Familiar Stranger (5 page)

When she sighed and turned, snuggling her cheek against his chest, his arms tightened around her.

God … don't let this end.

Then he closed his eyes and let exhaustion claim him.

* * *

David smelled coffee and rolled over in surprise. Most of his adult life had hinged on being cognizant of his surroundings, even in his sleep, and yet Cara had arisen from this bed and dressed without him knowing it. And from the scents wafting down the hallway, she'd been up for some time. Not only did he smell coffee, but if he wasn't mistaken, also bacon and the aroma of baking bread. He rolled out of bed and grabbed a clean pair of shorts and a shirt, unwilling to waste another moment of this day. After a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair, he padded barefoot down the hall. The television was on in the living room and he stopped, taking a moment to listen to the announcer.

"Talks between the Irish Republican Army and Great Britain have come to a halt. Reports from unnamed sources tell us that the recent bombing in

Trafalgar Square

has been attributed to a renegade faction of the IRA and that until this has been sorted out, negotiations will cease."

"Damn," David muttered, and made himself a mental note to check on the status of the situation. When the announcer continued, he lingered another moment, although he was torn between his duty to SPEAR and his longing to be with Cara.

"On the local front, hit-and-run robberies are continuing within a three-county area of upstate New York Just last night, a liquor store in Three Corners was held up, and the clerk on duty was shot and robbed of more than six thousand dollars. The woman, a thirty-four-year-old Asian mother of two, is still in surgery. More on her condition later."

David sighed, sorry for the woman and her family, but his focus had to be on the larger picture. Even though it was on a limited basis, terrorism had already made its mark in the United States. It was part of his job to make sure it didn't escalate.

When the station broke for commercial, he turned to other issues—namely breakfast with Cara.

When he entered the kitchen, Cara was washing her hands at the sink. He walked up behind her, slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the back of her neck.

Cara gasped with surprise.

"David! You startled me," she said, then she leaned back against him and closed her eyes as his hands moved up her belly to her breasts.

"Then we both got a surprise this morning," he said, as he turned her in his arms and kissed the smile on her lips.

"How so?" Cara asked.

"I never heard you get up."

She shrugged. "I was trying to be quiet. You were sleeping so soundly I thought you must need the rest."

"That's beside the point," David said. "There were lots of days and nights I went without sleep and I still stayed alert. It made the difference in my ever seeing another sunrise."

She cupped his face with her hands. "Yes, but that was when you were in danger, right?"

"Yes."

"So … subconsciously, you knew there was nothing here to fear. End of story. Now come sit down. Breakfast is almost done."

She was right, and the answer was so simple, he didn't know why it hadn't occurred to him first. Maybe he'd spent too much of his life in hiding to be able to do this normal-guy stuff.

"Need any help?" he asked.

"No, but thanks."

He took a seat, thinking he couldn't remember the last time he sat down to a meal with flowers on the table. Then he saw the basket of hot blueberry muffins and his heart skipped a beat. He felt Cara's hand on the back of his neck.

He looked at her. She was smiling.

"You remembered," he said softly.

"How could I forget," Cara said, and then brushed a brief kiss across his mouth. "We had breakfast together at Flanders' Deli the morning you left for basic training. I was so mad at you and I still came to say goodbye."

David sighed, unwilling to think about the negative aspects of their parting. "It was blueberry muffins with some kind of sugary stuff on top."

"Streusel. It's called streusel."

David touched the corner of her mouth. "You had it stuck right here."

Cara smiled. "And you removed it with your tongue. Caused quite a scene there in the deli, as I recall." Then she frowned. "Someone told my parents. When I got home, there was the proverbial hell to pay."

"Sorry," David said.

"I'm not. Even though they've been gone for several years, after knowing what they did to us, David, I don't think I can ever forgive them."

"Holding on to grudges isn't healthy," he said, thinking of Frank. "Let's just focus on here and now."

