Under the Sheets (Capitol Chronicles Book 1) Page 8

  "You don’t need to know, Robyn." He lapsed back to her given name. A clear signal he felt the area was clean.

  "I’m so tired of that phrase. This is my life at stake here, as you’ve so often told me. Just who decides what I have a need to know?"

  "I can’t tell you that."

  "Oh, Jacob, lighten up. Isn’t there any human being inside that spy getup you wear?" She was sorry the moment she said it. "I didn’t mean that. It’s just that you make me so. . ."

  "Angry." He finished for her. "I know. You make me angry, too."

  "Why are you here? It’s been four years. You told me after the operation, we’d never have to see each other again. By now, I expected you to be bureau chief or something."

  "That’s not far from the truth. But I’m here to ex­tract a promise from you."

  "All right, Jacob, I’m ready. Hit me with it." She straightened her shoulders as if he were about to throw her a hard ball. She had to be ready to catch it no matter which side it curved toward.

  The tall government agent walked to within a foot of her. "I want your promise, a reconfirmed promise you’ll play by the rules. You won’t see him again."

  "There was no blood available for Kari and he was my last hope. I only expected the doctors to fly the blood up. I promise you I didn’t think there was the slightest possibility he’d come, too." She turned away. "You can’t imagine what it did to me to have him so close and not to be able to tell him who I was and worse that the person whose life he saved was his own daughter."

  "I do understand. I’m not completely inhuman." Jacob’s voice was softer than she thought it could be. And it was very close to her ear.

  She turned back to him. "I said I was sorry, Jacob. I know you’re a man with a job to do. And I know I’m not the most cooperative person you’ve ever had to deal with."

  "Do I have your promise?"

  She sighed. "You have my promise."

  "Good, now you’d better get back in there. It’s al­most time for your song."

  "How will you get back?"

  "You don’t. . ."

  "Need to know." Robyn knew the answer. This time she smiled. "Jacob, will you do me a favor before you leave?"

  "Of course."

  "Smile for me."

  "What?"

  "All the time you spent with me, teaching me, ar­guing with me, and shaping me into Brooke Johnson, I’ve never seen you smile."

  "I’ll smile if you’ll do me a favor, too."

  "When have I ever refused you a favor?" Her smile was impish. As close as he’d ever come to a smile changed his features at her obvious comment. Then, he stepped back as if compliance needed room. Slowly, the skin of his lips curved back and upward, revealing clean, even teeth. "You ought to do it more often," Robyn said. "It changes your face completely." Quickly, the mask was refitted and back in place was the G-Man. "Now what’s your favor?"

  Without a word, Jacob began closing the distance that separated them. Robyn didn’t know what to ex­pect. When his arms encircled her waist, she was too surprised to react. His mouth took hers in a slow leisurely kiss. Behind it was no trace of the G-man character, no hard-line military attaché, not even a clumsy adolescent. The man kissing her was experi­enced and thorough. He held her lightly but securely as if he were afraid his strength could easily break her small rib cage. Hands roaming over the sequined gown brailled her body from her shoulder blades to her rounded bottom that he pulled quickly and surely against the length of himself. The protrusion pressing against her lower body left her in no doubt of why.

  Jacob had come to find her. Reluctantly, he raised his head but didn’t move his hands or step back to remove the imprint of his body on hers.

  "If all goes well, Robyn, this is our last time to­gether. But if you ever need me, I’ll know and I’ll be there." He released her, turned and walked away, his head high, and body at attention, advancing forward, with not even a backward glance, or remnant of affect from the kiss.

  Stunned, her eyes followed him as he crossed the creek and was swallowed up by the enveloping dark­ness of the night and the trees. Long after he was gone, she stood there. She found herself wondering if Jacob Winston was married. Did he have a family? Were there two, three children walking around with his face stamped on them? Inside her head, a meta­morphosis was taking place. The cardboard spy was dissolving, an outer-case eliminated, revealing a real person, with feelings, emotions, and hope. She felt sorry for him. That kiss told her he’d secretly been waiting for her. Hoping that with time and circum­stances she’d fall out of love with Grant. But all the time he knew his job would never permit him to have any kind of relationship with her. She was a member of the elite society of protected witnesses. Involvement with her would be tantamount to a full-page ad in the New York Times.

