planned to join her wherever she was, he 'd better get himself under control with a nice cool shower.
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood, and stretched. Man, he 'd slept well, on his side, with her bottom in his lap.
And, yeah, he was hard again.
But they needed to talk.
No, he needed to talk. To tell her.
They 'd been honest with their bodies, now it was time for plain honesty.
Chapter Eight
Janey sipped her coffee at the kitchen table and looked out on Matt's mother's grassy back yard. The lower spots were flooded, but the yard had survived. Power was back. She'd watched the local news. Flooding had been bad, especially in the low-lying areas of downtown. The bridges were being checked, but no word was expected until at least noon.
No telephone or cell phone service, not yet. At least not hers. She 'd been tempted to check Matt's, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She reminded herself he'd said it would be days before he heard.
But she couldn 't help wondering if he'd told her everything. Did he already know what had happened to JP? Would he tell her what he knew?
Could he?
He'd shared himself more than willingly during the overnight hours. She wasn't going to snoop his cell phone to find out what he might not be able to tell her. It wouldn't be right under normal circumstances. But circumstances weren't normal with Matt, given what he did. They never would be. Something she had to keep reminding herself of.
He was not going to offer a happily ever after. He was not going to be here. The best she could hope for was a few days or weeks between assignments.
If he even wanted that much.
And if he did, did she? Did she want a part-time lover? A man who couldn 't give her permanence?
She was selfishly thinking of herself. Matt had given her last night. Prom night, he 'd said after the second time they'd made love. Actually, what he'd said was, "Did I make up for missing your prom?"
That had initiated their third loving.
Love.
Yes, she loved him.
She was in love with a man who would never have a normal life. Had she been in love with him since high school? Could hero worship really be love?
Not hero worship now. She 'd left that behind years ago. She'd been falling in love with him over the years. When they'd seen each other and talked when he was home. But they'd always been with family. His, hers, their mothers' friendship a connection that kept them forever in each other's orbit. This had been different. The two of them, alone, in a place out of time.
The passion had been real, but could passion really be the catalyst that made her fall in love?
Yes. Yes because he'd let her be her. He'd sweetly danced with her. In the dark.
Dancing in the dark.
And that was the hitch in everything. She knew what he did. Dark ops, CIA paramilitary. No, no one ever told her, just as no one, not even JP, said what they did. But she knew.
Yes, they 'd been dancing in the dark.
***
Matt watched her from the hallway. She wasn't the gorgeous tall blond most men would gravitate toward. She was…beyond stunning. Her dark hair fell in curls onto her shoulders. She normally wore it pulled back, or straighter. During one of the mindless one-liners he'd managed to deliver in the middle of a particularly erotic moment, he'd told her he liked seeing it wavy and curling around her face.
Did she remember? Or had the lack of a rubber band forced her to leave it down?
Suddenly it became important that she'd left it down because he liked it that way.
She 'd dried her clothes and wore the skirt and blouse again. She crossed one leg over the other, twining it the way he'd seen some women do. Then she kicked it free and began jiggling it. During his long-ago, over-hormoned youth, he'd heard that women who jiggled their foot like that needed sex. Now he knew better. She'd—they'd—had mind-blowing sex. Four times.
No, she was worried about her brother. That was why she 'd come here. She hadn't come
Swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, he stood, and stretched. Man, he 'd slept well, on his side, with her bottom in his lap.
And, yeah, he was hard again.
But they needed to talk.
No, he needed to talk. To tell her.
They 'd been honest with their bodies, now it was time for plain honesty.
Chapter Eight
Janey sipped her coffee at the kitchen table and looked out on Matt's mother's grassy back yard. The lower spots were flooded, but the yard had survived. Power was back. She'd watched the local news. Flooding had been bad, especially in the low-lying areas of downtown. The bridges were being checked, but no word was expected until at least noon.
No telephone or cell phone service, not yet. At least not hers. She 'd been tempted to check Matt's, but couldn't bring herself to do it. She reminded herself he'd said it would be days before he heard.
But she couldn 't help wondering if he'd told her everything. Did he already know what had happened to JP? Would he tell her what he knew?
Could he?
He'd shared himself more than willingly during the overnight hours. She wasn't going to snoop his cell phone to find out what he might not be able to tell her. It wouldn't be right under normal circumstances. But circumstances weren't normal with Matt, given what he did. They never would be. Something she had to keep reminding herself of.
He was not going to offer a happily ever after. He was not going to be here. The best she could hope for was a few days or weeks between assignments.
If he even wanted that much.
And if he did, did she? Did she want a part-time lover? A man who couldn 't give her permanence?
She was selfishly thinking of herself. Matt had given her last night. Prom night, he 'd said after the second time they'd made love. Actually, what he'd said was, "Did I make up for missing your prom?"
That had initiated their third loving.
Love.
Yes, she loved him.
She was in love with a man who would never have a normal life. Had she been in love with him since high school? Could hero worship really be love?
Not hero worship now. She 'd left that behind years ago. She'd been falling in love with him over the years. When they'd seen each other and talked when he was home. But they'd always been with family. His, hers, their mothers' friendship a connection that kept them forever in each other's orbit. This had been different. The two of them, alone, in a place out of time.
The passion had been real, but could passion really be the catalyst that made her fall in love?
Yes. Yes because he'd let her be her. He'd sweetly danced with her. In the dark.
Dancing in the dark.
And that was the hitch in everything. She knew what he did. Dark ops, CIA paramilitary. No, no one ever told her, just as no one, not even JP, said what they did. But she knew.
Yes, they 'd been dancing in the dark.
***
Matt watched her from the hallway. She wasn't the gorgeous tall blond most men would gravitate toward. She was…beyond stunning. Her dark hair fell in curls onto her shoulders. She normally wore it pulled back, or straighter. During one of the mindless one-liners he'd managed to deliver in the middle of a particularly erotic moment, he'd told her he liked seeing it wavy and curling around her face.
Did she remember? Or had the lack of a rubber band forced her to leave it down?
Suddenly it became important that she'd left it down because he liked it that way.
She 'd dried her clothes and wore the skirt and blouse again. She crossed one leg over the other, twining it the way he'd seen some women do. Then she kicked it free and began jiggling it. During his long-ago, over-hormoned youth, he'd heard that women who jiggled their foot like that needed sex. Now he knew better. She'd—they'd—had mind-blowing sex. Four times.
No, she was worried about her brother. That was why she 'd come here. She hadn't come
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