Chapter 29
"You'll have to do better than that." Harm's words, coupled with that effortless, sexy smile of his, sent Nikki's heart straight into her throat. After all her hard work, he was finally starting to fall-- in lust, at least-- with her. That was what she wanted, what she craved.
"Is that an invitation?" she breathed, hardly daring to hope he'd answer in kind rather than backing down, as had always happened in the past. A man like this was used to having female attention lavished on him. She could only hope that the cold shoulder treatment his wife had been giving him lately (stupid woman) would be the little nudge that sent him over the edge.
"More like a challenge," Harm answered with an inviting grin, his blue eyes threatening to drown her.
Houston, we have lift off! Nikki smiled in triumph as she leaned in. An electric thrill ran through her at the touch of his lips on hers. She closed her eyes, sinking, powerless, into the kiss as the heat of it speared through her.
And then, suddenly, he was gone. Nikki's eyes flew open. Harm was staring at her, his expression intense.
"This isn't going to happen," he said in a quiet voice. The blue eyes seemed to bore straight through her.
Heart sinking, Nikki tried to catch hold of an opportunity that was rapidly slipping through her fingers. "Well, maybe not now…"
"Not now, not tomorrow, or next week or next month. Not ever." She didn't see even a shadow of conflict behind the firm statement.
Nikki bit her lip as her dreams of stardom and of bedding quite possibly the most amazing man she'd ever met turned to dust. Strangely, she didn't feel angry. Only sad. She managed a nod.
Harm echoed her, unsmiling. Then, without another word, he turned and pushed off from the pool wall in a rush of water, his strokes strong and even. Nikki watched for a moment, then rose to her feet and walked away.
#
Mac stood just inside the doorway leading to the deck, frozen in shock. She was invisible in the shadow of the bridge structure that loomed above her, watching as Nikki Upton leaned down to kiss her husband.
It was a short kiss, some rational portion of Mac's brain told her, followed by an equally short conversation before Harm went back to his laps. What it meant, though…
What it meant…
Mac didn't know what it meant.
Trembling, she turned and retraced her steps into the interior of the ship.
#
Harm wasn't sure how long he'd been lost in the cool, silent world beneath the water. He swam mechanically, needing the simple, repetitive motion to help measure the pace of his thoughts. He didn't know what to think, what to do. He'd never really been in a position like this before, where fulfilling his duty violated his ethics. His undercover assignments had never taken him into such gray lands before, nor left him feeling so… ashamed.
Ashamed. The word conjured memories-- kissing Mac that night on the Admiral's porch, the first time he'd seen his mother and Frank together, turning Mac away the night Renee's father died, waking up in the hospital knowing Mace was dead, staring at Diane's killer and realizing he had it inside him to murder a man…
All he knew at the moment was that he couldn't continue the charade with Nikki, for the sake of his own conscience. For the first few laps, he'd tried to convince himself that it was really about not wanting to hurt Mac-- that there were no deeper issues. But that wasn't true. Kissing Nikki was simply wrong. And he'd allowed it to happen.
It was a strange conviction for him, maybe. No doubt born of a bitter ten-year-old's inability to let go of his father and watch his mother fall in love with another man. No matter how good he was for her. But in finding the truth about his father, and in meeting Sergei, Harm had finally been able to get rid of the sense of betrayal that had followed him throughout his adult life.
His deep-rooted belief that love required absolute loyalty, however, hadn't changed. It was fundamental to who he was. And when he'd kissed Mac on the Admiral's porch that night… it had shattered his image of himself as an honorable man. He knew he could have had her-- taken her away from Brumby with a touch, a word-- and destroyed everything decent inside himself in the process.
He'd almost done it anyway. Only the irrational, numbing fear of loving her only to watch her die kept him from stepping across that line. One kind of selfishness preventing another, worse kind.