  As she retraced her footsteps over the moon-washed path, cut out like giant silver dollars against a back­ground of dark grass, she remembered the photograph. She had planned to tell him about it when she saw him in her dressing room, but his surprising kiss made her forget. She couldn’t call him back. He’d said if she needed him he’d know and he’d be there. She believed that.

  Inside, the band played "A House Is Not a Home," reducing the noise of tonight’s crowd to a whirling hum. It reminded her of the sound of blank space over an open telephone line. The lights were bright and happy. Robyn needed gaiety. She was caught in a no-win situation. Grant could never be part of her life. And she could never be part of Jacob’s, no matter how much he wished it.

  For the first time since she’d met him, she identified with him. He was no longer her enemy. She wished she could tell him.

  "Where have you been?" Marianne greeted her as she walked into the dressing room. "Do you know you’re on in five minutes?"

  Robyn had forgotten. "Thanks, Marianne. I’ll be ready, but would you tell Mike I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to sing Secret Love tonight."

  Marianne’s look of surprise wasn’t lost on her. Robyn was a very decisive person. She had rehearsed tonight’s show for three hours this afternoon. To change it without explanation was out of character, and Marianne recognized it.

  "Why the sudden change?"

  "No particular reason, just a mood change."

  "Mood change? My mood would change, too, if that handsome man I saw at the hospital looked my way."

  "Hurry and tell Mike," she said. It was rare for Marianne to pry into her life. Robyn was sure it was what had kept them friends for five years.

  Robyn repaired her hair and reapplied the lipstick that Jacob had so expertly wiped off her mouth. With only seconds to spare, she took her place under the artificial setting of a moonlit garden, much like the one she’d vacated only minutes ago. As the orchestra began to play the introduction, she raised her head and remembered the smile Jacob had given her. Then, tak­ing a deep breath, she began to sing.

  Tonight, her voice was closer to her old voice. The tone was deeper. The words were rich and round as they floated on the small wisps of controlled air before spreading about the lounge. She kept the image of Jacob in her mind as she repeated the refrain.

  Only Jacob couldn’t tell anyone. She didn’t know why he’d chosen to let her know. It didn’t change any­thing—couldn’t.

  She ended the song slowly, thinking of the tall man in khakis and a golf shirt giving away his secret to the only person who had to keep it.

  "Listen to that applause." Marianne’s voice was choked as Robyn met her backstage after her third curtain call. "I’ve never heard you sing like that be­fore."

  "Marianne, you hear me every night."

  "But tonight was—different." She hesitated as if the word didn’t hold as much meaning as she meant to impart.

  "Different good or different bad?" Robyn teased, deliberately misunderstanding Marianne’s meaning.

  "Good, of course."

  "Thank you." Robyn smiled at the short redhead who reminded her of Little Orphan Annie with her mop of unruly c
urls and sprinkle of freckles.

  Marianne followed as she moved toward the stairs. "I’m not being kind. There wasn’t a person here to­night who wasn’t moved by you—and that includes the staff."

  Robyn entered the small dressing room. The lighted mirror was almost obscured by a huge vase of red roses.

  "Who are you, Brooke?"

  Thoughts of the flowers left her as she swung around to confront the restaurant manager. "What?"

  "Brooke, I’m your friend, your partner. Yet, the woman who walked out on stage tonight bares little resemblance to the one I thought I knew."

  "Nobody ever knows anyone completely—not even husband and wife."

  "Is it him?"

  Robyn didn’t have to ask who she meant. Marianne had run into Will just before Grant came out. She’d burst into the waiting room, bubbling over with ques­tions, one following rapidly on the heels of another.

  "I told you he came because of Kari’s blood type. I don’t expect to ever see him again." The words fell like slow rain, washing away a chalk drawing on the sidewalk.

  "Why not? He’s male, attractive, and unmarried."

