Sallie caught her breath. Had someone been killed? That was always her first thought, her deepest fear.
She held out her hand to him and he took it, squeezing her slender fingers in a painful grip. "What is it?" she asked softly. "Chris?"
"I didn't know it would hurt so bad," he groaned, his voice so low that she could barely hear him. "Oh, God, Sallie, I didn't know."
"Who is it?" she demanded, grasping his arm urgently with her free hand. "Chris Meaker, if you don't tell rne--
He shook his head as if to clear it, as if he'd abruptly realized what she thought. "No," he said thinly.
"No one's dead, unless you want to count me. She's left me, Sallie."
Sallie gaped at him, remembering that he was in love with a woman who wanted the same things she'd once wanted, a nice, normal husband who came home every night, who fathered children and loved them and was around to see them grow up. Evidently the woman had decided that she couldn't live with Chris's job, with knowing that every trip could be his last one. Granted, some of the assignments weren't that dangerous, but it was a high-risk job at best. She hadn't been able to take it, either, the constant worry about someone she loved desperately. Only by cutting Rhy out of her life had she been able to function again.
"What can I do?" she asked in quiet sympathy. "Tell me how to help."
"Tell me it'll get better," he begged, and his voice cracked. "Sallie, hold me. Please, hold me!" To her horror his face twisted and he began to sob, jerking her to him with desperate arms and holding her so tightly that she couldn't breathe. His entire body was shaking and he buried his face in her neck, wetting her skin and hair and collar with his salty tears. Great tearing sobs tore from him and she put her arms around him, giving him what he'd asked for, someone to hold him. She knew what he was feeling; dear God, she knew exactly what he was going through. She'd cTied that way for Rhy, feeling as if he'd torn her insides out and she'd die from the pain of it.
"It'll get better," she promised thickly, tears blurring her own voice. "I know, Chris. I've been there."
He didn't answer, but his arms lifted her, taking her from the floor. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and swallowed, trying to control himself. "God knows it can't get any worse," he whispered, and lifted his head. For a moment his brown eyes, wet and miserable, stared into her wet blue ones, and then he dipped his head and fastened his mouth to hers, kissing her with silent desperation. Sallie understood and she kissed him back. He wasn't kissing her for any sexual reason; it was merely a reaching out for human contact, a plea for comforting. She'd always liked Chris; at that moment she came to love him.
Not the deep, ravenous love she had for Rhy, not even a man-woman type of love. She simply loved him as a human being, a fellow creature who was vulnerable and who needed her. She'd never been needed in her life before; she'd been dependent on her parents, then dependent on Rhy. Certainly Rby had never needed her!
Chris pulled his head back and sighed; then he rested his forehead against hers. "What can I do?" he asked, but she knew that he didn't expect an answer. "How long does it take?"
Now that she could answer. "It took me a couple of months before I could even begin to function again," she told him truthfully, and he winced. "But I worked at getting over it harder than I've ever worked at anything in my life, either before or since."
"I can't believe she did it," he groaned.
"Did you have a fight?" Sallie asked, leading him to the sofa and pushing until he sat down heavily.
His head moved wearily back and forth. "No fight.
Not even an ultimatum. My God, you'd think she'd at least give me a warning! If she wanted to tear my guts out she bull's-eyed first shot!"
Sitting down beside him, Sallie took his hand and held it. With the insight of someone who had been there, she felt that she understood very well the motives of Chris's unnamed lady. He thought it was perfectly all right for him to risk life and limb while she waited patiently at home for him-how much waming did he think she'd have of his death? Did he think the pain would be any less for her if she was suddenly told that he hadn't made it back? Men were so arrogant and selfish, even Chris, and he was one of the most likeable people she'd ever met. Aloud she said, "Don't expect someone to give in just because you can't. You'd have made each other miserable. Face it, you're better off apart."
"I've never loved anyone before," he protested hopelessly. "It's not so easy to give up someone you really love! "
"I did, and I didn't have a choice either. He left me flat on my face."
Chris sighed and stared at the pattern of the carpet, and Sallie could read his anguish in the lines of his face. Chris had always seemed younger than his years, as if life had passed within touching distance of him but had never actually touched him, glancing off his inner calm like light off of a mirror, Now he'd aged and the boyishness was gone from his face.
