serious Risks
by
RACHEL LEE


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serious Risks

RACHEL LEE

' ILHOUFTTE

DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?

If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was
reported unsold and destroyed by a retailer.  Neither the author nor
the publisher has received any payment for this book,

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the
imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names.  They are not even distantly inspired
by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents
are pure invention.

All Rights Reserved including ~he right of reproduction in whole or in
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Silhouette, Silhouette Sensation and Colophon are registered trademarks
of Harlequin Books S. A. " used urMer licence.

First published in Great Britain 1996

Silhouette Books, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey

TW9 1SR

Susan Civil 1991

ISBN 0 373 07394 1

18-9611

Printed and bound in Great Britain by Mackays of Chatham PLC, Chatham

For

Markey--who believed

Gil who is my hero

Bobswho shored me up when I got scared Aaron--who is my biggest fan

Heather--who shares my.  excitement

And

All the men and women who perform the thankless task of protecting the
nation's security.

I feel privileged to have worked with you.

Other novels by Rachel Lee Silhouette Sensation

Defying Gravity

Exile's End

Cherokee Thunder

Miss Emmaline and the Archangel

Iron heart

Lost Warriors

Point of No Return

*A Question of Justice

An Officer and a Gentleman

Under Blue Wyoming Skies series

 A Note from the Author:

As the Assistant Facility Security Officer for a defence contractor, I
was responsible for the protection of a great deal of classified
information, and I often wondered what would happen if I or one of my
colleagues ever discovered evidence of espionage.  The FBI answered
that question for me at one of the Counter-intelligence Awareness
Seminars they give to defence contactors around the country.

If circumstances warrant, the FBI will ask civilians to act as double
agents.  Although that sounds dangerous and brings to mind all kinds of
frightening images, the fact is, being a double agent for the FBI isn't
dangerous.  As the agent leading our seminar said, "Up until now, no
American on American soil has ever been harmed by a foreign
intelligence operation ."

How disappointing!  But the phrase "up until now" is where my
imagination took off, and where this book began.

Chapter I

~ c Somebody stole a classified document from my safe last night.  "

The breathless, nervous claim over the telephone brought

Special Agent Arlen Coulter upright in his chair and banished every
other thought from his head.  A perfectly routine afternoon of
reviewing case reports from his agents lost the last vestige of
ordinariness.  Swiftly reaching across his desk, he pulled over a legal
pad and a pen.

"What's your name?"  he asked the woman.  "And where are you calling
from?"

"My name is Jessica Kilmer, and I'm ca!  ling from a pay phone on the
interstate."

"Give me the number in case we get disconnected."  He made her recite
it twice to be sure he got it right.  In the background he could hear
the whiz and roar of the late-afternoon traffic.  "Okay, Ms.  Kilmer,"
he said.  "Tell me about it."

There was a shuddery breath from the other end of the phone.  "I work
for MTI--Military T~hnologies, Inc.  We do a lot of defense work."

"I'm familiar with MTI," Arlen said.  Indeed he was.  MTI ranked as the
area second-largest defense contractor.  "Go on, ma'am."

"Someone took a classified document from my safe during the night," she
repeated unsteadily, as if she couldn't quite believe her own words.
"I'm the only one who has the combination, except for the copy that
security keeps in their vault."

Aden leaned forward tensely.  Possibilities were already flitting
through his head, not the least of them that this was a crank call.  In
the past he had worked in counterintelligence in the Washington, D. C.
" area, so he knew just how common espionage was.  Nevertheless, this
was the first hint of it that he had gotten during his entire six years
in Austin, Texas.  Still, the woman knew things that only someone
engaged in classified work would know, such as the fact that security
would have the only other combination to a classified safe.  " You're
sure the document is missing?  "

"Oh, yes."  She expelled the words on another unsteady breath.  "I went
through every folder in the safe, in case it was misfiled."

"It couldn't have been left out by accident?"  Aden kept his voice
calm, non accusatory Once a witness was put on the defensive, you could
forget any hope of getting a straight story.

"No: I haven't had it out of the safe in several weeks.  It was there
last night when I filed the document that comes just before it.  I know
it was there!"

The rising tone of her voice conveyed her frustration and concern as no
words could have.  Arlen felt a small twinge of sympathy for her, but
he put it firmly aside.  He couldn't afford to allow his mind or his
judgment to be clouded by sympathy.

"I believe you, Ms.  Kilmer," he said soothingly.  "Have you told
anyone else about the theft?"

"I reported it to security," she answered, and now her tone was
indignant.  "They're insisting I must have mislaid it or misfiled it or
loaned it to 'someone, because I'm the only one with the combination to
the safe.  That's the whole point, and they're missing it.  That's why
I'm calling you

The point is, someone opened that safe last night.  Son one e/se has
the combination!  "

Arlen didn't need to have the ramifications of that sta.  meat spelled
out.  If someone else had the combinatio there was no telling how often
that person had gained ~ cess to Jessica Kilmer's safe.  There was no
way to kn< how many other safes at MTI this supposed spy might h~
combinations for, or how often ho might have invad, them.  Or how many
classified documents he might ha stolen, photographed, copied--the list
of potential.  abra was catastrophic.

Arlen addressed Jessica Kilmer.  "Are you going back work?"

She gave a shaky, mirthless laugh.  "Hardly.  By the th they got
through grilling me and insinuating that I have 1~ I0 of an insect, I
had a splitting headache.  I'm goi home."  '

"Just a few more questions, Ms.  Kilmer, if you're up it?"

"Yes, of course,"

"Does anyone know you're calling the FBI?  The see ri~, people at your
company~ perhaps?"  .  ~ .  No, no one knows.  Jessica ga'lmer sighed
l~eavily.  t~w over the.  phone her weariness and frustration were aptn
ent to Arlen.  '"The security people aren't.  planm."  ng t. o. ~
anyone about this just yet.  They're evidently conwnced ~ the report
will show up and that they'll be able to expla the whole thing in some
fashion that won't reflect badly ~ them or the company.  "

"And you don't believe that."

"How can I?  I know that document was there whet locked my safe last
night, and I know it was gone when we opened it this morning.  There's
no way that can be ~ plained as carelessness or an accident."

No, indeed, Aden thought~"H,e glanced at his watch a!  noted that it
was nearly five.  Ms.  Kilmer, we neea to a~ cuss this in more detail.
Can we get together somewhere ~ evening, say a restaurant?"

There was a brief, hesitant silence.  "Wouldn't it be mo convenient for
you if I came to your office?"

Arlen couldn't suppress a smile, and he was sure she must be able to
hear it in his voice.  "There's no question it would be more
convenient, Ms.  Kilmer, but until we get some idea of the size of this
mess and who might be involved, I don't want anyone to know you've
contacted the Bureau.  Our offices are in the busiest part of downtown,
and there's always the unwelcome possibility that someone who knows you
might see you come in here."

"Meeting at a restaurant just seems a little irregular, I guess?"

He understood her trepidation and tried to tease her out of it.
"Believe me, Ms.  Kilmer, I've questioned people in places that are a
lot more irregular than any restaurant could ever be."

There was another very brief silence, and then Jessica Kilmex laughed,
a genuinely amused sound.  When he heard that, Arlen knew he'd taken
the first step to establishing a rapport with the lady, a rapport that
would be absolutely essential if it should turn out that they had to
work together.  And if she was right about this document, they would
unquestionably wind up spending a lot of time together,

"Actually, ma'am, we're not so veay different from your local police
force.  When you call to report something, we generally visit you to
get the information.  It would be just as easy for me to come to your
home, if that would be more convenient for you.  My only requirement is
that we meet in a place where I can question you without interruption. 
It's very important that you don't get distracted and forget to tell me
something."

"All right, all right," Jessica said with a laugh, "Let me give you my
address."  She rattled off a street and number, then added, "I just
moved in a couple of weeks ago, so I'm still neck-deep in packing
boxes."

"Don't worry about it," he said.  "I'll never notice."

"What time should I expect you?"

"Say around seven, if that's okay by you."

"That's just fine."

"And, Ms.  Kilmer?  Don't tell anyone at all that you called the FBI. I
realize that sounds cloak-and,daggerish,

but secrecy is essential.  You wouldn't want word of this conversation
to get back to the wrong person.  "

How could she possibly tell anyone what she couldn't quite believe
herself?  Jessica wondered as she climbed back into her car.  She'd
actually called the FBI!  Her stomach, which had been sinking all day
anyway, sank further at the significance of that realization.  "She
forced herself to ignore the sensation, just as she had all day long.
Other than dread and worry, the only other feeling she'd had today h,
ad been indignation.

And frustration.  She had always believed the facility security officer
to be a reasonably intelligent man, but now she seriously wondered. Was
she the only person with the wit to understand the gravity of what
she'd been saying all day: that someone else had the combination to her
safe?

Mr.  Coulter had apparently understood, she reminded herself, and felt
reassured that her decision to call the FBI was correct.  Correct?  Of
course it was correct!  The company's own Security Practice Procedures
Manual said that the FBI should be informed if espionage was suspected,
preferably from a pay phone off-site so there was no chance of being
overheard.  And Jessica most definitely suspected espionage.

By the time she arrived at home, however, she was remembering the
suspicion with which her every statement had been heard by the security
officer.  Barron obviously thought Jessica was making everything up to
conceal her own negligence.  What if Coulter suspected the same
thing?

Usually when Jessica stepped into the antique elegance of her two-story
Xr~ctorian house she experienced the pride of her new ownership, the
thrill of at last having a real home of her own.  Tonight, however, all
she felt was the weight of the mortgage, reminding her that she
couldn't afford job trouble.  Not now.  Not as long as she owed that
payment every month.  Not as long as most of her hard-earned savings,
accumulated by scrimping for five long years, were tied up in the
house.

What if Barron managed to hang the missing document on her?

As seven o'clock drew closer, Jessica grew edgier.  She'd never been
questioned by the FBI before--or any policeman, for that matter--and
she found herself wondering why she hadn't just let MTI security handle
it.  They couldn't prove she had taken the document, no matter how much
they might want to believe it, What if this FBI agent wanted to believe
~he same thing?  What if he thought her call to him was all a smoke
screen?

What if he got rough?

~"Oh, for heaven's sake, Jessica!"  she said disgustedly to her
reflection in the bathroom mirror as.  she finished brushing her teeth.
"He's an FBI agent!  They don't get rough except with criminals."  And
spies?

"I am not a spy!"

She knew it, and so did the small, pale face staring back at her from
the mirror.  Pushing her eyeglasses up her nose, Jessica gazed into her
own wide, worried brown eyes and thought she looked exactly, exactly,
like a small brown mouse pinned by an eagle's eye.

A few strands of dark hair had escaped from the con-fines of her
chignon, and she smoothed them back into place.  Outwardly, at least,
there was no nonsense about Jessica Kiltnet.  She might have the
world's most inventive,

overactive imagination, but no one would ever guess it by looking at
her.  ~ ~

On the other hand, she thought with a sigh, she wasn,t quite passing as
her usual businesslike self, not with worry stumped all over her face.
"Mouse" was the kindest description she could give herself.

The front doorbell sounded, and Jessiea's stomach plunged instantly in
response.  Oh, God, the FBI is here A real; honest-to-gosh FBI agent,

"Cut it out," she told her reflection with more conviction than she
really felt.  "He puts his pants on one leg at a time, just like
anybody else."

She headed downstairs, drew a deep breath, expelled it -and opened the
door.

And looked into the grayest eyes she'd ever seen.  Not the pallid color
that might be blue or green depending on the light, but gray like
flannel, and fringed in thick, dark lashes.  His hair was a rich, very
dark brown, threade~l with silver, and a little longer than she'd
expected.  Evidently FBI agents didn't have to wear military-style
haircuts anymore.

He was tall, over six feet to her five foot two, broad shouldered,
narrow hipped.  Elegant looking, especially in a gray suit, white shirt
and dark tie.  He wasn't, thank goodness, handsome.  Handsome would
have been too much to handle.  No, he was simply attractive.  His face
was at best pleasant, regular featured.

But nothing in her life prepared her for this man's total impact.  The
term sex appeal took on a whole new meaning for her in that instant, an
understanding that might have frightened her except that there was
nothing wolfish in his expression or posture.  In fact, he was giving
her a very pleasant smile and holding out his hand.

"Ms.  Kilmer?  I'm Arlen Coulter."

Jessica felt her hand swallowed in his firm} warm grip and heard
herself say something courteous in response, and tried not to notice
the very acute and observant way his gaze measured her.

Arlen recognized her nervousness, but it hardly surprised him.  Most
people were nervous at the prospect of dealing with the FBI.  He saw
past the nervousness, though, past the no-nonsense hairstyle and the
high-collared white blouse and neatly pressed gray slacks.  Behind the
armor there was waif like vulnerability.  It peeped uncertainly out at
him from the depths of astonishingly bright brown eyes, and, to him at
least, it would have been much less obvious had she not gone to such
great lengths to hide it.

"A pleasure, Ms.  Kiimer," he said, releasing her hand.  In order to
seem less threatening, he plunged his hands into the front pockets of
his slacks and waited for her invitation to enter.  She continued to
look uncertainly UP at him, and then color rose from the neck of her
blouse to meet the roots of her hair.  Where did that blush start?  he
wondered, and felt an unexpected stirring of his body.

Jessica licked her dry lips, unaware that the small, nervous gesture
had an electric effect on the tall man who stood so casually before her
in a conservative gray suit.  "I,

um I, don't mean to be offensive, but can I see your badge, or
whatever?  "

Arlen's smile broadened a shade, and he reached into the inside breast
pocket of his suit jacket.  Handing her the slim leather wallet, he
said, "I'm not offended.  The whole reason I have ID is so people can
ask to see it.  All you've done is show me you're not gullible, Ms.
Kilmer."

Jessica, who wouldn't have recognized a valid FBI iden-tit}, card or
badge if it had stood up and bitten her, stared at the contents of the
wallet and registered the words/trlen ~. Coulter, Special Agent,
Federal Bureau of Investigation Her blush deepening, she passed the
wallet back.

"Please come in, Mr.  Coulter.  Or do I call you Agent Coulter?"

"If you insist," he said with a smile as he followed her through the
gleaming entry hall and into a living room where packing boxes still
occupied quite a bit of space.  "I'd prefer it if you'd just call me
Arlen.  We're probably going to be seeing quite a bit of one
another."

Jessica smiled shyly as she.  offered him a seat.  "You can call me
Jessica.  Would you like some coffee?"

"Not just now, thanks.  Maybe later."

Jessica settled onto the couch, facing the armchair where she'd seated
Arlen, and watched as he pulled a pad and pen out of his breast pocket.
He had blunt-fingered, large hands, competent, capable-looking hands.
Their movements were calm, controlled.  As was he, she realized.
Everything about him was controlled, even his smile.

"I'll probably need to get an official statement from you later, but
for the moment, why don't we just go over what happened?"  He offered
what he hoped was a reassuring .  smile.  "The questions may get a
little repetitious, but I need to be sure you aren't inadvertently
overlooking something.  All right?"

Jessica nodded and clasped her hands tightly, wondering why the living
room suddenly seemed small.  She'd considered it a pleasantly large
room until Arlen Coulter entered it, but he seemed to fill it
completely.

And there was a wedding ring on his left hand.  She noticed the gold
band with an unexpected stab of disappointment and wondered why it
should matter.

Arlen spoke.  "Jessica, why don't you tell me a little bit about your
job and the kind of classified information you work with."

"I'm a programmer," she explained.  "I work on software for
Department,of Defense applications.  Right now I'm designing a package
that's intended to be able to pick out planes and incoming missiles
from all the electronic countermeasures that are available to confuse
radar."  Arlen was impressed.  "Can it?"

"It's too soon to tell yet, but in theory it should work."

"How long have you been working on defense applications?"

"Six years."

In answer to his prompting, she described some of the other programs
she'd worked o~ over the years.  Listening to her, watching her, Arlen
realized a couple of things.  This lady was very bright, and she loved
her work.  As she spoke, she grew animated, using her hands and
smiling, and her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm.  At this new glimpse of
the woman behind the upright, severe facade, Arlen wondered what had
happened to her to make her want to hide her vitality.  Not that it
mattered, he reminded himself.  He was here as an agent to do a job,
not to wonder about a woman who was young enough to be his daughter.

Eventually he brought her back to the events of the past day.  Her
animation faded, to be replaced by the nervous worry he'd seen when he
first arrived.

"At the end of the day," "Jessica explained, " I lock up everything I
work with--my files, my hard drive from the computer, any paper I've
scribbled on or written on.  I don't bother sorting at night, because
I'm tired and might make a mistake.  In the morning I'll decide which
stuff needs to be burned, but in the evening I just lump it all into an
envelope and file it in my safe.  "

"What kind of safe do you have?"

"It's a GSA-approved four-drawer cabinet."  All safes used for the
storage of classified information had to be ap proved by the General
Services Administration, or GSA, an indication that the safe met
certain standards.

Arlen nodded.  "What level material do you keep in it?"

"Just Secret and Confidential.  If I need to use Top Secret or
special-access information, like Secret Compartmented Information, I
check them out of the vault downstairs and return them at the end of
the day."

"And last night you followed your usual procedure,"

Jessica nodded, clasping her hands together so tightly that Aden saw
her knuckles turn white.  "Why don't you run through it again for me?
Just so I can be sure I have it right."

Jessica nodded again.  "I take my hard disk out'"

"Just a second," Arlen interrupted.  "You take your computer apart
every night?"

Jessica shook her head.  "I have an external, removable hard disk. It's
designed for this kind of thing.  I can take it off my system in just a
minute, and I always store it in the top drawer of my safe, unless for
some reason there's material of a higher classification on it.  Then I
take it to the vault."

"Okay.  You put your hard disk in the top drawer.  Then what?"

"Then I pick up any documents I've pulled, and I file them in their
proper folders in the other drawers.  When that's done, I pick up
whatever scraps of paper there are that I've scribbled on, doodled on
or whatever, put them in a manila envelope and file them in the
suspense folder I keep at the front of the second drawer."  Seeing the
question form on his lips, she hastened to'explain.  "The suspense file
just means the stuff in it is suspended, set aside to deal with
later."

He nodded.  "And that's how you know the missing document was there
last night?"

"That's right."  Realizing suddenly that her fingers were aching from
the tight way she had folded her hands, Jessica unlaced them and
wiggled them to relax them.  "I always put the suspense file right in
front of it."  Arlen watched her wiggle her fingers, pursing his lips
thoughtfully.  "And you're sure it was there?"

Jessica's eyes snapped to his face.  "Yes."  She said it with
conviction.

Arlen's gray eyes lifted from her hands to her eyes, and they no longer
held any of the warmth and friendliness she'd seen in them earlier.  "I
have to ask these questions, Jessica.  They're not intended to be
offensive.  How is it you're sure the document was there?  Usually when
we do things in certain Ways they become so habitual that we don't
really notice.  Did you really see that document last night, or do you
just think you saw it?"

Her hands knotted into fists on her lap.  "I saw it," she said flatly.
"The folder it was in is red, and the three folders behind it are blue.
If that folder was gone, I'd have no-tic6d it instantly, the way I
noticed it was missing this morning."

Arlen nodded and wrote in his notebook.  "Okay," he said pleasantly. "I
believe you.  The folder was there last night.  You filed the suspense
file in front of it?"

"And then?"

"I closed the drawer and locked the safe."

"How did you lock the safe?"

Jessica sighed.  "I turned the dial four full rotations and tested the
lever.  It was locked."

"And it was still locked when you came to work this morning?"

Jessica opened her mouth to respond, and then hesitated, her brown eyes
widening.  "I don't know, " she said after a moment.  "I always turn
the dial four times before I start to work the combination.  And I
never try the lever before I enter the combination."

"So it could have been closed but unlocked this morning."

She nodded.  "But I don't see"

"Don't you find it odd that the entire folder was missing?"  Arlen
asked her.

Jessica's reply was tart.  "To tell you the truth, I haven't been
allowed any time today to think about anything, least of all whether
what happened was odd.  Of course it was odd.  " It was odd that
anything disappeared overnight.  I still don't see.  "

"Well, if you were going to steal classified information, would you
leave such an obvious footprint?  Wouldn't it make more sense to
photograph the document and put it back?  Or photocopy it and replace
it?"

"Well, yes, of course," Jessica agreed.  "But if you didn't have time"
-Her eyes widened.  "Oh.)" she said on a breath.  "Oh.)"

"Exactly."  Aden smiled faintly.  "Did you come to work early this
morning, by any chance?"

The expression on her face answered the question even before she spoke.
"I was ahalf hour early because I wanted to check out something I
thought of last night."

Arlen spread his hands, as if to say, "See?  Could I take you up on
that coffee now, Jessica?"

"Yes, of course."  She went to the kitchen to get it, impressed with
how quickly Arlen Coulter had picked up on something she'd entirely
missed, something even the security officer, Dave Barron, had entirely
missed, in spite of all the questioning she'd endured today.  She was
also uncomfortably impressed with a few other things, like how good
Arlen Coulter looked.  Few men her own age and younger looked half as
good as Arlen did, and he must be somewhere over forty.  He also mBde
her un comfortably aware of him.  And of hers81f.  She was most
definitely not accustomed to such feelings, and she sup posed she
should be grateful that he was a married man and therefore could be no
more than a passing and temporary ripple in her tranquility.  She would
get used to how good he looked, and that would be that.

An expression of determination on her face, she marched back into the
living room with a tray bearing two cups of coffee, the sugar bowl and
creamer.  Setting the tray on the cherry coffee table between them, she
asked, "Cream or sugar?"  '

"Black, thank you."  Arlen looked at the dainty china cups and saucers
with their delicate pattern of roses and wondered when was the last
time he had seen anyone serve coffee in anything but a mug.  Aunt
Celeste, he rem em he red His wife's great-aunt had always served
coffee in bone china teacups.  It wasn't until Andrew was born that
Celeste had astonished Aden one day by handing him a large mug with his
name painted on ii~ side.  "You've accommodated to our family customs a
great deal, my boy," she'd said in her stentorian voice, "and I thought
it was high time we accommodated to one of yours."  Until she died at
the age of ninety, Celeste had made sure that Ar-len's coffee was
always served in a mug whenever he visited any of his wife's relatives.
Damn, he still missed the warm, wonderful, tough old lady.

"These are lovely cups," he said now to Jessica, compelled by his
memory of the elderly woman.  Celeste had taught him whatever
drawing-room manners he could claim, and Lord knew there were few
enough.

Jessica smiled with pleasure.  "Thank you.  I found them in an antique
shop a few months ago.  The entire set; in fact, without a chip or a
missing piece."  They'd cost dearly, but they were an essential part of
the home she was trying to create.

"They remind me of some dishes my wife's aunt used to have," Arlen
remarked.  "I've been terrified of breaking the dam things ever since
the first time I ate dinner at Aunt Celeste's."  He gave Jessica a
rueful smile.  "She was a wonderful old lady, but her blasted dishes
have haunted my entire adult life.  They must be a hundred years old,
and every time they get passed on to a new generation, they just take
on more sentimental value.  Aunt Celeste got them as a wedding gift
from her husband.  Then, when she passed on, they went to my wife, and
now my daughter has them."

His daughter had them?  Jessica felt she had missed something
somewhere.  "Your daughter has them?"  she repeated questioningly.

Arlen looked up from the cup, his gray eyes unfocused.

"I'm afraid my wife is gone."

"Gone?"

Jessica's eyes strayed to his ring, and Arlen followed the direction of
her gaze.

"I haven't been able to bring myself to take it off," he admitted. "She
died over three years ago."

Jessica hardly knew how to respond to that.  "I'm sorry," she said
hesitantly.

Arlen shook his head, giving her another rueful smile.  "My fault for
wearing the ring."  Lifting one of the deli, cate cupsi he took a sip
of coffee.  "The coffee is delicious, Jessica."

"Thank you."  A widower who still wore his wedding ring after three
years was as safe as a married man, she figured~ Maybe safer.  And
probably a whole lot safer when he was an FBI agent.

"Okay."  Arlen picked up his pad again End made a quick note.  "Let's
get back to othis morning, Jessica.  What exactly did you do when you
arrived at MTI?  Start in the parking lot."

So she took him step-by-step through a day that had grown more
frustrating with each passing minute.  From the parking lot she had
entered the building through the main entrance.  Most mornings security
waved her through on sight, because the day shift recognized her well
after six years.  This morning, however, she'd arrived before the shift
change and had had to stop to display her identification.  had been a
small, routine matter, and she had taken opportunity to clip her badge
on her collar, where it would have to stay the rest of the day
anyhow.

The empty elevator had carried her up to the second floor corridor, and
a brief walk had brought her to the locked door of the controlled area
that held her office, along with a dozen others.  There she had keyed
in her code on the alphanumeric keypad beside the door, and the door
had tm-locked for her.

Once in her office, she had opened her safe to remove the items she
needed' for work: first the hard disk, which she installed in the drive
case attached to the side of her computer.  Then she had pulled out the
second drawer of the safe, and it was as she was removing the suspense
envelope that she noted the conspicuous absence of the red folder that
contained a Secret NATO document.

Her first thought, of course, was that she was mistaken, that somehow
the hanging file folder had come off the tracks and slipped 'down
between the other folders to the bottom of the drawer.  Item by item
she had examined the contents of the drawer, checking every red folder
twice, finally examining each and every one of the blue folders and
their Confidential documents, as well.

"And that's when you called security?"  Arlen asked.  "No."  Jessica
flushed faintly.  "I decided I must have been mistaken about where the
folder was last night.  So I looked through the bottom drawers, too.
Document by document.  That's when I called security."

Arlen's pen made faint noises as it moved.  quickly across a fresh page
in his notebook.  "You said you were sure the documents was there last
night."

"I was.  I am.  It's just that when I couldn't find it this morning,
the last thought that occurred to me was that somebody had gotten into
my safe overnight.  It was easier to believe I was mistakea."

He looked up, and his expression was reassuring.  "I know.  But I have
to ask."

And he kept on asking.  At some point or other, Jessica started to feel
immune to the implications of some of the questions and found herself
more aware of Arlen.  The longer she was with him, the more she became
cognizant of his magnetism.

"Jessica?"

Her gaze focused on Axle, n, and a painful blush crept into her face.

"You're tired," he said kindly.  "Just a few more questions, ff you
think you can stand it."

Her cheeks felt as if they were on fire, and she had to remind herself
that Arlen Coulter couldn't read her mind.  "Sure," she managed to say.
"I'm not all that tired."

"Did you change the combination on your safe today?"  Jessica shook her
head.  "I don't know how to do it.  Security always does that, and
since they don't believe that somebody got into my safe last night, I
don't think they're going to change it."

Arlen slapped his notebook closed and hooked his pen onto the cover.
"I~11 tell you what I think is going to happen tomorrow.  I may be
wrong, but if I'm right, I want you prepared to carry it off."

Jessica leaned forward a little, fixing her gaze attentively on his
face.  There was a faint, jagged scar under his lower lip, running
diagonally from the corner of his mouth to the center of his chin. That
must be what gave his smile that interesting lopsidedness.

"I think," Arlen said slowly, watching her from intent gray eyes, "the
missing document will turn up sometime tomorrow."

Jessica's eyes widened behind her glasses, and her lips parted on a
breath.  "Why?"

Did she, Arlen wondered, have the least idea what that expression did
to a man, even one as old and abused as he was?  Probably not, he
decided.  If she had, she would have saved it for someone worth
spending it on.

"Because," he replied, forcing his attention back to business, "the
only way to minimize the damage that was caused by your discovery of
the document's disappearance is to put it back in a way that makes it
look as if you mis-laid it."

Jessica blinked and straightened with indignation.  "Frame me, you
mean!"

"I figured that would be your reaction," Arlen said soothingly.  "Just
listen for a moment."

Jessica's eyes were snapping, but she sat back, compressed her lips and
gave him a short nod.

Arlen managed to smother a smile.  "Okay," he said.  "The document will
turn up, and it'll be pinned on you as carelessness or forgetfulness.
Security will believe it, because they can get out of this with a
decision that nothing's been compromised, and a reprimand to you will
close the entire ~matter.  They'll write their letter to the Defense
Investigative Service explaining the events and the actions taken, and
the worst that will happen is that DIS will pull an unannounced
inspection to ensure that MTI's security is up to snuff."

"And I'll havea written security reprimand in my personnel file,"
Jessica reminded him sharply.

"Only temporarily," Arlen said.  "Only until we get this mess settled.
I promise you I'll personally see to clearing your record with the
company.  In the meantime, Jessica, how would you like to work with
the

FBI?  "

"But I have a job."  At least for now, she added to herself.

"And you'll keep it.  No, I want you to work with me on this case.
You'll be my inside contact at MTI.  For the moment, I don't want
anyone over there to know you've called the Bureau, but I still need to
know what's happening.  Can you do that for me?"

Her chin sank a little, but her eyes lifted to his with a kind of
wondering shyness and pleasure that gave him some inkling of how little
she thought of herself.  "You mean you think I can help you?"

"Absolutely," he said.  firmly.  "Not only that, but I don't think I'll
get very far without your help.  Until I get a better idea of who's who
and who makes a good suspect, I

can't risk trusting anyone else at MTI.  Will you help?  " " Of course
I will.  "

Arlen smiled.  "Good.  The first thing is that when that document turns
up tomorrow, and I'm positive it will, you can't argue too hard with
the idea that you mislaid it.  I'm not saying you should be thrilled
with the possibility, but you should be just as relieved as everyone
else when it shows up, and only a little more reluctant to believe that
you were responsible."

Jessica wasn't happy with that, but she nodded her agreement.  "I get
the idea."

"I know it hurts," Arlen said sympathetically, "but try to look at it
from another perspective..  This uproar has undoubtedly scared
somebody, and if he stays scared, we'll never get our hands on him.
It's essential that we catch him, so we can stop him, so we can find
out how long and how much he's been compromising us, and who he's
working for."  '

He came around the coffee table to stand right beside Jessica, and
toudhed her shoulder lightly with his fingers.  "Maybe it'll help if
you think of yourself as an agent working under cover.  That's what
you'll be, you know.  In a very real sense."

Jessica tilted her head, looking dubiously up at him.  "Just by
pretending to believe I mislaid that document?"

"That's part of it."  Arlen squatted, resting his elbows on his knees,
bringing his face level with Jessica's.  "I also want you to start
paying close attention to the people around you.  Notice whether any of
them seem to be seriously troubled, or disgruntled with MTI.  Notice if
any of them seem to be living too well, or drinking too much--any-thing
that might indicate they're not entirely trustworthy."

That idea didn't sit well with her, Arlen could tell.  Most people
didn't like the idea of spying on their co-workers or friends.

"Jessica, I'm not asking you to spy on people.  I'm just asking you to
pay attention to your impressions of people.  See if anyone's attitude
makes you genuinely uneasy  about what they might do.  You have to
remember what's at stake here."

He was right, of course, Jessica thought.  They were talking about
national security.  If she had evidence that would convict a murderer,
'would she withhold it?  Of course not.  This was a crime, too,
potentially as serious as murder to soldiers who might someday depend
on the efficacy of MTI-supplied equipment and software to protect them
in the field.

Turning, Jessica looked Arlen right in the eye.  "I'll do it," she said
firmly.  "What about you?  What will you be doing?"

"Well" he said, standing up, "I'll start by calling DIS--Defense
Investigative Service--and getting a complete report on the security
arrangements at MTI.  For example, I imagine the vault you referred to
is patrolled by armed guards round the clock."

"Well, yes, I think so.  Guards are necessary for the.  protection of
Top Secret information.  That's why.l can't keep it in my safe."

"Exactly.  DIS can give me a complete rundown.  They.  had to approve
all the arrangements to'begin with, and I imagine they inspect things
pretty thoroughly every few months."

Jessica nodded.  When the DIS inspectors came in they usually managed
to spend a few minutes talking to each and every one of the employees
who were cleared for access to classified information.

"And tomorrow," Arlen continued, "I'll initiate background checks on
all the people who have access to your controlled area.  Maybe we can
find someone who's in financial trouble, or who's vulnerable to
blackmail.  Maybe we can close this out quickly."

Looking down at her, he shrugged and gave her a crooked, rueful smile.
"But don't hold your breath.  I used to work in the Foreign
Counterintelligence Division of the Bureau in the Washington area.  It
can take months to gather enough evidence to prosecute."

Jessica sighed and looked down at her hands.  "So it'll probably drag
on."

"Probably.  But look at the bright side."

"Is there one?"  She gave him a doubtful smile.

"Sure.  We get to become acquainted.  Really well acquainted.  In fact,
I guarantee you'll be sick of the sight of me before this is over."

Jessica shook her head, laughing.  "I can't imagine that," she said,
the words slipping out before she knew they were coming.

Arlen watched the brilliant color flood her face, saw the dawning of
her shocked embarrassment.  Her reaction gave more weight to her words
than he would otherwise have assigned them.  If she hadn't blushed, he
would have thought she was teasing.  Because she'd blushed, he knew she
wasn't.

And he was astonished how good that little slip of the tongue made him
feel.  Not since Lucy's death had anyone said anything that made him
feel good.  Angry, maybe.  Irritated, yes.  But not good.  Good
feelings seemed to have left his life along with Lucy.  And, to be
quite honest, he wasn't sure he wanted them back.  Those feelings had a
price, and he'd paid it once.

So, knowing she wasn't teasing, he acted as if she was.  " " You think
you won't only because you haven't had to look at me every day for a
week or a month," he said, chuckling and turning away as if he hadn't
seen her blush.

"I'll let~ you get some rest now, Jessica," he continued, heading for
the door.  "Call me if you have any questions," '

He paused suddenly and turned back, patting his pockets.  "I must have
my card hem somewhere.  Although maybe it's better if you don't carry
it around with you."

"I can reach you at the FBI office, can't I?"  she asked, her
embarrassment fading as he seemed to notice nothing remarkable about
her comment.  "I don't really need your

"You can reach me at home, too," he told her.  "And I really don't mind
if you call.  The humber's in the book.  And if I need to get hold of
you, whatts your office number?"

He pulled the pen and pad from his pocket, but Jessica fores tailed him
with her business card.  Arlen's gray eyes twinkled down at her.

"You're better prepared than I am," he confessed.  "If something comes
up, I'll call."

He took his leave almost with a sense of relief.  Damn it, Aden, he
thought, the lady's young enough to be your daughter, and you're too
damn old and wise to get tangled up with her.

And maybe, he thought a few minutes later, she wasn't as young as she
looked.  Maybe he was going to start feeling again whether he wanted to
or not.  Three years was a long time.  Maybe even dead feelings came
back to life after enough time passed.  Maybe, no matter how much you
wanted them to stay gone, they just came back anyhow.

Chapter 2

mr len arrived at the Bureau offices in the morning to find things in
an uproar.  One of the agents, Ted Wilson, was cooperating with the
Secret Service in a sting operation, and overnight they'd rounded up
five major drug dealers who were selling crack and coke for food
stamps.  The Drug Enforcement Administration had gotten involved
somewhere along the way, and as near as Arlen could tell they had U. S.
marshals, DEA agents, Secret Service agents and even, unless he was
mistaken, a Customs agent, in the hallways and offices of the Bureau.
They lacked only a U. S. Attorney, and it wasn't more than a couple of
minutes fore one showed up.  Carolyn Granger came downstairs with a
tape recorder, warning everyone that unless somebody gave her some good
masons to use with the judge, the dealers would be out on bail in a
couple of hours.

Arlen paused at Ted Wilson's office door and leaned in to congratulate
the young agent.  Wilson, looking tired and rumpled in jeans and an FBI
windbreaker, grinned up at him.  "Thanks, Chief.  It feels pretty
good."

"What's all the congregation for?"

"Well, they're painting all the Treasury offices, which means the
Secret Service guys and the Customs guys am grabbing any excuse to stay
out of there.  I think DEA's just curious."

"Arlen?"  The voice of his secretary, Donna, rose above the din and
reached him down the length of the hall

"Yo!"  Twisting his head and leaning backward into the hall, he could
just see her.

"It's someone named Jessica on the phone."

"Tell her I'll be there in just a rain rite He looked back at Ted.  "
We do have some other work to accomplish here today.  "

"Sure thing, boss."  Ted's grin broadened.  "I think it'll calm down
pretty quick.  These guys were supposed to be at their desks ten
minutes ago, anyway."

It was impossible not to grin back.  This was Ted's first bust, and
Arlen had no trouble remembering the exhilaration he'd felt his own
first time.  Walking down the hall, he edged around similarly jubilant
men and escaped into the quiet of his own office.

Three of the lines on his phone were lit, so he buzzed Donna and found
out that Jessica was on two.

"Jessica," he said pleasantly into the phone, swiveling his chair to
look up at the gray sky that promised rain before the morning was out.
For years he'd worked in an office without a window, and the nicest
part of his current assignment, he sometimes thought, was the window,
with its view of the sky.  "Are you calling from work?"

"Yes, I"

He interrupted her quickly, but kept his tone casual.  "Don't tell me
you're canceling our lunch date."

At the other end of the line, Jessica drew a total blank.  Lunch dato?
She didn't remember making a lunch date with Arlen.  "I was just going
to"

"I can change the time if that'll make it easier for you to meet me,"
he said smoothly.  "Noon instead of one o'clock?  Would that be
better?"

'. "1--I guess."  Flabbergasted, she didn't know what else to say.

"Good!  I'll pick you up out front at noon, then.  I'm sorry I can't
talk, but you know how it is at work.  I'm already late for a meeting.
See you at noon."

At her own desk on the other side of town, Jessica listened to the hum
of the empty phone line as she looked down into the safe drawer.  The
document was back, all right, stuffed down beneath the other folders so
that it lay on the bottom of the drawer.  If Arlen hadn't predicted it,
she would probably be thinking she was losing her mind.  There was no
way she could have missed it in her search yesterday, and yet she would
have wondered anyway.

And for some reason Arlen didn't want to discuss the matter over the
phone while she was at work.  At least, that was the only conclusion
she could draw 'from their crazy conversation.  But she'd wanted to ask
him what to do,

cause it had occurred to her that the red folder or the pages of the
document might have fingerprints on them.  If she' called security
first, they would probably send someone up to check things out and ruin
all the prints.  If there were any.

Troubled, she closed the safe and sat back in her chair.  Well, she
could wait until after lunch to tell security she, had the document. It
would make her look even dippier, but what the heck.  There was
evidently no way she was going to come out of this looking good.

In the meantime, she had a great deal of work still to accomplish on
her design for this new software project.

And someone had been in her safe again last night.  The idea sent
chills racing up and down her spine.  In that safe were highly
classified details about the Western world's electronic countermeasures
systems.  There were threat estimates and survivability estimates, all
of which would be very useful to America's enemies.

In defense work, there were three main levels of classification.
Confidential, the lowest, was given to information that could cause
serious damage to national security if it fell into the wrong hands.
Secret, the next highest, was given to information that could cause
grave damage.  Those were the levels in her safe.  Quite a serious
problem, to have someone rummaging around in those documents.

But what if that someone also had access to the guarded vault
downstairs?  That was where the Top Secret documents were kept,
documents that by definition could cause

 Risl~

exceptionally grave damage to national security, or even provoke war.
It was downright scary even to think about.

And whoever had the combination to her safe probably did have access to
the vault, because that was where copies of the combinations for every
safe in the building were kept.  Somehow this l:~rson must have gotten
to that copy.  And that meant everything in the building was open to
him.

It was not yet nine in the morning, but Jessica found herself rubbing
her temples to ease a growing throb.  Take some aspirin and forget it,
Jess, she told herself.  Just focus your mind on work~

"Hey, Jessica."  Bob Harrow stood in her office door, looking his usual
seedy self, with his hair standing up wildly and a stain of some kind
on the front of his T-shirt.  "Did you finish your part of the design
yet?"  As project director, Bob had the unenviable task of trying to
keep the team on track.

"Not yet, Bob Sorry.  Yesterday blew me out of the water."

Bob looked sympathetic.  "You don't look any too great this morning,
kiddo.  Don't beat yourself over the head about it, Jessica.  You won't
be the first programmer up hem who's spaced something out and found it
two days later.  Why do you think they put the digital locks on the
door?  I keep waiting for them to come up with retina identification
equipment so they don't have to worry about one of us scribbling the
door code on our pants leg or something."

But Je~ca's mind caught on something he said.  "You mean other people
have mislaid things up here?  When did that happen?"

"It happens all the time."  Bob shrugged.  "Well, not every day, but it
was... oh, maybe a month ago that Jerry couldn't find some re4aort or
other on some NATO test.  It turned.  up under a stack of papers on his
desk the next day.  If you ask me, the only mistake you made was
telling security about it.  Those guys are completely u~less.  Did they
find it for you."  Nope.  They just drove you crazy, and yet they're
l~rfectly convinced it'll turn up today or tomorrow under some papers
somewhere.  And it will, Jessica.  Believe me.  Quit worrying about it.
"

Jessica summoned a smile.  "You wouldn't really write the door code on
your jeans leg, would you?"

"Well, I wouldn't, but it wouldn't surprise me if Mike or Carl did
something stupid like that.  I swear, neither one of them can think
except in assembly language.  Well, don't let me keep you from working.
And, Jessica, if this has still got you upset, don't worry about the
design.  We've got a little slack and can wait a little longer."

Alone again, Jessica took two aspirin and forced her attention to her
work.  Work, she'd discovered a long time ago, was solace.

Aden pulled his car up under the overhang in front of MTI's main
entrance to Wait for Jessica.  He left the engine running and the
defroster blowing to keep the windows clear.  The day had turned
unexpectedly cold and miserably wet.  He was glad he had an old
umbrella in the back seat, because he suspected Jessica had probably
misjudged the weather this morning just as he had.

Jessica.  He'd been thinking about her a little too often for his own
peace of mind.  Such a severe little mouse of a woman, he told himself,
and then remembered the unusual brilliance of her brown eyes and the
soft shell pink of her full lips.  CR the fact that her loosely cut
gray slacks and high-necked white blouse had hinted at a figure that
was better than average.

Well, better than average if you liked women with some meat on them,
Arlen thought wryly.  He guessed he did, to judge by his reaction to
the lady.  It hadn't been something he'd really thought about before.

He'd dated Lucy all the way through high school, over her family's
ceaseless objections, and married her a week after graduation.  Then
had come an eighteen-month separation while he went to Vietnam with the
marines.  He'd returned from Southeast Asia with a couple of medals to
rejoin his bride and meet his eleven-month-old daughter, Melanie.  And
nine months after that, Andrew had been born.  Two years later, he was
out of the marines and in college on the GI Bill, both him and Lucy
working to support the kids.  The hard times had paid off in a big way
when he fulfilled his life's dream of joining the FBI.

Sighing, he looked back with a kind of nostalgic sadness.  How young
and invulnerable he and Lucy had been then, both of them sure that the
hard times were over.  Life had a hell of a way of grinding out the
smugness of youth.

Exiting the building through the electronically controlled glass doors,
Jessica caught sight of Arlen just moments before he spied her.  In
that instant she thought tie looked sad.  Alone.  The way she felt
inside all too often.  Did she look like that to others?

But he smiled as he climbed out of the car and came around to open the
door for her.  That lopsided smile of his was infectious, she realized
as she felt her own lips stretch and lift in response.  Today he wore
another, darker, gray wool suit, and he once again looked very much
like the FBI agents of her imaginings.  Very neat, very correct.  Very
tall and very imposing.  Strange, nervous little tickles danced through
her stomach.

But Aden didn't act like her image of an agent.  As she slipped past
him to get into the car, he bent Without warning and kissed her lightly
on the cheek.  When she looked up at him in astonishment, he further
confounded her by laughing and dropping a kiss on the tip of her
nose.

"Climb in, honey.  It's cold out here."  Still smiling, he urged her
into the car.

Honey ?  Surely he couldn't be one of those awful men who called every
woman honey.  Awful as that thought was, she was even more astounded to
realize that some fugitive part of her wished he really meant it.  She
couldn't help thinking that it must be really nice to have someone in
your life who called you "honey" and surprised you with kisses.

But a very long time ago Jessica had decided it was wisest to avoid
men.  The boys in high school had scorned her because she was too poor,
too plump, too smart and wore glasses.  She was one of the very few
girls who didn't go to her senior prom.

Things like that had hurt, of course, but nothing had prepared her for
the anguish she discovered in college.

Prince Charming had arrived in her freshman year in the guise of a
premed student.  To this day Jessica considered herself fortunate to
have discovered that he was more interested in having her do his
programming assignments than.  he was in her love, and that wooing her
had been just a way of buying her brains.  And to this day she could
still writhe with embarrassment when she recalled her own eager
stupidity and readiness to believe in magic.  Lord, the whole world had
turned bright and shining for her in those two short months.  She had
believed the sun rose and set on Chuck Meyers, had done any and
everything he had asked her to, and all because he took her out to a
couple of movies and spent his evenings in her dorm room.  Making her
believe he liked being with her.  Teasing her with little kisses and
then laughing at her blushes.

Fool that she was, she had thought he was laughing because he thought
she was cute.  Andthen he would hand her his math book or his computer
science assignments and say, "Hey, Jess, I don't exactly understand
this.  Help me, huh?"  And she would do his whole damn assignment
bemuse he gave her those little kisses and made her feel like a million
dollars.

Stupid, stupid s'rgteen-year-old Jessica.  How crushed she had been the
day after she finished his final program, the one that had guaranteed
him an A for the course, How stupid and crushed and humiliated when she
learned that Chuck thought they'd had a fair trade.  "You had your
fantasy, and I got my A," he had said bluntly.  "What's the- big deal,
Jess?  It isn't like I even slept with you."  He hadn't even had the
moral dee~ncy to understand what the big deal was.  She'd been a fool,
all right, and she had plumbed the true meaning of despair.  She'd also
learned what it meant to be used, and while she might risk the
heartbreak, she would never again risk the humiliation and the sense of
worthlessness that went with knowing you had been taken advantage of.

Sitting next to Arlen as he pulled out of the MTI parking lot, Jessica
realized she wasn't as immune as she'd believed these past years.  For
the first time in a very long time she found herself acutely,
femininely aware of a man.  She found herself noticing the way his
thigh muscles flexed as he drove.  The easy competence with which his
large, lean hands held the wheel.  The faint shadow of the morning's
beard growth on his cheeks and chin.  The muted scent of a man, just
barely noticeable in the closed confines of the car.  The things that
make men different, and that make them attractive to women.

And she found herself wondering what it would be like to lean over and
rest her cheek against the wool that covered his shoulder.  What would
it be like to have his arm close around her shouldegs and hold her?
Just hold her.  Dear heaven, was it possible to ache just to be held?
Star-tied by a need she had never recognized before, she simply stared
at him.

Arlen glanced her way as he eased into the heavy noon-hour traffic and
caught her staring at him.  Before Jessica's blush became visible, he'd
once again fixed his eyes on the road.

"I guess I. owe you a whole pack of apologies, Jessica," he said.  "You
probably think I've gone off the deep end.  But the simple fact is, if
somebody notices us together, whether it's someone who recognizes me or
someone who recognizes you, I'll be a whole lot more comfortable if
they assume we have some kind of personal relationship."

"Why?"  And then it dawned on her.  Her scalp prielded as she rca! iTed
that Arlen actually thought someone might be watching her.

"After your report to security yesterday," he continued, "somebody
might be interested in your actions for the next couple of days.  It's
better all around if they don't get wind that you've talked to the

FBI.  "

"Is that why you wouldn't let me talk on the phone this morning?"

He nodded and glanced at her.  "You never know who might be listening.
It's just a precaution.  Why did you call?"

"Because you were right.  The missing document was back in my safe this
morning, tucked at the bottom of the drawer as if it had slipped down.
I wanted to ask you how to handle it, because it occurred to me there
might be fingerprints on it."

Arlen steered the car into the parking lot of a popular restaurant.
Only when he'd pulled into a slot and switched off the ignition did he
speak.  Turning a little on the seat, he faced her.

"Well, now," he said, "that's a good question.  I sure as hell can't
come up there to lift the prints, and you sure as hell can't bring the
document out to me."

"Are you so sure security wouldn't be helpful if you talked to them?"
Jessica asked.  It bothered her that he seemed so determined to
c'~cumvent the company's secu "I'm sure they'd be real helpful.  The
problem is, I can't be sure one of them isn't involved.  When somebody
is able to access classified stuff, you have to suspect everybody who
can get the necessary combinations.  That means your facility security
officer and all his people."

Jessica nodded slowly and looked out at the drizzly day.  A soft, small
sigh escaped her.  "Bob Harrow--he's my project chief--mentioned this
morning that my document isn, t the first one to turn up missing
temporarily."  Beside her, Arlen stiffened.  "Really."

Jessica looked at ~him.  "It shook me.  And he mentioned it so'
casually Like it's just the dumb kind of thing you expect a programmer
to do--mislay classified documents overnight.  I mean; I couldn't
believe it, but I could see Bob's point, too.  They always turn up,
there's always an explanation for how they got to be where they are,
and besides, there's a digital combination lock on the door to the
whole section, so the documents are as good as locked in a safe even
when they're left on a desk."

She looked down at her hands.  "Except, of course, that the cleaning
people come in during the night, and they shouldn't be able to get
their hands on the material.  And security comes through at five for
the burn bags, and while they're cleared to take out the class' died
trash, they have visa need to see anything else.  And that's the whole
basis of the protection program, isn't it?  That clearance alone isn't
enough to gain access.  A person has to have a verified need to know,
as well."

"You have a better understanding of security than most people," Arlen
remarked.  "Most people don't begin to understand the concept of 'need
to know."

"

"Well, it makes sense to me," Jessica said.  "And I'll tell you what's
really got me so upset this morning.  Someone was in my safe again last
night.  I don't know how to change the combination, and I don't know
how I can convince security to change it.  So all that information is
essentially unprotected.  Mine and probably everybody else's.  There's
got to be some way to put a stop to this, Arlen!"

It was refreshing, he founds himself thinking, to 'meet someone these
days who actually cared.  So many people were cynical, or at least
pretended to be.

"Actually, Jess," he said, "the plug is going to be pulled this
afternoon."

Her bright brown ~es widened behind her glasses, and Arlen spared a
moment to wonder just how bad her vision was.  "The Defense
Investigative Service is going to pull an unannounced inspection at
your plant this afternoon.  One way or another, they're going to ensure
that information is protected."

"But how?"

Aden shrugged.  "They're going in looking for an opportunity, and they
won't quit until they find it.  They'll make your folks change all the
combinations.  They understand the situation as well as anyone,
Jessica.  That information won't go unprotected another night."

"But you said it's as important to find out what has been compromised
as it is to prevent further compromises.  If they change all the
combinations, won't that prevent the spy from doing anything?  How will
you find him?"

