Iris Johansen - Deadlock

Garrett turned to Emily. "Pick a bedroom. There should be three. Which is pretty palatial for a farmer. And there's supposed to be a lean-to with a comfortable enough mattress and pallet outside the kitchen door. We'll have enough places to sleep."

"And I won't be here that long," Pauley said. "If I can down enough coffee, I'll work all night and see if I can get a breakthrough." He smiled at Emily. "Much as I like the company, this place in the country isn't my idea of resort living."

"I can understand that." Emily smiled back at him. "We appreci¬ate your coming."

"He's being paid very well for coming," Garrett said. "And Pauley getting his work done and getting on his way will be good for all of us."

"That's telling me." Pauley raised his brows. "Little edgy, Gar¬rett?" He didn't wait for an answer, but went to the sink and filled the pot. "That will cost you."

"The price is set."

"But that was before you hurt my feelings," Pauley said. "I charge extra for that."

"And so you should," Emily said as she headed for one of the doors leading off the kitchen. "I'm going to see if I can shower and change my clothes. Where's the bathroom?"

"One bathroom. We share." Dardon said. "It's the door on the other side of the kitchen."

"Not exactly convenient," Pauley said.

"Shut up, Pauley," Dardon said. "I did the best I could on short notice.

"And I get one of the bedrooms," Pauley said. "I'm working and I need privacy and a soft bed to rest my weary and exceptionally bril¬liant head."

Dardon frowned. "The hell you do."

"I'll sleep in the lean-to," Garrett said. "Just get your work done, Pauley."

Pauley smiled. "I may forgive you for being so curt with me." He turned on the stove and put the coffeepot on the flames. "And I may give you a cup of my coffee."

Emily shut the door of the bedroom behind her and leaned against it. She was glad to close them all out and grasp this moment of quiet. They had been going nonstop, sidestepping bullets and jetting across oceans for the last days, and it was catching up with her. There had been only a short period that she had felt safe and content during that time, and it had been linked to those moments on the plane with Garrett.

Intimacy.

But there had been no hint of intimacy in the Garrett who had been cold with Pauley. It had annoyed her again, and she had struck back. Jealousy was absurd in their relationship. Even though he'd ad¬mitted that it was childish, he seemed to be feeling it still.

Why? It wasn't as if she was some Angelina Jolie. She could see a woman like that attracting Garrett. Emily knew that she was a fairly attractive woman and that she had brains and drive. She would not underestimate herself, but she would not make the mistake of believ¬ing that Garrett could be involved with her on a more permanent basis. They were too different. It had to be the situation that was binding them together.

Yes, the situation. That was the answer.

She gazed around the room. Clean, a worn off-white quilt on the bed. Cheap painted nightstand and a bowl and pitcher on the chest by the door. Good enough.

The bed looked particularly good to her. She was in no mood to pass through the kitchen to go to the communal bathroom for a shower.

Later.

She curled up on the bed and pulled the ancient cream-colored quilt over her. Why did old things always seem more soft and com¬fortable…?

SOMEONE WAS KNOCKING.

She opened her eyes. The room was dark. "Emily."

Garrett. She swung her feet to the floor, crossed the room, and opened the door. "Is everything okay?"

"That's what I was going to ask you." He smiled. "You've been in here for almost four hours. But judging by the fact that you're a bit tousled, I'd guess you were taking a nap."

She nodded. "I only meant to-I suppose I was tired."

"I suppose." He stepped aside. "And you were a little tired of us. Me, particularly. But Dardon and Pauley have gone to their rooms, and you can have the house to yourself if you want to take that shower."

She did want a shower. She felt sticky, and her mouth was like cot¬ton. "Is there hot water?"

He nodded. "I lit the water heater."

She went back into the bedroom, opened her duffel, and took out her toothbrush and shampoo. Then she grabbed underclothes, shirt, and pants. "Good. I hate cold showers."

"Me too." He turned and headed back toward the kitchen. "Take your time. I'll make you coffee. You didn't get any from the first pot."

She could smell the coffee as she opened the bathroom door al¬most an hour later. Lord, she loved the smell of fresh coffee.

He smiled as she came toward the table. "Feel better?"

"Yes."

"Want something to eat?"

"No, I had that sandwich on the plane. I'm not hungry."

"That was a long time ago." He poured her coffee. "Maybe later." "Maybe."

He sat down across from her. "Pauley said he's close." "He said that on the plane, too."

"There are a lot of false starts and doubling back in his line of work."

"You sound as if you're familiar with it."

"Familiar, not perfect. That's why I moved on to other endeavors."

"Do you have to be perfect in everything you do?"

"Only in some things. But I have to be damn good, or it drives me crazy until I am."

"I was never that ambitious. I just wanted to accomplish what I set out to do and do it well."

"You grew up with a loving father and a secure home life. I had to be better than anyone else on the street or end up in the gutter. It trained me to be competitive."

"I can see that." She looked at him over the rim of the cup. Even now when he was sitting here, relaxed, she was aware of the vibrancy and wariness that was such an integral part of him. In those first days with Garrett, she had not dreamed she could become so accustomed to being with him. She was wary, too, and she was out of her element with him.

He had stopped smiling, and his gaze was suddenly intent. He was still out of her element.

She could feel her chest tighten, and the heat move through her. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Get a grip.

"I'm still competitive," he said. "You didn't like it when I wasn't all sweetness and light to Pauley. Sorry. It's my nature. I have to pro¬tect what's-" He broke off. "No, you wouldn't like that either. I seem to be saying all the wrong things tonight." He looked down at the coffee in his cup. "But I think it's the time to say them. I think you're ready. God, I hope you're ready."

"Ready for what? Sex?"

"Yes." He looked up at her. "Oh, yes."

She caught her breath. He wasn't even touching her, and she felt as if something inside her was melting.

"You knew it was coming," he said thickly. "You want it to come."

She did want it, and she'd be lying if she denied it. She wouldn't lie. "We have a certain chemistry." She moistened her lips. "But it's the sit¬uation. We've been thrown together, and we react. That doesn't mean we should-" She broke off and pushed her chair back. "I'm hot." Oh, shit, that had just tumbled out. "I need some air. I'm going outside."

He smiled. "I'm hot, too, Emily." But he remained in his chair as she left the house.

The night was chilly, but it didn't cool her. She leaned back against the house, gazing out at the barren fields. She was burning up, her body readying. For heaven's sake, she felt the way she had the first time she'd had sex. It was her first year in college, and she'd been mindless, uncontrolled, dizzy with lust. She hadn't run away from it then. She'd run toward it.

Because it was safe, just a new experience, a passage of life.

Sex with Garrett would not be safe, and the passage could take her down paths that would be new and strange.

And exciting. Yes, everything about Garrett was exciting and dif¬ferent. The way he thought, the experiences that had made him who he was, his body that drew her and made her want to-