Chapter 7

Harm knocked on Mac's door promptly at five.  He could hear Mac's voice, strident but muffled, from within.  She opened the door with barely a glance in his direction before turning away.  She held the phone sandwiched in her shoulder.

"Chloe, I have to go."  Mac walked toward the kitchen where her purse and coat lay in a pile on the counter.  Harm couldn't help but admire as she went.  The dress the fashion people had given her was short and made of a satiny material the color of milk chocolate.  It clung suggestively to her curves as she walked, the fabric running with liquid color where the light struck it just right.

"Whoa," Harm commented under his breath as he let himself into the apartment.  Mac was beautiful under any circumstances, but she could be stunning when she chose.

Mac was still involved in her phone conversation, which, by its tone didn't sound very pleasant.  But then, Harm knew Chloe and Mac had been having some troubles since Mic left.

Mac heaved a tired sigh.  "Yes, Harm is here.  We need to leave in a few minutes."  A pause.  Mac looked toward the ceiling, her voice pained.  "I told you, it's an investigation and I can't give you any details.  Besides, you'll see for yourself soon enough."

That apparently made Chloe pause, and Mac took advantage of the opportunity.  "Goodbye, Chloe.  I love you."  She hung up quickly.

When she turned to look at Harm, he shrugged.  "She hates me."  He always felt like he needed to apologize for that, though it wasn't his fault.

Mac sighed, frustrated.  "Well, you're not Mic."

"No, I'm not."

Mac's gaze jumped to his.  "I'm sorry, Harm.  She's young and idealistic.  She's convinced Mic and I belong together--"

"And that I got in the way.  I know."  Harm walked over to the couch and seated himself on one arm. 

Mac came to him as if drawn.  He could see the hurt and frustration in her eyes.  "She won't listen.  She doesn't want to believe that I couldn't love him the way he deserved, that it never would have worked."  She wrapped her arms around Harm's neck, her entire body tense from the roiling emotions that underlay her words.  Harm reciprocated, slipping his arms around her waist but not trying to pull her closer.  He had always wondered why she wanted a hug from him whenever she talked about Mic, but hadn't yet summoned the nerve to ask.

Mac heaved a sigh.  "In some ways, I am so glad you went down that night."

Harm turned to look at her face.  "Even though I almost died?"

Mac looked away.  "You didn't, so yes.  It was like I was in this fog…" Her gaze grew distant.  "Everyone else figured it out before me.  I really didn't understand why Mic was leaving, not at first."  She paused, rigid in his grasp.  "You want to know when I figured it out?" Her voice had taken on a bitter edge.

Wary, Harm nodded.  "Tell me."

"When I walked away from your door.  Because that hurt more than watching Mic step on an airplane to Australia."

Harm could hardly force himself to breathe.  Had they really gotten to the point they could re-open this wound and set it to healing?  He had long since locked away the things he'd realized that night because they were too painful to live with, but now…

His breath caught in his throat.  "Mac--"

It was too much, too fast.  The moment shattered.  Mac backed up as if she'd been burned.  "We need to get going."  She went to retrieve her things from the kitchen.

Harm wanted to grab her and shake her, but knew better.  That would only harden her defenses.  Instead he watched her silently. 

When she had her things, he followed her to the door.

#

They drove in uncomfortable silence.  Mac alternated between berating herself for opening her mouth and trying to work up the nerve to apologize.  She watched Harm from the corner of her eye.  He kept his attention focused on his driving, which wasn't unusual.   For a man who had the reflexes and the nerve to fly fighters, he drove like a grandmother.

"The speed limit is fifty here," she commented as they passed another sign.

"We have plenty of time," was the cool response.  He didn't look at her.

Mac leaned her head back against the headrest, angry with herself.  Stupid, Sarah.  This was a bad time to open a can of worms.  She knew she'd hurt Harm's feelings, perhaps more deeply than she wanted to admit.  You really need to learn to keep your mouth shut around him when it comes to Mic.  Except that he was the only person in the world who could comfort her when her heart was on the line.

What a mess.  I wonder if any of the other couples are fighting on the way to this thing, or if it's just us?  She grimaced.  Listen to me, 'other couples'.  Is that what we are now?

Gathering her courage, she turned her head.  "I'm sorry, Harm."

His fingers flexed on the steering wheel.  "For what Mac? What you said… or what you didn't say?"  He shot her a single, piercing glance.

