The Phoenix Encounter (9 page)

Damn it, he hadn't wanted this to happen. He didn't want to be in this position. So he stood there, feeling helpless and lousy because he couldn't reassure her, because he didn't trust himself to touch her, because he wanted her and knew it was wrong.

“Lily…”

She cut him off by holding up a trembling hand. “Just give me a minute.” But she didn't stop crying. She didn't raise her head. And she didn't look at him. She just stood there and silently cried. A silence that was as loud as any keening.

When he couldn't stand it anymore, Robert reached for her. “Come here,” he said.

“I'm okay.”

“Yeah, I can tell by the way you're shaking.” Putting his arm gently around her shoulders, he pulled her against him.

She stiffened, then raised shimmering hazel eyes to his. “You don't have to do this.”

“Yes, I do,” he said and put his arms around her.

She felt incredibly small cocooned within his arms. The sensation of her against him shocked him with pleasure, and he couldn't help but marvel at how perfect the fit was. He could feel the tremors rising inside her, but she didn't make a sound. He held her and tried not to think about how it was affecting him. But her scent rose to titillate him. The essence of clean hair and mountain air and woman. He rested his head against hers and breathed in deeply, felt an uncomfortable stir deep in his gut that didn't have a damn thing to do with physical sensation.

Robert knew he was playing with fire. He knew he should let her go and take a long, cold shower. But the feel of her against him overpowered logic.

“Tell me he's going to be all right,” she whispered.

Closing his eyes, Robert caressed the back of her head. “We're going to do everything we can, okay?”

A sigh shuddered out of her. A sound so filled with soul-wrenching emotion that he tightened his arms around her and wished fervently that he could take away her worry. He ran his hands over her shoulders and down her back, telling himself it was a gesture of comfort. But he was all too aware of her body pressed against his. Her scent filling his lungs. The knowledge of the physical ecstasy they'd once shared. She wasn't wearing a bra, and he could feel the soft brush of her breasts against his chest. His body stirred in response, the hot rush of blood to his groin making his sex heavy and uncomfortable. He started to shift away, but for the first time he realized her arms were around him, too.

“Just…hold me for a moment,” she said.

He didn't move away, but he didn't get any closer, either. The short span from his hips to hers was hellish for him, but he couldn't close the distance without making his state of arousal evident. She was upset and had a sick child to deal with, for God's sake. As far as he knew she had someone else in her life. What kind of man was he—what kind of
doctor
—wanting her when she was at her most vulnerable?

“You're going to be all right,” he said after a moment.

Pulling away slightly, she looked at him with ravaged eyes. “Tell me Jack's going to be all right,” she said fiercely.

Robert knew better than to make false promises. But there was no way he could look into her luminous eyes and let her hurt. “He's going to be all right.”

Her face was only a few short inches from his. So close he could see the wet streaks of tears on her cheeks. The thrum of her pulse at her throat. The uncertainty in her eyes. She looked frightened and vulnerable and incredibly beautiful at once. He was keenly aware of her arms around him.
She moved against him, and every nerve in his body zinged with pleasure. If she could feel his arousal against her, she made no indication, made no move to pull away. Robert wasn't sure if that was good or bad, just very, very dangerous.

A cry from the rear bedroom jolted him. As if suddenly realizing the precariousness of the situation, Lily blinked at him and loosened her arms. “I…need to check on Jack.”

Robert released her and stepped back, but he felt her departure like a piece of his own flesh being ripped away. For an interminable moment, neither of them moved. Electricity snapped in the small space between them. He felt the tingle with a thousand nerve endings, felt the pull of her, like the undertow of a powerful river threatening to pull him into murky depths and drown him.

Without a word, she turned and fled the room.

Robert stood staring after her for a long time, trying hard to ignore the rapid-fire beat of his heart and the slow ache of sexual frustration in his groin. Cursing under his breath, he turned to the palm computer lying on the cot. He stared at the screen unseeing for a moment while his body and his brain reconciled what had just happened. He knew he was treading on thin ice. Lily Scott was the last woman in the world he should be having sexual feelings for. For God's sake, she'd had a child with another man. She'd let him believe she was dead for twenty-one months. But Robert could no longer deny that something powerful lingered between them. The only question that remained was whether either of them were crazy enough to do anything about it.

The computer beeped. Robert glanced at the tiny screen to see the incoming communication light flicker. He pulled out the satellite phone, quickly set up the dish antenna, hit several keys and the liquid crystal display screen glowed. He waited impatiently for the satellite signal to go through. When the green light flickered, he slipped the tiny microphone into his ear and listened to the grid coordinates beep.
He typed in his identification number and password, then waited for voice recognition.

Hatch's image appeared on the screen.

“What have you got?” Robert asked, surprised by the level of tension in his voice.