Arlen shook his head.  "For a novice, you're good at thinking these
things out, Jessica, but you're not considering motivation here.  This
person isn't stealing these documents because it's easy.  He's
motivated by something.  The most common motivation is greed, even
though it's a fact that spies generally don't make huge sums of money.
Still, if someone is motivated to steal defense secrets in order to get
money, he not likely to stop just because there's a setback.  Same goes
with other motivations, from revenge to blackmail.  Whatever is driving
this character, he's likely to lie low for a couple of days or weeks,
then try to get his hands on the new combinations."

Jessiea's slow nod indicated her understanding.  "And you'll be
ready."

"Believe it."  He smiled, then utterly deprived her of breath by the
simple expedient of reaching out and running the tip of his index
finger along her cheek.

In that instant Arlen experienced an overload of sensations.  All at
once he was aware of the satin texture of Jessica's skin beneath his
finger, of the way her breath caught and held, of her faint feminine
fragrance.  He saw, too, the way her eyes darkened and her lips parted,
just a little, an unconscious betrayal of her reaction to his touch.
His own body clenched in response, a sharpi hungry stab of want
Abruptly, he drew his hand back.  "I promised you lunch," he said
briskly.  "We'd better get inside before your break is over."

Feeling slightly dazed, Jessica didn't move until he opened her car
door.  She wasn't used to such courtesy, and as often as she'd gone out
with men for lunch, this was the first time in her life one actually
tucked her arm through his, holding it snugly to his side as he guided
her around puddles and held an umbrella over her with gentlemanly
concern.  Being unaccustomed to it, she wasn't sure whether she liked
it, but it certainly made her feel ladylike.

It also made her aware of two other things: how large he was beside
her, and that he was wearing a gun.  The first unsettled her, but the
second unnerved her, causing her to miss her step.  Arlen steadied her
immediately, looking down with quick concern.  '

"Are you all right?"

Feeling foolishly naive--of course an FBI agent worea gun--she
responded tartly to cover her embarrassment.  "I'm just not accustomed
to rubbing elbows with a gun."

Gray eyes looked down at her steadily for an in~ terminable moment.
When he spoke, his voice was absolutely level.  "Does it bother you?"

Jessica had the inexplicable feeling that she was being tested in some
way, though she had no idea what kind of response he wanted.  She could
only tell the truth.  "Actually," she said, and felt her blush rising
again, "it caught me by surprise.  I wasn't expecVmg it, that's all.
And I wish I could learn to stop blushing!"

Arlen looked startled, and then he chuckled, asking, "How old are you,
anyway?"

Her color deepened even more.  "I'm twenty-six.  Are you laughing at
me?"

"Not at all."  He shook his head solemnly, but his eyes were-dancing.
He urged her toward the restaurant door.  "Twenty-six?  And you've been
with MTI for six years, you said?  You must have graduated from college
young."  Twenty-six was no child, he found himself thinking, and then
wondered why that relieved him.

"I was a little accelerated," she admitted, reluctant to discuss this.
People, especially men, seemed to be put off when they learned that
she'd graduated from high school at sixteen and completed her
undergraduate work and her masters by the age of twenty.

"I was your age when I graduated," Arlen volunteered.  He collapsed the
umbrella and opened the door for her.  "Vietnam slowed me down."

The restaurant was less crowded than usual at that hour, probably
because the weather had dampened a few appetites.  Jessica ordered the
crab salad that was her favorite lunch, and Arlen ordered the
vegetarian plate.

"I'm not a vegetarian," he remarked as he handed the menus to the
waitress, "but on my job I wind up eating a lot of greasy fast food.
Eve~ so often I throw a sop to my conscience."

Jessica laughed.

"I think," he said, returning to business, "I'd like to hear from you
tonight about the DIS inspection this afternoon."

"I won't know much about what's going on," Jessica told him.  "When
they've come other times, they spent a couple of minutes asking me
whether I have any problems or questions, or whether I've had any
unusual or suspicious contacts, but that's the extent of my
involvement."

He nodded and leaned back to allow the waitress to serve them.  "But
you might pick up on ~ple's reactions to what's happening.  This is
going to be a different inspection from most, Jessica.  It's going to
be harder, tougher and longer.  This time DIS isn't going in with the
assumption that everything's on the up-and-up.  This time they know
something's seriously wrong, and they're going to dig for any sign or
symptom of it.  It's certainly apt to irritate people; and it should
make anyone with a guilty conscience just a little uneasy.  People get
incautious when they're worried, and you just might pick up on
something."  He shrugged and lied his fork.  "I just want you to be
alert and then share your impressions with me.  Maybe you'll get
something, maybe you won't."

"Well, I can do that much," Jessica readily promised, and then laughed.
"I have to admit, though, when they ask me if I've had any suspicious
contacts, you're definitely going to be the picture that pops into my
mind."

Arlen laughed, too.  "Just try not to look guilty."

"Did you bring one of your cards for me today?"  Jessica asked.  "It
doesn't really matter, but last night I realized that I never knew FBI
agents carried business cards.  And then I got to wondering what it
looks like."

"Just a regular card.  No bells or whistles or anything fancy."
Hepatted his pockets until he found the one holding his card case.  "I
don't know why it is," he said, "but I can never remember where I keep
these damn things.  Here you go.  But I'd really be a lot happier if
you didn't carry this around with you."

"I'll give it right back, then.," She accepted the white card, studying
it with an interest she didn't bother to hide.  Embossed in gold with
an FBI badge in one corner, it identified Arlen as Special Agent in
Charge of the local field office.

"Special Agent in Charge?"  she-read questioningly.

"We call it SAC.  It means I get to do a lot of extra paperwork and
stand on the firing line for a lot of extra flak."  She handed the card
back and smiled at him.  "You're just being modest."

"I'm never modest.  It's the plain truth.  I also get to work twice as
many hours as anyone else when we have multiple operations going."

At that moment his pocket beeper tweeted at him.  Looking rueful, he
switched it off and spread his hands apologetically.  "It also means I
can't enjoy an uninterrupted lunch with a lady.  Will you excuse me?"

He crossed the room to the pay phone near the exit, weaving among
tables with a grace that could only come from peak physical
conditioning.  A gun and a pocket pager.  Shaking her head ruefully,
Jessica lifted a forkful of crabmeat to her mouth.  No sane woman would
be attracted to a man who wore a gun under his coat on one side and a
pager in the pocket on the other side.  Neither object promised a
tranquil existence, and that kind of excitement was not what she
wanted.

But he hinted at other kinds of excitement, too, she found herself
thinking wistfully.  Excitement of a kind she'd never thought she might
experience--and in all honesty still didn't think she ever would.

With a sigh, she forced her thoughts back to the safer area of
espionage.  That was Aden Coulter's sole hit crest in her, and she
would do well to remember it.

And then, like the proverbial bolt out of the blue, she remembered
something that had happened just the week before last.  No, maybe it
had been a little longer ago than that.  Closing her eyes, she tried to
remember exactly when it had happened.

"Sorry I was gone so long," Arlen said, sliding into his chair.  And
then he noticed her frown of concentration.  "Jessica?  Are you all
right?"

"I'm fine.  I just remembered something."  She looked at him, eyes
troubled behind her lenses.  "I suddenly remembered something that
happened a couple of weeks ago.  Someone I met.  I was just trying to
remember exactly when."

Serious Rislo Arlen leaned toward her intently.  "You had a suspicious
contact?"

"I don't know.  It wasn't any big deal.  It's just that something
didn't feel right about it, and I was trying to pinpoint it.  I don't
know how familiar you are with MTI, but a lot of us graduated from the
local university, and many of us still have social and professional
contacts there.  I keep in touch with a lot of the professors from the
computer science and engineering departments, and times I brainstorm
with them."

Arlen nodded encouragingly.  "Go on."

"Well, on one of those visits Professor Kostermeyer in engineering
introduced me to a couple of his graduate students.  One of them was
Chinese."

"From Taiwan or the People's Republic?"

"I don't know.  It never occurred to me to wonder."  Arlen nodded
again.  "What happened?"

"Nothing, really, but even just thinking about it bothers me.  I was in
the supermarket two weeks ago, the one near my house."

He nodded.  "I know the one.  Corbett's."

"Right.  An awful long way from the university.  And I ran into the
Chinese grad student Kostermeyer introduced me to.  The thing is, I
really didn't remember him until he reminded me, and then it struck me
as really odd that he would remember me ~ell enough to recognize me and
call me by name several months later."  She watched him, half hoping he
would reassure her somehow, maybe tell her that it wasn,t odd at all.

The back of Arlen's neck was prickling overtime, a sure sign that this
was important.  It was an instinct that had never failed him yet.
"Well, some people do have really amazing memories for faces and names.
They're also about as rare as ice at the equator.  It's exactly the
kind of contact you're supposed to ~port to your security officer. This
is a classic type of recruitment approach.  What exactly happened?"

"Well, he suggested we have lunch together, and I said I was busy. Then
he suggested we do it another time, but I managed to keep it vague and
left.  It was just now, sitting here, that I really started thinking
about it."  She shrugged.  "Maybe I'm just getting paranoid because of
this other stuff?"

"Did he by any chance offer to pick up the tab when he made the
suggestion?"  Students were usually too tight on money to do more than
pick up their own tabs, especially foreign students, who were often
living on very restricted stipends.  If this fellow had offered to buy
lunch, the contact would be even more suspicious.

She looked down, trying to remember exactly how the invitation had been
worded.  "I'm not sure about that, either.  I just wasn't paying enough
attention, Arlen."  She raised eyes that asked for his understanding.
"The whole thing seemed more like a slightly uncomfortable nuisance, if
you want the truth.  I figured he wanted some help getting a job at
MTI.  And I was vaguely worried that he might be persistent about
it."

"That may be all he wants," Arlen agreed.  "I've seen recruitments
start out exactly like this, though."  Reaching out, he startled her
once again by briefly covering her hand with his.  Almost as soon as
she registered the dry warmth of his skin, he withdrew his touch.

"Let me tell you a story, Jessica."

She nodded, pushing her salad aside and giving him her full
attention.

"A number of years ago, a university student knocked on his neighbor's
door and complained that the volume of the man's stereo was disturbing
his studying.  The neighbor, a Bulgarian student, apologized and
promptly turned his stereo down.  A few days later, the Bulgarian
invited the American over for a drink, and the American accepted to
show there were no hard feelings.  With me so far?"  Jessica nodded.
"Is this true?"

"Absolutely.  Anyhow, while he was having a drink with' the Bulgarian,
the American was introduced to a friend of the Bulgarian's, a man who
was identified as a cultural at-tache at the Bulgarian embassy.  The
attache talked to the American for a while, ascertained that the
student, like most students, Could use some extra money, and offered to
hire him to do some economic research."

"I think I can guess the rest," Jessica said.

Aden shook his head.  "I doubt it.  This student happened to see a
program about espionage on a local public television station right
about that time and, wonder of wonders, he called the local FBI field
office.  The Bulgarian attache turned out to.be an officer in the KGB,
and we successfully ran the American student for two years as a double
agent."  Arlen smiled faintly.  "The student had a yen to be James
Bond. He loved every minute of it.  And we got five or six very
important arrests out of it, not to mention all the disinformation we
passed to the Soviets."

"So my student might have been making an approach."  Jessica watched
him, hoping he would deny it.

"He might have been.  The thing a lot of people don't understand about
students from some less-than-friendly nations is that they're not spies
exactly, but they're expected to report back to their embassies about
every person they meet.  So say this student reported his brief meeting
with you, as he's reported a hundred others, but this one caught the
eye of somebody in intelligence.  So he was told to make a further
contact with you.  If he can manage to become just slightly acquainted
with you, then he can introduce someone else to you without arousing
your suspicions."

Jessica nodded unhappily.  "Then if it really wasn't an accidental
meeting, I can expect to run into him.  again sometime."  '

"Absolutely.  And if you do, I want you to go along with his
suggestions."

Jessica's eyes widened, and she drew h sharp, disbelieving breath.
"You're kidding!  Tell me you're kidding!"  But from the expression on
his face she-knew he wasn't.  The unease she'd felt over the missing
document was nothing compared to the nervous fluttering in her stomach
right now.  "Arlen, I don't have the nerves for this!"

"No nerves are required," he said calmly.  "The man asks you to lunch,
and you go.  He may or may not introduce ~ou to someone else.  At each
stage, you're always free to continue or bow out.  Nothing commits you
for the long haul, Jessica."

"But--but" -How could she adequately express the terror she felt?  "I'd
be too scared to do it."

"There's nothing to be scared of.  Nobody who's been a double agent for
us has ever, e~er, been harmed.  In fact, a few have found the KGB
protects them as carefully from the

FBI as we try to protect our double agents from them.  " " We're not
talking about the KGB here, Aden.  "

"It doesn't matter.  I'll look after you.  The whole damn Bureau will
look after you.  And if the opposition tumbles to the fact that you're
a double agent, all they'll do is ske-dad die so fast your head'll
spin.  They would have absolutely nothing to gain by harming you, and
everything to lose '

Jessica shook her head, frantically trying to find an objection that
would convince him.

"Look."  Reaching out, he caught one of her hands in each of his and
stilled their nervous motions.  "Just think about it, Jessica.  You
don't have to answer right now.  Just think about it and how important
it is."

He saw the fear in her bright brown eyes and felt guilty for what he
was doing.  He was positive she wouldn't be hurt in any way, or he
wouldn't be suggesting it.  It was important that she do this, damn it,
but not important enough to put her life at risk.  The problem was,
people's heads were full of Hollywood notions of espionage, notions
that had little to do with reality, particularly the reality of
domestic espionage.  In fact, Hollywood aside, foreign intelligence
operations had more to lose than they could ever gain if they even once
harmed an American citizen who was working for either them or' the

FBI.

Her fingers felt so small and fragile within the confines of his large
hands, and her skin was so smooth and satiny.  Her wrists were small
and delicate, certainly less than half the size of his.  She would be
small and soft and satiny, hot and tight and He abruptly released her
hands, schooling his thoughts to less inflammatory paths.  What a
damnable time for his libido to resurrect itself!

"Just think about it," he said, relieved to find he sounded natural.  "
I promise I won't pressure you.  ".

Serious R~ks 4. 5

That was fair, Jessica thought with relief.  She understood the
importance of what he'd asked her to do, but she seriously doubted she
had steady enough nerves for anything of the sort.  In many ways, she
was simply a mouse.  ~ Still, she thought wistfully, she might almost
consider it--if he would hold her hands again.  She had known so little
caring physical contact in her life.

"I'd better be getting you back," Arlen said, signaling the waitress.
"I'll come by this evening, unless that will interfere with your
plans."

"To ask me about what happens this afternoon?"

He nodded and gave her a reassuring smile.  "And that's all, I promise.
Unless you want to talk about something more."

"All right."  She tried to look indifferent.  "I'll just be trying to
straighten up the place.  Someday I hope tq have all those boxes
emptied."

When they were driving back toward MTI through the steady rain, Jessica
thought to ask, "What do you want me to do about that document?"

Arlen braked for a stoplight and rubbed his chin before glancing at
her.  "Leave it undiscovered until tomorrow," he said after a moment.
"Tonight I'll give you a crash course in how to lift a fingerprint. I'm
willing to bet, though, that the prints will be wiped off.  Anyone with
half a brain would have thought of that once the hue and cry was raised
over that document."

"But if I find one?"

"It may be yours.  Whatever you find, you can bring it out to me
tomorrow.  Why don't I meet you for lunch again?"

Jessica looked sideways at him.  "Is your expense ao-count up to
this?"

He chuckled.  "When it starts complaining, I'll let you know."

When he pulled up before MTI's main entrance, he set the car in park
and turned to her.  "Take care, Jess," he said and bent forward, giving
her the lightest, gentlest kiss on her lips.  "See you tonight," he
added in a husky murmur.

It was all for show, but it didn't feel like playacting, not to
Jessica.  Her heart stopped in her throat, and electric sparks shot out
from that brief, light caress, dazing her.

Somehow she climbed out of the car.  It was only as she was stepping
into the lobby that she realized someone had been watching.  Bob
Harrow, her project chief, stood just inside the doors, grinning like
the Cheshire cat.

"Something wrong, Bob?"  she asked him, feeling annoyed that he'd seen
the gesture.  That in fact he'd probably precipitated it.

"Not a thing," he said, suddenly all innocence.  "Not a thing,
Jessica."  But there was a knowing glint in his eye as he rode the
elevator upstairs with her.

Chapter 3

Bob Harrow hadn't been the only one to notice Jessica's lunch date.
Frank Winkowski, another of the project's programmers, had seen' her
departure and Arlen's kiss on her cheek.  Before the afternoon was over
she had endured some merciless teasing, and naturally she made it worse
by insisting that Arlen was just a good friend.

She wasn't entirely comfortable with teasing.  She'd been an only
child, raised by a mother and grandmother who'd had little use for her.
Since coming to work at~TI, she'd seen a lot of teasing among her
co-workers, and on occasion she'd been the gentle butt of 'some of it.
It was easier to handle now, but she couldn't take it as casually as
others did.

The teasing, however, had taken her mind off other things, and she got
through the entire afternoon with only occasional thoughts of the
document in her drawer or the security inspection that surely had begun
somewhere in the building.

Unannounced inspections were permitted by the terms of the security
agreement a defense contractor had with the government, so the Defense
Investigative Service needed to give no excuse for showing up.  No one
knew that this inspection was a direct result of Jessica's report to
the FBI, and Aden had assured her that DIS would be careful not to draw
any attention to her.  She would be treated exactly like everyone else,
and since these inspections always took at least three days, she didn't
really expect to see an inspector for another day or so.

When she got home she changed into jeans and a sweat~ shirt, ate a
quick salad for dinner and dug into the packing boxes that still waited
all over the house.  She'd accumulated quite a few possessions over the
years since she left college.  Most of them had been bought by chance
when she stumbled on some item that she knew would be perfect for the
home she dreamed of owning someday.  Now she owned the home, and she
was a little surprised to find how much of the furnishing and
bric-a-brac she'd already acquired.

She had just dragged the last of a series of boxes to the foot of the
stairs to be carried up when the doorbell rang.  Arlen.  This time she
didn't imagine herself slinking away.  This time a swift image flashed
across her mind that left her aching.  Giving herself a mental
scolding, she dusted her hands against her jeans and went to open the
door.

If she'd been jolted by his charisma last night, tonight she came close
to being stunned.  Tonight he wore snug, jeans and a black sweater that
awoke swashbuckling images in Jessica's hyperactive imagination.  She
wouldn't have thought that a man who could look so elegant conservative
in banker s gray could look like an outlaw in a pair of jeans.

"Hello, Jessica."  He smiled, deepening the creases at the corners of
his eyes.  Unaware of the effect that expression had on her pulse rate,
he scanned her from head to foot.  Her jeans, unlike last night's
slacks, were worn from many washings and were a closer fit.  Her
sweatshirt, also worn thin from many washings, hugged her breasts with
more familiarity than he suspected she realized.  This lady was
womanly.  She would fill a man's hands and arms; she would cradle him
in softness and surround him in heated satin.  And he sure as hell
shouldn't be thinking about ~ like that when he was supposed to be
working.

Jessica stepped.  back, achieving a smile despite her heart's
hammering--the way he'd looked at her!  --and invited him in.  "This
isn't a bad time, is it?"  he asked as he stepped into her foyer.
Immediately he noticed the boxes lined up at the foot of the stairs.
"Do you need those carded up?  Let me do that for you."

"Oh, I couldn't really"

Turning, he smiled down at her.  "Sure you can.  You're helping me, and
I'd like to do something in return."

Jessica's knees rubberized instantly.  That crooked, warmly ig.  tim
ate smile did things to her insides, tweaking, pulling, tingling.
Before she could gather her wits to respond, he squatted and hefted the
first box.  His sweater pulled up in the back, exposing a band of
smooth skin and the fact that he wore no belt on his jeans.  Why did
the absence of a belt cause a deep, slow.  pulsing inside her?

"Where upstairs?"  Aden asked as he began climbing.

"First room on the right."  Was that really her voice, sounding so
husky?

Arlen set the box out of the way against the wall in the designated
room.  As he straightened, he knew with sudden, deep certainty that
this was Jessica's room.  It was, he supposed, prying, but nevertheless
he looked around him with interest, noting the ruffled dotted swiss
curtains on the tall windows, the white satin comforter and white dust
ruffle on the maple four-poster.  Embroidered linen doilies decorated
the top of her maple dresser, and dotted swiss skirted a dressing table
with a matching mirror.  The only colors in the room were the bright
area rugs scattered around the polished wood floor.

Vkginal, he thought.  The room of ~ sixteen-year-old.  He started to
turn away, wondering what had arrested Jessica's development, when he
suddenly had the most erotic image of bare skin on white satin and dark
hair that tumbled to her waist.  How long was her hair?  he wondered,
then shook himself and headed downstairs far the next box.  Damn it,
Coulter, this is business[

Five boxes later, he'd seen the-other two bedrooms, one of which held a
desk, bookcase and personal computer with all the necessary
peripherals.  And he was still as randy as the old goat he was
beginning to feel like.  Bare skin on white satin.  He cursed the
randomly firing brain cell that had brought that image to mind.

Jessica awaited him at the foot of the stairs.  "Coffee's ready, "she
said brightly.

"Great."  He descended the last few stairs wondering what she would do
if he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.  By the time he reached
the bottom she'd started to move into the living room, unwittingly
giving him a view of her gently swaying rear that only compounded his.
" problem.

Once again she served coffee in the delicately patterned china cups.
Seated in an armchair, Arlen gave himself a few minutes to savor her
really excellent coffee and to bank some of his unwanted urges.

"How'd it go at work this afternoon?"  he asked finally.  "Like
always."  She flushed.  "Well, not exactly.  It seems you were right
that we might be observed.  Two of the guys I work with saw us, and I
got teased about it."

One corner of his mouth lifted.  "But I bet they didn't ask who I
was."

"Of course not.  They had that all figured out."  Her voice was tart,
and then she laughed softly.  "You were right.  Once they saw you kiss
me, they filled in all the blanks.  Nobody even asked your name."

"It's an old magician's technique.  Misdirect the attention of the
audience.  Works every time."  His smile broadened.  "What about the
inspection?"

"It never got anywhere near our section today.  grapevine didn't even
get the word to us until almost ting time.  The only thing different
that I noticed was that the security stations were performing random
briefcase checks for the first time in an age."

Arlen nodded,.  "I expected that.  Just like I expect that tomorrow you
11 have to show your ID to get past the front.  desk, even if it's a
security crew that knows you."

He sipped coffee and let his head rest against the chair back.  "This
chair is too comfortable, Jess.  You may never get rid of me.  Heavy
lidded, his eyes watched her lazily,

"I've got the fingerprint kit out in my ear.  I suppose I should get
it."

"There's no rush," she said.  "I'm not going anywhere."

They sat for a while in companionable silence, and he began to feel
more relaxed than he could remember feeling in quite a while.

"Arlen?"

"How can I carry fingerprints out of the building tomorrow if they're
doing briefcase checks?"

He rolled his head a fraction so that he could look at her.  "There's
no law that says you can't carry fingerprints around with you."

"But what if they ask?"  Her small face was worried.  "Tell them your
boyfriend's a cop, and they're his.  Or tell them you're taking a night
school course in criminol-og3'.  Relax, Jess.  They probably won't even
look in your briefcase tomorrow, but if they do, they'll know better
than to bother you about things that are none of their business.  They
don't want any trouble with their bosses."

He spoke lazily, his eyelids still drooping, and Jessica's wild
imagination suddenly presented her with the image of a panther lazing
in the sun, deceptively sleepy but very much alert.

"Where are you from originally?"  she asked him abruptly.  Arlen heard
the shortness of her tone and wondered if he'd said something to
disturb her.  No, he was sure he hadn't.  And then' coiling through him
like liquid heat was the memory of the way her lips had parted at his
touch earlier in the day.  Could she be bothered by the same impulses
that were troubling him?  Turning his head a little more, he looked at
her fully.

"I hate to admit this," he said, but I'm a damn Yankee from New York.
"

Jessica's lips curved.  "New York?  Do you miss it?"

"Hardly.  One of the Bureau's rules is that you can't be stationed
anywhere too close to home.  I knew when I signed on that I'd never go
back."

"How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to know you Texans have the same opinion about Yankees in
general and New Yorkers in particular that the rest of the country has
about Texans."  Jessica laughed.  "So you're a big-city boy?"

"Oh, I'm not from the city," he said.  "I'm from a sleepy little
dairy-farming community upstate.  What about you?  Did you grow up
right here?"

She shook her head.  "No, I'm a hayseed, too.  From a little town in'
West Texas where we had a lot more dust storms than.  we had
rainstorms.  Let me get some more coffee."

At the door she paused and looked back.  "Are you hungry?  I think I
have some coffee cake in the freezer.  It'd take only a minute to zap
it in the microwave."  Actually, she more than thought the coffee cake
was there.  She h~!  bought it on the way home this afternoon just so
she could offer it to him.

"Sounds good," he admitted.  He'd stayed late at work tonight, and by
the time he got away he'd decided on fast food so he wouldn't arrive at
Jessica's too late.  The food had been tasteless, though, so he'd
ditched his stopped by his apartment just long enough to change, dashed
over here.  Coffee cake sounded very good.  In fact~ relaxing sounded
very good.  It was Thursday evening, and so far he'd worked every night
this week, not to mention last Sunday, when he'd had to help one of the
agents iron out some wrink16s in a bribery investigation.

"Do you work all the time?"

The soft question caused him to look up at.  Jessica was standing
beside him, holding out a plate w~tla one nana and his freshly filled
cup with the other.

"Thank you."  Smiling, he took both from her and set them on the coffee
table.

"Do you?"  she asked as she resumed her seat on couch.

"Do I what?"

all the

He shrugged.  "Sometimes it seems that way.  Aren't you having any
cake?"  His plate held a large piece.  She had no plate at all

"I can't afford the calories.  Don't Worry about me."  She said it as
if she'd been saying it for a very long time and had come to accept it,
and somebody Aden found that utterly intolerable.  "Are you trying to
me weight?"  "Of course."  She smiled faintly: "All the time."

"Why?"

' ~ " *" he '

She gaped at him.  Why.  s repeated stupidly.

Why?  Anybody could see that just by looking at her.

"Yes WhyO" And somewhere betw~,n ima .  Tes of ink g satin skin on a
white satin bed and the Understanding that he was being driven out of
his mind by the sexual appeal of a woman who believed she didn't have
any, Arlen lost the first iron layer of his self-control.  Havin ~been
for more

,

than four years, unable to hold and love a woman probably added
considerably to the stress of the moment.  Since

Lucy had~ become too ill to love, he hadn't wad ted to love.

Not until this plump little partridge entered his life.  And here she
was trying to waste away the very charms that were driving him wild.

"You have no idea," he said flatly, "just how beautiful your
healthiness is.  How attractive you am--just the way you are."

Jessica's hand fluttered to her throat, and she stared at him
disbelievingly.  "I, um, t-that's Very kind of you to say, she
squeaked. Her heart was ham~enng so hard them was no room in her chesr
for air. He was just ~eing nice, she told herself.  But, oh, how she
wished..,

The wish was plain on her face, and 4xlen was just tired enough, just
pushed enough, just frustrated enough, to forget he was an agent on a
case.  Rising, he walked with a deliberate tread around the coffee
table and just as deliberately sat beside Jessica on the sofa.  Her
head had turned as her eyes followed him, and now she looked at him
with wide, wondering brown eyes.  Bright eyes, he noticed, that were
far more hopeful than fearful.

"I'm going to kiss you, Jessie," he said huskily as he reached up and
removed her glasses, setting them aside on ders--there just weren't
words to adequately describe how good it felt.

"Are you all right, Jessie?"  he asked presently, touching her cheek
with gentle fingertips.

"Yes."  The word sounded lost and breathless against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry~," he said.  "I shouldn't have done that."

A long moment passed before she could find her voice.  "Why not?"

"Any number of' reasons."  His voice had returned to normal, and his
heart rate was coming into line.  "In the first place, it wasn't very
professional.  I don't think there's a specific rule against it, since
you're not a suspect, but I still don't think an agent is supposed to
be kissing some one who's involved in his case."

"I won't tell," Jessica murmured, still too swamped by emotions to
speak cautiously.

Arlen smiled and tightened his arm around her just a little.  "And I
won't do it again, Jessica."

It was on the tip of her tongue to protest, but her mind was swinging
into action again, and she caught the words before she could speak
them.  She didn't know this man, and if she were to think about it she
would probably be shocked that she had fallen into his arms so easily
after an acquaintance of a mere day.  After all, she'd never before
fallen into anyone's arms.

Jessica tilted her head back and looked up at him.  He was close enough
at the moment that she could see him clearly v~ithout her glasses. "How
old are you, Arlen?"

"Forty-two."

His smile, she thought, looked a little sad somehow.  "That's part of
the problem, isn't it?"  She didn't mention the wedding ring he still
wore, which she suspected was the biggest part of the problem.

He didn't ask what She meant.  He knew.  "I have a daughter who's
nearly your age, Jessie.  She's twenty-three and expecting her first
child.  My first grandchild.  And I have a son who's twenty-one."

"You started young."  it wasn't a question.

"I was eighteen when Lucy and I married.  Right out of high school and
right over everyone's objections."

"Were you right, or were they?"

He closed his eyes, and his smile broadened just a shade.  "We were,"
he said.  And he brought his other arm around Jessica, giving her a
little hug.  "I had a good marriage, Jessie.  A very good marriage.
Once in a lifetime is all anyone has a right to expect."

Eventually, because their embrace was still too intimate both for their
respective roles and for his conscience, Ar-len stirred.  Releasing
Jessica, he handed her back her spectacles.

"I'll go get that fingerprint kit," he said, rising from the sofa.

She slipped her glasses onto her nose and looked up at him.  "Okay,"
she managed to say brightly.  "I think I'll make some more coffee.  Do
you want any?"

He looked down with a smile that didn't reach his gray eyes.  "I'll
pass, thanks.  I need to get some sleep tonight."

So did she, thought Jessica, but she seriously doubted she was going to
get it, coffee or no coffee.

It'was a night for memories, Arlen thought.  It was late, and his
apartment seemed emptier than usual, though not as empty as the house
he'd shared with Lucy had seemed after her death.  The only keepsakes
he hadn't put into storage were an eight-by-ten photo of Lucy and a
slew of photographs of the children.  Everything else had been put
away, because a man his age had no choice but to move on.

But sometimes he remembered, and tonight, with a glass of bourbon to
keep him company, he held Lucy's photo and looked back.

He hadn't been kidding.  It had been a good marriage.  Not a perfect
marriage, but a good one.  A comfortable one.  A hell of a lot better
by far than most marriages he knew about.  Part of him had died with
Lucy, had expired with her last breath as he held her in his arms that
one final time.  Afterward, he had figured he would go on as father,
friend and government agent, but never again as lover or spouse.  That
part was gone.

Evidently, he found himself thinking as he looked down at Lucy's
smiling face, he'd been a little naive in his expectations.  The
feelings hadn't died but had merely gone into hibernation.  That
created a whole mess of interesting problems he wasn't sure he cared to
deal with at this stage in his life.

First of all, he was about to become a grandfather.  He had certain
images of that role that didn't' jibe with the memory he had of himself
and Jessica on her couch this evening.  It also meant he was too damn
old to be rolling around with a girl her age.  His children were grown,
and she was the right age to be having children.  Damn, Jessica was
only a few years older than his daughter!  That realization kept
drawing him up short and hard, like a yanked rein.

Setting Lucyis picture aside, he carried his drink into the kitchen and
dumped it down the sink.  He'd never been much for alcohol, and at a
time like this he wanted his head to be perfectly clear.

Ext~pt how clear could it be when he kept imagining pink skin and white
Satin, and remembering just how right a certain young woman had felt in
his arms?  How perfectly she'd fitted against him and how passionately.
she'd responded to his kiss?

And what damn difference did it make?  He was an agent on a case and
had to remain professional.  Whatever had gotten into him tonight had
better not get into him again.  ~ That was the beginning, middle and
end of it right there.

She was too young for him, Jessica thought as she lay in the middle of
her four-poster bed and stared up at the patterns made by the moonlight
on her ceiling.  Of course he would think so~ How could he not?  She
and men had spent her entire life avoiding one another, so how could
she possibly know the right things to say and do to make it clear that
she didn't feel young?  It had probably been that very inexperience
that had caused him to draw back from her know how to kiss how to
please, how to e that, he'd

But, of course, it was all for the best.  He still wore his wedding
ring.  Whether she felt young or not, Jessica definitely didn't feel up
to dealing with the ghost of Arlen's wife.  She had a very healthy
respect for the power of ghosts.  Hadn't she watched her mother
languish and drink herself to an early grave over the death of
Jessica's father?  And, oh, what a slow death that had been, finally
leaving the mother dependent on the daughter who was still only a
child.

Arlen seemed to be holding up a lot better than her mother had, Jessica
thought, but she knew too well what it meant to be invisible to
grieving eyes.

Turning over onto her side, she looked out the window at the moon
through the lacy tracery of tree branches.  He had been in this room
tonight.  What had he.  thought or it?  Did he think it childish?
Probably.  She knew as well as anyone just how childish it was.  It was
the room she had dreamed of having someday, a dream she could trace all
the way back to the age of seven.  That was the year after her father's
death.  That was when she'd finally realized there was no way to go
back home.

And so she'd begun to dream of a home in the future.  A lot of that
dream had matured to more realistic proportions that could be embodied
in this house she now owned.  Tonight, however, it was strikingly
obvious' to her that she'd forgotten to include the most important part
of any home: family.

Sighing heavily, her throat suddenly and inexplicably tight, she
wrapped her arms around a pillow and hugged it.  She'd been lonely for
so long she'd ceased to be aware of it.  Until tonight.

Damn Arlen Coulter for making her conscious of it.

Chapter 4

Dress in her favorite dove-gray suit and black silk blouse, Jessica
arrived at work forty-five minutes early the next morning.  The extra
time was essential if she was to try to lift fingerprints from the
document.  It wasn't so much that the process was complicated, because
it wasn't, but she wanted ample time so she could move slowly and avoid
errors.

Security, mindful of DIS inspectors, checked her identification
thoroughly before waving her through.  When she arrived in her own
section' she walked down the hall, assuring herself that all the other
offices were empty.  Only then did she return to her own office, close
the door and start to open her safe.

"Talk about acting suspicious," she muttered to herself as she spun the
dial first left, then right, then left and then right again.  She felt
the dial resist as she reached the last number and knew she'd worked
the combination correctly.  Pressing down tho lever, she grabbed the
drawer handle and pulled it open.

The document was still on the bottom of the drawer, apparently
untouched since she'd found it there yesterday.  When she'd emptied
enough of the other documents to give herself unobstructed access to
the red folder, she used the plastic gloves Arlen had given her to lift
it out.

"It's not that your fingerprints will get you into trouble," he'd told
her last night.  "You just don't want your prints to destroy a good
print by overlaying it."

Only there were no good prints.  She knew that with certainty twenty
minutes later, having dusted the entire folder and the document with
dark powder.  The powder adhered to nothing except some vague, blurry
streaks.  The spy had wiped the prints, just as Arlen had suspected.
,

Disappointed, she cleaned up the mess with exaggerated care and then
went down the hall to wash her hands.  Frank~ Winkowski was just
entering ~the section when she came back down the hall from the rest
room.  He looked surprised to see her, then smiled.

"You're early, too," he said.  Brainstorm?  " He was a pleasant-looking
man with a round face and a tendency to softness around his waist.

Jessica shook her head.  "Not really.  I just woke up early this
morning, and there didn't seem to be any point in hanging around the
house.  Besides, after all that uproar with security the other day, I
need to do some catching up."

Frank nodded.  "We'll all have to do some catching up, I think.  From
what I hear, this security inspection is turning into a real bear.
Start Watson--do you know him?"

"He's the guy heading up the Big Whistle project, isn't he?"

"Yeah."  Frank shifted his briefcase from one hand, to the other, as if
it were heavy.  "He said a team of two inspectors are shutting
themselves up in a private office with each of his team members for an
hour at a stretch."

"Oh boy?"  Jessica managed to sound surprised.  "What's going on?
What're they asking?"

Frank shrugged.  "Dunno.  The guys they questioned yesterday afternoon
say they can't talk about it.  Maybe there's been a leak from the
project."

Jessica shook her head.  "I can't imagine that.  What does Stan think
about it?"

"I think he's just plain furious.  He also said that they're inspecting
everyone's desk."

"I heard they can do that, but I never saw them inspect one."

"Me either."  Frank shook his head.  "I guess if you've got any
embarrassing love letters in your desk from that!  guy you were with
yesterday, you'd better dump 'em."

She saw the twinkle in his eye and decided not to let the comment
bother her.  "Thanks, Frank.  If I ever get him to write an
embarrassing love letter, you'll be the last to know."

"Thought so!"  Laughing, he moved down the hall to his own office.

Back at her desk, Jessica installed her hard drive, booted up and
resumed her work.  She thought she was doing pretty well, too, until an
hour later when Aden called.

"Lunch 'at twelve?"  he asked without preamble.

She sank back in her chair and pulled off her glasses, realizing
suddenly that she had a tension headache.  Rubbing impatiently at her
forehead, she sighed.  Arlen heard it.  "What's wrong?"  he asked.

"Not a damn thing," she said, more sharply than she meant to.  "What
could possibly be wrong?"  Other than espionage and an FBI agent who'd
awakened her to things she was better off not knowing about.  An FBI
agent who called her, cool as you please, his tone the politely casual
tone people used with strangers.  His silence suggested to her that he
was evaluating her response.  Suddenly disturbed that he might draw
conclusions, she said, "Sorry, Arlen.  I've got a king-size
headache."

"Have you taken aspirin?"  It was the politely concerned question of an
acquaintance.

Damn it, Jessica thought.  Damn it.  Back to business as usual.  Well,
girl, are you going to let him get away with it?  The question drew her
up short, creating as it did a whole new passel of questions she wasn't
going to be able to answer without a lot of soul-searching.

"Jess?"  His tone had lost a little of its distance.

"I'm here.  Sorry.  Noon is fine for lunch.  I'll be waiting out
front."  If she didn't get swallowed up in the internal earthquake she
felt herself verging on.  "I don't have any thing for you, though."  As
soon as she said it, to kick herself.  He might cancel lunch.

But he~di'dn't.  "I figured you wouldn't.  I've things to talk to you
about, anyway.  Noon, then.

She took the aspirin, but it didn't answer the nor did it help her
concentrate on her work.  herself pacing her office, a not very large
lowed her to take only three steps forcing her to turn.  Here it was,
only the morning, and it looked as if she was done work day.  Well, she
could call security and tell them the document.  If she wasn't going to
work, was no point in postponing it any longer.

But first she was going to think about that question she'd asked
herself.  Was she going to away with this?  On the other hand, how
could s him?  She was no femme fatale to crook a finger a man to his
knees. In fact, the mere notion to laugh.

Arlen had a lot of good reasons for matters between them on an
impersonal thought.  He was acting in a professional was with her, and
she supposed it wouldn't look to his superiors if they heard he was
fooling job.  And if that wasn't enough, there was problem of all: the
wedding band on

On the other hand, there she was.  She'd thing approaching the feelings
he'd stirred in her' kisses.  All the rational arguments for herself or
for him, meant absolutely soul-deep yearning he'd unleashed.

So what was she going to do about it?

thing about it?  She had no feminine wiles aware of, and even if she
could have manufacture~ would have been terrified of using it.  Ten
year a could still hear the laughter of the premed student used her to
do his homework.  The scar was very tender.  Her lack of confidence in
such become an integral part of her nature.

"I heard they can do that, but I never saw them inspect one."

"Me either."  Frank shook his head.  "I guess if you've got any
embarrassing love letters in your desk from that, guy you were with
yesterday, you d bet tar dump 'era."

She saw the twinkle in his eye and decided not to let the comment
bother her.  "Thanks, Frank.  If I ever get him to write an
embarrassing love letter, you'll be the last to know~."

"Thought so!"  Laughing, he moved down the hall to his own office.

Back at her desk, Jessica installed her hard drive, booted up and
resumed her work.  She thought.  she was doing pretty well, too, until
an hour later when Arlen called.

"Lunch at twelve?"  he asked without preamble.

She sank back in her chair and pulle~, off, her gl~se, s".realizing
suddenly that she had a tension neaaacne.  Kuoomg impatiently at her
forehead, she sighed.  Arlen heard it.

"What's wrong?"  he asked.

~,~, thl,o" she said ~aore sharply than she

"Not a , ,

meant to.  What could possibly be wrong.  Other that espionage and an
FBI agent who'd awakened her to things she was better off not knowing
about.  An FBI agent who called her, cool as you please, his tone the
politely casual tone people used with strangers.  His silence suggested
to her that he was evaluating her responSe.  Suddenly disturbed that he
might draw conclusions, she said, "Sorry, Arlen.  I've got a king-size
headache."

"Have you taken aspirin?"  It was the politely concerned question of an
acquaintance.  Damn it, Jessica thought.  Darn~ it; Backto bus'm.  e?
;~ usual.  Well, girl, are you going to let nim get away wttn tt.  The
question drew her up short, creating as it did a whole new passel of
questions she wasn't going to be able to answer without a lot of
soul-searching.  "Jess?"  His tone had lost a little of ~ts dmtance.
"I'm here.  Sorry.  Noon is fine for lunch.  I'll be waiting out
front."  If she didn't get swallowed up in the internal earthquake she
felt herself verging on.  "I don't have any Risks thing for you,
though."  As soon as she said it, she wantl to kick herself.  He might
cancel lunch.  But he~ didn  "I figured you wouldn't.  I've got a fe
things to talk to you about, anyway.  Noon, then."  She took the
aspirin, but it didn't answer the questio~ nor did it help her
concentrate on her work.  She fore herself pacing her office, a not
very large space that lowed her to take only three steps in one
direction befo forcing her to turn.  Here it was, only the middle of t
morning, and it looked as if she was done working for t day.  Well, she
could call security and tell them she'd fou~ the document.  If she
wasn't going to work, anyway, th~ was no point in postponing it any
longer.  But first she was going to think about that surprisi question
she'd asked herself.  Was she going to let Arlen away with this?  On
the other hand, how could she prevent him?  She was no femme fatale to
crook a finger and bri: a man to his knees.  In fact, the mere notion
made her wa to laugh.

Arlen had a lot of good reasons for wanting toke matters between them
on an impersonal footing, s thought.  He was acting in a professional
capacity when was with her, and she supposed it wouldn't look very to
his superiors if they heard he was fooling around on t job.  And if
that wasn't enough, there was the bigg, problem of all: the wedding
band on his left hand.

On the other hand, there she was.  She'd never felt anything
approaching the feelings he'd stirred in her with a kisses.  All the
rational arguments she could muster, eitl for herself or for him, meant
absolutely nothing against soul-deep yearning he'd unleashed.

So what was she going to do about it?  Could she do a~ thing about it?
She had no feminine wiles that she aware of, and even if she could have
manufactured one, s would have been terrified of using it.  Ten years
later.  " could still hear the laughter of the premed student who h
used her to do his homework.  The scar was deep, and s very tender. 
Her lack of confidence in such matters h become an integral part of her
nature.

Arlen had wanted her last night, but that could have arisen from any
number of circumstances that had nothing to do with her, and she was
painfully aware' of it.  She might not have a great deal of direct
experience with human sexuality, but she prided herself on being
well-read.  A woman was wisest not to assume a man's response was a
reaction to her in particular.  Arlen might have been reacting more to
protracted celibacy than to her.

It would have been almost possible to feel pleased with the objective
way she was reviewing the situation, but the bottom line wasn't
objective.  She wanted--very much--to find herself in Arlen's arms
again.  In fact, someplace deep inside, she wanted to weep with the
longing she felt to be there again.

Standing in the middle of her office, she wrapped her arms tightly
around herself and closed her eyes, remembering what it had felt like
for those few short minutes to be enveloped in a man's strong arms.

No, she thought, she wasn't going to let him get away with this.  But
what could she possibly do to beguile him?

There was no answer to that question.  Feeling a sudden need to do
something, anything, productive, she picked up the phone and dialed
Security to tell them she had found the missing document.  Dave Barron,
the Facility Security Of-ricer, was not in, however, and his assistant,
Vicki Grief, was busy with the DIS inspectors.  Having no idea who else
she could discuss the matter with, Jessica decided to wait again.  What
was the rush, after all?  This was almost like closing the barn door
after the horse has gotten out.

Shortly after she finally managed to get her attention back on her
work, a knock at the door distracted her.  Sure it must be Bob, she
called out for him to come in.  It wasn't Bob, however.  It was one of
the plant security officers, and with him were two other men, one of
whom Jessica remembered from the last security inspection.

"Ms.  Kilmer," said the plant security officer, "these gentlemen are
from the Defense Investigative Service, and they're conducting a
routine inspection of security procedures.  Maybe you remember Brian
Earl from the last inspection?"

"Yes, I do, as a matter of fact."  She shook hands with Earl, who was
either the most forgettable guy on the face of the earth or one of the
most memorable she had ever met, simply because he completely lacked
personality.  Until she met him, she would have believed that only
brain damage of some kind could make a person so utterly and completely
bland.

"And this is Dick Hartley, also with DIS," the security officer said.

Jessica shook the second man's hand and thought that he looked a lot
more lively than Earl.  At least he attempted a pleasant smile.

"I'll leave you now," the security officer said and walked out,
closing.  the door securely behind him.

Jessica looked from the closed door to the two inspectors.  Earl
perched on the corner of her desk; Hartley took the single chair.  Did
they know about the document?  Or had they just been sent out here with
no more than a vague warning that something was rotten and had to be
sniffed out?

"Isn't this unusual?"  she asked them.  "I don't remember plant
security evor leaving you folks alone with me before."

"It is unusual, Ms.  Kilmer," Earl said in his ponderous way.  Jessica
invariably found herself wanting to insert words for him just to speed
him up a little.  "This is what we call a Cadillac inspection."  He
gave 'her a smile that looked more practiced than natural.  "Top of the
line."

"Oh."

"Nothing to worry about," Earl continued, just as slowly and blandly.
"It's just something we do from time to time to keep folks on their
toes.  Is your safe open right now?  We'll start with the document
check and then move on to other things."

"Not before I see you riD we won't," Jessica said.  "Very good," the
other agent said, nodding in approval.  "Very good.  Most of your
co-workers haven't asked for our credentials.  You're very alert, Ms.
Kilmer.  Very security conscious."

An hour of that and she thought she was going to lose her mind.  They
went through her safe, checking every single document to ensure that
they were properly classified and filed.  They checked Document
Control's list of the documents she' was supposed to have against the
actual contents of her safe, and she sent a hasty prayer of thankq that
the missing folder was back in place.  She had a feeling these guys
didn't know what had precipitated this investigation but that they were
out for blood.

They inspected her desk, as well, which really annoyed her, because she
kept a number of personal things in there, like a box of tampons and a
spare pair of hose.  It was silly, she told herself.  These were mature
men; they knew about such things.  It bothered her anyway, and then she
discovered that Earl wasn't completely blank.  He blushed when he saw
the tampohs.  That, she thought wickedly, almost made it worthwhile.

And before they left the security officer rejoined them and changed the
combination of Jessica's safe.  It was such a relief to her to have
that done at last that she almost forgot herself and thanked the
officer.  Now, for a short while at least, she wouldn't have to come in
each morning wondering if something else would be missing.  No longer
would ~he have to live with the uneasy sensation that the back door had
been left open and unguarded.

At noon she walked out of the building in the company of Bob Harrow and
Carl Templeton.  As soon as she saw Arlen she said goodbye to Bob and
Carl and hurried forward with a smile.

Arlen was leaning against the side of his car, patiently waiting.  One
of the things he liked to tell young agents when they started to get
restless was that the FBI offered the world's greatest education in
patience.  If you doubt it, he always said, try a stakeout.  He had
been on quite a few stakeouts that had lasted weeks at a stretch.  Some
of them had been spent outdoors in the rain and up to his neck in
poison ivy.  He had, eventually, learned to walt in perfect patience,
particularly when the day was dry, the sky blue and the time frame
set.

As Jessica approached he straightened and returned smile with one of
equal warmth.  Mindful of her two c leagues in the background, both of
whom were frankly watching, he prepared to give her a kiss on the cheek
as had yesterday.

Jessica, however, had different plans.  Instead of try~ to edge past
him to get into the car, as she had before, walked straight up to him.
Clinging to the memory of h~ passionately he had kissed her last night,
she screwed every ounce of her courage.  Halting mere inches from his
she tilted her head back and smiled up at him as she plal her hands on
his chest.

"Hi," she said shyly, and slowly slid her hands up to shoulders and
thence to the back of his head.  Tugg gently, she pulled his mouth down
to hers.

Years spent with the Bureau, years spent-raising ki had made Arlea
nearly unshalmble, but Jessica came pre close to rattling him then.
Having prepared himself only for a brief contact with her, he had no
defense against the luring pressure of her full breasts against his
chest, warm hunger of the mouth that teased his so shyly, or the sheer
pleasure of a woman's hands in his haft.  Suddel surrounded by
enticing, sweet-smelling femininity, he most forgot this was a
pretense.

Kissing Jessica while standing was not likely to beco~ a lengthy
p~time; there was too much disparity in th heights.  He had to bend not
only at the neck but also at t waist to reach her.  Some last vestige
of sanity kept k from lifting her right off her feet and bring' rag her
up t more comfortable height.

Instead, wrapping both arms around her, he bent ] backward, bringing
her entire length into intimate cont with his hard contours.  Breasts,
hips, thighs, even ] feminine mound, were delectably identifiable as he
pres~ her close.

Jessica had one last coherent thought before she v swamped in
sensation: she was playing out of her leagl Then Arlen took control of
the kiss, and the rhythm of thrusting tongue became a pagan drumbeat in
her bloo(

The kiss lasted no more than fifteen seconds.  Though'he came close,
Arlen never quite forgot himself completely.  Lifting his head, he
looked down into Jessica's dazed, flushed face~ At the moment, severe
hairstyle and glasses notwithstanding, she looked adorable.

"Lunch, Jess?"  he asked huskily.

She managed a nod, and a moment later she was in the car with no idea
how she'd gotten there.  Arlen chose a restaurant farther from MTI ths
time.  He wanted them out of the likely range of people they knew,
because he didn't want to risk interruptions or eavesdropping.  Traffic
was heavy, demanding his attention.  It gave Jessica time to think.

It was, she thought, almost a reprise of the humiliating events of her
freshman year.  This time, however, ~d of shyly blushing and accepting
his kisses, she'd ~ walked up to the man and forced him to Idssher.
Admittedly, Aden hadn't laughed at her, but he'd obviously been
unaffected, which was just as humiliating.  Was.  it possible to die
from mortification?  She was begin rang to hope so.

