~~ VIII ~~
Lee glanced at Amanda out of the corner of his eye. She'd barely said a word on the drive back to the Agency and was now standing stiffly beside him in Billy Melrose's office, her complexion still slightly pale. She really should have stayed out of this mess. After all, Amanda thought smuggling a candy bar to a hospital patient was a major breach of protocol. He could only imagine the effect Billy's tongue-lashing must be having coming on top of that fiasco at the dog grooming shop. All in all, it had been a pretty rotten day.
As Billy shifted into high gear, he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "What the hell were you thinking?" their boss continued to rant as he paced back and forth behind his desk. "Not only is our one link to Finch dead, but now the Montgomery County police are involved." He indicated the thick file sitting on his desk. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take me to finish all their blasted paperwork?"
"That idiot Smythe called the cops before I could stop him," Lee put in.
Billy's eyes widened. "Don't tell me you somehow dragged Dr. Smyth into this, too?"
"That's not 'Smyth,' sir, it's 'Smythe,'" Amanda stated hoarsely as Lee cocked his head and stared at her. "With an 'e.'"
"Well, I suppose I should be grateful for small favors," Billy shot back sarcastically. "But that's about all I have to be grateful for today. Not only is the last tangible link to Finch lying on a slab in the morgue, but Brody's people are probably on to the two of you as well." Lee felt Amanda shudder as Billy added, "Do you have any idea of the mess this has turned into?"
Lee shrugged lightly. "Yeah, but Billy – you really didn't expect me to just sit on my hands, did you?"
"I most certainly did!" Billy thundered back. "You know, I think that amnesia of yours is getting worse. I distinctly recall ordering you to stay out of the field."
"Yeah, well . . ."
"I don't want to hear it, Scarecrow," Billy cut him off angrily. "You have a singular talent for being unable to follow orders. You may be in charge of Q-Section, but it still reports to me!"
Amanda suddenly cleared her throat. "This wasn't just Lee's fault," he heard her say in a small voice. "I was there, too, sir."
"Yes, I'm well aware of that," Billy rejoined. "I'm not any happier with you, believe me."
Lee saw her flinch. "Amanda's not to blame for this, Billy," he put in quickly. "This was my call."
"No, Lee," she countered, biting her lip as she turned to face him. "I was the one who insisted on coming along. You told me to stay put."
Lee shook his head. "I'm the senior agent here; this is my responsibility."
She stiffened slightly. "I can take responsibility for my own actions. You don't have to protect me."
"Amanda, I'm not . . ."
"Okay, okay," Billy interrupted gruffly. "As far as I'm concerned, you can both take responsibility for your actions – starting with that stack of paperwork. It needs to be filled out, in triplicate, and on my desk the first thing in the morning. Now get out of here, both of you. I don't want to see you for the rest of the day. Do you think you can manage to follow that order at least?"
"Yeah, Billy," Lee replied with a touch of sarcasm. "I'm sure we can."
As Amanda retrieved the large file from Billy's desk, Lee reached for her hand and led her out the door and through the crowded bullpen.
"Mr. Melrose is pretty angry," she whispered once they reached the relative privacy of the hall.
He tightened his grip. "It's not the first time, believe me. Billy's bark is worse than his bite; he'll cool off. What concerns me is that he might be right about one thing – we're more of a target now." Lee sighed. "We'll have to be more careful."
"I'm sorry," she said somewhat breathily as they reached the elevator. "Maybe if I'd been a little faster on my feet, that guy wouldn't have called the cops."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. You'd just seen Ling Mai's body; the first time is always rough."
She let out a little sigh. "I know it's probably not really the first time, but it feels that way at the moment. Thank you, Lee," she said, raising her eyes to his.
"For what?" he asked with a puzzled expression.
"For what you did back there at the shop," she whispered throatily. "I needed . . . well, thanks."
"You don't have to thank me. I'm your hus. . ."
He suddenly stopped himself. Had he almost said the 'H' word? He saw Amanda's eyes widen. The hint of moisture in the corners made them look darker than ever and Lee could feel his heart thump loudly in his chest. Looking down, he saw that her hand was still grasped firmly in his, their fingers intertwined. Instantly he retreated a step and let go.
"The elevator's here," he muttered gruffly as the doors slid open. Amanda nodded and he followed her inside.
"Where do they get some of these clothes?" she said as she rearranged the odd collection of coats and jackets in front of them. "Or maybe they're in style now and we just don't remember."
Lee shifted uncomfortably; she seemed determined to make small talk, it appeared.
"I guess we'll be here pretty late tonight," she sighed as they stepped into the foyer. "I'd better give Mother a call and let her know we won't be home anytime soon. And she's making her special meatloaf, too."
Lee felt a thin layer of perspiration break out on his forehead as he listened to Amanda ramble on about dinner. With one foot on the steps that led to the Q, he suddenly paused. "I've got to get out of here," he mumbled.
