Someday Soon (14 page)

“In other words, he was the one who put an end to it?”

Francine nodded but avoided meeting her mother’s eyes.

“He must feel deeply about you, Francine. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have cared about the risk, despite his own background. Why should he when he’ll be gone shortly?”

“Afterward I thought about what happened.”

“Yes,” her mother coaxed.

“And I realized I went to bed with him for all the wrong reasons. I love him, yes, but in my heart that was only a small part of my wanting to make love.”

“You thought it would keep him in San Francisco,” her mother supplied for her.

Francine’s head shot up. “That’s exactly what I hoped, but I know now it would never have worked. Every day Tim drives himself harder and harder with one goal in mind. He’s eager to get back to Florida. Get back with his friends.”

“In other words, he’s eager to leave you.”

“Yes.”

“Let him go, Francine.”

“You make it sound so easy. I know what you’re going to say—if it’s meant to be, he’ll come back. I wish it were that simple, but it isn’t.”

“What can you do to hold him here?”

Francine had already given this matter a good deal of thought. “Nothing.”

Her mother patted her hand gently.

“It isn’t fair. This is the first time in my life that I’ve ever been in love. There hasn’t been another man I ever loved like this. He may be the only one I ever will.”

“Perhaps.”

However painful, Francine was grateful her mother didn’t try to convince her otherwise. It had taken her nearly thirty-one years to fall in love the first time. She’d be over sixty if she had to wait that long again.

All at once Francine had the incredible urge to laugh. It started out as a soft giggle, then gained in intensity until she was nearly doubled over.

“Francine?” Her mother was looking at her strangely.

“Monday morning when I arrived at the house,” she said between breaths, “Tim had a case of condoms delivered.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Francine wiped the moisture from her cheeks. Leaning toward her mother, she lowered her voice. “Tim had one hundred and forty-four condoms brought to the house just in case we found ourselves in similar circumstances. I swear he has them planted in every room. There’s even an ashtray full of condoms by the pool.”

“I think I could grow to like your Mr. Mallory.”

“That’s the problem, Mom, he isn’t mine.”

“Don’t give up just yet,” her mother said softly. “Life has a way of working matters out for the best. If you lose him, then that was the way it was meant to be. My guess is that he knows less about love than most men. He’s as perplexed about the whole thing as you are. Give him time.”

Francine mulled over her mother’s words of wisdom that night. The following morning she arrived at Tim’s house at her usual time. Her job was nearly finished now. At the rate her patient was progressing, he’d be able to walk, with the aid of a cane, inside of a month.
His progress thus far was nothing sort of phenomenal. Nothing short of a miracle.

Tim was sitting up in bed, waiting for her.

“Morning,” she greeted him, setting her bag on the chair. His gaze followed her every move, the same way it had for weeks. It was all she could do not to ask him to stop watching her.

“Morning,” he returned, sounding downright chipper. “I gave Greg the night off,” he said, and waited as if he expected her to respond.

“So?”

“So, I thought I’d invite you over for dinner.” He jiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Who’s cooking?” she was foolish enough to ask.

“We both will be if everything goes the way I’m planning.”

“Tim, please.”

“That’s what you’ll be saying all right.”

Francine swore his grin stretched from ear to ear. “Is everything one big joke to you?” she demanded.

“No.” He reached out and caught her hand, bringing her closer to the edge of the mattress. “Come on, sweetheart, there’s no need to be shy about this. I’m crazy about you, and it’s apparent you feel the same way about me. Why pretend otherwise?”

Francine closed her eyes, unable to offer a suitable argument.

“I can understand you not wanting to fool around during work hours. I’ve tried to respect that the last couple of days, but I have to tell you, honey, it’s damn hard. Fact is, you may or may not have noticed, it’s a
big and hard
problem.”

“What about Cain?” She couldn’t believe she was seriously contemplating doing this.

“No problem. He’s been gone every evening as it is. If you want, I’ll ask him to stay away.”

A strained silence passed.

“This is highly unethical.”

“Irresponsible on both our parts,” Tim added softly.

“Foolish in the extreme.”

“Crazy.”

Francine smiled and whispered, “I bought lacy underwear the other day.”

Tim groaned. “Don’t tell me you have it on now.”

“I do.”

His eyes slammed closed, and his fingers tightened around hers. “Six o’clock. Salad, steak, and champagne,” he said.