Ouch.  Mac bit her lip.  "Both, I guess."  She forced herself to go on.  "Mic told me that the only reason I agreed to marry him was because I didn't want to be alone, and he was right."  She made a helpless gesture.  "I don't want to make that mistake again."  She looked away, out the window.  "This-- this thing between us, Harm… I don't know what it is.  All I know is that it's deep and powerful, and--" She shook her head.  "And this assignment is just making it more confusing."

He sighed, no longer sounding angry.  "No objection here."  His gaze shifted between the windshield and his side mirror as he changed lanes.  "You didn't have to do it, you know.  The Admiral was all set to kill this thing."

"You're the one who filed the motion for a continuance," she pointed out.

He shrugged.  "Defense counsel for the Navy needed more time to prepare arguments and gather evidence."

Mac eyed him. "Which action defense co-counsel fully supports."

She watched as some of Harm's tension drained away.  She could see it in the set of his shoulders and the quirk of his every-so-expressive eyebrows.  A slightly more comfortable silence descended.

A bit later, Harm flashed her a grin as if none of the past twenty minutes had happened.  "Mac, how many lawyers does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

Mac stared at him in surprise.  The sudden change in his demeanor was a bit unnerving.  Was he really dropping the issue? 

"I don't know.  How many?"

He smiled.  "No one knows.  When the light goes on, they all scurry back under the rug."

Mac's laughter was pained.  "Oh, ouch."  Was the cockroach comparison aimed at me?  Harm wasn't usually that subtle.  No, most likely he was just making a joke to lighten the atmosphere, and for that she was grateful. 

She thought for a moment.  "All right.  How many psychologists does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"

Harm accelerated as he pulled onto a new street.  "How many?"

"I don't know.  How many do you think?"

He chuckled.  "How many airmen does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

Mac couldn't help but smile in anticipation.  The mutual disregard between the Air Force and the Naval services went back decades.  "How many?"

"Five.  One to hold the light bulb and four to spin the ladder."

Mac chuckled.  "I'll have to remember that one.  Let's see, how many CIA operatives does it take to screw in a light bulb?"

"Hopefully Webb doesn't have my car bugged.  How many?"

"If I told you that I'd have to kill you."

It was Harm's turn to laugh, but the laughter died as they turned into the Marriott's parking lot. 

"We're here."  He pulled into a parking space and killed the engine.

When he reached for the door handle, Mac touched his arm, halting him.  He looked at her questioningly.

Mac moistened her lips, her stomach trembling.  She had to take the step, though.  She owed him that much. 

"When this is over--" She indicated the hotel visible through the windshield.  "All of it… maybe then we can try to figure out…" The words lodged in her throat.

"…what this thing is?"  Harm cocked an eyebrow at her.

She nodded.  "Yeah."  On impulse, she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek, but at the last moment he turned and caught her lips with his instead.  Mac's heart leapt into her throat, powered upward by a lance of heat that speared through the center of her body, searing everything it touched.  Her fingers tightened spasmodically on his arm and the lapel of his jacket, knotting in them as if her life depended on it.  She felt his hand behind her neck, pulling her closer, holding her tight.  Distantly, she heard the sound of cloth sliding across the upholstery, but it had no meaning for her.  All that mattered in that moment was the feel of Harm's mouth on hers, the heat of his skin, and the frantic pounding of her own heart.

The kiss ended long before Mac wanted it to.  Harm's touch trailed away, leaving an ache where it had been.  She opened her eyes to find him watching her.  The blue, blue eyes stared into her own, unguarded and deeply surprised.  He blinked.

"That got out of hand in a hurry," he observed, sounding more than a little abashed.

Mac discovered she was leaning across the center console, well into the driver's side of the car.  She straightened self-consciously and fanned herself with the lapels of her coat. She shot Harm a sidelong look. 

"Is it hot in here?" 

He chuckled, breaking the tension, and flashed her an impish grin.  "Oh, yeah."

Together they got out of the car.  The cool air struck Mac's face and swirled around her body.  She drew a deep, bracing breath before walking forward to meet Harm.  Strangely enough, she didn't feel awkward slipping her hand into his for the walk across the parking lot. At least, not until the light pressure of his grip made her aware of the engagement ring decorating her finger, and reminded her of just how high the stakes were in this game they were playing.