Exposure Page 23

  "So what was I, just an added bonus?" There was a trace of bitterness in his voice she couldn't ignore.

  "Of course not. But it isn't as simple as you're making it."

  "We make of situations what we want, Melissa. You know that as well as I do."

  "So now you're dispensing pseudopsychology? Relationships take work. Lots of it. And the primary requirement, as far as I can tell, is that the people involved be present a majority of the time. That isn't us, Nigel, and you know it."

  "So where do we go from here?" He looked so sad, so uncertain.

  She wanted to wrap her arms around him and tell him it would be all right. But it wouldn't. That was the crux of the problem. One or both of them was always going to be walking the line. And she simply wasn't up to taking the chance. She'd lost too much already, and she couldn't bear the idea of losing anything more—especially Nigel.

  Better to keep her heart sequestered.

  "Surely we can operate on a professional level. At least until we find the R-VX and figure out how all of it interrelates."

  "And once everything is tied up with a neat little bow? What then?"

  "We walk away." The words came out of their own accord, and the instant they were out she wished them back. Not because they weren't true, but because they sounded so final.

  "Again." Nigel shook his head as if he couldn't quite make himself accept the reality. But she could see in his eyes that he knew she was right.

  She nodded. "I don't see an alternative. Neither of us is going to retire, and neither of us can afford the risk of an en-tanglement. The cost would simply be too high."

  He opened his mouth to argue, but then changed his mind, his expression hardening. "I suppose you're right. There's no sense in starting something we can't finish."

  She hated the fact that she'd killed the hope in his eyes, but she knew that eventually he'd have gotten there on his own. It was better that she did it now, before it could possibly hurt any worse than it already did.

  She stared down at her hands, trying to think of something to say. Words that would make their parting easier. Make their working together less stressful. But nothing came to mind. She should have stopped things last night. Fought against feelings she knew couldn't possibly last, but when she was with him it was so easy to forget all of that. To believe, if only for an instant, that there were happily ever afters.

  "I'm sorry, I..." She looked up, still not certain what it was she wanted to say, but it was too late.

  Nigel was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  PART OF HIM wanted to smash the whiskey bottle against the wall, and another part of him insisted that it would be better to drain the thing first, while still another part of him—the part that carried his father's genes, no doubt—was reciting the disadvantages of ruining Cullen's priceless Oriental wallpaper.

  So instead Nigel opted for pouring a measure of bourbon into a glass, removing himself from further temptation. Women were pains in the asses. At least one of them was. He settled into a wing chair by the fire.

  The library was smaller than Cullen's study, but no less luxuriously appointed. First editions lined three walls, the fourth dominated by a massive fireplace that had to have been brought, stone by stone, from some Anglican stronghold. The room and all its opulence reminded Nigel of Laversham, and despite the fact that he usually avoided all thoughts of home, at the moment the surroundings brought a decided degree of comfort. At least things there were predictable. Unless of course Andrew was around.

  He smiled, thinking of his brother. Although Andrew was considered the black sheep of the family with his tabloid exploits, Nigel sometimes wondered if his little brother wasn't by far the more normal of the two. At least he seemed content with his place in life.

  Which was more than Nigel could say.

  He lifted the glass, the desire to smash the Baccarat returning with a vengeance.

  "Not usually the best way to solve problems." Madison stood near the doorway, a crooked smile lighting her face "Besides, Cullen would have a fit."

  Nigel lowered the glass with a sigh. "I wasn't really going to throw it."

  "Right." Madison walked in to sit down in the leather chair opposite him. "So we'll just ignore my fortuitous timing. Thinking about the case, or has a certain redhead got you down?"

  He started to lie and then thought better of it. Madison would see through him anyway. "Definitely the latter. I was lamenting the fact that I don't seem to know one bloody thing about women."

  "I sincerely doubt that that's true. Can I have some of that?" She nodded toward the decanter of bourbon and Nigel obligingly filled a glass.

  "So what are you doing up? I hardly think you're having relationship troubles."

  "Well, not the sort you're thinking of anyway," Madison said, taking the glass. "I'm afraid I'm having serious munch-kin withdrawal."

  "Andrea."

  "Yeah. I hadn't planned to be away this long. And despite the fact that Gabe did his best to relax me—" her grin was coy "—I'm still awake."

  "And still missing your baby."

  "Exactly." She took a sip. "Which is why I'm leaving in the morning. I hate to be a party pooper, but I think you all can handle this one on your own. Anything you need from me can be done by cell phone."

  "You're leaving New York?"

  Madison shrugged. "Seems prudent. We've got a cabin in Pennsylvania. We'll go there."

  "Babies change everything." Nigel stared down into his drink, not certain to whom exactly he was addressing the statement.

  "For the better."

  "I know that." He looked up to meet Madison's somber gaze. "I knew it the instant I first held Andrea, and she isn't even mine. I admire you for what you're doing."

  "Being a mother?" She paused, sipping from her glass, considering his words. "It's nothing out of the ordinary. More like the natural order of things."

  "But you're able to put her needs above all else, and give up anything that gets in the way of that. Gabe would do the same."

