Into Danger Part 32

Steve reached into his pocket and touched the box. He didn't know what he'd do if she refused him. A hand clapped his shoulder, and he turned to see Hawk on his side.

"Relax. She won't chop your head off like Princess Turandot would."

"Yeah," Cam chimed in. "It's not like she's been ignoring you. Down on your knees, say the words, and she'd melt like that cold Chinese princess."

Steve swallowed hard. It wasn't every day a SEAL felt this nervous.

"Man, you wouldn't have known they were that funny after seeing them mowing down an entire crew of bad guys the other night," Cam said, changing the subject, probably for his sake. "Patty wouldn't appreciate them mocking the opera. I'm glad I read the story from the library, man; otherwise, I wouldn't have any freaking idea why she is so d.a.m.n bloodthirsty. She's kind of mean, if you ask me, ignoring the poor dude like that when he gave her everything! And then still wouldn't marry him when he got the answers right! Man, talk about cold!"

Steve looked at Cam closely to see whether he was catching the irony of his words, but his friend was oblivious to the fact that he was talking more of himself than the opera. When Cam pulled out a stick of chewing gum and looked longingly at it, Steve couldn't help it. He said, "It's okay to chew gum inside, you know."

Cam shook his head. "Wouldn't go with the penguin suit, man. Besides, opera and gum just don't go together, you know?"

That was what made Cam, Cam, Steve wanted to tell him, but changed his mind. His friend wanted his princess's approval and attention, and was doing what it took. He understood frustration. He felt plenty of it these days himself. "So tell me what's going to happen next so I don't have to read the program."

"It's kind of cool. He guessed her name as the answer to the third riddle and she got p.i.s.sed off because she didn't think he would win her, right? So the dude-prince turns the tables on her in the next act. He tells her she can chop off his head if she can answer his riddle, which is what his name is."

"Did she find out?"

"Nope. But she gave the right answer anyway. You'll see." Cam looked around for the girls and shrugged. "Women. What do they do in the ladies' rest room, anyway?"

"I don't think they're giving an impromptu Blues Brothers act," Steve replied wryly, and watched as Hawk caught up with them. "Are they still in there?"

Hawk shrugged. "They're always like that. They are called The Three Stooges."

"Hard to figure out why," Steve said. "Cam, you really did read up on the whole opera! What for? Thought you didn't like opera."

"Well, Patty does," Cam said simply, as if that was explanation enough.

"Conversation with the girl," Hawk gave his take on Cam's actions.

"You surprised me, too," Steve said to his cousin. "You looked like you enjoyed it."

Hawk shrugged again. "I don't get to enjoy civilized culture enough. It's a good reminder that we're all human beings."

Cam snorted. "Yeah, right. That Princess Turandot says 'Off with his head,' if any suitors can't come up with the right answer to her riddles. Very civilized."

Steve understood what Hawk was saying, but opted to make light conversation. This wasn't the time to wax philosophical about their real jobs. "Hey, those were tough riddles. And the main man answered all three correctly, so there. A civilized ending."

"Be still my heart," Marlena's low sultry voice cut into the conversation. "Three men talking about the opera in a.n.a.lytic terms. What happened to the other three?"

"You don't want to know," Steve said with a grin, admiring the way the dark blue of her calf-length dress darkened the blue of her eyes. She was so beautiful, standing there with a gla.s.s of champagne, her head tilted to one side mockingly. The pearl and diamond choker around her neck caught the lobby lights and made her eyes sparkle even brighter.

He stepped closer and ran a caressing hand down her back, which was bare, except for two spaghetti straps crisscrossing it. No bra, he told himself, and immediately felt a familiar heat rising. He slid his hand to her lower back and felt her slight tremble. Pulling her closer, he murmured, "Are you ready to go see the final act? I heard the prince kicks some a.s.s and wins the princess's hand."

On cue, the lights in the lobby dimmed and brightened several times in warning. Steve held on to Marlena's hand as they made their way back inside.

