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“I don’t know, Pam. So much has happened to both of us since those days. We can’t just—” Somehow he couldn’t keep his mind on what he was saying as she unfastened his pants and slid them down his legs.
As soon as she touched him, his body responded. She cupped him, crooning her admiration and satisfaction.
He scooped her up and laid her on the padded bench, rapidly disposing of the remaining items of clothing they both wore. He slipped his hands through her hair, removing hairpins until it fell like a veil around her head.
“Do you have any idea how many dreams I’ve had of you, dreams of making love to you, dreams of you looking at me in just that way?” he whispered.
“Show me, Clay,” she responded, placing her arms around his neck and pulling him down to her.
He knelt between her legs, resisting the urge to plunder. Instead, he wanted to take his time and explore her. He leaned down and licked the hardened tips of her breasts, one after the other, smiling when she shivered.
“Are you still cold?” he asked.
“No. Oh, no. I feel as though I’m burning up inside, waiting for you to take care of the fire.”
He rewarded her honesty with a kiss that represented all the years of missing her, loving her, grieving for the loss of her in his life. Then he began a trail of kisses down her body, wanting to memorize her with his mouth and tongue.
She cried out when he touched her through her thick curls. He savored her for a moment before trailing kisses down her inner thigh and the back of her knee. He glanced up at her as she lay with her eyes closed and her neck arched slightly, her body glowing in the dim light from the moon.
He moved to the other knee and began his slow way back up, pausing once again at the apex of her thighs, giving her the pleasure he denied himself.
She groaned out his name, her breathing uneven. No longer able to lie quiet, she undulated, silently begging him to enter her.
He could no longer ignore her plea. In one long stroke of possession he moved inside her, fighting to maintain his control until he brought her to the very peak they both sought.
She wrapped her legs around him, holding him tightly against her, and met each thrust with her own. She chanted his name with each movement, placing hot kisses on his mouth, his cheeks and his jaw.
It had been so long—too long—but he could no longer hang on to his control. Instead, he increased his pace, moving faster, his rhythmic movement driving them both onward. He felt her tension increase until her involuntary spasms signaled that she had gone over the edge, taking him with her.
When he felt his own body release he cried out her name as he tumbled into the darkness of oblivion once more.
The persistent br-ring of a nearby phone drifted into Clay’s consciousness, forcing him out of an almost unconscious state. Without opening his eyes he fumbled for the receiver and pulled it to his ear. “H’lo,” he mumbled.
“Rise and shine, Callaway. We’ve got work to do.” Sam’s rumbling voice was like a shock of cold water.
“Yes, sir,” he responded automatically.
“Meet me downstairs at the coffee shop in twenty minutes.” Sam hung up the phone.
Clay let the receiver drop back into the cradle with a groan. He felt as though he’d just fallen into bed. He forced his eyes open to a squint in order to see his watch. It was almost eight o’clock. He hadn’t gotten to bed until after two, but he was thankful to have gotten at least a few hours of rest.
He rolled over onto his back and only then remembered that he was sharing the bed with Melanie.
Melanie. Had he made love to her last night? Or had he dreamed it? He couldn’t remember what was fatigue-induced fantasy and what had actually happened. He definitely recalled dreaming at one point, but not about Melanie. He’d been dreaming about—
He sat up in bed and pushed the covers away. He had to get downstairs right now. This was the day he was officially assigned to work with a woman he’d hoped never to see again.
He glanced over his shoulder and met the horrified gaze of the woman in bed with him.
He closed his eyes, convinced he was hallucinating. Melanie’s eyes were a gorgeous black. The eyes staring at him were a pansy-blue. There was only one woman he’d ever known with eyes that color.
Pamela McCall.
Chapter 3
Clay stared at the woman in his bed in complete and total shock.
“What are you doing here!” they both said in unison.
Clay leaped off the bed as though he’d been stung by a swarm of hornets and then realized that he was buck naked.
Son of a—He didn’t finish the thought, but he knew he was in trouble, big-time. He had gone to bed wearing his boxer shorts. There was only one reason for him not to be wearing them now.
The dream he remembered was a hell of a lot more real than he wanted it to be.
He flipped the sheet back on his side of the bed and scrambled for his shorts, almost groaning out loud as he discovered them at the bottom of the bed.
He jerked them on before he turned back to her. She sat up in bed, her hair tumbled around her shoulders, clutching the sheet to her chest. Pam looked thoroughly loved and sexy as hell. Her eyes, however, told a very different story.
“I want to know what you’re doing in my room,” she said grimly.
“I—uh, well…” He shoved his hand through his hair. “Damn it, I don’t know! I thought this was my room. You don’t think I deliberately came here last night to—” He spluttered to a halt, unable to put into words what had happened.
“I don’t know what to think, Clay. You practically looked through me all evening and then you—you—well, you crawl into my bed and…” She paused, apparently unable to give voice to what had happened.
