Beverly Barton - Defending His Own

Deborah and Ashe had allowed her family to believe the danger was over; indeed, Deborah convinced herself that there was hope all the threats and harassment had come to an end.

She had sensed a tension in Ashe she hadn't noticed before tonight. He kept watching Allen and his close scrutiny unnerved her. Did he suspect something? Or was he simply worrying that Buck Stansell still posed a threat to her family, that Allen might be the target of the man's revenge?

But then Ashe would look at her and his eyes would warm, his expression telling her plainly that he was remembering their lovemaking in the early morning hours. Yesterday. Less than forty-eight hours ago.

"I'm afraid I must say good-night." Carol rose from her chair in the library. "Come along, Allen. It's a half hour past your bedtime."

"How about coming up with me, Ashe?" Allen asked. "You said you wanted to see my science test."

"You bet I do. I want to see what you did to get 105% on that test instead of just a plain old 100%." Ashe laid his hand on Allen's shoulder and the two followed Miss Carol.

"Are you staying down here for a while?" Carol asked her daughter.

"Yes, I think I'll fix myself a drink and relax a bit before I come up."

"Don't forget to say good-night," Allen called out from the hallway.

"I won't forget."

Alone in the library, Deborah kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet up on the sofa. Suddenly she felt the man's presence before she heard him clear his throat. Jerking her head around, she saw Simon Roarke standing in the doorway.

"Come on in, Mr. Roarke," Deborah said. "Would you care for a drink?"

"No, thanks." He walked over to the liquor cart. "May I fix something for you?"

"Just a little brandy."

Roarke poured the liquor and handed it to Deborah. "This about right?"

"Perfect." Deborah looked up at Simon Roarke, thinking, and not for the first time, that there was a hint of sadness in his eyes. "Please, sit down and talk to me."

"What do you want to talk about, Ms. Vaughn?"

"Call me Deborah. And I'd like to ask you about your friendship with Ashe."

Roarke sat in the wing chair to Deborah's left. "We've known each other a year. We have similar backgrounds and found we worked well together and enjoyed spending some of our off time together."

"You were in the army, too?"

"Yeah."

"How long have you worked for the Dundee Agency?"

"Over two years."

"You aren't married?"

"No."

"Girlfriend?" Deborah asked.

"Neither Ashe nor I are in a committed relationship, if that's what you're asking. I'm sure he's told you that."

Deborah smiled. "I'm not very good at this, am I? Cross-examining you to get information about Ashe isn't something I'd ordinarily do, but—"

"But you're curious about Ashe. Why don't you just ask him what you want to know?"

"Yes, that would be the logical thing to do, wouldn't it?" Deborah slid her feet off the sofa and back into her shoes. "Did he tell you that we knew each other, years ago?"

"Yes."

"You aren't making this easy for me, Mr. Roarke."

"Just Roarke," he said. "I'm afraid I can't tell you what you want to know. I'm not sure Ashe can tell you. He probably doesn't even know himself."

"Is it that obvious?" Deborah clasped her knees with her fingertips. "I made a mistake about the way Ashe felt about me once, and I don't want to make another mistake."

"You're talking to the wrong man. I can't speak for Ashe." Roarke grunted, then chuckled softly. "Hell, I'm a failure when it comes to figuring out the way other people feel and think. I'm thirty-five. I'm alone, and I'll be alone the rest of my life. Ashe is different. He's not so far gone, the right woman couldn't save him."

Deborah took a sip of the brandy, then set the glass aside. "I like you, Roarke. I—"

"Allen is waiting for you to come up." Ashe stood in the doorway, a rather comical look of jealousy on his face.

Deborah couldn't suppress a gurgle of laughter from escaping. Standing, Roarke took a couple of steps, leaned over, lifted Deborah's hand and kissed it. "I like you, too, Deborah." He walked past Ashe without glancing his way.

"What the hell was that all about?" Ashe asked.

"I was pumping Roarke for information about you."

"That's not what it sounded like when I walked in. Sounded more like a mutual admiration society."

Deborah stood and walked over to Ashe, slipped her arm around his neck and pressed her body into his. "I like your friend Roarke." She rubbed herself against Ashe. "But not the same way I like you."

Ashe jerked her up against him and his lips covered hers, claiming her with demanding possession. Breathing hard, they ended the kiss, but held each other close.

"I want to make love to you," he said. "Is there any way we can slip off somewhere? Anywhere?"

"Let me go up and say good night to Allen, then I'll meet you in the pool house in thirty minutes."

"The pool house? Out back?"

"Yes. We'll have all the privacy we want out there."

Ashe laughed. "I don't know if I can wait thirty minutes."

"Let's make it twenty minutes," she said, pulling out of his arms.

"You aren't afraid someone will find us out, using the pool house as a rendezvous?"

"I really don't care, do you?"

"No, honey, I don't give a damn who knows we're lovers."

Deborah saw the light in the pool house from where she stood on the back patio. Soft, shimmering light. Candles? Had Ashe found the candles left over from the last pool party they'd given back in the summer, the one for her mother's garden club friends?

She straightened her green satin robe, readjusted the quilted lapels and tightened the sash belt. She told herself not to be nervous, that she had no reason to be. After all, it wasn't as if she were a seventeen-year-old virgin.

Who was she kidding? She might not be a totally inexperienced teenager, but she was hardly accustomed to late night rendezvous in the pool house with a virile, amorous lover. She couldn't believe she was actually going to do this. But then she had never dreamed that she and Ashe would become lovers. Truly lovers.

She walked slowly toward the pool house, her heart hammering, her nerves quivering, her body filled with anticipation. Music met her as she hesitated in the doorway. An instrumental version of "The Shadow of Your Smile" surrounded her. Apparently he'd found the tape player and the stack of her mother's favorite tunes on cassettes. He stood inside waiting for her, two glasses of wine in his hand. He held out one to her when she entered the small octagon-shaped shelter, centered directly behind the swimming pool.

Ashe had changed into a pair of faded jeans and a zippered fleece jacket. He looked incredible. All muscle and firm flesh, tanned and lean and waiting for her.

She accepted the wine. He nodded toward the padded poolside chaise longue that had been stored for the winter. Seating herself, she glanced around inside the twelve-by-twelve-foot room. A dozen fat pink and yellow candles, half consumed on a previous occasion, circled the inner perimeter, casting a mellow, romantic glow over the room.

"To the most beautiful woman in the world." Ashe saluted her with his glass.

Her smile wavered, but she managed to keep it in place after she took a sip of the white wine. "You're beautiful, too, you know. You always were. The most beautiful boy, the most beautiful man. I never could see anyone else except you."

Hurriedly she downed the remainder of the wine. The tune changed to "What Are You Doing for the Rest of Your Life?" She'd heard her mother hum these old tunes for as long as she could remember. They were such romantic songs, meant to be shared by lovers.

Ashe took her empty glass. "Want a refill?"