Escape. He needed to escape. He could feel the static she gave off on the bare skin of his neck, and it was lifting the high-water mark of his pulse, even as he continued to point out the discrepancies in their suspect's report. He hadn't survived over a dozen years in the espionage game without becoming an expert at maintaining a two-way mirror between his outward mask and inner struggles. He could look out, but no-one was supposed to see in. Add that to the list of life certainties that Amanda King had demolished in her quiet way since they'd first met three years ago. Lee Stetson doesn't work with a partner. Boom. Lee Stetson is a loner who keeps his relationships with women physical and transient. Crash. Lee Stetson won't let anyone near his heart ever again. He could feel that one coming down, not with a bang, but a whimper.
He'd known this day would arrive, but still had no plan of defence. She was going to wash over him, soft and soothing as a wave, and then she was going to break on his hard edges. He knew it as surely as his heartbeat. Her gifts were manifold, but she was no alchemist. In reaching out to him, she was only going to hurt herself.
It wasn't that he didn't want her to try. His life begged for her gentle touch. But he was just unselfish enough to acknowledge that it couldn't last, exquisite though the temporary respite from loneliness would be. And then what? Salvation at arm's length was better than no hope of salvation at all. He needed to escape where he could be alone and recalibrate. He turned to her, some ready excuse on his lips until he met her fluid gaze and lost his will to do anything but stare. A roar like the ocean filled his ears, and pulled him towards her.
She was out the door before he knew what was happening, and he breathed out a shaky sigh. Grabbing his coat, he made his way to his car. He desperately needed to go somewhere and clear his head. Had it not been for her abrupt departure, he would have kissed her, right there in his office, and caught up in her undertow he knew he would not have been able to stop.
Driving aimlessly, he recited the familiar litany of his sins against Amanda. How he'd rubbed her nose in his relationship with Leslie, perversely relieved by her jealousy. How he'd whipsawed her steadfast loyalty to him during the Brackin case, hitting her then confiding in her then drawing his gun on her then kissing her hand. And then there was his greatest transgression of all: how he hid his growing admiration and need for her behind a cool façade of condescension and indifference. He hated himself on her behalf.
There, it was working. Reminding himself of all the reasons he was wrong for Amanda was a reliable antidote for the buoyant feeling that she brought to his heart.
Looking around, he realized he was on the Potomac Parkway, and decided to pull into the Watergate for a drink at the bar. Entering the lobby, he was shocked to see her familiar form as she walked towards the elevators, and only just managed to dodge behind a pillar before she could turn and spot him. What the hell was she doing here, going upstairs at 2pm? He struggled to find any reason except the obvious one, and failed miserably. Grinding his teeth, he made note of the floor that her elevator stopped on, then punched the call button violently.
The only thing that hurt more than the fact that she was meeting some guy for an afternoon assignation was the knowledge that he had driven her to it. He should have expected this. He had mercilessly led her along with no idea of ever letting her in because he couldn't help himself any more than he could deliberately hurt her. So why shouldn't she seek relief in someone else's arms? He'd certainly done the same himself, more than a few times. Somehow, that wasn't a reassuring thought.
Arriving on the fourteenth floor, Lee stalked down the hall. He had no idea what he was going to do when he found her. Punch her lover in the face, most likely. Apologize profusely for the million mixed messages and confused signals he'd been sending her way of late. Lay her down on the cool hotel sheets and speak to her body in a coded language they could both understand, his hands on her skin like morse …
The Do Not Disturb sign on Room 1405 still swung lightly on the door handle, and he listened intently for voices from within. Hearing none, he faltered. Jealousy and blind rage had brought him this far, but only courage could bring him to knock. Alone or with company, there would be no excuses for his intrusion, only the naked truth of his need for her to be his and his alone.
Raising his hand, it hovered over the wood for long seconds before he closed his eyes in defeat and knocked.