Cara sensed he was alluding to more than what her parents had done, because that dark look was back in his eyes. Determined not to talk about anything negative, she handed him a muffin and made herself smile.

"Start on that while I get the rest of our food."

The bread was warm against his palm, and when he broke it open, the scent of sugar and blueberries made him feel like a kid of sixteen all over again. Ignoring the butter and jam, he took a big bite, savoring the taste as well as the thought behind it.

"What do you think?" Cara asked as she set a plate of bacon and scrambled eggs at his place.

He swallowed. "I think Ray Justice was a damned lucky man."

At first, the mention of her deceased husband was startling, until she began to accept the compliment in the manner in which it had been made. She smiled.

"Why, David … what a genuinely dear thing to say."

He arched an eyebrow. "I have my moments."

She laughed and then went to get her own food, leaving David with the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears and the knowledge that whatever happened later, he'd been right in coming.

They finished their meal in near silence, each absorbed in the simple wonder of sharing food. For Cara, the whole experience seemed surreal. Day before yesterday, David Wilson was a heartache from her past, and now he was sitting in her house, at her table, eating the food that she'd prepared. But this David was nothing like the boy who'd left her behind. He was hard and secretive and rarely smiled. She wanted her old David back. Not only that, she wanted more—so much more. But she kept remembering an old saying about being careful of what you wished for. Her life was settled. If he stayed, could she live with a man with so many secrets—a man who had to wear himself out physically to be able to rest? She sighed. God help them both, because she had never wanted anything so much in her life and she was afraid she wouldn't be up to the task.

David got up to pour himself another cup of coffee.

"Want a refill?" he asked.

"No, I've had enough."

Her words wrapped around his senses, reminding him that he would never have enough of her. The smile he'd been wearing stopped at the corner of his mouth as he sat the cup down on the counter, unfilled. Then he walked across the room, pulled her up from her chair and into his arms.

"You sure?" he asked, his voice husky with promise.

She smiled. "Maybe I was a little hasty."

"If you come back to the bedroom with me, we can take all the time you need to decide."

A shiver of longing rolled through her as she slid her arms around his neck.

"The way I'm feeling right now, it won't take any time at all."

A rare smile broke the somberness of his face as he scooped her up in his arms.

"I
can
walk," she said, as he carried her down the hall.

He laid her on the bed and then crawled on top of her, straddling her legs. There was a gleam in his eye as he began to undress her.

"Tell me that again afterward," he said.

Breath caught in the back of her throat as his hands tugged her shirt from the waistband of her slacks. From where she was lying, he seemed indomitable. And then he leaned forward and centered his mouth across her lips. She moaned.

He leaned even closer, his mouth against her ear as he whispered something dark and promising that sent her sense of self into a tailspin. Could she do something like that—even with a man she loved?

Clothes came off, flying in every direction.

Her slacks.

His shorts.

Her bra.

His shirt.

When there was nothing left between them but his promises, he turned her over on her stomach.

Cara shivered as his hands encircled her ankles. After that, nothing in her life would ever be the same.

* * *

Cara stepped out of the shower to find David waiting on her. She smiled slowly, gazing her fill of his strong, naked body and the look in his eyes.

David returned her grin as he wrapped her in a towel.

"What?" he asked.

"It would have been an absolute tragedy if I'd lived my whole life without experiencing that."

The corner of his mouth tilted, but not much. "That, as you call it, is one of the most interesting pages of the Kama Sutra."

"Oh? And here I thought you'd learned that from some Mata Hari type during your world travels."

"Hell, honey, it wasn't a James Bond type of life, I can tell you that. I could count the number of women I've slept with in the last twenty years on one hand and have fingers left over."

"Oh, I wasn't speaking from jealousy," Cara said. "Quite the reverse. I was going to suggest that if I'm ever with you and you see any of those women again, please introduce me."

"Why?"

"I want to thank them for whatever they added to your expertise."

His eyes widened in surprise and then he threw back his head and laughed as he swung her off her feet.

Cara wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning at his delight.