Aden hid it better, but he was struggling with some pretty base
impulses, any one of which would, he was sure, probably cause any
inexperienced lady to reel with shock.  Whatever experience Jessica
might have, he didn't feel it was very much.  Several miles passed
before he felt that he'd damped down on his imagination enough to be
back in complete control.

Glancing over at Jessica, he caught her staring at him.  In the split
second before his eyes returned to the road he read her expression with
ski!  ~ honed by sixteen years wi.  tl~, the Bureau.  In that fi~h he
got a fairly accurate notion o~ now she was feeling, and it was like
another blow to his solar plexus.  He wasn't trying to.  wound this
woman, but it seemed as if he was bound to.  Wherethe hell was some
safe middle ground for them to deal on?  And why did she have to be so
damn vulnerable?

A light ahead fiaslmt to yellow, and Aden braked.  When the car rolled
to a complete stop, he turned and looked at Jessica.  There wasn't a
thing he could say that wouldn't make the situation worse, he realized.
She was sitting them staring straight ahead, cheeks as crimson as if
she were standing naked in public.  And maybe that was precisely how
she felt.  Her lips were pursed p~-my, her hands folded on her lap, and
he supposed that if he could see them her ankles would be properly
crossefl.  Embarrassed, she'd retreated into the old-maid schoolteacher
pose that he suspected was her defense, just as her hairstyle and
glasses were intended to fool men into thinking she was homely.

Somebody, he thought, must have done a number on her sometime or other.
And today she'd probably been making an attempt to step past that, and
somehow he'd managed to humiliate her.  Well, he certainly couldn't
have made love to her on the pavement in front of her office building.
So what the devil had he done wrong?

The light changed, and he accelerated, still wondering.  Had she been
embarrassed because he'd drawn her so close to him?  Somehow that
didn't fit with the way she'd walked~ up to him and tugged his head
down to hers.

Maybe he ought to just ignore the whole thing and let it blow over on
its own.  The prgblem with that was that this lady innocently kept
blowing us objectivity all to hell in the most devastating way.  All
his attempts to keep his distance and remind himself that he was an
agent on a case just withered away when ~he got close.  Somehow he
knew, just knew, he wasn't' going to let this blow over by itself.

"Can you be a little late back to work this afternoon?"  he said
abruptly.

Jessica started and glanced nervously at him.  "That's no problem if
it's important.  I can call in and say something came up, and that I
need to take the afternoon off."

"You won't get into troubleT'

"No."  She looked doubtfully at him.  " " Is something wrong, Arlen?
Has something happened?  "

"That's the question I want to ask you."  He turned the car suddenly,
leaving a little rubber on the pavement as he cornered sharply.  "We're
going to my place for lunch.  If you have any objections, holier
now."

His place.  She'd never gone alone to a man's home before.  The whole
id~ sounded incredibly wicked.  It was also an opportunity she found
herself unable to pass up.  "Is there a reason why I should object?"
Only after she spoke did she hear the flirtatious ness of her words.
Color mounted in her face.

"No," Atica said.  "But if you find any reasons for objection, I expect
to hear them."

Another turn and they were heading across town in the general direction
of the residential area where Jessica's house was.

"I live in an apartment complex only a mile from your house," he
remarked.

Jessica had no idea how to respond to that.  The only thought that came
to her head was out before she could stop it.  "I don't know why, but I
imagined you living in a house."

"I used to.  When Lucy was alive.  Now I have a second bedroom for
Andrew to use when he's home on semester break.  And soon I won't even
need that."

Jessica studied her fingers, hearing the sense of his words as much as
their content.  When she kissed this man;.  when she made her pathetic
attempts to entice him, she was playing with real fire, and she might
get seriously burned.  In his heart he was still a married man, which
meant there was no room for her.  And he kept trying to tell her that. 
He kept trying to warn her, the way he was doing right now. When was
she going to get smart and listen?

"where does Andrew go to school?"  she asked, trying to make it real
for herself.

"The Colorado School of Mines.  He wants to be a mining engine cur and
travel all over the world."

Jessica heard the pride in his voice, and her throat tightened. "Sounds
exciting," she managed to say.  "And your daughter?

"Melanie's a highway engineer.  Right now she's pretty busy on the
improvements they're making to the interstate up north of here."

"You must be awfully proud of them both."

"I am."  He glanced at her, long enough for her to see the truth of his
words in his gray eyes.

His apartment was small, as much as a single person would need and
little more.  He hadn't wasted any time on decorating, had simply
plopped the necessary pieces of furniture where they fit and left them.
It was clean, however, and Jessica might have thought no one lived
here} except for the photographs.  After she called her office to
explain that she wouldn't be back that afternoon, she turned her
attention to the pictures.

Those photos were why he'd brought her here, she realized.  "On the
wall over the sofa, facing the battered easy chair that she suspected
was Arlen's favorite place to sit, were dozens of photographs of his
children, beginning when they were newborns and continuing up to the
present.  Drawn forward, she picked out what must be a recent photo of
his daughter.  Melanie stood next to a huge piece of yellow road
equipment.  She was dressed in dusty khaki and a white hard hat, and
her shirttails hung out.  Turned sideways, she displayed her gently
swollen womb and looked over her shoulder, laughing into the camera.

"Her husband took that last week," Aden said as he came up beside
her.

Jessica took the coffee mug he held out to her.  "Thanks.  She's
lovely, Arlen.,"

"Yes."  He looked at the photo for a moment and then glanced at Jessica
with a smile.  "Lunch won't be much, but I'll have it ready in a couple
of minutes."

"There's no rush," she answered.  "I'm taking time off, remember?"

It was hard to be nervous about being in a man's apartment when faced
with a shrine to his family, like this wall.  The sinking,
butterfly-like feeling that had plagued her all the way here subsided.
Turning, she decided to go to the kitchen and offer to help Arlen.  She
didn't quite make it.

On the table next to the easy chair was a framed color photograph of a
smiling woman.  Jessica didn't have even a moment's doubt: this was
Lucy.  Slowly she sank onto the edge of Arlen's chair and stared.

Lucy was lovely.  Beautiful.  All blond hair and blue eyes, photogenic
cheekbones and perfect teeth.  Even the faint-est hint of crow's-feet
at her eyes only added character and humor.  Jessica had no trouble
understanding how a young Arlen could have tumbled head over heels and
married this woman as soon as he got out of high school.  And she could
understand why nobody else would ever measure up.  Certainly not a
brown mouse.

It hurt, but she.  was used to that particular pain.  It had been part
of her life all the way through high school and into college, and
hadn't gone away until she'd convinced herself that she didn't want men
any more than they wanted her.  Now look at her.  Disgusting.

Rising, she turned her back on Lucy Coulter and marched into the
kitchen, her chin set with determination.  "Can I help?"  she asked as
she rounded the corner.

Arlen had shed his suit jacket and tie, and rolled up the cuffs of his
white shirt to reveal strong, bronzed forearms.  A lock of dark hair
fell across his forehead, and she resisted an impulse to brush it back.
And he still wore his gun.  As he turned a little, she came
face-to-face with reality for the second time in just a few minutes.
The man was an FBI agent.  He wore a gun.  He had a dangerous job.  And
she was just a part of that job.

"Thanimp" he at lid "but I'm just about done.  Why don't you go sit at
the table?"

Looking up with a faint smile, he saw the hollowness in her bright
brown eyes.  It seemed he'd gotten through, but the expected relief was
missing.  Instead he felt guilty, as if he'd just kicked her.  While
they al~ Arlen broached the subject of the espionage investigation that
had been the whole point of meeting her for lunch today.

"Did you ~ security that you'd found the mi.~ing doe " I tried.  They
told me Dave Barron was out sick today, and V'wki C~rier was fled up
with the DIS investigators.  I didn't know who else I should talk to
about it, and then I got tied up myself with the inspection.  "

"Vicki G-rier: She's the assistant facility security officer,

right?  "

Jessica nodded.

"Do you know much about her?"

"Not really.  I don't have a whole lot to do with the security people,
Aden, and she's only been there a couple of months besides.  I've seen
her around, I'd recognize her on the street, but I wouldn't bet she'd
recognize me."

"Okay."  For a minute he didn't say anything, appearing absorbed in his
sandwich.  "All the safe combinations at MTI are going to be changed
sometime today."

Jessica looked at him.  "Mine was changed this morning.  Did DIS find
something to justify ordering the changes?"

"No."  He sighed and pushed his plate aside.  "You'll hear this,
anyway, so I might as well tell you.  Dave Barron committed suicide
last night."

A cold wave of shock washed over Jessica.  In the six years she'd
worked at MTI, she had come to know the facility security officer well
enough to feel horrified at this news.  "You're sure?"  she asked
hoarsely.  "Suicide?"  She'd talked to the man for hours only two days
before.  It just didn't seem possible.

"It looks like suicide," Arlen replied.  "We won't know for sure until
the medical examiner's report is in."

"Was there a note?  Does anybody know why?"

"No note, nobody has a guess."  Arlen's gray eyes settled on her face.
"Because of his position at MTI, the Bureau's taking over the
investigation of his death.  And because suicide indicates a dangerous
emotional instability, DIS has the excuse it needed to see that all the
safe combinations are changed."

Jessica looked at him uncertainly.  "Do you think he was involved in
the spying?"

Arlen shrugged.  "It's anyone's guess.  It's possible, I suppose, that
he was, and that the intensity of the DIS inspection pushed him over
the edge.  It's even more possible that there was something else going
off in his life.  We'll investigate every possibility."  ~

Jessica nodded.  "Are you the one investigating?"

"No.  Phil Harrigan and Ed Marcel are handling that.  They'll keep me
informed, but right now I'm staying very much in the background.  I
don't want anyone at MTI to discover you're hanging around with an
agent."

Jessica's expression grew even.  more uncertain.  "But why?  I'm not
important to anything that's going on.  All I

did was find out that a document was missing.  You're just wasting your
time with me, especially now that Dave's suicide gives the FBI a
legitimate reason to conduct an investigation at MTI.  "

"And you've also been targeted by the KGB."

Jessica gasped.  "The--the" -She couldn't even complete the words.
"Who--how"

Without answering, Arlen pushed his chair back from the table and went
to get the coffeepot.  He filled both their mugs before returning the
pot to the kitchen.  By the time he resumed his seat across from her,
Jessica had collected her wits.

"You're kidding," she said flatly.

"Nope."  Settling back in his chair, he crossed his legs loosely, right
ankle on left knee, and cradled his mug in both hands.  "We did a
little investigating of Dr.  Koster-meyer's grad students.  The one who
approached you was Greg Leong, right?"

Jessica nodded slowly.  "That's right."

"Greg Leong is from Singapore, where he's a member of a Communist cell.
He attended Patrice Lumumba University in MOSCOW before coming here.
What most people don't know is that Patrice Lumumba is a recruiting
ground for the KGB.  Any student who has studied there is highly
suspect.  Combine that with his approach to you at the super market and
there's an extremely high probability that he's making a planned
contact with y~ou."

Jessica was having a hard time grasping that.  "How you find out so
much about him so fast?"

"We've been aware of him since he entered the country a year ago.  This
is the first indication we've had that he might be doing something
other than studying here."

Her eyes were wide as they met his.  "Then the meeting might have been
just a coincidence.  You can't be sure."

"I can't be a hundred percent sure," Arlen agreed.  "But I wouldn't bet
a plugged nickel that he ran into you by accident

But she continued to struggle with the idea.  "It's so unlikely, Arlen!
Things like this don't happen in real life."

Setting his mug aside, he uncrossed his legs and leaned forward.
"Jessie, things like this happen a//the t/me in real life.  That's why
the FBI has a counterintelligence division.  That's why the Defense
Investigative Service inspects contractor facilities and interviews
employees all the time, and always asks if you've had any suspicious
contacts.  Most people think it's paranoia, but believe me, Jess, it's
not.  Approaches are so common in the Washington, D.C."  area, that we
tell people the only way they can avoid being targeted is never to
leave their house.  Out in the rest of the country it's not quite as
bad, but it happens.  It happens more than anyone would ever imagine.
Hell, I was' approached three times when I was stationed in Washington.
"

"Three times," Jessica repeated, trying to conceive of it.  "But you're
in the FBI!"

"That's why they approached me."  He gave her a faint.  smile. "Nothing
ventured, nothing gained.  They use some minor bureaucrat who's about
to go home to make the approach, and when it fails they ship him out of
the country fast on his diplomatic passport.  What you need to
understand, Jess, is that it can happen and it does."

She'd been hearing this in security briefings for six years now.  In
the briefings, however, she'd never quite believed it could happen to
her or someone she knew.  It seemed so removed from daily life.  Yet
here was an FBI agent--the Special Agent in Charge of the local field
office, no less--telling her that it might very well be happening to
her.

"And I suppose," she said, "that you still want me to go along with it?
If it happens."

"Yes.  I do."  His gaze was unwavering.  "It's important, Jessica.  We
have to know who else might be involved.  If there's an espionage
operation in this town, and it appears there might well be, given your
missing document, then we need to discover everyone who's in on it.
Don't you see, Jess, your document and your grad student are probably
only the tip of an iceberg.  A potentially huge iceberg."

Jessica looked from him to her plate, and finally back at him again.
"You promised you wouldn't pressure me on this, Arlen.  I told you, I'm
a mouse."

Leaning across the table, he covered her hand with his.  "Trust me,
Jessie.  You won't be harmed.  That's a promise."

She drew a shaky breath.  "I'll think about it.  I told you I'd think
about it."  But she hadn't been thinking about it.  Once she got him to
drop the subject, she'd dropped it herself.  Jessica Kilmer, double
agent.  It didn't sound like her at all.

She looked down at his hand where it lay covering hers.  It was a
powerful, masculine hand, with a faint dusting of fair hairs, a trace
work of strong veins and long, blunt fin-gets.  And as she stared at
them, those fingers curled around hers, holding them.

"Damn it, Jessie," Arlen said roughly, "haven't you realized how much I
want you?"

Jessica's breath stuck in her throat, and she raised hugo, disbelieving
eyes.  Arlen.  Her lips framed his name, but no sound emerged.  She
would have sworn that her heart stopped completely.

"I want you," he repeated, "but t~hat's all I can you, Jessie.  That's
all I've got left to offer.  So I'd be real grateful if you wouldn't
kiss me again the way you did when I picked you up."  There, he'd said
it.  It didn't ease conscience in the least, but he'd said it.  He'd
warned her no uncertain terms.  ?  ~

Her hand trembled beneath his, and then, with a violent tug, she pulled
it away.  Frantically she shoved her chair back, knocking it over as
she stood.  Arlen stared up at her in astonishment that was soon mixed
with concern as he: saw a tear sparkle on her eyelash.

She was breathing so hard that she could words that were hammering for
escape from her brain.

"You don't--you can't buy my cooperation with' body!"  Turning, she
fled, neither knowing nor where she would go, leaving Arlen stunned
behind her.  What the hell.  ?

She was fumbling blindly at the doorknob when caught her.

"Je~qsie I didn't mean--I never--Damn it, you

"D-don't t-touch mew

What, he wond~ed, had scarred this woman so deeply?  Why did she
believe he must have an ulterior motive for wanting her?  But this was
clearly no time to ask about it.

He touche~!  her.  C~ontly but firmly, he turned her from the door and
hlto his arms.  She raised her fists in a gesture of self-protection,
and her arms were caught between them as he held her snugly against his
chest.  One small fist made a vain attempt to strike at him, to shove
him away, but he ignored it.

"Jessie.  Shh."  He pitched his voice soothingly and held her as she
struggled against his hold, trying ineffectually to free her selL She
didn't stand a chance against his trai~Jng.

Finally a violont shudder ripped through her, and she sagged against
him.  Arlen didn't quite trust her surrender, so he continued to hold
her, rocking gently from side to side, murmuring to her.

"It's all right, Jessie.  It's okay."  He'd missed this, too, he
realized.  He'd missed being able to offer comfort like this.  "I
didn't mean what you thought, Jessie.  Honest to God, I didn't mean it
the way you took it."  ~

"How d/d you m~can it?"  Her voice was smothered but defiant, revealing
he~ distrust.

"I meant it e~actly the way I said it."  Loosening his hold on her, he
urged her to the couch.  Drawing her down beside him, he tugged her
back into his arms, holding her head on his shoulder.  His weapon
proved to be an imray.  diate problem, so he released her for a moment
so he could remove it.

Jessica watched dry-eyed, feeling as if something in her that had been
about to take ~ght had died.

Arlen dropped his gun and holster on the coffee table and then turned
to her.  This lime he didn't take her into his

"Can you listen now, Jess?"

She nodded, refusing to meet his eyes.

"It's just what I told you," he said flatly.  "I want you.  Don't ask
me to explain it, I just do.  You're the first woman I've wanted since
my wife, which is probably why I'm ~ so damn ham-handed about this.  I
don't know how to do it anymore.  And I'm not at all sure I want to do
it, anyhow, wanting aside."

Jessica kept her eyes on her twisting fingers.  "Why not?"  she asked
bravely.

"Because I'm forty-two and you're twenty-six.  You ought to be getting
'involved with some guy your own age who wants marriage and children,
not some burnt-out old guy like me who hasn't got anything to give you
except.  a roll in the hay.  I'm not in it for the long haul anymore,
Jessie.  I've had ray kids.  Now I'm looking forward to my

~'~IorU2~ee~

hours or just a few days didn't seem to matter somehow.  She wanted,
needed, not to miss this.  Not to miss him.  It was as if she knew
somehow that if she didn't seize this opportunity she would regret' it
and wonder about it for the rest of her life.

"Do youg" He rubbed his chin and studied her.  "Why the hell did you
think I was--that I had an ulterior motive for what I said?"

Jessica shook her head and 1ooke~, away from him, too embarrassed to
explain.

"Whoever he was, he must've been a real bastard," Ar-len said.

She didn't answer, but the way she flinched told him quite enough,

And she didn't really believe his reasons, Arlen realized.  She was
hearing them from a level of confidence that was so low that she heard
his reasons as excuses.  How could he possibly deal with that?

There was, he figured, only one way.  He just hoped his self-control
could handle it.  He was being a fool for sure, but this was no noble
sacrifice, either, however he rationalized it.  He wanted this woman
with an ache that went deeper than he dared to think about, When had he
last ached like this?  When had he last felt that he couldn't live
without something?  Too damn many years, that was how long.

'"Come here, Jessie."

She darted him an uncertain look and didn't move an inch, Sighing, he
reached out and took her by the shoulders.

"Come on, honey," he said gently.  "Some things just have to be
proved."

"Proved?"  She squeaked the word as he lay back on the couch in one
smooth movement and pulled her with him so that she stretched,. breast2
to-breast, thigh-to-thigh, on top of him.  Shyness overwhelmed her at
the unexpected intimacy of the contact, and she didn't know what to do.
Closing her eyes as a red tide of color rushed into her face, she
froze and felt Aden remove her glasses.

"Proved," he repeated firmly.  Catching her face between his hands, he
drew her mouth down to his.  "Come on, Jessie," he whispered, the husky
sound sending electricity along her spine.  "Kiss me."

He was already getting hard, an ability he'd begun to think he might
have lost with the years.  Every soft curve of her was pressed again at
him: full breasts, wide hips, soft thighs.  Those hips were wide enough
to cradle a man in -softness, soft enough not to poke at him.  As
Jessica's mouth met his, Arlen ran his hands from her shoulders to her
rump and quite brazenly pulle~l her hips harder again~qt his.

"Feel that, Jessie," he whispered.  "Feel what you do to me."

She shuddered with longing.  iThe heat he'd been stirring in her from
the moment of their meeting burst into instant conflagration. His-mouth
claimed hers, or hers claimed his.  She couldn't tell and didn't care
as their tongues dueled.  Again and again Aden broke the kiss to allow
them both to gulp air, and again and again he tugged her mouth back to
his, kissing her as if kissing were the end in itself, as if it were
all he wanted and all he needed.  Deeper he delved, until she pulsed to
his rhythm and made heated little sounds, moving helplessly against
him.

"God, Jessie!"  Tearing his mouth from hers, he pressed her face to his
shoulder, holding her as she rocked helplessly against him, inflaming
him further as she responded to impulses and drives that were written
in her genes.

And all kinds of thoughts that Aden would have been sure must shock a
lady came racing to the forefront of his mind as he realized that
Jessie was a passionate woman.  He told himself to resist, not to
offend her or shock her, but somehow he moved her to the couch beside
him anyway.  Somehow he was raised on an elbow over her, and somehow
they were both struggling to remove her suit jacket.  And somehow his
hand was touching the top button of her black blouse.  No, not
touching.  Unfastening.

Jessica drew a sharp breath and held it as her heart stopped.  Hearing
the sound, Arlen looked up at her, 'his arm resting between her
breasts, his fingers frozen on the second button.

Her face was flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes bright, very bright.
"Arlen?"  Her voice sounded far away, as if it came from someplace out
among the stars that were beckoning to him.  Her entire universe,
however, had focused on the hand that hovered over that next button, on
the ache in the breasts his arm lay between.  Clothes constricted,
suddenly a travesty of nature.  Nerve endings sizzled with ex uisite
awareness.  She felt as if she needed to turn inside out n order to
satisfy her wild longings.

He meant to stop, to say something nice and hold her until they came
back to earth and safety.  He meant to stop before she had anything to
remember that might embarrass her.  He opened his mouth to say the
nice, gallant thing, but what emerged was a man's hoarse plea.

"Let me, Jcs~," he said thickly.  "Please let me."

Chapter5

He was giving her a chance to draw a line, but Jessica didn't want to.
Time hung suspended, and for an endless moment she honestly believed
she would die if he didn't proceed.  She had never imagined how
overwhelming, how single-minded, such desire could be, but she was
fully in its grip now.

A breath escaped her in a shuddery sigh, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Thus encouraged, Arlen's fingers released the second button and then
the third.  Time continued to stand still for Jessica.  A languorous
expectancy filled her as her attention grew narrower and narrower.  No
one had undressed her since childhood, yet the anticipated shyness and
embarrassment failed to materialize, held at bay by the profound,
pulsing need that filled her.

The last button' yielded, and this time it was Arlen who sucked in a
deep breath.  Drawing Jessica's head onto the arm on which he was
propped, he bent and kissed her deeply, stoking the fires even as his
free hand began to gently separate the silky black material.

And then his fingertips brushed against the bare skin of her midriff.
Jessica stiffened and gasped, her mouth breaking from his, and Arlen
raised his heaO?

"Easy, honey.  Easy."  He dropped a kiss on her cheek, then one on her
chin and another on her throat, on the pulse that throbbed frantically
there.  Her arms lifted, her fingers clutched at him, helplessly
beseeching.  A pleading murmur escaped her.

"Yes, Jessie.  Yes."  His voice was a throaty whisper as he looked down
at her and discovered she wore not the plain white nylon or cotton
undergarment he expected, but instead wore shimmering black lace.  It
was a garment meant to entice, and it told Arlen a great deal about
her.  He hesitated only a moment before his own need drove him to reach
for the front clasp.  This and no more, he promised himself.

Her eyes flew open as he released the clasp and her breasts spilled
free of their confinement.  She saw him looking at her, but instead of
embarrassment she felt a clenching thrill.  "Arlen?"

The faint, ragged whisper drew his eyes to hers.  "You're beautiful,
Jessie," he said huskily.

The truth was plain in his eyes, and Jessica felt a smile of sheer
pleasure tug the corners of her mouth upward.

"I want to touch you.  Kiss you," he said roughly.

Oh, God, she thought she would die if he didn't!  She'd never imagined
her breasts could ache, actually ache, to be touched.  "Please," she
whispered, unable to find her voice.  "Aden, please."

Hardly daring to believe she meant it, he cupped pale, pink-tipped
mound in his large hand.  A soft moan escaped her, and she~ turned into
his touch, seeking much more.

"Like that?"  he asked softly, wanting to make her feel what she was
making him feel.  She was so responsive, eager, and he wanted to give
her only good feelings, wonderful feelings, dizzying, marvelous,
passionate feelings.

"Mmm."  This time it was nearly a groan as she pressed herself harder
against his hand.  She didn't know how to ask for more, or for what she
really wanted--if she was even sure what that was.  All she knew was
that the warmth of his callused palm cradling her breast was like a
taste, a hint.  of what "Arlen!

The soft cry conveyed both her pleasure and her frustration.  Hearing
it, Arlen dared more.  Boldly now, he rubbed her swelling nipple with
his thumb, watching it engorge further, feeling Jessiea's restless
movements as her hunger grew.  Her hand clutched at his shoulder,
tugging, and he understood with a sense of wonder that this lady wanted
what he wanted to give her.  All thought of stopping fled as.  he drew
her nipple into his mouth and sucked.

Jessica groaned deeply, and her hands clasped Arlen's head to her,
encouraging, pleading.  Wires that stretched from her aching breasts to
her womb seemed to draw tighter each time he sucked on her, and soon
she was rolling her hips helplessly, needing more, so much more, yet
wanting him never to stop:

"He moved to her other breast, teasing and tormenting her there, too.
His hand slid downward, gliding beneath her skirt and drawing it up
until he was able to slip a leg between hers, into the heated cradle of
her thighs.  Jessica's hips pitched against him, unleashing his own
groan.  When he felt her legs part even more in receptivity, he moved
between them, resting on her, pelvis to pelvis.  Only thin layers of
material separated them.

What the hell was he doing?

The question penetrated the pleasurable haze that was absorbing him. He
gasped, trying to gather himself to move away, when Jessica's eyelids
fluttered and her hips gave a maddening upward roll against him.

No, he thought, not like this!  Not like a kid in the back seat of a
car.  Hell, he hadn't even done this when he had been a kid!  Both of
them were clothed, but layers of fabric that should have been a barrier
were merely a minor irritant at this point.  He was lost already, his
hips rocking slowly and deeply against hers, knotting his insides with
aching hunger, causing him to moan as her hips moved in perfect
counterpoint.  Hungry.  She was as hungry and needy as he, Arlen
realized.  He could have.  her, fully and completely, right now.  All
he had to do was strip away the last layers of their clothing.  But,
damn it, he wasn't going to do that.  He wasn't going to take advantage
of this woman's vulnerability.

"Arlen!"  Jessica cried out in fright as strange, uncontrollable
feelings of painful pleasure gripped her, clenching her insides in a
vise.

He had more control than she, and he understood far better what was
happening.  Caught in the grip of a battle against his own mounting
passion, he nevertheless heard her fear and understood it.

"It's okay, Jessie," he whispered on short gasps of air.  "Let it
happen.  Just let it happen."  Sliding a hand beneath her hips, he'
encouraged her movements against him.  Whatever his serf-denial cost
him, he couldn't leave her hurting like this.  "Raise your knees,
Jessie."

She did, then cried out as the throbbing ache intensified even more
pleasurably.  She clutched at his shoulders, then at his head, holding
him closer, closer, loving even the starchy rasp of his shirtfront
against her swollen breasts.  So good, so good, she thought dimly, and
wondered fearfully if she would make it to the place her every cell
seemed to be straining toward.

And then she found it in an explosion so intense that a keening cry
escaped her.

Hearing it, he clutched her close and battered back his own passions,
refusing to give in to himself.  Not like thi.  ~. No way.  But dan re
He felt as if he was going to explode.  Drawing one deep, steadying
breath after another, he held perfectly still, afraid the least
movement would shatter the last thread of control.  Forever.  It took
forever.

Arlen levered him.  elf carefully off her.  Reaching out, he drew her
blouse closed over her breasts, then tugged her into the circle of his
arms, tucking her head onto his shoulder.  She lay there without
resistance, a welcome soft warmth against him.  From time to time an
aftershock shook her, a small trembling that arched her slightly,
pressing her breast and belly even closer.

Arlen held her close, inhaling her fresh fragrance, feeling the soft
silk of her hair against his chin, guiltily savoring the physical
closeness despite the torment it had cost him.  He'was finding it
difficult to deal with the mental image he had of what had just
happened.  He was lying here,

fully clothed including shoes, with a young woman whose blouse was
unbuttoned whose skirt was wrapped around her hips, and whose shoes
were presumably still on her feet, too.

It sure as hell didn't fit with his idea of proper behavior for an
agent on a case.  And it made him grin with a kind of sheepish
amusement.  There must be life in the old boy yet if he could still
carry on like a teenager.

Still, he felt he owed Jessica an apology for letting things get so out
of hand.  She was bound to feel embarrassed by what had happened.  When
her head stirred against his shoulder, he looked down at her and found
her smiling shyly up at him.

In that moment he understood that she would be embarrassed only if he
implied there 'was something wrong in what they'd done.  The apology
he'd formed died unspoken, and instead he bowed his head to gently kiss
her swollen, smiling lips.

"How do you feel, Jessie?"

"Mmm."  A sound like a purr passed her lips, and she snuggled closer,
enjoying the intimacy of being held this way by Arlen.  He smelled so
good, soapy and musky, and felt so hard, warm and strong.  Shyly she
reached out and' ran her palm over his shirtfront, stroking from the
center of his chest to his stomach.  Just as she reached his waist,
Arlen caught her hand and held it.

"Witch," he said, surprising her with his warmly laughing tone.  He
turned and drew her even closer, confining her hand between their
bodies.  "You're going to' start more trouble."

Jessica glanced at him from beneath her lashes, feeling more attractive
and more like a woman than ever before in her life.  "Is that so bad?"
'

That was when Arlen knew he was in real trouble.  The rules had been
broken, a line had been crossed, and there was no going back.  The hell
of it was, there was no going forward, either.  Somehow he had to make
Jessica understand that, and he had to do it without wounding her, a
feat that would be even more difficult because of what they'd just
done.

"Jessie..."

Jessica tensed.  She heard it in his voice and knew he was once more
go' rag to tell her there was no future, that this never should have
happened.  She closed her eyes and thought of the wedding ring he still
wore, of the photos on his wall and beside his chair.  She thought of
each of the things he used as a talisman against involvement and
realized that he needed such defenses only because he had once been so
devastated.  To be desolated in such a way, a person had to be capable
of great love.

He was afraid, she thought.  Afraid of the pain and loneliness he'd
suffered because of his wife's death.  He simply didn't want to run the
risk of going through that again.  Having cobbled together some kind of
a life on the ashes of his old one, he wanted to be left undisturbed in
the peace he had managed to make for himself.

Jessica understood all too well.  She, too, had managed to build
herself a relatively safe and comfortable life, and she, too, was
reluctant to risk it.  Her insides fluttered fearfully at the mere
thought.  Intuitively', however, she understood that she would have 1
if she was to get anywhere at all with who would have to step off the
cliff first.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, forestalling the difficult
speech he was trying to formulate.  "It's okay.," she said.  "You don't
have to explain yourself all over again, Arlen.  I understood the first
time."

His gray eyes looked into hers penetratingly, as if he could see past
iris and pupil to the thoughts behind.  "Do you?"  he asked roughly.

"Absolutely.  I feel exactly the same way myself."

His hold on her relaxed a little, but his expression remained doubtful.
 "We need to talk about this, " Jess.  "

"Why?"  But she instinctively understood that, as

Too much had happened.  He simply couldn't let it lie any more than she
could.

"We just do," he said firmly.  "But not right now.  Believe it or not,
I'm supposed to be working.  And I have to get back to the office
before the afternoon is over."

SeYious Risks

He pushed himself to a sitting position and looked down at her, taking
in her unbuttoned blouse and the wrinkled skirt that was still tangled
around her upper thighs.  In spite of himself, he ran his hand along
the silky smoothness of her nylon-clad leg.  His entire aching body
responded in a flash.  Idiot!

"I have to take you back to get your car," he said after a moment.  "Is
it all right if I come by your house this evening

"Of course."  Suddenly, miserably embarrassed, she sat up, clutching at
her blouse and tugging at her skirt.  "But

I'd really rather not get my car right now.  I'll call a cab to take me
over there tomorrow.  I'm such a mess "

Feeling like the worst kind of heel, he realized he had to do something
or Jessie was going to leave here feeling used.  Steeling himself
against his body's inevitable reaction, he caught her face between his
hands and leaned forward to kiss her gently on the lips.  And then he
uttered the truth.  "You're damn near irresistible, Jessie Kilmer. 
What the hell am I going to do about you?"

Having the afternoon off gave Jessica an opportunity to finish
straightening up the living room as well as time to unpack the boxes
Arlen had carried upstairs--was it only last night?  She sat back on
her.  heels and stared blindly at the box she had been unpacking.  Was
she losing her ever-loving mind?  Was she actually trying to figure out
how to hold a man she had known for less than forty-eight hours?  And
what had happened this afternoon in his apartment.  !  Memory turned
her cheeks crimson.  She had heard kids talk about doing that in high
school--she could even remember the term they had used--but she was not
in high school.  She was supposedly a mature adult!  A groan escaped
her, and she pressed~ her palms to her hot cheeks.  Her active
imagination had little difficulty painting a vivid picture of the two
of them on his couch a few short hours ago.  Closing her eyes at the
image, she nearly died from the embarrassment even as her body betrayed
her by clenching pleasurably.

It was silly to feel embarrassed, she told herself.  What they had done
had just.  happened.  It had been a natural outcome of natural
feelings.  Arlen hadn't been embarrassed by it.  Not at all.  So she
didn't need to feel embarrassed, either.

Besides, she thought as her lips curved upward in a shy but satisfied
smile, she would never have imagined or even dreamed that it was
possible to feel like that.  She had ~r-tainly never before understood
how it was possible to forget caution, modesty and good sense.  And now
that she had, she wanted to do it again.  Soon.  With Arlen.

In a burst of girlish exuberance, she threw herself back on the rug
beside her bed and flung her arms wide.

All right, she told herself daringly, it was great.  Fantas, tic.
Embarrassment aside, she wouldn't have missed it for the world.  She
had liked all of it, especially being held.  It felt different to be
held by a man.  There was a whole range of feelings to the experience
that she struggled to find definitions for, feelings that were quite
apart from the sexual arousal.  And there were so many impressions to
remember, sensations that had no words to adequately describe

With just the slightest effort, she was able to vividly remember the
texture of his faintly scratchy cheek against hers.  The way it had
felt so right and comfortable to rest her head in the hollow of his
shoulder, to rest within the shelter of his arms while she had been
so--face it, Jessica--completely and utterly vulnerable.  With just
that gentle embrace he'd made her feel absolutely safe, as if she could
without fear relax her guard and lower her barriers.  As if she could
safely bare her soul.

Somewhere, she found herself thinking, she'd missed the realization
that a man.  could make her feel safe.  On the rare occasions when she
had noticed a man as a man, she had felt more threatened than anything.
Somehow Arlen had never made her feel that way.

Of course, she told herself, staring up at the ceiling, maybe that was
part of his training.  Maybe FBI agents took a seminar called "How to
Inspire Trust."  The notion made her laugh.  It was a fact, though,
that government agents pretty much looked as if they sprang from the
same mold.  Six years with a major defense contractor had brought her
into brief contact with inspectors from several different investigative
branches.  Arlen fit the mold in his conservative suit and neatly bar
bared hair.  His restrained manner and politeness, too, were a copy of
every other agent she'd met.  Some had more personality than
others--Arlen certainly had lots of personality--but otherwise you
Could almost always spot a government agent just by the way he looked
and acted.  Especially in this Texas city, where only bankers and
federal agents actually wore suits.  Around h~ere, dressing up meant a
white shirt with your jeans, or at best a sports jacket and slacks.  It
was as if government agents all strove very hard to present an
inoffensive, pleasant, courteous exterior that would arouse dislike in
no one.

However, Jessica thought, the blandness must be deceiving.  People
didn't join the FBI by accident.  Agents obviously selected the career
for a reason, and she suspected it wasn't to become another gray,
faceless clone in an army of clones.  That image, she thought, was a
kind of camouflage.  She would willingly have bet that beneath that
facade there beat the heart of a James Bond.

What of it?  What difference did that make?  what mattered right now
was that this particular agent had locked himself inside an emotional
shell, a shell that she had no bus' mess disturbing for her own
frivolous reasons.  At this point, the only thing she had any right to
want was a chance to get to know Arlen, and a chance for him to get to
know her.

And he was probably going to make dam sure they never had the chance.
That had certainly been part of the speech she had managed to
forestall.  In fact, something about the way he had looked at her when
he dropped her off here made her think that he was going to find a way
of avoiding her as much as possible.  He was going to put a
professional distance between them somehow, because what was happening
between them was troubling his conscience.

which brought Jessica around to something even more troublesome.  After
just two short days and a few very short

go meetings, she felt a peculiar hollowness in the vicinity of her
breastbone when she thought of never seeing Arlen again.

She couldn't possibly feel an emotional attachment for a man she had
just met--could she?

No, of course not.  Love at first sight was a romantic myth based on
hindsight, not foresight.  An abiding love had to grow slowly, had to
be nurtured gently.  The first-at traction was pure chemistry, nothing
more.

But, oh, what chemistry!

Jessica sat up and crossed her legs, aware that her heart was beating a
nervous tattoo in time with the butterflies flitting in her stomach.
There was only one way to get the chance to know Arlen.  Anything else
would fail, she was sure.  In her heart, she knew he was coming to see
her to night only so he could ask her one more time to act as a double
agent if the opportunity arose.  If she refused yet again, he would say
goodbye and mean it.  Aden Coulter would turn and walk out of her life
for good.

So what?  she asked herself.  Even if she did agree to be come a double
agent, even if Oreg Leorig actually asked her to pass classified
information, what difference would it make?  She would get to know
Arlen better, and he would get to know her, but that wouldn't transform
her from an ugly duckling into a swan.  She had her share of good
points, but none of them made her attractive as a woman.

Arlen might come to actually like her--people d/d like her--but he
wasn't about to fall madly in love with her.  So why bother to take the
risk in the first place?

Licking her suddenly dry lips, Jessica looked down at her hands and
listened to the thunder of her heartbeat.  It would be a double risk,
really, being a double agent and exposing herself to the possibility of
heartbreak.  She didn't know which frightened her more.

But perhaps there came a time when sensible, cautious, safe
alternatives no longer sufficed.  Perhaps there were times when one had
to accept a dare.  Perhaps that was the only difference between living
life and living death.

And that was why she was going to go after Arlen Coulter.

During his senior year in high school Arlen had every spare minute of
his weekends and evenings rep ai cars.  He worked out of the back lot
of the tenement w he lived with his father, charged a little less than
es lished garages and built up a thriving business.  By the gust before
his senior year he was able to afford his he desire: a Harley Davidson
chopper, a marvelous chr{ and-black-metal machine that roared down the
highwa] upstate New York like a bat out of hell.

Motorcycles of any kind weren't a common sight it small agricultural
town where he grew up.  A Harl~ spired fear and anger in the older
folks, including hi coholic father and Lucy's parents.  Going to hell.
was Lu father's opinion of Arlen al[ter that, a downward ste[ Arlen,
who up until that point had been ranked slig above thieves and mass
murderers.

Lucy had claimed to understand his love for his bike, she would never
get on it, and she begged him not to ri anywhere her parents might see
him.  Within reason i complied, but after his return from XSetnam he'd
give~ riding it entirely.  Somehow, when he looked at his daughter or
at his wife's stomach, swelling with their: he had felt it was
irresponsible to ride that bike.  Irres: sible to take such unnecessary
risks with his neck, hi: and his livelihood.  Two children and their
mother pended on him, and in that moment of understandin had shrugged
off the last remnant of childhood.

Ever since, Aden had cherished his bike the way a lector cherishes a
priceless car.  He moved it whereveJ Bureau sent him, and kept it
polished and in mint condition.  Every couple of months he would pull
it out garage, turn the engine over and listen to the full-thro roar. 
And then, after washing, waxing and tuning it Ul would wheel it back
into the garage.

When Arlen arrived-home that afternoon he was thing it was time to take
the Harley out again.  Tomorrow morning, he decided.  Maybe he would
even ride it.  If~ thing happened to him now, both Melanie and were
capable of taking care of themselves.  No more guilt that score, Luce,
he said silently to his wife's portrait as he tugged off his tie.

~Turning toward the bedroom, he paused midstep and stared at the couch.
Some traitorous part of his mind presented him with a clear picture of
how Jessica Kilmer had looked lying there just a few short hours ago.
No, damn it,

he didn't feel guilty about that, either!

But he wouldn't risk the chance of a recurrence.  And he would be
damned if he was going to waste any more time reminding himself of all
the reasons why he couldn't allow things to get out of hand again.

He changed into jeans and a black turtleneck pullover and tugged on his
black boots.  Maybe he would get the

Harley out of storage tonight, he thought as he micro waved a frozen
burrito.  Maybe he'd ride it over to Jessi ca's; The evening was dry,
cool but not too cool.  A good night for a bike ride.

By the time he peeled out of the Texan Self-Store parking lot, the sky
was a carpet of stars.  The Harley growled powerfully beneath him, a
primitive, potent throb.  Arlen wished for open, empty roads stretching
ahead like rib bons in the moonlight.  '

Instead he drove directly to Jessica's house, determined to make one
more bid to convince her to act as a double agent if Greg Leorig
approached her again.  He also, he thought uncomfortably, had to find a
way to make sure that she didn't feel he had used her this afternoon.
It certainly hadn't been his intent, but he could see how that might be
difficult to believe.  A man just shouldn't get that intimate with a
lady unless he wanted'a future with her.

Jessica was in her kitchen making a fresh pot of coffee when she heard
the motorcycle pull up in the driveway just outside the kitchen door
where she usually parked her car.  She recognized the distinctive growl
of a Harley immediately-her college roommate's boyfriend had owned
one--and her first thought was to escape.  She didn't know a soul right
now who owned a motorcycle, and no well-intentioned stranger would pull
up to her back door like this.  Her head full of disconnected images of
violence drawn from movies, she hesitated just long enough for Ar len
to reach the back door.  The inner door was open, and he peered in
through the screen.

"Jessica?"

She whirled around, hand flying to her throat.  "Arlen!

My word, you scared me!  "

"Scared you?"

He almost scared her now, she realized.  The FBI agent had completely
vanished.  At her back door stood an outlaw in snug jeans, motorcycle
boots and-a leather bomber jacket.  His neatly barbered hair was wind
tossed and wild, and there was a strange silver gleam in his gray
eyes.

"Jessie?  What's wrong?"  He pulled the screen door open and stepped
into her kitchen, a frown knitting his brow.  "What happened?"

"What happened?"  she repeated.  "What happened?"  Indignation began to
fill her breast, largely because she now felt foolish for being
frightened.  "I'll tell you what hap-pen call She crossed the kitchen
and poked her index finger at the center of his chest, which was right
on her nose level.  " I was standing here, minding my own business,
when suddenly a motorcycle pulled up to my back door.

Not my front door, mind, where most guests arrive, but my back door.
And who, I wondered, could possibly be pulling up to my back door,
unless he meant something.  something.  "

"Unsavory?"  Arlen suggested, beginning to grin.  "Something violent
and bloody right out of a horror film?"

"Yes!"  She tipped her head back and glared up at him.  "No one,
absolutely no one, expects an FBI agent to arrive on a Harley
Davidson!"

"I'll grant you that," he agreed, his grin broadening.  "Used to be we
had to drive four-door American sedans: These days they let us drive
anything.  Fools the KGB every time."

Jessica blinked, forgetting her annoyance.  "What fools the KGB?"

Arlen moved before he could stop himself and brushed a stray tendril of
silky dark hair back from her cheek.  "The KGB thinks all FBI agents
drive four-door American-made sedans.  There was a time when that was
true, but not any mol~.

"Sometimes it works in our favor.  A few years ago a colleague of mine
stopped off at a convenience store on his way to work, some little
place on the ~Virginia side of the Potomac.  He noticed a car with
Russian embassy plates in the parking lot and got suspicious, because
it was well out of the usual stompiug grounds for embassy personnel. He
followed the car for miles, and the Russian never suspected he was
being followed because my friend was driving a Honda hatchback.  Turned
out the Russian was going out to pick up a drop from a spy, and because
of that little incident we got tipped to quite a large espionage
opera-lion."

Jessica searched his face.  "You're not.  serious

"I'm perfectly serious, Jessie.  Truth is strauger than fiction.  I've
got loads of stories like that."

"Tell me another one," she suggested hopefully.  She liked this side of
him, she thought.  She hadn't reali?  ~l before that he was a man who
could see the ridiculous side of a job he clearly believed to be
important.  He was smiling that crooked smile right now~ and it reached
all the way into the depths of his gray eyes, easing a tension there
that she only recognized now that it was absent.

"Well, I can tell you about the two would-be spies who called the
Secret Service in the middle of a Saturday night to announce they had
possession of a Top Secret document that they would be quite happy to
give to the Secret Service for the sum of twenty thousand dollars.
Otherwise they'd sell it to the Russians."

Jessica's eyes were huge.  "What happei~ed?"

"The Secret Service agent argued that he couldn't possibly get twenty
thousand dollars and talked them down to five thousand.  Then he talked
them into wait' rag until Monday to make the exchange, because he had
to get to a bank for the money.  The two guys agreed, and the agent
called the FBI.  We got the money and arrested the guys as soon as they
made the exchange."

Arlen shook his head, still smiling.  "I can tell you even less
believable things.  Take the CIA employee who worked in communications
but really wanted to be a secret agent.  The CIA didn't think he had
what it took, so this fellow set out to prove he d/d.  He sat down next
to a perfect stranger in a Georgetown bar one night and offered to sell
him a highly classified document."

Jessica was shaking her head in disbelief.  "And?"  she demanded.

"And the guy he spoke to was an 17131 agent from the Criminal
Investigations Division."

"No!"  Jessica shook her head again.  "No."

"Yes."  Arlen chuckled.  "Needless to say, the agent set up the
exchange for the next day, and as soon as the document and money
changed hands, we arrested the SOB."  Jessie looked cute, Arlen
thought, as she stood there torn between disbelief and amusement.
Finally her laughter won.  It was when she laughed that he realized she
wasn't wearing abra under that loose red blouse.  His groin
tightened.

"I'm sorry I scared you," he said fibruptly, his own humor fading.  "I
just never thought about it.  I haven't ridden that damn bike in over
twenty years, and tonight just seemed a perfect evening to try it out
again."

Jessica moved around him and flicged on the back porch light so she
could peer out through the screen at the huge black-and-chrome bike.
"She's a beauty, Arlen" she told him sincerely.  "Why haven't you
ridden in so long?  Have you kept that same bike all this time?"

"I've had that same bike since I was seventeen."  He came to stand
behind her and looked out at the Harley.  "I haven't ridden it since I
came back from Nam."

"why not?"  Jessica twisted her head to look up at him over her
shoulder.

He shifted uneasily.  Some things just weren't easy for a man to say
out loud.  "Riding a bike is a foolhardy risk for a man with a
family."

"And now your family's grown," she remarked.  "That's right."

She spun around and looked shyly up at him from beneath her lashes,
unaware of how flirtatious she looked.  "What does a lady have to do to
get a ride on that bike?"  Herheart practically climbed into her
throat, but she had promised herself she was going to take this chance,
that she wasn't going to let this man walk away without at least
putting up a fight to get his full attention.  Darn, being a double
agent couldn't possibly be half this nerve-racking!

For a moment he didn't answer.  His eyes swept over her face, absorbing
every detail, from the smooth, shell pink of her cheeks to the long,
thick lashes shadowing her bright brown eyes.  Wasn't he supposed to be
restoring this relationship to a more businesslike level?  }nstead~he
felt he was entirely losing his grip on matters.

Finally he answered.  "A lady needs a helmet," he said, and immediately
wanted to kick himself as his mind filled with a lush image of Jessica
clinging to his waist from behind, her thighs pressed against his, her
breasts crushed against his back as they roared down the road.

"You couldn't be persuaded to overlook the helmet just once?"  she
asked.

Arlen shook his head, his eyes locked on hers.  "Sorry.  The law says
you have to have a helmet, and I wouldn't take the risk with you,
anyway, Jessie.  No way."

She sighed, clearly~ disappointed.  "I always wanted to ride on a
Harley."

"Tomorrow," Arlen heard himself say.  "Tn get youa helmet and give you
a ride over to MTi to get your car.  How does that sound?"

The shy smile rammed to her face.  "You really wouldn't mind?"

Yes, he would, some rational part of his mind pointed out.  He would
mind it a whole hell of a lot just as soon as Jessica was mounted on
that bike behind him.  Hell, he was minding it just thinking about how
it would feel.  "No trouble," he said firmly.  "Maybe we'll even detour
onto some country roads if the weather is nice enough."

Jessica clapped her hands together in frank delight.  "Fantastic!"

Her eyes were positively shining as.  she looked up at Looking into
them, Aden could feel all his resolut weakening.  Maybe he should
assign one of the other ag to this case.  Maybe he should walk out that
door right and never look back.  And maybe he should just give up thank
God that Jessie Kilmer had walked into his life.  cause, painful though
it was, he couldn't regret wakinl from the numbness of the past few
years.  Conscience as job aside, everything aside, at this moment he
was d~ glad to be alive.

Jessica heard the hiss that always signaled the co maker had finished
brewing.  Embarrassed to suddenl) alize she had been staring at Aden,
she took a quick s ways step and hurried 'across the kitchen.

"Coffee's ready," she said brightly.  "Would you like some?"

"Yes.  Please."  Her back was turned toward him as busied herself with
the cups, and Arlen took a morner collect himself.  He should have come
over here wearing a suit and driving the damn sedan, he told himself. 
Get on the bike had been a big mistake, because it had made him feel
young and hung:y and a little sad, almost exa the way he'd felt at
seventeen. Restless and emp~, as if lost something important and
couldn't quite rein era what it was.  Luce had quieted those feelings;
that was main reason he'd married her.

"Why don't we go sit in the living room?"  Jessica gested.

Arlen nodded agreeably and accepted the cup of co she offered him.
Following her out of the kitchen, ac] the entry hall and into the
living room, he listened to clomp of his boots on her bare wood floors
and won de if he were suffering from some sort of mid life crisis.  W
Jessica perch-x] on the couch he promptly took the a chair, setting a
safe distance between them, a distanc which the coffee table served as
a boundary.

"Okay," she said and set her cup on the table.  "Okay?"  he repeated
questioningly, "Okay what?"

"Okay, I'll do

The cup paused on its journey to his mouth, and his gray eyes narrowed.
"Spell it out, Jess.  You'll be a double agent for us if the
opportunity arises?  Is that what you mean?"

Twisting her fingers together, she nodded.  "Yes.  I will.  If you're
sure there's no real danger.  I'm a coward, Arlen.  I kid you not.  If
things get scary, I'll fall to pieces."

