one of whom was the female counterpart of Ivan the Terrible! They forcibly dressed me and packed me and flew me up here on Mr. Hutton’s Learjet! When I refused to get out of the car, the male bodyguard swept me up and carried me here! I am going to kill people as soon as I get my breath and my wits back, and I am starting with you!”
He leaned against the wall, still bleary-eyed and only half awake. She was beautiful with her body gently swollen and her lips pouting and her green eye sin their big-lensed frames glittering at him.
She registered after a minute that he wasn’t himself. “What’s the matter with you?” she asked abruptly.
He didn’t answer. He put a hand to his head.
“You’re drunk!” she exclaimed in shock.
“I have been,” he replied in a subdued tone. “For about a week, I think. Pierce and Colby got my landlord to let them in yesterday.” She smiled dimly. “I’d made some threats about what I’d do if he ever let anybody else into my apartment, after he let Audrey in the last time. I guess he believed them, because Colby had to flash his company ID to get in.” He chuckled weakly. “Nothing intimidates the masses like a CIA badge, even if it isn’t current.”
“You’ve been drunk?” She moved a little closer into the apartment. “But, Tate, you don’t…you don’t drink,” she said.
“I do now. The mother of my child won’t marry me,” he said simply.
“I said you could have access…”
His black eyes slid over her body like caressing hands. He’d missed her unbearably. Just the sight of her was calming now. “So you did.”
Why did the feel guilty, for God’s sake, she wondered. She tried to recapture her former outrage. “I’ve been kidnapped!”
“Apparently. Don’t look at me. Until today, I was too stoned to lift my head.” He looked around. “I guess they threw out the beer cans and the pizza boxes,” he murmured. “Pity. I think there was a slice of pizza left.” He sighed. “I’m hungry. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
“Yesterday!
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