“What’s for dessert?”

Tim grinned as if he were absolutely delighted she’d asked. “You and me, my love. You and me.”

“Have you got a minute?” Mallory asked Cain early that same afternoon. Cain was reading the morning paper at the kitchen table when his friend joined him.

“Sure.” He wasn’t scheduled to meet Linette until after six. He’d gotten two tickets to the symphony as a surprise, knowing how much she’d enjoy it. In a thousand lifetimes he never would have believed he’d willingly sit through a bunch of men and women in tuxedos playing musical instruments. He liked songs with words.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, too,” Cain said, setting aside the newspaper. He didn’t know what was
going on between Mallory and the therapist, but apparently it was more than met the eye.

“I need a small favor,” Mallory said, looking a bit sheepish.

“You’ve got it.”

“Would you mind staying away for the night?”

“Staying away?”

Tim heaved a deep sigh. “If you must know, I’m going to have company.”

“For the night?”

“For the whole night.”

Cain studied his friend carefully. “Is this someone I know?”

“Yeah,” Tim answered defensively. “It’s Francine.”

This was what Cain feared. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“I didn’t ask your opinion, McClellan. I don’t give a shit if it’s wise or not. She’s coming.”

“If it’s a woman you want, I can arrange—”

“There’s only one woman who interests me.” His words were packed with irritation.

After meeting Linette, Cain knew the feeling. He’d bumped heads with Mallory’s therapist once already, and he’d strongly suspected then a romance was brewing between the two. What he didn’t know was his friend’s feelings toward Francine.

“All right, you got it,” he said. “I’ll spend the night in a hotel.”

“I appreciate it.” Tim said, and then waited before asking, “You wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yeah.” Now, however, he wasn’t sure. “It has to do with Francine.”

“What about her?” Mallory’s whole posture was defensive, and Cain wished he’d chosen his time more carefully.

“I’m not going to give you advice, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I appreciate that.”

“But…”

Mallory grinned. “Somehow I thought there was going to be a ‘but’ in this.”

“I just want to warn you that a woman can really screw up your head.” He was one to talk! He’d been following Linette around like a calf after its mother from the moment he’d arrived in town.

“We’ve both seen it happen,” Mallory commented.

“You’re coming back to Deliverance Company?”

Mallory’s shoulders went back with surprise. “Of course.”

“You aren’t going to let some woman change your mind?”

“Hell, no.”

Cain relaxed and reached for the newspaper once more. “Good. You had me worried there.”

The calls didn’t always come in the middle of the night. No sooner had Cain finished speaking with Mallory than the phone rang. The crazy part was, Cain didn’t give a thought to the fact that he was being called back to work. The first thing that went through his head was that he wouldn’t be able to take Linette to the symphony after all.

An hour earlier he’d issued unwanted advice to
Mallory when he should have been saying it to himself. Linette had him twisted in such tight knots, within a matter of days he’d forgotten who he was.

Cain listened as Murphy outlined the details of the case. This time it was a cultural attaché being held political prisoner. In Central America. Jungle. Heat. Death.

When Cain finished with the call, he immediately dialed the airlines and scheduled his flight to Florida. The mission would be planned from there. Two of his men were flying in from other parts of the country. They’d rendezvous first thing in the morning and leave together from there.

But first, before he did anything more, Cain had to talk to Linette. He dreaded this moment more than anything he could remember in a long while. He dreaded it more than he had leaving her at Christmas.

Linette looked surprised when he arrived at Wild and Wooly, and her eyes brightened with pleasure. But something about him must have told her why he’d come, because he watched the happiness quickly drain away.

“You’re leaving?”

He nodded.

She said something to Bonnie and walked into the back room.

Cain followed her. He found her sitting, her back against the wall, her hands clasped in her lap. When she looked up, he noted that her eyes were bright.

Cain’s heart constricted as he knelt down in front of her and cupped her hands in both of his.

“Where?” she asked in a whisper.

“Central America.”

“What happened?”

“A man. A good man with a wife and family was taken hostage by a faction looking to pressure the government. He’s an American.”

“Then why don’t we send in the army or something?”

What she was really asking, Cain realized, was why he was the one who had to go.

“They can’t do that.”

“But why?” she pressed, and Cain realized she was trembling. She freed one hand and stroked the side of his face. “Why?” she repeated.