He leaned forward, placed his cup on the table and resl~i his elbows on
his knees, hands dangling loosely between his thighs.  "It'll be
nerve-racking at times, Jessie.  I won't kid you about that.  But it's
not dangerous.  Never, ever, has anyone been hurt while acting as a
double agent for us.  In fact, I'll go even further than that.  Foreign
intelh'gence operatives have never, ever, harmed a U.S. citizen on U.S.
soil."

"Never?"

"Never."  His gaze was steady and unwavering.  "These operatives aren't
thugs who're been dug up out of the gutter, you know.  They're the best
their countries have to offer.  They're highly educated, politically
savvy, very decent, very dedicated people."  He gave her his crooked
smile.  "In fact, the only difference between most of them and most of
us is ideology."

"You talk like you know them."

"I know quite a lot of them.  In Washington we all attended the same
parties, and we talked shop with one another."

Jessica kicked off her shoes and curled her legs beneath her.  "So
there's no danger at all?"  she asked, feeling inexplicably
disappointed.  Good grief, she didn't want to be in any danger--did
she?

"What do you want me to say, Jessie?  Nobody can guarantee the future
one hundred percent.  There's always a possibility that things could be
different just this once, but it's a slim one.  The thing you really
need to understand is that the opposition stands to lose more than it
could ever gain if it hurt you.  In order to get Americans to cooperate
with them, they have to be able to make them feel perfectly safe.  How
can they do that if they act like thugs?  Who would ever spy for
them?"

Serious Rides 99

She searched his face, more because She was hungry to look at him than
because she thought she would discover some hint that he was being less
than honest with her.  He wasn't a conventionally handsome man, but she
wouldn't have found him attractive if he had been.  "Okay.  It's not
dangerous."

"You won't be doing this alone, Jessie," Arlen said, hearing an
uncertain note in her voice.  "The only time you'll be on your own will
be the next time Leong approaches you--if he does.  Once he's
introduced an agent to you, they won't take you by surprise again. Each
and every meeting will be arranged in advance and designed to gain your
confidence."

"How can you know that?"

He couldn't hold still for-another second.  Conflicting impulses pulled
at him, tugging him this way and that, and there wasn't a one of them
he could heed--because, damn it, he was on a case, and he needed this
woman to act as a double agent.  He could neither reach out and haul
her into his arms nor stride from the house and ride his Harley into
emotional oblivion somewhere out on the interstate.

Arlen rose to his feet with a quickness that deprived the movement of
any nonchalance.  Watching him pace around the living room, Jessica was
reminded of a caged lion.  She had sensed his tension the instant he
had walked through her door, and she had the distinct impression that
he was growing less relaxed by the minute.

"I can be sure," Arlen said in answer to her question, ~'because once
the agent is introduced to you, one of his primary tasks is going to be
getting your complete trust.  He's going to want you to feel as safe as
a baby in a cradle around him, and he can't achieve that if you get
surprised in any way.  He'll know, though; that you aren't going to
pass classified information to someone you don't trust.  "

Jessica folded her arms beneath her breasts and shook her head.  "It's
absurd to discuss trust and treason in the same breath."

His mouth framed one of his crooked smiles, but he never paused in his
restless circumnavigation of her living room.  "I doubt that'll be the
last absurdity you encounter."  He thrust his hands deep into his
pockets and paused before the fireplace to study the framed miniatures
on the mantelpiece.  "Are all these folks your family?"  They were all
old pictures, many from around the turn of the century, but there was
no other common thread to them.

"None of them are family.  I. picked them up in various antique
shops."

Why ?  He almost asked the question, then caught himself.  An
investigator's natural curiositY could too ms' fly lead him to ask
questions that shouldn't be asked.  Which reminded him.  Turning, he
faced Jessica.

"There are two things I wanted to tell you," he said.  She watched him
draw up in some inexplicable way.  It was almost as if he somehow
closed up on himself to come the clone again.  Suddenly his rough
motorcycle clothes looked like a costume, and Arlen Coulter looked
every indh the FBI agent.

"First," he said, "Vicki G-tier called the Bureau this afternoon to
report that Barron had been investigating yo0r missing document just
prior to his death.  She reported it stolen."

Jessica sat up straighter.  "She did?  How did she know?  She didn't
come with Barron when he talked to me, and he was convinced it was just
mislaid."

"Evidently he had a few doubts about that, because he started writing a
report that concealed none of the facts, and that included all your
statements about being sure it had been there the night before.  Grier
came across the port this afternoon when she was looking through
Barron's office for some other paperwork.  She called us right away."
'

"Did you tell her I have the report?"

Arlen shook his head.  "I don't want anyone to know you're involved
with the Bureau except possibly on a personal level, remember?  I
didn't say a thing about it.  You call her on Monday and tell her you
found it.  At this point, she's certainly not going to believe you
mislaid it, so don't worry about it.  And she'll keep quiet about the
incident because I asked her to."

Jessica was dismayed to realize her main reaction t of this was
jealousy.  Vicki' Grief was a lovely woman hair the color of
sun-drenched honey and a figure Je could have achieved only through
major plastic sur She was also unattached and closer to Arlen's age.
"Y~ sure she's trustworthy?"  As soon as the question esc her, she felt
like a jealous vixen and was embarrassed 1

Arlen noticed that Jessica's bright eyes seemed to little, but that was
none of his business, so he didn't as professional distance.  He would
keep it if'it killed fin

"On this, at least.  Otherwise she wouldn't have callea Bureau.  It
would have been the easiest thing in the for her to disclaim all
knowledge of the missing doc un since it's apparent that Barron hadn't
told anyone before he died.  Which is another odd circumstance."

"It sounds as if Barron may have been involved in somehow," Jessica
said.

"Well, that's what's odd about it," Arlen admitted.  the one hand, he
was writing a report that would see~ indicate he was on the up-and-up.
On the other, he di mention the missing document to his assistant.  "
shrugged and shoved his hands into his pockets, ten ing'himself not to
talk too freely.  Details of any investigation were confidential.

"The other thing," he said, "is that we did a BI--k ground
investigation--on you."

"Me?"  Startled, Jessica stiffened.  "What kind of ground
investigation?"

'~Something like what you had to go through to get l Top Secret
clearance, but we didn't go into as much d~ since your clearance r<ord
contained most of your history.  A credit check, Jess.  That kind of
thing.  "

"Did you find out anything interesting?"  she asked His smile didn't
quite edge past the corners of his mo "Depends on what you mean by
interesting, Jessi learned that you invested a huge portion of your
savinl this house, and-that some people could conceivably ti you might
be strapped for cash."

Jessica gasped.  "That's not true!"

"I didn't say it was.  I said it could be construed that way.  That may
be one of the reasons you've been targeted--they think they might have
a lever."

She was outraged.  "You mean these... these foreign agents on find out
about my finances?  About things like that?"

"All they have to do is check with a credit bureau.  Any car salesman
can do that on the PC at his desk, Jess.  What makes you think the KGB
or any other intelligence group is going to be able to do any less?"

He spoke reasonably, but he understood her distress.  Most people
didn't think about things like this, even when they went to buy a car
or a house.  It never occurred to them that anyone could find out these
kinds of intimate details, or that the information could be used for
unsavory purposes.

She looked up at him, and there was something almost hurt in her
expression.  She had lost a little of her innocence.  "Do you think
that's why Greg Leong approached me?  Do you think I'm strapped enough
for cash to sell out my country?"

"God; no, Jess!"  He shook his head.  "Of course I don't.  I'm just
telling you what may be behind this recruimaent attempt.  That's all.
They may think you might be interested in making a little money, that's
all.  They're always on the lookout for something like that."

He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.  "Want to hear an ironic
story?  At least, I've always thought it was ironic.  Probably the most
ironic case I've ever worked on, and I've worked on more than a few."

Distracted from her unhappy realization that there was no such thing as
privacy, Jessica nodded~ "Sure."

"A naval officer in the Washington area found himself seriously short
of money.  The'details don't matter, but he needed twenty five
thousand, and he needed it fast.  He happened to know a naval attache
at the Soviet embassy, so he arranged to meet the guy for lunch.  And
he asked the Soviet to set up a meeting for him with a KGB official."

Arlen shook his head.  "Would you believe that the Soviet offered to
lend the American the money?  Would you believe he told the American, "
You really don't want to sell out your country for money.  "" Arlen
shook his head yet.  again.  "It's small wonder the other side thinks
Americans.  will do anything for a little money.  They see ns do it all
the time."

He looked down at her sitting there all curled up, arms folded beneath
deliciously full breasts, feet tucked up under her.  His groin stirred,
and some traitorous portion of his mind reminded him that this
delectable morsel of a woman had welcomed his advances only a few hours
ago.  Upstairs there was a white satin comforter .  Hell!  He still
didn't know what she looked like with her hair down.  He couldn't
possibly be contemplating that degree of intimacy with a woman whom
he'd never even seen with her hair down.

Oh, yes, he could, some un deluded corner of his mind acknowledged. The
problem was that he was a gentleman, and a gentleman didn't take
liberties like that with a lady.  And Jessica was a lady.

Having Succeeded in making himself feel guilty, he was' able to pick up
his jacket and pull it on.

"I'll come by in the morning," he said, moving toward the door.  "Is
nine too early?"

"No?  Disturbed by his abrupt departure, she unfolded herself and rose
to her feet.  " Nine is fine.  But I can call a cab, Arlen," she
said,~making the offer even though she didn't want to.  " You don't
have to go out of your way.  "

He managed a fleeting smile, "No problem, Jessie.  It's my fault your
car.  is at MTI.  Besides, I promised you a ride on my bike.  See you
in the morning."

He was gone before she could say another word.  Whatever had gotten
into him?  she wondered.  The silent, empty house offered no answer.

Chapter 6

Jessica stared at her reflection in the full-length mirror and
acknowledged glumly that no amount of wishing would make her look
really good in jeans.  There was sun ply too much of her to ever
achieve that long, lean look for which jeans were meant.  Still, she
couldn't very well wear anything else on a motorcycle.  She compromised
by selecting an oversize blouse that would cover her below her hips. 
Sins that couldn't be banished could be hidden.  Her hair, as usual,
she pulled into the seve?  e chignon she'd been wearing since she
turned sixteen and discovered a need to be taken seriously.

The March day was turning into one of those spectacular days that were
so common this time of year in central Texas.  The sun was warm,
steadily burning off the night's chill, and the temperature promised to
hit a-perfect seventy-five or eighty degrees.

A perfect day for a picnic, she thought.  It had been ye~.  rs since
she'd gone on a picnic.  There was no point in going on one alone, and
these days all her friends were married or getting married or living
together.  There was, she freely admitted, nothing as boning as
somebody else's twosome,

and nothing as boring to a pair as a single friend.  But, oh, how nice
it would be to go on a picnic.

Nice or not, however, she didn't have the nerve to suggest it.  She'd
used up every bit of her nerve and self-confidence last night when she
had asked Aden to give her a ride on his bike.

Arlen was resigned, after struggling with himself haft the night, to
the intimacy he was going to have to endure with Jessica today.  He
had, after all, promised by implication to take her out tiding in the
countryside today, and the weather obviously wasn't going to give him a
convenient excuse.

Standing on her back porch, looking down into her smiling, eager face,
he decided there could be far worse fates than spending a chaste day
with Jessica.  There was, for example, the fate of spending a gorgeous
Saturday alone with himself.

"Why don't we go on a picnic?"  he heard himself suggest out of the
clear blue sky.  Coulter, you're losing your mind, he told himself. But
he watched the smile widen on her lovely face, and saw the color bloom
in her cheeks, and some part of him decided he wasn't losing his mind,
after all.  Hell, maybe he was finally becoming sane.  "A picnic would
be nice, don't you think?"

"I'll need to stop at the store," she said in what she hoped was a
cheerfully brisk ~tone.  She absolutely didn't want him to guess how
much that simple invitation meant to her.

"No problem," he said.  "What do you like to take for a picnic,
Jess?"

"Cheese and crackers?"  she suggested tentatively.  "I don't know.
Whatever sounds good to you.  They have a nice dell at Corbett's."

"Let's go look, then."  Taking her elbow, he drew her down the steps
'to the Harley.  She looked good, he thought in spite of himself.  She
fairly glowed with health and vitality, and her hair shone in the
sunlight.  He noted the oversize blouse and, with the wisdom of a man
who'd been married for better than twenty years, he knew immediately
why she was wearing it.  The understanding tugged at him in an
uncomfortable way.  Damn it, he found himself thinking, this was the
lady he'd twice lost his control over, something he hadn't done in bet
too than a quarter century.  This was the lady he'd all but made love
to on his couch yesterday because she was so damn sexy.  And she
believed.  Hell's bells, he couldn't even complete the thought, it made
him so damn mad.

Grabbing up the helmet he had bought first thing this morning, he
turned and settled it on Jessiea's head.  It was one of the souped-up
helmets with a faceplate and chin guard, and he'd selected it because
riding a motorcycle was dangerous even when driven by skilled hands. If
anything happened, that helmet would be Jessie's only protection, and
he wasn't going to risk her lovely face.

"Does it feel okay?"  he asked her as he straightened it and reached to
fasten the chin strap.

"I guess."  She laughed, a small, breathless sound.  "I've never worn a
helmet before.  I don't have any way 'to judge."

His mouth pulled into one of his ere eked smiles.  "It should feel
snug, but it shouldn,t hurt."  He tugged on it a little.

"Snug," she said, "and it doesn't hurt.  It ~okay, I guess."

He showed her where to put her foot, warned her about the hot exhaust
pipes and helped her onto the bike.  Jessica sat on the broad saddle
and reached behind her, trying to hang on to the metal backrest.

"Uh-uh,-Jess," Arlen said.  Reaching around, he tugged at one of her
hands and guided it to his waist.  "Hang on to me," he said.  "I want
to know exactly where you are.  And when I lean, lean with me, even if
your instincts say to go the other way."

"Okay."  Excitement and a little fear had her heart flut-tooing wildly,
and her mouth was getting as dry as a bone.  She couldn't remember ever
having done anything this.  dating before.

When Arlen had strapped his own helmet on, he kick, started the Harley,
then settled back onto the saddle.  "Hang on, Jess," he shouted over
the bike's roar.

Obediently, she leaned forward and wrapped hex arms around his waist.
She tried to hold on loosely, but as soon as the bike started to roll
forward she tightened her grip and pressed herself snugly up against
Arlen's back.

Yep, he thought, it was going to be sheer hell.  Jessiea's thighs
embraced his intimately.  He tried not to think about which part of her
anatomy was cradling his tush.  How, he wondered, could a man of
forty-two be so damn horny?  He was sure he hadn't been this
consistently hot since his early twenties.

The Colbert's Supermarket wasn't far, and it was with relief that Arlen
pulled into a parking slot.  How the hell was he going to handle this
all day?  Five minutes had just about turned him into a raving maniac.
He would have to call off this outing.

But Jessica was smiling brightly when he helped her out of her helmet,
and her eyes were glowing with excite meat He doubted he'd seen a
happier face since first thing on Christmas morning when his kids had
been little.  Nope, he was just going to have to rely on good sense and
self-control to get him through this one.

"That was fantastic!"  she enthused as he reached out to steady her.
Swinging her leg over the bike wasn't hard, but her foot slipped.

He caught her.  It was either that or let her fall to the pavement. His
hands snatched her tight under her arms, and he hauled her up against
his chest.  Hard met soft, and the world spun away with dizzying
speed.

"Jessie..."  Her name slipped past his lips on a barely audible sigh.
He looked down into her brown eyes, eyes that seemed to glow with their
own inner light.  He felt his body tightening, swelling, hardening, for
her, even as something deep inside seemed to open wide to the warmth of
her light.  God, she was soft.  so soft.

With a boldness that astonished her even as she did it, Jessica reached
up and captured Aden's head, slipping her hands into his soft hair,
tugging his head down to her.  Intuitively, she understood that he had
to know that she wanted this, too, that he wasn't somehow taking
advantage of her.  "Please," she whispered.

A cat's backfire jolted him back to reality.  They were standing in a
parking lot, for crying out loud, and he'd forgotten that simply.
because he was holding her.  This lady was dangerous.  Carefully he set
her on her feet and stepped back.

He also realized he had given her the right 'to demand his kisses.  He
had given her the right yesterday on his living-room couch.  And
somehow he didn't want to take it back.  Damn it, she was making him
feel desirable.  Deskable and alive.  ~

"Later, bright eyes," he heard himself say.  Reaching out, he cupped
her cheek briefly, gently.  "Let's go get our picnic."

Later.  Jessica hugged the word, felt her heart leap 'at the promise.
Then Arlen took her hand, and she was sure she was walking on air. What
had happened to all his resistance?  What had changed his mind?
Glancing sideways and upward, she' studied him profile as they entered
the store, but there was nothing there to illuminate the change.

Arlen grabbed a hand basket from the stack just inside the door.
"Crackers and cheese," he said.  "What about some wine?  Do you like
wine?  Any particular kind?"

Jessica, who'd had a glass of wine exactly twice in her sheltered life,
both times in the company of her girlfriends, thought it sounded
romantic, but she frankly didn't like wine.  "Get whatever you like,"
she said.

Gray eyes settled thoughtfully on her face.  "You don't like wine, do
you?  Be honest, Jess."

"Not really," she admitted.  "But if you like it"

His crooked smile reappeared, one co ruer of his mouth tugging upward,
the other tugging down.  "I'm driving, remember?  t won't drink
anything, anyway."

They were rounding the corner at the end of an aisle, headed.  toward
the cheese counter, when Jessica nearly trip pea over her own feet.
"Arlen!"  she whispered and quickly darted down another aisle, dragging
him with her.

He was quick, mentally and physically.  His work required it, of
course, but he'd been blessed with more than average abilities in those
departments.  Most would have started demanding to know what was going
on. He simply followed swiftly, allowing Jessie~ ~ take her evasive
action without hindrance.  Questions wait.

Halfway down the aisle, she stopped.  Pulling him her over to the very
edge of the aisle, she faced him.

"It was him," she said breathlessly.  Her heart was h{ roe ring fit to
burst, 'and she felt as if all the air had v ished.  This was it, the
moment she hadn't really believed "Him?  Leong?"  She nodded.  "No
doubt?"

She shook her head.  "It's him.  I'm sure of it."

She was still clinging to his hand with a drowning ma grip, so Arlen
wrapped his other arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.  To
hell with what people through

"Will you be all right, Jess?"

"She nodded.  " In a minute.  Just a minute.  " She expected to feel
nervous if this moment came, but hadn't expected to feel so frightened.
Resting her eh against Arlen's chest, listening to the creaking sound
of leather jacket as he moved his arm to rub her backsoc ingly, she
felt the fear subside to a tolerable level.

"Nothing's going to happen, honey," he was sayi "This is a public
place.  What can he possibly do?  Besid he's just a student."

Besides, Jessica, thought, you're here.  That thought her more courage
than anything.  "I'm okay."  She would have been happy to let him hold
her like this forever, bu just wasn't possible.  Taking a deep breath,
she stepped b~ and met Arlen's eyes.  "Let's go see if he says
anything."

He touched a finger to her cheek.  "Are you sure ab this?  You don't
have to."

"I said I'd do it and I will."  She squared her should visibly.

He smiled faintly.  "Gutsy lady..  I'll hang back so I de keep him from
speaking to you.  I'll only be ~a haft steps away, Jess."

"What's he going to do to me?"  she said, managinl nonchalant shrug.
"Public place, right?  Plenty of peo around, right?  My own personal
G-man nearby, right?"

Arlen chuckled.  "Right."

He stationed himself at the head of the aisle, pretending a fascination
for seven or eight different kinds of rice.  From there he watched
Jessica walk over to the cheese counter.

Greg Leorig, instantly recognizable from a photo Arlen had managed to
get his hands on, stood only a few steps farther away, at a table of
baked goods.  It was apparent to Arlen, who'd spent more time on
stakeouts than he wanted to recall, that Leong was on a kind of
stakeout himself.  He looked bored and not at all interested in baked
goods.  He was no more going to buy an angel food cake than Arlen was
going to buy rice.  In fact, "Leorig was so obviously waiting for
something or someone that Aden dismissed any possibility that the man
was an agent himself.  Leong's actions were clearly those of an
amateur.

Jessica was a lot more believable, possibly because she really was
buying cheese.  She was mulling over two brands of Edam when Greg
turned away from the cakes and spied her.  At once his face brightened
and he wasted no time but approached her immediately.

"That rice you're holding doesn't taste as good as this brand, young
man," said a gray-haired lady on Aden's right.

He glanced at her sensing that the quickest way to deal with her was to
agree.  " '~You're absolutely right," he said quickly and exchanged the
package of rice he was holding for one 0f the brand the lady was
pointing out to him.  "Thanks."

Now he had to move or look suspicious.  What was it about supermarkets?
he wondered.  Dressed as he was, no woman in the world would have
ventured to speak to him except here in a supermarket.  In the past
four years he'd learned that it didn't matter how disreputable he might
look.  Let him linger over the produce counter or hesitate over ~e
cleaning supplies, and some woman would immediately advise him.

Giving the helpful lady a smile, he moved aroun0 the end of the aisle
and reigned an interest in angel food.  Leong was saying something to
~Jessica, and she was smiling, nodding pleasantly.

Arlen picked up a cake and sauntered over to them.  Now, he decided,
was as good a time as any to establish his and Jessiea's supposed
relationship.  That way, he could be with her whenever it seemed
necessary without being out of place.

"Hi, Jessie," he said as he reached her side.  She jumped visibly,
startled by his approach~ She hadn't ex~ him to take part in this.
Covering, Arlen quickly slipped his arm around her.  "Is something
wrong?  Is this guy bothering you?"

"Bothering me?"  she repeated blankly.

Clearly, Arlen thought, joining these two had not been one of his
brighter ideas.  Hell, he should have guessed he would rat He Jessie.
But she surprised him then, looking first at him and then back at
Leong.  He could almost see her brain slip back into gear.

"No, he's not bothering me," she said swiftly.  "Oreg is one of
Professor Kostermeyer's students.  You remember Kestermeyer, Arlen?"

"Yeah, sure," he agreed, and started to smile.  The smile evidently
reassured leong, who had started to back away.  The younger man
returned the smile.  Aden offered his hand.  "Arlen Coulter."

"Greg Leong," said the student in crisply British English.

Arlen looked down at Jessica.  "You about ready, Jess?"

"In just a minute."  Darn, the palms of her hands were damp, her mouth
was as dry as cotton balls and at the moment she didn't know who was
making her more nervous, Aden or Leorig.  "Greg and I were talking
about getting together for lunch next week."

"Oh?"  Arlen looked at Leong.

Leorig nodded quickly.  "Yes.  I wished to ask Ms.  Kil-met for some
more details on the paper she published last year regarding external
heap sorts.  A brilliant algorithm, but there are a few details I wish
to clarify, if she will be so kind."

All of which was out of Arlen's bailiwick.  "She's the person to ask,
all right," he said easily.  "I'll get that cheese,

Jessie.  " Giving Leong a nod, he turned and moved a little farther
down the counter.

Looking down at the cheeses, Aden listened as Jessica and Leorig
arranged a lunch date.  Deciding he couldn't decide, either, he
snatched up a piece of cheese at random and stuffed it into the basket
with the rice and the cake he didn't want.  Weird picnic stuff.  He
looked back just in time to see Leorig walking away.  Jessica turned to
him.

"I did it," she said, and expelled a long, relieved breath.  "Let's
talk about it later, Jess," Arlen said.  There was always a possibility
that Leorig hadn't come here alone.  Someone else might have
accompanied him solely for the purpose of "making" Jessica--in other
words, having Leorig point her out to him!  That was often the case
when an approach was made this way.  Even though the contact was
completed now, that person might still be watching.  Jessica was
willing to follow his direction unquestioningly for the moment.  After
all, he was an experienced agent and she was a software engineer.

Instead she asked, "Why in the world did you get a bag of rice?"

Arlen shrugged.  "There was this lady--never mind.  You'll never
believe it."

"And a cake.  Do you like angel food?"

"I can't stand it."

"Then why... ?"  Looking up at him, she let her words trail off.  There
was a very definite sparkle of humor in his gray eyes.  "Never mind,"
she said.

"It's too damn sweet, to be honest about it," he said cordially.  "I'll
take a devil's food cake any day.  But I picked it up, so I'm buying
it, just like I'm buying the rice.  Do you want any kind of cheese
besides Edam?"

Between them, they chose two more cheeses, and then they had a friendly
wrangle over what kind of bread they should buy.  Aden contended that
no Texan knew the true meaning of French or Italian bread, and that he
wanted no part of either.  It would have to be rye bread or nothing.
Then he spied the fried chicken, and she watched in silent dismay as he
bought some.  Her mind was totting up calories so fast that she felt
she ought to run before it was too late.  Cheese was sinful enough. How
had she gotten into this?

"So tell me, Aden," she said as they walked back out to the parking
lot.  "Where do we put this stuff?"  She couldn't imagine how she would
hang on to him and two plastic grocery bags at the same time.

"Voilh!"  With a key and a flourish, he open era compartment beneath
the seat and amazed her by being able to fit everything into it with
ease, except the cake, which he ruthlessly flattened.

"Okay, Jessie," he said, once again putting her helmet on her head and
fastening it.  "Let's go tear up the roads."

It might have been years since Aden had roared down an open country
road' feeling wild and free, but those years rolled back that morning
as if they'd never been.  For nearly three hours he drove them along a
maze of ranch roads and farm-to-market roads that led them deeper and
deeper into the hill country.  ~

It was after noon when he slowed the Harley down and pulled over
beneath a shady live oak tree beyond which a creek could be seen
bubbling along.  Past the creek them was a barbed-wire fence, and
beyond that were a few rio zero placid-looking cows.

Arlen looked more relaxed that~ Jessica had ever seen him.  A big, flat
table of limestone rose from the creek bank, carved out by many years
of spring floods.  He discarded his jacket and stretched out on the
rock in a puddle of sunshine.

Pillowing his head on his hands, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply.
"Heaven," he said.  And it was.  Years and tensions, griefs and angers,
all the baggage he'd been carrying for so long seemed to have blown
away.  It was just simply, absolutely wonderful to be alive on such a
perfect day in such a perfect place, doing exactly what he wanted to,
no more and no less.

It was heaven, Jessica thought.  Free for the first time in their brief
acquaintance to feast her eyes on him, she sat cross-legged beside him
and did just that.

Powerful biceps stretched the short sleeves of his black T-shirt, and
his strong, bronzed forearms bore a fretwork of powerful veins.  Where
his T-shirt met his jeans, his stomach and abdomen were entirely flat.
He was no body builder, but he obviously took care of himself.

Sighing, she rested her chin on a raised knee and tried not to look any
lower.  Her eyes were in no mood to behave, however.  They continued
their journey, studying the pew-earful thighs that were cased in snug
~ienim and brazenly noting the bulge that lay between them.  Remembered
feelings from yesterday began to tingle through her body.

Arlen's voice startled her, causing her cheeks to flame and her gaze to
dart guiltily to his face.  Thank goodness his eyes were still
closed.

"You're meeting Leong on Monday?"  he asked lazily.  "Mmm-hmm.  We're
having lunch at the Corner Pub."

"Vll make sure one of my agents is there, Jessie.  If Leong introduces
you to someone, we'll want to get a make on him so we can ID him. Maybe
we can track the whole thing down before you get much more deeply
involved."

"That'd be nice."  She suppressed ~an urge to reach out and touch him.
"You know, you really knocked me for a 10op back there when you came up
to join us.  I wasn't prepared for that."

"Yeah."  His voice was deep and lazy.  "A m'~scalculation on my part."
He opened one eye and regarded her with evident amusement.  "I'm so
used to working with pros, I

forget you amateurs are easy to rattle.  "

"Why, you"

Laughing, he reached up and covered her mouth with his hand.  "Uh-uh,
Jess.  You don't want to say things like that to your personal G-man."
Idly, his fingertips stroked slowly across her lips.  He felt her catch
her breath, and something inside him caught, too.  "You were great,
Jessie Honest to God, you were great.  I'm sorry I rattled you, but you
handled it like a pro."  He dropped his hand and closed his eyes.
again, feeling he'd handled about all he could for the moment.  Too
much more and he would b~ making love to her right here on this damn
rock.

"Why did you come over, anyway?"  she asked him.

"Because it occurred to me that it might make sen~ establish our
relationship."  He shrugged one shoul without opening his eyes.  "It
may never be useful, but t] again, maybe it will he.  It just seemed
like an opportm I shouldn't pass up."

But Leorig seemed a long way away right now, and questions that had
been bouncing around in her head w] they had first left the supermarket
were starting to t definite second place to the feelings Arlen was
evokinl her just by being here.  She turned a little and stretched, on
the rock beside him.  Her breathing grew noticea deeper as she closed
her eyes.

"You getting hungry, Jessica?"  HIS voice had gro even deeper, lazier,
almost drowsy.

"No.  You go ahead if you want.  Leong was waiting; me, wasn't he?" '

"Mmm-hmm.  People are pretty dependable.  I'd be wing to bet that you
go to the supermarket every Satur{ morning."

Jessica turned her head enough to see Arlen's proi from the corner of
her eye.  "Are you saying I'm predictable?"

"Hell, Jess, we all are.  Habit is the cornerstone of ~ man existence.
When I'm working on an investigation, t first thing I do is learn my
subject's habits.  That fills about ninety percent of his time, and
I'll always kn~ where to look for him."

Something icy prickled along Jessica's spine.  "You' saying someone has
been watching me.  Learning my ha its."

"Looks that way," he drawled.  '

All the lazy restfulness she'd begun to feel.  vanish Someone had been
watching her, watching her close enough to learn her habits.  "Arlen?"
Her voice sound~ thin.  "I don't like the sound of that."

"Nobody would, Jessie."

"After a reluctant moment~ l turned his head in her direction and
opened one eye.  Fining her stretched out beside him, her breasts in
enticing s houette, was exactly what he'd hoped to avoid.  Deep in ~
center, a slow, steady throbbing began.

He tried to be reassuring.  "I'm sure they ~tidn't watch you all that
closely.  They were primarily interested in finding out when you went
regularly to some public place where Leong could pretend to bump into
you.  I'm sure they didn't look any closer than that.  They really
didn't need to."

"Except for my finances.  You said they'd probably looked into those,
too."  She kept her eyes closed, refusing to look at him for fear she
would throw herself into his arms.  None of this was fair, she found
herself thinking.  Here he was, right beside her, and she couldn't take
advantage of his strength.  She didn't have the right ~o turn to him
for.  comfort, and she didn't have the courage to turn to him for
anything else.

"Probably.  Look, here's the likeliest scenario.  Somebody at MTI is
already working with them.  Hepassed some kind of information to them
that got them interested in your project.  They did a financial check
on the members of your team and found, 1o and behold, that you'd just
dumped the major part of your savings into an old Victorian house that
probably needs mega bucks worth of repairs.  They figured there was a
possibility you might be interested in quick, ..~y, money.  Making
things even.  easier they found that you d already met one of the
students they keep tabs on, so they had an easy introduction.  Hell,
maybe they even arranged for Leong to be introduced to you by
Kostermeyer.  It wouldn't be difficult."

"Jessica nodded, not at all sure how much of this she really believed.
It was all so far removed from reality--her reality.

"So," Arlen continued, "they sent somebody to park across the street
from your house on weekends and figure out your routine well enough
that they could arrange for Leong to bump into you casually in a public
place."  He closed his eyes again and tried to ignore a certain
demanding throb.

"You've done things like that, haven't you?"  she asked.  "Sure," he
drawled drowsily.  "Any teenage girl with a crush can tell you how easy
it is to meet someone if you 'really want to."

"I never had a crush."

"I know, Jessie," he said softly.  "You're as fresh as spring
daisies."

She didn't quite know how to take that remark.  Open-~mg her eyes a
little more, she turned her head for a better look at him.  His eyes
were wide open and silvery as he looked straight at her.  "Arlen?"

The uncertainty in her voice was his undoing.  He was a sucker for this
woman's vulnerability, for her absolute need to be wanted and needed.
How could he refuse, when he could make her feel good, make her feel
desirable and attractive'?  How could he deny her anything it was in
his power to give her so easily?  How could he decline-to give what he
so badly wanted to give?

He rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand.  "Do you want
to sleep or eat?  Or do you want that kiss I promised you?"

Her breath caught in her throat, and her lips parted in unconscious
invitation.  In her neck, a pulse began to beat visibly.

"Jessie?"  But he didn't wait for her answer; he didn't need to.  He
cupped her cheek with his hand and rubbed his thumb gently along her
lower lip.  "Lady," he said quietly, "you are so damn sexy."  And that
was the understatement of.  the year.

The cynical, sensible, FBI-trained portion of his brain told him that
he would regret this.  It warned him that he was letting his hormones
rule him, that just as soon as he was satisfied he was going to feel
like a seducer of virgins, like the world's greatest sleaze.  And then
that cynical, sensible portion of himself shut down, washed away ina
rising tidal wave of long-unsatisfied hungers.  Damn it, Coulter, be
honest about it.  You want this woman like you've never wanted anything
before.

She looked UP at him with a sweet trust that both tore at him and
warmed him.  She lifted a hand, tentatively, shyly, and cradled his
cheek.  All the liking he'd begun to feel for her rose in a rush and
added a new dimension to his des ira

He did not think of himself as desirable, as attractive to women.  He
had attracted only one woman in his life that he knew of.  If there had
been others, he had certainly never noticed it.  From the moment he met
Lucy, other women had ceased to exist.  Until now.  Until Jessica.

And Jessica was touching his cheek as if she longed to touch him in
other ways but didn't quite dare, looking at him as if she needed him,
sighing as if she were being transported by the simple touch of his
thumb to her lip.

Bowing his head, he found her mouth with his.  She welcomed him
immediately, lips and teeth part' rag readily for his invasion.  Sweet.
She tasted so sweet, so warm, so alive!  And she kissed him back,
thrilling him with her.  response, her eagerness.

Little sounds escaped her as he took her head in his hands, cradling it
to protect it from the hard surface he-neath as he deepened his kiss.
He let her catch a quick breath, and then he dived again, needing the
heat, the welcome, the shy enticements of her tongue.

Somehow her hands found their way under his shirt, and she caressed the
bare skin of his lower back.  They both froze at the exquisite
sensation, gray eyes boring deep into brown ones, two people caught
between one breath and the next.

How long had it been, Arlen wondered, since last a woman had touched
him in need?  How long had it been since he'd felt a woman's hands on
his skin?  How long since he had taken the time to satisfy a need of
his own?  Years.  It had been too many years.

"Jessie."  He whispered her name raggedly.  "I'm being selfish."

Swollen pink lips smiled at him.  "Mmm.  Me, too."  Daringly, she ran
her hands up his back as high as the shirt would allow her.  "You have
such warm, smooth skin," she murmured.  She wished her palms could soak
up the feeling and permanently imprint it on her brain.  Why had she
never imagined how exquisite it felt to touch another person's skin?

Arlen shuddered and shifted, drawing her head onto his forearm,
inadvertently pulling her hands around to his front.  "Jess, don't," he
mumbled as she explored the hard, flat plane of his stomach.

"Don't you like it?"  she asked shyly, her hands pausing.

"I love it," he growled, then cursed his own truthfulness as she took
him at his word.  "Honey... not here.  Anybody could come along the
road .... "

Jessica heard him, and some part of her even acknowledged the justice
of his warning.  Shawas, however, caught up in the awe-inspiring magic
of her woman's ability to arouse a man.  She'd never dreamed that she,
Jessica Kil-mer, could make a man tremble, could cause a man to groan
and shudder as if from an internal earthquake.  Nor had she ever
suspected how good it could make her feel to bring pleasure.

"Jessie..."

"We'll hear if someone comes," she murmured, shifting still closer to
him.  Her own hungers were steadily building, growing from tingles to
throbs, from era ring to an ache.  Whatever good sense she might have
was rapidly drowning~ in all those wildly new sensations.

"Oh, damn," he groaned and rolled onto his back, carrying her with him
so that she lay sprawled across his chest, her tempting, tormenting
hands caught between them.  He couldn't let this go any farther because
it could end up being the most awful experience of her life.  She had
no notion of how she would feel if someone did come upon them, but he
could guess.  And more, she deserved a better, safer setting, a calmer
lover and plenty of time.  He had to be strong for them both.

"Jessie," he muttered.  "Jessie, honey.  Later.  Later.  Okay?"

"No."  Her voice was muffled against his shoulder, and he felt her
stiffen against him.  "No."  -.

His sigh was nearly a groan as he battled for restraint, control and
sense.  "Why not?"  he asked.  "What's wrong with later?"  He sounded
impatient, which wasn't bad, considering.

"You'll change your mind," she mumbled.

A smile caught at the corners of his mouth and tugged them upwards.
Suddenly he didn't feel anywhere near so impatient or frustrated.
"We'll see about that," he said.

After lunch Arlen felt drowsy, surely the fault of a nearly sleepless
night spent wrestling with himself.  When he caught Jessica smothering
a yawn, he lay back on the rock and patted his shoulder.

"Use me for a pillow, Jessie.  It looks like we could both use a short
nap."

He was touched by the way she didn't even hesitate but immediately
curled up beside him, her head on his shoulder, her hand on his
chest.

God, he'd missed this!  How could he have what a comfort it was just to
be able to hold another human being?  Maybe he'd forgotten because
during that last year he had held Lucy to comfort her, and in return.
had felt only a deepening of his anguish and sorrow.  And, there had
been the last time he'd held her.  The night died, he'd held her,
talked comfortingly to her, making sure she didn't die alone.

Until Jessica Kilmer, Arlen Coulter hadn't touched other soul except in
the most casual ways--a handshake,

to his daughter's cheek, a at to his soft shoulder kissing

'

He'd cut himself off completely and probably would have: stayed that
way, safe in a desert of isolation, sic.  Somehow, he acknowledged with
a kind of dread, she'd managed to make a place for herself right side
his walls.

Well, she wouldn't stay for long.  He was attracted to him, but he
suspected it had more with his job and his experience than with
anything him personally.  At some point she was bound to decide was too
old, too scarred and too much trouble, At point she was bound to
realize that she wanted all real things, things he couldn, t give her.
Off she would and she would find a man nearer her own age.  just as it
should be.

Closing his eyes against the brilliance of the midday Arlen dozed off,
vaguely aware that he hadn't felt so con,.

in hell of a long time.

When they awoke, the afternoon was nearly gone and the northert~
horizon bore the blue imprint of an approaching cold front.

"We'd better get back," Jessica said as she studied it.  A lifetime in
Texas told her that a blue norther would hit in the next couple of
hours, bringing with it a significant temperature drop.  Her thin
cotton blouse would offer scant protection.

Arlen stood on the rock, hands on his hips, and studied the blue wall.
"It's amazing," he said "I swear this must be the only place on earth
where you can see a cold front."

"Naw," Jessica said with a gentle laugh.  "They see northers in
Oklahoma, too.  Maybe the only reason you don't see them back 'east is
because you h~/ve so many trees."

"I have to admit," Arlen said as he turned, "that's One of the things I
miss about the East.  Lots of big trees.  Especially in autumn."

"What else do you 9"

miss.

"Real Italian sausage."  He jumped down from the rock and reached up to
help her.  "Bagels fresh from a bakery at six in the morning.  Those
bagels they sell downtown almost make it, though.  Almost."  He closed
his hands around her waist and lifted her down.  "Hot pretzels.
Snow."

Still holding her by the waist, he bent and kissed her lightly on the
lips.  "Yeah," he said huskily.  "Snow.  Mostly snow at Christmas. 
Snow falling like fairy dust in the dark, muffling the world in silence
while you curl up in front of a fire and make love with your lady "

He had given.  up the fight, he admitted.  Further argument with
himself would be self-deluding.  He wanted this woman, he wasn't going
to be able to resist her forever, and since she wanted him, too, there
was no point in fighting it any longer.

So he wrapped both his arms around her, drawing her full length snugly
against him as he cupped her bottom.  Bending, he brushed her lips with
his and watched as her eyelids fluttered downward.  "Think that norther
will get

cold enough for a fire?  " His voice was a husky growl, and he felt
her shiver in response.

"Who cares?"  she asked breathlessly, feeling as if she were already on
fire.  "I'll turn on the air conditioning to make it cold enough, if I
have to."

Arlen chuckled and hugged her tight before releasing her.  "Only a
Texan would think of.  something like that," he teased.

After he helped her into her helmet--as if she were cious, Jessica
thought--he insisted she wear his bomber jacket.  "If that storm hits
before we get back to you'll need it, Jessie."

The jacket smelled of Arlen, of man and soap leather.  Sitting on the
back of the bike, arms snugly around his waist, she felt as if she were
by him.  Sheltered by him.  Protected by him.

She felt as if she were riding another motorcycle, too, emotional one.
Something had happened to Arlen'stance something had caused a marked
shift toward a relationship between them.  Where before made her feel
like something he wanted but hated for wanting, now he just made her
feel desirable.  And gave her the same headlong rush that riding this
the same sense of excitement and adventure and

It was also scary.  Yesterday, just yesterday, she had 1 ten her first
taste of the power of passion.  She had ered how it could override
common sense and and make a mockery of normal restraints.  It was ing
her common sense even now, drawing ward an unknown destination.  And
there was no believe that Aden was being any about this.  That meant
there might be regrets them.

And she really' didn't know how she would 'handle

As they leaned into a curve, she felt her throat tighten ~ in
premonition.  She wanted this, but she could wind up regretting it. 
She could wind up hurting,

Even knowing that, she knew she would still ahead.  She wanted this man
with an ache so deep thing that could possibly hurt any worse was never
having him at all.

She was about to take the biggest risk she had ever taken in her entire
life.

Two hours later the Harley growled to a stop beside Jessica:s car in
the MTI parking lot.  The wind had begun to gust before the approaching
storm, and the temperature felt as if it had begun to drop.

Arlen helped Jessica off has bike and saw her safely buckled into her
car.

"I won't follow you directly," he said.  He held her car door,
preparatory to closing it for her.  "There are a couple of things I
need to do before I come over."

Her heart and her stomach both plunged, and her hands took the steering
wheel in a death grip.  "Okay," she managed to say.  He was having
second thoughts.  Next would come the apologetic phone call.  He would
say something had come up at work.

Something of her feelings must have shown on her face, because he
suddenly squatted beside her.  Catch'rag her chin in his hand, he
turned her face toward him.  "I may go to hell for this, Jessie," he
said, "but I'm not changing my mind.  I really have to check in.  I've
already been out of touch too long.  I'll see you in a little while."
Leaning toward her, he placed a soft, warm kiss on her lips.

She felt better, but only briefly.  As she pulled out of the parking
lot, she saw Arlen in her rearview mirror.  He straddled his bike and
watched her go, and there was something about that sight that made her
feel achingly sad.

The phone call came an hour later.  He was sorry, he said, and sounded
as if he really meant it.  There had been some developments in a case
that required his presence.  He didn't know when he would be free.

"Jessie?"  The question rumbled over the line, fleshed out by his tone
though the words remained unspoken.

"I understand, Arlen," she said through stiff lips.  Please, God, just
let me get off the phone before my voice cracks.  She couldn't bear for
him to kno~v how much this mattered, how much it hurt.  It was foolish,
after such a short time, to care so much.  A few days ago she hadn't
even known he existed, so how could his absence take on the proportions
of a disaster?  Pride kept her voice calm and her eyes dry, while a
soul-deep disappointment pierced her.  "Do you, Jessie?  Do you really
understand?"

"Of course I do," she said sharply.  ~"You're an FBI agent.  Your work
is important, and it isn't confined to usual business hours."

"As long as that's really what you understand, and you're not imagining
something else.  I'll call you when Fm done."

"Sure.  Good night, Aden."

That was when Jessica cried.  She felt foolish for crying, but she
couldn t help it.  A deep, hollow ache filled her, and it hurt too mUch
to ignore.  Curled up in a corner of the couch; she cried until
exhaustion dried her eyes and carried her off to sleep.

She'd had so little human warmth in her life, she thought as she
drifted away.  Was it wrong to want it so badly?

Chapter 7

Hou after Jessica fell tearfully asleep on her couch, Phil Harrigan
stuck his head into Aden's office.  "You ready to go, Aden?"

Aden looked up from the notes he was making and shook his head.  "I'll
bean hour or more yet, Phil," he told the other agent.  "Say, are you
tied up Monday around Boon?"

"Not that I know of."  Phil leaned against the door frame.  "Ed's going
to take the videotape we made tonight up to the U.S. Attorney's office,
but he doesn't need me for that.  You got something coming down?"

"Looks that way."

"So count me in.  I mean, catching a federal judge accepting a bribe
from a local cop is a big deal and all, but it'll wear off by Monday.
You know me.  I gotta have my adrenaline jolt."

Chuckling, Aden leaned back in his deep leather chair.  Like Harrigan,
he wore jeans and a black windbreaker with the initials FBI plastered
on the front, back and sleeves in bright white letters.  Aden was very
much in favor of those windbreakers.  It sometimes amused him to recall
that he'd been shot at only once in his entire career, by a drunken
hunter.  He had been placing a surveillance camera in the Maryland
woods to videotape an expected drop of classified documents by a
suspected mole.  Along had come a pickup full of hunters who, for some
reason, had taken exception to Aden's activities.

Knowing there were two possible sets of headlines that could, come out
of the encounter, Aden had decided the director would definitely prefer
FBI Agent Shot By' Local Hunter to FBI Shoots Local Hunter.
Consequently, he'd dived behind a log and waited for the hunters to'
tire of their game.  A few years later, when the windbreakers made
their appearance, he was foursquare in favor of them, because sometimes
a simple thing could avert tragedy.  To this day he felt those hunters
would never have shot ff they had known he was with law enforcement.

Besides, in the heat of a crisis, when bullets were flying in every
direction, blazing identification was essential.  Not that he'd ever
been in that situation.  Not that he ever wanted to be.  But he'd been
in plenty of situations with that kind of potential.

"On Monday," he told Phil, "I want you to go to the Corner Pub on North
Lamar, say about eleven-th'.n'ty.  At noon a lady named Jessica Kilmer
will arrive to meet a student named Greg Leong."  Reaching into his
desk, he pulled out two photos, one of Jessibm and one of Greg Leoug.
They'd been taken by surveillance cameras, so neither was really crisp,
but they were good enough to make artidenti-fication from.  "The lady,"
Aden continued, "has agreed to work with us as a double agent.  I
believe that Leorig has been pressured to introduce a KGB agent to Ms.
Kilmer.  I expect the introduction will take place Monday at the Pub. I
want you to get a good make on the person Leorig introduces to her. Get
a photo, if you can."

"Will she be wired?"  Phil asked.

Arlen shook his head.  "I don't see the point in it.  Whatever
introduction is made will be casual, and nothing of any real importance
will be said."

Phil nodded.  "What about a tail?  You want me to tail the guy?"  ,

"Not this time.  Later, if we need to, but I don't want to risk rocking
this boat in any way right now, Phil.  Some-thing fishy is going on
over at MTI, and I suspect this may be part of it.  If it is, there's
more at stake than whether we can pick up one guy for asking Jessie
Kilmer to pass ciasa-ified."  Glancing at his watch, Arlen almost
groaned aloud.  It was nearly midnight, and by now Jessie was sure to
think he'd turne,:i tail.  He mad his attention to Phil.  "We'll talk
more about this Monday morning.  Do you have any objection to
partnering with Lisa on this one?"

"No.  Should IT'

Arlen shook his head.  "No, you shouldn't, but you might, and this is
one case where I don't want any chafing personalities.  It's apt to go
on for a long, long time."

Phil turned as if to leave, then asked, "This Kilmer woman.  Does she
live around here?"

"She lives over on West Chestnut."  Arlen frowned faintly.  "Why the
interest, Phil7 Is something bugging you?"

Phil shook his head.  "Nope.  Just thought the name rang a bell.  I
suppose you'll be wanting me to keep an eye on her?"

"We'll see."

Alone again, Arlen considered calling Jessie, then decided it was too
late.  Forty-five minutes later, he couldn't stand it.  He picked up
the phone and dialed her number, It might be late, but waking her was
better than letting her believe for another minute that he'd
deliberately stood her up.  Instead of ringing, however, he got a busy
signal.

Well, he thought, 'it was Saturday night, and for a Saturday night it
wasn't that late.  He replaced the receiver and returned to
his-notes.

Forty-five minutes later, uneasiness had destroyed all possibility of
finishing up his notes on the night's operation.  Jessica's line was
still busy, and his uneasiness wouldn't let him dismiss it.  She could
be talking to a friend.  She could have taken the phone off the hook,
for some reason-like maybe she was really ticked off at him.  He sure
couldn'l blame her for that.  She didn't seem like the vindictive type,
but then, how well did he really know her?

With a curse he stood up and reached for his gun, snapping the holster
to his belt.  There was only one way he was going to be able to relax.
He would have to go over there and assure himself that she was all
right.

After he'd left Jessica in the MTI parking lot, he'd driven home to
shower, shave, change and check in.  The checking in was what had
gotten him tangled up in this business.  Hell, he'd meant to go by the
drugstore, and he hadn't even done that.

He pulled his sedan to a stop in front of Jessica's house a bare
fifteen minutes later.  The night had turned cold and windy, and there
was a taste of rain in the air as he studied the front of Jessie's
house, seeking any indication that something was amiss.  Seeing nothing
untoward, not even a car parked along the street, he crept around the
side of the house to the back door, silent in the jogging shoes he'd
exchanged his boots for.  Since he was no longer on official business,
he'd left his FBI windbreaker behind in favor of his own nylon jacket,
but as he worked his way around the house he began to wonder if that
wasn't a mistake.  If some neighbor noticed him and called the cops, he
could well live to regret it.

At the back of the house everything appeared normal, too.  Jessie's car
was parked at the back door, and all the lights in the house were out.
She'd probably gone to bed.  She'd probably taken the phone off the
hook simply because she didn't want to be awakened.

But he wouldn't rest until he saw with his own two eyes that she was
okay.  Well, he could beat on her door, a good, solid police-style
hammering that would wake the dead, not to mention half her
neighbors.

He chose instead to let himself in to the house and things out.  If
someone was in there with her, he didn't want to startle them.  People
got hurt that way.

A credil card unlocked her back door for him.  Arlen made a mental note
to see that she got a dead holt on that door.  Feeling stupid, sure
that he was overreacting, able to talk himself out of it, he crept
through the and up the stairway.  He would find Jessica curled up in
her bed.  Then he could get the hell out of here admit to a soul that
he, a veteran agent of sixteen years' experience, had gone off the deep
end because a woman he hardly knew had taken her phone off the libok.

Right.

