Iris Johansen - Star-Spangled Bride

She buried her head deeper in his shoulder. "I can't tell you something that's not true. I don't love you."

He went still. "The hell you don't."

"I don't," she insisted.

He lifted her chin with his fingers and stared down at her. "You're lying to me."

"I'm not lying." She forced herself to sit up and look directly into his eyes. "I like you. And I love this, but if that's not enough for you, I'll have to leave."

"What are you afraid of?"

"Nothing. I'm not afraid of anything." She reached for the veil, which had landed at the foot of the bed. "And maybe it would be better if I did go."

"The hell you will." He roughly pulled her back into his arms. "You'll stay with me."

Relief surged through her. She had been afraid he would let her go and she didn't think she couldsurrender him without giving herself a little time. "Not if you expect me to swear undying love for you."

"Dammit, you do-" He stopped, then said, "I don't know what's going on with that convoluted thinking process of yours, but I won't argue with you right now." His voice hardened with determination. "Just know this, Ronnie. I'm not going to let you go."

"I don't want to go." She paused. "Not yet."

He shook his head. "Never." He rolled her over on her back and parted her thighs. "This is it, Ronnie, the real McCoy. Get used to the idea."

"This is wonderful," Ronnie said when she could talk without gasping. "Like a roller-coaster ride, but the ending is better. I've always thought that gliding slowly back into the starting ramp sort of took something away. They should find a way to catch the cars in the chute like they do jet planes on aircraft carriers."

"Well, which am I?" Gabe lazily circled the areola of her nipple with an index finger. "A roller coaster or a jet plane?"

"Neither." She kissed him lovingly on the mouth. "You're the bee's knees."

"Sounds minuscule. I believe I'm insulted."

"Don't be. You're just right. Delicious." She sat bolt upright in bed. "Which reminds me. I'm starving. How do you expect me to absorb all these new skills if you don't feed me?"

"If I recall, you're the one who decided to postpone dinner."

"I regarded this as more important." She reached for the veil. "Where's the kitchen?"

"Good Lord, don't you know you're supposed to be languid after sex?"

"Who made that rule? I feel alive. I want to go out and move mountains."

He looked at her glowing face and then smiled. "Not now. The mountains are a good hundred miles away. Stay where you are. I'll bring you something." He got out of bed and went toward the closet. "It's chilly and at least I have a robe to wear."

"I'm not cold."

He shrugged on the white terry robe. "No, you're not, thank God. I'll be back in a minute."

She watched the door close behind him before jumping out of bed and running to the closet. She grabbed a white shirt from a hanger and slippedit on. It came almost to her knees, but at least it covered her. She rifled through a bureau drawer and came up with a pair of white crew socks and pulled them on.

She padded out of the bedroom and wandered down the hall until she heard the sound of metal against metal and zeroed in on the kitchen. Gabe was standing in front of the stove pouring an egg mixture into a frying pan.

"Can I help?"

He glanced over his shoulder. "Don't you ever obey orders?"

"Not if I can help it. Besides, I'm too restless to sit still and be waited on."

His gaze traveled over her. "That shirt looks better on you than it does on me."

"Then it must look terrible on you." She made a face. "I hate cutesy outfits. They make me feel like Debbie Reynolds or Sandra Dee."

"What do you know about them? I'd think they'd be before your time."

"Are you kidding? The only movie theaters I got to go to when I was growing up were those in outback villages where Rudolph Valentino was still considered a current heartthrob." She moved to stand by his shoulder and peered down at the omelet. "That looks terrific. I'm so glad you cancook. I'm terrible at it. But I can make coffee," she offered.

"Then do it. The coffeemaker's on the counter over there. The coffee's in the canister." He took plates from a shelf in the cabinet and set them on the table. "I take it I'm going to do all the cooking while we're here."

"If you don't want chronic indigestion." She poured water into the coffeemaker. "Jed tried to teach me once, but he gave up. He says there's something seriously wrong with my culinary aptitude. I just don't have the gift. If you cook, I'll wash dishes."

"Sounds fair." With a spatula he lifted the omelet onto a plate, cut it neatly in half, and shifted one half to another plate. "Sit down and eat. You're going to need your strength later."

"Braggart." She could feel the heat in her cheeks as she sat down at the table. It was weird how he could make her blush when no one had been able to accomplish that feat in years. "You'd better be the one to shore up your reserves. I've decided I'm a nymphomaniac."

"Then you've decided wrong," he said quietly as he started to eat. "You're loving and sweet and passionate and I have bottomless reserves where you're concerned."

Her smile faded as she looked at him. "That's… nice."

"More than nice. Extraordinary. You're not eating." He looked up and smiled faintly. "Protein, remember."

"Sure I am." She picked up her fork and started on the omelet. "And you're the one who needs the protein." She had a sudden thought. "But you can't have any of that coffee. Why didn't you remind me before I started that pot? You need to sleep tonight."

"My dear, if I don't sleep tonight, I guarantee I'll never sleep again."

"No coffee," she said firmly.

He changed the subject. "What debt?"

She looked at him in confusion at the question that had come out of nowhere.

"I suppose there's no big secret now that you've told me everything else about your background." He paused before asking, "What debt did you owe me?"

"My life," she said simply. "Mekhit, Turkey, 1983."

He shook his head. "I was in Mekhit, but I-"

"You don't even remember. I didn't think you would. You dug me out of the ruins of acollapsed hotel after the earthquake. I knew I was only one of a score of people you helped during those two days, but you can understand why you were pretty prominent in my memory after that. You stayed with me and held my hand." She shivered even now at the memory. "It was the worst night of my life. The darkness-"

"Was like a coffin," he quoted. "I do remember. But your name was Anita."

"Anita Valdez. Spanish passport."

"And when we pulled you out…" His gaze went to her hair. "You were pretty messed up, but I'm sure your hair was dark."

"Vegetable dye. I had to look Spanish."

"I felt guilty about leaving you to go to the hospital alone."

"You did more than anyone could expect. The entire town was a disaster area. I knew you had to go and help dig out other people."

He grimaced. "You make me sound like Superman. I was only doing what anyone else would do in an emergency like that. I did drop by the hospital the day before I left Mekhit to see how you were."

"I didn't know that." She smiled radiantly. "That was nice of you."

"They said you disappeared after they bandaged your arm."

"Evan was there. He saw them put me in the ambulance and showed up at the emergency room to take me away. The deal had fallen through and we left Mekhit that night."

"To another deal… another country," he said bitterly.

"Yes." She finished her omelet and sat back in her chair. "But after that night I kept track of you. It wasn't hard. You were on the way up and were fairly visible." She chuckled. "And, in a way, I wasn't joking when I called you my Pygmalion. I first became interested in becoming a reporter because of you. I had a big-time crush on you for a long time and thought everything you did was the cat's pajamas."