Morgan's Wife (13 page)

Kit shrugged and looked at her husband, who stood silently, his profile silhouetted against the map on the wall. He was clearly suffering. "It's the right question to ask. That's why we've flown in with our entire family. Right now, Susannah Killian is playing baby-sitter not only to Morgan's Katherine, but to our children as well, at a hotel in
Fairfax
. Talking to Jake, I get the feeling they're worried about another hit from Ramirez. Anyone in the family could be vulnerable to attack. I think Jake wants all the
Trayherns
to go into hiding."

"It wouldn't be a bad idea right now," Pepper agreed slowly. "Especially if we hit Garcia and manage to take Laura away from him. I don't know how quickly or
if
he'll retaliate—or against whom."

"You can bet it will be our family," Noah growled, turning and walking slowly back toward them.

"Then you agree with Jake?" Kit asked.

"I do." The tall man picked up his coffee mug and took a swallow of the hot liquid. "I don't put anything beyond the realm of those murdering bastards."

Pepper could feel a number of new aches developing in her body. She needed to get out of this uncomfortable uniform, put arnica oil on her own minor injuries and take a long, hot bath. But she tabled her own discomfort for now because, by understanding some of the
Trayhern
family, she might be able to understand more about Laura and her potential actions or reactions—which could be important if they were able to get to her.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. Wolf poked his head in and looked at Pepper. "Colonel Woodward is asking for you. Got a minute?"

"Sure." Pepper excused herself and followed Wolf down the hall. Jake and Killian had just left the room where they'd taken Woodward earlier. The looks of relief on their faces told Pepper the good news. Trying to settle her suddenly pounding heart, she entered the room. Jim sat on a gurney, his left pant leg rolled up to just below his knee. The doctor, a woman in her early thirties, was just closing her black physician's bag.

"Pepper, I wanted you to meet Dr. Parsons," Jim said. He felt a tremendous rush of feelings as Pepper entered the room. Despite her disheveled state, she managed to look beautiful, he thought. "I told her you gave me those funny-looking sugar pills, and that they made the swelling go away on my sprain."

Pepper shook Dr. Parson's hand. "It's a homeopathic remedy, Doctor."

"Oh," Ann murmured thoughtfully. "That's a complementary form of medicine that's catching on here in the
U.S.
, isn't it?"

"Sure is." Pepper noticed Jim's gaze on her and felt a little uneasy. "I've got a doctor friend in Anaconda,
Montana
, who teaches classes on homeopathy. I'd gone to her about three years ago with some pretty severe muscle strains from a bad jump. She used homeopathy on me, and I was back at work two days later. It made a believer out of me, so I took classes from her over the years, and I always carry a small kit of remedies with me no matter where I go."

Ann raised he eyebrows.
"Sounds interesting.
Maybe you could give me her name and phone number." She pointed to Jim's
untaped
ankle. "By rights it should look fat and purple by now, but there's no swelling. He told me how badly he'd injured it, and I just couldn't believe it."

With a laugh, Pepper said, "It was the size of a healthy cantaloupe out there at the LZ, Dr. Parsons. I gave him a high dose, and I knew it would take down the swelling."

"Good thing," Ann said, "otherwise Colonel Woodward would be grounded and someone else would be taking this mission." She smiled warmly. "Good job, Ms. Sinclair."

When the flight surgeon had left, Pepper turned to Jim. She examined his ankle closely.
"Looks pretty good.
Are you as impressed as Dr. Parsons is?"

"More impressed," he said quietly. He saw the strain in Pepper's face. "You look the way I feel," he commented.

"I'm getting a bit achy from my bruises and the letdown that always comes after a jump like that," Pepper said, standing awkwardly in front of him. Despite what they'd been through, Jim appeared relatively unfazed. His short, dark hair was plastered against his head, with several strands falling across his wrinkled brow. Some smudges of dirt trailed along his jaw, but otherwise he looked as good as new. The front of his uniform was open, revealing the strong column of his neck and some of the well-sprung dark hair on his chest. He was
pulverizingly
masculine, Pepper realized belatedly. She'd been so busy shielding herself from his attention that she hadn't noticed the details of him as a man—until now.

"I need to go back to my hotel room and clean up," she croaked.

"You should," he agreed, then added, "Later, will you come over to my condo?"

"What?" Startled, Pepper halted on her way to the open door. She had a great deal of studying to do today—manuals to read and details to memorize.

Jim opened his hands.
"Tonight?
About 1900, will you come over?" he repeated.

Her heart started a traitorous beating in her breast. "Well…I—"

He saw her hesitation. Saw the fear in her glorious blue eyes. "Please?" He said it softly, with just a slight, pleading edge. Pepper's face visibly relaxed and most of the wariness left her eyes.

"Sure…"

"It's personal," he admitted softly, then looked around the room. "I need to say some things to you in private, Pepper."

Swallowing convulsively, she nodded. "I'll be there…."

Pepper's mouth was dry. It took a lot to make her nervous these days, but the possibility of intimacy—of the kind of unexpected feelings Jim had somehow managed to arouse in her in such a short time—had her running scared in a way that far surpassed the risk of jumping out of a plane into a raging fire. She knocked on the solid oak door of Jim's condominium. It was in a posh part of
Georgetown
—a redbrick building covered with dark green ivy that gave it an old, austere look. The building suited him, she thought. He was old-fashioned in many
ways,
clinging to certain traditions just as they ivy clung to the brick. The door opened, and Pepper's heart bounded once to underscore her surprise.

