Searching for Cate (21 page)

“Yeah, yeah.” The import of the earlier discovery was just now sinking in. Extreme pleasure washed over him. He could hardly believe it. “So, pregnant, huh?”

She grinned. “Yup.”

He rose to his feet, taking her hand in his. “Would you like to celebrate?”

“With all my heart.” She threaded her arms around his neck as he lifted her up into his arms. “I like it a lot better when we agree.” She buried her face in his neck.

He kissed her hair softly, then began to go up the stairs. “Yeah, me, too.”

T
his time, there was no pretense, no need to make excuses to Christian or to herself as to why she was in his apartment or what the rest of the evening would hold. She felt as if it had been building up to this from the moment he'd come to pick her up for the unexpected trip to meet his family.

“Why did you bring me there?” As he shut the door behind her, she asked him the question that had been hovering in her mind ever since he'd called earlier to see if she was interested in going. She hadn't wanted to ask him before for fear that the invitation would be withdrawn. “To your mother's house,” she added when he made no response.

“It's mine, too,” he told her quietly. He felt as if his gut was tightening into a knot, just looking at her. There was no point in pretending. He wanted her. More
now than the first time. Because then there'd been curiosity involved. Now there was only knowledge. And desire. “Mine and Lukas's, or so Mom says. Just because we've moved here doesn't mean that's still not home.”

Why did he refrain from telling her things? Was he afraid they'd become too close if he did? She pushed, but only a little, leaving him space. “That still doesn't answer the question.”

“No,” he agreed. He adjusted the lights, turning them lower. “It doesn't.” Christian turned to face her, his eyes drawing her in. “Does every question have to have an answer?”

A stubborn glint came into her eyes at the same time her mouth curved. He could feel her smile moving him. “I'd like it to. Unless the conversation's about Einstein's theory of relativity,” she said flippantly, “in which case—”

“In which case,” Christian pronounced, slipping her coat off her shoulders and down her arms as he pressed a soft, fleeting kiss to the side of her neck, “you talk too much.”

“It only seems that way because you're so quiet.” Freed of her coat, she turned around to face him. Her limbs already felt heavy, as if she were drugged while, in contrast, her pulse raced wildly. Anticipating. Her eyes searched his face, looking for a clue, for a sign. “What are you thinking about?”

Only a hint of humor entered his eyes. “That you talk too much.”

“What else?” she prodded, her breath whispering along his face.

He could feel his body warming. Yearning. “That I want to make love with you. That I've wanted to all evening.” His breathing grew shorter as his desire lengthened. “That I'm sinking into quicksand when I promised myself never to do it again.”

Cate was positive her heart had just leaped up into her throat. But if that was true, how could she still speak?

“It's not quicksand,” she told him. Her eyes held his for a long moment, even as she felt his hands beginning to roam over her, probing, touching, causing her pulse to feel as if it was in danger of breaking the sound barrier. “I won't let you go under.”

The promise almost made him smile. “It could already be too late.”

Even as he said it, he thought that it was. Because there were things happening inside of him, feelings being stirred, feelings that had very little to do with sex and everything to do with the coming together and sealing of two souls.

Cate leaned into him. “Pessimist,” she teased, her lips grazing his just lightly enough to arouse him. She could feel his need pressing against her. Felt her own mounting even before her skirt and blouse had left her body and found the floor.

Her heart hammered against his fingertips as he removed her bra. He filed his hands with her breasts, sealed his mouth to hers. Their breaths and desires mingled, merged.

Feeling shaky, needing to anchor herself to something before she found herself sinking to the floor, she wrapped her fingertips around his biceps. They felt
like rocks. She held on to them as best she could while she pressed her mouth against his for all she was worth. Drinking in the life-sustaining passion she found there.

Her head spun. Her fingers tightened on his arms. A fire broke loose in her belly, feeding the craving that was taking hold of her.

She found herself being moved back. Step by step. Christian kept moving forward, his mouth assaulting hers, his hands traveling up and down her body, reducing everything he touched to a consistency of warm Jell-O until he had her back flat against the wall with no room for escape.

As if she wanted it.