“It’s long and involved. The United States government doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. I’m not entirely sure I can answer the wheres and whys myself. All I know is that Deliverance Company has been contacted.”

She lowered her head. “Do you have to go?”

“Yes, Linette. This is what I do.”

“What about your broken ribs?”

“They’re healed enough.”

“But—”

He stopped her by gently pressing his finger against her lips. “I’m leaving. My flight takes off in less than two hours. I came because I wanted to tell you myself.” He kissed her bunched up fingers, wishing with everything inside him that he could calm her fears. “This is who I am. I’m good, baby, real good. Don’t worry, all right?”

“When will you be back?”

“I don’t know. Someday soon.”

“You won’t take any unnecessary chances, will you?”

“I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

“There isn’t any chance you’ll be killed, is there?”

Cain closed his eyes and wished he could lie to her. “I can’t make that promise.”

Her trembling increased. “I know,” she said.

Paul Curnyn was going to die
. Not once had he doubted the certainty of his fate. The only question that remained unanswered was how and when.

Bound and gagged, beaten and bloody, he steeled himself against the pain that throbbed through his back and legs. The sound of his own screams echoed in his ears.

He closed his eyes and felt tears burning for release. He silently damned his captors for reducing him to this level of weakness. He couldn’t deal with much more of the pain. Couldn’t keep from screaming. If they continued to torture him, he wouldn’t have the strength to keep from begging them to stop. He prayed his family would never know how much he’d suffered.

His family.

Paul’s mind focused on his wife, Delores, and his two children. Jennifer and Sean. He wished now he’d been a better husband and father. Wished now he’d cared less about making a name for himself at the State Department and more about his family. He prayed his children would remember him.

Paul tensed as one of his captors approached him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man remove his revolver from a leather holster and point it at Paul’s temple. The steel barrel felt cold and evil against his skin.

A flurry of Spanish erupted between the men. The one who held the gun shouted the loudest. The dialect was one Paul wasn’t fluent enough with to fully understand. What words he was able to translate sent chills of terror scooting down his spine.

Paul heard the gun hammer pull back and closed his eyes.

It would have been easier, Francine decided, if she and Tim hadn’t planned their lovemaking. It felt cold and calculating to know in advance what they were about to do. Worse to know why she was doing it. He hadn’t declared his love, only his need, but her reasons for coming weren’t any more sterling. If she satisfied him in bed, then maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t be so eager to leave her.

Francine swallowed tightly. She felt like an emotional wreck. Over the years she’d heard from her friends and read in a variety of accounts that the first time a woman made love could be painful. She didn’t fear the pain as
much as she worried about disappointing Tim with her complete lack of expertise. She must be some kind of idiot to think that she could hold a man with her sexual favors when she was a virgin.

By the time she stood outside the house, Francine’s stomach was queasy. She breathed deeply several times in an effort to calm her fractured nerves. Then she painted a bright smile on her face, opened the door, and walked inside, carrying her overnight bag with her.

“Anyone home?” she called out cheerfully.

“In here.”

Tim was waiting for her in the kitchen. One thing was sure, she was in no mood to eat anything. All she could think about was getting this ordeal over with as quickly as possible.

“Hi,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. She’d worn her hair down, the way he liked it, and wished now she hadn’t. It kept falling over her shoulder and getting in the way.

“So you decided to come after all.” He didn’t sound particularly delighted to see her.

“Yeah.”

“I hope you’re hungry. I sent Greg out for Chinese, and he brought back enough food to feed an army.”

“I…I don’t have much of an appetite yet.”

“Me either.”

Francine chanced her first look in his direction. Tim was sitting at the table with an atlas spread open. Apparently he’d developed a sudden interest in Central America.

“Greg’s gone?” she asking, glancing around.

“I told him to get lost for the night.”

Not exactly a delicate way to announce Tim was expecting company.

“That kid’s getting to be a real smart-ass. Seems he felt the need to lecture me about you.”

“He knows about us?” The question slipped out before she could censor it.

Tim’s laughter lacked any real amusement. “Cain figured it out, too. I haven’t exactly had much of a social life lately. You’re the only woman who’s been around in the last year and a half. Neither man is blind or stupid.”

“I suppose it only makes sense they’d know.”

“Were you planning on hiding it from them?”

