Three Marie Ferrarella Romances Box Set One (26 page)

She rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart. The downy hairs caressed her skin. She closed her eyes, shutting out tomorrow and all the cold responsibilities it brought with it.

But tomorrow has a nasty habit of arriving, wanted or not.

Spent, Charley and Reese had fallen into a blissful sleep. Charley woke to see moonlight flowing like airy streamers through the open weave in the curtains. Her first thought was an anxious one: Where was she?

The anxiety that gripped her lessened as the sound of rhythmic breathing penetrated her consciousness. Reese. Wonderful Reese. The events of the night came back to her, and for a moment she let memory fill her.

She was, though, too much a professional to let herself be swept away indefinitely. A green light caught her attention, and she turned her head. The digital clock on Reese’s nightstand proclaimed the hour to be 3:19. Hardly the time for a woman to be making her way home on the New York streets. But she had her gun and her defense training to make her feel secure. Her apartment was not that far away. Staying with Reese held the greater danger.

Charley knew she had to leave. She had done enough damage to her well-constructed defenses by letting Reese make love to her. What had happened did not change anything. Her assignment still had to be performed. Her conscience pricked her. If this was the way she did her duty when the country’s security was at stake . . . She didn’t finish the thought. At the very least she had been guilty of exposing Reese to danger.

Even so, she had to stifle an urge to touch him. She wanted to stroke his hair, to let her fingers curl about the thick, blue-black locks. But that might wake him, and if it did, there’d be no escaping him. Or her feelings. Charley quickly got out of bed.

In the living room she collected her crumpled clothes and threw them on. She was hurrying out of the apartment five minutes later, doing her best not to look back.

The dark streets held an aura of gloom about them; the city’s abnormal silence was broken only occasionally by the sound of a car. Charley forced herself to think of nothing, to concentrate on putting one foot in front of another.

A car slowed down and pulled up parallel to her. “Taxi, lady?” the cab driver called out.

He sounded awfully cheerful for this time of night, she thought, glancing at him. Every fiber of her body was suddenly alert. “No, I’d rather walk,” she said, dismissing him.

“Might be the last walk you ever take,” the cab driver cautioned, sounding friendly. Maybe too friendly, Charley thought. “You an out-of-towner?” he asked.

“No,” she answered, wishing the man would go away. She picked up her pace, but he continued to follow her.

“Then you don’t have any sense in your head,” he said. “Got a daughter like you. About the same age, too.” He paused, and Charley thought that perhaps he was giving up. But things were just not going her way lately. “Down on your luck?” he asked.

“In a way, yes,” she said. If being down on her luck meant leaving Reese behind, then yes, she was down on her luck.

“Had a hunch. Look,” the man said, glancing around. There wasn’t a soul in sight. “I ain’t supposed to do this, but—“ He stopped and threw open the back door. “Hop in.”

“What?” Charley asked, stunned.

“Hop in,” he repeated. “I’ll take you home for free. I don’t want no girl on my conscience,” he said firmly.

It might be a trick, Charley thought. But if he was one of the bad guys, he could have run her down with his cab just as easily as make elaborate overtures to get her inside. Maybe he was exactly what he seemed to be.

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, getting in.

“Now you’re being sensible. Always takes time with you younger ones,” he said, and shook his head.

Just before the overhead light went out as she shut the door behind her, she read that his name was Marvin Sykes. He talked a blue streak all the way to her apartment. His droning voice was comforting, in a way. It kept her from thinking. And feeling.

She tried to pay him when they reached her apartment, but Marvin refused, telling her she was going to be needing her money to get by. She gave up and thanked him, then went into the building.

Marvin smiled in satisfaction and turned on his off-duty sign. Leaning forward, he picked up the microphone from his dispatch monitor and made just one transmission.

“I got her home, Max.”

“Finally,” was the response.

Charley let herself into her apartment quietly, not knowing just what to expect inside. That was what she got for rooming with a traitor, she told herself. An endless case of nerves. But this time, she was almost grateful for the distraction the case offered. Distraction? She was supposed to be giving this assignment her full attention. Reese was the distraction. She was going to have to get her priorities in order if she was going to be any use to anyone—especially herself.