The wall felt cool against her naked back. His body felt hot against the rest of her.

And all the while, she was aware of an eagerness inside of her, an eagerness that only kept building, doubling, until she felt it would burst out of her pores.

Her head spinning almost dangerously now, Cate worked his clothing loose, taking buttons out of their holes, tugging at zippers and buckles, until she had finally gotten rid of the barriers of material that kept him from her.

She ran her hands over him as if she'd never touched a man before, never felt that wild surge through her veins that only intimacy brought.

His skin was hot as it moved against hers and she felt her own flesh sizzle. She could swear that it felt even hotter on the inside than it did to the touch. Anticipation was responsible for that. Anticipation at what was to come.

At least, she thought she anticipated it. And yet,
when it began, she found that she was unprepared for the onslaught that followed. Unprepared for the siege that he lay to her body.

Christian pushed her against his sofa, easing her fall with his arm tucked under her.

His mouth roamed over her face, her neck, her breasts, claiming each place he passed, making it his own. Making her his own.

She twisted and turned against him, eager to have him anoint her everywhere. Eager to have the flames grow even higher as his lips and tongue teased, suckled, moistening that which was already moist.

And then, somewhere amid the haze that had claimed her brain, she realized that she was being only the recipient, not the instigator. It went against everything she had ever believed herself to be. Summoning energy from some far-off recessed place, she pulled herself together, determined to return the favor. Or the exquisite torture.

He was unprepared for it.

She could tell the moment she began. The look in his eyes gave him away. Seeing it gave her a sense of power as well as delight. Fortified, she forged a trail along his torso with her hands, with her mouth, and delighted in the response she felt. When he moaned, she thought she was going to explode.

Unable to hold back any further, she splayed her body over his, positioning herself so that his entry would be almost effortless.

Damn but she was more than a handful, he thought. More than he had bargained for. The thought sent rays of sunshine through him, giving light to the dark.

His eyes on hers, filled with desire and wonder, Christian thrust himself into her.

The climax that came, seizing them both in its grip, was more intense than anything they'd experienced with each other so far. It absorbed more of them than it had before. And brought with it a sense of overwhelming awe.

He could feel her heart slamming against his as she spiraled up with him, reaching.

Reaching.

And then they were floating down again. And paradise was a memory.

His arms closed more tightly around her during the descent than the ascent. Because before it had been due to passion, but now it was because of the tenderness that was washing over him. He realized that he liked holding her like this, liked feeling their hearts linked.

The strings he claimed were not there, the strings he wanted to resist more than anything in this world, tightened around him.

He didn't care.

Maybe later he would, when energy returned, bringing with it baggage filled with remorse and other useless emotions. But not yet. Not yet.

Cate raised her head, a slightly dazed, bemused expression on her face. She rested her head on the hand she had pressed against his chest. Her eyes were on his.

“So, you think the Angels have a chance at the pennant next season?”

He didn't know about the Angels, but he was beginning to wonder if he did. With a laugh, he cupped the back of her head with his hand and caught her mouth
with his own. Her lips still tasted sweet, even blurred with the imprint of his.

He grinned at her when it was over. “I don't really follow baseball.”

“Too bad.” Did she seem as breathless as she felt? To her ear, she sounded like an unseasoned runner who had just attempted a five-mile run. “Everyone should have a sport to call their own.”

One side of his mouth rose in a half smile. “This yours?”

He saw her eyes darken. Had he insulted her? He hadn't meant it that way.

“I told you,” she said, “I don't do this kind of thing on a regular basis.”

“I didn't mean to insinuate that.” And then he paused before asking, “Why me?”

For a moment, she only looked at him. And then a smile came to her lips. He thought it was like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. “Now who's asking questions?”

“Why me?” he repeated, needing to know.

Chemistry, attraction,
they were all good words, but that's all they were. Words. And there was something more at play here.

“I don't know,” she told him honestly. “Maybe because something in your soul talked to mine.”

She'd said the wrong thing. Or maybe the right thing, she amended, because the look in his eyes changed instantly. He released her and fell back against the sofa. She didn't know whether to curl up beside him, or get up and get dressed.

