Storm Front (Reunited Hearts) (18 page)

With
her lush shape pressed firmly against him, Michael’s head spun and his body
came alive. He moaned deep in his throat at the sound of her hum of pleasure.

Then
suddenly Allison jerked away. She stumbled a few steps back and blinked up at
him, her face flushed and her eyes disoriented.

Gasping
and jarred painfully from his passionate momentum, Michael tried to shake
himself back to sense.

“Sorry.
But we shouldn’t—I’m here for the story,” Allison said, her words rather stilted
as she visibly tried to catch her breath.

Michael
opened his mouth to object.

But
Allison mumbled, “Sorry,” again and then turned to hurry back toward the car
and driver waiting for them.

Michael
didn’t move. He was still half-drowning in the interrupted kiss, and he wasn’t
in a fit state to chase her down. He stared out at the lighthouse, willing his
body and mind back under control.

After
a minute, he turned to look back at Allison’s retreating figure.

He
felt like he had when he’d woken up a week ago to find himself alone in bed
after an intense night of lovemaking, after holding her in his arms as they
slept. Like something had been wrenched away from him, something he’d almost
possessed.

Michael
watched Allison walk back to the car, his eyes lingering on her proud, straight
back, her curved hips, her shiny hair.

He
wanted her.
Wanted
her.

And
there was no sense in denying it anymore.

*
* *

“Would you like some
coffee, miss?”

Allison
wasn’t about to say no to that offer after being out in the brisk wind all
afternoon, so she said, “Yes, thank you,” to the gray-haired,
comfortable-looking woman who was evidently acting as housekeeper of Michael’s
Virginia beach house. After going to see the lighthouse and then talking to
officials of many varieties, Allison and Michael had been driven down to his
beach house for dinner before they flew back to D.C.

Allison
had been doing her best to hide her nerves and confusion all day—especially
since the kiss just before noon—but she wasn’t sure she’d done a very good job.
She was afraid she’d been rather cool and standoffish, which wasn’t at all what
she wanted.

She
just wanted things to be normal and relaxed between her and Michael, and she
wasn’t sure it was possible.

It
had been crazy to come here at all. She and Michael had never really been
friends, but they weren’t merely professional acquaintances either. She didn’t
know what they were to each other, but it was too tense and complicated for
their interaction to be natural.

She
kept reminding herself about the way he’d treated her after he discovered she
was a reporter. The way he’d forgotten her existence after she’d given him her
virginity. It didn’t matter that he seemed a little on edge too, that he kept
slanting her covert looks of an almost hopeful scrutiny.

She’d
fallen for that before, and she’d been crushed. There had to be a limit to the
way she let herself be emotionally trampled on.

Michael
lived his life from behind his emotional defenses, and he wasn’t going to lower
them for her.

She
accepted the coffee gratefully from the woman who introduced herself as Nora.
They were in the kitchen of Michael’s plush beach house, and Allison liked the
homey feel of it with flowers on the butcher block table and a bowl of fresh
fruit on the counter. Michael had gone back to the study to make some calls,
saying he’d be out in fifteen or twenty minutes.

Allison
had told him to take his time. Frankly, she was relieved for a little time to
let out her breath and relax.

“He
works too hard,” Nora said, as she bustled around the kitchen preparing a
dinner of what appeared to be scallops, rice, and vegetables.

“I’m
sure he does. He’s always been driven.”

Nora
gave her an inquisitive look that made Allison feel ridiculously shy. She
realized she’d sounded more intimate than she had any right to be regarding Michael.

“I
always tell him to slow down, but he won’t. His demons drive him hard.”

Her
curiosity triggered, Allison asked, “How long have you worked for him?”

“Going
on six years now. I live in town, you know—just a few miles away. Just come out
whenever he’s in residence. He’s a good man to work for. I have no complaints.”

“That’s
good.” Allison had never imagined any differently, but she was oddly touched by
Nora’s vote of confidence in her guarded, unknowable employer. “This is a
lovely house. You do a great job taking care of it.”

“Thank
you.” Nora was polite, but she wordlessly shrugged away the praise. “He needs a
wife. A good one.”

Allison
blinked, startled by the abrupt change in subject. “Excuse me?”

“You
heard me, miss. I’m wondering if you’re up to the job.” Nora wasn’t smiling or
frowning or making any sort of obvious expression. Her words and manner were as
matter-of-fact as if she’d been sharing a recipe.

“No!”
Allison exclaimed, flushing and tightening her hands around her coffee mug.
“That’s not what’s going on. I mean, we’re not together. Michael and I. I’m
here on a story. That’s all. He’s not…I’m not…We hardly know each other. And
it’s complicated. Plus, he’s not the kind of man to fall in love at the drop of
a hat.”

She
cringed with mortification at the stammering mess she’d made of what should
have been a simple clarification.

Nora’s
sharp brown eyes pinned her for a moment before the older woman shrugged. “Of
course, he is. Only, he always picks the wrong girls, so he’s learned not to
trust himself. Or anyone else, for that matter.”

Allison
thought about the words for a minute and then decided they were probably true.
“Maybe. But there’s nothing…” She shook her head, trying to shake the confusion
away.

Nora
worked in silence on the scallops, and Allison was afraid maybe she’d offended
the woman. Before she could backtrack or clear the air, Nora started chatting
amiably again. “I knew it was no good when he brought that doe-eyed thing here,
but he’s constantly rushing headlong into trouble.”

Allison
swallowed hard, torn between wanting to end the subject and wanting to find out
more about it. “When he was engaged to Gina, you mean?”

“That’s
the one. He’d known her when he was young, I suppose. And then she reappeared
in his life as if by magic. His driver rear-ended her car. Did you know that?”

