Morgan's Wife (33 page)

"Sounds like a good match."

With a grimace, Jim said, "Actually, Jake says these two don't get along at all. But he doesn't have a choice. They don't have their regular partners, and he doesn't have another option right now. They've got to move fast on this, because if Garcia thinks we know about
Maui
, we're sure he'll move Jason somewhere else, and it could take months to pick up another solid lead."

With a shake of her head, Pepper murmured, "I'm glad we could do what we did. I don't envy
Sabra
or Craig. One mission like that is plenty for me."

Jim attempted a smile. "No, you're not a mercenary at heart." Then he amended his statement. "You're a warrior when it comes to a cause that means a lot to you, though."

Heat flooded her cheeks, and Pepper looked away from his intense gaze. "Yes…I guess." She managed a strangled sound. "I always said I was Don Quixote—tilting at the windmills in life." Wasn't
that
the truth? She'd fallen for John, given her heart, her soul, and
look
what it had gotten her.

Jim forced himself to move forward, closer to Pepper. She looked excruciatingly uncomfortable, and he had no desire to add more agony to her life than he already had. "Lady, you're the last person I'd accuse of such a thing. You're a passionate person, someone who embraces what she believes fully." He forcefully kept his hands at his sides, fearful that if he didn't, he'd reach out and put them on her slumped shoulders.

"Sure," Pepper said a little breathlessly, her pulse leaping as Jim came within a few feet of where she stood. "It's called being a right-brained woman." She couldn't help herself; automatically, she tensed as Jim took another step toward her. Why didn't he realize it was torture to be with him and not to reach out and touch him?

"No apologies are needed."

Pepper sobered and cast about for some sane response. "I'm not giving any. I like being a woman, and I like thinking and feeling like one." She glanced around her office. "I might be in a man's career, but I don't allow it to affect me as a woman." She tapped her chest. "I work strictly off my feelings, gut and intuition. It's saved lives."

Jim nodded. "I like your fire, your belief in yourself." How he wanted to experience that fire again firsthand. She might be cool and calm on the outside, but he'd acknowledged the inner heat that burned deep within her. His aching need of her grew at the thought.

"My confidence was earned the hard way, believe me," Pepper said with more than a little fervency. Taking a step away from him, she said, "Let's go to dinner."

Jim glanced at his watch. "I haven't eaten since noon, East Coast time. I don't know anything about the local eateries, but I bet you do." His breath became suspended, because Pepper's face softened for a moment, and he saw her without that mask of anger and distrust she'd been wearing. The expression on her face confused him. For a split second, he saw hope in her flawless blue eyes, followed by fear, then something else he couldn't quite define. Realizing he was holding his breath, he made a conscious effort to expel it.

"Well—uh—sure…if you want," Pepper responded hesitantly.

He'd never wanted anything more, he thought as a surge of joy tunneled through him. He had a tough time keeping a neutral look on his face as she acquiesced to his invitation, even if less than wholeheartedly. "Besides," he murmured, eyeing her desk with a teasing tone, "it looks like you need a break from all this government red tape."

Pepper groaned in response,
then
laughed. Suddenly, she felt free, euphoric. Going to her desk, she opened the bottom drawer and pulled out her dark brown
elkskin
knapsack, which doubled as a purse. They were having dinner, she admonished herself. That was all.
A one-shot deal.
"You ought to know," she countered. "You're in the military paper machine. I'm at the opposite end of the spectrum, but a government-run agency is a government-run agency."

Jim stepped aside, realizing Pepper needed to keep a safe distance from him. Did she have any of the urge to embrace him and kiss him that he felt for her? He wasn't at all sure, but his head cautioned him to proceed slowly, to feel his way intuitively with her. When she straightened and slung one strap of the knapsack over the Pendleton coat she'd donned, he smiled warmly at her.

Pepper felt the hot sunlight of Jim's smile—and the promise that came with it. Again, desire burned in his eyes.
For her?
Why? He loved Laura. She stepped past him and turned off the light, then closed and locked her office door behind them.

"If you're expecting a five-star restaurant out here, you'll be disappointed," she said as she switched off the main lights to the facility and the place was bathed in gloom once more. She took the lead, knowing the way to the door by heart.

"You choose," Jim told her. Their voices carried eerily through the structure. Pepper opened the door. As the last to leave, it was her responsibility to lock up. The air outside was freezing, their breath visible as they walked through the snow to the parking lot behind the building. Above, the night sky was dotted with thousands of sparkling stars. Pepper felt Jim come abreast of her, his shoulder sometimes brushing hers as they walked carefully along the snow-packed trail to the asphalt lot. A few street lamps lighted the way.

"Man, it's cold here," Jim said, pulling the collar of his leather jacket up around his neck.

Pepper nodded. With her heavy coat, she wore a warm knit cap and a pair of
elkskin
gloves lined with sheepskin. "Your D.C. gear won't keep you warm in
Montana
," she agreed. Her heart kept up its rapid beat. She felt like she was floating! All her awareness was focused on Jim, on the fact he was here—with her. As much as she wanted to let down her barriers, Pepper knew she didn't dare. She kept reminding herself of her own past pain, of Jim's involvement with Laura.
Two good reasons to keep him at bay.

Giving him a quick, nervous glance, she reveled in the shadowed contours of his strong face. How desperately she wanted to explore it, to explore him. But there was no hope for them, she reminded herself for what felt like the millionth time.