The question answered itself as she felt his arm
close around her. Drawing her to him, to his warmth. “I was married once.”

“I know.” Her words were slow, measured, as if she was feeling her way around. “Lydia told me.”

He tucked his other hand under his head, looking at the ceiling. Looking at the past. “What else did Lydia tell you?”

“Nothing. She said it was your story to tell.”

“No,” he answered quietly. “It was Alma's.”

She waited a beat before asking. “Was that your wife's name?”

“Yes.” He glanced at her beside him. “It means soul.”

She nodded, an almost shy smile gracing her lips. “I know. I took Spanish in high school.”

He looked back up toward the ceiling again, not seeing it.

“I thought she took mine when she died.” And then, abruptly, he rose up on his elbow and looked down at Cate. He felt as if he was standing on the very edge of a precipice, staring into the abyss. Wondering if he was going to fall. “Alma killed herself. And she killed our daughter.”

Shock waves resonated through her. For a second, Cate forgot to breathe.

T
he horror of what he must have had to endure slammed into her with the force of a Mack truck. Cate sat up and stared at him in disbelief.

“Oh, God, Christian, I am so sorry. What happened?” The question rose to her lips before she could stop it. She had no right to pry into his pain, even if she hoped to ease it. She was quick to try to erase her words. “No, wait. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.”

He realized that he wanted to tell her, to let her into the dark part of his life that he normally didn't share. He didn't explore why. Alma's death wasn't something that he talked about. Not with someone outside his own family. He doubted if any of the people he worked with at Blair Memorial knew very much about his past, other than his record as a physician. Certainly not this.

He took a deep breath and released it.

“I'd known Alma all of my life. She was beautiful, bright, but she had these demons….” His voice trailed off for a moment and Cate thought he'd decided against saying anything further. But then he continued. “Demons she couldn't conquer and I couldn't help her with.”

Christian turned his face toward her, drawing her closer. “Alma's father abused her for years, starting when she was a child. In every way possible.” He saw horror wash over Cate's face and knew she understood. “She didn't tell anyone until we were teenagers. When I found out, I told her father I'd kill him if he ever touched her again, but I think it was Uncle Henry who was the reason why he disappeared.” A slight smile curved his mouth. “Uncle Henry had ‘a few words' with Alma's father.” That was the way the old man had put it, but Christian was certain that fists had been involved. “Henry was a lot more formidable than I was back then.

“After that, my mother took Alma in, tried to make things right for her. But Alma was like a sparrow with a broken wing that could never heal.” The years came rushing back to him. It was hard trying not to react. They'd left their mark on him. “She was afraid her father would come back, afraid to be left alone. She begged me to take her with me when I went away to medical school.” He could still hear her voice, pleading with him. “And I loved her, so I took her with me.”

He took another breath, then blew it out, as if fortifying himself against the rest. “We got married before I graduated. Had Dana almost immediately.” His voice
softened when he mentioned his daughter. Sometimes, saying her name was almost too hard for him to bear. Her little life had been snuffed out almost before it had begun.

“I honestly thought that would do it for Alma, that it would make her put her past behind her. For a while, it did. She stopped drinking, tried to be a good mother to our daughter.” He'd been so hopeful back then. Hopeful and happy, convinced everything would turn out well. “And then she started slipping back.” He set his mouth grimly, putting the blame where he felt it belonged. On his shoulders. “I was too busy to see it, but things just kept getting darker and darker for her.

“There wasn't any one thing I could even look back on and point to that sent her over the edge. Maybe it was everything. But I thought things were good. I'd just been accepted by Blair Memorial, we were making plans…” He paused, trying to pull himself together. Trying not to let the past take him apart.

“That last weekend, I went back to the reservation to help out at the clinic. She insisted that she and Dana come with me because she didn't want to stay behind in our house.” A bittersweet smile played on his lips as he thought of the place he had long since sold. “I bought her that house to make her happy. Her first real house.”

But it hadn't made Alma happy. And he would never know what would have. Pain began to crowd his chest, chasing away the air as he went on. But he refused to stop until all the words were out.

