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Instead of coming to her room, he called from the hotel lobby. Her heart heavy, hiding her eyes behind cheap sunglasses, she met him at the front entrance. They took a taxi to the airport, the entire width of the back seat between them. Wanting just a few more hours with him, even in rigid silence, she let him override her protests. He had taken her from her home and insisted on returning her to it.

He flew with her to Tucson then rented a vehicle at his own expense to drive her to Wilcox. During the past hour he had not said a single word to her. Even sitting beside him, she felt utterly cold and alone—not just ignored, but alone. She forced her gaze from him to the windshield.

“Where is my father?” she demanded, breaking the tedious, painful silence.

“In custody—in one piece.” His succinct tone implied he would have preferred several pieces.

“Can I see him?” She had badgered officials for two days for permission to see her father but to no avail.

“He’s still being interrogated,” Damien replied evasively.

“Oh,” she murmured then hesitated. After a moment of indecision, she continued softly.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” he demanded sharply.

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“Helping us, protecting Stacy and keeping her out of danger,” Laurie clarified, confused and hurt by the thread of cold steel in his voice.

“It was my job,” he shot back.

“Was making love to me also your job?” she countered tartly, stung.

That abrupt cold dismissal of her and everything they had shared stung deep. The fierce ache in her heart nearly broke her and she fell back on temper. Tears welled in her eyes but she made no effort to wipe them away. Nor did she blink them back.

Damien expelled a harsh breath, pulled the car off the road, and switched off the engine.

They were now parked on the highway off-ramp leading into Wilcox. Laurie turned her head slightly, eyeing him warily through tear-filled eyes. He glared through the windshield, his fingers curled tight around the steering wheel.

“I'm sorry,” he said tonelessly. “I didn’t promise anything.”

She studied him anxiously, searching for a sign of his feelings, if he had any. His expression was blank, his eyes cold. He had been very careful to make no promises and to keep everything but desire to himself. Her heart broke all over again. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream at him.

“So, that’s it. I was a means to an end.” Anger and disgust mingled with heartbreak as she grasped the door handle. “Thanks for nothing. I’ll walk.”

In a blur of movement, he grabbed her wrist. His arm brushed her breast. Desire shot straight into her. Her nipple tingled and pebbled. She heard his sharp inhale as he jerked her hand from the door handle.

“You were not a means to an end,” he insisted, harshly, his eyes hot and furious. “I lost my head for a while.”

She looked at him, hurt all over again. “Take me home.”

“Not until you hear me out.” He gripped both of her hands tight in his, his penetrating stare holding her captive. “Making love with you had absolutely nothing to do with the mission—but it was a mistake. It was more my mistake than yours. I should never have touched you.”

Laurie had told herself the same thing, but she didn’t like hearing it from him. Mistake—

it didn’t have to be a mistake. But she could not make him love her—want her yes, but not love her.

“Believe me,” he continued and his tone rang with quiet conviction. “Loving you is something I’ll never forget. I can’t quite regret it, either—not completely.” For an instant, he looked miserable. He shook his head in a sharp gesture of denial. “This—we—can’t go any further. I’ve already disrupted your life. There is absolutely no future for us. My job, my life, does not allow emotional entanglements.” He stared into her eyes for a moment and she nearly drowned in his intense gaze.

“For a few days I let myself forget that there are some things I can never have,” he muttered fatalistically.

“It’s just as well.” She had to force the words through her aching throat. “Stress and danger don’t exactly make for a lasting relationship.”

Laurie stared at him for several seconds, as though committing every nuance of him to memory. But she didn’t have to do that. She would never forget him. Only after he dropped her hands and started the engine did she tear her gaze from him. The ache in her throat became a hard, painful lump as she fought the urge to cry. In spite of everything, she loved him. She could not help it. Love did not come easily to her. It never had. Once given, it could not be taken back.

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This was new territory for her. She had never really been in love before now. She did not know how to stop it or if it was even possible. Against all reason, she had fallen in love with the one man she could never have—her dark, dangerous hero who owned her heart but did not want it.