"Her name is Amy," he said abruptly. "She's quiet, a little shy. I guess it took me a year of chance meetings in the hallways before she'd do more than smile at me when I spoke. Then it took me another year to get her into bed-- He stopped and glanced at her, his mouth going grim. "Forget I said that. I don't usually kiss and tell."
"It's forgotten," Sallie assured him. "Did you ask her to marry you?"
"Not at first. I've never wanted to be married, Sal, I'm a lone wolf, like you." He shook his head as if he didn't understand himself. "It kind of sneaked up on me, the idea of getting married. So finally I asked her and she cried. She said she loved me but that she couldn't take my job, and she'd marry me if I changed jobs. Hell, I love my job! Mexican standoff."
"And she cut her losses," Sallie murmured.
"She also hedged her bets." He gave her a wry, self-mocking smile. "She had another game going with a nine-to-five guy. She told me tonight that they're getting married later this year."
"Is she bluffing?"
Chris shook his head. "I don't think so. She's wearing a diamond."
After sitting quietly for a moment Sallie said frankly, "You've got a choice, you know. You can have Amy or you can have your job, but you can't have both. Decide which one's the most important to you and forget about the other."
"Did you forget about Your guy when you chose your job over him?" challenged Chris.
"You've got it wrong. I was in Amy's shoes, not
yours. He chose his job over me," said Sallie. "I've never forgotten him, but I've done very well without him, thank you."
It wasn't until Chris spoke that she realized how much infon-nation she'd given him with her stray comments; or perhaps it was just that Chris was intuitive, sensing her moods and thoughts without any concrete evidence. After looking at her thoughtfully for a moment he murmured, "It's Baines, isn't it?
He's the one who walked out on you."
Her stunned expression had to tell him the answer, but after a minute she gathered herself enough to admit, "He's the one. And let me tell you, when Rhy Baines walks, he walks hard!"
"He's a fool," Chris said mildly. "But he wants you back, doesn't he?"
"Not permanently," Sallie replied with a touch of bitterness. "He just wants to play for a while." Chris looked at her for a long time, his brown eyes moving over her small face, shuttered now to keep from revealing any more of her inner pain. When it became evident that she had nothing more to say he leaned forward and gently kissed her, but this time he was offering comfort instead of taking it. Sallie closed her eyes and let the kiss linger, neither responding nor rejecting but letting time expand as his Mouth moved lightly over hers. She'd never been kissed like that before, without passion, as a friend.
The strident demand of the telephone caused Chris to remove his mouth and with a mun-nured "Excuse me" Sallie stretched to reach the yellow receiver. When she answered she felt a tingle of alarm when a husky voice demanded, "Have you finished packing?"
"Of course," she said crisply, feeling insulted that he felt he had to check up on her. What did he think she'd do, wait until the last minute to throw everything together? Because of that, and also because of a certain streak of feminine perversity, she added, "I was just talking to Chris."
She could feel the thickness of the silence on the line; then the growing crackle of Rhy's anger leapt out at her. "Is he there?" he finally bit out, the words almost exploding from his lips. Sallie had a mental picture of him, his teeth bared in a snarl, his cheekbones taut and savage with his rage. The gray eyes would be flinty, with red sparks snapping in them. The tingle of alarm inside her changed to one almost of pleasure.
"Of course he's here," she responded, knowing that she was flirting with danger. What would she do if Rhy's temper roared out of control? The last thing she wanted to do was cause any trouble for Chris, but somehow Rhy goaded her past responsible actions. "I don't give up my friends just because you snap your fingers," she heard herself adding.
His voice was a low growl, almost too low to hear. "When I snap my something it won't be my fingers.
Get rid of him, Sallie, and do it now."
Immediately she bristled. "I will not--
"Now," he whispered. "Or I'm coming over. I'm not playing, baby. Get rid of him. Then come back and tell me you've done it."