“I went to the clinic, figured I'd be there most of the day. After a while, Alma waited until everyone was
gone, then she left with the baby. When she didn't come back, no one thought anything of it at first. Everyone just assumed Alma was visiting someone on the reservation, showing off the baby.”

His throat tightened, making it hard to talk. He pressed on, his whispered words hollow. “And then some of my mother's neighbors came. They said that Alma had walked out onto the tracks just as the train was coming. She had Dana in her arms. The engineer saw them, but there was no way he could stop in time. He almost derailed the train trying.”

Christian had to pause to work his way past the years that had gathered in his throat, all but cutting off his air supply.

Beside him, Cate lay perfectly still, listening. Horrified.

“I kept thinking that if only I had seen it coming, if I hadn't been so wrapped up in my own world, in becoming a doctor…”

Cate thought her heart was going to break. Reaching out, she brushed away the single tear that had managed to break free and had slid down along the side of his face. She felt as if she was looking into the mirror of her own pain when she had lost Gabe.

“It's not your fault.” She said it so fiercely, he looked at her. “Just like Gabe getting killed in the second tower wasn't mine.” She said the question that came into his eyes. “I was supposed to take some time off and go with him when he was sent to New York for that meeting. We both worked for the bureau together,” she explained. “Gabe wanted to make a holiday of it, but at the last minute, I changed my mind and decided to
finish up some work. I told him we could go to a bed-and-breakfast inn the following weekend instead.”

She moved her shoulders in a vague shrug. “The following weekend never came.” Her eyes met his. “For the next full year, I just wanted to die. Couldn't understand why I was still alive and he wasn't.” The question had haunted her, waking and sleeping, for all that time. “I wouldn't let anyone comfort me, but eventually I realized that some things just happen and there's nothing we can do about them.”

Without a word, Christian turned his body toward hers and drew her into his arms. Still silent, he sought the comfort he saw in her eyes. Sought to give her comfort for the pain she'd felt as well.

This time, the lovemaking was more tender, less frantic though no less intense in its effect. And somewhere in the night, two broken souls came together to form one new whole one.

 

“You're not going?”

Cate stared at Lydia incredulously the following Monday morning. It was the first day back into her own world. The weekend had been spent with Christian in his. More specifically, in his apartment, where she wore his shirts when she bothered to wear anything at all, cooked for him and tried to pretend that the outside world, both past and present, didn't exist. That there was nothing beyond the moment. And him.

But Monday came, as it was wont to do, with Monday's responsibilities, dragging the world in its wake like some giant, off-kilter pull toy. She'd gone to her apartment in the wee hours of the morning for a change
of clothes and a shift of attitude. She'd succeeded in one out of two.

Being with Christian like that, making love when the spirit moved them, enjoying just sharing the same space, the same air, had made her fiercely yearn for life again the way it could have been. The way she'd once planned for it to be.

It was hard now to pretend that there were no strings and that she was happy about that. Because she desperately wanted those strings.

But nothing could be resolved now and so she placed her desires on hold as she walked into the room she shared with the others on the task force.

The first words out of Cate's mouth had knocked her for a loop, given Friday's scene in Juanita's house—not to mention what she knew to be Lydia's frame of mind.

Maybe she'd heard wrong.

But Lydia looked completely serious when she delivered her news. Cate realized she didn't look upset.

“I decided that for once everyone else was right,” Lydia told her. “I was allowing this case to consume me. To turn me into an obsessed person. And this case shouldn't be about obsession.” She moved her shoulders beneath her fawn-colored jacket in a vague gesture of surrender. “Whether I bring the case to a close or you do doesn't matter. What matters is that it
is
brought to a close.” A very maternal smile found its way to her lips as Lydia splayed her hand over her still very flat belly and the baby she knew was there. “I owe something to the life I'm carrying, too.” She dropped her hand to her side with a resigned sigh. “Susan would understand.”

But Cate had her hand up like a police officer halting the flow of oncoming traffic. “Back up.” She stared at Lydia, sure she wasn't hearing correctly. “Me?”

Lydia nodded. “I talked it over with Sullivan. He was reluctant at first, but I got him to agree to it. He's very impressed with you.” If he was, Cate thought, it was all Lydia's doing. “Besides, you know Slavic languages.”