Marlena pressed a hand over her fluttering stomach. She couldn't believe it. She was nervous. She was an operative trained to be casual in life-and-death situations, to acknowledge fear as a survival tool to keep on her toes at all times. She was very seldom nervous.

She wondered whether Stash sensed her tension. Watching him made her catch her breath. The midnight-gray of his superbly cut Valentino fit his tall, well-toned body, emphasizing broad shoulders, and the longer back of the suit gave her fantasies about the narrow male hips. He had on a light gray waistcoat with pearl b.u.t.tons, and she had fastened a little gold chain into his breast pocket. He looked every inch the refined gentleman. Except for the predatory air he exuded whenever he cast those eyes around watchfully. And the way he touched her when no one else was watching. They weren't the touches of a refined gentlemen at all.

He was actually making an effort to enjoy himself. She knew how uncomfortable he was in this setting, and even though she enjoyed teasing him, she had only to remember how he looked and acted aboard the ship the other night to know that the veneer over the hunter was very thin. That night he had acted thoroughly in charge of the situation, and so masterful and male afterward, it made her think about what he really was like outside his life in D.C.

But she couldn't bear to lose him, not yet anyway. She had thought long and hard about it for a few days now, and had decided that she couldn't just end it with him, just like that. He wanted her, didn't he? As much as she wanted him.

So. She would devise a plan to make them both happy. It would give him time to adjust in his new job as liaison and work with his new team. And it would give her back some measure of control. She wasn't at all sure where everything fit, but that could wait. As soon as she told him her new a.s.signment, everything would fall into its slot. And she would be in charge again.

The hotel suite was blessedly quiet when they returned. She wasn't used to being with so many people who were friends. It seemed more...work, somehow. She unb.u.t.toned her long jacket, a faux fur ensemble that matched her outfit.

"What are you smiling about?" Stash broke into her thoughts. He, too, had taken off his jacket, wearing only his suit, and was already busy pulling at his tie.

Marlena sat on the edge of the bed to take off her heels. "I was laughing at myself because I was thinking it was more work to be among friends than at my usual functions."

"What do you mean?"

He came to join her on the bed, and his cologne, mingled with his scent, gently tantalized her senses. He picked up her foot and idly pulled the strap loose. The feel of his fingers was erotic as he traced them along the arch of her hosed heel. "I guess I'm not used to just going out and having a good time," admitted Marlena. "If I'm dressed up and out socially, it's always been during an a.s.signment, and I'd be on cruise-control."

"Because the people you b.u.mped into were meant to b.u.mp into you, and you would just be Marlena Maxwell," Steve finished for her. He picked up her other foot.

"Hmm..." Marlena agreed, half closing her eyes.

"You aren't vulnerable when you aren't with friends, since they don't know the real you."

Opening her eyes, Marlena looked at Steve. She had never seen that expression on his face before. Again her stomach started fluttering. "I don't like being vulnerable," she said.

"That's why you like to be alone, in control. It makes you less vulnerable. I don't know what happened in your past that made you decide this is the way to go, and it probably works for you, but it's not working for me, Lena."

"What are you talking about?"

"You know, you're like that Princess Turandot. You don't like to share yourself."

Marlena struggled to balance herself as she tried to sit up with her feet still in his lap. This was not a good bargaining position. "You're saying that I chop up all my suitors?" she asked, injecting humor in her voice though the gathering tension was like oxygen being sucked slowly out of a room.

"You keep asking the riddles, Lena, and I keep giving. I want to be with you, you know that. I want to be more than one of your suitors who look at you adoringly."

"What are you talking about?" She repeated the question, enunciating each word carefully. She hadn't expected this much antagonism. Why was he so mad?

"Du Scheum was looking at you tonight. So were other men connected to you in the past."

"Stash, that was part of my job. They meant nothing to me."

"And me?"

Marlena stared up into those eyes, still not sure what was going on. "What does this have to do with the opera?" she demanded. "I thought we had a good time."

