Deadlock

SEVENTEEN

PAULEY WAS COMING OUT OF the farmhouse when they reached it. "Are you being chased? Should I come to your rescue?"

Emily skidded to a stop and tried to get her breath. "No. Just a lit¬tle morning constitutional."

"What a disappointment." He smiled. "I'm really getting into this James Bond stuff. Though Garrett said that he'd strangle me if I didn't quit making cracks." He looked at Irana. "I'll introduce myself, since Emily is having trouble with breath control. I'm Mark Pauley, computer genius extraordinary and part-time lookout man. Not so ex¬traordinary."

"Irana Povak." She shook her head. "And I'm not extraordinary at all. But I'm a very good doctor."

"They must think you're extraordinary. Garrett paid me a fortune to find you." He studied her and slowly nodded. "You know, I think they may be right."

"Have you loaded the suitcases in the car, Pauley?" Garrett had come out of the house.

"Yes, I was just coming back in to tell you when I stopped to see if I was needed to rescue Emily." He gazed at Garrett accusingly. "You didn't let me go along last night. You just used my brilliant brain and expertise and sent me off to bed. That wasn't fair, Garrett."

"Fair? Good God, have I created a monster?"

"It serves you right. I didn't want to go with you to Babin's house. But I didn't realize what a rush it could be taking a risk like that. I have a curious nature. I want to explore it again."

Garrett sighed. "It's not a computer game, Pauley."

"No, it's different, but it may be more fun." He nodded. "Now I think I'll go inside and get Dardon stirring. He's feeling a little too su¬perior at the moment. I want to tell him not only that I'm a mental gi¬ant, but what a superb help I was to you at Babin's the other night. Better than he could do."

Emily looked after him in surprise. The venture with Garrett had evidently formed a bond between them that had overcome Garrett's annoyance with him. Not only that, but it had opened a door for Pauley she had not expected.

"Dardon may just crush his head," Garrett murmured. "Oh, well, Pauley's got to learn."

"You sound almost paternal," Emily said.

"I'm nobody's father. Not Pauley. Not you." He turned to Irana. "Am I, Irana?"

"You'd make a very good father," Irana said. "It would just take practice and opportunity."

Emily changed the subject. "What did Pauley say about the trans¬lation?"

"He'll do it… reluctantly."

"But it's not as much fun as being James Bond." Emily added, deadpan. "However, I'm sure he agreed after you had a fatherly talk with him."

Garrett gave her a glance. "I'll get you for that." He went on, "Fer¬guson called and gave me a report on the three industrialists who dealt with Babin. I told him the only one we're interested in now is Joslyn." He paused. "He told me that I was barking up the wrong tree."

"Why?"

"Joslyn is an absolutely sterling character. Squeaky-clean. He has a wife and two college-age kids who are also squeaky-clean. His business transactions are aboveboard and fair. He's extremely religious, a pillar of his church. He donates a good portion of his income to the church and to charity. He took a sabbatical two years ago and went to Ethiopia with a mission group for four months. He worked so hard there that his immune system failed, and he became ill with fever. They had to ship him home."

Emily shook her head. "Then Babin didn't tell you the truth. It must be one of the other men."

"Perhaps," Garrett said. "But I don't think so. I worked hard to make sure Babin was very scared indeed. I don't believe he would have lied to me. And I have enough experience to tell the difference if he tried."

"Joslyn seems unlikely," Irana said. "It's one thing to give money to the unfortunate, it's another to actually go and minister to them."

"Or someone very clever," Garrett said. "And willing to go to the final length to keep up his image. I'm going to bank on what Babin told me. If I get shot down, then I'll go down another path."

Shot down. Emily didn't like that phrase. It brought back all the worry and imagery that had plagued her during the last forty-eight hours. Garrett shot. Garrett dead. Staunton hovering over all of them like a hideous gargoyle. "Perhaps he didn't know what Babin was do-ing?

"He's evidently a smart man, or he wouldn't be so successful. He'd be hard to fool unless he deliberately closed his eyes. He was the one who authorized Babin to make the deal with Nicholas Zelov for the book and the amulets." He added, "And the Book of Living led them to the hammer. Or at least the place where the hammer was sup¬posed to be."

"But if he's a very rich man, why would he go after more?"

"Nicholas's escape fund was worth billions, remember? Billions equal power. Some men can never have enough money. Are you ready to leave?"

"As soon as I throw my clothes into my suitcase."

"I've already done that. I thought we'd buy some clothes for Irana somewhere on the road." He glanced at Irana. "You won't change your mind?"