Jim smiled warmly at Pepper, reading a mix of fear and confusion in her darkened eyes. They made it to the parking lot. The only two cars in it were parked side by side. "I can't think of a better place to be right now," he said. Pepper drove a Jeep, he noted, smiling to himself. The vehicle was obviously old, with a lot of dents and in need of a paint job. He had no doubts that on her days off, she blazed trails in the wilderness of the Montana Rockies, hence the less than mint condition of her intrepid vehicle.

Pepper dug into her knapsack for her keys. Her fingers were trembling—Jim's unsettling effect on her. She saw that his rental car was new and fairly clean, considering he'd driven from Anaconda. It made her wince at her beloved Jeep, which looked like a nag next to the thoroughbred of a car he had rented. Oh, well. He might as well know the real her.
Why?
The word haunted her. Turning at the door to her Jeep, she said, "There's a diner in town. It isn't much to look at, sort of like my Jeep here, but it serves great home-cooked food. Mandy, the owner, makes the best apple pie I've ever tasted. It's even better than my mom's, and hers is great."

Jim said, "Sold. I'm a sucker for a home-cooked meal."

"Spoken like a true military type. Home-
cookin
' is hard to get a hold of in the service."

Jim fished the keys from his pocket, momentarily lost in the laughter he saw flash in Pepper's eyes. How desperately he wanted to know this.
Pepper, so comfortable in these giant mountains in their winter raiment and this sleepy town nestled deep in the valley.

"Just follow me. It isn't far," she called, sliding onto the cold seat of her Jeep.

Jim liked the old diner. It was straight out of the Depression era, with a mustard yellow interior, its chrome tables topped by red Formica. The place was filled at this time of night, mostly with locals who had been out getting firewood, hunters and townspeople. He noticed a Non Smoking sign on the door, and praised the owner for her courage in putting it up. Inside, he saw many Pendleton coats, red-and-black checked flannel shirts, knit caps and jeans.

As they walked down the aisle between the booths, Pepper was greeted warmly by the locals. There was no question that she was well liked, Jim thought, as he ambled behind her. Noticing the way just about every head in the place followed them to a corner booth, he smiled to himself. By the way he was dressed and his unfamiliar face, they all knew he was an outsider.

Sitting down across from Pepper, he murmured wryly, "Nothing like sticking out like a sore thumb, eh?"

She shed her coat, cap and gloves. "Don't take it personally. Usually, by this time of year, the tourists have left, and it's just us locals. When we see a dude from the East come in, it's a novelty, that's all."

The waitress, dressed in a white uniform with a black apron, smiled as she handed them menus and automatically filled their cups with coffee.

Pepper saw the look on Jim's face. "Around here, real men and women drink coffee."

"I see." He met her gaze
which
alternated between warmth one moment and wariness the next. "I'd really get talked about if I ordered hot tea with lemon, wouldn't I?"

She laughed heartily, holding his gaze. How wonderful his sense of humor was. Pepper realized how much she didn't know about Jim—and how much she wanted to know. Joy flowed through her, hot and sweet. Did she dare hope? Dare dream?

"You're really funny."

"Thank you, I'll take that as a compliment." Jim took a sip of coffee. "Whew, this is strong stuff."

Pepper said, "We have a saying about Mandy's coffee—actually, I guess it's a military saying. ‘If you put a spoon in the center of the mug, it will stand at attention and salute you back.'"

"That's powerful coffee," Jim agreed, amused. Pepper's eyes cleared of wariness and her cheeks once again blossomed with their familiar pink, making her look excruciatingly lovely. He had to force himself to stop staring into her sky blue eyes. Did she realize how beautiful she was? How he wanted to tell her exactly that! Even more, he wanted to show her. The waitress returned, and Pepper ordered without even looking at the menu, so Jim surmised she was a regular here. He chose a T-bone steak with all the trimmings.

Trying to quell her nervousness, Pepper cleared her dry throat and asked, "How long will you be here?"

Jim became serious, his smile dissolving. He felt renewed tension radiating from Pepper, and he lifted his heavy white coffee mug in both hands. The old jukebox in the corner was playing a romantic song from the sixties, a slow song—one of his favorites. "Well, I got an open-ended return ticket." His throat ached with tension.

"Oh."

He looked up through his lashes. "Really, it depends upon you."

Pepper sat very still. Her heart pulsed powerfully. "With Christmas coming, I imagine you'll want to be home," she murmured nervously.

Shrugging, Jim said, "Home is where the heart is." He looked around the diner and then back at her, his expression growing tender. "I know you go home for Christmas to visit your folks."

"Yes…" Pepper stared down at her coffee mug, her hands clasped in her lap beneath the table. She began perspiring as her mind leapt to a number of responses, none of them seeming appropriate. Out of sheer desperation, she whispered, "The roses you sent were beautiful, Jim. I didn't really thank you for them."

He smiled tentatively, watching her closely. "I wanted to let you know, in some way, how I felt about you. About us…" Pepper, he was discovering, wouldn't look him in the eye when she was nervous. Instead, she stared down or past him. This woman warrior, who had more courage and guts than most of the men he knew, was wonderfully vulnerable in a way that made him want to protect her. There was nothing hard or implacable about Pepper. She was right—she had clung to her femininity and not allowed the male world to strip her of it, as it had so many other women who'd been in the military. Suddenly the love he held for her seemed so incalculably deep and moving that he knew he'd never be able to put it into words. He could only show her—if she would allow him that privilege.