Jim wore civilian clothes, a pair of comfortable, navy blue chinos, a collegiate white shirt open at the collar and simple brown loafers. He looked approachable. Far too approachable, her heart warned. And when his mouth curved in a sincere welcome, Pepper became tongue-tied, which wasn't like her at all.

"Come on in," he invited, standing to one side and gesturing for her to enter. He wondered if he'd ever quit being surprised by her. She wore a long, dark green corduroy skirt and a soft mohair sweater of pale pink and green. Her hair, which had been matted and snarled after their ordeal this morning, glowed under the hall light, with golden strands sparkling among the dark brown ones. She wore no makeup, but she didn't need any. The flush of her cheeks emphasized the guarded look in her glorious blue eyes. Instead of shoes, she wore black suede boots and carried a purse to match. As she stepped inside, Jim inhaled the fragrance of her perfume; it reminded him of jasmine blooming in spring.

"Are you sure you're a smoke jumper?" he teased as he quietly shut the door.

Pepper smiled uneasily. "Are you sure you're a Recon Marine?" she countered.

"Touché."
As he reached to help her off with her coat, his fingertips brushed her shoulders, and it was as if a shock ran through him. Jim felt a powerful desire overwhelm him. Never had he wanted to kiss a woman more than in this fleeting moment. It cost him every ounce of control to keep from doing exactly that. He hung Pepper's coat in the closet and motioned for her to follow him. "I guess neither of us
look
like our jobs, do we?"

"I make a point of not looking like my job. Otherwise I'd be a mess all the time," Pepper said in a strained voice, her skin tingling where he'd barely grazed her shoulders. She quickly looked around. The condominium was spacious and tastefully decorated. The ceilings were high, in keeping with the traditional style of older East Coast buildings, with ornate plaster patterns detailing the expanse. The hall was painted beige, the walls holding a number of original oil paintings, most of them landscapes. As she entered the living room, Pepper smiled to herself. A gray-and-white cat sat on the burgundy-striped sofa. The room was large, with a television in one corner, a stereo unit in another. A mahogany coffee table stood in front of the couch, with fresh fruit overflowing from a cut-glass bowl. The chairs, in shades of burgundy and navy, were complimented by a beige carpet.

"Did you decorate this?" she asked, impressed as she scanned the walls, where more pictures hung.

"I couldn't have in a million years," Jim admitted, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his chinos. If he didn't put them somewhere, he was going to touch her. He felt good as he saw the radiance in Pepper's face as she examined the room. She didn't miss much. With a chuckle, he added, "My only contribution to the interior designer's touches was this alley cat. Frank, meet Pepper. Pepper, this is Frank."

Pepper smiled and crossed the room, to gently stroke the large cat's scarred head. Both Frank's ears were partially gone.
"Looks like he's been in more than a few fights."

Jim took his hands out of his pockets again, trying to contain his nervousness. "I found him on my porch one morning last winter," he said, coming around to the end of the couch, where Frank lay purring contentedly. "The garbage truck had hit him, and he crawled up on my stoop and waited for me to come home."

Pepper straightened and looked directly into Jim's eyes. "He must have known there was something special about you.
That you'd take care of him.
Cats have good instincts."

Ruefully, Jim held her warm, searching gaze. He didn't deserve Pepper's forgiveness for what had almost happened today, yet he knew he already had it. Could he have been as generous, if he'd been in her shoes? He doubted it. "It was a little rough at first, because he had a broken front leg, and he wasn't too happy about being incarcerated here, unable to go outside."

Pepper's mouth softened. She melted beneath his dark, hooded look. Again she saw a smoldering fire banked in his eyes—a fire that had something to do with her. Struggling to maintain an air of neutrality, she forced her voice to remain even as she said, "Well, it looks as if Frank has since made the adjustment from scrappy alley cat to fat cat."

"Yeah, he has. Come into the kitchen. I'm putting the final touches on our dinner." Jim forced himself to move, to break the almost-tangible connection that seemed to establish itself between them anytime they were together.

Pepper followed him at a distance, relieved to have his focus shift away from her. "Did you buy Chinese? Or stop at a local fast-food joint?" she teased. Jim walked with only a hint of a limp, she noticed. Silently, she gave thanks for her knowledge of homeopathy. Despite her confidence in her own abilities, Pepper knew she couldn't pull off such a mission without Jim's help and knowledge.

As they walked from the carpeted living room into any airy, light green kitchen with green-and-white polka-dotted curtains framing the window over the sink, Pepper smiled to herself. Jim might be like any other bachelor, but he didn't live like some of them did.

"A number of men on my team are single," she said, stopping a few feet from him, her hip against the kitchen counter, "and their apartments are in sorry shape compared to yours. I feel like I've stepped into
Better Homes and Gardens.
"

Jim pulled a bottle of chardonnay out of a bucket in the sink, where it had been chilling. "I hate to burst your bubble about me. Not that I haven't already, but this place was decorated this way before I bought it—from a general and his wife."

"
Ohh
…" Pepper met his sheepish smile and watched him pour the white wine into two crystal goblets.

Jim handed a glass to Pepper, his fingers barely meeting hers. For an instant, he saw surprise register in her eyes. She felt it, too, he thought. But just as quickly, he saw her hide her response. In that moment, her full vulnerability became excruciatingly apparent. Without thinking, he removed the glass from her hand and placed it on the counter.