Allison was on the couch, sound asleep. With her blond hair fanned out around her, she looked like a sleeping angel. Charley reminded herself that appearances could be deceiving. She wondered if Allison had used her time alone to carry out any business. The Bureau had a man following Allison at all times; Charley might learn something from his report when she met with Max later today.

As she walked into her bedroom, though, Charley instructed herself not to think. She needed some sleep. Still, dawn crept into the room two hours later to find her still dressed, lying on her bed and staring at the fading shadows on her ceiling. She was going to look like hell today, she thought as she gave up and walked into the bathroom.

What was Reese going to think when he woke up and found her gone? she wondered. Probably that he had made love to a crazy woman.

Maybe, she thought sadly as she looked at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, he had.

Chapter Six

Charley had heard that FBI special agents were supposed to have nerves of steel. Somewhere along the line, hers must have rusted, she decided. There was no other explanation for her jumping three inches off the floor when Reese walked up behind her at rehearsal that morning. She dropped her half-empty coffee cup, dousing her ankles with hot black liquid. She yelped in pain.

“I have enough disturbance on stage!” Chalmers thundered, his voice ringing out above everything else. “I do not need any extra noise coming from backstage!”

“Who’d think that such a little man could have all that voice in him?” Charley said jokingly in an attempt to forestall anything that Reese might have to say. She still hadn’t figured out what to tell him if he asked why she’d left without waking him. If he asked? How could she expect him not to ask? She could feel her stomach tying itself in knots.

“Directors are created that way,” he answered, tossing the line off as if attempting to match her banter. “I reached for you this morning,” he went on, looking straight into her eyes. “Know what happened?”

She shook her head.

“I nearly fell out of bed. Not exactly the way I wanted to wake up.”

He studied her in silence for a moment, and Charley wondered what the look in his eyes meant. Was he disgusted? Annoyed? Or just puzzled? If she told him who she really was, what she really was, then a lot of things would become clear to him. But she wasn’t at liberty to disclose that right now.

So she stayed silent, hating it.

“I had no idea that you wanted to play hide-and-seek,” he said, a small smile creeping onto his lips. Then he looked around. Several people were milling about backstage, pretending not to be listening. Reese pulled Charley off to the side, away from curious ears. “Have you acquired a lot of hang-ups since you left me?” he asked.

“Something like that,” she muttered, staring at his shoulder. She didn’t trust herself to look up at him. She was afraid that he would read the truth in her eyes.

“We’ll work it out,” he promised her softly.

His words surprised her. He was incredible, she thought. “You’re not making this easy for me,” she said honestly, chewing the inside of her lower lip.

He raised her head, forcing her to look into his eyes. “I intend to make it impossible for you. Look,” he said, a slight note of impatience in his voice, “I don’t care what your hang-ups are, or how many men you’ve let love you. All I care about is that you’re here now and that you’ll be here later. For me.”

She swallowed hard. Why, why did she have to be on a case now? Why couldn’t she just grab him and run off into the sunset to live happily ever after? Why had that congressman been duped by Allison’s simpering expression, putting the country’s security into jeopardy? And making Charley’s life a mess in the process.

“Reese,” she said in a barely audible voice, “you’re one of a kind.”

“I already know that,” he said. “Question is, what are you going to do about it?” He ran his hand along her cheek, and she felt herself melting again. She needed so badly to be with him. But each time she gave in, it only became harder to say no the next time. And she didn’t want to involve him. These guys were not out to play games.

“McDaniel, what’s keeping you?” Chalmers bellowed. “Get the fools in scene five on stage.”

“I guess that means me,” Charley said, for once blessing Chalmers. He had saved her from answering Reese’s question. Another confrontation sidestepped. But how long could she continue?

When lunch rolled around, Charley made sure that Allison was accounted for. “Take her under your wing,” she said confidentially to Carol. Charley wanted to make sure Allison would not be alone while she herself was off meeting Max.

“What’s the matter with your wing?” Carol asked.