"We did, didn't we." He made the sentence rhetorical. "And what are we going to do next, more operas? More functions? Who will be your next lackey?"

He had her trapped, his hand holding her ankle and his eyes challenging hers. Marlena licked her lips. "We'll have time for ourselves," she began.

"When?"

"I mean, we can spend a few days together after I return from Tibet. And we have some time before that as I prepare for the a.s.signment."

There was a heavy pause. "Tibet," Steve said silkily.

"Yes, it's the perfect a.s.signment after this unusually high-profile one. The deal I made with Mad Max will be known all over soon, and every step I take now will be scrutinized by all sides. Tibet will cut down on the media and spies."

"And I'm supposed to sit around waiting for your call? When were you going to tell me?"

She searched his eyes, saw the anger. She tried to sound reasonable, use logic, the way he always did with her. "Stash, you'll be busy starting your new position. And you will have to meet with many new people. What did you want me to do? We have the next week and then-"

"No."

It was a quiet sort of explosion, but just as deadly. It stopped Marlena cold. "No, what?"

"No. I want you to marry me."

She straightened up then, eyes wide. The fluttering in her stomach felt like wings struggling against a hurricane. "M-marry? Marry you?" she squeaked out. Panic filled her. Marriage?

"Yes. I want to be more than a lover. I want our lives together to be more than a mere schedule to you. I talked a bit to Alex when I handed over the pager, and there are ways, Lena, ways in this outfit where couples work together. I don't want you going off to Tibet without me. There are ways I can contribute to the a.s.signments. And if you go to another of your functions, I want you to be married to me then, to know that you're only mine."

"Married?" she could only repeat the word, dumb-founded. She hadn't expected this. She needed time to think about this. "I had thought...we...can't we just take this slowly? I...I...marriage is permanent!"

Steve stared at her a moment, and then let her feet go. He leaned over her, forcing her flat on her back. "Yes, it is," he agreed.

She licked lips that had gone suddenly dry. "But marriage needs..." She couldn't end the sentence because it was one word she didn't want to say. Marriage needed love. She dared not say it. Love meant commitment, and giving in, and compromise. Love meant the old fear of being told she wasn't giving back enough. Love turned things upside-down, inside-out, made people strike out to hurt. Love ended as an option a long time ago, when someone she'd loved betrayed her because he'd thought one failed mission would put her behind a desk. "Stash..."

He shook his head. "Lena, I've given you everything so far. You give now."

"Tell me what you want," she asked. Anything but marriage. Anything.

"You. Your name. h.e.l.l, I don't even know what GEM stands for! You know so much about me and you don't give me a thing."

"You have me now," she protested. Didn't he see how hard this was for her? "I want you, too, and what we have now is good, isn't it?"

He leaned down closer, his lips inches from her own. "Marry me. Take the step."

She opened her mouth. She lifted her head to kiss him, but he rose a little higher, out of reach. She shook her head, trying to clear away all the panicky thoughts.

His face turned hard and he slowly sat back up. "You want time to do all your probabilities and percentages bulls.h.i.t, just in case you need to walk away. Fine, Lena." He stood up, stepped away from the bed. "You do that."

Marlena felt suddenly cold. She wanted him on the bed with her. From where she lay, he looked so distant, like...like..."What are you doing?" She sat up, true panic invading her voice.

"I'm making it easy for you, Lena. You see, you don't have to do it. I'm walking away."

This wasn't supposed to be happening! Why was it happening? She rolled off the bed to go after him. "Stash! d.a.m.n it, quit being so melodramatic!"

She made a grab for his arm, but he turned and caught her hand first, jerking her body against his hard muscular chest. His other hand curved behind her neck, and his lips crushed hers. His anger lashed at her but she opened her mouth anyway, trying to communicate the only way she knew how at the moment, but his tongue and mouth remained punishing, demanding something. And because she yielded, molding her body to his, he grew angrier still, tilting her head back until she had to grab his shirt to stay on her feet.