Damien turned the car into a driveway and stopped. Her eyes cleared. She was home. She fought to clear her mind as she climbed out of the car. Approaching the front door, she noted absently that the front wall and window had been repaired. She heard the clunk of the car door as Damien exited the vehicle.

The front door opened and Stacy ran into the yard. Relieved, ecstatic, and on the verge of tears, Laurie grabbed her daughter up in a bear hug. Her heart full of love, she spun around.

“Hi, Mommy!” Stacy squealed, her green eyes sparkling with delight. “I missed you! Hi, Damien!” She waved at him over Laurie’s shoulder and squirmed for release. Laurie set her on the ground and Stacy ran to Damien, hugging his waist hard.

“Laurie,” Marjorie spoke sternly, coldly from the open front door.

Laurie looked up. Stiff and regal, her mother radiated disapproval from across the yard.

Laurie squared her shoulders and straightened her spine. It was time for a long overdue confrontation.

“Thank you, Mother, for taking care of Stacy,” she said with icy politeness as she slipped past Marjorie and into the house. Stacy followed, leading Damien by the hand.

“What is the meaning of all this?” Marjorie demanded icily, her displeasure obvious.

“What have you gotten yourself into now?”

Laurie only glared at her mother as she lit a cigarette to cover the nervous flutter in her stomach. She had killed terrorists. She would no longer wither under her mother’s cold disapproval or be made to feel inadequate. When she spoke, her tone carried an imperial air of cold command she had never before used on her mother.

“Shut up, Mother. I’ll ask the questions.”

Marjorie’s pale blue eyes widened in shock then frosted with haughty temper as she turned to leave. “I did not raise my daughter to speak to me in that manner. I will return when you can keep a civil tongue in your head.”

Laurie smirked at her mother’s back. Damien’s bulk blocked the open door. He leaned casually against the door frame, his stony stare fixed on Marjorie as she stopped in her tracks.

“Sit down, Mother,” Laurie commanded icily, concentrating on anger rather than nerves and uncertainty. “I want answers.”

Wearing dignity like a cloak, Marjorie crossed the room and perched primly on the edge of the couch, her legs crossed at the knee. Her rigid demeanor, perfectly coifed blond hair, cool blue eyes, and chic white linen pantsuit proclaimed a woman born to money and high society.

Her method of intimidation was subtle but unmistakable. Laurie struggled to ignore it but after a lifetime it was difficult. Only anger helped her.

Like a prosecuting attorney cross-examining a hostile witness, Laurie paced the floor.

She stopped suddenly in front of Marjorie, forcing her mother to look up at her.

“Why did you tell me my father was dead?” Anger and betrayal pulsed in every word and successfully hid the spasm of pain in her heart.

Marjorie paled, her gaze shifting to the floor. She said nothing.

“I know he’s alive,” Laurie continued firmly. “I just witnessed his capture from his terrorist group. Tell me why you lied to me all my life.”

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“Why do you care?” Marjorie countered sharply. Her head snapped up. Anger, carefully controlled, blazed in her eyes. “He’s gone. He was never in your life. He may as well have been dead. He didn’t care about us—just his precious work and his warped political ideals.” Bitter sufferance tinged her words. “I did everything for you. I raised you, cared for you, with no help from anyone.”

“So I heard,” Laurie responded with bitter sarcasm, forgetting her original purpose under Marjorie’s typical counterattack. “You never let me forget that. You did not want me. I was your way of being a martyr—a reason for people to feel sorry for you and admire you at the same time. Yeah, it was real hard with all that money you were born with!”

Marjorie glared icicles at her daughter, snapped her mouth shut, and stood up to leave.

Head held high, she marched to the door. This time, Damien stepped aside and let her go. The door didn’t slam but closed with a firm thud and a dull click of the latch. Her mother would never be so undignified as to actually slam a door.

“Damn it. No wonder he left,” Laurie muttered, too weary to keep the bitter frustration from her voice. “He had to face that every day.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions,” Damien suggested calmly as he crossed the room to her.

“You don’t know what happened.”