If Hatch noticed he made no indication. “One of the technicians called a few minutes ago with some prelim results. He wants me to patch you through.”

“Roger that.”

“Everything else okay?”

“Fine.”

The lights blinked with a flash of lightning, then the room went dark. “Damn it,” Robert muttered.

“I'm hoping that's a storm that just took out your lights and not DeBruzkya's fireworks,” Hatch said.

“It's the storm.”

“Okay, then. Patching you through.”

Robert stared hard at the other man's image and felt the hairs at his nape prickle. It wasn't like Hatch not to ask him about the mission. Not to ask him why the hell he was running blood tests on a child when he should be interrogating his contact about DeBruzkya. Robert hadn't done squat, and yet Hatch hadn't even asked for an update. What the hell was going on?

Robert started to speak, but the click of the transfer cut him off. He waited impatiently through a series of clicks as he was patched through to the ARIES biomedical research facility. An instant later a male voice came over the line. “Dr. Davidson?”

“What have you got?”

A man with red hair and freckles wearing a white lab coat materialized on the screen. “We got some of the preliminary test results back on the blood sample image.”

Robert pulled up a blank screen with which to type in notes. “Go,” he said impatiently.

“It shows that this child has a very serious blood disease.”

Robert's hands froze on the keyboard, a terrible uneasiness crawling along the back of his neck. “What disease?”

“Juvenile onset hereditary hemoedema.”

The words hit him like a punch. Shocking and brutal and damningly familiar. Robert stared at the man's image on the screen, aware that his heart was pounding, that his brain was trying desperately not to jump to conclusions—and failing miserably. “Are you sure?” he heard himself say.

“There's no mistake.” The other man paused. “With hereditary hemoedema the blood lacks a certain protein—”

“I know what it is,” he growled.

“If the child is showing symptoms, then you know the long-term prognosis is much improved if he gets a bone marrow transplant from a matching donor.”

Matching donor.

He closed his eyes.

“Dr. Davidson?”

Robert disconnected and stood staring at the blank screen, his thoughts running a hundred miles an hour. He knew all about hereditary hemoedema. Hell, he was an
expert
on the disease. He'd inherited it from his father and had been dealing with it since he was fourteen years old. And he knew it could only mean one thing when it came to that innocent child sleeping in the bedroom down the hall.

“Hell.” His voice sounded strange in the utter silence of the room. His chest felt tight, and for a moment, he couldn't take a breath.

He thought about Jack. A little boy with hereditary juvenile onset hemoedema. A little boy with
his
eyes.
His
genes.
His
disease.

God in heaven. Jack was
his
son.

The reality of the situation shattered him. Why hadn't he realized this before? The truth had been right under his nose. How could he have been so blind?

Knowing there was only one way to find out, Robert started for Lily's bedroom.

L
ily carried the cup of tea from the kitchen toward her bedroom, where Jack was sleeping. The hall was pitch-black. But she'd long since grown used to the blackouts. The darkness didn't bother her. She felt as if she'd been living in darkness for a very long time.

She was midway down the hall when a flash of lightning illuminated Robert's silhouette standing in the doorway of her room. The sight of him startled her. She stopped, felt the kick of adrenaline in her blood. In the instant his face had been illuminated, she'd seen something in his eyes. Something dangerous and primal and as unpredictable as the storm.

Her heart rolled into a hard staccato. Another flash of lightning revealed that Robert was moving toward her at a determined clip, his gaze hard, his jaw taut. She knew it was ridiculous, but for the first time in her life she was afraid of him. She felt the fear crawling inside her. Adrenaline burned in her muscles like acid. The urge to flee was
strong, but his stare held her suspended, like an insect in amber.

She stepped back. It unnerved her that she couldn't see him. Something had changed in the minutes since they'd talked. She was sure of it. She could feel the volatile zing of his thoughts in the air between them.

She heard herself utter his name, but her voice came out as little more than a whisper. She couldn't see him, but she heard the steady progression of his footfalls. She could feel him getting closer, the raw energy pouring off him in electric waves.

Her back encountered the wall, and she realized belatedly she'd taken several steps back. Her brain raced for explanations for his silent approach, but none of them fit. Lightning flashed outside her bedroom window. He'd stopped several feet away from her and stood there, unmoving, as if he were made of stone.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

For a moment the only sound came from the wind tearing around the cottage. Thunder crashed, and she jumped. A strobe of lightning illuminated his face. And in the depths of his eyes she saw…devastation. She saw the fury of a man who'd been betrayed. A man who'd been lied to. A man she'd hurt terribly.

A man who knew the truth.

“How old is he,” he snarled.

“I—I told you. N-nine months.”

“You're lying, damn it.”

“No.”

“He's mine.”