“I know we need to talk about this,” he finally said when she didn’t say anything more, “but frankly, I don’t have the time right now. I’ve got to get downstairs.” He almost told her why, but if she didn’t know about the planned meeting and that he was going to be working with her, he did not want to be the one to break the news to her. The situation was volatile enough as it was.
He hastily gathered his clothes from the floor, retracing his trail from the night before. Hell, he scarcely remembered coming into the room, much less undressing and getting into bed.
How could he have made such a stupid mistake?
He found his bag, opened it and pulled out the first clothes he could find, which happened to be underwear, a pair of well-worn jeans and a faded knit shirt. Without looking toward the bed, he retraced his steps and went into the bathroom. He quickly showered before getting dressed.
He returned to his bag and grabbed a worn pair of running shoes and put them on. Then he left the room. What in the hell had he been doing in Pam’s room? Hadn’t Melanie told him room 937?
He stopped in the middle of the hallway and rubbed his aching head.
Or had she said 973?
Damn.
He must have gotten the room numbers confused. And of all the people that he might inadvertently end up spending the night with, why did it have to be Pamela McCall?
When he spotted room 973 on his way to the elevators, Clay impulsively paused before the door and knocked. Within a short time the door opened. Melanie stood there in a filmy negligee, her expression puzzled.
For a very good reason.
“Good morning, Clay,” she said, taking in his casual dress, a far cry from the tuxedo he’d been in the last time she’d seen him. Instead of commenting on his clothes, she lifted an eyebrow and drawled, “When you said you were going to be late getting to bed, you weren’t kidding.”
He leaned his hand against the doorjamb and scrubbed his face with his other hand. “This has been one hell of a get-together. I’ll explain everything after I get back from another meeting.” He straightened, trying to think of something to say, something believable, something—forgivable?
“I know when you hear my story, you’ll be able to see the humor in it, but right now—” He shrugged. “I’m already late for a meeting and—”
“Your meetings are definitely getting in the way of our reunion,” she replied, eyeing him with a wary look.
“As soon as we’re through, I’ll be back to see you. I promise.”
“It’s a good thing I haven’t been holding my breath for you to keep your promises, Clay.”
He shook his head. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” he murmured, aware of the terrible truth of that statement. He gently squeezed her hand. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He hurried to the elevators and pushed the button. He glanced over his shoulder and watched as Melanie closed the door.
The pinging sound of the elevator caught his attention. He stepped inside and pushed the lobby button, glad that at least for the moment he had the car to himself.
What in the world was he going to do? How could he possibly explain to Melanie what he couldn’t fully explain to himself? Plus, he still had to face Pam.
The doors opened and he crossed the lobby in long strides toward the coffee shop. He spotted Carruthers at the last booth, sitting with his back to the wall, as soon as he stepped inside the room. Clay wondered how the man could look so polished and alert in his casual clothes this early in the day. Sam wore a light blue T-shirt the same shade as his piercing gaze. Clay walked past the row of booths and paused at the last table. Another man sat across the table from Sam.
The two men stopped talking when he approached. Sam glanced up at Clay, picked up the carafe near his elbow and poured coffee into a third cup on the table.
“Sit down,” he said with a half smile. “You look like you could use this.”
The other man moved over and Clay sat down beside him. He propped his elbows on the table and dropped his head into his hands. “You have no idea,” he muttered, wishing he could redo the past twenty-four hours.
Sam cleared his throat and said, “Clay Callaway, I want you to meet Joe Chavez. Joe’s from Florida, one of the best reconnaissance men I’ve ever worked with. He kindly volunteered to help us out here.”
Clay raised his head and looked at the man beside him. Dark eyes bored into him before Joe offered his hand. “How’s it going?” Joe murmured politely.
Clay heard himself chuckle with a sense of disbelief that he could exhibit any sense of humor. “Believe me, you don’t want to know.” He briefly shook Joe’s hand. “A volunteer, huh?”
“The colonel has a fine sense of humor,” Joe replied with a deadpan expression.
“No titles here,” Sam said. “We’re on a first-name basis on this little party. No need to be too formal since we’re supposed to be army buddies enjoying a little R and R.”
Joe rolled his eyes, making Clay feel better by the minute. So he wasn’t the only one commandeered to work this job.
Sam checked his watch. “I finally reached Pamela McCall. I left a message for her when I arrived last night but she didn’t return my call. Since I didn’t have her room number, I had the hotel put my call through a few minutes ago. She said she’d be down as soon as possible, but not to wait on her for breakfast.”
The waitress came and took their orders. As soon as she left, Sam said, “Joe’s been briefed on what’s happened here recently. We’re agreed that it would be a relatively simple matter to set explosives on land, but it took some tough professionals—some-one trained as we were—to do the underwater demolition work on the offshore rig. So it’s possible we’re going to find that Uncle Sam trained whoever did this.
“My biggest concern was to pick investigators that I could trust absolutely in any given situation. That’s why you two are here. You work well alone, you’re damn good explosives men, and you can put yourselves in the perp’s head to figure out how it was done.