Amanda looked at him strangely. "Lee . . ." she began hesitantly, glancing at the stoic Mrs. Marston out the corner of her eye.
It didn't matter. The only thing Lee knew was that he had to leave . . . right now. He reached into his pocket and handed her the car keys. "Go on home, Amanda. Just leave the paperwork on my desk. I'll take care of it when I come back. There's no use both of us being stuck here."
Avoiding her eyes, he barreled out the door.
~ ~ SMK ~ ~
Amanda sat down behind her desk with a frown. What had just happened? They'd been standing there in the corridor waiting for the elevator and Lee had almost referred to himself as her husband! She bit her lip; for one brief moment she'd almost felt as if he was her husband, too. Then, somehow, it had all fallen apart, and he'd done what he did best . . . run.
Yes, Lee Stetson was very good at running. She'd sensed that about him right from the start. Beneath that suave, sophisticated shell lay a scared, vulnerable little boy – something he kept carefully hidden from the world. And most especially from the people who cared about him.
She supposed it had to do with the way he'd been brought up. Losing his parents at such a young age, then growing up with that inattentive uncle of his. Lee had shared a little bit of his past with her when he'd asked for her help with Alexi. She sighed. What was it Lee had said on the ride home from the hospital? Oh yeah, that the business with Alexi all seemed like it had happened weeks ago instead of years.
He was right; she felt that way, too. She shouldn't be wading through this emotional maelstrom with the all too volatile Lee Stetson; she should be going home to get ready for an evening with Dean. Good, solid, dependable Dean McGuire, who loved her and actually wanted to be married to her.
She shuddered as the picture of Ling Mai's crumpled body played over and over again in her mind. She'd made the choice to get involved with Brody's network, Lee had said. She'd engineered her own death.
Amanda bit her lip. In a way, hadn't she done the same thing? How naïve she'd been that day at the train station. Somehow she'd let a fast talking stranger convince her to take that package and now she found herself embroiled in a world of danger and intrigue. Was that what she'd really wanted? The chance to end up like Ling Mai some day, lying on some dirty tile floor, covered with dog hair, her life over?
That's what had almost happened, though. A pet grooming shop or a dirty warehouse, it was all the same.
Her eyes were drawn to the middle drawer on her desk. She carried a gun now, too, just like Lee. She'd come across the slim, pearl-handled pistol the other day while searching for some form or other Francine had needed. It lay there still, an unspoken reminder that she had, indeed, chosen this life, this career, this man.
Amanda pushed away from her desk with a shudder. She couldn't think about this any more; it was just too much all of a sudden. Anger washed over her in a wave. Her daughter was waiting patiently at home; if Lee wanted to finish that damned paperwork himself, then he was welcome to it. She could run just as well as he could.
~ ~ SMK ~ ~
Lee felt the knot in his stomach slowly begin to dissolve as the full-bodied Cabernet trickled over his palate. A quiet, relaxing dinner alone with some fine wine, fine food and a little ambiance was just what the doctor ordered.
His smile widened as he studied the menu. L'Ornate had added some new house specialties, it seemed. Confit of Moulard Duck Leg, Lobster Crawfish Bisque . . . and the Cassolette d'Escargots looked absolutely first-rate. Yes, he was definitely having the escargot. He groaned and shook his head. Meatloaf, indeed. The only thing that even came close to it on the menu was the Pate de Fois Gras.
He reached for his wine and took another sip, soaking up the atmosphere. This restaurant had always been one of his favorites. In fact, at one time he'd even thought about living in this neighborhood. There were some really great apartments not too far away. The elegant brick buildings were a far cry from white Cape Cod houses with picket fences.
Of course, an apartment didn't have much backyard to speak of. Emily certainly loved playing in the backyard. He smiled as he remembered how her face had filled with excitement the other day as she'd sprawled out on the ground, determinedly trying to make angels in the rapidly diminishing snow.
"Lee, darling. Now this is what I call a happy surprise. What brings you so far from suburbia?"
Lee looked up into the smiling face of a slickly coiffed blonde, her designer dress clinging to her in all the right places. She might be a few years older, but he'd recognize that sultry voice anywhere.
"Elisa," he said, breaking into a grin. "It's good to see you. It's been a, uh, long time." At least, he hoped that was the truth.
"Yes, it has, darling." She looked curiously around the restaurant. "Where's that charming wife of yours? In the ladies' room?"
"No," Lee replied a little too quickly. "She's at home."
She raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly. "You're dining all alone?"
"Ah, not any more," he replied with a short laugh.
She smiled as she took a seat opposite him in the darkened booth. Elisa Danton was nothing if not transparent. But it was one of the things he liked best about her. There were no hidden depths, no expectations he couldn't meet. What you saw was definitely what you got. Not like . . .
"So, how is that adorable little girl of yours?" Elisa asked, draping her napkin over her lap. "She's what now, three?"