  "I suppose he would. But again, it wasn't much of a sacrifice. You'll understand someday when you have children."

  "Somehow I don't think that's in the cards." He was back to staring into the amber depths of the bourbon. "Some people just aren't father material."

  "Some people maybe," Madison agreed. "But not you. You'd be an amazing dad, Nigel. No question about it."

  "But I haven't any of the skills, and I hardly lead a life suitable for child rearing."

  "And I do?" Madison laughed. "Look, Andrea is Gabe's and my life now, granted. But that doesn't mean either of us has had to sacrifice ourselves. We still do what we love, we just make sure to keep family first."

  "I've never had a family. At least not that kind. My father was more inclined to entertain the Queen than he was to have a meal with his children. We were to be seen and not heard, our only use our guarantee that the illustrious line of Laver-sham would continue on."

  "My family wasn't all that normal, either." Madison set her glass down on the table. "You've met my father. He's not exactly Father Knows Best material. It isn't about where we've come from. It's about where we're going."

  "I'm going nowhere fast, apparently. At least if Melissa has anything to do with it."

  "And so we reach the crux of the problem." Her knowing eyes were assessing.

  "She doesn't want me, Madison. It's as simple as that."

  "Nothing is ever truly simple, Nigel. Especially where matters of the heart are concerned. Melissa has issues, but they aren't with you."

  "Been doing a little profiling, have you?"

  "Occupational hazard," she said with a laugh. "I can't help) myself."

  "So if her issues aren't with me, then who are they with?" Nigel sat forward, not sure exactly what to expect. "The boyfriends of Christmas past?"

  "If you want my honest opinion, I don't think there have been any others, Christmas or otherwise. I think Melissa fell in love with you all th
ose years ago in Italy."

  "Right. And that would explain why she walked away without so much as a backward glance."

  "It hurt you. I know that. But it hurt her, too."

  "And I'm supposed to believe that because..." He let the words hang, reaching over to refill his glass.

  "How much do you know about her past?"

  "Melissa's?" He thought back on what she'd told him. "Her parents are gone. I think her mother died. She and Alicia are close." He shook his head. "I don't think she really said much more than that."

  "Her father ran out on her when she was almost twelve. Alicia was eleven. Then three years later her mother died."

  "I remember," Nigel said, "they went to live with an aunt. Right?"

  "Yes. But the woman wasn't interested in children, especially girls. Melissa was the one who looked out for her sister when the aunt found a new husband and kicked the girls out of the house. The girls wound up in Austin, where Melissa worked two jobs to get them both through school."

  "She's an amazing woman. But then I've always known that."

  "You're missing the point." Madison's smile was tolerant, as if she were speaking to a slow learner. "Melissa has spent her whole life losing people she loved. First her father, then her mother and then her aunt. None of them leaving for the same reason, but all of them nevertheless bowing out just when she needed them most."

  "What about Alicia? She's always had her sister."

  "More or less, but in Melissa's mind I think she sees Alicia's marriage as another betrayal. Not that she begrudges her sister's happiness. More that she feels it's a withdrawal. A shift of loyalties if you will."

  "But I don't see—" he began, but Madison waved him quiet.

  "She ran out on you, Nigel, because she was afraid. Then and now. She believes that if she gives you her heart there will come a day when you'll give it back."

  "But I'd never do that."

  "You might not do it purposefully, but given the way you live your life, it's a distinct possibility that something could happen to you, and Melissa would lose you, even if through no fault of your own."

  "But everyone runs those kinds of risks. Granted, some more than others. But still, isn't it worth the effort?"

  Madison smiled. "So why are you sitting here?"

  "Oh, bloody hell." He couldn't help his grin. "You haven't just been talking about Melissa's fears, have you?"

  "Not all people are attracted to opposites, Nigel. Likes can also attract."

  "But she told me in no uncertain terms that there couldn't be a future between us."

  "And you're going to accept that? Let her make the decisions for both of you? Sometimes when someone runs away it's because they desperately want to be found."

  "But she didn't run this time."

  "Maybe not physically, but there are all kinds of running. Look, I don't mean to play Dr. Phil here, but get off your butt and go after her. What the hell are you waiting for? Fate's given you a second chance—take advantage of the fact. Don't let her go without a fight."

  "But what if she's right? What if something does happen?"

  "Then at least you'll have had whatever time there was. Life isn't about guarantees. It's about taking chances. So..." She inclined her head toward the door. "Go."

  IF SHE WAS SO all-fired certain about what it was she wanted in life, why the hell didn't she feel relieved? She'd nipped the problem in the bud, but instead of getting a good night's sleep, Melissa was standing at the window staring out at the night, wishing Nigel would materialize out of the mist.

  Silly notion.

  She was acting like a moonstruck adolescent.

  She turned away from the window to the fire, the heat sending shards of memory slicing through her. Everything iri the room reminded her of Nigel. The bed, the fire, the chair. God, she wanted him.

  More than she'd have believed possible. But then she also wanted a gallon of Ben & Jerry's fudge brownie ice cream and she wasn't acting on that fantasy, either. Best to stick to safer harbors.