His words vibrated through her brain like the chiseled point of a jackhammer. They pounded her until she couldn't think, couldn't breathe. The cup of tea slipped from her hand. It hit the floor and shattered. Hot tea spewed onto her bare ankles, but she barely felt the scald. Vaguely, she thought of the glass and made a mental note to clean it as soon as possible.

“He's a year old, isn't he, Lily?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You kept him from me.”

“Robert—”

“I want to know why, damn it. And I want to know
right now!
”

But the only information her brain seemed capable of processing was that he'd discovered her secret. The one secret she'd sworn to keep no matter what the cost to her.

“It's n-not what you think,” she managed after a moment.

“You don't know what I think.”

She struggled to calm her racing mind. “H-how did you know?”

“The blood test.” His jaw flexed. “But it should have been obvious from the beginning. You must think I'm a pretty big fool.”

“That's not the way it was.”

“You took something precious from me.” He started toward her.

She raised her hands as if to fend him off, but knew they wouldn't stop him. “Please, Robert. Just…calm down.”

“I want an explanation,” he snarled.

“I—I tried to contact you.”

“You didn't try very hard.” He stopped scant inches from her. So close she could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. She heard a heartbeat, but for the life of her she couldn't tell if it was hers or his. But it was beating so fast she felt certain it would explode. Or maybe they'd both just go up in flames.

“You lied to me,” he said, slamming his open hand against the wall next to her with the last word.

A jab of real fear sent her back hard against the wall. The urge to run was strong, but Lily had never been a coward. She had to face this. Had to face him. Had to face what she'd done. “I'm sorry,” she said.

“That's not good enough,” he said between clenched teeth.

Lily stared at him, aware of her breath rushing raggedly from her throat. “Please, don't. Not like this.”

“Don't do what? Ask for the truth?”

She felt trapped, like a rabbit in the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle. “You won't like it.”

“Maybe I like being lied to even less. Did that ever cross your mind?” Leaning dangerously close to her, he put his hands on the wall on either side of her. “Why did you keep my son from me? Why didn't you tell me you were alive?”

“I couldn't,” she choked.

“Do you have any idea what it did to me thinking you were dead?”

“I'm sorry.”

“Sorry won't cut it, damn it!”

“Robert—”

“You ripped my heart out, Lily. You knew what losing you would do to me, but you did it anyway, didn't you?” He ground his teeth with the last word. “Damn you.”

She'd never seen him so angry, so cold, so utterly merciless. All the things that had happened in the last twenty-one months jumbled in her brain. Her being injured. Jack's birth. Her dangerous meetings with DeBruzkya. She wanted to answer him. Robert was a rational man. Surely he would understand why she hadn't wanted to put him at risk.

But he was so close, she couldn't think. Her mind couldn't form a single coherent thought. She gasped with a sudden thunderclap. Robert's hands went to either side of her face, and every nerve in her body jumped. His palms were cool and slightly rough against her cheeks. He wasn't exceptionally tall, barely six feet, but he seemed to tower over her, and she had to crane her neck to maintain eye contact.

“I want to know why you lied to me,” he said.

Lily tried to slide to one side. She had to get away from him, from the questions. From the truth she didn't want to
face. But he trapped her with his body. “You owe me the truth,” he said.

“I can't,” she whispered.

He leaned into her with the full weight of his body. The contact shocked her. She could feel the hard ridge of him against her belly, shocking her senses and kindling a flame that had burned tiny and hot for almost two years. “I don't want this.”

“That's not what your eyes are telling me.”

“Stop before this goes too far.”

“Too late,” he said, and lowered his mouth to hers.

The kiss struck her as if a lightning bolt had stabbed down through the roof and run the length of her body. She felt herself go rigid. Long denied needs coiled and snapped inside her like lit fuses doused with gunpowder. She tried desperately to deny the desire her intellect had struggled so hard to forget. But the truth of the moment seared her, and she was lost. To reason. To sanity.

But her body remembered. Every hard plane. Every solid ridge of muscle. Every brush of hard against soft. She remembered the heady jitter of nerves at his touch. The promise of more. The anticipation of knowing she would get it.

All the while his mouth worked black magic on hers. A combination of gentle and fierce that made her legs weak and beckoned her to make a mistake. Lily felt herself begin to unravel, like yarn ripped from a spool to tangle and shred. Her senses flickered. Common sense fluttered away. Vaguely she was aware of her arms going around his shoulders. His name on her lips. The truth bursting in her heart.

Making a sound low in his throat, he slipped his tongue between her lips. The sudden taste of him shocked her with pleasure. She opened to him, delving into the warm silkiness of his mouth with her tongue. He murmured something in her ear, but she couldn't make out the words over the pounding of blood in her veins. She'd forgotten what it was like to be kissed like this. To be swept away and lost in a
man's arms. In Robert's arms. The rightness of it fractured her control.