He might not have known her long, but she was-impor~ rant anyway.  She
was important at a gut level that was dragging him through a dark house
at two o'clock in the morning to make sure she was okay.  And if that
wasn'~ the stupidest part of this whole thing.  At the top of the
stairs he paused, listening intently.  Not a sound disturbed the
silence.  A step brought him to the door of her bedroom.  It was open,
which he guessed wasn't surprising, since she lived here alone.
Somebody ought to tell her, though, that it was safer to sleep behind a
closed door, because thieves were reluctant to enter closed rooms,
unsure of what they might find.  And then, of course, there was the
fire protection factor provided by a closed door .  He could see the
shimmer of her white satin spread in the dark, and he crept toward it,
hesitating only when a board creaked beneath his foot.  She wasn't in
the bed.

She wasn't in the bed!

Alarms went off in his head, and his hand dived under the jacket for
his gun.  The last thing he felt now was stupidity.  Something was
definitely wrong.  Without wasting another moment, moving with a silent
stealth learned in the dangerous jungles of Southeast/~sia, Arlen began
to check every nook and cranny of the upstairs.

Finding nothing, he headed downstairs, stepping at the outside of each
riser so it wouldn't creak.  The adrenaline-shot he'd gotten when he
looked into Jessica's bed had his heart hammering rapidly.  The
increased demand for oxygen forced him to breathe through his mouth in
great, silent gulps.

When he reached the foot of the stairs he held his breath and listened.
The pounding of his heart was so loud that he wasn't sure he would be
able to hear anything quieter than the roar of a freight train, but he
listened, anyway.

There-was something, a sound more felt than heard, so faint beside the
pounding in his ears that he couldn't be

Se~ou~ Risks really certain he heard it.  Crouching, he ~eh~ toward the
living room ~d ~n ~rou~ ~e arch~ doo~ay.

~ain a sound, ~kc a ~, mu~ moan.  It ~e from ~ couch.  Straightening,
hold~g h~ g~ at the r~dy in both hands, ~l~n st~ ~o~d t~ and ~ble ~d
look~ down at t~ couch.

It w~ J~i~.  H~ ey~ we~ d~k-adap~ enough~ to m~e out h~ f~m~ ~ the f~t
~ght t~t ffl~ ~u~ the ~ack ~n the cu~ins of one t~l ~ding ova, he
found

~-v~ng ev~ det~.

S~ w~ ~1 fi~t.  She w~ sl~ng.  Tea~ m~k~ h~ ~ fa~, but o~i~ s~ w~ ~
~t.

gently ~o~d h~ ~at, a~o~ her b~sts, around h~ w~.  She look~ ~it~,
sw~t~ f~n~e.  She 1~ ~e ~me~g a m~ 0u~t to ~ab ~d hold on ~. ~m~ne he
oust to gather el~ ~d prot~ ~d shelt~ ~d 1ov~

~t ~e a ~w~h~ spring day, "J~e."

He~ h~ d~ H~ ~d ~ to p~ her ~ o~n to ~ him~ "I thou~t you we~n't
coming."

you up to ~."

"No," she m~bled ~ he sHp~ ~s ~s ~n~th her.  "You'll hu~ you, ll

"Hush, hon~.  J~t hush."  ~ one ~y mov~ent he lift~ her ~ ag~st his
eh~t.  ~e of ~ a~s ~d~ h~ should~; the other sup~ her ~. Inst~ctively
she mm~ t~a~ ~, wrapping an a~ around h~ sboulde~

as she buried her face in the warm curve between his neck and
shoulder.

"I'm glad you came."  She sighed sleepily as he began the climb up the
stairs.  it was all a dream, she thought hazily, this dark trip up the
stairs in strong arms.  Just a wonderful dream that would make her
smile come morning.  "You'll stay, won't you?"

"I'll stay."  He didn't know how he was going to handle it, though.
Missing the drugstore earlier tonight was rapidly becoming a serious
mistake.  He suspected, however, that the tearstains on her cheeks
were' his fault, and he couldn't do that to her again.  No way.  Not if
every bit of common sense in him argued that he ought to get the hell
out of here,

Without turning on a light, he carried her across her bedroom and
lowered her gently to her feet beside the bed.  "Let me pull back the
comforter, Jessie."

' Stifling a yawn, she leaned against him.  "I need to take my hair
down," she said.  drowsily He felt so good, so hfird and strong.  And
he smelled so good, she thought.  "I can't sleep with all these bobby
pins."  What a funny thing to worry about in a dream.

Her hair.  Arlen was suddenly distracted from his single line of
thought: to get her into bed and covered quickly before his traitorous
mind and body could come up with other activities.

Her hair.  From the moment he first set eyes on her he'd been wanting
to get her hair down.  "I'll help you," he said.

Jessica found herself sitting.  on the bench before her dressing table,
staring at her reflection in the mirror.  Arlen had turned on the small
bedside lamp, the one that gave her just enough light to see her way to
the bathroom when she needed it.  The dim glow highlighted her face
from the side,~ giving her a light-dark look of mystery~ The beat of
her heart had become a heavy throbbing.  This was no dream.  This was
real, and she was at last waking to the reality of it.

In the mirror she watched Arler~ remove his jacket.  Then he unsnapped
the holster from his belt and placed it on the bedside table.  He was
really here, she thought, excitement pounding in her blood.  He was
really here, and the simple acts of removing his jacket and gun
suddenly seemed incredibly intimate.  Incredibly wonderful.  He filled
the virginal room, dominated it, a dark, virile presence amid all the
soft white fluff of her childish dreams.

This was it.  She clenched her hands in her lap and waited for whatever
was to come.  For the first time in her life she truly understood what
it meant to tremble before.  the unknown.  No book, no movie, could
prepare a person for the reality of this moment.  Nor would she ever
have believed that it was possible to want and fear the same thing.

Suddenly Arlen was behind her, his hands resting gently on her
shoulders.  "I made you cry," he said softly.

She wanted to deny it, but as she me this eyes in the mirror she knew
she couldn't.  Mute with embarrassment at what she felt had been
childishness, she simply looked back at him.

Lifting one hand, he stroked her soft cheek wRh a fingertip.  Jessica
caught her breath and watched, mesmerized.

Arlen spoke quietly.  "I made the mistake of calling in to work to see
if anything earth-shattering had happened while I was out of touch."

"And something had."

"Something was about to," he corrected.  "I'm sorry, Jessie.  Really
sorry."

Slipping his fingers into her hair, he began to remove the pins one by
one, tossing them on the table as he found them.  Jessie shivered
delightfully as she felt the gentle touch of his fingers against her
scalp.  Never in a million years would she have guessed that that could
be erotic.

"You don't have to apologize," she said, a catch in her suddenly
breathy voice.

"Yes, I do.  Another time maybe I wouldn't but this time, all things
considered, I really do have to apologize for how I made you feel."

The last lock of her hair fell free, and Arlen stared in pleasure at
long, shiny locks that fell all the way to the bench on which she was
sitting.  "Your hair is beautiful, Jessie.  I've never seen such
beautiful hair."

"Thank you."  Pleasure flushed her cheeks, made her heart skip a
beat.

"i've been wanting to see it down since the moment I laid eye son you,"
he confessed.  Leaning forward, he took the brush from the dressing
table.  Then, slowly, gently, he began to brush the heavy, shiny veil.
"And while I'm making all these apologies and confessions, there's
another one I'd better make straight out."

Jessica was already sinking into the luxury of having her hair brushed,
but now she stiffened slightly.  "Is something wrong?"

"Hell, yes," he said wryly.  "I never made it to the drugstore."  '

"The... Oh!"

"Right.  Oh."  He smiled at the way she clapped her hands to her hot
cheeks, but then she laughed, startling him.  "Jessie, don't.you
understand?  I didn'tget any re

"That's okay," she said swiftly, her voice dropping an octave with
embarrassment.  "That's okay."

"How can it be okay?"  He felt a little irritated.  It was late, he was
tired,.  he was horny as hell and there wasn't a condom in sight. "Damn
it, Jessie, it can't be okay.  I know perfectly well you're a... you're
not real experienced.  You can't possibly be protected, and I'm not
taking any chances with you.  It's like wearing a helmet on a Harley. 
0my a fool rides without protection."

"I, uh..."  She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands.  "Damn
it," she said tautly, "I bought the dam things without any trouble. Why
cag.."  t i just say it?  "

"Say what?"  Arlen's hands paused in her hair.  '"Bought what, honey?"
He had an idea, though, and it was soothing his irritation.

"I went to the drugstore myself," she said in a rush.  "The bedside
table."

He crossed to the table and pulled the drawer out enough to see the
familiar box.  "Jessie, I'm impressed.  How'd you ever whip up the
nerve?"

She still couldn't look at himJ She cleared her throat.  "I, uh, I'm
liberated enough to think a woman is responsible for her own, uh,
protection.  Besides," she said almost petulantly "buying them was
easy. Telling you is something else!"

Arlen laughed.  He couldn't help it.  "Jessie, Jessie," he said warmly
as he came up behind her.  His hands settled on her shoulders again,
and he bent, bringing his month to her ear.  "God, woman, I've been
wanting you!"

His roughly whispered words caused a sharp thrill to pierce her very
center.  The unexpected pressure of his teeth on her earlobe did even
more.  She arched back toward him, and his hands tightened on her
shoulders.

"That's it, Jess," he said softly and knelt behind her.  "Lean back
against me."

He parted her hair so that he could kiss the nape of her neck, and
Jessie sank immediately into a warm languor.  Her limbs felt weighted,
and her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open as Arlen's lips did
incredibly arousing things to her neck.  Another erogenous zone she'd
never dreamed of, she thought hazily, and then just about stopped
thinking as his arms wrapped around her and his hands each captured one
full breast.  She felt her nipples pucker immediately~ straining
eagerly for more of the delicious treatment he'd given them
yesterday.

Arlen watched them both in the mirror, watched the way Jessie's eyelids
drooped closed, the way her head sagged back against his shoulder in
complete surrender.  He watched his har~ds shape her breasts, through
the flowered silk, watched his thumbs brush her beading nipples.  He
heard her quickened breaths, the soundless sighs, felt the slight,
restless stirring of her body as he stroked her.  The knot of need that
had been with-him virtually every moment since he met her hardened even
more.  He felt his own breath speed up, felt his control slip a notch,
and then another notch.  ~

Fantasies were filling his mind.  A fantasy of slowly disrobing Jessie
here before the mirror, of touching her with intimacy while they both
watched.  A fantasy of her lying on her white satin spread with nothing
but her yards of dark hair to clothe her.  Oh, yes, he had fantasies
such as he hadn't had in years, but not for tonight.  Tonight was for

Jessie and Jessie only.  A first time should be special; and he was
determined that hers would be.

"Mmm," Jessie moaned softly and arched her breasts hard against Aden's
hands.  "Aden..."  His name was a sigh that trailed away into another
moan.

If he didn't move them now, he doubted he was going to be able to move
them at all.  Rising, he scooped Jessie up from the vanity bench and
carried her to the bed.  Holding her by her shoulders, he let her feet
trail to the floor.  She steadied herself as he bent to tug the satin
comforter back.

Jessica saw the invitingly pulled-back covers, and without any coaxing
at all she climbed right in and threw herself on her back.  The smile
she gave Aden was nearly beatific.  "Hurry," she said, her voice a low
purr.

The urge to laugh rose in Arlen.  It was a happy urge, a joyous urge,
something so long forgotten that it startled him.  He didn't laugh, but
his crooked smile spread across his face in answer to hers.  Standing
right beside the bed, he began to undress.

Breathlessly she watched.  In college she'd seen a magazine with
pictures of nude men in it, but she'd never seen a real, live man
without any clothes.  Aden would be beautiful, she was sure, but
natural curiosity and natural shyness were warring within her.

First he pulled his black T-shirt over his head and tossed it onto the
vanity bench.  Jessica drew an audible breath at the sight of his
broad,-hard chest.  She had known that he was sheathed in flat
muscle--she had felt it wbenhe held her, when he carried her--but she'd
had no way to know whether he was hairy.  He was not.  He was smooth
and firm and golden in the lamp's dim glow.  How she wanted to touch
him!

A click drew her eyes downward, and she stared in fascination as Arlen
unbuckled his belt.  Here there was hair, she saw, dark hair afro wing
downward from his navel to the waistband~ of his jeans.  Unconsciously
she licked her lips.  A nervous, edgy fluttering filled her, an uneasy
uncertainty.

-Arlen saw the nervousness, but that was exactly why he was standing
beside her bed undressing like a two-bit stripper in a bad floor show.
If virginal nerves were going to scare her off, he wanted them both to
know it before things went too far- Before he lost the last bit of the
self-control she'd been chipping away at so steadily.  Before he lost
the ability to behave like a gentleman.

He certainly wasn't doing this because he thought he was pinup
material.  His own mouth was dry with nervousness.  Damn it, maybe hen
ceded to see a shrink.  He'd made love to only one woman in his entire
life, and that was hardly a measure by which to judge his skills.  Yet
here he was, getting ready to climb into a virgin's bed and telling
himself he was going to make it good for her.  Just how was he
proposing to do that?

But his hands kept moving, anyway, unclasping th~ belt, popping the
buttons, yanking the zipper.  Damn, he wanted this woman.  He couldn't
remember ever having wanted like this.  How had she done it?  How had
she gotten inside to pluck at his feelings and draw out his responses?
How had she made him so hungry when he had been sure he would never be
hungry again?

He shoved down his jeans but left his briefs in place.  He heard
Jessie's faint gasp, and he looked quickly at her.  Her gaze seemed to
be stuck on the bulge in the front of his briefs, the rather obvious
evidence of his-arousal.

"~Jessie?"  He spoke gently.  "Want me to stop?"  The unsure part of
him half hoped she would.

"No... no," she answered unsteadily, astonishing him.  "Arlen,
please... I ache "

That did it.  The plea, the sound of her breathless voice, the yearning
in her bright brown eyes, all combined to untangle the twisted skein of
his feelings.  " In an instant he became a man with a purpose.  He
might not be a Lothario, but he could be caring and gentle and patient,
and, by heaven, he would.

He lay beside her at last, still wearing his.  briefs, and wrapped her
in the strength of his arms, tugging her close to his heart.  She
sighed with apparent pleasure and turned her head so that her cheek
rested against his breast.  Her hands were caught between them, small
and soft, and her fingertips touched him in gentle, kneading strokes
that reminded him of his daughter's cat.

"It feels so good to hold you," he murmured, rubbing her back from
shoulder to hip with his hands.  He knew instinctively that she needed
every bit of praise he could shower on her.  He thought himself
uncertain, but she was even more so, lacking any-experience to counter
her mistaken self-image.  He had seen enough to know that she felt
plain and unattractive.  None of it was true, in his opinion, but he
was honest enough to admit others might have given her reason to feel
that way.  She was not conventionally pretty, but in his eyes she was
something much more.  She had the soft warmth that made puppies and
kittens so appealing.  In her plain little face he saw loveliness that
wouldn't wear away, and in her eyes he saw the shining of her soul. But
perhaps the most amazing thing he needed her to understand tonight was
that both his mind and his body found her to be absolutely the sexiest
woman he'd ever seen.

"You're so soft," he murmured against her tern pie As one hand swept
downward, he pulled her hips closer, pressing her abdomen to his
arousal.  He heard her soft gasp, and with a smile he rocked himself
against her.  Just once, just enough to remind her.  "You make me hot,"
he said frankly, and soaked up the warmth of her unexpected smile.

"You make me hot, too," she confided, her brown eyes sparkling up at
him.

He brought his hand up to cup her cheek, to slide into her yards of
silky hair, "When I came up here the other night with those
boxes--remember?"

She nodded, watching him with heavy-lidded eye.

"I took one look at this bed, and I got hit right between the eyes with
an image of you lying here covered by nothing but your hair.  I've been
wild ever since."  f

Color stained her cheeks, visible to him even in the dim light.  "I
don't know if I'm quite ready for that," she admitted.

"of course you not."  He kissed her forehead, ran his fingers from~ her
ear to her chin.  "I'm saving that up for n a"

later; a ~Y~o'Y.

"Later?  The word caught on her breath as his hand,

quite deliberately and quite boldly, slipped into the front of her
dreSSing gown, found its way past the thin strap of the teddy she Wore
and grasped her breast in a warm, firm hold.

"Alah," Arlen sighed, closing his own eyes as he felt her satin skin,
the hard button of her straining nipple.  "Your breastS are so
beautiful, Jessie.  They feel so good "

Jessica nearly groaned when he pulled his hand from her breast, but a
new excitement clenched her deep inside as he tugged at the tie of her
rob,e,~

"I want to see you, Jess," he said huskily, pulling the tie loose an~
parting the robe.  "I want to touch you every where."  He smoothed the
robe from her shoulders, and in growing eagerness she helped him free
her from it.

pink skin add white satin.  She was wearing a white satin teddy' that
draped her curves loosely, tentatively, temptingly

"Damn it, Jess," Arlen said.  "You know just how to drive ~e out of my
mind!"

The smile, she gave him was shyly pleased.  "You like it?"  ,

"I l~k,e it," he replied.  "I like the way you look in it even
better.

She turned toward him, holding out her arms, but he stoppe~t.  her
gently, pressing her hack onto the mattress~

needed a m. on~ent to slip a leash on his escaping control.  After a
while he lifted smiling gray eyes to hers.  "Now," he said quietly,
"I'm going to touch."

And touch he did.  Jessica caught her breath and 'then stopped ~b~thing
altogether.  His hands wove a web of magi~ on ,r skin, through the thin
satin that slipped erotically against her most sensitive parts.  When
her sighs turned to soft moans, he took her mouth in a deep, searing
kiss that echoed the primal rhythms he was evoking in her.

"Arlen ... Aden..."  Her own hands couldn't remain still as powerful
needs took her, shook her, turned her inside out so that she felt like
a mass of hungry, throbbing nerves.  She found his broad shoulders and
clung, trying to draw him closer, but he resisted.  Instead he opened
the snaps of her teddy and skimmed it off her.

Her eyelids fluttered as she felt it go, and she arched toward him.
She'd never felt anything like this before, but she knew what she
wanted.

"Arlen... I need I want to feel you .... "

"Touch me, Jessie."  His voice was a husky growl.  "Touch me, baby.  Go
on."

Her eyes opened sleepily.  "Show me," she whispered.  "Show me how."

That request fanned his inner firestorm.  There were ways he'd needed
to be touched all his life long, ways he'd never been touched.  As
Jessie spoke, something inside Arlen exploded in a conflagration long
denied.  0my as she spoke did he reali7~ what he'd missed.

"Show me," she murmured-again, turning toward him, heedless of her
nakedness, unaware of how beautiful she looked to him.  She wanted,
needed, to make him feel some of the pleasure he gave to her.  She
wanted, needed, to feel his skin and his shudders, to hear his moans
and sighs, to weave the same magic web around him.

He was shaking as he took her hand.  His needs took a momentary back
seat to the wonder of-this woman's request, but not for long.  He
pressed her palm to his chest and rolled onto his back.

"Like this," he whispered, drawing her hand downward.  As he guided
her, he hung suspended in a kind of hell, wondering if she would pull
away in shock.  "Like this," he whispered again, closing her fingers
around him through the cotton of his briefs.  He was grateful for the
briefs, suddenly, grateful that the shock to her could be minimized by
that thin, soft barrier.

But Jessie's shock was both instant and fleeting.  She drew a deep,
shuddery breath and stroked him with instinctive need, encouraged and
inflamed by his evident pleasure.  She had imagined, but imagination
didn't hold a

Serious candle to reality.  He was harder, bigger She stroked h/m
again, marveling, melting.  Arlen jerked and moaned.  "Again, Jess," he
ground out.  "Again.  So... damn... good!"  Her insides clenched almost
painfully in response to his sounds of pleasure; and she wrapped
herself around a leg over his legs, her hand on his hips, and her
mouth-ah, with her mouth she learned a dozen ways to make h/m groan, to
make his arm tighten around her shoulders.  It was she who tugged his
briefs from him finally.  She knelt over him in awe and touched him in
wonder.  And destroyed his patience and self-control.  "That's it,
Jessie," he 'growled.  Catching her by shoulders, he flipped her gently
onto.  her back and over her.  He kissed her swollen lips with ness and
brushed her silky hair back from her face.  tenderness, a purely
protective instinct, gripped him.  you sum, Jessie?  " he asked
hoarsely.  " Are you sure?  "

She lifted trembling arms and looped them neck.  "I'm sure," she said
on an uneven breath.  lutely.  " Why was he hesitating?  Every nerve in
her throbbed in a plea for completion.  She was almost pictely past the
ability to think.

He swept his hand downward to the apex of hor and combed his fingers
through soft hair.  "It'll sweetheart.  I don't think there's anything
I can do to vent that."  He slipped a finger into her, causing her to
l

-and arch.  She was warm, tight and wet.  So wet and

So damn virginal.  He wished he could skip this how.  He remembered
another time, and he might frozen right there, except that Jessie's
hips against his hand as if she enjoyed the sensation of motion, and
she turned her head toward him, finding his pie with her tongue. 
"Mmm," she panted2 "I know.  I

on his shoulders.

But he hesitate da little longer, trying to to ready her as much as ute
when he had to turn to the bedside table, but

Seriou~ Risks turned swiftly, again stroking her deeply with his finl
until she was writhing, one hand clutching desperatel him, the other
clutching at the sheet.  She was as read'.  she could ever be, he
thought, and he was damned il could wait any longer.

As soon as he moved between her legs, she stilled.  "Jess?"  Doubt
assailed him again, one last flicke] clear thought in a mind gone red
and hazy with driv: pulsing need.  Damn, she was soft.  So soft, so
warm wild.  "Jess?"

"Do it," she whispered.  "Oh, please, Arlen.  Now!"  : He wanted to
move slowly, but as soon as he star to enter her, something inside both
of them snapped and t] hips lunged together.  The barrier was gone
almost bel he was aware of it, and he was fully sheathed in her til hot
depths.  Smothering a groan of incredible satis fact he raised his head
and looked down into Jessio's sud& pale face.  He cupped her head,
stroked her hair back,

strained his hunger as he waited for her reaction.  "Jessie?"  He spoke
in a husky whisper.

"I ... just need a second," she whispered back.  "Just me a minute.
I'I1 be okay."

He filled the time by kissing her softly everywher, could reach.  When
he lifted his head again, she smiled her eyes opened, looking straight
into his.

"Are you okay?"  he asked.

"Mmm."  She sighed, then reached up to ~troke shoulders with her hands.
"It wasn't that bad.  And you so good inside me."

Her truthfulness delighted him.  "Tell me," he co~r and moved a little,
just a little, within her.  "Tell me he feels."

She whispered in his ear, broken phrases, trying to him how he
completed her, how he filled an aching en ness, how right, how good,
this seemed.  And as she ,~ pered he deepened his movements little by
little until whispers turned to moans and her stroking hands bega
clutch.  ~

He had tested his self-control beyond what he'd i~ ined possible, but
now it was 'failing him completely slipped a hand beneath her hips,
guiding her untutored movements, straining to bring her the same
pleasure sho was giving him, knowing that he couldn't hold on much
longer.

And then she convulsed with a groan that seemed to rise~i from her
toes.

"Jessie!"  With a guttural cry he followed her over the peak.

Chapter 8

Clad only in unbut~toned, unzil~.  jeans, Arlen stoc d at' the window
near the head of Jessie s bed and stared out through white lace at wet
gloom.  Rain dripped steadily from the eaves, and the day beyond the
window was ~gray and faintly misty.  As yesterday had been the best of
T~.  xas springthue, today appeared to be the worst.

It wasemrly yet, only a little past seven, meaning he had enjoyed maybe
three hours of sleep.  He was used to short sleep, though, and as he
got older, late nights followe~l by early mornings troubled him less
and less.

Jessie's neighborhood was one of the older ones in town, and it was
both quiet and graced with tall old live oaks that must be near a
century in age.  It reminded him very much of the small upstate New.
York town where he'd grown tip--although he hadn't lived in a
neighborhood as nice as this one.  No, this type of 'neighborhood in
his hometown was where the doctors,.  lawyers and merchants lived.

Ever since he had moved to central Texas, however, he frequently had
been taken by surprise at the way some view of the hilly countryside or
a city street would suddenlY remind him forcibly of the Northeast. The
sensati was particularly apparent here on Jessie's street.

He glanced over at her to make sure she was still asleep.  This was one
morning of her life when she shouldn't awake alone.  It would be easy,
he feared, for her to feel used.  Hell, in the 'cool light of morning
he was wondering what the devil was wrong with him.  He'd let his
judgment become seriously clouded by needs that shouldn't be running a
man's life much past the age of twenty.  Still, whatever penance he
deserved for his selfishness and foolhardiness in climbing into her
bed, he wasn't going to make her pay it.  She had given him a priceless
gift, and he was decent enough to value it.  He would stick around
until she got sick of him, which probably wouldn't take too long. Until
then, he owed her whatever she wanted from him simply because he'd
taken advantage of her.

He scanned the street again.  It was quiet, as it should be so early on
aSunday morning.  The only other soul stirring was that man down there
leaning against a light post and smoking a cigarette while he waited
for a dog to finish sniffing out all the bushes.  Probably somebody
else with a guilty conscience for the way he had spent his Saturday
night, Arlen thought wryly.

A sigh from behind made him turn and look at Jessica.  She stirred
slightly, like the whisper of a dawn breed.  The top sheet was tangled
around her legs and had slipped off one breast, a full, rounded breast
with a large pink areola.  A beautiful breast, he thought, on a
beautiful, generously endowed woman.  Her hips were meant to era die a
man, had cradled him perfectly.  The memory of how she felt beneath him
was enough to bring him surging to full arousal like a young buck of
eighteen.  He forced his attention back to the window and grimaced down
at the solitary smoker below.

Part of what was troubling him this morning was the oddly uncomfortable
perspective that last night had given him on his marriage.  He didn't
really want to think about it.  His marriage had been a good one by
just about any measure--exeept sex.  He had loved Lucy and would still
love her today if she were alive.  There had been good times and there
had been bad times, but never, ever, had he once even thought of ending
their marriage, or wished it had never happened.  They had been
companions and friends and allies.  Not once had he been able to
envision anyone replacing Lucy.

But suddenly, on a stark, gray March morning, he couldn't escape the
knowledge that he and Lucy had never been lovers.  Not truly.  He'd
ignored that simple fact for twenty-five years now.  Nothing he had
tried, not all the love and caring between them, had been able to heal
whatever was broken in her, or whatever she was missing.  And he had
tried.  Forcing himself to face a truth he'd been turning a blind eye
to for so long, he made himself look at his efforts, and made himself
accept that it wasn't his fault.  Lucy had been the way she had been.
That was the sum of it.  And he had loved her enough to ignore the
problem as if it didn't matter to him, either.

His hands cleric lied into fists now as a deel5 fissure in him started,
finally, to heal.  Jess had started that healing, he realized.  A woman
scarcely 'older than his daughter, a woman utterly without experience,
had given him the inestimable gift 'of knowing at long last that there
was nothing wrong with him, that he was not a failure as a man.
"Arlen?"

The sleepy murmur brought him to the bedside.  "I'm here, Jessie."  He
felt himself smile as he looked down into her sleepy, hardly jawake
face.  She didn't know, he was.  sure, that her last movement had bared
her to the waist.  NOt wanting her to discover it awkwardly--hell,
wanting even more to feel her satin skin on his, he knelt over her on
the bed and sought her mouth with his.

"Mmm..."  She welcomed his kiss languorously, opening her mouth
readily, waking to voluptuous sensation even before she awoke to the
day.

When her hands rose to his shoulders, and began to knead lazily, Arlen
lowered himself to his elbows and slowly began to rub his chest against
her breasts.  The relaxed openness of her movements told him exactly
how good she was feeling as she woke from the pleasure of sleep to the
pleasure of lovemaking.

'"Good morning,!"  he said softly as he lifted his head.

A slow smile spread across her face, but she didn't open her eyes.
Instead she stretched beneath him like a contented cat.  Arlen felt
again that joyous urge to laugh.

"Beautiful lady," he said huskily, "you keep moving like that and I'll
forget you must be sore."

Now her eyes did open, to sleq~y slits.  "I'm not sore," she murmurS.
"In fact, I'm wondering if I imagined everything."

Now Arlen did laugh, deeply and happily.  "Are you being
provocative?"

"I hope so."  Her eyes opened a little wider, and with her increasing
wakefulness came shyness.  He was sorry to see it.  He almost felt he
was reading her mind.  She didn't think she was sexy enough to entice
him.

"You're provocative with every breath you take," he told her.  Rolling
away from her a little, he grabbed the sheet and pulled it from her,
baring her from head to toe.

Jessica gasped and froze, while a blush burned her face and throat.
Last night, carried away by passion in the dim light, her nudity hadn't
seemed to matter.  This morning was different somehow, as if the gray
light put a sharper edge on reality.  Deep inside, her body pulsed with
longing for his caresses and lovemaking, but her mind was apparently
hung up in a slightly different place.

"There," Arlen said with satisfaction, and smiled into her eyes.  "I
wondered where that blush started.  Now !  know it doesn't start
anywhere.  It just happens everywhere."  '

"Shh."  He brushed a light kiss on her lips and then held her eyes with
his as he trailed his hand to her breast and from there to the silky
curls farther down.  "I don't want you to be shy with me, Jessie.  You
stopped being shy last flight, and we had a wonderful time, didn't
we?"

She nodded, her eyes clinging to his, her teeth worrying her lower lip.
As he boldly slipped a finger into her, her eyelids drooped and her
breath caught, but then her legs relaxed, separating more for him.

"Tender?"  he asked huskily, leaning nearer.

"N-no."

"Sure?"

Even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have prevented her hips from
lifting toward his hand, and she didn't want to.  His touch was swiftly
sweeping her from modesty to avery basic human state.  He pressed the
heel of his hand against her, drawing a groan from her as he stroked
that most sensitive part of her.

"Don't close your eyes, Jessie," he said.  "Look at me.  Let me see
your eyes."  '

And somehow, looking into his gray eyes as his hands did wickedly
wonderful, terribly intimate things to her, she felt her shyness dying.
How could she fail to believe he found her beautiful when he looked at
her like that while pleasuring her?  And when his eyes left hers and
traveled elsewhere, she heard the catching of his breath and felt the
tensing of his muscles, and she felt proud of her body for the first
time in her life.  For the moment, at any rate, that was enough.  She
completely forgot everything in her rising passion for this man.  When
he was at last sheathed in her, she had one last moment to think how
lucky, how very lucky, she was that Arlen had come into her life.

Arlen was tugging on his jeans for the second tinge that morning when
he peered out the window and saw that his cigarette-smoking,
dog-walking friend was still down there, propped against the lamp post.
And that was when his neck started prickling.  That man had been out
there for more than an hour and a half.  Not even the dumbest dog would
have found those bushes that interesting.

Jessie came into the room, and he glanced at her to find her flushed
from her shower, hair wrapped in a towel, robe wrapped snugly around
her.

"What does your neighbor across the street look like?"  Arlen asked her
in what he hoped was a casual tone.

"Ordinary," she answered absently.  Coming over to the window beside
Arlen, she followed his gaze down to the man across the street.  "Oh,
him?  He not one of my neighbors.  I don't know who he is, but he walks
his dog here from time to time: Probably visiting someone."

She turned away and made it two steps before she paused and looked back
at him, her eyes suddenly huge.  "You said someone had probably been
watching me He wanted to kick himself for allowing her to make that
connection.  He'd been hoping she would think the question pointless
and casual.  Now it was too late to back-pedal.  Jessica Kilmer was no
fool.

He hauled her into his arms.  "Jess, the reason I came over last night
is that I was a little ... worried, so I came over to check things out.
I only planned to be.  here a short time because, well, frankly~ I
figured you'd be so mad at me you'd throw me out."

She tilted her head 'back and looked up at him with a faint frown.  "I
see."  Oh, God, she did see, and what she was seeing clamped a painful
vise around her heart.  He had come only because it was his job.  He
had expected her to throw him out, not to welcome him as she had.  He
hadn't come for her.  "Why..."  She had to clear her throat to find her
voice, and then she started again.  "Why did you think I would throw
you out?"

"Well, hell," he said impatiently, and ran his fingers through his
tousled hair.  Jessie might have smiled if she hadn't been hurting so
badly.  "I stood you up, right?  And you took your damn phone off the
hook, which is what got me worried in the first place.  I mean, I
realized you had every right not to want to talk to me, but I couldn't
quite convince myself you would do something like that."  He gave a
short laugh.

"Anyhow," he continued, "" I got uptight, and I came over here to make
sure you were okay.  And, like a damn idiot, I left my car parked out
front.  "

"So?"  She looked up at him in perplexity, swallowing against her
disappointment and hurt.

"So if that guy is keeping.  an eye on you for some reason, I just
threw a monkey wrench in the works."

"Oh."  She should, she realized dimly, be upset by this development.
She should be frightened that somebody had been watching her, and might
now watch her even more closely because of Arlen's presence.
Emotionally, however, she could cope with only one thing at a time, and
right now she was barely coping with the knowledge that Arlen hadn't
come last night to be with her.

She forced herself to turn away and pulled the towel from her head.
Long, damp ropes of dark hair fell all the way to her hips.

"You get along pretty well without your glasses, don't you?"  he
remarked as she sat at her dressing table.

"My eyes aren't that bad."  She picked up a brush and started working
at the ends of her long hair.  "Everything's kind of fuzzy right now,
sort of like that cheesecloth blur they use on older actresses in the
movies."  Every beat of her heart hurt.  She couldn't see him clearly,
thank God, but she could feel him behind herr could sense the way he
was focused on her.  Why couldn't he just go take a shower or something
and give her a few minutes to cope with the death of a barely born
dream?

"Why did you take your phone off the hook, Jessie?"  From the way she
had welcomed him, he didn't think she had been angry enough at him to
do that.  ~

"I didn't."  She compressed her lips, and her fingers tightened around
the brush handle until her knuckles turned white.  "I must have hung it
up wrong.  I was a little... upset."

Abruptly she slammed the brush down on her dressing table.  "Sorry,"
she said bitterly.  "Next time I'll make sure to hang it up right.  If
I weren't such a damn fool, you never would have come to check up on
me."

"Jessie?"  He stepped closer, startled and confused by her anger and
her words.  "Jessie, what's wrong?"

"Wrong?  Why should anything be wrong?"  Her voice rose, and her lower
lip started to quiver.  "I spent the night with a man who just told me
he didn't want to spend the night with me."

"What?"  Stunned, Arlen simply stared at her reflection in the
mirror.

"Forget it, Arlen.  You gave yourself away.  You only came over here
because it's your job."  Fighting valiantly against the tears, she bit
her lower lip until it hurt.  Pressure grew in her chest, so heavy and
tight that she had to battle for breath.

Seconds ticked away in utter silence before Arlen at last spoke.  When
he did, his voice was a low, hard growl, unlike any tone she had ever
heard from him.

"Damn you, Jessie," he said harshly.  "I just spent the might engaged
in the most unprofessional conduct of my entire career.  How dare you
suggest I was doing my job.)"

Her breath wedged in her throat, and her heart slammed -forcefully.
Before a sound could escape her, Arlen turned away.

"Where are your glasses?"  he said curtly.  "Tn get them for you."

"Downstairs on the coffee table."  Her voice came out thin, squeezed
past the lump in her throaL God, what had she done?

He would undoubtedly leave very soon.  Up until yesterday afternoon he
had shown a great deal of resistance to the whole idea of any kind of
relationship, and he was still wearing his wedding ring--which ought to
make her feel a little like the Other Woman, but somehow didn't.  She
just wished she could understand why he had stayed the night with her.
If it wasn't his job, then what was it?  What had broken down his
resistance and banished his objections?

Her hand paused in brushing, and she stared at her slightly blurry
reflection.  It suddenly occurred to her that she'd given up quite a
few romantic dreams last night.  She'd always cherished visions of
romantic dates, of Suddenly angry at herself, she yanked the brush
through a tangle and winced.  Ridiculous.  Experiences like last night
and this morning didn't grow on trees.  She wasn't naive enougl~to
think that just any man could have made her feel the things Arlen had
made her feel.  Nor did she think his kind of patience and gentleness
were found on every corner.  Arlen's lovemaking was worth a thousand
romantic dinner dates.

Grow up, Jessie, she thought angrily.  Stop thinking like a romantic
child, This is real life, and real life is never perfect.  Whatever his
reason, no matter why he had come to her last night, Arlen had given
her an experience that was precious beyond words.  And if he had used
her, he had given back exactly what he had taken, unlike Chuck so many
years ago.

Closing her eyes, she drew several deep~ steadying breaths.  She prided
herself on her practicality, on her, realistic approach to life.
Realistically speaking, she was going to hurt whether this relationship
ended now or ended later.  Like it or not, her emotions were involved
with this difficult man.  So, knowing that, why end it sooner?  Why not
seize the mo men seize the joys and pleasures he offered?  Why not
worry about tomorrow tomorrow?  Just this once in her life, why not
reach out with both hands for-the day~

"Jessie?"  Aden came into the room behind her and handed her glasses to
her.  "Do you have any phones besides the one downstairs?"

She slipped her glasses on and enjoyed her first clear sight of him
since yesterday afternoon.  That chest was even more impressive than
'she'd thought.  She had to draw yet another steadying breath, but this
one eased the tightness in her throat and allowed her to take pleasure
in looking at him.

"Jess?"  Aden broke into her thoughts.

She lifted her eyes to his, color flaming in her cheeks.  you want me
to pay attention, you'd better put a shirt on and button your jeans.
"

From pu~.  lement, his expression turned slowly into a smile that was
laced with more than a little, relief.  He had been tempted to storm
out a little while ago, angrier than he had been in a long time because
of her accusation.  During his few minutes downstairs, however, he had
calmed down enough to remember just what it was he had done last night.
He had made love to a vulnerable, inexperienced young woman.  He owed
her.  He also owed it to her to make allowances for the fact that this
morning she was apt to be hypersensitive and unusually emotional, and
that she had plenty of justification for it--both his actions and the
unknown watcher's.

Arlen bent over her from behind, cupping her breasts through her robe
and kissing the curve between her neck and shoulder.  "You're quite a
distraction yourself," he murmured.  "Jess, I hate to be a pain, but do
you have any phones besides the one downstairs on the phone table?"

His hands slipped from her breasts to her waist as he spoke, and
Jessica felt that it was once again possible to breathe.

"I have two other phones."  Her bright eyes questioned him.  She might
not have known him long, but she'd quickly realized he didn't ask idle
questions.  "Why?"

He straightened.  "Maybe nothing.  Where are they?"

"There's one in my study across the hall, and the Other one is in the
kitchen, in the co ruer between the pantry and the refrigerator.  I
can't imagine why anyone would put a phone in there, but somebody
did."

"Okay.  I'll be right back."  He spoke casually, but he could see she
wasn't buying it.  That was the problem when you dealt with somebody as
intelligent as Jessie.  They weren't easily misled or diverted.  In his
business he didn't deal with too many summa cum laude graduates, but it
occurred to him that the FBI might be wise to devise special methods
for them.  Casual obviously wasn't making it.

Jessica tried to restrain h6r curiosity, telling herself that Arlen was
the agent, he should be left to do what he felt necessary without her
interference, that he would certainly tell her anything that affected
her .  She set her brush down and followed him to the study.  She just
plain didn't feel that trusting this morning.

It didn't soothe her at all to find him kneeling beside her desk,
staring at the telephone receiver as if it were a snake.  Did he have
any idea just how low his jeans were riding on his buns?  Did he have
any idea just how gorgeous his buns were?

"What is it?"  she asked.

"Just a minute, Jess," he said.  "Let me figure out the parameters of
the mess before I shoot off my mouth."

She smiled faintly at that.  "Mess, huh?  Big or little?"

"I'm hoping like hell it's little, but the back of my neck is telling
me it's bigger than" -He broke off for lack of a non obscene expression
to use.

"What does the back of your neck have to do with anything?"

Realizing he had said something he hadn't meant to, Ar-len cursed under
his breath.  "You didn't come up here last night after I called you?"

"No."  Jessica stepped closer, and now the back of her neck was
prickling.  "Arlen, what's going on?"  But she had already guessed.
Heck, she knew.  She'd known at some level below conscious thought ever
since he'd asked if she had any other phones.  She just hadn't wanted
to know.  Now she wanted him to look up and laugh and say her phones
were out of order, but she knew he wasn't going to.  "This phone is
hooked up to your modem, right?"

"Show me the setup."

She showed him how the modem was plugged in to the phone connection in
the wall, and how the phone was plugged in to the modem.

"Simple," he muttered.  "When you use the modem, is the phone
disconnected in any way?  Does the modem Shut it down?"

"No.  In fact, you can pick up the receiver and listen to the modem if
you want to.  Once I left the modem on by accident when I called a
friend.  As soon as my friend picked up her phone, the modem sent out
its carrier signal, but I was able to talk to her right over it through
the phone receiver."

Arlen straightened and pulled a Swiss army knife out of his front
pocket.  While Jessica peered over his shoulder, he pried at the
handset of her phone.

"What are you doing?"  she asked.

"I want to look inside."

With a soft pop the handset fell apart, and Jessie looked at a maze of
wires and a few small metallic things that looked like thick buttons,
or disks.

Arlen lifted one of the round metallic cases.  "What do you use your
modem for, Jessie?"

The question sounded casual, but she wasn't buying it.  "Mostly I have
fun.  Bulletin boards, that kind of thing.  I have a few f~friends I
communicate with.  Sometimes I access the national forums for
information of some kind:'

"You don't do an3/of your work on it, though?"

"Absolutely not!"  Jessica was appalled.  "Arlen, the work I do is
classified.  I'd be breaking every regulation and" -- ~

'"Okay.  I had to ask."  He glanced up at her with a smile that failed
to make it past the corners of his mouth.  Then he put her phone back
together.  "Got any coffee?"

"Sure."  She frowned at him, not liking the way he was trying to change
tacks, but willing for the moment to let him.  Arlen usually had a
mason for what he did.  "What would you like for breakfast?  I'd better
warn you, I'm short on really good stuff, like eggs and bacon."

"I haven't eaten an egg in nearly ten years," he said as he stood. "How
about oatmeal?"

There was oatmeal in her cupboard, and he insisted on making it himself
in the microwave, while she toasted her usual English muffin.

They ate at her small kitchen table.  Jessica managed to restrain her
impatience until he settled back in his chair with his second cup of
coffee.

"Okay," she said.  '"What's going on?  Come on, Arlen, I'm going to
scream.  Do you think I don't know you found out I was being bugged?
For crying out loud, tell me; What tipped you of~"

He frowned fain fly and hesitated, but only briefly.  "Well," he said
slowly, "I came down hereto hang up the phone I thought was off the
hook.  Only it wasn't off the hook.  I reseated it a couple of times
and still got an empty, dead line.  It could have been something wrong
with just that phone~ or it could have been that one of your other
phones was off the hook."

"But they could nit have been," Jessica objected.  "I didn't touch
either of them after you called, and you couldn't have gotten through
to me if one of them had been off the hook."

"Precisely."

Jessica didn't think she'd ever seen him look so grim.  "Arlen, let me
be perfectly frank here.  I am not dumb.  I am, however, running into
some kind of mental stone wall on this.  I don't want to believe what
my mind is telling me Is going on here.  So please, just tell me
words."

Maybe, just maybe, if he said it out loud her mind would stop trying to
reject it, and then maybe she could get down to .  what?  Coping?  How
the hell did somebody cope with something like this?

He shook his head.  "The phone upstairs in your computer room was off
the hook, as if somebody hadn't reseated it in the cradle exactly the
right way.  Once I hung it up, the line reopened."

"Then..."  Jessica's voice trailed off as she realized that the obvious
thing wasn't possible.  "Arlen?"

"It appears," he said flatly, "that someone was in this house last
night between the time I called you to tell you I wasn't coming and the
time I called and found the line busy."

He had said exactly what she had feared, and he had made it real.  Cold
fingers of dread gripped her spine, and she wrapped her arms around
herself.  She wanted desperately to deny i~, to argue with him, but not
even in desperation could she believe for half a second that Arlen was
the kind of person who could tell her something like that if he wasn't
absolutely convinced of its truth.  "Why?"  The word was a bare
whisper.

Arlen scooted his chair around the table and sat right beside Jessica,
wrapping his arm around her shoulders.  "Just to put a bug in your
upstairs telephone.  He bugged the one in the hall, too, but he missed
the one by the fridge."

"You're sure' they're bugs?"  The words emerged as a jerky whisper.  A
stupid, dumb question.  What else could they possibly be?

"The Bureau uses the same kind."

Her eyes lifted to his, and he saw how hard she was trying to contain
her fright, He touched her cheek, tucked a strand of hair behind her
ear.  "Jessie, honey, he didn't want to hurt you.  That's obvious.  You
were completely vulnerable, and he didn't even wake you.  You don't
have to be afraid of that."  Damn, if only he could make all this go
away for her.

"No," she whispered.  "I just have to live with the idea that some
perfect stranger came into my house while I was sleeping... that he
could come again, any time he wants.  That maybe next time..."  She
buried her face against his shoulder, and her hands clenched into
fists.  "I don't think I can stand it," she said tautly.  "I don't
think I can stand it."

"You won't be alone," he promised rashly.  "Jessie, I swear you won't
be alone."

She tugged back from him and laughed almost harshly.  "Right.  When the
thing you most want is to get out of here before things get messy.  You
told me there was no danger in being a double agent, Arlen.  This
doesn't qualify as danger?"

The thing you most want is to get out of here before things get messy.
It was a hell of an indictment, and there was more than an ounce of
truth in it.  Reaching out wiih both hands,.  he caught Jessie's face
between them and pulled her mouth to his.  He kissed her hard, with
passion and some of the emotional uneasiness he felt.  "It's already
messy, sweetheart," he said roughly.  "It'll probably get downright
filthy, but I'm in for the count.  You'll have to throw me out.  I told
you, the Bureau will protect you."

An eternity passed during the moments while Jessica stared unblinkingly
at him.  Well, you couldn't get much clearer than that.  The Bureau
would protect her.  Arlen would protect her because it was his job.
Something inside her felt as if it were dying, but she didn't know if
it was Arlen's choice of words that was killing it or the knowledge
that her life had just slipped out of her control.  Somebody was
watching her; somebody had bugged her telephones.  Somebody was deadly
serious.

At long last something inside her let go a little, and her lower lip
quivered.  Drawing a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment and
gathered her resources, such as they were.  When she felt reasonably
calm she sat back in her chair.

"And what about the intruder?"  she asked in a fairly level voice.
"What do you think that's all about?"

Arlen lifted one of her hands and studied her delicate fingers.  Clever
fingers, as he'd discovered.  "Jessie, let's put that subject on the
back burner for a bit.  We'll talk about

Set:ious Risks it later.  " Looking at her, he' smiled ruefully.  "
Right now I'd just be shooting o~f my mouth, the kind of wild
speculation that never gets anybody anywhere.  I need t9 just let it
simmer a while, okay?  "

She nodded, keeping her eyes on his face.

"In the meantime there are a couple of things I want to do.  First, I
want us to go together to my place.  I need to change into some fresh
clothes, and I want to pack a suit-' case to bring back here."  He saw
the surprise in her eyes.  "I told you, you won't he alone.  I meant
it.  I'm here for the duration."

An unhappy smile curved her lips.  Just do' rag his job again, of
course.

"Then I want to go to the hardware store and get dead bolts for your
doors.  You have no idea how easily I got in here last night."

She tried to repress a shudder.  "I'm beginning to get a notion."

"I plan to take care of that," he assured her.  "Okay?"

" Jessica nodded.  Something inside her had frozen up,~ as if she had
used up all her reactions for the time being.  After Arlen squeezed her
hand and let it go, she moved it back onto her lap and turned her head
to look out the window at the backyard.  Rain still fell in a steady
drizzle, and the sky promised no improvement..

"Jessie?"

She looked at Arlen and saw he was frowning at her.  "You know, I
thought I'd finally made it."

"Made it how?"  He never took his eyes from her.  Somehow there was
more going on here than her very justifiable distress about what had
happened.  She'd been struck in some other way, and he hoped for a clue
so he could help her with it.

Jessica shrugged, '~ It doesn't really matter.  " Again she looked
away.

"Jessie, talk to me."

"Why bother?"  she Said harshly.  "Aren't things already messy enough?
Anyway, I told you I was a coward."

But he didn't believe it was cowardice that put that ineffably sad look
on her face.  Damn, she looked like someone who'd just seen the death
of all her dreams.

The cigarette smoker across the street had vanished by the time Arlen
and Jessica left her house, but arlen was sure the surveillance was
continuing from some other direction.  They would want to know about
him, about why he'd shown up sometime during the night right after th~
placed theft bugs.  He reassured them by draping his arm around
Jessica's shoulders as they hurried down the wet walk.

Jessica didn't want to go to Arlen's apartment, but he offered no other
option.  She was in no mood now to face the specters of his past.  She
had gone from the heights to the depths in an amazingly short time.

She had awakened this morning feeling positively exuberant about the
night just past.  She'd never dreamed that lovemaking could be so
incredibly magical.  Just as astonishing, though, was the amazing sense
of freedom it had given her.  She had lain with a man, naked skin to
naked' skin.  They had engaged in an act of shattering intimacy,
demolishing barriers she hadn't'been aware of until they were gone.

Little champagne bubbles of joy had seemed to rise in her, tickling
every nerve ending.  She had actually made love with this man!  She had
been wrapped in his arms and he in hers.  This highly controlled,
experienced man had shuddered and groaned at her naive touches, had
actually begged her to touch him again.  When she remembered his
encouraging whispers, the way he had gently guided her, everything
inside her clenched in painfully exquisite longing.

But now she felt horrifically fragile.  Reality had shattered all her
wonder and joy.  Arlen was an agent on a ease, and she was part of that
case.  She had only herself to blame for losing sight of that very
significant fact.  There was no excuse for her shock this morning when
the order of his priorities had been made clear to her.  Whatever he
might feel for her, and she did him the justice of thinking he felt
something,~ he was first and foremost an agent.  First and foremost a
man who didn't want any entanglements.  Hadn't he told her so, more
than once?

When they arrived at his apartment, Jessica wanted to stay in the ear.
She didn't Want to face those ghosts again.  Not on top of everything
else.  ~

"Absolutely not," Arlen said flatly,

His refusal to let her wait in the car inadvertently re-yea led that he
was worried about her safety.  She felt her tension hike another notch.
Was she actually 'supposed.  to endure this?

"You told me I'd be in no danger," she~ reminded him as she stood in
the middle of the living room and watched him lock the door behind him.
That made her edgier.

He was smiling lopsidedly as he faced her.  "You sore?"  he asked.

Puzzled, Jessica shook her head.  Actually, she was a little sore, but
not enough to complain about.

"Good," Arlen said.  As he walked toward her,~he tugged his shirt
off.