"God, woman, you unman me," he said, as he set her on her feet.

"Not for too long, I hope. Now let me get dressed. I can't stay naked all day."

"Why not?"

Her grin widened. "Because I have things to do."

He frowned. "What kind of things?"

She shrugged. "Normal, everyday things, like picking up some clothes from the cleaners, buying groceries, washing the car. You know … just stuff."

David followed her into the bedroom and sat on the bed as she began to dress. He didn't want to admit that he
didn't
know.
Stuff
hadn't been on his agenda since the day he'd left for Vietnam.

"Can I come?"

Cara turned, surprised by the hesitant tone in his voice.

"Of course you can. I expected you to."

"Is there a dress code for this kind of
stuff?"

She started to laugh and then realized he was serious. Her hands fisted as she struggled to keep the anger out of her voice.

"I keep wanting to ask exactly what the hell the United States government did to you in the name of peace, but I'm afraid of the answer. You can wear shorts or any kind of pants. Jeans … slacks, whatever you like. A shirt of any kind is fine with me. There's this great little restaurant where we can have lunch." She frowned, then added, "Actually, it's more like a tearoom, but the dress code is casual."

"Okay," David said, and took a pair of chinos from a hanger, then stood for a moment, choosing a shirt that would match.

Cara paused, watching the play of muscles across his back. Her gaze fell on the multitude of scars on his body as it had so many times before. Suddenly blinded by tears, she turned before he could see them and began digging through a dresser drawer.

It occurred to her then that she'd taken her freedom for granted, never considering the countless men who sacrificed on a daily basis so that she would never live in fear. She turned abruptly.

"David."

"Yeah?" he muttered, as he bent over to tie his shoe.

"Thank you."

He looked up. "For what?"

"For the years you spent in the service of this country. For the nights you didn't sleep and the pain—"

He stood and put his forefinger in the center of her mouth, gently stopping what she'd been about to say.

"You don't have to say this," he said.

"Yes … actually I do," Cara said. "I spent a lot of years feeling sorry for myself because my life didn't work out the way I'd planned. And then I see you, like this, and what you suffered while I was warm and safe and—"

Her voice broke and she looked away.

David's expression was shuttered. How did he respond to a brutal truth?

"Come here, honey. It's okay."

"No," she muttered. "It will never be okay."

"It's almost over," he said.

She frowned. "That's not the first time you've alluded to unfinished business. What is it, David? Why can't you tell me?"

He tried to grin. "You know the old spy joke. If I told you, then I'd have to kill you, and we both know I couldn't do that. So…"

Cara turned away, muttering something beneath her breath as she finished dressing.

David arched an eyebrow as he smiled. "Those are pretty salty words for such a pretty lady."

She purposefully ignored him, which made him smile even more. This woman was a far cry from the girl he'd left behind. He was falling in love all over again.

"I'll finish dressing now," he said.

She almost glared. "Are you making fun of me?"

"No, ma'am."

She sighed. "Yes, you are."

"What would it take for you to change the subject?" he asked.

She lifted her chin, refusing to smile. "I'm going to the living room. When you're ready, I will be waiting." Then she marched out of the bedroom, leaving him on his own.

David hesitated briefly, then grabbed his wallet and keys before following her exit. This might be new and uncharted territory for him, but damned if he wasn't looking forward to it.

Tearoom, indeed.

Two hours and a half dozen errands later, they walked into the restaurant. Almost immediately, Cara saw people she knew. They waved a hello, and she could tell by the looks on their faces that their curiosity was raised by the man at her side.

Earlier, she'd almost lost his company when she had gone into the hair salon to pick up a bottle of her favorite shampoo. One of the stylists had flirted, which he'd calmly ignored, but when the shampoo girl came by and pinched his behind, Cara thought he was going to bolt. Cara had calmly told the girl to go molest someone else, which had made everyone laugh, including David. After that, the rest of the morning had been fairly innocuous. But now there was this. She glanced at David, judging his expression. To her surprise, he was looking at her.