  "We live in different worlds." It might as well be different planets, she added silently.

  "How do you know that? You’ve been alone since your husband died. Don’t you think five years is enough time to grieve?"

  "I’m not grieving," she denied, pulling a red-and-black bustled gown with a slight train from the closet.

  "What do you call it? You haven’t been out with more than six men in the past two years and never the same one twice."

  "I’m very discriminating." Robyn threw flippantly over her shoulder.

  "Discriminating, hell! You’re turning yourself into a corpse."

  Robyn swung around to face her friend. Every fea­ture of her perfectly made-up face was in place.

  "I’m sorry, Brooke, but you are burying yourself. First, in Kari, then in this restaurant. You won’t leave any room for a man."

  "I don’t need one. Kari and I like our lives the way they are."

  "Is that really true?" Marianne frowned. "You mean to tell me that Greek god physique with a smile brighter than sunshine, has no effect on your hor­mones? Honey, you are a corpse."

  "Unzip me." Robyn turned her back. Grant had a definite impact on her. He was the reason she was held prisoner in this shell of an existence. She’d ex­changed her grasp at happiness for a defense system and the lives of ten men, among them her husband. With her eyes wide open she’d followed the one-way signs and passed uninhibited through the portal to this life. Eventually, it had been sealed. Behind her was a door with no handle and no key. She was trapped, irretrievably imprisoned in a new world. A world where she had to tell a practiced set of lies until they became truth and truth became a lie.

  "If he does come back, Brooke, would you go out with him?" Marianne pulled the zipper down from the top of the gown. Robyn stepped out of it and hung it on a hanger.

  Marianne went back to the bouquet of roses. She bowed her head to take in their fragrance. "What’s his name anyway? It’s probably not a good idea for me to address him as Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome."

  "Grant Richards. He’s an airline pilot."

  Robyn waited for a response. When she got none, she continued. "Anyway, I won’t be seeing Grant again. His routes don’t come this way."

  "Maybe."

  Robyn snapped her belt closed. Marianne stood in front of the flower arrangement. A small white enve­lope extended from her hand like a bridge to the past.

  Robyn’s fingers closing over it completed the link between the past and the present. Pulling the card from its casing, she read it silently.

  Seeing you, again—

  is a very good idea.

  Grant

  She wanted to smile, but she knew Marianne was expecting a reaction, and she’d been taught too well to allow any of her personal feelings to sneak out through the cracks in the armor that she had carefully placed on her new life.

  Chapter 6

  As the week went by, Robyn’s optimism waned until depression gripped her. Seeing Grant for a short while, then not being able to see him again, cast her in the role of grieving widow. The only bright spot in her day was Kari. She recovered quickly after the blood transfusion, but the doctors kept her in the hospital for a few days while her other injuries healed.

  "Mommy!" Kari wailed, running across the room and into Robyn’s arms.

  "Hello, darling." Robyn dropped to the floor, arms open to receive the ball of energy flying toward her. She planted a swift kiss on her cheek, noting the bandage on her arm, residual evidence of the acci­dent. "I’m so glad to see you." She hugged the soft child, pushing her hair into place. "Here, look what I brought you."

  Kari exuberantly ripped the white wrapping paper, decorated with teddy bears, away from the box. Inside, she found a white stuffed Care Bear. "Oh," she smiled. "Two more teddy bears."

  "Two?" Robyn looked at her daughter, then around the room. She spotted the pink furry creature sitting on the guest chair. “Is that from Doctor Elliott?” she asked.

  “Oh, no. That’s from Uncle Grant.” Kari left Robyn, still sitting on the floor, to go place the white bear next to the pink one. “He said I could call him that if it was all right with you.”

  “He was here.” Robyn issued the inaudible statement to herself. Her heart began to pound.

  “He went to get us something to drink. Is it all right, Mommy?” Kari asked.

  “What, dear?” Robyn’s disoriented attention focused.

  “If I call him Uncle Grant?”

  Robyn looked at Kari as if she hadn’t heard the question. Her mind kept hearing he went to get us something to drink. “Kari, was Grant here--in the hospital?”