“It’s up to us to find out why, as well. We’re going to do just that, which is why Ms. McCall is part of the group. She knows how to analyze records and do background checks, which will relieve us of that much.”
“Does she know who she’ll be working with?” Clay could no longer resist asking.
Sam shook his head. “Most of the time she’ll be working alone gathering information. Clay, I’m assigning her to you because she may need to do some fieldwork. I know she’s a trained operative, but most of her experience has been in the office. I’d feel better knowing you were with her in case we run into unexpected trouble. We’re also going to need to set up a command post that’s centrally located.”
Clay said, “The families have condo units in Austin we could use. There are several of them in one building. There shouldn’t be a problem with our staying there.”
Sam nodded thoughtfully. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll speak to Cole about that as soon as we finish here. Plus, we’re going to need some transportation,” he added, looking at Clay. To Joe, he said, “You’ve got the rental car you picked up at the airport for your use.”
Once again Clay spoke up. “My dad has a couple of pickup trucks we could borrow.”
Sam smiled. “I intend to rent a car, but I may wait until I get to Austin. Cole said something last night about having the company plane available for our use. He suggested we meet in the lobby at noon. By then, he’ll have arranged transportation for us to the airport where his plane is located. I figure that’s how we’ll go to Austin.” He looked at both of them and asked, “Do either of you have any questions?”
Chavez took a sip of his coffee. “What are the local authorities saying about this series of events?”
“They’re scratching their heads,” Sam replied. “I’m not much into trusting local authority. We’re going to be working independently, and we’re not going to be sharing anything we get with the locals.”
Chavez nodded.
After a moment, Sam said, “We’ve got a man who’ll get hired on at the offshore rig. He’ll be able to report anything he finds there. We’ve got to know quickly if this was an inside job or not. Chavez, you’re going to be covering the border area in south Texas, and your story is that you’re looking for family members. It will be a good cover for asking questions.” He paused while the waitress placed their orders in front of them. Once she was gone, he said, “Callaway, you and Pamela will be working with me in the central Texas area.”
He glanced past the men and stood. “Good morning, Ms. McCall. Glad you could join us.” He held out his hand and shook hers before motioning for her to sit down next to him.
Clay reluctantly looked up. She wore a pair of soft green tailored slacks and a cream-colored long-sleeved silk shirt. She’d woven her hair into a single braid pinned in a coil at the nape of her neck. She looked pale this morning, which wasn’t surprising, given the circumstances.
She also looked calm, very cool and ultrasophisticated.
“I want you to meet your teammates, Pam. This is Clay Callaway and Joe Chavez. Pamela McCall.”
Clay had to give her credit. If he hadn’t been watching her carefully he wouldn’t have noticed the slight tightening of her facial muscles as she nodded to each of them.
“Gentlemen,” she said quietly, sliding across the bench seat and folding her hands together on the table. Her gaze didn’t quite meet his.
Sam filled the last empty cup on the table with coffee and handed it to her. She took it gratefully, lifting it to her mouth without looking at either of the men across from her.
The waitress returned to the table. When she looked at Pam for her order, Pam shook her head and said, “Coffee’s fine for me.”
Sam glanced at her and almost said something, then shook his head. The three men quickly made short work of the meal in front of them while Pam had a second cup of coffee.
After he finished eating, Sam refilled his cup and looked at Pam. “I was just telling them that we need to keep our cover story simple. Clay’s on leave. I’m retired and visiting old friends. Joe is looking for extended family members. I was told that you know the Callaway family. I thought it would make sense to have you and Clay paired off. I doubt that anyone would think anything of seeing you together as a couple.”
She cleared her throat. Without meeting Clay’s gaze, she said, “Is that really necessary? My work doesn’t call for me to interact with another person. My guess is that Clay will be needed more in the field.”
Sam nodded. “That’s true. But you’ll need to stay in constant contact with each other. I don’t want you sneezing without his knowing about it. This thing is going to take long hours because we’re going to be thorough. If you have a problem working with Callaway, you need to tell me now.”
Pam darted a quick glance at Clay. He smiled at her, daring her to tell the colonel about their shared past. He knew he sure as hell wasn’t going to mention it.
“Whatever you want to do is fine with me,” she replied, absently nibbling on her bottom lip. Clay was immediately reminded of his erotic dream last night—the dream that had become immensely real. He remembered touching her soft lips. He remembered doing all kinds of things he now wanted very much to forget.
“All right,” Sam said. “Here’s what you need to know about my background. I’m from Virginia. We met some years back. I’m retired from the army—currently keeping an eye on the family farm. I’m here visiting friends.” He looked at Clay. “You heard I was in town and invited me to visit you.”
“Uh, yes, sir. And my reason was…?”
Sam’s lips quirked. “You wanted to see me again, perhaps? Maybe renew our friendship?”
Clay leaned back in his chair and looked at Sam. “I guess that works,” he replied. He looked at Pam. “Is that what we’re doing…renewing our friendship?”