"She just turned five."
"Time certainly does fly. And here I don't feel a day older than the night we met." Elisa laughed, a light tinkling sound that rippled out from behind the menu. "That was some party."
Lee's rough laughter mingled with hers. "Yeah. I'm not sure the French ever recovered."
"Or their cuisine, either," she murmured as she studied the menu. "The entrees here are so . . . passé, don't you think?"
"Uh, yeah, I guess they are at that," Lee muttered. "So Elisa, tell me, what's new in your life?" He figured he'd better beat her to the draw and ask. Somehow, he couldn't quite picture himself saying casually, 'Oh, nothing out of the usual; my brain is under the impression it's 1983, but hey, I'm a spy, what do you expect? It's simply a hazard of the profession.'
Letting out a short breath, he looked across the table at Elisa. It didn't seem that he had anything to worry about; she had enough conversation to last into the next year. Had she always been like this, he wondered as she talked her way through the appetizers and into the main course? It didn't quite fit the picture of the sultry, sophisticated Elisa Danton he remembered. She must have changed.
At least she managed to keep him entertained. He'd barely had time to think about all those things he couldn't remember. In fact, he'd barely had time to eat the escargot he'd wanted so badly just an hour earlier. His dinner lay practically untouched on his plate.
"You've been pretty quiet this evening, Lee," she said with a smile as the waiter cleared away the last of the dishes. "Cat got your tongue? Or is it your wife?" she said, placing her hand on top of his. He could feel the arousing scratch of her nails on his flesh as she caressed him.
"What's this?" she demanded gently, holding up his hand. "I don't see a ring. Trouble in paradise, darling?" The light murmur in her throat turned into a hum as she turned his hand over and stroked his palm. Hum, hell – the woman was practically purring.
"Uh, Amanda and I are working through a few issues at the moment."
"Really." She leaned closer, her tongue moistening her lips. "Do tell Dr. Elisa all about it."
Avoiding his dinner companion's inquisitive eyes, he extricated his hand from her grasp. Reaching for his wine, he sipped greedily, hoping to somehow lower the pounding in his head to a dull roar. Damn, he should never have opened his big mouth about his current marital troubles. The words had just slipped out before he could stop himself. It wasn't exactly fair to Amanda; after all, she was the mother of his child. He owed her some loyalty, especially after the rough time she'd had earlier today. He couldn't seem to get rid of the picture of her face as she'd stood over Ling Mai's body. Trembling, in need of comfort . . .
Amanda was certainly the polar opposite of the woman sitting across from him. Elisa Danton was oysters Rockefeller and French champagne; Amanda King was homemade cake and warm milk. And all the other things that reminded him of what he'd lost as a child . . . feelings that scared the hell out of him.
"It's nothing," he said at length as he felt Elisa's enormous blue eyes on him. "I'm sure it will sort itself out." One way or another, he added silently to himself as he drained his wine glass.
Elisa flashed him one of her world famous smiles. How on earth did she do it? The woman could still stir his blood with one look. He remembered that evening they'd spent together in Paris, years ago. They'd had dinner, just like this then danced well into the night. Oh, how he'd wanted her! When they'd finally arrived at the inn, all he could think about was peeling her out of that white suit layer by layer, then lying naked beside her on those satin sheets and making love to her for hours. She'd looked so beautiful standing there by the fireplace. If only that damn maid would leave them alone . . .
No, wait. That couldn't have been, Elisa, could it? His face scrunched up into a frown. Something about the memory seemed all wrong.
"I know what you need, darling," Elisa said, her silken voice penetrating his foggy mind. "There's a great little place I know that serves an absolutely scandalous dessert."
"What place?" Lee all but croaked. His breathing roughened as he suddenly felt her toes tease along his calf.
Elisa smiled. "Why, my place, of course."
He hesitated, but Elisa would have none if it; she ran her fingers lightly over his again, her thumb sensually caressing the third finger of his left hand. For some reason, Lee felt oddly naked.
"No questions, no strings," she said, flashing him yet another alluring smile. "We've never needed them, have we, lover?"
"No," he returned, his voice gravelly and deep, "we never have."
She quickly told the waiter to charge the dinner check to her account, then opened her purse and placed a few bills onto the table. Elisa Danton seemed to take it as a matter of course that he wanted the same thing she did. A night of passion, no expectations, no promises of tomorrow or talk of yesterdays he didn't remember. Hell, maybe she was right. Sitting here in this restaurant, in this darkened booth, he was suddenly overcome with an overwhelming yearning. He couldn't explain it. He only knew that he didn't want to go home alone, again.
Sliding from the booth, he followed her through the crowded restaurant and out onto the street. Silently he motioned for a cab which arrived all too quickly. As he held the door open for Elisa, she paused and nuzzled against him. He felt the tantalizingly light touch of her lips on his neck as she whispered softly, "Well, lover, what are we waiting for?"
TBC