Jessica swallowed and filled her eyes with the sight of smooth skin and
lean muscles.  She swallowed even harder when he stopped right in front
of her and unbuckled his belt.  Somehow, when she looked at him, it
didn't seem to matter that she was just a job to him.

"You're in danger, all right," he said gruffly as he popped the snap
and tugged down the zipper of his jeans.

' From me.  " ~'

Jessica's eyes snapped up to his face and found nothing but sincerity.
He leaned forward and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"However" he said as he straightened, "I don't think you're ready for
what I have in mind, so I'll just go take my shower alone."

Jessica watched him disappear down a short hallway.  Her heart was
beating heavily, and her blood felt as thick as molasses with desire.
She wanted to lie down with him again.  She wanted to run her palms
over his warm, smooth skin, to feel the roughness of his legs against
hers, to.  Instead he'd left her here with all his cherished reminders
of why he didn't want to get involved.  Muttering a very unladylike
word, she plopped onto his couch and looked away from the photo of Lucy
Coulter.

Damn it, Jessica thought.  Damn, damn, damn.  All he had to do was kiss
her or look at her in that certain suggestive way and she forgot
everything but her hunger for him.  Damn, it was unreal!

And she had no one to blame for this but herself.  He'd warned her. How
many warnings did she need, anyway?  He'd been up front about his ring,
and he sure as hell hadn't been subtle about it when he brought her
here on Friday and showed her his shrine.  He'd even come right out and
said it in so many words: he wasn't in it for the long haul anymore. 
He'd said that right to her face.

Stretched out on her back, head propped on the arm of the sofa, Jessica
found herself looking at the picture of his daughter, Melanie.  She and
Melanie were definitely contemporaries, and she could see that that
might be a big stumbling block for Arlen.

As for his wife.  Deliberately Jessica turned her head and looked at
the photo of Lucy Coulter that satori the table by the easy chair.  It
was stupid to envy the dead, but Jessica admitted to envying Lucy
Coulter.  Arlen's wife had had twenty years of steadfast love of the
kind Jessica could only imag5me.  In fact, she was feeling a whole
bunch of unpleasant, immature feelings she had never felt before,
everything from jealousy to possessiveness to anger.

"Damn."  She sighed and turned her attention to the ceding.  Maybe he
hadn't brought her here because he was concerned about her safety.
Maybe he'd brought her to remind her.

That idea hurt.  it hurt so badly that she felt the prickle of tears.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she turned her face to the back of the couch
and confronted her own folly.  In spite of repeated warnings, she'd
given this man everything.  And now, now when she ought to heed her
common sense, she was unable to turn her back and walk away.  She
needed him!  And that was the worst folly of all.

Was it really too much to wish he was moving in with her because he
wanted to be with her, not because he felt honor bound to protect her?
Was it too much to wish that his motive was clear rather than so
muddied?

"Jessie."

The husky murmur preceded the gentle touch of finger-.  tips on her
cheek.  She felt the couch dip as Arlen perched beside her and turned
her face toward him.  Straggling againsta tangle of emotions, she kept
her eyes closed.

"Aw, Jessie," he said gruffly, and the next thing she knew she was
sitting up within the tight circle of his arms, held snugly against his
hard chest.  He smelled like soap, and his T-shirt smelled a little
like bleach, and his touch was somehow so reassuring and comforting
that the tears came anyway.

"I know," he murmured, rocking her gently, stroking her hair, rubbing
her back soothingly.  "I know, honey.  It's all too damn much at once."
And he d/d know.  What twenty-one years of marriage hadn't taught him,
twenty-three years of raising a daughter had.  A woman who'd just given
her virginity ought to be able to snuggle up to the man who'd taken it
and worry about nothing at all.  She ought to be able to savor her
changes and try out her new powers, and by God somebody ought to be
pouring champagne and telling her she'd made him feel like a king, like
a conqueror, Ytke Tarzan.

Instead she'd learned that her phones were tapped, that her house had
been invaded by strangers while she slept and that she was be' rag
watched.

And 'then he had brought her here.  Looking at Lucy's photo, Arlen
tightened his arms around Jessica.  Eventually, he thought, you had to
let some things go.  Eventually he would have to let Lucy go.  He
wasn't quite ready, he admitted, to take that portrait and put it away,
but that didn't give him the right to hurt the woman who was in his
arms, He was being unfaithful not to Lucy, who was gone, but to
Jessica, who was here.

Jessica spoke on a broken sob.  "I feel so dumb .... "

"Shh.  You're not dumb, Jessie.  Not dumb at all."  He ifilted her face
up and kissed away her tears, acknowledging how much he had missed
being needed.  How much he needed to once again bring a smile to a
woman's face, how much he wanted to kiss away tears.  and how damn
tired he was of being alone.  "It's been a rough morning," he said, and
wiped away the last tear with a fingertip.

"Yeah."  She sniffled.  So rough she couldn't even decide which part
was roughest.

"I told you once before that the whole Bureau would be looking out for
you if you agreed to help us.  I meant it, Jessie.  After what I found
this morning, you can count on never being alone for a minute."

The damn job again.  She was getting sick of hearing about the Bureau.
It was, however, an inescapable fact of her life at the moment, and she
would be foolish to ignore reality just because she was emotionally
tender.  She leaned back a little to better see Arlen's face, but he
didn't loosen his hold on her.  When she spoke, she sounded incredibly
weary.  "Then the res danger."

"I don't know," he said honestly.  '~"All I know is that those bugs and
the fact that somebody entered your house just don't fit the usual
recruitment scenario.  Something else is going on, and it ma ~kc~, me
uneasy as hell."

"That's Why you didn t want me to stay there alone?"  He shook his
head.  "Not entirely.  The fact is, I don't know how many bugs there
may be in the place, but it's safest to assume the ones in the phones
aren't the whole thing."

"Can't you find out?"  The idea of her whole house being bugged struck
at her in deep, painful ways.  She felt so victimized.

"Honey, I could look, but I couldn't be sure I found everything.  And,
unlike in the movies, an electronic sweep isn't something that can be
done in a couple of hours.  It takes days to sweep a single room.  And
even that's no guarantee, because it's possible for somebody to sit
across the street with a microphone that can pick up the vibrations of
the windowpanes and hear every word you say.  And that's why I wanted
you to come with me.  Part of the reason.  We need to talk about this,
and for the time being I don't think we ought to do it there."

Serious Ri~k~ 1~

He stroked her cheek with his fingers, hating the horror and pain he
saw in her eyes.  "Jessie, honestly, I really don't think anybody's go'
rag to be listening.  I truthfully think the phone bugs are the sum of
it."

"Why?"

"Because you live there alone.  Nobody would be interested in' anything
you might say to yourself.  I just want us to be cautious, that's
all."

That made sense, and ~a hard knot inside her eased a hair.  "But now
they know about you."

"I took some precautions.  Relax.  Nobody will get in there without me
knowing about it now."

"Relax?  Arlen, I don't want people I don't know listening to anything
I say!"

"I know, Jessie.  I know."

"You don't know, Arlen.  You can't know.  You can't possibly understand
how this makes me feel."

"Then tell me, Jessie.  Tell me."  He cradled her head against his
shoulder, f~eting the tension in her.

"The only home I ever had until now was when I was little," She said
after a moment, wondering how she could possibly~ make anyone
understand.  "My daddy was a roughneck in the West Texas oilfields.  We
lived in Midland, and Daddy would come in from the fields on weekends.
I can still remember the way he used to come through the door.  He was
a big man, really big, with huge hands, and he used to pick me right up
and swing me in circles over his head until my sides ached from
laughing.  Then he'd set me down and pick Mamma up and kiss: her till
she turned all pink.,"

Feeling shy again, she stole an upward look at Arlen and found him
listening intently.  Reassured, she plunged on.

"Anyhow, Daddy was killed in a well blowout when I was seven.  Mamma
and I went to live with Daddy's mother.  $!~e really didn't want us
there, and she was forever saying so, but I don't think Mamma ever
heard her, or ever cared.  Mamma just started drinking, and she pretty
much kept to her room and stayed drunk."

Arlen's arms tightened around her, as if he could shelter her from
remembered pain.

"Basically," Jessica said, "it wasn't a home.  It was a place where I
slept and did chores to earn my keep.  And when I got older, my
grandmother started to get suspicious.  I don't know if I actually did
something to start her off, or if she just got a little crazy, but she
started rifling my belongings nearly every day" and she listened in on
every one of my phone calls.  I can t tell you how hard I worked to
graduate early and get a scholarship so I could go away to college.
Arlen, I can't stand the thought of anybody doing that to me again. "

He smoothed her hair back from her face and then looked down into her
brown eyes with an intensity that left no doubt about his sincerity. "I
can't stop them from listening,.  Jessie, but I promise I'll get them. 
I'll see that they pay for it."

His words touched her so deeply that she once again had to blink back
tears.  "I won't hold you to that.  I know how hard it is to get
criminals for anything these days."  Closing her eyes, she leaned into
the comfort of his warmth and strength and tried to let go of her anger
and fear.  "I don't suppose I can just move into an apartment
somewhere?"

"No."  The single, word conveyed Arlen's regret sand determination.
"Don t you see, Jessie?  Right now you're our only link with this
person or persons.  Somebody is obviously very interested in you, but
if we let him know we're on to him, he's apt to vanish back into the
woodwork and turn his attention elsewhere.  Right now you're the only
lead we've got."

"So' I'm bait."  She shivered.

"I'll take care of you."

And then, becauSe he couldn't stand the tension between the an another
minute, because he felt responsible for wounding her, because he wanted
her to smile for him, he scooped her up from the couch and carried her
into his bedroom.  It was all he had to give her, but he would give her
the absolute best that was in him.  He would make her forget everything
else.

When Aden laid her down on his bed, Jessie was almost afraid to open
her eyes, sure that she would see a picture of Lucy Coulter on the
bedside table.  Her heart had risen to her throat and hammered
nervously as she listened to him move around.  He closed the curtains
against the gray day; the sound was unmistakable.  Then he sat on the
edge of the bed beside her.

"Jessie," he said gently,

Her bright brown eyes opened and met his, and in them he saw her fears
and her questions.  He waited as she darted nervous-glances around,
taking in the sterility, the lack of color.  The lack of photographs.
When her gaze returned to his, he cupped her cheek with his palm and
gave her the only reassurance he could.

"I've never shared this bed with anyone, Jess."

Jessica squeezed her eyes shut again.  It was silly, she told. herself,
to worry about such things.  The man had loved Lucy, after all.  That
was a fact, and nothing was changed by whether this had been her bed. 
But it mattered anyway, and she wished there was some way to thank him
for understanding that.  Here, at least, there were no ghosts.

Then Arlen began to undress her.  He supposed there were seductive
tricks to undressing a woman, but he had never learned them, and he
wasn't in the mood for that, anyway.  He wanted no seduction, no
tricks, no skills and practiced gestures.  He wanted to get at
something more elemental, more honest.  Something real.

At last she lay naked before him, with her eyes still tightly shut. Her
hands betrayed her, however.  They made restless little movements
against the gray bedspread, movements that told him how difficult it
was for her to pretend passivity.  He started to reach for her, but
then snatched his hands back.  There was something they had to deal
with first, something that had wounded' them both.

"Damn you, Jessie," he said gruffly for the second time that day. "What
kind of man do you take me for?  I'm so damn mad at you I can hardly
stand it."

Her eyes snapped open.  "Then why are you doing this?"  she demanded
hoarsely.  "Is this a punishment?"  The possibility tore at her, and
she thought the pain would kill her.

"Hell!"  he swore fiercely.  "Damn it, woman, I want you to admit you
know better than that.  I want you to admit that I want you.  I want
you to stop putting us both down by believing that I could, that I
would make love to you for any other reason!"

Standing, he yanked at his own clothes and then stood before her
magnificently naked and fully aroused.  "I don't prostitute myself,
Jess."

She gasped, and the color drained from her face.  "I didn't think... I
never meant..."  Oh, God, was that what she had made him think?  Was
that what her fear sounded like?

Arlen sat down on the bed beside her, facing her, but still refusing to
touch her.

"It may be all I have to give a woman, Jessie, but at least it's
honest.  It's truthful.  I want you.  Now, damn it, I want to hear you
admit it!  Admit that I want you!"

She scrambled onto her knees and flung her arms around him, everything
forgotten in the horror of the wound she had given this man.  She
hadn't meant it the way it Such a thought had never occurred to her.
And where, dimly, she heard her voice saying exactly that.

Arlen's fingers tunneled into her hair and clutched her close to his
shoulder.  "Say it," he said hoarsely.  "Flat out.  Just say it,
Jess."

"You want me," she said.  "Say it again."  "You want me."

"Why did I spend the night in your bed, Jessie?"  "Because you want
me."

He sighed, a heavy sigh, then lowered them both to the bed.  "Whatever
else is going on here, Jessie--and I don St.  pretend to have all damn
well be sure of.  I want you."

She thought she could live with that surety as his began to ignite
marvelous fires all over her aching body.  job might be the reason he
was moving in with her.  In fact, it certainly was, since he wasn't
interested in any ments.  His job might be the reason he spent with
her, and the reason he looked after her and watched bver her.  But at
least when he climbed into her bed would believe he was there because
he Wanted to be.  when the job was over and he at last went away, she~
still have that surety to comfort her.  He wanted her.

Chapter 9

The first thing Arlen did on reaching his office Monday morning was tip
his chair back and look out at the sky.  An errant patch of blue winked
at him through chasing clouds, hinting at the possibility of a sunny
day.

Not that he cared.  This morning he felt anything but normal.  His mind
seemed to have gone off to never-never land.  Ben~th the top level of
his thoughts, whispers from the day before made a background symphony.
Jessica had the smoothest, softest skin, the.  "Hell," he muttered, and
swiveled his chair so that he faced his desk.  So what if he had
figured he would never know a weekend like that as long as he lived? So
what if he had believed himself too old, too staid and too rational to
experience anything like that?  The fact was, he had experienced it,
but that was no excuse for acting like a moonstruck calf.

Maybe he ought to send some roses to Jessie .  "Arlen?"  Donna walked
into the office carrying a large brown envelope.  "This came by
messenger from the medical examiner."

Thoughts of Jessica took a back seat to the realization that the M. E.
had found something he considered too ira port ant to trust to the
telephone.  Arlen tore impatiently at the flap and pulled out a manila
folder with a typed note paper-clipped to the front of it.  Five
minutes later he buzzed Donna and told her to ask Lisa and Phil to come
to his office.

"The facility security officer at MTI didn't commit suicide," he told
the two agents as soon as th~ were seated across the desk from him.
"The M.E. says it's definitely murder disguis~l to look like suicide.
He included a bunch of photos I'm going to transmit to the National
Crime Lab for verification, but that's proforma.  I don't expect them
to find any differently."

He tossed half of the stack of photos to Phil and half to Lisa.  "Take
a look.  The key is the ligature mark around the left wrist.  Whoever
did it tried to avoid leaving a mark by using a broad binding, but
Dumbarton found the traces anyhow.  Dave Barron's hands were tied
behind him when he died."

Phil muttered an oath.  "Then there's no powder on his hands,
either?"

"Actually, there is.  Our bad guy is no typical dummy He must have
wrapped Barron's hand around the w~pon and fired the second shot, the
slug we found in the wall just behind Barron's chair, the one that
looked like Barron might have missed on his first try.  There's
definitely powder penetration.  But it doesn't negate the fact that
Barron died with his hands tied behind him."

Lisa finished thumbing through the photos and reached for a diagram of
the bullet's path through Barron's skull.  "Any other tip-off?"

"Dumberton thinks the angle of the bullet penetration is an unlikely
one to result from Barron shooting himself, It's l~ossible, but
doubtful, be.  cause he would have had to get into a strained and
somewhat unnatural position.  There are a dozen easier angles from
which h~ could have shot himself."  '

"But that's not conclusive," Lisa observed.

"No," Aden agreed, "but the ligature marks settle that.  Dumberton says
the blood pooled in the hands behind the

 R~slcs restriction in a way that indicates the binding was removed
after the heart stopped.  "

"That's conclusive," Phil said.  He tossed his stack of photos back
onto the desk.  "And this ties in to the business with the Kilmer
woman?"

"I'm afraid it might."  Arlen was surprised that Phil had drawn the
connection so immediately, but then, Phil was nobody's fool.  The
Kilmer woman.  That was how he ought to think of her while he was
working on the case, but he couldn't manage it.  An image of her long,
silky hair on the pillow this morning flashed before his mind's eye,
and he felt himself stir in response.  Not now!

"Her phones are bugged, and I'm pretty sure her house was being watched
yesterday morning."  He saw Lisa and Phil exchange glances and figured
they had speculated on his relationship with Jessie.  "I don't need to
tell you this isn't a typical recruitment scenario.  It occurred to me
that perhaps Leong's approach to Jessica triggered this other stuff
somehow, although I can't imagine why.  It just seems too damn
coincidental, though, that we could have a recruitment attempt on one
hand and this other hanky-panky on the other, and not have any link
between them.  Top that off with the M.E."  s report, and this is
beginning to look like a hell of a mess.  "

Leaning forward, he retrieved the photos and slipped them into the
envelope.  "It also o~urs to me," he said slowly, "that somebody is
scared to death.  Maybe Barron did something, or threatened to do
something, that scared somebody badly enough to kill him] That could be
a lot of things, of course, but the thing that leaps forcibly to mind
is that Barron was preparing a written report detailing the theft of a
classified document, and that he was planning to submit that report to
us.  His death prevented that.  A little too neatly, to my way of
thinking."

He looked from Lisa, to Phil, then back again.  They were both
listening intently, reserving judgement, so he plunged ahead.  "The
next coincidence is that the document theft Barron was planning to
report happened to involve Jessica Kilmer.  What's more, she refused to
accept Barron's supposition that it was mislaid, and she made a lot of
noise about it."

Phil gave a low whistle.  "You're right.  It's too much coincidence,
especially when she's being watched."

"$o we can assume somebody's running scared," Arlen remarked.  He
lowered his chin to his chest and stared at his hands.  "Damned if I
see how Leong might fit in, though.  Talk about left field."

Leong was till somewhere out in left field twenty minutes later when
Lisa and Phil left Arlen's office.  It was easy enough to build a
scenario of a spy scared enough to murder Barron to prevent him from
calling the FBI.  It was easy to suppose Jessica's phones had been
bugged and that her house was being watched for the same reason, to see
if she turned to the FBI.  Of course, there were little discrepancies,
and there were more than a few questions.  Like why had Barron been
murdered, while a wait-and-see approach had been taken with Jessie?
Would Jessie be in danger if the watchers discovered that Arlen was a
federal agent?

The thought disturbed him more than he wanted to admit.  He almost
wished he hadn't thought of fear as a motive.  A man after money was
fairly predictable as to how he would handle events.  A terrified man
was a loose cannon capable of unpredictable devastation.

Standing, he looked out the window at the street far below.  He
wouldn't, he realized, feel comfortable again until he had Jessie
close, within sight and within reach.  Where he could protect her and
be certain of her safety.  In his arms, her satin thighs against his. A
short, muffled laugh escaped him.  Damn, he thought, there he went
again.  And just what the hell did that say about him?

Jessica arrived for her lunch date with Greg Leong feeling a more than
ordinary amount of edginess.  It wasn't ~o much that she feared this
meeting--Arlen had been insistent that absolutely nothing would happen
except a possible introduction to someone else--but 'it had been a bad
morning from the outset, and she had no hope that lunch would go any
more smoothly.

Lisa Gonzales and Phil Harrigan were already in the Pub, seated at a
central able and facing one another in a way that Jessica imagined gave
them a full view of everything in the restaurant.  Arlen had shown her
file photos of them last night so she would recognize them, and she
supposed they had seen photos of her, too.  She wondered what photos
the FBI had of her and shifted a little uneasily as she wondered how
they had come by them.  MTI had a photo in her personnel file, of
course.  Maybe that was it.

A glance at her watch told her that Leorig was ten minutes late; her
lunch hour was dwindling away.  Deciding not to wait any longer, she
ordered the house salad and iced tea and tried not to look at Phil and
Lisa again.  Somebody else might be watching her, too; Arlen had warned
her of that earlier as they Stood in the chilly morning air beside her
car.  He'd looked so businesslike, so reserved and controlled in his
gray suit.  Every inch the federal agent.  Every seam and button and
hair in place.  Unapproachable.  Unreachable.

And then he'd robbed her of her breath by bending from his great
height, wrapping his arms around her and cupping her bottom in his
large hands.  His own breath had had a ragged, tattered sound as he
pulled her slowly, snugly, deliciously against him for a long moment.

"Hold that thought, Jessie," he'd whispered into her ear, sending a
delectable shiver of anticipation shooting right to her core.

She was holding that thought now as she stared down at a limp-looking
house salad and felt everything inside her go into a tailspin of
longing.

"Miss Kilmer?"

Greg Leong's British-accented voice reached through her pleasurable
haze and jolted her unpleasantly.  Her stomach gave an anxious lurch.
Somehow she managed to invite him to sit and brushed aside his apology
for his tardiness.

"Dr.  Kostermeyer asked me to say hello for him," Leong said after he'd
placed his own order.  "He wants to know if you might be able to come
by the university next week sometime.  He has that reference on
nonlinear response you asked about."

"I'll give him a call," Jessica promised.  "I'm surprised he found it.
I sure didn't give him much to go on."

The conversation continued in a desultory fashion.  With half an ear
Jessica listened to Leong's description of his graduate research.  It
wasn't long before she developed the conviction that he had no more
interest in this meeting than she had.  He, too, was marking time until
he could do whatever it was he'd been sent to do.  That realization
made her even edgier, because it confirmed that Arlen hadn't been
mistaken in his impression that this was a recruitment approach.

And, frankly, she didn't know if she could handle that right now.  It
had been scary enough when she thought it was the only thing going on,
but added to the fact that her phones were bugged and someone had been
watching her house--well, it was just too much.  She struggled with an
overwhelming urge to throw down her napkin and.  tell Leong to get
lost.  She had promised Arlen she would do this, but she wasn't at all
sure she could make it through this one lunch.

And just when she was sure her nerves would force her to take some kind
of action, a large, dark hand clapped down on Leong's shoulder.

"Greg!  How have you been?"

Jessica was never sure afterward what she had expected, but it
certainly hadn't been a government clone type with an Eastern European
accent.

That evening, over dinner at a quiet restaurant, Arlen laughed as she
described her reaction.  "You expected a short, squat, ugly
Neanderthal," he told her.  "Something out of a B movie."

"I guess," she admitted.  "I was surprised that he seemed so normal.
Fashionable.  Even his haircut was the latest style."

"These guys are simply foreign editions of your average' government
agent, Jessie.  Like I told you, no difference between them and us
except ideology.  The last thing they want is to stand out like a sore
thumb."

"Well, he would have passed for a banker or a life insurance
salesman."

Sdrious Risks

Arlen's laughter faded, and he reached across the table to cover her
hand with his.  Dinner out had been as much a necessity as a romantic
invitation.  As a precautionary measure, they couldn't discuss any of
this once they returned to her house.  "Phil and Lisa got a picture of
him.  Who did he say he was?"

"Jan Dobrocek.  He said he's from Czechoslovakia, and that he's
studying mechanical engineering at the university.  He certainly knows
enough about engineering school to substantiate that."

"That wouldn't surprise me."  He'd ordered a white wine, and now he
paused to refill Jessica's glass.  He knew she ~dn't really care for
it, but she was wound up as tight as a top, and she was drinking it
without even realizing it.  For all that her meeting had been boring,
she had invested' a lot of what Arlen called adrenaline time into it.
It was hard to come down from that kind of high.  "A surprising number
of Eastern bloc students also have intelligence missions.  And some
students are also members of intelligence organizations like the KGB
and GRU."

"GRU?"

"Russian army intelligence."

Jessica gave him a faint, embarrassed smile.  "I don't mean to be
naive, Arlen, but with all the easing of tensions lately, and with
things happening like the Berlin Wall coming down, all this
cloak-and-dagger stuff sounds even harder to believe."

"Since perestroika and glasnost, Russian intelligence activities in
this country have increased tenfold.  Spying isn't a matter of
hostility, it's a matter of common sense.  No nation wants to deal from
a position of blindness or weak-n~s.  Plus, we've got a lot of
ted~nology, both military and otherwise, that makes spying a
worthwhile.  activity no matter how friendly we get.  In fact, some of
our best friends spy on us all the time.  Want me to name a few?"

Jessica felt her smile broadening, softening.  She liked it when Aden
got wound up on his hobbyhorse like this.  She wondered if he even knew
it was his hobbyhorse, or that all his earnestness made something
inside her feel warm.  It was nice to know that some people didn't
become cynical and

1 75

uncaring, that some people still believed in the old-fashioned ideals.
She caught herself Ixying to store up every nuance of his expression,
as if she were taking a mental snapshot for posterity.  But then,
posterity was all she would have.  Deliberately, she took another
mental snapshot.

Gray eyes suddenly twinkled at her.  "Are you even listening, Jessie?
Spying is supposed to be fun and exciting."

She wrinkled her nose.  "If lunch was a taste of it, it's going to be
the most boring thing I've ever done."

"I hope it stays that way."  Honest to God, he did.  But he was afraid,
with neck-prickling certainty, that this time the game was following no
known rules.  Foreign intelligence operatives weren't above homicide,
but they invariably reserved it for their own people who strayed or
defected.  Arlen honestly couldn't think of a single instance where an
American on American soil had been injured by a foreign intelligence
operative.

Until Dave Barron.  He was inclined to believe Barron had been killed
by a fellow traitor, but regardless, something truly unusual was going
on.  For the moment, however, he didn't want Jessica worrying about
such things.  He just wanted her to be cautious.  Extraordinarily
cautious.  So how did he casually persuade a brainy lady to act as if
her life was in danger without admitting to her that it actually might
be?

"Arlen?"

Jessie's soft voice roused him from his preoccupation, and he looked
across the table at her perplexed face.

"You're lovely, Jessie," he said abruptly, from the heart.  Her hair
was caught up in that ridiculous knot he had wanted to take down almost
from the minute he laid eyes on it, but suddenly he didn't mind that.
In fact, it was just fine with him if nobody but him ever saw that
shiny, thick, brown glory tumbling down around her hips.  He liked
knowing it was there, knowing he could roach out and pull the pins free
any time he chose.  He liked the pink flush on her silken cheeks and
the small dent in her upper lip, her tiny no~ and her long, thick
eyelashes.  He liked the fact that she wasn't pretty and she wasn't
beautiful.  She was lovely, and that.  was infinitely more precious.

Her blush in response to his compliment made him smile, and he was
tempted to let the whole damn case go to hell while he spent a little
more time telling her things that would deepen her blush.  That,
however, would be foolhardy.  Besotted he might be, but foolhardy he
had never been, and he wasn't about to start.

There was a sober note in his voice that she couldn't ignore.  The FBI
agent was back, serious and grave and very businesslike.

"Give it to me straight," she said.  "I can take it."

One corner of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn't reach his ~yes. "I
want you to be very careful for a while."

The unease that hadn't once left her since the bugs in her phones had
been discover~xi now clenched her stomach in a death grip.  "How
careful?"  she managed to ask steadily.

He'd been right, Arlen thought.  She wasn't going to b~ easily led,. 
or misled.  "Very careful," he repeated.  "I'm sure I'm being overly
cautious, but, some things just aren't adding up right.  That makes me
nervous, so I get ~..  overly cautious."

Jessica's brown eyes never wavered behind her glasses.  "Cut to the
chase.  How cautious?  Am I supposed to act as if there might be a
contract out on me?  You want me to make sure there isn't a car within
half a mile when I cross the street?  Or just something more
reasonable, such as never going anywhere alone?  Come on, Arlen.  Lay
it out for me."

Admiration stirred in him, and he reached across the table, capturing
both her hands in his.  "You're really something else, Jessie
Kilmer."

She licked her lips nervously.  "What I am is scared, and you're
scaring me more by not answering my question."

Her gaze was.  almost beseeching, and he yearned to erase the fears
that were plaguing her, but there was no way he could.  Not now.

"Look," she said.  "I've known since you found the bugs in my phones
yesterday that this is no longer something I'm volunteering for.  Like
it or not, I'm in it up to my neck, and there's no way out.  Whatever
is going on, I'll do what you

5ertous K~sl~ 177

tell me, because that's the smartest thing I can do now.  Just tell me
and get it over with.  And while we're on the sul>-ject, maybe you can
let me in on what's really going on.  I don't like being in the dark.

"I can't tell you what's really going on, Jessie.  Partly because I
don't know much, and partly because what I do know is official
information.  Need to know only."  That was something Lucy had never
understood about his work.  She had always resented the secrecy it
forced on him.  Now he found himself tensing in anticipation of a
similar reaction from Jessica.

It never came.  She looked disappointed, and for an instant her lips
parted, as if she wanted to ask a question, but then she nodded her
acceptance.  "I guess I can understand that.  What is it you want me to
do?"

He squeezed her hands one last time and then released them so the
waiter could serve their dinners.  When they were alone again, he
plunged in.

"You pretty much got it right when you asked if you ought to behave as
if someone has a contract out on you."

Jessica, who had just lifted her fork, immediately set it down.  "I
don't suppose you're exaggerating?"  she asked hopefully.

He smiled wryly.  "Slightly.  I want you to be cautious, honey.  I want
you to avoid being alone, and I want you to avoid going anywhere with
only one other person, myself being the only exception to that rule. To
be perfectly frank, I don't have any concrete reason to believe you
stand in any physical danger, but some things have happened that make
me feel it would be wise to act as if you might be."

"An ounce of prevention."

"That's one way of looking at it.  Honestly, I don't want to alarm you
unduly, but I'll feel a whole lot easier if I know you're being
careful.  On the other hand, I don't think you're in so much danger
that I need to get you a bodyguard.  Okay?"

He hated to do this to her.  There was something unspeakably hurtful
about depriving someone of the basic sense of personal safety that
ought to be a human birthright.  Unfortunately, Arlen could see no way
around it.

Without knowing why Barron had ben killed, it was impossible to
evaluate the risk that Jessica faced.  Nor could he protect her without
her full cooperation.  It wouldn't matter how many agents he surrounded
her with if she wouldn't exercise her own common sense for her own
pro-taction.

"Okay."  Her expression never faltered, but there was a small catch in
her voice as she answered.

He watched her pick up her fork again, and he ached for her, but them
wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.  He was stunned by the burst
of savage possessiveness he suddenly felt for her, and he battled an
urge to simply sweep her up from the gable and carry her away.  He
wasn't used to feeling such caveman impulses--could not, in fact,
remember the last time he had had such an urge.  Unselfled, he stared
at his food as if it had grown mildew.

Arlen looked tired, $e~ssica thought.  Every hair on his head was still
neatly in place, his tie was still carefully knotted, even the front of
his white shirt was still crisp and fresh looking, but there was
something about him that nonetheless said it had ben a long, hard day.
Now here it was dinnertime, and he was still working.

"Is that it?"  she asked.

He looked at her, arching a single dark eyebrow.  "Isn't that
enough?"

Absolutely.  "She summoned a bright smile.  "So now the workday is over
and we can relax?"

For an instant he looked startled, as if he didn't know what to make of
her reaction to all this, but then, gradually, his expression gentled,
and the tension seeped almost visibly out of him.  "Sure," he said.
"Now we can relax, It's ben a hell of a day."

"I thought so," Jessica said gravely.  "I suppose you're used to
working all the time: but I'm not.  My evenings are sacred for
relaxation, and I mean tokecp them that way.  Maybe you ought to try
it."

He gave a short laugh.  "Sure, next time I have time."

"You have time right now."

Again his expression gentled.  "You're right.  I do."

After dinner, instead of going directly to her house as she expected,
he drove them out of town to a secluded hilltop overlooking the lake.
Moonlight turned the water to molten silver, and silvery clouds raced
across the star-studded sky.  A study in chiaroscuro, the night was
breathtaking.

"" Deep in the heart of Texas,"" Arlen murmured.  Turning, he studied
Jessica's profile.  "When was the last time you made out in a car,
Jessie?"

"Never."  She turned her head to look at him.  "My education has been
deficient in some respects.  I'm sure you noticed."

"Nothing I'd call a deficiency."  His voice was soft, husky, as he
reached out and pulled a single pin from her hair.  A heavy lock
tumbled down her shoulder and across her breast.

Her heart began a slow, heavy beating, and she was suddenly' aware that
she was breathing through her mouth, as if she could no longer get
enough air.  He looked so serious in the shadows, so intent as he
reached out yet again and loose fled another lock of hair to tumble
downward.  She took another mental snapshot and tried to block out all
her fears and worries.  Each moment with Arlen was precious, because
they were numbered.  Because there was an inevitable end, she didn't
want to miss a single instant.

"Arlen?"  She spoke his name on an indrawn breath, a soft, hesitant
sound.

"Shh," he answered quietly, and slid toward her.  "Shh.  ~ ."

He captured her head gently between his hands, sifting his fingers into
her hair, turning her mouth up to his.  His lips caressed hers,
brushing lightly back and forth in a movement so gentle and enticing
that she felt her own mouth open in silent demand.

"Shh..."  he murmured again, as if she had said something, and with his
tongue he traced her lips, moistening them, teasing them.

"Arlen..."  She sighed his name and' turned her body toward him,
raising her arms to lay her palms on his chest, to stroke them upward
to his broad shoulders.  Just to feel his strength, his warmth, his
hardness, his reality.  Never had she dreamed how important, how
reassuring, how comforting, such things as a person's scent could be.
The way he smelled, the way he felt beneath her hands, these things had
become familiar already, familiar and incredibly good.  Being close to
him like this filled her with purely emotional warmth and well-being
that had nothing to do with desire.

"Sweet Jessie," he whispered just before his tongue plunged into her
mouth.  It could have been a demanding kiss, but somehow it wasn't.  It
was warm, enticing, arousing and tender, an invitation to play rather
than a seduction.  When his mouth left hers to trail toward her ear,
Jessica snuggled closer and reciprocated, nipping at his earlobe.

A low, husky laugh rumbled up from his chest~ Releasing her head, he
wrapped his arms around her and hugged her close.  "Nope," he said. "No
deficiency at all."

He settled himself more comfortably against the seat and tucked
Jessica's head onto his shoulder.  "There was a time when I would have
taken things a lot farther, but, frankly, I'm too damn old now to get
that turned on in a car.  I guess that's one gap I'll have to leave in
your education, Jessie."

Jessica found a shirt button with her fingers and, taking care not to
let him know what she was doing, eased it from the buttonhole.  "You've
got a real self-image problem," she scolded him.  "You talk like you're
ninety."  Her fingers found another button.

"I guess I've been feeling old," he admitted.  "Damn it, Jess, I'm
going to be a grandfather."

"So?"  She eased the second button free.  "Does that mean you
automatically graduate to a walker and a cane?"

Again that laugh rumbled up from his chest.  "Are you trying to make me
feel dumb?"

"No.  I'm just trying to point out that by today's standards you're
still a young man.  Younger than most grandfathers, I'll bet, and very
likely to be around to be a great-grandfather."  She slipped her hand
inside his shirt, resting her palm against warm, smooth skin.  "I like
your skin," she whispered, suddenly breathless.  Her heart slipped into
high gear, partly at her temerity in touching him like this, and partly
from excitement at his nearness.

"Sneaky lady," he murmured, his voice deepening.  "What are you up
to?"

"I like to touch you," she admitted on a whisper.

"I like you to touch me."  His lips found her forehead, and she didn't
know which stirred her more, the sound of his kiss or the warm feel of
it on her skin.  "Go ahead, Jessie.  Whatever you like."

"I thought you were too old to get turned on in a car?"  she teased
ruthlessly as her hand slid farther into his shirt, approaching but not
quite touching the hub of a very sensitive nipple.

"So I was drowning in self-pity," he muttered, turning a little toward
her.  "Lying, even.  Right now I feel like eighteen."

"Good," she Said with a sigh, drawing the word out.  "Good .... "

Such warm, smooth skin, Jessica thought as she ran her palm over his
ribs and chest.  She knew what he wanted--one of the nice things about
him was that he made no cret of his likes and dislikes--but, for the
moment she withheld it.

"Vixen," he muttered on a truncated laugh.  Catching her chin, he
tilted her face up and bent to plunder her mouth.  They were both still
dressed for the office, but a few extra layers proved to be scant
impediment.  When Jessica next-caught her breath, her beige blouse lay
open, revealing the beige teddy beneath.

Arlen smoothed his palm over her satin-covered breast and felt her
nipple head in response.  "Ah, Jessie," he said unsteadily, "you commit
all your sins in lingerie shops."

"Not anymore."

He laughed again, a rough, low, intimate sound that sent dancing
tingles along her spine.  " Not anymore," he agreed, then planted a
soft, hot kiss at the base of her throat.  "It feels so damn good to
hold you and touch you and taste you .... She knew exactly what he
meant.  She was curling into him, melting into him, yearning for
closer, deeper touches.

The confinement of the car annoyed her; the seat was suddenly
uncomfortable.  She wanted him on her, in her, with a fierceness that
beggared simple passion; She needed the emotion of being his woman,
even if only for a short time.  She needed to feel possessed and
claimed.  And she needed to give him all the comfort and all the
pleasure she might be capable of giving.  She felt expansive, all
woman, all worn-auly.

"Damn!"  Aden muttered the word explosively and caught her tight
against his chest, stilling her.  "Let's go' home," he said thickly.

A small, muffled sound of disappointment escaped her.  "I know," he
murmured.  "But we could get arrested for this, never mind what I'm
thinking about doing."  It was easy to imagine the headline: FBI Agent
Arrested For Public Lewdness.  "The director wouldn't like the
publicity."

"I guess not."  Jessica released her tension in a long, shaky sigh,
then relaxed against him.  "I guess I wouldn't much like it myself."

He kissed her temple and fumbled at the buttons of her blouse,
fastening them.  "You're dynamite, lady," he told her gruffly.

"So are you;"

He gave her a quick, hard kiss, then started the car and headed back
toward town.  A few minutes later he reached over and took her hand,
bringing her palm to rest on his thigh.

It was hard now for her to believe that only a couple of short days ago
~he had sat in ti~ same car a~d wondered what it would be like to be
able to rest her head on his shoulder as she was doing now.  Nor had
her imaginings oven begun to approach the reality.

Of cour.  ~ , a couple of days ago she hadn't been in love.  The
realization settled over her gently, like dandelion puffs or goose
down. And, like a goose down comforter, it felt warm and cuddly. 
Right. Inevitable.  Predestined.

It was going to hu~ eventually, ~md eventually she would feel like a
fool, but right now she wrapped herself in the glow and settled down to
enjoy it.  She had always believed that feelings were something that
happened, that they couldn't be controlled or changed by argument.  If
she loved

Arlen, she loved him, and there was nothing she could do about it
except accept it.  And be careful not to let him know.

The house looked very dark and very empty when Arlen pulled into the
driveway and parked in the rear beside her car.  He turned off the
ignition, and the silence was almost deafening, punctuated Only by the
ticking of the cooling engine.

Suddenly she didn't want to go in there.  She still wanted to be with
Arlen, still wanted to curl up in a private, dark place with him, but
her house suddenly wasn't it.  In there lurked threats of an amorphous
kind.  In there, people listened.  In there, she was watched.

"I'm suddenly feeling very paranoid," She told him.  ~

"I can imagine."  That was the other thing that should be a human
birthright, but, unfortunately, too often wasn't:

the inviolability of privacy, the sanctity of the home.  He,

too, stared up at her house and understood that her dream had been
destroyed.  '

"We could go to my place, Jessie," he suggested, even though he didn't
think it.  would be wise to break her routine.  Startling a nervous
opposition could be dangerous.  He was only human, how fiver and he
hated what he was doing to Jessica.

"No," she answered flatly.  His place was worse.  Hers might be bugged,
but his was haunted.

He bit back promises that he suddenly longed to make, promises about
solving this case, promises about how things would feel normal again,
about how the memory of the violation would fade.  They were promises
he didn't have the power to keep or enforce, so he silenced them, and
in the silence he ached.

Aden Coulter's soul had been meant for a knight-errant.  He had once
cherished dreams of fighting for truth and justice, of righting wrongs
and defending the defenseless.  Life had shown him the vanity of such
aspirations and taught him the dimensions of his own limitations.  It
had not, however, reshaped his soul to fit reality.  Once again he

came up hard against his inability to live up to his own standards.
Once again he faced his human inadequacies.  He could not protect
Jessica in the ways she most needed to be protected.

She sighed and reached for the door latch.  "No point in sitting out
here in the dark," she said firmly.

Aden followed her into the dark kitchen, catching her hand before she
could flip on the light.

"No," he murmured, and carried her hand to his lips.  No lights, no
harsh, glaring reality.  There was more than enough of that to go
around.  Unable to change reality for her, he would banish it for a
while.

There was just enough light seeping through the fan window above the
front door to light their way up the stairs.  In Jessica's room the
shades hadn't been drawn, and moonlight poured through the sheers to
puddle on the floor.  Arlen lighted the scented candle she kept on her
dressing table and then drew the blinds, sealing them into a dimly lit
cocoon.  Yesterday he had brought a large portable tape player from his
apartment and set it on the bedside table.  Tonight he chose Mozart to
drown out any listeners.

"Now," he murmured in her ear, drawing her into the pool of light and
turning her to face the mirror.  "Now we're going to try something."

Jessica's breath caught, and she thought she would never breathe again
as she realized what he was doing.  "Ar-len..."  '

"Shh," he whispered soothingly.  "Shh..."

With a gentle sweep of his hands he slipped the suit jacket from her
shoulders and tossed it onto a chair in the corner.  Her glasses were.
on, and he knew she could see clearly.  He wanted her to see clearly.
He somehow felt that if she could see how he enjoyed touching her, how
much he enjoyed looking at her, perhaps she would come to believe in
her own beauty.

Her blouse slipped away like a wisp of gossamer, and her skirt followed
just as easily, gone almost before she noticed.  He had swept her hair
all to one side, to fall over her shoulder, and he pressed soft, wet
kisses on the nape of her neck.  In the mirror, in the candlelight, she
could see how absorbed he was in each touch, each gesture.  He was
weaving a fantasy around them, she realized with a blossoming ache of
longing.  He was, with his hands and lips, wresting perfection out of
jagged reality.  And with each touch of his hands and lips she sank
deeper into the silky web of beauty he wove around her, into the
feelings that drove away thought.

He paused, stepping away just enough that she could see him in the
mirror, too, and he removed his own clothes, all the layers that made
him a government agent, that shielded him from the world.  W. hen he
returned to her he was naked and hungry and as vulnerable as she was.
Then, with incredibly gentle hands, he took away her last disguise. The
satin teddy vanished, the panty hose disappeared and she stood before
him unadorned.

And then his hands began to make a wicked, enticing journey over her
hills and hollows.

"No, no," he chided gently when her eyelids fluttered closed.
"Watch."

Helplessly she watched, finding it incredibly erotic to see what she
was feeling as his hands shaped her breasts, as his fingers tugged.
gently at beading, aching nipples.  His skin was darker than hers, and
the darkness defined his every movement against the canvas of her pale
skin.  He murmured words of praise in her ear as he stroked her and
petted her, his whispers twining with magical Mozart.

Then he turned them both sideways, face-to-face, so that she could see
how she looked in his arms.  And when she was trembling so hard she was
sure her knees couldn't hold her, he lifted her as if she weighed
nothing at all and carried her toward the bed.

"You shouldn't carry me," she gasped, clinging to his neck.  "Aden, I'm
too heavy!"

"I can't imagine why I spend so much time working out if I can't carry
a neat armful like you to bed," he said, his voice at once heavy with
passion and full with teasing.  He was smiling as he sat on the bed and
then slowly eased her back onto the mattress.  "And you're not nearly
as heavy as you seem to think you are."

A groan escaped her as his mouth found and closed on an aching nipple
and sucked so strongly that she felt it all the way to her center.

Macho, she thought hazily.  No matter how gentle and sensitive and
secure a man was, he still had a streak of macho in him.  He carried
her to bed like a conquest .  With a shiver of longing she surrendered,
reaching for him, grasping him and caressing him.  He needed to be
neexted, he wanted to be wanted, and he hungered for her hunger.  How
she knew these things she had no idea, but she sensed in him a fierce,
deep need, and she answered it by tugging at him, by telling him with
her sighs and cries, with the undulations of her body, that only he
could give her what she needed, and that she needed all he was capable
of giving.

Mozart reached a fantastic crescendo with them, a crescendo that
drowned every other sound.  Only later in the silence did the
foreshadowing of loss pierce Jessica's heart and her joy.  Only later.
Too late.

Chapter 10

Two weeks later, on a rainy Sunday afternoon, Jessica sat in the window
seat on the stair landing and stared down into her backyard, Water
dripped steadily from everything.  It had been a wet spring, but on the
heels of several years of drought, no one was complaining too much.

Downstairs in her kitchen sat an FBI agent from San Antonio.  He had
come to the house yesterday morning shortly after Arlen had left, had
come driving Arlen's sedan and wearing a duplicate set of clothes. Even
his hair was a close match.  From a distance he would pass for Arlen,
as he had been intended to.  His name was Wade Gentry, and he was here
because Arlen refused to let her be alone.

That refusal disturbed Jessica more than anything that had yet
happened.  Two weeks ago Aden had asked her to be careful because
matters were following an unpredictable course.  Since then nothing--at
least, nothing she was aware of--had occurred.

Now, once again, she was faced anew with Arlen's concern for her
safety.  She was also reminded that probably one of the main reasons he
was still staying with her was concern for her safety, not .  other
things.  And she was reminded of his family and his determination not
to become involved again, because this weekend he was visiting his
daughter in Waco.

It was probably silly on her part, but she felt a little hurt that he
hadn't suggested she join him.  Of course, a man didn't want to
introduce his daughter to his mistress, and of course he didn't want to
show up at Melanie's with a strange woman on his arm.  More
importantly, he probably didn't want to expose Melanie to the danger he
appeared certain was swirling around Jessica's head like a dark cloud
of doom.

All of this she could understand, but it hurt, anyway.  And the most
ridiculous thing of all, she told herself sternly, was to feel so
sharply the very pangs that she had known were bound to come from
loving Arlen.  He had made his position clear, but she had persisted in
pursuing him, anyway.  There had been ample opportunity for her to bail
out before things went too far, but she had plunged ahead regardless
and thrown her heart over the moon.

Sighing, she leaned her shoulder against the cool glass and stared down
at the wilderness her backyard seemed to have become almost overnight.
The grass needed cutting desperately, and if it didn't stop raining
soon it would probably be more than her small mower could handle.

This relationship, she admitted with a heavy sigh, was harder than she
had expected.  Two weeks ago, high on the newness of being in love,
she'd believed it would be enough to love Arlen, that she would be
happy with whatever crumbs he chose to give her.  Such foolishness, she
thought now.  Such naivete.

With each passing day she became increasingly aware of all Arlen
withheld from her.  The distance between them could be measured in
years--not the years separating their ages, but the years he felt he
could not give.  She still wanted his crumbs, but she knew they were
crumbs from what could have been a banquet.

She drew up her legs and clasped her arms around them, resting her chin
on her knees.  In fact, she thought, because Arlen was so consistently
courteous, kind and gentle, she'd begun to feel as if she were some
kind of penance he was performing.  Except for that one time, he never
even lowered his guard enough to grow irritated with her, and heaven
knew she had given him cause from time to time.

No, he was the government clone from dawn to dark, and it was beginning
to drive her crazy.  Only when they made love did she feel she came
close to the real man, and even then she felt his restraint.  Some
portion of himself was always kept tightly under lock and key.

She couldn't help wondering if he'd guarded himself this way with his
wife, or if this was something he'd devised to protect himself since
Lucy's death.

And she was beginning to understand how it was that a woman could want
to provoke a man.  She had managed to provoke him into her bed, but now
she needed to provoke him out from behind his emotional walls.  She
needed' to drive him into feeling something.  Anything.  Just so long
as it was strong enough to break down the barriers.

And that might be really dangerous, because he might not return her
feelings.  In fact, when she thought about that she couldn't see any
reason why he should return her feelings.

All of which was an indicator of the confused state of her heart and.
mind, she thought ruefully.  She wanted things from him, yet she was
afraid of the consequences if she got them.  A classic case of the
dithers.

A footstep on the stairs alerted her, and she turned to watch Agent
Gentry come up to her.  For better than twenty-four hours they had
shared the me house yet had hardly shared a word.  On the few occasions
where they'd had to exchange important information, they had done so in
whispers.  Otherwise, they'd kept pretty much to themselves.

Now he squatted beside her on the landing and spoke in a voice that was
little more than a barely audible whisper.

"I'm leaving now, Ms.  Kilmer.  Agent Coulter radioed to tell me he's
on his way and should be here shortly."  Jessica nodded.  "Thank
you."

From the rear he really did look like Arlen, Jessica thought as she
watched him descend the stairs.  Especially from the rear.  No casual
observer was likely 'to note the differences that Jessica
noticed--differences that would have made her blush if she'd had to
describe them to someone else.  His buns, for example.  Or the exact
shape of a denim-covered thigh.  Or the angle of his head when he
paused to took around.  Little things that only someone who knew him
really well would notice.  The little things that made him so unique
that Jessica could have picked him out of a crowd of lookalikes

With another deep sigh Jessica dropped her chin to her knees once
again.  Agent Gentry's footsteps faded from the house, and she heard
the kitchen door close with finality.

She still wasn't alone, though.  Arlen had assured her that the house
was being watched by the Bureau, though he wouldn't say from where.  He
wanted her to feel safer, knowing the FBI was protecting her.  Jessica
wasn't sure it made any difference.  Emotionally she hated knowing that
someone was either watching or listening all the time.  It hardly
mattered anymore whether it was the FBI or the unknown listeners.
Either way, she didn't have a shred of privacy.  Not even in her
bedroom.  There she bit back cries and sighs, and pillow talk was
nearly nonexistent.  Sure, they played music loudly enough to drown out
anything short of utter mayhem, but she held back anyway, because she
couldn't quite forget.  Arlen couldn't know, of course, just how she
was holding herself back, but she knew.  And when he whispered sweet
things in her ear, she whispered nothing back.  It was even worse at
other times," when the music wasn't playing.  They had nothing
approaching a normal conversation unless they were out of the house.
God, what a mess!

Nor would it end until they got whoever was behind the bugs in her
telephones.  She was beginning to think that if she could conceive of
any way at all to force matters, she would.  Somewhere.  along the line
she had lost her fears.  Maybe a person just couldn't stay afraid
forever.  Whatever the reason, she wasn't afraid, but she was tired and
angry, and very, very frustrated.