“No.” But by the same token she wasn’t exactly planning on holding a symposium on their relationship, either. “What did Greg have to say?”

“That you were a fool for getting involved with me.”

“He should have told me that, not you.” Although to be fair, he had warned her.

Tim muttered something under his breath and then said, “I suspect Greg’s half in love with you himself.”

“Greg?” Francine didn’t believe it for a moment.

“So you’re not hungry?”

“No.”

“Me either,” he confessed. He closed the atlas, but Francine noticed the way his gaze lingered over the volume cover.

They sat in silence, and it seemed neither one of them knew what to say next.

“I suppose we should get at it, then.”

Get at it certainly didn’t leave a lot of room for romance.

“I suppose we should,” she answered, stiffening. Tim wasn’t teasing her the way he had before, taking delight in making her blush. Nor did he appear to be overly eager to make love when the suggestion had dominated every word and action for weeks.

“Why don’t you go in the bedroom and get undressed,” he suggested.

Francine expanded her lungs with a giant breath. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Not a good idea?” His eyes shot to hers. “Why not?”

“This isn’t working,” she whispered, more to herself than to Tim, amazed that she’d managed to come this far.

Tim leaned back on his chair and studied the ceiling tile. “All right,” he said, and released his breath forcefully. “I apologize. My mind’s been on other things. Cain’s gone.”

Francine didn’t understand. “It was my understanding that you were going to ask him to leave.”

“I mean gone as in he’s been called away on a mission,” he explained.

“A mission.” It made perfect sense to Francine now. Tim longed to be with his friend on some field of death rather than stuck in San Francisco with her. If she’d ever needed a reminder that he would dally with her, use her, and then callously leave her, she had it now.

Tim glanced at his watch. “He’ll land in Florida in a couple of hours. Murphy’s there, and Jack and Bailey are flying in this evening. My guess is they’ll land in Tehuantepec by tomorrow afternoon.”

Francine had never heard of the place, but if the atlas
was any indication, it was situated somewhere in Central America.

“Timing is everything in these cases. For all we know, that poor bastard could already be dead.” Agitated, Tim flexed and unflexed his hands.

Francine scooted back the seat, stood, and reached for her bag.

Tim looked over at her. “Where are you going?”

“Home.”

He frowned. “Why? Listen, I know our night hasn’t gotten off to a good start, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun together.”

Francine held up her hand while she waited for her thoughts to sort themselves out. “On second thought, I don’t think our making love is such a good idea after all.”

Tim reached for his walker and pulled himself upright. “What do you mean?” he asked. His eyes were grave and dark. Disappointed.

“I meant exactly what I said. You’re looking for a good-time girl. Someone to take your mind off your boredom for the next couple of weeks before you head back to your friends.”

Tim’s frown darkened to a glower. “What you’re really saying is you’ve changed your mind.”

Francine wasn’t going to argue the point with him. “Yes.”

“Come on, sweetheart, we got off to a bad start, but that doesn’t mean we have to call the whole thing off. You want me as much as I want you.”

He brought up another point she couldn’t argue. “The only thing you have to offer me is a few weeks of casual
sex. I thought that would be enough, but I see now that it isn’t. I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I need more than you’re willing to offer.”

He closed his eyes as if calling upon a nameless god for patience. “What’s wrong? Do you need me to pretty it up with a few flowery words? Fine. I can do that. You’ll get what you need, and I’ll get what I need. It isn’t such a bad deal.”

“I’d be a fool to turn you down.”

He smiled for the first time. “Exactly.”

“No thanks.” She felt considerably foolish. It might have worked if he hadn’t been drooling over some atlas. It was a vivid reminder of exactly who and what he was. A vivid reminder of what she was willing to become.

“No thanks,” he repeated sarcastically. “Listen, sweetheart, you’ve apparently got some hair up your butt about sex all of a sudden. It’s a perfectly natural human function. There’s no need to mess it up with a bunch of other emotions. I’ve always called a spade a spade and admired you for doing the same. Don’t disappoint me now.”

“I don’t want you to leave,” she said in a rush. “You don’t need to be a soldier. You could do anything, be anything at all. You don’t have to—”

“So that’s it,” Tim said, his face tightening with irritation. “You seem to think you can use that body of yours for leverage to wrap me around your little finger. I got news for you. It ain’t going to work. Go ahead and walk out that door,” he challenged, and pointed the way out to her.