  She sat down on the bed, staring at the flames, little pops and hisses breaking through the silence filling the room, giving an air, at least, of comfort. Last night she'd reached out for happiness, and barely twenty-four hours later she'd thrown it all out the window.

  Her head was high-fiving with self-satisfaction, but her heart wasn't so certain. Maybe some risks were worth taking. She lived every day in the moment professionally. So why not live that way in her private life? So what if there could ba nothing permanent between her and Nigel? She had now Most people weren't even afforded that much.

  She was cutting her nose off to spite her face, for fear of crossing a bridge she hadn't even reached yet. And apparently she was also the queen of the cliché.

  She shook her head, cutting off the monologue. If she wanted any peace at all, she needed to find Nigel. To prove to him that she wasn't running away. Nothing had really changed. They still didn't have a future, but that didn't mean they couldn't at least enjoy the moment. Right?

  With a sigh she reached for the doorknob, surprised when it turned in her hand. She jumped back as the door swung open, wishing she had the gun she'd taken from Cullen. This was supposed to be a safe house, but what the hell did she re-ally know about any of them?

  "I didn't mean to frighten you." Nigel stood in the door-way, his expression resolute. "It's just that you had your say, and now I want mine."

  She opened her mouth to respond, but he shook his head, raising a hand to silence her.

  "My turn."

  She nodded and sank down on the end of the bed, her heart pounding for reasons she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.

  "I heard what you said earlier. Every word of it." His face tightened with the memory. "And for about an hour I bought into it. You're right, people in our line of work exist from minute to minute. Never really knowing what's going to happen next, or if we'll come out of it all in one piece. But just because we've chosen to live on the edge doesn't mean we're not allowed to be happy, to find peace wherever it might present itself. I don't believe that. If I did, I couldn't have fallen in love with you all those years ago." He sucked in a breath, his gaze colliding with hers. "I couldn't love you now. It's as simple as that. And I'll be damned if I'll just let you walk away without a fight."

  Melissa stood up, joy and terror shooting through her in equal measures. "What did you say?"

  "That I'm going to fight for us."

  "No." Her voice came out on a tortured whisper. "Before that."

  "I said that I love you." Nigel closed the distance between them, his hands on her shoulders, the heat in his eyes threatening to envelop her. "I can't promise you a future. Hell, I can't even promise you a present. But I know how I feel, and it's not something to be thrown out with the trash just because I'm afraid."

  "You're afraid?" The idea seemed ludicrous. Nigel was the strongest person she knew.

  "More than I've ever been in my life. But I can't let that be an excuse for losing you. Not if you feel the same way that I do." He waited, his eyes searching.

  She licked her lips, her brain urging denial, but lying wasn't her style. "I don't know what I feel, Nigel." His jaw tightened, and she reached up to caress his face. "I'm not saying this right. I mean that I haven't ever felt this way about anyone before. I can't put a label on it. Not easily. But I can't imagine walking away from you now and never feeling like this again."

  "So don't walk."

  If only it were that simple. But then again maybe it was.

  She stepped into his embrace, tipping her head back, offering him more than just her lips. "I'm here."

  "I need more than that. I need to know where you'll be tomorrow."

  "In bed with you?" She hadn't meant for it to be a question, but some part of her still wasn't sure, her fear threatening to consume everything that she wanted.

  "That's a given." His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "But it's your heart I'm worried about, not your body."
/>
  "I can't promise something I don't even understand myself. You of all people should understand that."

  "I know that I'm tired of waking up alone. And if you'll give me the chance, I want to prove that I'm worth sticking around for." His vulnerability humbled her.

  "Oh, Nigel," she said. "I've never questioned you. It's me I don't trust. I'm the one who's likely to run for the hills. And believe me, it has nothing at all to do with you."

  "Then maybe I just need to hold you tighter." His arms closed around her, underscoring his words with searing intensity.

  She released a breath, trembling beneath his touch. "I think that's a wonderful idea."

  They stood for a moment more, linked by the heat of their bodies and the desperation of their need. In her whole life, she'd never needed anyone the way she did Nigel. And the intervening years between their meeting and reuniting seemed only to have cemented the bond.

  She hadn't ever believed that a man and a woman could truly be fated—until now. And the thought made her shudder with possibility and fear. If she was wrong...

  But she wasn't the kind of woman to live her life on regret. Nigel was here now. And she'd be a fool to turn her back on the one thing that made her feel whole. There would be consequences to pay. Of that she had no doubt. But she couldn't walk away. It was as simple as that.

  "Kiss me." Her whispered words were more than an invitation. They signaled surrender. Wherever they went next, they'd go together. The decision was made and there would be no turning back.

  He groaned and pulled her hard against him, his kiss possessive. His hands traced the contour of her back and butt, each stroke sending pleasure rocketing through her. She thrust her tongue against his, the taste of him exotic and familiar at the same time.

  She pressed closer, reveling in the sensation of their bodies writhing together, pleasure in every undulating move. Theirs was a dance older than time, the need to become one driving every move, every thought. Only with this man could she truly be whole.