A Perilous Eden by Heather Graham Page A

willing, I can also use some help!”
    She’d never been in a man’s bed before, but she was in his that night. For her, it had not been a question of morality; it had been a question of what she wanted. And she wanted him. He could remember the feel of her that night. Like satin. She’d been young and firm and incredibly beautiful, and touching the fullness of her breast had been intoxicating. He’d never known such an intense feeling of satisfaction as he had from her, yet it was the aftermath that stayed with him, that haunted him.
    She’d asked him how he’d become an American when his mother was an Israeli. He’d explained that he should have been Russian, or Polish, and she’d thought he was kidding. He had laughed, too, then started whispering obscene things to her in Russian. In the end she had laughed some more, and they’d made love again. When they were done that time, she got him talking about the service, about the jungle, about the terror of being in a war. He’d learned then that she was still in the military; she’d talked about it easily.
    â€œIt’s just something we do here, Adam. It wasn’t so long after the war that I was born. We were raised knowing that we must always fight, that we must preserve our land to preserve our lives.”
    She was fascinated by his command of languages.
    â€œIt’s a gift,” she told him.
    â€œYou’re a gift,” he’d responded. And she’d laughed and told him that she’d known his Russian had been dirty, but she wanted him to say beautiful things to her in Italian and French—weren’t those the languages for lovers?
    In the days that followed, he began to see Israel through her eyes. Her commander came to meet him one day, and he found himself engaged in a full-scale discussion of munitions and explosives. He’d seen Sonia and the man exchange glances, and that night, with her hair tangled across his bare chest, he’d asked her if she was seducing him for herself or for the Israeli military.
    â€œBoth,” she had admitted eagerly. “Adam, we need you. You’re vibrant, you’re a fighter! You’re part of all this. It’s in your blood, whether you wish to admit it or not. We need you.…”
    â€œWe?” he’d asked her, and despite her gentle touch, his body had stiffened.
    â€œI need you.…”
    And it was true. She needed him. Israel needed him. The United States was allegedly at peace.
    He married Sonia; he became an Israeli. He took a special-assignments job with the government, and he kept fighting.
    It had taken five years for Reba to come along. And Sonia, despite her desire to keep working, had never been so ecstatic over anything as she had been over motherhood. They’d lain one night with the baby between them, checking her fingers and toes and laughing over her fuzzy black hair. And Sonia had said, “Oh, Lord, Adam! That we have created her … I love her so much it terrifies me.” She’d shuddered then, almost as if she’d had a premonition. “Oh, Adam! We must promise ourselves—if something should happen to me, you must love her all your life. You must guard her all your life.…”
    He’d laughed. Sonia’s job was at a desk then. “Nothing is going to happen to you. We will grow old and fat together and make her insane because we won’t let her date until she’s thirty.”
    Sonia hadn’t laughed. “Promise me, Adam!” He had seen how serious she was, so he had kissed her tenderly and held her, and sworn that he would joyfully protect both of them with his life.…
    But he’d never had a chance to exchange his life for theirs.
    A passerby walked a wide berth around Adam, and he realized that he was staring at a dummy in a T-shirt, and that his hands were clenched into tight fists at his sides. He started walking again. Now he was really