Francine’s hand tightened around the handle of the overnight bag before she turned away from him.

“But before you leave, you’d best think about the real reasons you’re going.”

“I don’t need you to tell me why,” she snapped.

“That’s not the way I see it. You’re backing down because you’re chicken. You’re afraid, so own up to it. Because this bull about me insulting you is a crock of shit.”

“All right,” she said, turning back to face him. “You hit the nail on the head. I’m afraid.” And she was. She was scared spitless that she was giving her heart to a man who would love her one night and forget her name the next. Afraid he would forever mark her life and then calmly walk out of it.

“There’s no need to be afraid.” His words were soft and full of inducement. “Let me love you, Francine. Let me show you what it can be like between us. If you still want to leave afterward, then fine, you can go. Just don’t walk out now. We’ve only just begun, sweetheart.”

Francine battled back a flood of tears.

“Come on,” he coaxed once more. “Let’s sit down and have dinner. That’s all I’m asking. It’s a shame for all this food to go to waste.” He gestured to the table behind him. “We’ve come this far. Let’s not turn back now.”

Francine wavered. Dear sweet heaven, what was the matter with her? Never once in all her life had she thought of herself as weak. Tim made her that way, and she hated it. She’d suffer more than a few regrets if she gave in to him now. On the other hand, she’d be left wondering the rest of her life what it would have been like with him. God help her, she loved him.

Francine walked over to him and stood in front of the walker. She crouched down and set her small suitcase on the floor, then wrapped her arms around Tim’s torso. His eyes brightened with anticipation as she kissed him.

His mouth opened to hers, taking advantage of her generosity. With his one free hand, he wove his fingers into her hair and kissed her with a hunger and need that left her clinging and weak in the knees.

“This is more like it,” he said, and brought her lips back to his. He kissed her twice more, each kiss more potent than the previous one. They were both left trembling with desire.

“You’ve got far too many clothes on,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper. “Now go to my room, strip, and wait for me. We’ve got all night for me to appease those fears. But you never know, it might take longer.” He released her slowly, as if it demanded every ounce of will he possessed to do so. “I only hope one case of condoms is enough.”

Francine stepped back, took a moment to catch her breath, and then pressed her hand to his cheek. “Good-bye, Tim Mallory, and thank you.”

His eyes widened as if she’d slapped him. “Good-bye?”

She reached for her bag and literally ran for the door. She feared if he said one word more, she wouldn’t have the strength to leave him. And leave him she must, for her own peace of mind.

Two days later Greg phoned Francine at home.

“Hello, Greg,” she said, immediately regretting not contacting him herself. She owed Greg more than the brief letter of resignation she’d had delivered to the house.

“How are you?”

“Great.” A lie, but the truth would only depress him.

“The beastmaster got your letter.”

“I should have stopped in and said good-bye to you. I’m sorry, Greg.”

“No problem. Listen, this isn’t any of my business, but I want to make sure that Mr. Mallory…I want to be sure he didn’t hurt you.”

Francine braced her forehead against the kitchen wall. “Of course not, what makes you ask that?”

Greg hesitated. “No reason. It’s just that…well, never mind. It isn’t important. He’s gone, you know.”

“Tim’s left San Francisco?” She straightened in shock.

“Yeah, he had me book the first available flight to Miami as soon as he read your letter.”

“I see.”

“I hope that list of instructions you gave him wasn’t important. He crushed it up into a ball and threw it across the room.”

“He’ll be fine,” Francine assured Tim’s assistant. She would be, too, in time.

“I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed this last month,” Charles Garner told Linette. He’d unexpectedly stopped off at the shop and stayed until closing time.

He was a striking-looking man, Linette thought, kind and good-natured. But he didn’t make her heart zing the way Cain did. She didn’t spend time with him and then wonder how long it would be before she saw him again. But none of that mattered, she reminded herself.

Linette had made the painful decision not to see Cain again. He’d been in Central America five weeks now. These silent days without him had been some of the most agonizing of her life.

It would have helped if he’d contacted her in some way. She hadn’t heard so much as a word from him. Not even a postcard. For all she knew, he could be dead. Each day of not knowing was hell. The fears ate her alive. The interminable waiting. Was he hurt? Dying? Had he forgotten her completely?