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THEY LAY IN BED in a hotel in the middle of Washington, D.C., pleasantly tired. They had made love as soon as the door was locked behind them, falling on the bed and removing only the necessary clothing. But that had been hours before, and now they were completely nude, slipping gradually into sleep.
Grant’s hand moved up and down her back in a lazy pattern. “Just how involved were you in Persall’s activities?”
“Not very,” she murmured. “Oh, I knew about them. I had to know, so I could cover for him if I had to. And he sometimes used me as a courier, but not very often. Still, he talked to me a lot, telling me things. He was a strange, lonely man.”
“Was he your lover?”
She lifted her head from his chest, surprised. “George? Of course not!”
“Why ‘of course not’? He was a man, wasn’t he? And he was in your bedroom when he died.”
She paused. “George had a problem, a medical one. He wasn’t capable of being anyone’s lover.”
“So that part of the report was wrong, too.”
“Deliberately. He used me as a sort of shield.”
He put his hand in her hair and held her for his kiss. “I’m glad. He was too old for you.”
Jane watched him with wise, dark eyes. “Even if he hadn’t been, I wasn’t interested. You might as well know, you’re the only lover I’ve ever had. Until I met you, I’d never…wanted anyone.”
“And when you met me…?” he murmured.
“I wanted.” She lowered her head and kissed him, wrapping her arms around him, slithering her body over his until she felt his hardening response.
“I wanted, too,” he said, his words a mere breath over her skin.
“I love you.” The words were a cry of pain, launched by desperation, because she knew this was definitely the last time unless she took the chance. “Will you marry me?”
“Jane, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Tell you that I love you? Or ask you to marry me?” She sat up, moving her legs astride him, and shook her dark hair back behind her shoulders.
“We can’t live together,” he explained, his eyes turning dark gold. “I can’t give you what you need, and you’d be miserable.”
“I’ll be miserable anyway,” she said reasonably, striving for a light tone. “I’d rather be miserable with you than miserable without you.”
“I’m a loner. Marriage is a partnership, and I’d rather go it alone. Face it, honey. We’re good together in bed, but that’s all there is.”
“Maybe for you. I love you.” Despite herself, she couldn’t keep the echo of pain out of her voice.
“Do you? We were under a lot of stress. It’s human nature to turn to each other. I’d have been surprised if we hadn’t made love.”
“Please, spare me your combat psychology! I’m not a child, or stupid! I know when I love someone, and damn it, I love you! You don’t have to like it, but don’t try to talk me out of it!”
“All right.” He lay on his back, looking up into her angry eyes. “Do you want me to get another room?”
“No. This is our last night together, and we’re going to spend it together.”
“Even if we’re fighting?”
“Why not?” she dared.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said, lunging up and twisting. Jane found herself on her back, blinking up at him in astonishment. Slowly he entered her, pushing her legs high. She closed her eyes, excitement spiraling through her. He was right; the time was far better spent making love.
She didn’t try again to convince him that they had a future together. She knew from experience just how hardheaded he was; he’d have to figure it out for himself. So she spent her time loving him, trying to make certain that he never forgot her, that no other woman could begin to give him the pleasure that she did. This would be her goodbye.