She shook her head, and said quietly, "I'm coming with you all the way, Garrett."

"That's what I was afraid of." He shrugged. "Then I'll go rescue Pauley… or Dardon, and we'll get out of here."

"So we're going to see Joslyn?" Irana asked.

"Not now. I want to try to see if we can get something out of that Book of Living that we can use to make him want to talk to us. And I want to know how Bishop Dimitri figures in this."

Emily frowned. "Joslyn already has the original book. He must al¬ready know everything in it."

"But he may not want us to know what was in it that made him want the book so badly."

"It's over a hundred years old. There's nothing in it that could af¬fect Joslyn now. It has to be the Tsar's treasure drawing him."

"Does it? I never take anything for granted."

"So where are we going?"

"I think we should be close to Joslyn. His factories and main of¬fices are in Ekaterinaburg. We'll find a house or inn near there." "Ekaterinaburg," Irana repeated. He glanced at her. "You know about it?"

She nodded. "I was there years ago. I thought it my duty. I never wanted to go back."

"Why not?" Emily asked. "What's in Ekaterinaburg besides Joslyn's factories?"

"For one thing, the museum where the hammer and the rest of the farm equipment were on exhibit for all those decades," Garrett said. "And it's also the place where Nicholas II and his entire family were massacred."

Her eyes widened. "Dear God."

"Rather a curious coincidence that Joslyn is located there, isn't it?" Garrett asked. "Would it interest you to know that Bishop Dimitri also has his residency and jurisdiction in the same city?"

"Yes."

"That's what I thought," Garrett said as he turned to go back into the house. "And that's another reason why Ferguson may be wrong about Mr. Squeaky-Clean."

THEY REACHED EKATERINABURG just before dark that evening.

Emily didn't know what she had expected, but it wasn't a large, bustling city. It might be totally unreasonable, but it seemed as if there should be a pall hanging over the town.

Irana nodded as she read her expression. "I know what you're feel¬ing. It was the same for me the first time I came here. I'd read what happened, and all I could think of was Nicholas, Alexandra, and their children. Ekaterinaburg is actually the third-largest city in Russia. It came as a shock that the royal family was even brought here. You'd ex¬pect them to be held in some remote spot where there wasn't any po¬tential for them to be rescued."

"Evidently not much potential," Emily said.

"Talk about potential." Garrett pointed at a huge factory with steam pouring out of the smokestacks. "That's Joslyn Plastics."

"It's enormous," Dardon said.

Garrett nodded. "And it would never have reached this level of success without the help of the Russian government. Joslyn's factories are clean, and the workers are treated well. He tries not to damage the environment. The Russians aren't that hot on keeping the environ¬ment green, but they don't mind that Joslyn makes the effort."

Emily leaned back, her gaze on the passing streets of Ekaterinaburg. Her first impression might have been of any large industrial city in the world, but now she could see sights that were pure Russia. Men and women dressed in drab gray and black, an occasional older woman in a babushka, a rare glimpse of a grand church that was almost oriental in splendor amid the practical Soviet-style architecture.

Ten minutes later, Garrett turned into the driveway of a large inn, a neat stone building with evergreens bordering the facade. "Here we are. It's not five-star, but Dardon says the businessmen stay here. That should make it at least tolerable." He parked the car and got out. "Emily, you and Irana go on in and register for all of us. Dardon, Pauley, and I will start unpacking the luggage from the trunk."

"Irana can register. I'll help you." Emily got out of the car. "There don't seem to be any bellmen running out to help."

"Garrett said low profile," Dardon said. "I didn't think you'd want to be in one of the bigger inns close to the site of the massacre. Some of them are tourist traps."

"No, I definitely wouldn't want that." She made a face. "The idea of making money out of tragedy is pretty repulsive."

Dardon nodded. "And the town sure does a good business out of the killing of the Romanovs. Boris Yeltsin tore down the Ipatiev House, where the family was butchered in the cellar. There's a memorial there now. A monastery has been built on the mineshaft where all the bodies were thrown."

Emily shook her head. "Museums and monasteries and memori¬als. Everyone trying to make up for that atrocity."

"Wait long enough, and people eventually come to their senses and abandon evil," Irana said. "But it took a long time for it to happen in this place. It was like the death camps at Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen. Everyone denying that they had anything to do with it or even that it happened at all. Everyone was afraid of the Communist gov¬ernment and didn't even want to talk about the Romanovs."

"But that ended back in the 1980s."