She arched against him, her hands skimming over his shoulders where rock hard muscles bunched and trembled with restrained power. His hands swept down her back, pausing at her hips and holding her in place while he moved against her. The flood of arousal mingled with urgency and coursed hotly through her, a lava flow barreling down a mountain to devour everything in its path.

And not even the knowledge that she was making a mistake could stop her. She kissed him with wild abandon, poured endless months of heartbreak and loneliness into it. She let herself feel all the things she had refused to feel, refused to remember, all the things she had denied for what seemed like eternity.

She shuddered when his hands brushed over her breasts. She'd forgotten how powerful desire could be. How he could make her breasts ache for his touch. She arced, giving him full access. His hands possessed her, molding her flesh. She cried out when he brushed his fingertips over her sensitized nipples, but he swallowed the sound with another kiss. She writhed in his arms, wild for his touch, frantic to ease the fire burning within her.

He made love to her mouth, drugging her and making her forget about all the reasons they shouldn't be doing this. He kissed her neck, her collarbone, the point of her shoulder. She smothered a cry when he raised her sweater and took her nipple into his mouth. She felt herself go wet between her legs. Her vision blurred when he began to suckle. She cupped the back of his head, guiding him, wanting him closer, wanting him inside her. She could feel the pounding of blood in her womb, tiny waves moving through her. Reaching down, she ran her fingers along the length of his arousal. A steel rod trapped within his jeans. Her hand went to his zipper, but he grasped her wrist and stopped her.

For an instant confusion swirled, then she felt him work
ing the snap of her jeans. Lowering the zipper. She burned and ached and felt if he didn't touch her soon she would die with wanting. The world tilted beneath her feel when his hands met the crisp curls at her V. Whispering his name, Lily opened to him. Shifting closer, he separated her folds and dipped two fingers inside her.

The intimacy of the contact shattered her. White light exploded behind her lids, as violent and shocking as the lightning and thunder outside. She cried out his name when he began to stroke her. Deeply, knowing exactly where to touch, how much pressure to use, when to tease, when to satisfy. A minute part of her brain knew she should stop this before things got out of control. But the rest of her knew things had already passed that point, and she could do nothing but hang on for the ride.

The waves built inside her, a relentless tide spilling onto a jagged shore. She rode the peaks, letting their power tumble her end over end until she didn't know up from down. All the while he stroked her, deeply and firmly, driving her to a fever pitch, up and over the edge into a freefall.

She didn't want the moment to end. The preciousness of it clenched her heart. She closed her eyes against the flood of emotion. Physical and emotional sensation melded into a single profound ache and shimmered inside her, like a diamond melting beneath a thousand suns. Tears burned behind her lids, yet her body sang with a joy that couldn't be contained. She heard his name on her lips. A name she'd whispered a thousand times in the last months as she'd cried in the dark and denied what she knew to be true.

He captured her mouth, and she drank in the essence of him like a woman dying of thirst. She heard a sound, and only then did she realized a sob had escaped her.

Robert pulled back, his expression concerned. “I…didn't mean to hurt you.”

Embarrassed that her emotions had spiraled out of control, Lily started to turn away, but he stopped her by touching her face gently.

“I didn't mean to make you cry.” Shifting slightly, he brushed the damp hair from her face, then caught a tear with the pad of his thumb. “Lily.”

“It's okay,” she said, feeling awkward and silly and completely overwhelmed by what had just happened. “I'm just…that was…too much for me to handle.”

“I'm sorry.”

“No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have let that happen.”

“I didn't give you much choice.”

“I didn't exactly say no.”

Robert looked away. Lily's cheeks burned with the memory of everything they'd done and the wanton way she'd reacted to his kiss. She wasn't a prude, but she didn't give up control easily. Robert was the only person she'd ever met who could do that to her. He'd always possessed the unique ability to destroy her inhibitions and make her lose control. Not only physically, but emotionally. She supposed that's why things had always been so intense between them. There was no middle ground when it came to her and Robert. It was all or nothing. Win or lose. Heaven or hell.

And now he knew her secret.

The thought sent a spear of panic skidding up her spine. Oh, what had she been
thinking
letting things get out of hand like that? She hadn't been thinking at all. That was the problem. That had always been the problem with Robert. One touch, and her intellect crumpled and turned to dust.

Lily didn't know what to do. He'd just proven to her that she was vulnerable to him. Far more vulnerable than she'd ever imagined. If she wasn't careful, he would lure her into making another mistake. A mistake that could end up costing both of them far more than their hearts.

 

Robert stared hard at her, keenly aware that he was still fully aroused and dangerously furious. He could still feel the wetness from her on his fingers, the hot pulse of blood in his groin. He didn't understand how she could have done
this to him. How she could have done this to them. To that innocent child sleeping down the hall.