  “Hi.” Robyn’s eyes followed her daughter’s stare. Grant’s unmistakable vitality blocked the door, a cup in each hand.

  Don’t react, don’t let surprise register in your eyes, don’t move your eyebrows. Breathe normally, make sure that when you speak your voice is normal. Jacob’s voice whispered the repetitive instructions in her ear as he’d so often done.

  “Here, Kari.” He walked around Robyn and handed one of the cups to the little girl, then set the other one on the table. “Let me help you up.”

  Robyn had forgotten to move. He was having the same affect on her that he’d had when she found him asleep on her sofa. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

  “Well, I couldn’t fly away on the day my newest friend goes home.” He cast a friendly smile at Kari who returned it before continuing to play with her bears.

  “I didn’t know you two had become friends.”

  “Oh yes, Mommy. Uncle Grant came to see me three times.” She held up three fingers. “He’s got the same kind of blood as me.”

  Robyn’s eyes came back to Grant. “I must admit I did come to see Kari, but I hoped we’d run into each other again.”

  “Grant, I thought I made my feelings clear.”

  “Mommy, Uncle Grant’s going to take us to Logan Beach.” Kari’s excitement communicated itself to her. The child was oblivious to the tension mounting within Robyn. Grant appeared amused at her discomfort.

  “Not so fast, sweetie, Mommy has to agree first.” He smiled at the child.

  Robyn threw Grant a look that said they’d discuss this later.

  “Can we go, Mommy,” Kari’s small voice tugged at her heart.

  “Kari, Doctor Elliott isn’t going to let us go to the beach for a while,” she said coming down to the child’s level. “You’re leaving the hospital, but you still have to get well.”

  “What about after I get well?” she persisted.

  “How about we talk about it then?” Robyn smiled opening her arms, knowing her daughter would immediately agree with her and run into them.

  The nurse came in with the wheelchair then. “I get to sit in this,” Kari’s said, leaving Robyn and running to the chair. She climbed into it and looked
up at Grant.

  "Uncle Grant is going to push me," she announced. "He said he would go with us, Mommy."

  Robyn’s gaze joined her daughter’s. Grant stared at her with a helpless expression on his face. She clenched her teeth and helplessly followed the small group as they left the hospital room.

  Kari chatted between them as Robyn drove silently through the light traffic. Robyn admitted she was glad to see Grant. Seeing him standing in the door­way made her want to react. She wanted to jump into his arms, cover his face with kisses, and tell him she loved him. If she hadn’t been conscious of Jacob’s words guiding her, she was sure she’d have followed her impulses. And, now, she had to go through an­other good-bye scene.

  "Mommy, are we going by the restaurant?" Kari had turned her attention to Robyn.

  "No, dear, we’re going home. Why, are you hungry?"

  "A little."

  "Good, Graffie is at home and he’s making your favorite."

  "Spaghetti, ooh, goodie." Kari’s two favorite words bubbled from the small body sitting between her mother and father. Robyn could suddenly and clearly see her former image and Grant’s clear good looks like a time exposure reflected on the miniature face smiling at her.

  "Hey, watch out." Grant’s husky voice, intoned with panic, broke her concentration.

  Robyn’s foot jammed the brake to the floor as she stopped the car just short of a busy intersection. "I’m sorry. Are you all right?" Grant nodded, but Robyn noticed Kari’s hand grasp her arm in a harsh grip. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear. She remembered the accident that had placed her in the hospital. Robyn cautioned herself to pay attention and drive carefully. "It’s all right, honey. Mommy will drive slower." Kari returned the smile Robyn gave her and relaxed her fingers.

  "Here, Kari, you can hold onto me while Mommy drives." Grant took hold of the child’s hand. A pang of jealousy sliced through Robyn at the ease with which her daughter released her arm and curled up in Grant’s. Robyn berated herself. She’d never had to share her daughter before, and Kari and Grant seemed to get along so well. She had to allow them this time together. When he left tonight, they could never see each other again.