"And then the death scenes became a carnival. When I was here before, couples were getting married and having their pictures taken at the memorial."

"Morbid."

"That was what I thought. I tried to understand, but I didn't have enough compassion." She smiled. "I'm better now, but that came with age and experience." She headed for the entrance of the inn. "I'll go take care of checking in."

Garrett turned to Pauley, who was absorbed in his computer and hadn't moved from the backseat. "What's your progress?"

Pauley looked up from the computer. "Good. I had plenty of time to work. It was a hell of a long trip. I've linked to a language site at a university in Tokyo. They have some amazing technology. If this inn has a printer, I may have something for you by later this evening." He closed up the laptop and got out of the car. "Okay, load me up with suitcases. Though a man of my caliber is wasted on physical labor."

"Live with it." Garrett gave him three suitcases. "Explore a new horizon."

"Whatever." Pauley sounded distracted as he followed Dardon into the inn.

"He's amazing," Emily said. "You dictate what you want, and he pulls it out of that computer."

"The wonder of the Internet." Garrett started the car. "But he is pretty amazing, and he just takes it as a matter of course."

It was a grudging admission, but it demonstrated how far Garrett's attitude toward Pauley had changed.

"We might not have been able to save Irana without him."

"That's true."

"And he was helpful at Babin's place?" "Yes."

"Could I have done what he did?" He nodded.

"Then why the hell wasn't I there instead?" "We've discussed this."

"Yes, and the fact that you're unreasonable and chauvinistic." She glanced away from him at the inn. "And this is the last time I intend to mention it. I do not forgive you for it. But you did treat me as a partner and not a helpless doll when it was Irana at stake."

"And it may have been the most difficult thing I've ever had to do in my life."

"But you did it, and that's the only way you're going to keep from driving me away and doing exactly what you said you wanted to avoid. Understand?"

"Oh, yes, you couldn't be clearer. We'll have to see how it goes."

He wasn't going to commit, she realized. "Yes, we will." She grabbed her duffel. "And I can't say that I can-" She broke off as Garrett's phone rang.

He glanced at the ID. "Ferguson."

He answered and turned up the volume. "Anything more on Joslyn?"

"No, I told you that there was nothing to find out. He's an Eagle Scout." Ferguson paused. "I'm calling about Babin. Did you change your mind about taking him down?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Did you think it might be more convenient to get rid of him permanently? I don't appreciate you making me go to the trouble of assigning a man to watch him if you're-"

"What are you talking about?"

"Babin is dead. Massive heart failure. My agent said he had the at¬tack right before he boarded his flight for Monte Carlo." Emily inhaled sharply.

"I didn't change my mind," Garrett said. "If someone put Babin down, it wasn't me. Have you got the results of the autopsy?"

"No. But we both know how easy it is to induce heart failure if you know what you're doing. A pinprick from a tiny hypodermic nee¬dle, and it's all over."

"I didn't do it, Ferguson. I wanted to keep him alive in case I needed him. Did your man spot anyone suspicious?"

"A possible encounter at the escalator. I've got my agent looking at mug shots."

"Let me know if you find out anything."

"Oh, I will. Count on it." Ferguson hung up.

"Could it have been a natural death?" Emily asked.

"It could be. Anything is possible," Garrett said. "I doubt it. Too coincidental." He took the last of the suitcases and closed the trunk. "But we may not know for a while. Some drugs are so hard to detect that even if the forensic team knows about it, they have to make a zil¬lion tests to confirm."

"You think Joslyn ordered him murdered?"

"As I said, anything is possible."

"Maybe even probable. Staunton told me he sent Borg away to do a job." She remembered something else. "He even mentioned Paris." She shook her head. "Why? Revenge for talking to you?"

"Or to keep him from telling me something else. Or to try to im¬plicate me in his murder. You heard Ferguson. He wasn't pleased with me.

"Yes, I heard him." She thought about it. "But did he believe you? Will he cause you any trouble?"

"He probably believed me. He knows I don't lie. If he thinks he can cause me trouble, he'll do it just because he's pissed at me right now. But he won't do anything that will cause him to lose the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow." He opened the front door for her. "Don't worry about it, Emily. I can handle Ferguson."

"I'm sure you can. There aren't many people you can't handle, are there?" Her lips tightened. "But I will worry. We're in this together. It's my job to worry and you're not going to push me into a corner and tell me to be a good girl and not bother you."