“I know Polish,” Cate was quick to correct. “That hardly qualifies me to travel through the Ukraine.”

Lydia's eyebrows drew together in a puzzled expression. “Then you'd rather pass?”

“Hell, no.” If Lydia wasn't going, then she wanted to. Desperately. This was true hands-on field work in its purest sense. She would actually see the results of what they were doing here, behind the scenes. “I just want you to know my limitations. Of course I won't pass.”

There was nothing else she would have wanted more than to bring one of the key men in this filthy enterprise down and to justice. She didn't fool herself into thinking that arresting Baker would be the end of it, but it might be the beginning of the end for this particular monster.

“The hard part,” she confided to Lydia, “will be to keep Baker unbruised during the trip home.” She realized that she might be jumping to conclusions. “I take it that your investigation didn't clear Baker.”

Again Lydia shook her head. “It nailed him. Made him the right man in the right place.” She told her about the final nail in the coffin. “I showed an array of photographs to Katya yesterday. She picked him out of
the crowd without any hesitation. He's our man, all right.”

“Now we just have to get him stuffed and mounted.” Since there was this kind of evidence against Baker, she knew the State Department would be quick to distance itself from the man. So his butt belonged to the bureau. “When do I leave?”

Now that it had been finally put in motion, the ball was rolling fast. “As soon as you can get your passport updated and throw some clothes into a suitcase.”

“I'm already gone.” She was halfway toward the door before she paused to look over her shoulder at Lydia. “Does Lukas know you're passing on this?”

“Yes.” This had been decided between them first, after a very long, satisfying night. She'd decided that maybe she'd allowed her work to take precedence over what really mattered in her life. Sullivan hadn't been pleased at first at the change in plans, but he had accepted her reasons once he knew them. And now she was faced with a desk job for the next eight months. But she had survived worse. And the grin on her husband's face had made it all worth it. “And he's very relieved.”

“I just bet he is.”

Cate lost no time in getting home.

On her way back to the office, Cate decided that no one's nose would be out of joint if she took a small detour and stopped by the hospital first.

Her intention was to check on Katya, who was being released soon.

And to see Christian.

She looked for Christian first. After a couple of in
quiries, she tracked him down to his office, where he was still seeing patients.

The nurse at the reception desk was not the same woman she'd met previously. This one appeared to be efficiency personified and was not about to interrupt “the doctor” while he was in with a patient unless she was about to go into labor and give birth to triplets right in the waiting room in the next five minutes.

There was a hint of a British accent as the nurse told her, “If you just leave your card, I'll be sure the doctor gets it.”

“No, I—”

And then Cate abruptly stopped. Maybe it was better this way, she thought. The weekend had been wonderful, but it was just two days out of a lifetime. Maybe she was making more out of the situation than it warranted. Than Christian would have wanted her to.

She needed to put things in perspective.

The problem was, things were moving so fast, it was hard to see everything in its proper light.

“All right.” Cate took one of her cards out of her pocket and wrote down, “See you when I get back,” across the back of it. With a faint smile, she handed the card to the nurse and left the office.

Cate squared her shoulders as she hurried off.
Okay, now focus on what you're supposed to do. Bring back the bad guy.

She was halfway down the corridor, on her way to the exit, when Christian finally caught up to her. Grabbing her arm, he turned her around to face him.

“What's this?” he wanted to know, holding up the card. “I walked out with my patient and Joyce handed
this to me.” He looked down at it. “‘See you when I get back,” he read. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I wanted to tell you in person, but your nurse is very protective of you. She didn't want to interrupt you and I couldn't wait around. I'm in a hurry.”

A flash of impatience flirted across his face before he blocked it. Christian drew her over to the side, out of the path of foot traffic.

“In a hurry to go where?” he asked.

“Lydia changed her mind about going to the Ukraine. I'm taking her place.”

All sorts of concerns and thoughts began to pop up throughout his head, crowding his mind. “Just like that?”

She nodded. “That's how it happens sometimes. Long spates of nothing, followed by frantic moments. We have to move fast, before this guy gets word that something's wrong and maybe starts destroying evidence.”