Iris Johansen - Star-Spangled Bride

He made a face. "Where on earth do you come up with those archaic expressions?"

"I like them. The twenties slang was very colorful. Bee's knees, cat's pajamas…"

"I'm beginning to like them myself. They suit you." He put down his fork, met her gaze, and said with deliberate emphasis, "But not as much as I suit you. To use one of your phrases, we fit like the cat's pajamas. Maybe that's why we were brought together at Mekhit."

"Don't tell me you believe in fate too?" she scoffed. "First tradition and now fate?"

"Why not? I do believe some people are meant to be together," he said softly. "And if you get lucky enough to find that person, you'd be stupid to let them go."

She would hold on forever.

She had believed in fate that night. She had found something strong and sure and unshakable in that volatile world. But the resolution she had made in Mekhit must be broken. By clinging to him to complete herself, she could hurt him.

"Gripes, you're sentimental," she said. "But I can't totally knock this togetherness bit. You really know how to show a girl a good time." She stood up and swaggered toward the door. "Dump the dishes in the sink. I'll do them in the morning. I have enough protein in me now to keep you interested for a while." She slanted him a stern glance over her shoulder. "And don't you dare touch that coffee."

"You didn't sleep again," Ronnie accused as she strolled with Gabe in the garden the next morning after breakfast. "So much for me exhausting you."

"I dozed a little," Gabe said.

She gazed at him worriedly. "You don't look it. I think you're just saying mat to keep me from nagging you."

"It's entirely possible. You're persistent enough to make a saint try misdirection." He shot her a glance. "And very caring for a woman who only wants my body."

"I do care about you." She looked away from him. "I told you I liked you. You're not stupid enough to believe I'd have sex with a man I didn't like."

"No, you wouldn't tell me such an arrant lie. Because you're not stupid either." His hand closed on hers. "Though I've noticed a distinct muddleheadedness on occasion."

"We're talking about you."

"In connection with you." He stopped beside a white net hammock stretched between two pepper trees. "Vive la connexion. Would you care to forge another link? I've never done it in a hammock before."

He was deftly changing the subject in a manner he knew would appeal to her, Ronnie thought in exasperation. It was a smart move. She had never dreamed she had such a sensual nature until last night. "This isn't about sex." She turnedto face him. "Call Dan and ask him to bring sleeping pills when he comes tonight."

"No pills." He sat down on the hammock and pulled her down beside him. "Read my lips, Ronnie. I don't take pills. I've seen too many people start out taking a few pills to relieve tension and end up hooked. People whom I respect for their strength and good sense."

"But you can't-" There was no use arguing with him. He wasn't going to change his mind. She would have to go about seeking a solution indirectly. The only problem was that indirectness was not her forte. She lay down in the hammock and pulled him down beside her. "Okay, I'll drop it. What do I care if you turn into an insomniac? All the better for me. I'll just reach over in the middle of the night and know you're always ready for play."

"Then shall we try the hammock?"

"Not now. Later." She cuddled closer and put her head on his shoulder. "I like this little garden. Someday I'd like to have a garden of my own."

"I'll give you this one."

"It wouldn't be the same. I think you have to plan and work in a garden to make it your own."

"Like any endeavor."

"Right." She chuckled. "Like setting up an angle for a camera shoot. I have a whole garden of photos that I've planted over the- Why are you frowning?"

"The sun's too bright. I hate bright li-" He broke off and then asked, "What would you plant in your garden?"

She wentstill.Hehadcaughthimselftoo quickly and the change of subject had come with equal swiftness.

Bright light.

He had said she wasn't stupid, but she had been blind. When she had been imprisoned in Kuwait, glaring light as well as darkness had been used to torture prisoners, to keep them awake, to shred their nerves and weaken their resolve. "How long… did they do it to you?"

He didn't try to lie. He knew she wouldn't believe him. "The first six weeks."

Six weeks bathed in light, not permitted to sleep. "You didn't say anything about it at the news conference."

"It was no big deal."

She knew better. It was a very big deal. "You let me have the light on that night at Fatima's. No wonder you didn't sleep."

"I probably wouldn't have slept anyway. I told you, it was an aftereffect."

"You don't know. It might have triggered something that caused you not to sleep again. For heaven's sake, you should have told me."

"You had your own demons. I'm not afraid of the light, it just bothers me."

"Dammit, you'd just gotten away from those bastards. I could have stood the dark, but no, you had to prove what a big, strong man you are."

"Stop crying."

"I'm not crying."

"Then why are you getting my shirt wet?" His hand gendy stroked the hair at her temple.

He was comforting her again, blast it. He was the one who needed help and comfort and she was bawling on his chest. She wiped her wet cheeks on die front of his shirt. "Serves you right." She pulled his head down on her breast so that his eyes were shaded by the shadows of the branches overhead, and held him passionately close. "I want to kill them."

"I'm the one you're killing. I'm about to smodier in your delightful bosom." His lips brushed the cleavage revealed by the shirt. "Though I couldn't imagine a nicer death."

She loosened her grip but still kept him close. "Shut up. I don't want you to talk. I want to hold you."

"I hear and obey." His long body relaxed against her. "Actually, after a year of deprivation, I could use some tender loving care."

"Then be quiet and enjoy it." Her hand stroked his hair. She said unsteadily, "You're such a fool."

"Is that any way to talk to Daddy Warbucks?" he murmured. "And every fool should have die luck to land in a spot like this."

She didn't answer. She could hear the sound of the birds and feel the rise and fall of his breathing against her breasts. The scent of the flowers was all around them and the breeze was a soothing caress. She sensed the tension slowly, gradually, seep out of him.

Fifteen minutes later he fell into a light doze. Forty minutes later he drifted from that state into a deep sleep.

One leg was thrown over her and the weight of his heavy body was holding her perfectly immobile, but she didn't try to move. She was almost afraid to breathe. She lay there as the afternoon sunlight faded into twilight and then to the darkness of evening.

"Ronnie."

She opened her eyes at the soft call to see a tall figure silhouetted by the moonlight.

Dan Bredlowe squatted down beside the hammock. "I knocked and no one came to the door. Is everything all right?"

Gabe answered for her. "Fine." He stretched and then sat up. "I guess I must have fallen asleep." He turned to look at Ronnie. "You make a great pillow."

"Better than pills?"

"Much better than pills." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "Come on, I'll see if I can stir up something for Dan to eat."

She shook her head. "You go on. I'll be there as soon as I wake up a little."

His gaze narrowed curiously on her face but he rose to his feet and sauntered back toward the house with Dan.

She waited until he reached the French doors before she started to move. Lord, she was cramped and stiff in every muscle and one leg was asleep. She managed to get to her feet after two tries, but only managed to hobble down the path, dragging one leg behind her.