He smiled faintly. "My apologies. By all means worry all you please." He glanced around the lobby. "It appears everyone has scat¬tered. I guess we should pick up our keys and go to our rooms." He paused. "Could I convince you to have dinner with Irana and me? I want to spend some time with her, and she seems not to want any in¬timate time with me yet. It may be a long time before Pauley comes through for us."

He acted as if Ferguson's call had never taken place, that Babin had not been murdered. Well, what else was he supposed to do? It had happened, and there wasn't anything that Garrett could do about it right now. It was just another ugly piece in this macabre puzzle.

"It's okay if you'd rather be alone." Garrett's gaze was on her face. "But sometimes it's better to be with other people. Even people you're not very pleased with."

And she didn't want to be alone, she realized. She had been feeling a sort of weird heaviness since they had arrived in Ekaterinaburg. She re¬membered she had thought a pall should be lying over the city, and maybe that was right. She had been in many places where tragic past events seemed to linger. Why should she stay in her room because she wanted to make a statement? That would be immature, and she had al¬ready said what she needed to say to Garrett. She wasn't about to remain closeted away and let memory and depression gnaw at her. "Where?"

He glanced at the restaurant across the lobby. "We can try there. It's better than room service."

"We hope." She sniffed. "I smell cabbage. Even in the good restau¬rants in Russia, you get cabbage and more cabbage. But maybe they'll have bliny. Those little pancakes make up for a lot." She moved to¬ward the reception desk. "I want to take a shower. It will be good to have a bathroom to myself again. In an hour?"

"Whatever you want. Anything you want."

She glanced back over her shoulder at the curious note in his voice to see that his face was without expression. But it was what she sensed behind it that made her catch her breath. "It's only going to be din¬ner, Garrett."

"I know. It's too soon." He held her gaze as he came toward the reception desk. "Isn't that what I said?" He repeated softly, "Anything you want."

Sheer hot sensuality.

He had given her anything she wanted that night in the lean-to. Anything, everything, and she'd still been hungry. The heat burned her cheeks as she remembered how many times she had satisfied that hunger.

He glanced away from her as the desk clerk came up to them. He began speaking to the woman in Russian.

Anything she wanted…

"THESE ARE QUITE NICE ROOMS," Irana said when she phoned Emily almost an hour later. "Sort of a combination of Russian exotic and American Hilton. Dardon did better than I thought."

"He seems to have the knack. I'm almost ready to go down to the restaurant. What's your room number? I'll stop by for you."

"Four-thirteen, but I'm not going to dinner with you. I've decided to get some rest. I didn't sleep much last night." She paused. "And I wanted to give you a chance to be with Garrett without me acting as a buffer. Either for him or for you."

Wise Irana. "I wanted you to come."

"And you wanted your buffer."

Admit it. "Yes."

"Well, you'll have to do without me. You're both my friends, and I want peace between you. Work it out." She added, "And now I'll hang up and order room service. I'll talk to you later."

Emily slowly hung up the phone. Peace? There wasn't anything re¬sembling peace between her and Garrett. That moment at the reception desk had been as charged and volatile as the moments before a tornado.

Irana had meant the anger that Emily had felt toward Garrett should be healed. The anger was still there, but it was constantly being overshadowed by other emotions. Her fear for him, her sympathy and empathy with the agony of his feelings for Irana, the flash of pure sensuality she had felt downstairs. Did she want that to happen? That night with Garrett had been incredible, but she would be safer not be¬coming involved with him. She had only taken small steps, but he was already having a massive impact on her. She was too vulnerable. She could call Garrett and cancel.

And she was going right back to being Staunton's victim. Hiding away because she was afraid of being hurt.

Screw it. All this self-analysis and soul-searching was bull. She would go on instinct and let the cards fall where they may.

She grabbed her handbag from the nightstand and headed for the door.

"ANTON BORG," FERGUSON SAID, when Garrett picked up his call just as he was leaving his room. "Positive identification from the mug shot. He was the one who bumped into Babin on the escalator. He's a known cohort of Staunton." "Did he fly in from Moscow?"

"No, from Tangiers. His flight got in an hour before Babin arrived in Paris." He paused. "And he took off on a Delta flight to New York within an hour of Babin's death."

"New York?"

"That surprised you."

"I was expecting him to come to Moscow."

"Maybe Staunton is in New York."

"No, that's not possible."

"Why else would Borg be going to New York?"

Garrett had a sudden thought. "Maybe not New York. Maybe Connecticut. Look, send someone to Connecticut to keep an eye on Nicholas Zelov."

"You think he's Borg's next target?"