Furiously she tossed the receiver onto the table and got to her feet. Without a word, not wanting Rhy to hear anything she said to Chris, she held out her hand to him, and with a puzzled look he took it, rising lightly to his feet. Sallie led him to the door, then stretched on tiptoe and kissed him gently. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "He's ordered me to get rid of you or he's going to come over here and get violent."
For a moment Chris looked like his old self, one eyebrow rising in mild mockery. "This sounds serious. Sallie, old girl, I think you've left a lot out of your story."
"I have, but there's no use in raking over old ashes. Will you be all right?', she asked, concern evident in her voice and eyes, and he quickly hugged her.
"Of course I will. Just telling you helped. Kissing you helped even more." He gave a crooked grin.
"She knocked me for a loop, but I'm not giving up. She cried when she told me she's marrying this other guy, so it's not hopeless, is it?"
Sallie grinned back. "Doesn't sound hopeless to me."
He flicked her cheek with one finger. "Have a good time in Sakarya," he teased, and she stuck her tongue out at him. After he'd gone she carefully locked the door and returned to glare balefully at the telephone receiver lying there waiting for her. She was tempted to let him wait a few more minutes, but it was like a dose of bitter medicine: soonest done, soonest over with.
With that thought she snatched it up and nearly snarled, "Well, he's gone!"
"What took you so long?" he barked -An demand. "I was kissing him goodbye!" she retorted furiously.
"And now I'm telling you goodbye!"
"Don't hang up," came the soft warning. "I'm going to give Meaker just enough time to get home, then I'm going to call and make sure he's there. For your sake, you'd better pray that he goes straight home."
"Your bully act is getting boring," she snapped, and slammed the phone down, then unplugged it.
Marching into her bedroom she unplugged that phone too, but not before it began finging. Muttering furiously to herself about what she'd like to do to RhY Baines, she stomped around the apartment turning off lights, then flung herself on the bed and once again tried to go to sleep. If it had been difficult before it was impossible now. She was burning with righteous indignation, and she wondered how anyone could be such a hypocrite. It was perfectly all right for him to blatantly carry on his affair with Coral right in front of her, but he had no intention of allowing her the same freedom. Not that she wanted to have an affair with Chris any more than he wanted one with her, but that was beside the point.
Then her thoughts turned to the trip to Sakarya. After tonight Rhy would be his most demanding, his most seductive, and to her dismay she recalled that in the past he'd had no difficulty at all in getting her to bed. She'd been lucky that, since he'd discovered her identity, the only times he'd kissed her they had been in his office where there had been scant opportunity for a seduction scene; she had her doubts that she'd have been so successful in stopping him otherwise. She was too honest to delude herself even when the truth was painful. She loved Rhy, but even if she didn't she'd still want him physically. Only her pride and her deep-rooted fear of being hurt again kept her from giving in to him.
It was after midnight before she finally drifted into sleep and the flight to Paris, the first leg of the trip to Sakarya, was an early one. She was pale with weariness before she even left her apartment to meet Rhy at the air terminal. She was detennined to be as businesslike as possible, both to keep him at a distance and to show him that he hadn't upset her with his jealous rage of the night before, but right from the start her attitude was difficult to maintain. When he saw her Walking toward him Rhy got to his feet and came to meet her, taking her larger tote bag from her arm and bending down to press a brief warm kiss on her lips. "Good morning," he murmured, letting his dark gray eyes drift down over her body. "I like you in a dress. You should wear one more often."
So he was going to ignore last night, was he? Though she'd intended to do the same thing she felt a flare of irritation that he'd beaten her to the punch. Then she shrugged mentally and gave him a cool glance. "I thought the Sakaryans would prefer dresses over pants." She usually wore pants while traveling both for comfort and convenience, but considering the nature of the assignment she'd packed only dresses. For the flight she'd chosen a lightweight beige dress, sleeveless, with a low-scooped neckline, but the dress also had a matching long-sleeved jacket, and she was wearing it now, for despite the heat of summer in New York City she often felt cool in the early mornings, and she'd learned from experience that the temperature-controlled jetliners were too cool for her. She had also changed her hair from the informal braid to a neat coil on the back of her head. There wasn't a lot she could do with her hair, because of its length, but for more formal gatherings she always put it up.