“No,
I didn’t. I wondered how they hooked up again.”

“She
got rear-ended, and as quick as a wink, they were dating hot and heavy. Then he
gave her a ring. She’s a pretty thing, and she knows how to wrap men around her
little finger. And he can be a fool—as much as any other man.”

Allison
made a face. She didn’t like the idea of Michael being a fool over Gina. She
didn’t like the idea of his having deep feelings for her. She didn't like the
thought of their being "hot and heavy." She didn’t like that they’d
been together at all.

And
she definitely didn’t like that Gina had hurt Michael so much.

“Oh,
he didn’t love her,” Nora continued, skillfully chopping vegetables for a salad.
“Thought he did, I suppose. But it wasn’t what I’d call real. But he was
committed. He’d have done anything for her.”

Allison
knew she shouldn’t be prying into Michael’s privacy but she had to know more.
“So what happened?”

“The
rear-ending was fake.”

Allison
gasped. “What?”

“It
was staged. The doe-eyed thing had planned out the whole incident. I suppose
she decided she wanted a rich husband, so she did what she had to do to make it
happen.”

Her
hand covering her mouth, Allison momentarily thought she was strangling. “I
can’t believe it! That bitch!”

Nora
actually chuckled, evidently not shocked by Allison’s choice in language. “I
don’t disagree. He found out. He might be a fool in love, but he’ll always been
a little paranoid. So he ended it when he found out he’d been duped.”

“Poor
Michael,” Allison breathed to herself, feeling her heart torn at the way he
must have felt at the discovery of being deceived and used that way.

No
wonder he’d been so furious with her when he found out she was a reporter. No
wonder he’d acted like she’d betrayed him.

“He
was mostly humiliated. Not heart-broken. I’d say he’s over it now, no question.
Just one more wall around his heart.”

Allison
let out a hoarse sigh, trying to resign herself to a reality she’d always known.
“I doubt he’ll ever let himself love now—after all the ways he’s been hurt.”

Shooting
her another sharp look, Nora asked, “You think so? Not me. You have to get past
all the outside-stuff—the money and power and reputation. But I say he’s really
an old-fashioned man at heart.”

Allison
actually snorted.

“You
don’t think so? Sure, he’s ambitious and brilliant and complicated. But what do
you think he really wants the most, when it comes right down to it?”

Allison
knew the answer, understood the truth in Nora’s words. “He wants to be loved,”
she said shakily. “He wants to love and be loved.”

“Yep,”
Nora nodded, as if they weren’t talking about the intimate secrets of a man’s
soul. “And he’s nearly convinced himself it’s impossible.”

Overwhelmed
with a rush of aching emotion, Allison stood up and left the kitchen quickly.
She went outside and stood on the deck, looking out at the waves crash on the
beach.

Why
had Michael brought her here? She couldn’t believe it was just about the story.
Could he really be considering her as more than a casual bed-partner and a face
from his past?

He
didn’t trust her, though. She understood why, after the way he’d been duped by Gina.
She hoped he was starting to see past the one lie she’d told, but she couldn’t
believe he’d dropped all of his instinctive distrust.

But
he’d brought her here. Surely, if he’d been afraid she was going to write some
sort of muck-raking exposé on him, he wouldn’t have brought her to his home. It
would give her an enormous amount of ammunition to use against him in a story.

Unless…

“Allison.”
Michael’s voice came from behind her, and it made her heart clench in a way she
couldn’t ignore.

She
turned around, and something inside her melted at the slightly self-conscious
look on his face as he stood in front of her in his casual clothes, with a
coffee mug in his hand.

“Nora
said dinner is almost ready.” He was watching her carefully, scanning her face
as if he was trying to dig into her heart.

And
that triggered the random, incomplete thought she’d had just a moment ago.

She
sucked in a sharp breath and asked him without warning, “Why am I here, Michael?"

He'd
brought her here, even though she might use private information against him in
a story, and she might have just figured out why.

The
idea hurt her, even as it rang profoundly true—speaking to everything she’d
ever known about Michael Martin. So she asked the question bluntly. “Is this
some sort of test?”

When Michael’s face
twisted slightly, in a guilty expression he almost never revealed anymore, Allison
knew what his answer was.

“Allison,”
he began, his voice slightly hoarse. He stepped forward, as if he would reach
out to touch her or keep her from reacting badly.

She
gave her head a jerky shake. “No. It’s fine. Just tell me the truth. Did you
bring me here as some sort of test? Are you trying to find out if I’m searching
for a juicy story on you?”

He
cleared his throat. “Not like that. It’s not a covert, conscious plot to test
you. It’s not like that.”

She
believed him—mostly because his expression was so awkward it was pained. Her
voice was calm as she said, “So tell me what it’s like.”

He
didn’t say anything. He just stared at her so intensely she was afraid he could
read her thoughts, which were so confused she wasn’t even sure
she
could
read them.

“Michael?”
she prompted. “Do you really think I’m going to dig up your secrets and plaster
them all over the web?”

“No.
I don’t. Not anymore. I did think that. You know my experiences with
journalists aren’t…aren’t good, but I’m starting to think that you’re
different.”

Her
lip curled slightly. “Or maybe that your universal generalizations about
journalists are unfairly skewed in a negative direction?”

Michael’s
mouth actually tightened in amusement. “Maybe. I’m not prepared to acknowledge
that without question, but it’s possible. And I’m having trouble believing
you’re plotting against me the way I thought, the way…”

When
he trailed off, Allison thought she understood why. “The way Gina did,” she
murmured, glancing down, still infuriated by the idea of Gina’s self-seeking
manipulation.