And not just about having her privacy shot to hell.  Here she was, in
love for the first time in her life, having the big affair of her life,
and she migl~t as well have her grand mother looking over her shoulder
every minute.  She wasn't saying things that should be said, and she
was withholding intimacies and confidences because she wasn't alone
with Arlen.

Which was probably a relief for him, she thought sourly.  After all, he
didn't want to get involved.  She, however, was very much involved and
hated the way this spy business warped everything.  Even if it was all
one-sided, she ought to be able to throw herself wholeheartedly into
what was undoubtedly going to be the best relationship of her life.

Very likely it would be the on/y relationship of her life, she amended
glumly.  She cherished no illusions about her ability to attract the
opposite sex.  Arlen told her she was sexy, he whispered that she was
lovely, and sometimes, in the lamplit bedroom as he hovered over her,
he told her husk fly that she was beautiful.  Jessica, however, prided
herself on an un winking unblinking approach to life.  She was not
delusional, and she would not allow herself to be deluded.

Arlen, she told herself, found her sexy because he was horny and she
was handy.  Handy  Heck, she'd practically hurled herself at him.
Maybe, she allowed, maybe long hair turned him on.  She did.  not,
however, believe her plump, mousy self to be lovely, let alone
beautiful.  Nope, those were words spoken in the heat of passion, and
men were notorious for, well, exaggerating at such times.  And besides,
Arlen was a nice, kind man.  He probably wanted her to feel good about
herself.  She didn't think his complements were calculated or
conniving--he wasn't the type.  No, they were well-intentioned, which
made them equally meaningless.

So here she was, experiencing something she would probably never
experience again, and she couldn't even fully savor it.

"That was a heavy-duty sigh."

Arlen stood at the foot of the stairs.  Clad in a black turtleneck
pullover and snug, well-worn jeans, he looked so good to her that tears
sprang to her eyes, blurring her vision.  She didn't even bother to
blink them back.  And to hell with listeners.

"I missed you," she whispered through a tight, aching throat.

For a moment he didn't move.  He simply stood looking up at her,
studying her almost solemnly.  And then, one riser at a time, he
climbed toward her.

"How's Melanie?"  she asked quietly, hating the way her voice thickened
with her unshed tears~

"Happily married, happily employed and happily pregnant.  If she
weren't my daughter, I could almost resent all that happiness."

He was only a few stairs away now, and she managed a watery, wa very
smile.  "Some people do seem to live charmed lives," she said with
false brightness.  "It's enough to make you believe in fairy
godmothers."

Arlen knelt beside the window seat so that his head was on a level with
hers.  "Everybody has troubles and grief.  Sometimes they're just not
visible from the ou~tside."

"I know."  A shaky sigh escaped her as he covered her clasped hands
with one of his.

"You're all curled up on yourself, Jessie," he said, gently tugging her
hands apart.  "You look like you want to roll up into a tight ball and
hide."

She guessed she did, but she tried to joke about if.  "Like a p'fil
bug?"

He shook his head~ "Like you're hurting.  Am I hurting you, Jessie?" In
his heart he believed he was; and he steeled himself for her answer.

"No," she whispered.  "Oh, no.  Don't even think it.  I'm just' just"

Blindly she rehched for him, and then just as quickly tried to stop
herself.  She felt free to reach for him out of desire, but she did not
feel she had the right to reach out with her emotional needs.  This was
supposed to be a light, uninvolved relationship, after all.  He had
made that clear from the outset.

But as soon as she hesitated, Arlen moved.  He gathered her swiftly to
his chest, and the next thing she knew she was sitting on the edge of
the window seat, tangled all around him.  Her face was buried against
his neck, her arms embraced his shoulders and her thighs cradled his
narrow hips.

She felt his kiss on her temple, felt his big hand stroking her back
with so much gentleness, so much kindness.

"I'm sorry, Jessie"

" he said, as if everything were his fault.

"Don't be.  None of it's your fault.  I guess I'm just tired of feeling
like a bug under a microscope."  Even now she whispered, hoping to
evade the unseen listeners.

"It's a strain, all right."  He thought of taking her to a hotel, but
was afraid any watchers would be unnerved by such an inexplicable move.
"Impatience was eating at him--nothing at all had happened for two
solid weeks--but not for anything would he take the risk of increasing
Jessica's danger.

She was so warm and soft against him, and though he felt like a traitor
for even thinking it, he could not remember ever having found it so
satisfying to hold Lucy.  Jessica seemed to soothe longings he hadn't
even been aware of until she touched him.

But right now he felt her tension and frustration, and knew he had to
do something to help.  Unfortunately, he couldn't think of a damn thing
that would really help matters.  A rainy afternoon drive in the
country, a trip to the movies, anything at all; would only give her
temporary surcoase.

His pager chose that moment to chirp, and the word he muttered under
his breath, right into Jessica's ear, shocked a laugh out of her.

"Sorry," he said, reluctantly releasing her.  "Come on, Jessie, let's
take a little drive."

To a pay phone.  Since he had just driven back from Waco, Jessica
doubted that he wanted to go one step farther than that.  She was
getting used to these interruptions, though.  There was seldom an
evening when Arlen didn't have to call in about something, and she had
gathered from things he had let slip that she was far from being the
only case he and his agents were handling right now.  In fact, from
what she was able to discern, he was making quite an effort to manage
things so that he could spend as much time with her as he did.

The trip to the pay phone, as usual, took longer than the five minutes
the direct route required.  Only when he was certain that they weren't
being followed' by anyone did Ar len at last pull into the parking lot
of a convenience store, nosing the sedan right up to the row of pay
phones.

As far as he knew, no one had attempted to follow either him or Jessica
at any time, and he was beginning to think the cigarette smoker who had
stood across the street that long-ago morning had simply been
innocently walking a dog after all.  It was as if, once the bugs had
been planted, the perpetrators had gone up in smoke.  The notion
frustrated him even further, because unless they got a break of some
kind they were never going to get to the bottom of this case.  The
thought of subjecting Jessica to much more of this made him angry in a
way he had seldom experienced.

Phil Harrigan was the agent on call this weekend, and he answered his
phone on the third ring.  '~

"Phil?  Arlen.  What have you got?"

"You said you wanted to know immediately if there were any developments
in the MTI case."

"So tell me."  He shifted from his right foot to his left and tried to
restrain his impatience.  Turning his back to the phone, he looked at
Jessica.  She sat in the car, watching him through the windshield, and,
damn it, she looked too pale to please him.

Phil spoke.  "Maddy Kazin called to tell me she might have screwed up~
Royally.  You told her to look into Barrows personal acquaintances as.
well as his' financial situation ."  '

"Right."  Arlen nearly sighed.  What had happened to all his
patience?

"Anyhow, she came across a real close buddy of Barron's.  The two
practically lived in each other's pockets, I guess.  If they weren't
fishing together, they were hunting on a deer lease they own together
down south.  Karin says she let it go because it turned out that this
guy, a fellow named Cad Stratton, was Barron's brother-in-law.  Martha
Barron, the widow, is Stratton's sister."

"Okay."  But it was not okay.  After the Walker spy ring, how could any
serious agent or investigator fail to realize that people could make a
family practice out of spying?  Karin was right, she really might have
screwed up.  "What changed her mind?"

"Well, it seems you asked her to investigate the Czech student that
Greg Leorig introduced Jessica Kilmer to at lunch that day."

"Right, I did.  That's what Karin does best, investigate."  The woman
was something to behold with a telephone and a computer terminal.
Nobody's secrets could withstand Maddy Karin's interest.  Hoover would
have loved her.  "So spell out the connection, Phil."  At times Phil
could be unbearably ponderous.  Patience, Coulter.

"So the connection is that Jan Dobrocek, the Czech guy, is also a
fishing buddy of Carl Stratton."

Every hair on Aden's neck stood up.  "How good a fishing buddy?"  "

"Last year the two of them went to Mexico on a deep-sea fishing trip
out of Mazatlan.  Hear they caught some good-sized sailfish."

"Karin's sure about that?"

"As sure as credit card charges and customs records can make her.  It
seems our friends had the sailfish stuffed and mounted and shipped
back.  Dobrocek's credit card was used to pay for Stratton's fish and
for a room registered in Stratton's name."

Arlen muttered an oath and closed his eyes.  "How often does Dobrocek
go to Mexico?"  Mexico was the best place to go if you wanted to pass
information to the Soviets.  The embassy in Mexico City was watched by
U. S. agents, but there was no way it' could be watched as well as the
Soviet embassy in Washington, D. C. More than one~ American had sold
out his country on a little jaunt south of the border.

"Oh, every month or so, according to his credit records.  He flies Aero
Azteea, and he usually goes to one of the resort cities, like Mazatlan,
Cozumel, even Acapulco.  And while he's there he always makes at least
a one-day trip into Mexico City."

"So when the hell does he do his graduate work?"  Ar-len demanded
irritably.  He needed to be angry at some one.

"He's working on his thesis, according to the department.  Independent
research that's being funded by the Czech government.  Or was.  The
funding got a little hazy during all the freedom uprising in Eastern
Europe."

"I imagine."  Arlen's tone grew dry.

"Anyhow, he doesn't have to be on earn pus all the time, so he's free
to come and go as he likes.  He evidently doesn't make any secret about
his traveling.  Karin says he's been known to take a coed with him from
time to time."

"More recruitment."  Arlen sighed.  "I guess he must be good.  How long
has he been operating right under our noses?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"Stupid question, Phil.  The point is, I don't have a choice.  How
long?"

"Five years."

Aden could have groaned.  "Five years," he repeated woodenly.

"Well, that's how long he's been at the university, and that' show long
it's been since he entered the country for the first time.  It's
possible"

Arlen cut him off.  "Spare me.  Start getting together the stuff the
U.S. Attorney is going to need from us to get a' court order for
wiretaps on Dobrocek and Stratton."

"Karin says she's already compiling it.  It'll be on your desk first
thing tomorrow.  In the meantime, do you want me to start
surveillance?"

Arlen thought about it for a moment.  "I don't know that there's any
immediate rush, Phil.  Unless he's scheduled to go to Mexico, that
is."

"Not that Karin knows of at the moment.  I'll have her keep an eye on
the airline bookings, though."

"Okay, let's leave it there until tomorrow, unless something else comes
up.  I want to think about this some more before I make any decisions."
He looked at Jessica again.  "Phil?"

"Yeah?"

aertous ~xtstcs

"Try not to need me in the next four or five hours.  If you really,
really have to, page me, but I'd be grateful"

"Sure," Phil interrupted.  "No problem.  National emergencies only."

Arlen gave a short laugh.  "Yeah.  I'll check in later."  Standing in
the rain, Aden pondered for a couple of 'minutes.  He would have bet
his last dollar just then that Dobrocek and Stratton were mixed up in
Barron's death.  Maybe Barron had been involved in the espionage, or
maybe he'd stumbled onto something.  Either way, he was dead, and
either way his brother-in-law was probably involved Arlen remembered
all too dearly the grief stamped on Martha Barron's face when he had
interviewed her two weeks ago.  Familiar himself with the toll of such
a loss, he would have recognized it instantly if she had been faking
it.  She had not been.  A man who could inflict that kind of suffering.
on his own sister was a man to be wary of.

And Jessica knew Barron.  Jessica had met Dobrocek.  A cold shiver
passed down Arlen's spine, the kind that sup-pose ally meant someone
was walking on your grave.  In that moment he would have given ten
years of his life for a way to pull Jessie from this mess.  The best he
could hope for, however, was to keep her from getting in any deeper.
How the devil was he supposed to accomplish that?

Sliding into the ear beside her, he turned and studied her with that
same solemnity that had made him pause at the foot of the stairs
earlier.  Jessica Kilmer thought herself a knowledgeable, sophisticated
adult.  Arlen Coulter knew differently.  There was an innocence to her
that he felt whenever he was with her, an innocence that came from the
lack of the kind of experience that caused emotional calluses.  She was
incredibly open, incredibly warm, incredibly vulnerable.  Her readiness
to accept him exactly as he was took his breath away.

Lord knew she had more than enough cause to complain.  He'd stolen her
virginity without so much as a promise, and now he was conducting their
relationship under watchful eyes.  Hell, he hadn't even taken her out
on a real date.  Their dinners out together were as much.  business as
anything, arranged to give them time to talk away

from bugs.  Small wonder she was looking frayed and pale.  She
deserved better than this by far, and she certainly deserved to
discover her sensuality in privacy.

He knew she was holding back when they made love simply because she had
not held back the first few times before he had found the bugs.  Even
in her restrained, upright state she was a much more active lover than
his wife had ever been, and far more passionate, but Aden was well
aware Jessie had more than that in her.  And she deserved to enjoy it,
deserved not to have to bottle it up because of unseen listeners.  Damn
it, if nothing else he could at least set her free for a few hours!

So he drove downtown to the Regency Hotel overlooking the lake. Jessica
watched with huge eyes but never questioned him as he took his suitcase
out of the trunk where he'd left it, intending to go for it after dark,
and took her arm to lead her inside.  This was a good hotel, one of the
best, and a person couldn't check in without luggage.

She said nothing as he passed his credit card to the clerk and checked
them in for the night.  She even remained silent throughout the trip in
the glass elevator, though he could tell she felt miserably out of
place in her jeans and faded sweatshirt.  In a couple of minutes,
though, that wasn't going to matter any longer.

Their room overlooked the lake, not that he cared.  He tipped the
bellhop, closed the door and faced Jessica.

"Arlen?"  Her tone was uncertain.  "What happened?"  His grimness was
frightening,: his quiet intensity unnerving.  That phone call must have
been disturbing.

"What happened is that you and I need time away from all of that crap.
We need to be truly alone.  We're alone now, Jessie."  He took a step
toward her.  "Absolutely and utterly alone.  And, by God, I'm going to
make love to you the way I feel it, without worrying about being
overheard."

Pink color blossomed in her cheeks and he heard her breath catch.  "You
felt that way, too?"

He opened his arms to her.  "I felt each and every sigh you swallowed,
and every time you bit back a sound, I hurt."

bertoi~ 1~151(~ IN

Darn it, her eyes were swimming in tears again.  He had noticed, which
was mortifying, and he had cared, which was incredibly touching.

Aden folded her into his arms and pressed a kiss on the top of her
head.  She smelled like spring rain, fresh and sweet, and holding her
made him feel 'warm in places that had been cold for a long, long time.
For a long moment he' simply hugged her, savoring her closeness.  And
for the first time he admitted to himself that he wasn't going to walk
away unscathed from this.  She was bound to tire of him, though, tire
of the multitude of sins that went with his work and the way it made
him live.  She would tire of him just as soon as she didn't need him
around to make her feel safe.  It was as inevitable as the rising of
the sun, but only now' did he realize that it was going to hurt.  Just
a little, he assured himself.  Just a little.

"I'm going to call room service," he said, rocking her gently and
stroking her hair and back.  "I'm starved, and I don't want to bother
with them later."

He caught her chin with a gentle hand and tilted her face up to him.
Her brown eyes were suspiciously bright behind her glasses, and there
was the faintest tremor to her lips.  Bending, he kissed those lips and
felt them quiver and cling to his.  "What you need," he murmured
huskily, "is a long, warm soak in the tub.  I happen to have a pajama
top that'll make a perfect bathrobe for you."

"You?  A pajama top?"  A fugitive smile tugged at the corners of her
mouth.  The Aden she knew slept flagrantly nude; in fact, he hardly
ever stayed under the blankets.

He flashed his crooked smile.  "Yep.  Believe me, I do not sleep in the
raw on my daughter's couch."

She lifted on tiptoes.  "Then," she whispered, "you wore it last
night?"

The heaviness was growing in him, the weight of the need she evoked in
him.  "Yes," he murmured, sliding his hands downward to rub them
against her soft bottom.

"Then it'll smell like you."

Her husky whisper sent a thrill racing from his ear straight to his
groin.  Hig teeth clenched as he rubbed himself against her welcoming
hips.  "Yep," he bit out.

"Good."  She wiggled up closer to him and tugged his head down to her.
"I wish I were taller," she muttered as she tried to find his mouth.

He kissed her.  ~ Her mouth was already open, begging for his
possession, and he accepted the invitation with a sweeping, plunging
stroke of his tongue that spoke of greater intimacies.

"Kiss me back, Jessie," he gasped a little later.  "Come on, baby...
Like that.  Yeah."

Somehow his pullover was riding up under his arms and she was
biting--biting!  --at one of his nipples in a way he never would have
imagined anyone doing, nor would he have dreamed it could feel so good
that his knees were threatening to buckle .  "I'm just the right height
for that," she whispered as she felt a tremor rip through him.  "You
like that, don't you?"

"Yeah .... Damn it, Jessie... Baby, don't..."

But she did, and he went nuts.  For one of the very few times in his
life, Arlen Coulter lost his self-control, every last damn vestige of
it.  Afterward he retained only the vaguest memory of tearing at her
clothes, at his clothes, of tumbling onto the bed with her.  He did
remember putting his mouth on her in places he'd never put his mouth
before, places he'd fantasized about kissing her, but had been afraid
to for fear of shocking her or upsetting her.

He remembered, too, that while she might have been a little bit shocked
at first, she hadn't been at all upset.  No, Jessie had sobbed and
writhed and dug her nails into him and driven him to take even greater
intimacies.

"Harder," she gasped.  "More," she groaned, and her fever fueled his.
And later, "Like this?"  as she took similar liberties with him.  -~

He remembered the hard, driving ache that propelled his hips against
hers, the helpless, wrenching, rocking need that made him plunge over
and over and over.

And he remembered the sheer beauty of her shrill cry as she crested the
pinnacle with him.

He'd never made a woman plead before, or cry out.  He'd never known the
wonder of sharing a moment so intense it oertous r~tsr,.  s was etched
in pure erys.  tal.  Now he knew.  Humbled, he held her tightly to him
and gave silent thanks.

Arlen would have provided candlelight, but that would have meant going
out and finding some place to buy a candle, and Jessie wouldn't hear of
it.  Besides, there was a night-light in the bathroom that served
almost as well.

Sitting in the deep, steaming tub, she sipped champagne and soaked up
the relaxing heat.  Arlen sat on the floor beside the tub, on the
fluffy mat, and watched her with a half-formed smile that seemed to
soften his every edge.  He made her feel beautiful and cherished, and
her throat ached every time she looked at him.

Time was slipping away so fast.  Too fast.  She tried to se'~ze the
moments, but they slipped through her fingers like water.  Much as she
wanted to escape from under the threat that clouded her days, she knew
that the end of the investigation would be the end of this, too.
Because Arlen would move out of her house as soon as he didn't need to
protect her, and t~hen he would move out of her life to avoid the
entanglements he didn't want.  Smothering a sigh, she forcibly turned
her attention away from such thoughts.  There was no sense in wasting
these precious moments worrying about what had happened yet.

"You know everything about me," she remarked lazily.  "And I still
don't know very much about you."

Reaching out, he touched her warm, damp cheek with a gentle forefinger.
"What do you want to know?"

"Have you ever been shot at?"

"As an agent, you mean?  Because I sure as hell got shot at in Nam."

"Well?"

"Just once?"  That surprised her.

"Just once, by some drunken hunters who never would have done it if
they hadn't been full of good old Kentucky bourbon.  They didn't even
come close, but it was a little tense."  '

"Did you shoot back?"

"I wasn't even armed.  We're not like local police.  We don't carry
weapons all the time, and on that case, I wasn't authorized to carry a
gun.  In fact, most of the time this job is about as tame as they
come."

Jessica handed him her glass.  "No more for me, thanks."  Sighing, she
closed her eyes and let her head rest against the pillowing towel.
"Tame.  I find that hard to believe."

"Well, it's usually not dangerous, and a lot of what we do is legwork
and paperwork.  Investigatory stuff.  Sometimes we go undercover, but
that's about the only time things get hairy.  Surveillance is a boring
pastime, and I've done my share of it.  Things usually don't begin to
get exciting until a case starts to break."

The finger that had caressed her cheek now ran along the curve of her
soft, smooth shoulder.

"I enjoy my job," he said after a moment.  "I like solving puzzles, and
I meet a lot of interesting people.  And it's important work."  His
gray eyes lifted to her face, and he smiled his crooked smile.
"Disappointed?"

"Relieved," she said frankly.  "I'm not a good worrier."

"Well, you don't need to worry about me," he said firmly.  Usually that
was true, so he didn't feel as if he were lying.  He didn't tell her
how fast that could change, how fast he had seen it change.  Or that he
was working on a couple of cases that could get nasty if something went
wrong.  She didn't need to know such things.

Opening her eyes just a little, she looked at him from beneath her
lashes, soaking up the way he looked.  Wearing only his jeans, he sat
with one knee raised and an arm resting on it.  Lithe, lean, all male.
She blushed a little when she saw the mark she'd left on his chest,
just above the coppery disk of o~e nipple.  She'd never imagined she
could get so carried away.

To Arlen, it looked as if she were about to fall asleep in the tub.  ~
"Is that all you wanted to know?"  he asked, amusement evident in his
voice.  "Whether I'd ever been shot at?"

3'ertous l~tslcs 203

Jessica opened one eye wider.  "It's an important question.  And I
already know the really essential things about you."

"What kind of essential things?"  The crooked smile was still on his
mouth, his posture was still casual, but she sensed a tension in him.

She answered, her voice soft.  "I know how kind you are, how gentle and
generous, how honest and caring.  I know you're a good man, Arlen
Coulter.  The rest is just frosting to make you even more appealing."

Even more appealing.  Arlen heard the words, but, more importantly, he
felt them in his gut, a sinking sensation that told him he was in
trouble.  Even more appealing.  Well, what did he expect?  She was
hardly older than Melanie.  She could hardly have the first great
affair of her life without getting emotionally involved.

For that matter, the sinking sensation told him that he wasn't as
indifferent as he would have liked to be, either.  It mattered that she
found him appealing.  It mattered that he could make her feel good or
bad.  All of it mattered too damn much, and he didn't know what the
hell to do about it.  Wait for it to wear off?  It had to wear off.  No
woman like Jessica, with so much to give and so much life ahead of her,
could possiblly stay infatuated for long with a man who had so little
to offer in the way of a future.  SoonEr or later she was bound to come
to ~her senses.  In the meantime, he would just have to take care that
he built her some good memories, that he made this a good experience
for her

"Appealing, huh?"  he said gruffly.  "It makes me more appealing to
have been shot at?"

Jessica couldn't hold back her laugh.  "No, it makes you more appealing
that you don't get shot at with alarming regularity.  Actually, Fm
sorry you ever had to be shot at."

Again he was touched.  She touched him easily, frequently.

"Well," she said after a moment, unnerved by the unblinking way he was
looking at her, "I'm glad to know your job is tame.  Not like TV and
the movies."

It could get to be like the movies or TV, and had, but she didn't need
to know that.  "Yeah.  Tame.  Not dull.  It's not a dull job, Jessie.
And I usually feel really good about what I accomplish.  That makes me
a lucky man."

"What made you decide you wanted to be an FBI agent?"

He smiled, that wonderful crooked smile that sent rivers of warmth
rushing to her toes.  "Eliot Ness and the Untouchables," he said.  "I
wanted to be Robert Stack."

She felt her own smile widen, and her heart squeezed with emotion. "You
must have been such a neat little kid.  I can imagine what you must
have been like.  Serious, right?  A sole rim serious little boy."

"Maybe, when I was little.  When I got older I was something of a
hell-raiser."  He stroked her soft cheek with a fingertip.  "I managed
to avoid any real trouble, though.  I always wanted to be one of the
good guys."

When she decided it was time to get out of the tub, he insisted on
toweling her dry himself, and he took unabashed pleasure in the task,
lingering in ways that made her feel desirable and prized.  The pajama
top he gave her to wear was simple blue cotton, but it was soft with
many washings, and it smelled like him.  By the time he settled her on
the bed and tucked the covers around her legs, she was feeling totally
pampered.

Propped against pillows, she smiled up at him.  "You sure know how to
take care of a lady."

He perched on the bed beside her and leaned toward her to give her a
warm, caressing kiss on the lips.  "I'm glad you think so."

She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, reveling in the
scratchy sensation of his beard.  "What brought all this on, Arlen? Did
something happen?"

The habit of secrecy was deeply ingrained in him from his better than
sixteen years with the Bureau.  The FBI released information from
current investigations only when there was some advantage in doing so.
As Special Agent in Charge, he had for years been making the decision
about what could be usefully revealed, and he was usually inclined to
reveal nothing.  Even now, looking into Jessie's worried brown eyes, he
leaned toward silence.  He didn't see how it could possibly help the
Bureau or her for her to

5ertous tOstcs 205

know about Carl Stratton, or the connection between Dohrocek and
Barron.  Or that Barron had been murdered.  Not even when he needed to
persuade her to be careful of her safety had he told her that a murder
had been' committed.

Jessica's gaze skipped over his features, taking in every nuance of his
expression.  "You don't have to tell me anything," she said quietly. "I
realize you can't talk about your cases.  I shouldn't have asked."

But the questions were there in her eyes, and he could read them
clearly.  He sighed when she leaned forward and touched a light kiss to
his rough chin.

"I need a shave," he said.  He could see the redness his beard had left
on her cheeks and neck.  "I need a shower."

She smiled.  "Go ahead.  I'll bet there's plenty of hot water."

He started to smile as she settled back against the pillow.  She's a
treasure, he thought.  An honest-to-God treasure.  And then his smile
faded completely.

"Jessie," he said.  "Jessie, I know it's hard to sustain a high level
of caution for a long period.  I know that it's been wearing you to a
hub and that you're getting past the point of fear.  I can see it."

Her bright brown eyes regarded him steadily, but he saw the leap of the
pulse in her throat, a sign he was scaring her.  Damn it, he had to
keep her scared to keep her safe.  "Jessie, don't trust anyone. Please.
This case has gone beyond the usual limits.  There's a very real
danger."

Her own expression grew serious as she waited for him to explain.  When
he didn't speak, she felt a certainty settle like lead in her stomach.
It was something she had suspected all along.

"Dave Barron didn't kill himself, did he?"

His silence would have been answer enough, but he was never one to take
the easy way.  Nor would he lie.  "No, he didn't kill himself."

Jessica drew a sharp, shaky breath.  "I wondered.  I couldn't really
believe that he had."

He took her hand and held it between both of his own.  Rubbing it
gently while his mind raced, he tried yet again

to find a way to remove her from all of this.  He kept expecting her
to turn from him--he'd gotten her deeper into this, after all--but she
never took her somber gaze from his face.

"That's why you asked me to be careful," she said presently, her voice
little more than a murmur.  "You found out he'd been murdered."

He didn't bother to answer that one.  It was self-evident.  Instead, he
did the only thing he could think of.  He leaned forward until he lay
against her, his face in the curve between her neck and shoulder.  Her
arms closed around his shoulders immediately, and in their strength he
felt her tension and fear.  Damn, he thought, at some point she was
bound to conclude that he had wanted only to use her as bait.  It
wasn't true, but there was no way he could prove that.  And when she
reached that conclusion, she would never, ever forgive him.

"I'm not going to leave you alone for a minute, Jessie," he told her,
pressing a kiss on the warm, soft skin of her neck.  "Not a minute.  I
won't let anything happen to you."

She made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle.  "And here I
was hoping you were spending all this time with me because you like
being with me."  As soon as the words were out, she wanted to snatch
them back.  She couldn't believe she had revealed so much of her hopes,
so much of her fears.  He didn't want her to care for him.  He didn't
want to be responsible for her caring or hurting.  Funny, he could be
so quick to protect her, to take responsibility for her physical
safety, but he didn't want any responsibility for her emotional safety.
Of course, he didn't want to feel anything himself.  No involvement. No
emotional risk.

It occurred to him that he had been a fool in more ways than one.  If
he had any excuse, it was that this was his first affair, too.  After
all, Lucy had been the only woman he'd dated, and that had been a
chaste relationship until their wedding night.  Still, he wondered now
how he had ever thQught that Jessica wouldn't demand a declaration of
some feeling other than lust from him.  Of course she wanted to know
that she meant something to him.  Hell, he

Serious R~sgs 207

wanted to know the same from her.  He just didn't want to mean too
much.

"Of course I like being with you," he said gruffly.  He could say that
with perfect truth.

Her arms tightened on him, and her hands began to caress his upper
back.  She asked nothing more.  Instead, with her touches, she let him
know she felt the same way.

At length she sighed.  "I suppose we have to get back."

"Not until morning."  He was taking a risk, but he felt it was a
necessary one.  Let the watchers wonder where they'd gone, but Jessica
would have this time to escape and re-group.  "I figure we can get up a
little early and go home to dress for work."

"Sounds good to me."  Did he, she wondered, realize he had referred to
her house as home, as if it were his?  Her heart accelerated a little
with hope, and Arlen suddenly raised his head to smile into her eyes.

"What did you just think about?"  he asked huskily.  "Your heart went
into overdrive."

Her cheeks heated and she shook her head, too embarrassed to answer. He
must never know how much she wanted from him.  If he ever guessed how
much she cared for him, he would retreat in short order.

"My heart speeds up any time I think about you," she answered finally,
feeling terribly, painfully shy.  "All I have to do is think about you
kissing me or touching me..."

Now that was something he felt he could handle, so he did.  Willingly,
readily, tenderly.  Damn, but she made him feel tender.

In fact, she just plain made him feel.

Chapter 11

Jessica arrived more than a half hour early for work in the morning,
but when she stepped into the section and closed the door behind her,
she saw Frank Winkowski coming down the hall with a sheaf of papers in
his hands.

"Morning, Frank.  Getting a head start on the week?"  Frank was usually
a cheerful, pleasant man, but this morning he looked disgruntled.
"Well, I'd like to," he said almost peevishly.

"What's wrong?"  -"The damn cleaning crew," he said irritably.  "I've
left notes for them before, and they usually listen for a while,

but this time it's worse than I've ever seen it.  "

"Notes about what?  What do they do?"

"They rearranged things on my desk!  But this time... !  I tell you,
Jessica, I won't stand for it any longer.  This time they were in my
desk.  And I can't imagine what they must have been doing in here over
the weekend, but one of Bob's reports was in my desk drawer" -he waved
the offending papers beneath her nose"--and one of my folders is
missing.  I hope it's in Bob's desk!  All I know is, I'm going down to
maintenance right now to complain about this!"

"Wait a minute, Frank."  Jessica's heart skipped abe at and then
slipped into high gear.  "Let's go to my office and talk about this
first."

Frank, his face flushed with annoyance, paused in the process of
opening his mouth to continue his tirade.  "Why?"  he asked instead.

"Just come with me and I'll explain."  Buttedlies fluttered wildly in
her stomach as she led the way to her office.  How much should she tell
him, if anything?  And what would Arlen think if she betrayed to the
wrong person the fact that.  the FBI was involved?

She closed her door behind them.  Frank took the one extra chair and
sat back, papers on his lap.

"What gives?"  he demanded.  "You can't do anything about the janitors,
so why do you want to discuss this?"

"What if it wasn't the janitors, Frank?"  she asked baldly.  She didn't
have any other idea about how to begin this discussion, so she jumped
right in.

"Not the janitors?"  He repeated the words almost blankly, then
abruptly leaned forward as they penetrated.  "What are you suggesting?
That somebody was looking for something in my office?"

Jessica was thinking as rapidly as she ever had in her life.  Arlen,
she reminded herself, didn't want anybody to know their relationship
was anything but personal.  He also didn't want anybody to kmow that
the FBI was investigating her missing document.

And, she recalled with a sudden thud of her heart, Dave Barron had been
murdered, possibly because he had found out something.  She was being a
complete and utter fool if she allowed anyone to guess that she had
more than a passing interest in odd happenings around MTI.

Taking a breath to steady herself, she decided she had better be
careful.  Trouble was, she hadn't gotten much sleep last night, and her
mind was a little fuzzy.  Frank, however, was still leaning forward,
looking at her with a strange intensity.  She had said enough to either
make him think she was losing her marbles or make him suspicious that
something was going on.  Stupid, Jess, she told herself.  Stupid,
s~tupid.  Let the pros handle this stuff.

"Uh, no," she said.  "I'm not really suggesting anything, Frank.  I
guess I'm still nervous about that document I mislaid.  Maybe a little
paranoid."

Frank's lips thinned.  "I can understand that.  I'm getting a little
paranoid about my desk.  Damn it, Jessica, you'd think these cleaning
people would understand that you don't fiddle around with somebody's
desk.  Considering the kind of work we do here, I don't think nosy
janitors ought to be tolerated."

She nodded agreement.  "But we don't keep anything classified on our
desks."

"No, of course not, but you know as well as I do that there's plenty of
important stuff that isn't classified.  Things that would be useful to
our competitors as well as to other nations.  I'm going downstairs, and
I'm going to lodge a written complaint."

"What folder of yours is missing?"  she thought to ask as he stood up
to leave.

"The design you wrote for the Sure Eye project."  Jessica's heart
slammed.  She had thought from the outset that the design ought to be
classified.  The classification guidance provided by the Department of
Defense, however, had not permitted' it so she and Bob Harrow had
decided to mark it Company Confidential.  Theoretically, that
designation meant it wouldn't be shown to anyone outside the company
and would be treated as a trade secret.

It remained true that, regardless of classification, it delineated the
software for the project in a way that w~ould make it possible for
someone else to duplicate the project' if they had access to the
necessary data base of technical information about
countermeasures--some of which information was contained in the
document that had been taken from her safe.

Troubled, she watched Frank leave, evidently fixed in his determination
to complain to maintenance, her own mind still worrying at the
problems.  A Company Confidential document was relatively easy to
steal.  People could, and did, carry them off the premises in the
course of business.  A kind of accountability was kept, a record of
everyone who had a copy, but it wasn't difficult for someone else to
obtain one or gain access to the information.

The person who was stealing and copying documents could well be someone
who didn't recognize the difference between a classified document and a
Company Confidential document.  Or it could be someone with the
technical know-how to realize how the project design fitted into the
whole.  Well, it had to be the cleaning crew, because everyone in the
section already had a copy of her design report.  The cleaning crew or
security--either one had access over the weekends.  And that was
something Arlen needed to know.

Picking up her phone, she hesitated.  She really should go off-site to
call.  But then, Frank had left the section, and there wasn't a soul
here to overhear her.  She dialed.

"This is Jessica Kilmer.  May I speak to Special Agent Coulter?"

"Ma'am, I'm sorry, but Agent Coulter is in court this morning.  Can
someone else help you?"

Jessica glanced at her watch and saw that it wasn't yet eight.  Wasn't
that too early for court?  Something else must be going on.  "Will he
be back before noon?"

"Yes, ma'am, he's expected around eleven."

Aden didn't want her to discuss anything to do with the spying on the
telephone, so she was left with no alternative.  "Please tell him that
it's important he meet me for lunch today.  I'll be at the Corner Pub a
little after twelve.  If there's a problem with that, he can call meat
work."

The woman who answered the phone repeated the message, and Jessica hung
up

Nearly four more hours.  She had the feeling that time was going to
crawl.

A movement in the corner of her eye startled her and she spun around,
but no one was there.  Of course no one was there, she reassured
herself, willing her hammering heart to slow down.  Frank was the only
person in the section who was already at work, and he had gone
downstairs to castigate the maintenance people~

"Paranoid, Jess," she told herself aloud, needing the sound in the
suddenly uncomfortable silence of the empty office.  "Your imagination
is running away with you again."

The morning crawled even more slowly for Arlen than it did for Jessica.
He was used to the time involved in any kind of legal action, but even
ingrained patience couldn't make the waiting go any faster.

Maddy Karin had dumped the required information for the wiretaps on his
desk-sometime last evening, and it had been the first thing he looked
at this morning.  A quick reading told him that Karin had done her job;
this should be enough to get the court order.  He had learned a long
time ago, however, that attorneys often had a different perspective on
such things, particularly U. S. Attorneys.  Scooping up the file, he
headed upstairs to Carolyn Granger's office, knowing he would probably
have to defend his request before she would take it to the judge.

"Intuitively," Carolyn Granger said a half hour later, "I see-why you
think the tap is necessary.  The evidence is slim, though, and mostly
circumstantial.  As far as I know, it's still not a crime for a U.S.
citizen to be acquainted with a Czech, or even with a KGB agent, for
that matter.  You're acquainted with more than a few yourself."

"Yep," he agreed calmly, maintaining the control that had gotten him
through plenty of tense situations in his Career, No one would ever
have guessed how tired he was of all this legal maneuvering.  Of
course, a long time ago he had accepted the difference between an FBI
agent and a lawyer.  He was an agent because he was a man of action.  A
man of action was bound to get impatient with' all the dotting of i's
and crossing of t's.

She smiled faintly at him.  "No argument?  "

"What's the point?"  He flashed a quick smile in return.  "lf there's
any way' possible you'll get me what I want, Caro.  You usually do."

She shook her head, her smile growing broader.  "You take all the fun
out of it.  I'm supposed to drive you crazy with my nit-picking. You're
supposed to do anything short of going down on your knees to get what
you want."

"I'll kneel right now if it'll speed things up."

Carolyn shook her head once again.  "It would be a mistake to rush, and
you know it.  It could blow our case out of the water if a defense
attorney can argue that the tap was illegal and therefore
inadmissible."

"You're talking like a lawyer again," Arian remarked wryly.

Which was how he came to be standing at the window at the' end of the
hall outside Carolyn Granger's office while she wove together the
necessary threads.

He rocked back onto his heels and shoved his hands into his trouser
pockets.  Looking up at the blue, blue sky of a sunny Texas morning, he
found himself thinking of the velvet darkness of the night just past.
The satisfaction he felt this morning went far beyond anything as
simple as satisfied passion, though.  Yesterday he had been useful to
another person on a purely emotional level that had fulfilled a
startling need of his own.

It was a need he hadn't really been aware of until now.  He had
thought--foolishly, it now appeared--that he'd closed a chapter in his
life and hereafter would be content with his work, his grandchildren
and his other interests.  A man who had been the hub of the family for
half his life, a man who was accustomed to taking care of others,"
should have known better.  Last night had reminded him that he needed
to be needed.

For better than three years now he had closed up on himself and
convinced himself that he no longer needed what he no longer had.  The
folly of that delusion had become eminently obvious to him last night
and this morning.  And damned if he wanted to sacrifice this too ming
utter contentment for some stupid notion that he was too old to be
entitled to it.  But Jessica was too young for him, too biologically
young.  That youth was going to take her away from him, because she
would want children and.  Children.  Another problem.  He had missed
out on Melanie's early infancy, but he had been around for Andrew's
birth and first few months.  He could still remember the warm wonder
and awe he had felt when he held his son.  The small, soft head in the
crook of his arm, the fingers and toes so tiny it was impossible to
believe they were so perfectly formed.  Yeah, he remembered it all
vividly.  He re-memhered feeling vaguely embarrassed by the rush of
tenderness he had felt for those' tiny little children, embarrassed by
the soft, warm, utterly un macho feelings they'd evoked in him.  He'd
never mentioned those feelings to anyone, but they had tempered his
every action ever since.

Jessica shouldn't miss that, wouldn't want to miss it.  And he
couldn't.  Could he?

"Arlen?"  Caro Granger's voice floated down the hall.  "/~et's go.  The
judge will see us in chambers in twenty minutes."

He started down the hall to her.  "All I want to know is, are you
confident?"

Cato smiled.  "You bet.  It's in the bag."

An hour later, stepping off the elevator near his office, Arlen found
himself thinking that perhaps the strangest thing about this homing was
that he was already looking forward to telling Jessica about it.
Another one of those things he'd missed without realizing it.  He
wouldn't be able to share any official information, of course, but he
could tell Jessie about Judge Harris, a surprisingly funny little man
with an unabashed interest in war stories.

Did he really want to resume his old life, coming home e~eh evening to
an empty, silent apartment?

As soon 'as he stepped in the Bureau offices, he was swamped by demands
and plans.  A number of cases appeared ready to come to a head, and in
order to set up the kind of constant surveillance he wanted on Stratton
and Dobrocek, he needed to request some additional agents.  By the time
he was finished with all of that it was noon, and he reached for the
stack of phone messag?  Donna had handed him.

By the time he reached Jessica's message it was ten after twelve, and
he swore under his breath.  He might, if he was lucky, make it to the
Corner Pub in twenty minutes.  By then she might have given up and
left.  Nor was the Pub the kind of place you could call and get a
message to a guest.

He swore again and grabbed his suit jacket from the coat tree in the
corner.  "I'm heading out on business," he told Donna as he passed her
desk.  "I should be back in an hour."  '

The Pub parking lot was crowded, and he had to park at some distance
from the door.  He spied Lisa Gonzales parked not too far from a Toyota
that looked like Jessie's.  Was Jessie's, he realized as he scanned the
license plate.  Good, she was here, and Lisa was on her tail.
Everything was all right.

There was a line at the door as people waited to be seated, but he
passed it up and went to look for Jessie.  The Pub had four different
guest rooms, and not until he had walked through them all was he
convinced that she wasn't there.  Had there been even one empty table,
he might have thought she was in the ladies' room, but every table was
full.

She wasn't there.  The certainty crept into his bones like a winter
chill, and the back of his neck prickled.  Measuring each step so he
wouldn't run, he walked out of the restaurant and headed for Lisa
Gonzales.  She saw him coming and leaned over to unlock the passenger
door for him.

"Have you seen her come out?"  was Arlen's abrupt first question.

"Come out?  No, her car's still here."  Instantly concerned Lisa
frowned at him.  "What's wrong, Arlen?"

"She's not in there.  Did she come alone?"

"No.  She came with a man.  Brought him, actually.  They looked like
they were friends."

The prickling of his neck had become a squeezing of his stomach as
tension gripped him.  "What did he look like?"

"Thirty-five, I guess, slightly balding, dark hair with thin fuzz on
top.  Average tleight, beer bellied.  Wearing brown slacks, a yellow
short-sleeved sport shirt and a brownish tie.  Ordinal, Aden.  You'd
never give him a second look."

Leaving Lisa to wait for Jessie if I case he missed her, Ar-ten
recrossed the parking lot, faster this time, no longer caring if he was
conspicuous.  An objective part of his mind--the portion that.  had
kept him sane throughout Vietnam and the interminable months of Lucy's
illness--warned him that he was in danger of letting emotion override
control.

Arlen hated to lose control.  There were a few a Oery few times in the
past when he had lost his iron control, and the results hadn't been
something he was proud of.  Warning himself, however, didn't much help.
Fear for Jessica rode him like fi whiplash.

Once again he checked all the rooms, this time looking for the balding
man in the yellow shirt as well as Jessica.  Ten minutes later he was
convinced.  She wasn't here.  One last time he scanned the final room,
hoping against hope.  The last time he'd felt like this was when his
daughter hadn't come home from a school football game at the appointed
time.  Then it had been a simple misunderstanding.  This time he knew
he wasn't going to be so lucky.

None of the waiters he collared could remember having seen Jessica or
her companion come or go.  There were so many customers that after an
hour people faded into the mists of memory.

By one-thirty it was absolutely certain that Jessica hadn't returned to
work or gone home, nor had she called in with an excuse.  She had
vanished without a trace.

By two o'clock it was certain that one of her co-workers had vanished
with her.  Frank Winkowski was the man in the yellow shirt and he, too,
had failed to return to work or call in.

"By seven that evening the Bureau offices looked like the command post
of a small army.  Extra communications stations had been set up to deal
with the growing number of agents who were arriving to assist.  Men and
women milled around, awaiting their assignments.  Operators manned the
phones and radios.  Several coffee urns had been set up in one corner,
and somebody had thought to order a tray of ctou ghnuts from a local
bakery.

All the necessities, Arlen thought with a bitterness that shocked him
even in his nearly numb state.  Excitement.  He'd been an agent long
enough to know what a welcome event a case like this was.  The big ones
came so rarely.  A double abduction and espionage.  All the ingredients
for a headline-making case.  A chance for young agents to step out of
mediocrity.

Taking a slug from his own mug, he turned his back on the confusion and
stepped into the relative silence of his own office.

Jessica.

Without evidence to the contrary, he feared she was dead, and each
passing hour made it more likely.  He really, honestly, didn't think he
could survive it.  The thought came to him calmly, shrouded in the
muffling numbness that had taken over that afternoon, and-he pondered
it while sipping his coffee and staring uptown toward the lighted
beauty of the state capitol.

Well, of course he cared~ about her.  He cared about her as he would
care for any close friend, but no more.  He couldn't allow himself to
care any more than that.  Because he couldn't risk the pain again.  He
couldn't risk this.  God, wasn't once enough for any lifetime?

He found himself hoping terrible things, hoping that death had come
swiftly, painlessly.  That she hadn't been raped .  God, not that!  She
was so young, so innocent, so.  Dear God!

He found himself praying for things he wouldn't be able to bear because
there were things he would be able to bear even less.  Because mercy at
this point was a dark and ugly thing, a matter of speed and precision,
not a matter of kindness.  He'd seen enough death to know the darkest,
the worst, the ugliest, that man could do.  Imagination didn't even
enter into it.  He had Dantean memories from hell to paint pictures
that shredded his soul.

"She must have discovered something."

Phil's voice drew Arlen out of his morbid thoughts.  "Looks that way."
Arlen turned from the window, from the night back to artificial day.
Why did they have to put these awful fluorescent lights everywhere?
"Somebody must have heard her call me, because she told me she'd be at
the restaurant shortly after twelve, but Lisa says she got there with
this guy ~t a quarter to."

"Maybe somebody asked her for a favor, so she went early.  Most of us
can't refuse a favor.

"I guess."

"Anyway, I wanted to tell you, they're ready to trace any calls to us
here, any calls to Winkowski's house, and any calls to Kilmer's house.
You said you were going to be 'there?  With Mahaffey at Kilmer's
place?"

Arlen nodded slowly.  "Year.  I can always hope this is an
old-fashioned kidnapping.  That somebody thinks they can bargain with
us for something."

Phil's expression was concerned.  "That's not likely, Ar-len."  .

"I know that."  Arlen rubbed the heel of his palm against his temple.
"I've got one hell of headache, and I don't think it's going to get any
better.  Nothing from her co-workers?"

Phil shook his head.  "They've been questioned and re-questioned.  All
they know is that Kilmer and Winkowski were the first two in this
morning, and both were hard at work when the others arrived.  Security
says Winkowski arrived exactly six minutes before Kilmer."

Phil pulled out a pocket pad and checked it.  "According to the log
entry the security system keeps, Winkowski punched in his door code six
minutes before Kilmer punched hers in.  She logged onto the central
computer at precisely 7:43, eight minutes after she called here.  And
She logged off the system at 11:30.  Winkowski logged off at 11:27.
Between those times, everyone claims they noticed nothing unusual at
all.

"Front desk security noted the two of them leaving through the main
entrance at approximately 11:35.  Nobody paid real close attention,
though, because they're both readily recognized by the day shift.
Jordan, one of the guards, says he noticed only because Kilnyer was
laughing at something, and he says he's never seen her laugh before."

But I have~ Arlen thought.  I've seen her laugh, and it's a beautiful
sight.  A beautiful sound.

"Anyhow," Phil continued, "Lisa saw her come out with Winkowski,
looking like two good friends, and they got into Kilmer's car.  Lisa
tailed them to the Pub and watched them both enter the restaurant by
the front door at exactly 11:45.  And that's it.  "

Just like that, two people had disappeared as if they had never been.

Arlen shook his head grimly.  "I told Jessica Kilmer to trust me, Phil.
I was wrong."

"Maybe not," Phil said.  "Maybe not."

Arlen simply looked at him from hollow eyes.

Ed Marcel poked his head around the corner.  "Arlen?  The phone at
Kilmer's place has rung three times in the last hour.  Mahaffey says
they've hung up every time she's answered it."

Arlen grabbed his suit jacket and tugged it on.  "I'm going.  Give me a
radio, Ed?"

The numbness was settling over him again, this time more deeply.
Coldly.  He could almost hear the click as his feelings turned off, one
by one.  He couldn't afford to care.  He couldn't afford the risk.  It
was as s'nnple as that.

Aden had spent a lot of time in Jessica's house during the past two
weeks, but beyond his first impression of her bedroom, he hadn't really
looked at it.  Wandering through it now, he ignored Colleen Mahaffey~s
attempts at small talk and looked, really looked.

What he saw was an emptiness that seemed to carve a gaping hole in his
own heart.  Once, when he'd remarked that somebody must have left' her
a whole houseful of furniture she had said casually that she'd bought
everything in the house, that none of it was inherited.  He'd heard it
then as a kind of pride.  Now he saw it entirely differently.

Oh, God, he thought, and tried to pull another layer of numbness around
himself.  He'd thought of her house as a nesting thing that women do.
Lord knew he'd seen enough of it with Lucy--sudden bursts of frenetic
energy during which furniture would be rearranged dramatically, or old
curtains would vanish to be replaced by new, or she would do whatever
else occurred to her to pretty up their home.  Sometimes it would be
something as small as a single new acquisition to bring a spot of
brightness to a corner.  Such

Serious Ri~ks storms had barely rippled his existence.  It was
something Lucy did, just as he drank his beer from a bottle and his
coffee from a mug.

And until this moment that was how he'd viewed Jessica's house.  Now,
each old photo, each doily and antimacassar, every lovingly polished
piece of scarred furniture held a different message.  Jessica had made.
her home, and it was empty.  She had built her nest, and there was no
one in it.

Arlen drew a deep breath, trying to loosen the sudden tightness in his
chest.  These thoughts were getting him nowhere, accomplishing nothing
at all.  With an almost conscious inward tightening, he clamped down on
the volcanic feelings he couldn't afford.

Colleen Mahaffey's voice intruded.  "I made coffee, Ar-len.  Want
some?"

"Yeah."  Turning, he tried to give her a businesslike smile.  "Just as
long as it's not in those flowered china teacups of hers."

"I found some mugs."

~The set of heavy brown mugs Jessie had bought when he'd confessed he
hated to drink coffee from a teacup.  Memory caught him on the cusp
between one breath and the next as he recalled the delighted sparkle in
her eyes when she'd presented him with those mugs.  A coffee mug was a
very personal item, to Arlen's way of thinking.  It took time to find
one with exactly the right feel in the hand and at the lip, and when a
mug person found one, he clung to it for dear life.  Jessie hadn't
understood that, but when he saw the pleasure in her bright brown eyes,
that hadn't mattered.  He had started drinking out of those damn brown
mugs.

"Arlen?"

Again Mahaffey had caught him locked in the grip of a-flood tide of
memories and feelings he didn't want.  Damn it, he'd known Jessica for
less than two weeks.  She couldn't possibly mean so much .  "Thanks,"
he said, taking the mug.

"You know Jessica Kilmer pretty well, huh?"  Mahaffey asked, retreating
to the counter behind her.  She lifted her own mug, watching him over
the rim.