"I don't know. I'm guessing. I'll try to call him. You send someone to check on him at his house." He hung up and called up his phone list. All he had was Zelov's home number, no cell. He could only hope he was at home and not too drunk to answer.

The phone rang six times before voice mail picked up.

Dammit.

"Zelov if you're there, answer me." He waited. No response. "If you get this, don't answer the door to anyone but the man I've sent up there to protect you. He should have CIA identification." Still there was no pickup. He hung up.

He could be wrong. Zelov might not be a target. Garrett had done what he could. He'd try to phone Zelov again later. Should he tell Emily and let her fret over something he wasn't even sure was threat¬ening?

Hell, yes. He wasn't about to alienate her permanently because he wanted to protect her. She would take a hatchet to him.

But it wasn't the kind of conversation he'd wanted to have over dinner. He'd seen signs of softening, and he hoped to capitalize.

Face it; he hoped to do more than capitalize. That was too cold a word, and he wasn't feeling cold. He got hot and ready every time he looked at Emily. He hadn't had enough of her that night in the lean-to.

He was beginning to wonder if he'd ever get enough.

Okay, stop thinking about getting her into bed. That would have to wait. He'd have to tell her that it was Borg who had killed Babin and might be after Zelov. After that, there wasn't any question that she wouldn't focus on what was most important to her.

"CALL HIM AGAIN," EMILY SAID after dinner. "He's got to an¬swer sometime."

"I called him before dinner and left another message." Garrett said as he poured a little vodka into his coffee. "I could be wrong. Why would Zelov suddenly be a target when he's been safe all this time?"

"Maybe Joslyn found out about Babin betraying him and decided that he had to give orders to eliminate both of them." She shook her head in frustration. "Oh, I don't know. I can see why he'd want Babin killed. Revenge is a pretty good motive."

"Excellent."

Yes, both she and Garrett were being driven by revenge. It was logical to her that Joslyn might want to punish Babin. Lord knows, Emily had wanted the same thing that day in Babin's office.

"Call him," she repeated.

Garrett took out his phone and dialed. "Still no answer. I should be hearing from Ferguson soon about the agent he sent up to the house." He poured her more coffee. "You didn't eat much. At least drink your coffee."

"I was distracted. I am distracted." She took a sip of her coffee. "It's frustrating, dammit."

"Yes, I knew it would be. I was tempted not to tell you at all." He held up his hand as she opened her lips. "I overcame it. It wasn't easy for me, but at least it wasn't a question of risking your neck. You know as much as I do."

She gazed at him for a moment. He was being honest with her. For some reason it was tremendously hard for him to keep from pro¬tecting her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. I make mistakes, but I do learn." He lifted his coffee cup in a half toast. "To progress." His phone rang, then he shook his head as she tensed. "It's not Ferguson. It's Dardon." He lis¬tened for a few minutes and said, "Let me know." He said to Emily, "Pauley's almost got it. Dardon says the room looks like a whirlwind of papers hit it. He'll call me when he's finished."

"Good. At least one thing is going right." She finished her coffee. "I don't want to stay here any longer. I'm tired of sitting and waiting for a phone call or something to happen."

He nodded and signaled for the waiter. "I'll take you to your room."

"That's not necessary."

"Yes, it is. I don't want you alone. You should have called me when you knew Irana wasn't coming down with you." He saw her expres¬sion and shrugged ruefully. "Okay, I just said progress, not perfec¬tion."

Five minutes later they were walking down the corridor to her room. "Why?" she asked suddenly.

He glanced down at her as they reached her door. "Why what?"

"Why are you so protective? Have you always been this way?"

"By nature. Not in practice. I've trained myself to stand back and let people live their own lives. It took a long time. I've led a pretty vi¬olent life, and I've lost people I cared about. It's my instinct to step in and build walls and keep them inside." He made a face. "Most people are like you and don't like my walls. I had to adjust. At least, I thought I'd adjusted. It doesn't seem to work where you're concerned."

"Is it because you found me in a situation where I-"

"It's because you're you, and I'm selfish. That's it. End of story," he interrupted. "I don't pity you. I admire your guts and endurance. I want to keep on talking to you. I want to look at you and see you smile. I want to go to bed with you again. Oh yes, I want that. If you get killed, then I lose everything." He reached out and touched her cheek. "Irana would say that I should think of you and forget about myself. Maybe someday I'll learn to do that, but that's not now. All I can think about is what you mean to me." He leaned forward and brushed his lips across her nose. "Selfish."