Mentally and physically exhausted, Laurie looked up at him. “Well, that’s as much as I knew before. She won’t tell me anything. Don’t I have a right to know?”

Tears threatened but she blinked them back. Squelching the urge to cry in frustration, she took a deep calming breath and squared her shoulders. Damien put his hands gently on her shoulders and drew her into his arms. She didn’t resist his comfort. She leaned on him for a moment, enjoying the warm security of his embrace for the last time.

“I have to deal with this just like I do everything else—alone,” she told him firmly when she finally pulled away.

She turned and strode out of the living room. In the kitchen, she stood by the sink and stared out the window. She knew he followed. His presence filled her kitchen as well as her heart.

“So many questions that have no answers.” She turned abruptly and faced him resolutely.

“I need to see him.”

Damien didn’t ask whom. “Why would you want to?”

“It’s not a want,” she explained quietly. “I need answers, Damien.”

He let out a slow breath. “I’ll look into it. I’m not promising anything, but I’ll see what I can do.”

She turned back to the window with a fatalistic shrug. “Can’t ask more than that.”

She rested her hands on the edge of the sink as thoughts of her parents and Damien chased circles in her mind. Her gaze swept the fenced back yard. She missed him already and he wasn’t gone yet. What would she do after he left?

Get on with my life
, she thought stubbornly. She had survived almost thirty years without Damien. She would manage another thirty years. She was home and her daughter was safe. That was the only promise Damien made her. He had kept that promise.

“Laurie,” Damien said softly behind her.

His hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. She stared up at him, into the dark chocolate pools of his eyes, and wished for his level of confidence as she imprinted him again on her memory.

“I have to go,” he said. “But I don’t want to leave you alone like this.”

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She drank him into her senses, inhaled the pure male scent of him. She didn’t want him to go but the longer he stayed, the closer she came to begging him to stay—or take her with him.

Neither option was feasible.

“Go back to the Navy, Damien. I’ll be fine.” She tried to move away, but he hauled her against his muscled chest.

“I won’t,” he growled harshly, his dark eyes full of bitter longing. “I won’t be fine at all.”

He crushed his mouth to hers in a bruising, passionate kiss that set her senses on fire. Her lips parted in automatic, gasping response and his tongue plunged in to slide over hers. Her knees went weak on a wave of desire and she clutched at him for support. Clinging, she kissed him back with all the hunger he aroused in her. He finally dragged his mouth from hers. Still clutching at him, she searched his hungry eyes.

She swallowed her pride in a painful gulp, unwilling to just let him walk away. “Will I see you again?”

“Do you really want to?” He sounded doubtful despite to fire in his eyes.

“You have to ask?” She linked her fingers behind his neck, pressed closer until her breasts rubbed his chest, and smiled at his groan of desire.

“I think the question is do you want to?” She held her breath, waiting and hoping as endless seconds ticked by.

“I’ll come back.” He kissed her again, gently, his lips lingering on hers.

Then he turned and strolled out of her house and, she suspected, out of her life in spite of his words. A heavy sigh of resignation shuddered slowly from her. She had survived a mission into a terrorist camp but would she survive Damien McAllister’s effect on her heart?

* * * *

Damien drove back to Tucson telling himself he needed a clean break from Laurie. It would be better for her as well as him. But he was selfish. He wanted her. He had to report back to San Diego. If he wasn’t needed for a mission, he might take some leave time. He had a lot of leave time saved. He rarely, if ever, used it.

“Damn it!” he cursed his selfish thoughts and needs. “It’s not fair to drop in and out of her life in my spare time. I can’t commit and she doesn’t fit into my life. No one does.”

He pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Damn, but he wanted her. And not just to satisfy his sexual urges. He gave serious though brief consideration to turning the car around and hauling ass back to her. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel. The Navy took a very dim view of dereliction of duty and its men going AWOL.

He scowled at the slow moving car ahead of him then zipped around it. He could not give Laurie what she wanted, needed, or deserved. Nor could he demand that she even attempt to share his volatile life. So he had to leave her alone and let her get on with her life.