"Yeah."  Damn it all, he thought.  Mahaffey had probably picked up on
things he didn't want to know himself.  "Since she called to report the
theft of a classified document a couple of weeks ago."

He turned away and went to look out the window beside the kitchen door.
His car was there, parked behind his Harley.  Jessica had offered to
let him keep the bike here so he wouldn't have to get it out of storage
whenever he wanted to ride.  It would be safer here than in an
apartment-house parking lot, she felt.  It was here, saying a lot of
things he hadn't--couldn't--say himself.  Maybe he ought to hang a sign
in the Bureau offices, and silence all the speculation.  ~lgent Coulter
has very stupidly gotten involved with someone who came to him for
help, and now she's in trouble, and maybe.  An oath escaped him under
his breath, but Mahaffey heard it.  Suddenly her hand was on his arm,
and it didn't matter that he was in charge of this operation and she
was a relatively young agent from another field office who hadn't even
met him until forty minutes ago.

"I'm sorry," she said.  "It has to be hell."

Without looking at her he nodded, grim lipped.  He was glad she didn't
try to offer any false reassurances.  They were both professional
enough to know that with each passing minute Jessie's chances
diminished.

The phone rang shrilly, as piercing as a gunshot.  Arlen's gray eyes
briefly met Colleen Mahaffey's blue ones' Just a glance of' recognition
Without a word, he went to answer it.  If the kidnapper wouldn't speak
to a woman, then Ar-len knew who he wanted to speak with.

"Coulter," he said steadily into the receiver.  Everything inside of
him solidified into ice.

"I have her," said a muffled voice.  "She's okay."

"Let me talk to her."  Calmly.  Coolly.  Not a tremor.

"No.  Start figuring out how to get me out of the country in one piece.
And don't make me nervous."

With a click, the kidnapper disconnected, leaving Arlen listening to a
hum that suddenly sounded like a death knell.  Turning, he looked at
Mahaffey.  She was on another phone, the one the FBI had had installed,
a separate line.  She lifted a finger.  "The trace got it," she said.
"I'm waiting for the address."

Aden's heart slammed once, hard, and he drew a shaky breath as he hung
up the phone.  The same technology that made 911 so effective might now
save Jessie's life, but he didn't allow himself to hope.  Hope was a
risky thing.

"It's a phone booth at the corner of Alma and Winter," Mahaffey said.
"There's a police cruiser in the vicinity right now.  They're going to
check it out."

"He'll be gone."  Aden was certain of it with a conviction that sat in
his gut like lead.

"Maybe someone noticed him," Mahaffey suggested hopefully.  "Maybe
someone saw which way he headed, or what he was driving.  Maybe we'll
find out who he is."

"I know who he is."  Arlen spread his city map on the kitchen table so
he could look for the intersection of Alma and Winter.  "It's Frank
Winkowski."

Mahaffey raised both eyebrows.  "Winkowski might be a victim, too."

"The more I think about it, the more I doubt it.  Win-kowski could
~tick a gun in Jessica's ribs in that crowded restaurant and get her to
walk out an emergency exit with him without making a scene.  The
chances that a man could do that with two unwilling victims in a
crowded place are so slender that I doubt any sane person would try it.
He'd wait for a more auspicious time to abduct them.  No, I really
think Winkowski did it.  The question is why."

Arrangements to get him out of the country.  Well, that was about as
clear as you could get, Arlen thought as he bent over the map.
Winkowski evidently thought he had been exposed, or was about to be.
But how the hell had he gotten that idea?

In the middle of the Corner Pub, Frank Winkowski had suddenly slipped
his arm around Jessica's waist and hauled her up tight against him.
Startled, she had looked up at him, and then she'd felt the hard poke
in her side.

"I've got a gun on you," Frank had said.  "Walk toward that exit."

It never occurred to her to doubt him.  His hand was tucked against her
side in such a way that she easily believed he held a small pistol.  He
had taken her out to the back parking lot, led her to a car and put her
in behind the wheel.  Then he'd climbed into the passenger side and
pulled a bigger~ uglier, meaner-looking gun out of the glove
compartment.  Pointing it at her, he had told her' to drive.

Outside town, on a deserted back road, he'd ordered her out and had
made her climb into the trunk.  There, the gun pointinl~ right at her
head, he had made her put ankle chains on.  Then he had locked her in
the trunk.  Hours later, in the dark, having driven to some other
place, he took her from the trunk and shoved her into.  a dark
structure, locking her alone in a barren room.

To be truthful, Frank had terrified her even more than the gun had.
There had been something wild in his normally mild eyes, some kind of
desperate tension in his words and posture.  From being a familiar,
friendly coworker, he had become a dangerous unknown.

Being held hostage--at least, Jessica figured that was her role--was
not only terrifying,.  it was unnerving.  Refusing to give in to the
terror, she had concentrated on cataloging things, and in the process
of cataloging impressions, she had learned some surprising things about
herself.

For example, she discovered that it drove her absolutely crazy not to
know where she was.  In the dark she couldn't read the dial of her
watch, and that drove her crazy, too, not knowing how quickly or slowly
time was passing.  Port-dating those two surprises occupied her for a
while.  Why did she have such a need to know exactly where she was? Was
it some kind of human instinct not to get lost?  And as far as not
being able to-read her watch went, she felt there was something
distinctly neurotic about being that dependent on knowing the time.

But such cogitations absorbed her only briefly in the yawning space of
hours she could not count.  She tried to focus on her discomforts--the
cold cement floor on which she had to sit and lie, because there was no
furniture, the airlessness of the blacked-out, boarded-up room, the
lack of sanitary facilities.  Oh, there was a bucket, but how barbaric!
She wouldn't have thought Frank capable of such things.

But evidently he was capable, and she tried not to wonder what else he
was capable of.  In barren moments, when her mind wandered a little,
she would suddenly fear that he couldn't possibly let her live.  No
way.  Because she knew who he was.  Just as soon as he got whatever it
was he wanted, he would have to kill her so she couldn't identify'
him.

And that was the possibility she ran from by trying to think about
stupid, inane things, like the chains on her feet that let her hobble
only a few inches at a time.  So she couldn't attack Frank if he ever
came back, or run, or really defend herself.  Such thoughts were
stupid, because she was sure he would never give her the chance to do
any of those things even if she wasn't chained.  Frank was not dumb.
Crazy, maybe, but not stupid.

But finally, fatigued and cold and hungry, she who had never been brave
lost the last of her courage.  Shivering, with s'fient tears running
down her face, she thought of Ar-len and ached, with a longing so deep
it seemed to be part of her soul, to be held by him just one more
time.

Poor Arlen, she thought as she lay curled up on the cold concrete.  He
was going to hold himself responsible for this.  He was that kind of
man.  And she wished now that she had told him she loved him, even if
it had scared him away.  It seemed somehow unutterably sad that she
would never tell him something he so clearly needed to know.

Several times sleep tried to claim her, but each time she woke from the
nightmare of being stuffed into a car trunk at gunpoint to the living
nightmare of her present cap fly-it)'.  A chill.  crept into her very
bones, and she shivered continually, wasting whatever was left of her
meager reserves.  Frank Winkowski.  Who would ever have thought it?

Shortly after the kidnapper's first call to Arlen, the phone company
finally arranged for Jessica's calls to ring on the phone on Aden's
desk at the Bureau.  While he waited for the next call, he and a number
of other agents, with assistance from the local police, began to plan.
If th~ could persuade Winkowski they meant to let him leave the
country, they might have to let him go as far as the airport before
they could move against him.  What if he refused~ to reveal where
Jessica was until after he was airborne?  Was there anything they could
do to increase her chances while preventing Winkowski's escape?  All
eventualities had to be considered, and most of the night passed in
exhaustive discussion.

And with each passing minute~ something in Arlen hardened even more. He
could not afford to permit emotion or worry to cloud his judgment, or
so he told himself, but in reality the' hardening was not a deadening,
it was a growing, deadly anger.  Each minute that passed was another
minute of terror for Jessica, and he was by God going to take each and
every one of those minutes out of someone's hide.

Near dawn he catnapped in his chair, waiting for the phone to ring.
What the devil was Winkowski up to, anyhow?  Why was he taking~ so
long?  Unanswered, unanswerable questions roiled around in his head,
following him even into sleep.  One thing stood clear in his mind, like
a beacon.  Until yesterday at 11:45 a. m" Frank W'mkowski could have
boarded any plane at the airport and left the country as a free man.
What the hell had panicked him into taking a hostage?

The room was not quite dark as Jessica had thought.  When she awoke, a
small, pale stream of sunlight was pouring through some tiny crack in
the heavy window coverings.  It was a slender pencil of light, but it
caught dust motes in its beam and shed just enough illumination to
bring reality to her prison.  She could even read her watch and see
that it was just before seven in the morning.

That little bit of knowledge was somehow comforting, giving her a sense
of connection to the rest of the world.  And this window must face
east, she thought, for such a strong ray of light to reach her so
shortly after dawn.  That would explain, too, why it had seemed so dark
last evening.

A key scraped in the locked door, and Jessica instinctively edged back
into a corner and huddled, shivering wear' fly from the chill, from
fatigue and from fear.  Even her shivers were halfhearted, she thought,
as she forced herself to look at Frank Winkowski.

"I brought you some food," he said, and set a paper plate down on the
floor.  On it sat a limp, thin sandwich.  Next to it he placed a large
paper cup.

"Why are you doing this, Frank?"  she asked him, hating the faint
uncertain sound of her voice.  Yes, she was a coward, but it wasn't
something she wanted this man to know.

"You know why, Jessica."

"No, I don't!  At least tell me that much, Frank!  Are you going to
kill me?  Why?"  Her voice rose in desperation, and he stepped
backward.

"I don't want to kill you," he said after a moment.  "I won't, unless
they don't let me go."

"Go where?"  she asked, trying to keep her voice down, trying not to
drive him away before she at least had some kind of answer.

"Oat of the country.  Come on, Jessica.  You know what's been going on!
Hell, you were working with the FBI on it."

"I was?"  Her mind scrambled frantically for some way to deny what he~
already seemed to know.  And then she thought of Leong.  "I was working
as a double agent, you mean?  Because of that Chinese student who kept
trying to meet with me?"

"Chinese student?"  Frank looked startled.  "What Chinese student?  I'm
talking about that damned missing document you made such a stink
about."

"The document?  But I reported that to Barron.  What does the FBI have
to do with that?"  Please, God, please let

Serio~ Risks 227

him believe I don't have anything to do with what frightened him.
Please!

Frank took another backward step, looking uncertain for the first time.
"Don't lie to me, Jessica.  You called that Coulter guy yesterday
morning to tell him about me.  I heard you."

Jessica's heart sank, and hope began to die.  "I called to make a lunch
date with him," she argued.

"Right.  And as soon as you told him your suspicions about me, he would
know about Barron, too."  He started to turn away.  "I'll be back in
fifteen minutes, and you can talk to your boyfriend."

An agonizing throb of hope pierced her heart.  Arlen.  Was Arlen here?
"My boyfriend?"  she repeated, and hated the hoarse, weak sound of her
own voice.

"The FBI guy.  Did you think I didn't know?"  Frank looked at her.  In
the faint, dim light, his expression was hard to read, but to Jessica
it looked frighteningly like revulsion.  "I thought you were a lady,
Jessica," he said.  "You always seemed like such a lady.  But everybody
at the FBI office knows you're living with him.  Everybody.  You can't
be much of a lady, after all."

Jessica stared after him as he stomped out and locked the door once
again.  Everybody at the FBI office knew?  Well, that seemed likely
enough, she thought.

Funny how her mind wanted to se'tze on everything except her own
impending doom.  Her thoughts played hide-and-seek with the intolerable
and insisted on thinking about the evidently tattered state of her
reputation rather than.  other things.

And then understanding hit her hard, knocking the wind from her and
tearing a short groan from her lips.  Frank had spoken of what
everybody at the FBI office knew, and there was only one way he could
know something like that.  She didn't have a chance in hell.  Not a
chance.  Sh6 was as good as dead, because somebody at the Bureau had a
good mason for not wanting her or Frank to be found.

Chapter 12

The coffee urn held nothing but hot sludge, so Arlen spent a few
minutes cleaning it and starting a fresh pot.  Most of the agents who
had filled the office to overflowing last night had found someplace to
crash.  Soon they would be returning, and life would fill the silence
of the offices.

Walking back down the hall to his own office, he passed by Phil
Harrigan's door.  Hearing the murmur of Phil's voice, Arlen paused,
raising a hand to knock and go in.

"I told you not to do anything," Phil said.  "I warned you."

It didn't sound like a good time to intrude, so, mug in hand, he
continued down the corridor.

Maddy Karin showed up moments later and dropped a computer printout on
his desk.  A small, birdlike woman with huge green eyes, she appeared
lost in herself most of the time.

"Everything I've been able to find on Winkowski," she said.  She made
no secret of her weariness, but pulled off her horn-rims and rubbed her
eyes.  "I don't think there's a damn thing there to help you, Arlen. 
If he made any money apart from his job, he hid it.  If he knew anybody
he shouldn't, I can't find it.  He appears to be completely clean."

"He can't be."  ;

"I know."  Maddy yawned.  "I'm going home for a couple hours of sleep,
and then I'll be back."

For lack of anything more useful or active to do, Arlen smothered his
own yawn and started flipping through the information Maddy had
gleaned.

The phone rang.  Every hair on the back of his neck stood up, and his
heart slammed into the wall of his chest once, twice.  As he lifted the
receiver, the attached recorder automatically began to run.

"Coulter," he said.

"Listen," said the muffled voice.

And then, "Arlen?"

The sound of Jessica's tentative, frightened voice smashed into Arlen
with all the impact of an out-of-control freight train.  "Are you
okay?"  he barked into the phone.

"Y-yes .... Arlen, why didn't you tell me everybody at your office was
talking about us?"

Startled by her direction, Arlen stiffened and frowned.  "Jessie?"

"You should have told me," she said with an intensity that sounded
almost wild.  "Arlen... Arlen, I need to tell you"

"That's it," interrupted the muffled voice.

There was a click as the connection was cut, and Arlen found himself
staring at the humming receiver.  An image of his fist slamming into
Winkowski's face clouded his vision.  He found himself, for the first
time in his life, wanting to commit atrocities against another human
being.

"Arlen?"  Phil Harrigan stood in the doorway of his office.  "Was that
the kidnapper?  Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Arlen said grimly.  "I'm fine.  I'd like to kill the son of
a bitch.  Slowly."

Hamgan shifted uneasily.  "Did he make any demands?"

"No, he just let Jessica say a couple of words.  That's all.  Damn it!"
Heedless of the pain--indeed, grateful for ithe pounded his fist one
futile time on the top of his desk.  "Damn it," he said again, more
quietly.  "Damn it."

"I'm going across the street to pick up something for brealdast,"
Hardgan said after a few moments.  "What can I get for you?"

Arlen sure as hell didn't want to eat, but he knew better.  "A double
order of dry whole wheat toast and orange juice.  Thanks, Phil."

"No problem."

Swiveling his chair, Arlen leaned back and looked up at the brightening
morning sky.  The soft glow of dawn had given way to a harsher,
brighter, clearer blue.  Behind him,

beyond his door, he heard arriving agents.  Questio6s began to swarm
around him like bees.

Why had Phil Harrigan hung around all night?  He hadn't been assigned
to the team that had pulled the night shift.  Everybody else had gone
home a couple of hours ago, or headed to a hotel to grab some
shut-eye.

Why didn't you tell me everybody at your office was talking about us?
How did she know that, even if it was true?  And Arlen certainly didn't
know if it was, because nobody would have the nerve to gossip about it
to his face.  Who could have told her that?  Winkowskl?  And how the
hell would he know?  And, under the circumstances, why had Jessie
considered something that was really so trivial so important that it
was all she had managed to say to him?  It didn't seem like her,
somehow.

l told you not to do anything.  I warned you.  Phil's mysterious
morning conversation.

Arlen snapped out of his chair as if propelled on springs.  Striding to
the door of his office, he raised his voice.  "Who's here this
morning?"

Two minutes later he was closeted in his office with Lisa Gonzales, Ted
Wilson and Colleen Mahaffey, who had just walked through the door.

At least Frank had been decent enough to leave her with a thermos of
hot soup and a jug of water.  Jessica considered smashing the insulated
bottle, but couldn't figure out what she could possibly use the
eggshell shards of glass for.

It wasn't as if she could cut the chains from her ankles, which felt
terribly sore from the constant chafing and banging of those steel
bands.

The soup warmed her a little, easing the chill that had penetrated
during the night, but she still felt cold.  She tried hobbling around
the room to warm herself, but she couldn't move fast enough to do any
good, and the steel rings around her ankles had rubbed her flesh nearly
raw, so movement was agony.

Finally, huddled again in the corner, she wrapped her arms around
herself and closed her eyes.  The present was unbearable, so she
resorted to a childhood game.  Starting from the moment she had opened
her front door to him the first time, she would remember each and every
minute of her relationship with Arlen.  In sequence, in full detail. It
would pass the time.

And time, she realized with a tightening throat, was suddenly something
she had both too much and not enough of.

If only she had told him that she loved him.

Phil Hardgan walked back into Arlen's office a half hour later with a
foam container of toast and a plastic bottle of orange juice.  Halfway
across the room, he seemed to no-flee the silence that had settled over
the agents already there.  He glanced from Wilson to Gonzales and then
to Mahaffey.  When his gaze settled on Arlen once again, there was a
look of dawning comprehension in his eyes.

"Thanks, Phil," Arlen said, accepting his breakfast.  "Have a seat."

Said pleasantly, it was still a command.  Phil sat.  "Ted?"  Arlen
said.

Wilson crossed the room, his young face set in hard lines.  "I'd like
your weapon, Phil."

"Why?"  Phil tried to smile and look relaxed.  "What's up?"

"Give him your weapon, !~il," Arlen said grimly, and waited until the
pistol was firmly in Ted's hand.  "Now.  Maybe you'd like to tell me
where Jessica Kilmer is."

Phil raised his eyebrows.  "You're kidding, right?"

"Wrong."  Arlen leaned forward, impaling him with an arctic stare from
gray eyes that suddenly looked like shards of steel.  "I haven't read
you your rights yet, Phil.  Nothing you say right now can be used
against you.  Where the hell is Jessica Kilmer?"

Phil started to rise, but Lisa Gonzales stopped him with a heavy hand
on his shoulder.  Inexorably, she pressed him back down.

"What the hell makes you think I know anything about where she is?"
Phil demanded hotly.  "Damn it, I can't believe this!"

"Believe it, you son of a bitch;" Arlen said on a low, angry growl.
"And right now it's all I can do not to come around this desk and smash
your lying face.  You were assigned to protect that woman!  You, a
federal agent!  Damn it, I'm the one who can't believe this.  How does
it feel to be only the second FBI agent in history to get involved in
spying?  Tell me, Phil, where the hell is she and what the hell did you
get out of this?"

"You're crazy, Arlen," Phil argued.  "I don't know where you got this
insane idea, but you sure ~s hell can't prove any of it!"

"" No?  " For just a split second, a pause so brief that it was almost
unnoticeable, Arlen considered that he might be wrong.  Phil was right:
there was no proof.  All he had was what Jessica had said and a snatch
of overheard conversation.  Then he plunged ahead.  " Right now, about
the only possible way I can see you not winding up with a couple of
life sentences is if you cooperate, Phil.  We're talking espionage and
kidnapping.  The Bureau is going to have your skin.  "

When Phil remained silent, Arlen shrugged.  "Have it your way.  Lisa,
read him his rights."

That was when Phil decided that Arlen wasn, t bluffing.  If he was
going to be Mirandized, then Arlen meant to arrest him, and Arlen
wouldn't set himself up for charges of false arrest.  Somehow they had'
gotten evidence against him.

"Okay," he said as Lisa pulled out her card.  "Okay.  But I didn't have
to do with this and I

don't know where the.  Kilmer woman is.  Honest to God.  Winkowski
freaked out.  I knew he was getting edgy, and I warned him not to do
anything, but he didn't listen.  I swear, he did this on his own, just
like he killed Dave Bar ton.  " '

"A loose cannon," Arlen remarked.

"Yeah.  Exactly.  He's crazy."

"Do you think you can get him to tell you where Jessica is?"

Phil shrugged.  "Maybe.  Probably.  Damn it, Arlen, you've got to
believe me.  I didn't want to see her hurt."

"You damn well better hope she hasn't been," Arlen said harshly.  "I'm
going to get Winkowski, at the very least, and maybe Dobrocek and
Stratton, and at least one of them is going to tell me all about you,
Phil.  One of them will, but I'm betting on Winkowski.  I'm willing to
bet he'll do any~ thing to save his butt.  Jus~t like he's doing right
now."

Harrigan slumped a little as he faced the truth of that.  "Yeah," he
muttered.  "Probably."

Arlen passed a hand over his face.  "Okay.  Let's get Caro Granger down
here.  We're going to Mirandize you, Phil.  You just keep in mind that
Granger is the person you need to convince that you have some redeeming
qualities.  She's the one who cuts the deals.  Do you want an
attorney?"

Phil heaved a deep, unsteady sigh.  "What the hell for?"  he asked
wearily.  "An attorney will only tell me not to say anything, and I
already know that."

"Get him an attorney," Carolyn Granger said not five minutes later.
"Mirandizing him isn't enough to make it stick in court.  He's got to
have counsel, or a smart defense attorney can weasel him out of
this."

Phil muttered an oath.  "I doubt that," he said acidly.  "I'm a federal
agent, for crying out loud.  Who the hell is going to believe I didn't
know any better?  Hell, I don't believe it myself.  Look, I'm not going
~to discuss anything I did without an attorney.  I'm not going to admit
to anything at all except that I know the number of Frank Win-kowski's
radiophone."

"You do?"  Arlen sat up straighter.

Phil nodded.

Aden's expression was hard.  "Why so suddenly cooperative, Phil?"

Phil spread his hands.  This time Aden couldn't doubt his sincerity.
"I'm worried he might get nervous enough to hurt the woman.  Nobody was
ever supposed to get hurt.  I never guessed Frank was so unstable."

For the next hour Phil tried to raise Frank Winkowski, without success.
Aden found it increasingly difficult to sit still, and he paced the
circumference of his office almost ceaselessly, answering whatever
questions came his way, ordering whatever needed to be ordered.  Agents
were searching Winkowski's home and office yet again, interviewing
neighbors and co-workers, seeking any clue to his whereabouts.  Maddy
Karin produced the first unusual information about Winkowski--just two
days before, he had paid in cash for a new car at a dealership along
the interstate.  The dealer was only just now getting around to
reporting the cash purchase, as required by law.

"And that's something," said Lisa Gonzales.  "Most dealers don't even
bother."

Well, thought Aden, now they knew Winkowski was driving a shiny red
Accord with temporary tags.  Obviously the guy hadn't been planning to
run two days ago.  Big help.  Real big help.  If Jessica got out of
this in one piece, he was going to.  going to.  Going to what?  Turn
his back on her and let her get on with a proper life, that was what.
He wouldn't take further advantage of her, that was what.  She needed a
husband and the next fifty or sixty years.  That was what she needed,
and he wouldn't stand in her way: Just, dear God, please let her be all
right And then Phil got through to Winkowski.  "Frank, it's Phil."

Phil's voice brought Arlen pivoting around from the window.

"Look," said Phil, "you haven't hurt the woman, have you?"

Arlen held his breath, then released it as Phil looked up at him and
shook his head.  Two other agents were listening in on headsets, and
Arlen was tempted to grab a pair from one of them, He held himself
back, though, knowing he might get upset enough to give the game away.
So much for his iron control.  It had been a joke, evidently, ever
since he met Jessie.  Ever since he saw her virginal room and.  He
hoped heaven could forgive him, but he still wanted to see Jessie clad
in nothing but her hair, lying on that satin comforter and waiting for
him.  Just for him.  Smiling, holding out her arms, her long silky hair
trailing across her shoulders and breasts.

"Frank," Phil was saying, his tone one of sooth!  ng patience, the kind
of tone a parent uses with an upset, recalcitrant child, "Frank, listen
to me.  I've got all the details about the trap that's being set for
you.  Believe me, you'll never get out of the airport unless you know
what they're planning."

Phil listened for a minute, then interrupted.  "I know, I know.  But
I've got a price for this, Frank.  I'm not going to tell you what I
know for nothing.  You know I never do anything for nothing."

Arlen could hear, actually hear, the whining of Win-kowski's voice on
Phil's handset.

"Just shut up and listen, F-rank," Phil said.  "I can't tell you over
the phone, because somebody might hear me.  I

need to meet you Anyplace, damn it!  Just tell me where.  "

After another space, Phil nodded.  "Got it.  Okay..  My price?  It's
cheap, Frank.  I want to know where you've stashed the woman."  Phil
winced and pulled the receiver away from his ear.  "Damn it, Frank,
shut up!  You're sounding like a crazy man!  You can tell me where she
is after I tell you what the setup is and how to avoid it.  Fine.  But
you will tell me."  He paused.  "Because I want to be the hero in this
one, Frank.  While you're flying away to Moscow or wherever you're
planning to go, I want to be the one who saves the woman.  That's why.
You get what you want, and I get to be a hero."  Arlen hardly dared
believe that Winkowski could fall for anything so transparent, but
Harrigan evidently knew what he was doing.  In a few more minutes a
meeting had been set up.

"Two' hours," said Phil after he hung up.  "The guy's really cracked.
With all the flat, open places he could have picked around here, he
chose the hill country out toward Lago ~Ssta.  Plenty of cover."

Arlen nodded.  That made his job much easier, but it also shortened his
time.  Two hours.  In two hours he was going to have the little crud in
his grasp, and if Winkowski wouldn't tell Phil where Jessie was, Arlen
was prepared to use whatever means were necessary to get the
information.  To hell with careers and headlines and what the director
thought.  All that mattered was Jessie.

It was a day, Arlen thought, for barreling down back country roads on
the Harley, roaring around the curves and over hills with the wind in
his face.  The sky had turned a pure, crystalline blue,.  the sun was
warm and the air was dry.  They just didn't come much prettier.

But instead of roaring down roads to oblivion, he was crouching behind
a boulder with the sun burning the back of his neck.  Fire ants were
everywhere, and while he had so far not been bitten, he didn't expect
that to last.  The thought of rattlesnakes slithered across his mind,
too.  Probably too early in the spring for them-, he told himself.  But
what did he know about such things?  A trickle of sweat rolled down his
back between 1~ shoulder blades, and he shrugged to ease away the
t~ultant itchiness.  Something sharp poked inW his right buttock, but
he ignored it.  Such discomforts were legion on a stakeout.

All the patience he had learned on past stakeouts was doing him little
good 'on this one, though.  Sure, he knew how to sit quietly for hours
and ignore all the discomforts-within reason--but the emotional
pressure this time was something else.

And where the devil was Winkowski?

They'd had very little time to set the stage for this one.  By car it
took nearly an hour to get here from town, and then they'd all had to
find appropriate hiding places.  As a precautionary measure there were
two marksmen higher up,

hidden in the rugged terrain with their high-powered rifles and sniper
scopes.  The narrow road leading in and out of here would be sealed the
instant Winkowski arrived.  Down below; leaning against his dusty
caliche-colored Buick, Phil Hardgan waited.

Arlen doubted he was ever going to understand Harrigan.  In his youth,
Arlen had skirted the law a time or two.  Why not admit it?  He'd been
a hell-raiser at times, wanting to wring more out of life than it had
given him.  He'd felt bitter and alienated and all 'those other things
'that make people cross the street when they see you coming.  But
never, ever, in his wildest moments or wildest imaginings, would he
have considered committing a crime of this type.  Hell, wild or not, he
had enlisted in the marines even though, in those days, as a married
man he had an automatic draft deferment.  Maybe he'd wanted some of the
excitement that boys blindly and foolishly think is wah maybe he had
wanted some of the glory and a lot more action than his tame little
community could provide, but behind his decision was a blazing
patriotism, a belief that no place in the world gave a man more
opportunities, more chances, more freedoms.  He felt he owed something
to his country.

No, he would never understand what led a man to sell out his country
this way.  Nor would he ever understand how a man could compromise his
personal honor and integrity in such a manner.  He had never understood
it in anyone, but it was far more comprehensible in some of the sleaze
he had dealt with over the years than it could ever be in a man like
Phil Hardgan--who was evidently a sleaze after all.

All the way out here Phil had been spilling his guts, as if his
conscience had finally gone into overdrive and he wanted to appease it.
His entire role in the espionage ring had been to warn Carl Stratton if
the Feds picked up wind of the spying activities.  In return for
agreeing to do that, he'd received a monthly cash payment, free and
clear, under the table.

Tax evasion, Arlen thought when he heard it.  That would get him if
nothing else did.

Carl Stratton had evidently been the kingpin of the operation.  Phil
had the names of everyone involved only be cause he had to be alert for
them being mentioned at the Bureau offices or elsewhere.  Otherwise, he
probably wouldn't have known about anyone other than Carl.  As it was,
he knew them all and was in contact with them all.  All, that is,
except Carl's KGB contact.

Until Dobrocek had been introduced to Jessica Kilmer by Greg Leong,
Phil hadn't had even an inkling of the man's identity.  He had, of
course, known that Carl must have such a contact, but not until then
did he guess who it might be.  He had, he said, tried to warn Carl that
Jessica was acting as a double agent, had tried to prevent the contact
from being made, but Carl had been out of town, and at that time only
Carl had known Dobrocek's identity.  Phil's inability to transmit his
warning was the only reason Dob-rocek had ever come into the picture.
Even after Jessica was introduced to Dobrocek, Phil hadn't been sure
the Czech was connected with Stratton, not until Maddy Karin had made
her discoveries.

"What was Dave Barron's role?"  Arlen had asked him.  "About the same
as mine.  All he had to do was provide Carl with the safe combinations.
And keep an eye on security, so he would catch trouble as soon as it
started.  Like it did with Kilmer."

"Who killed him?"

"Winkowski."  Phil had passed a hand over his face and looked at the
tape recorder microphone Caro Granger held up beside his mouth.  He and
Caro had sat in the back s. ~t, Arlen and Phil's hastily summoned
public defender in the front.  The public defender had given up trying
to silence Phil.  Like the others, he now simply listened in
fascination.

"Winkowski's a problem," Phil had said.  "A big problem: From what I've
been able to gather, Barron told him that Jessica was raising a big
stink about that document, and that it wasn't going to die a quiet
death.  He said he was going to report the theft to the FBI to make it
look as if MTI were clean.  Winkowski snapped, and I don't think he's
unsnapped.  I told him not to bother the woman.  I told him nobody
would ever guess he was involved.  Damn, them wasn't any connection
except Cad, and Carl left the country re

Phil had broken off, and Aden's hands had tightened on the wheel. "Damn
it, Phil!  When did he leave?  I-re never even came back to his
apartment after Maddy..."  Arlen's voice had trailed off.  When he'd
spoken again, his voice had held the sleet of an arctic blizzard.  "You
warned him we were on to him."  '

"Hell, yes," Phil had said.  "Ever since this thing started going
haywire, I've been worrying that somebody would start squealing.  As
far as I was concerned, it was all to the good if everybody skipped the
country."

Carl was already gone, having been seen by no one since Sunday night,
the night Phil had called him and warned him that Maddy Karin had
connected him with Dobrocek.

Crouched behind his boulder now, Aden considered one or two unsavory
things he might like to do to Phil and Winkowski.  Especially
Winkowski.  Especially the man who had terrified and kidnapped Jessica.
God help him if he had hurt her in any way.

It had been Phil who had bugged Jessica's phones, because he was
concerned about the kind of information that Jessica might uncover and
pass on to Arlen, and he didn't want to be forced to rely on whatever
Arlen chose to tell him about it.  He had slipped over there that
Saturday night after Arlen had told him that Jessica was going to be a
double agent.  He'd gone over in that small space of time after he left
the Bureau office and before Arlen went over to Jessie's to check on
her:

The memory of that night hit Arlen like a punch to the stomach.
Everyone automatically understood that a woman's gift of her virginity
was an emotionally charged one for the woman, but he wondered how many
people understood that it could be just as emotionally charged for a
man.  He sure hadn't guessed it himself.  Lucy had come to him a virgin
because that was the way things were done back then in the small towns
of America, and because she really hadn't had the time or experience to
find out that it could be otherwise.  Hell, he'd been a virgin himself,
as most boys had been back then, despite locker-room talk.

Their wedding night had in no way aroused in him the feelings Jessica
had evoked with her freely given gift, a gift she had chosen not to
give anyone until him.

She hadn't asked for a ring or undying love or guarantees.  She had
simply given, freely.  And he, whether he liked to think about it or
not, had received that gift v)ith an awe and wonder he felt to the very
roots of his soul.

Static crackled in his ear, and he adjusted the earphone, seating it
more firmly, then glanced down at the radio attached to his belt.

"Suspect is on his way," said the voice of Colleen Mahaffey, who was
stationed at the junction where this dirt road turned off from the
farm-to-market road that was the 0my way to get here.  "He's driving
slowly and looking every which way, so duck low.  We'll seal the.  road
in three minutes."

Automatically Arlen freed his weapon from its holster and checked it.
The automatic was ready, of course.  He'd checked the clip before
leaving town, but he checked it again, anyway.  He was sure every other
agent hidden in these rocks and sparse trees was doing precisely the
same thing.

A slow toasting over hot coals?  Or a skinning?  Alive.  Inch by h~eh.
Such thoughts bounced around in his head as he watched Winkowski ease
his shiny new car around potholes and the occasional large rock.
Anything was too good for the scum.  I~overing himself up a little, he
watched Winkowski climb out of the car and face Phil, who remained in
a~relaxed posture, leaning against the side of his Buick.

phil was wearing a wire, and conversation began to burst into Arlen'~
ear, full of static, mixed with the rustle of PhiFs clothing, but
decipherable.

"Damn it, man," Phil said, "I told you not to do this!  YoWve got the
Bureau hopping mad.  They're determined to l~ave your skin."

"I didn't come out here to discuss how mad those guys are," Winkowski
said shortly.  "You're gonna tell me what they've got planned."

"You tell me where the woman is first."  Phil held up a hand when
Winkowski started to sputter.  "Can it, Frank.  I don't trust you any
farther than I can throw you.  You're cracked.  You would have been
home free.  if you'd just sat tight, but you didn't have the sense to
do that."

"How the hell do I know I can trust you, Harrigan?"

"Simple.  I want you out of the country because you can finger me.  I
don't want you caught any more than you want to be caught.  I want you
safely away so I can be safe.  But you've got this dangerous little bit
of baggage hanging around your neck.  Think of your future, Frank.
We've got a lot of extradition treaties around the world.  We can get
you back from almost any country if you're wanted for murder, but we
can't get you back from most of thexa if you're wanted for espionage.
So it seems to me you need to get the woman off your hands.  And I
figure since she's gotta be rescued for your benefit, I'might as well
be the one to do it."

Winkowski paced back and forth, and Arlen found himself holding his.
breath wondering ff Winkowski would buy the stuff about extradition
treaties.

"I'm already wanted for mffrder," Winkowski said, damning himself on
tape.  "They've got me on Barron."

"Man, I told you, they don't have any evidence on anyone for that!  So
he was murdered.  It's one thing to know somebody was murdered.  It's a
whole other ballgame to prove that one particular.  person did it.
They've got nothing on no one for that."

Winkowski hesitated.  -"You're sure?"

"Of course I'm sure?  Phil drew a breath of long-Suffering patience,
and even over the poor radio connection Arlen could hear him lowering
his tone deliberately.  " Look, Frank.  It's as much to my benefit as
yours to get you the hell out of here.  Do you think I want those guys
questioning you?  "

"Okay."  Winkowski's capitulation came that quickly and without
warning.  "Jessica's in the trunk of my ear.  I put drugs in her water
so she wouldn't make any trouble."

That was when Arlen saw red, but he didn't lose his self-control.  He
couldn't.  He couldn't afford to.  Instead, while

Phil and Frank had their backs to him as they opened the trunk of
Frank's car and looked in at Jessica, he began to creep up behind them.
Phil, acting like an agent, thank God, kept Frank's attention on the
think.

"What the hell did you drug her with?"  Phil asked.  "Are you sure she
didn't get too much?"

"I checked the dosages," Frank said.  "It's just some phenobarbital.
Even if she drank the whole quart of water at onetime, it should just
make her sick.  Anyway, nobody drinks a whole quart at once."

"I don't know," Phil said.  "I don't want to get saddled with any
corpses.  And look at her ankles.  Damn, Frank, what did you do to
her?"

"I had to chain her ankles so she couldn't get away.  I have to admit,
I never thought those cuffs would rub her so bad."

Phil leaned forward.  "She doesn't look too good.  What if she got
carbon monoxide poisoning?  Why'd you have to put her in the trunk?"

That did it.  Arlen made a flying tackle on Winkowskl and found the
impact to be one of the most satisfying sensations of his entire life.
It appeased a deep, atavistic need to smash the man in ways that
civilization wouldn't per-reit.  A few short seconds later he was
handcuffing the man and battling the urge to flatten his face.

"I could do it for you," Phil said, as if he could read Arlen's mind.
"I'm going to prison anyway."

His knee still on the small of Winkowski's back, Arlen looked up at
Phil.  "I'm going to remember what you just did.  How you helped."  '

Phil gave a short nod.  "Thanks."

Pulling the numbness around him like a shield, Arlen stood up and
looked into the trunk.  Jessica looked so pale, so fragile, and her
ankles were raw and inflamed.  Leaning over, he brushed her hair back
and felt for the pulse in her neck.  Too slow, it was nonetheless
strong and steady.  She wasn't in any immediate danger.

He turned in time to see Ted Wilson pull Winkowski to his feet.
Forgetting all the otherS agents, not giving a damn,

anyway, he stepped up to Winkowski and bent over until he stood
nose-to-nose with him.

"You better not have laid a finger on her, Winkowski.  You better not
have hurt her.  Because if you did, I'll find you, and I'll make you
pay

"Aden..."  Ted tried to silence him, knowing the threat could get him
into trouble.

But everyone, Caro Granger included, abruptly turned their backs,
leaving Winkowski and Arlen facing one another in a c'Lrcle of people
suddenly gone blind and deaf.  And, strangely, it was that gesture of
support that brought Arlen back to his senses.  An agent didn't make
threats like that.  An agent didn't step outside the law, no matter how
he'd been provoked.  Not even when others did.

Gritting his teeth, he looked Frank Winkowski right in the eye and saw
the.  fear, mindless and overwhelming, that possessed the man.  Fear
made men do awful things, stupid things.

And then Aden turned his own back on Winkowski, and he didn't look at
him again.

Chapter 13

Jessica woke in a hospital bed, the night sky clearly visible beyond
the open slats of the window blinds.  Before she could positively
comprehend where she was or what it meant, strong arms closed around
her, lifting her from a firm pillow to cradle her against a firm
chest.

"It's all right, Jessie," murmured a familiar, oddly husky voice. "It's
okay, love.  You're safe now.  You're safe."

Weakly, horrified at herself even as she did it, Jessica turned her
face into Arlen's shoulder and began to weep helplessly.

"Shh..."  he soothed gently.  "Shh ... I swear you're safe now,
sweetheart."  He stroked her hair from the top of her head to her hips,
and when his hand slipped into 'the back of her hospital gown to stroke
Satin skin, she sobbed even harder, clung even harder.

He knew he needed to leave her, but now was not the time.  Another
excuse.  Just as he'd used the excuse that he had to give her whatever
she wanted from him simply because he had deflowered her.  And what an
old-fashioned term that was.  Jessie would probably chuckle over it.

Whatever he called it, it was an excuse.  An excuse to cover the fact
that he cared when he didn't want to care,

that he was involved when he had sworn to remain uninvolved.  God, what
would she think if she found out he was having fugitive~ thoughts of
her belly swelling with his child, insane thoughts of starting again at
an age when he was about to become a grandfather?

How could he begin to e~plain to her that in the past two days he had
walked through the fire once again, had faced the hell he had sworn
never to face again?  And that he'd discovered he would risk the terror
of loss again and again if only he could have the privilege of holding
her one more time?

How could a man of forty-two, who was about to be-come a grandfatl~x,
e~plain to a young woman of twenty-six that he honestly believed he
wasn't too old, that he had a few more sandlot ballgames in him, a few
more doll tea parties, a few more years of dirty diapers and first
steps and first grades and.  Aw, hell, she'd never believe it.  Not
after he'd made such a big deal about being finished with all that. She
would think he had lost his marbles.

And he had no business telling her such things, anyway.  She was
entitled to a man her own age and a future that waa fifty or sixty
years long, not one that was only thirty or forty.  She des crated to
share her firsts with a man for whom they would also be firsts.

He rocked her back and forth and kissed away her tears, aching for her
with a depth that was going to haunt him all.  his days.  But he had to
let go.

"I want... I want to go home," she begged unsteadily.  "I want to be in
my own bed ... with you ... Arlen, plea~...."

He wanted it, too.  "In the morning, sweetheart.  I promise you can go
I~ome in the morning."

"I want to go now!"

"They have~ to watch you.  You had some"

"Now," she said again, a sob breaking the word in the middle.  "Now!"

She was irrational, he thought, and didn't find it strange that she
should be.  And he could certainly understand why she wouldn't feel
that all this was over--couldn't feel truly safe--until she was home.
That was what being home meant.  He understood that because he hadn't
been home in years.  Not since Lucy got really sick.  Not until he had
felt Jessie's arms close around him.

"Okay," he said, making the decision instantly.  "I'll get a nurse."

The nurse flat-out refused to remove the IV needle, because Jessica
hadn't been discharged by a physician.

Arlen had run out of patience.  Every last dreg of it had drained away.
Jessica had never before heard him use the tone he used now, and she
hoped he would never use it on her.  It was a tone so soft, so cold, so
threatening, that icy fingers skittered up and down her own spine.  In
that tone of voice, Special Agent Arlen Coulter advised Nurse Ben-ford
that she had no legal right whatsoever to detain Ms.  Kilmer against
her will, and that if she chose to continue in this fashion, he would
continue with her in his particular fashion.  Nurse Benford never asked
what that fashion might be.  The man was, after all, a federal agent.

"I'll get the house resident," the nurse said.  "Really, Agent Coulter,
I can't remove the IV without a doctor's order.  I'm a nurse.  I'm not
allowed to make modical decisions without a doctor's direction."

The house resident took one look at Arlen's expression and was
persuaded, but he didn't give in completely.  He was, after all, a
doctor, and he wasn't about to make a medical decision that could leave
him open for a malprac-' rice suit.  He examined Jessica first, before
deciding that in all likelihood she would live without medical
intervention beyond antibiotics to prevent infection of the abrasions
on her ankles.  He wrote the prescription himself and told Nurse
Benford to discontinue the IV.

Jessie's clothes were filthy, and Arlen wouldn't hear of her putting
them on again.  Nurse Benford, no longer in the line of fire on this
one, became helpful.  She brought another hospital gown and put it on
Jessica like a robe.  A wheelchair appeared, along with an orderly to
take her downstairs, but Arlen insisted on pushing her himself.

Jessica was aware of his concern, of his fussing, of his sweet, sweet
caring.  She wanted to tell him that she loved him because it seemed so
important, had been so important throughout her ordeal, that he know,
but every time she opened her mouth to say it her breath caught on
another sob.  What was wrong with her?

It was a nice evening, he thought as he helped Jessie into the car. The
air was warm, the breeze gentle, the night soft with moisture from the
Gulf.  There was more rain coming, he thought, but not tonight.
Regardless, he was going to open the windows in Jessie's room and let
the breeze wash over her.  She needed the openness, the fresh breath of
the air.

Reaching out, he pulled her up against his side, under his arm, as he
drove.  Her sobs had softened, but still they came, soaking his shirt,
tearing his heart.

"You need a decent meal," he told her soothingly.  "You're just worn
down, worn out.  You'll feel better soon, sweetheart.  I promise."

She clung to his words, to his promise, and hoped he was right.  Never
in her life had she wept like this, as if her grief were so bottomless
and deep that there was no way to plumb it.  This was ridiculous, she
told herself.  She was safe.  The danger was over, and Arlen's arms
were around her.

"I told you I'm a coward," she managed to choke out brokenly.

But he didn't believe this had anything to do with fear or cowardice.
It was a straightforward, honest reaetionto intolerable events.  Nor
was she going to get over this.  quickly or easily.  Victims paid a
price for years.

He helped her upstairs and insisted on replacing the hospital gown with
a cotton gown of her own.  He found it in the dresser drawer just below
the drawer she had cleared out for him to use.  It smelled fresh, like
laundry soap and sunshine, and carried no taint of disinfectants, as
the hospital gown did.  It was another step away from the nightmare for
her.

When he had her tucked safely under the covers, he opened the tall
windows on either side of her bed and let the warm breeze glide over
her.

"What would you like to eat?"  he asked.  He perched beside her and
took her hand in his.

"I'm not sure I can eat," she managed to say tremulously as she dashed
away another errant tear.  "I... s~m to be... out of control."

"That's to be expected," he said firmly, in a tone that left no room
for doubt.  "You've been through an ordeal.  A terrible ordeal.  You
cry all you want to, Jessie.  But it would sure make me happy if you
tried to eat something."

She sniffled.  "I can't .... '."  Another sob caught her.  "Arlen ...
Arlen, please ... I just need you.  to hold me .... "

So he kicked off his shoes, shucked his shirt, tie and belt and lay
down beside her.  Gathering her as close as he could, he held her
shuddering, shaking body while sobs racked her.  And finally, a long,
long time later, exhaustion carried her into a natural sleep.

Arlen didn't sleep.  He held her tenderly, every whisper of her breath
a caress on his skin, her warmth filling him and soothing him.  He knew
now with absolute certainty what a future without Jessie looked like,
and as the minutes marched by he stared into that abyss.

It was still dark when Jessica opened her eyes.  She felt calm now,
secure and safe, as if Arlen's sheltering presence had suffused her and
driven away the nightmare of the past few days.  With a sigh, she
snuggled closer and thanked God for Aden Coulter.  Whatever happened,
she had been blessed to know him, to share this time with him.  And at
the first opportunity she was going to tell him how much she loved him,
whether he wanted to hear it or not.

Arlen stirred, reaching across her, and then Jessie blinked as he
turned on the bedside lamp.  Tilting her head back, she looked into
flannel-gray eyes and felt as if the wind had been knocked from her. So
warm, so intense, so caring.  "How do you feel, Jessie?"

"Much better," she murmured, daring to lay her hand on his bare chest.
Afraid he would speak of leaving' now that she was safe, she seized on
a safer topic.  "Who was it, Ar-len?  Who was the agent who was working
with Frank?"

$ertous R~Rs 249

She had wondered so hard and for so many hours that she felt as if only
an answer would end the whole affair.  "Phil Harrigan."

"HarriSgan!"  She was genuinely shocked.  "Why?  Why did he do it?"

"He says he did it for the excitement."

"Excitement?"  Jessie couldn't believe it.  "For excitement?"  '

"That's what he says.  He's obviously got something screwy in his
thinking, but that's the extent of it.  He was evidently turned on to
the image of himself as a double agent."  For a while he talked of what
had happened, filling her in on events as if he, too, were reluctant to
turn his thoughts to the future.

And then he cupped her.  cheek gently in his hand and turued her face
up to his.

This was it, she thought.  He would leave now that she no longer needed
his protection.  She thought her heart was going to break in two.

"Are you awake?  Really awake?"

"Absolutely."  After all, she thought wildly, you wouldn't want the
condemned man to sleep through his execution.

He nodded, and the sudden strain of his face made her hold her breath
in expectation of the blow.

"Jessie, I'm a selfish bastard to bring this up now, but I can't stand
it another minute."

Her hand curled on his chest until her nails bit into her palm.  She
waited, feeling as hopeless as she had felt in Frank's clutches.

"I love you, Jessie.  I love you, and I don't care how selfish it makes
me, but I can't let you go.  I've been telling myself for week that you
deserve someone younger, that I have nothing to offer you.  And it's
true, Jessie, I don't have a damn.  thing to offer you" -- .

Stunned, she had let him plunge ahead with this self-deprecating
speech, but now she interrupted with a joy that couldn't be contained
another minute.  "I love you, Ar-len."

"But selfish or not, I can't live without..."  His voice trailed off as
her words penetrated.  "You do?"  Gray eyes searched her face hungrily.
"You've been through a lot.  I know you need time .... "

"I don't need any time, Arlen.  I've known for weeks that I love you.
I've known for weeks that I can't live without you."  Tears prickled in
her eyes again, and she couldn't hold them back.  She had never dreamed
it was po~ible to feel so much love, so much joy, so much happiness.
"Tell me again, Arlen.  I never thought... I never hoped ... please
tell me again."

He was happy to tell her again.  It was a relief to tell her again, and
again, and yet again.  And it was absolutely miraculous to hear her
make the same avowal in return.  He kissed away her tears, held her
close to his heart and sent prayers of gratitude winging hear/enward.

"We'll work it all out later when you've had a chance to rest, Jess,
but you'd better know right now that I want the whole nine yards."

She liked the sound of that and cuddled closer.  "Which nine yards?"

"Marriage."

"Mmm.  I wouldn't settle for any less."

He laughed softly.  "You've been settling for a lot less than you
should these past couple of weeks.  I can't believe how selfish I've
been."

"You haven't been selfish.  You were trying to be honest and honorable
with me.  I don't think you were selfish at all."

"That's because you're so damn generous."  He slipped his fingers
gently into her hair and pressed her cheek to his shoulder.  "How man
kids do you want?"

'"Kids?"  She squeaked the word in disbelief.  That was.  one dream she
had been prepared to surrender for him.  "You said... But ... how many
times did you tell me...?"  Her voice trailing away, she twisted until
she could see his face.  The expression she saw there melted her
heart.

"I want to give you my children" he said softly.  "Because I want your
children.  But only if you want them, Jessie."  He kissed her gently on
the lips and then on her damp eyelids.  "I know what I've been saying,"
he said gruffly.  " I've been a complete and total... Never mind.  I'm
sorry it took nearly loaing you to bring me to my senses, but I am in
my right mind at last.  The whole nine yards, Jessie.  All of it,
including the dog, the cat and the station wagon."

Oh, how she liked the sound of that.  "But what about Melanie and
Andrew?"  she asked as a different kind of fear stabbed her.

"Melanie will be thrilled.  She's been trying to persuade me to marry
for years.  Andrew will resent it, but he'll get over it, and it
doesn't matter a damn anyway, because I'm the one marrying you, and
he's not a kid any longer.  This is between us and only us.  "

She turned into him, wrapping her arms around him .  and hugging him
close.  " Two," she said.  " A boy and a girl.  He laughed and squeezed
her.  "I'll try."

It had all been worth it, she thought.  Every fear, every worry, every
risk.