When he let her go, she tasted blood. His eyes were so dark with emotion she couldn't even make out the pupils. His voice was as ragged as her breathing. "It's Steve," he said and shook her. "My name is Steve. I'll give you your precious freedom, M. I'm not going to come to you anymore. You can ask someone else to play your kissing games with you."

He gave her a hard enough shove that she stumbled backward. Normally she would have caught her balance with no problem, but she felt gutted by the expression in his face as he turned away. He was walking away! Leaving her!

All she had to do was say the right words. Make the right moves. Shock tingled through her system as she realized that she couldn't bear a future without him. But she still couldn't utter those words when he closed the door quietly behind him.

"Don't," she managed to whisper, all too late, "leave me."

But those weren't the words that really mattered, and she knew it.

Chapter Twenty-seven.

H e'd lied. He couldn't give her the freedom she craved. Two weeks. He had sworn to give her two weeks to make up her mind, and then he would go after her. Well, it had been three long weeks now, and it was pretty clear that she wasn't coming for him.

He knew what he did was a gamble, but he had been too p.i.s.sed to care that night. He had a ring and a dream in his pocket, and she had told him to keep them there while she weighed all her options. He took a last swallow of beer and crushed the can in his hand.

Well, he was glad he decided not to sit around and wait for her to chop him to pieces. He had known she would run. That p.i.s.sed him off to no end, no matter that he'd known she would react that way. He had hoped that she might take a chance with the future.

He was glad the past weeks had been so busy that he didn't have time to sit and brood, but he'd finished the first phase of training two days ago, and was given a week off before the second phase began. And through all this time, he had kept hoping to hear from her.

Not even a call. Let's face it-she'd dumped him. He dropped the flattened aluminum can into the nearby basket, then opened the cooler to get another.

"If you plan to drink yourself into oblivion the remaining days off, why the h.e.l.l did you need to come bother me here?" Hawk asked from a few feet away. He didn't even glance at Steve as he sat on a stool working on some ropes.

Steve didn't tell him that he had nowhere else to go. He certainly didn't feel like going back to D.C. to an empty apartment. Eventually he would have to. But not yet, not so soon. He couldn't bear to walk around and think about Marlena.

So he had dropped in at Hawk's island off the coast of Florida. It was perfect. Hawk called it his sanctuary, and he understood why. It was just the place for someone like Hawk who needed downtime when he returned from some not-so-civilized corner of the world, and wasn't ready to face the neat and tidy lawns of their orderly society yet. The island was private, small enough that the hotels didn't bother with it, and wild enough for a man like his cousin.

But he wasn't Hawk. He didn't want to be alone on some freaking island. He wanted to be with the woman who was driving him slowly out of his mind. He had never felt this vulnerable before, as if someone had ripped him open and left him exposed to the elements. Why the h.e.l.l did he pour his heart out to her when he had known she would run away?

He finished the can of beer. Crushed it.

"You know," Hawk interrupted his thoughts again, cutting the rope in his hand with his Bowie knife, "having my soft-bellied cousin around in perfect eighty-degree sailing weather, growing fatter and drunker by the second, just isn't my idea of fun."

"If you're trying to tick me off by insulting my conditioning, it isn't going to happen," Steve told him. "Next week they're going to test my physical skills, so why shouldn't I sit back and relax while I can?"

"Relaxation before their kind of tests will kill you," Hawk countered, still not looking at him. His knife cut another splay of rope in half. "This isn't your usual outfit with minimal pa.s.sing grades, Steve. They're going to find out what you're made of."

"I'm a SEAL operative," Steve said, and he c.o.c.ked his head arrogantly, "trained under Admiral Madison, who is the head of the STAR Force, one of the best in covert activities. You think I can't handle what they're going to put in front of me?"

Hawk's hand blurred with sudden speed. The Bowie knife snapped through the air and punctured the aluminum can in Steve's hand. If Steve had reacted in surprise, it would have cut his arm, but he just sat there, woodenly looking at Hawk through narrowed slits, beer dribbling down the can onto his T-shirt and into his pants.