“I promised to meet someone. Allison’s rooming with me,” she explained, “and frankly, I don’t think she’s too bright. Fresh off the farm.”

Carol nodded grudgingly. “Okay, I’ll hold her hand in the diner. Boy,” she muttered good-naturedly as she walked off, “how’d I get appointed den mother?”

As Charley picked up her bag she could see Reese approaching. For just a split second she wavered. But aside from the fact that Reese would undoubtedly ply her with questions she couldn’t answer, Max would be worried if she didn’t show up. Not, she thought, that she had anything to tell him. But maybe he had something to tell her. After all, he was the one listening to secrets.

Fortune finally decided to smile on her. One of the actresses called Reese over to verify a stage direction. Thanking her lucky stars, Charley slung her purse over her shoulders and darted out of the rehearsal hall. As she started down the street she glanced behind her. No Reese. The words rang a little hollow even as she congratulated herself.

Max was waiting at a little Japanese restaurant seven blocks away. Charley glanced at her watch as an empty cab passed her. If she took a cab in midday traffic, she could be at the restaurant in twenty minutes. If she walked quickly, she could probably make it in five. She walked.

She arrived at the restaurant slightly breathless and was led into a tiny private room with paper walls, where Max was seated at a low table.

“Just come from Reese?” he asked without preamble. He continued to eat while he waited for her to seat herself.

“No,” she said defensively. “What makes you say that?” She pretended to occupy herself with spreading out her gold linen napkin.

“Three A.M. is a little late to be strolling home if you had just had a casual dinner date,” he said, looking up to study her.

She flushed guiltily. “How did you know?” she asked.

“It’s my business to know. I always stick to business,” he said, keeping his voice low.

There was no accusation in his tone, but there didn’t have to be. During almost a year of working with him, Charley had learned one thing. Max expected nothing short of the best. She had let him down.

“Look, Max, I—“

He held up one pawlike hand. “You don’t owe me any explanations. Fortunately, nothing went wrong. Miss Iowa made a call.” He turned back to his sushi.

Charley’s brows went up. “Oh?”

“She called her boyfriend.”

“Which one?”

“The one on our side,” Max answered, popping the raw fish into his mouth. Charley tried not to shudder.

“In Washington?” she asked. Max nodded. “Certainly is free with the phone, isn’t she?”

“She used her cell.” He stopped eating for a moment to watch Charley struggle with her chopsticks. “You’re doing that all wrong.”

“Obviously,” she muttered as the rice she was attempting to pick up dropped back into the bowl. “Don’t they have forks in this place?”

With a sigh, Max produced one from beneath a napkin. “I had a feeling you were going to have trouble.”

She took the fork and began to eat. “No wonder the congressman’s in debt. Did Allison say anything important?”

“She reminded him not to miss her preview performance in Boston. Try the sushi,” Max urged, indicating the black lacquer tray.

“Not on your life,” Charley said. “The first night?”

“Yes. She specifically said Tuesday.”

“Think that’s the night?” Charley picked up something that looked like a pork-and-rice combination and gave it a try.

“Sounds like it to me. She instructed him to pack carefully. And told him she was going to show him off to her friends after the show.”

“That’s the night, all right,” Charley said. “Did the agent following Allison see her contact anyone? She must have met her contact at some point during the last forty-eight hours to set up the time for the exchange.”

Max shook his head. “I was hoping you’d have some information on that. Our man Branigan has had her under surveillance whenever you weren’t around. He’s seen nothing.”

“Except for a few minutes at yesterday’s rehearsal, she hasn’t had a chance to contact anyone during the time I was with her. What about the phone? And other calls?”

“No. And Branigan says she went straight back to your apartment after rehearsal yesterday.”

“Did he watch the apartment as well?”

“He was stationed across the street in a parked car. Plenty of people came and left the building, of course, but no one who matched the description of anyone in the cast or crew.” Max rubbed his forehead in frustration. “Do you think you could get photos of everyone involved in the production? We could check them against FBI files in Washington for possible identification of our spy, and it would help our man to recognize anyone who approaches Allison in the future.”