His fingers were gossamer-light on her cheek, but she felt as if the flesh beneath his touch was burning. She couldn't breathe. He was so close that she could feel the heat of his body.

He stepped back and turned away. "I'll call you as soon as I hear anything from Ferguson or Pauley." He was moving away from her. "Good night, Emily."

No!

"You come back here, Garrett."

He stopped and then turned to look at her. "Why?"

"I don't want you to call me."

He smiled and moved back toward her. "That's promising. Go on."

"You want me to say it? I want you to lean across the bed and tell me anything you have to tell me." She took a step closer and put her hand on his chest. She could feel the pulse leap beneath her touch. "Because I'm selfish, too, Garrett. I don't want to be alone tonight."

"Then you won't be. Whatever you want, remember?"

"Yes." She remembered, and the memory was making her body meltingly ready. "That's good. And I'll try to give you whatever you want, too." She put her cheek on his chest, and whispered, "I won't mind your building walls. Not tonight, Garrett. I want to close every¬one else out."

"Then by all means, let's start doing it." He reached behind her and opened the door. "Because there are all kinds of walls." He was leading her toward the bed. "And they don't have to be a prison." He pushed her gently down on the bed and started to undress. "There can be doors and windows and passageways that can lead anywhere."

Her hands were shaking as she took off her blouse. "I know where I want this passageway to lead. Hurry."

"You hurry." He was naked. "I'm already there."

Lord, he was beautiful, she thought hazily; lean hips, tight butt, and that air of leashed sensuality. In the lean-to at the farm, there had only been heated darkness, and she had not been able to see as well as feel. The sight of him was sending a tingling electricity coursing through her. She could feel it in her breasts, her wrists, her belly. Her chest felt tight, and she was having trouble breathing.

"We'll get there." He was coming down to her. He didn't touch her skin as he rid her of the rest of her clothes. "But let's explore a few of those doors and windows."

"Not now." She tried to move toward him. "I'm done with that."

"Shh." He held her still with one hand on her shoulder. "Just a lit¬tle." His fingers moved with teasing gossamer gentleness over her breasts. "Here's a window."

The muscles of her stomach clenched as heat moved through her.

"Oh, yes." He smiled as he moved down to her belly and started to rub. "There's another one. So many wonderful doors and windows."

She was burning up, she thought desperately.

She needed it.

And so did he, dammit. She could feel the heat emanating from him, and his body couldn't have been more ready for her. Seeing that readiness was almost as much a tease as his hand on her flesh.

Almost. Every stroke of his fingers was bringing her closer to-

"I love to see you like this," he whispered. "And know that I can do it to you."

"Now, Garrett. I can't take any more."

"Yes, you can." He leaned forward and kissed her belly. "But maybe not right now. Later." He moved between her legs. "I think it's time to open another door…"

She cried out as he plunged deep and started to move.

"WERE THE WALLS HIGH ENOUGH?" Garrett asked as he moved off her and rolled with her to his side of the bed. "Enough doors and windows? We can try again."

She laughed as she tried to get her breath. "No, we can't. Not yet. Give me a chance to-" She shuddered as Garrett's hand moved again over her belly. "Or maybe not."

He chuckled. "No, I've been rejected. I think I'll make you wait a while." He cuddled her closer. "Maybe another five minutes. This is good, too."

Yes, it is good, she thought. She felt safe and wonderfully at home being held by him. It had been different tonight, after that first explosive beginning. Sexual, intense, mind-blowing, but there had also been a sort of joyous energy and fun that had surprised her. Was it be¬cause he had sensed that was what she needed? "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

"That you're very intuitive." Her lips brushed his shoulder. "I be¬lieve you're a remarkable man, Garrett."

"This isn't the moment to admire that particular ability." He said. "I'd rather you concentrate on my sexual talents and the size of my-" His cell phone on the nightstand rang. He sighed as he checked it. "Dardon." He punched the button. "Has Pauley got it finished?" He listened. "No, we'll be down to pick it up." He hung up and gazed at Emily. "You heard me. Is that what you want?"

It wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to stay here with Garrett and not get out of bed for a week. But she knew what she should do, what she had to do. She nodded. "As soon as I shower and get dressed."

He tilted his head. "That sounded satisfyingly reluctant." He bent over and brushed his lips over first one nipple, then the other. "So I think we'll compromise." He got out of bed and pulled her to her feet.

"By all means, we'll tend to business as soon as we get dressed." His palm stroked her bottom as he nudged her toward the bathroom. "But we have to shower. It might as well be together…"