That was why he'd had to turn her away when Renee's father died. Because he'd given Renee a tacit promise, and was honor bound to be faithful to it until the promise was dissolved. And because, if he couldn't find the strength or decency to be true to himself, he would never be worthy of Mac.
Harm surfaced at the end of the lane and hooked his elbows over the edge, breathing hard. The investigation wasn't good enough reason to continue this horrible, deadly charade. Bringing Ariel to justice wasn't enough. Even giving Mrs. Antony closure with what she'd suffered wasn't enough. He'd made Mac a promise to walk away if it got to be too much. For him, that time had arrived.
Resolved, Harm hauled himself out of the pool. He grabbed his towel, drying himself as he walked toward the nearest doorway. He had to find Mac.
#
He found her on the far side of the ship, standing at the rail and looking out to sea. The ship's central structure threw the entire area into deep, cool shadow. Even the breeze seemed chilly. Still soaked from his swim, Harm shivered and pulled the towel around his shoulders as he walked forward. He stopped next to Mac, who didn't acknowledge his presence.
"You heard." It wasn't a question. Something about her expression told him she already knew what had happened.
"I saw, actually." She turned to look at him for a moment, her dark eyes inscrutable, then went back to staring at the ocean. "I don't want to talk about it."
Harm bit his lip at her tone. Was she just playing to the cameras? Sticking to her role with the same tenacity she showed in both the courtroom and her personal struggles? Or was this real?
"Mac--"
"No." She gripped the rail tightly in both hands, rocking back and forth as if torn between strong, conflicting desires. "I'm not going to talk about this now." She shot him a single, unrevealing glance. "Go away, Harm." The expression in her dark eyes turned pleading. "Please. We can talk later. Just not right now."
"But--"
"But nothing, Harm. Just go." Her gaze changed subtly as she looked him up and down. "Go dry off."
His determination wavered. Had they really fallen this far? Or was it, like her little hair-pulling stunt, merely a superb act? I guess the answer to that hinges on what I really think Sarah Rabb is made of.
Harm nodded once, sharply, as he made his decision. He owed her his trust, and his respect. He would believe the best and follow her lead on this, if only until they had the opportunity to talk without other ears. Then they could decide together what they wanted to do.
Turning, he left. He wandered aimlessly, his feet taking to the door of their stateroom without any conscious direction on his part. He went inside, closing the door behind him, and leaned his head against it.
After a bit, he pushed himself away and went to the closet for clothes and a dry towel. Then he headed into the bathroom to change.
Something scratched Harm's skin when he started to dry himself. He paused to investigate, and found a note pinned to the towel. Harm recognized the paper that filled the bedside notepad-- several sheets of it-- folded over and attached to the thick terry cloth with a safety pin.
He stared dully for a moment before detaching the slips of paper. Unfolding them, he found a long note written in Mac's blocky script.
Harm sat before he legs could betray him, and began to read.
Harm,
I'm not sure where to start, so I'll just plunge in. I don't know when we'll get a chance to talk. So here goes:
I think my heart stopped beating when I saw Nikki Upton kiss you. I mean, we've talked about things like that and I know it's necessary, but I wasn't prepared for the reality. I'm sitting here right now, crying my eyes out and wanting so very much to throw myself into your arms and tell you I'm ready to walk away from the investigation. You promised we would go someplace private where we could talk, and right now I can't think of anything I want more.
I also know that would be the coward's way out, so I won't say it.
I'm not going to pretend that seeing you with Nikki today didn't hurt. It did. But I learned something important today, too. I learned that hurt is an emotion. Fear is an emotion (and I've got plenty of that floating around inside me right now as well). But trust is a decision. My decision. I'm tired of letting the past dictate the present. I'm tired of basing my security on events and the actions of others. I can't control what happens around me, or what you or anyone else chooses to do. I can control me. I can make choices for myself. I can decide what kind of person I'm going to be.
I trust you, Harm. No matter what evidence I see to the contrary, I am going to believe in us.
That said, though, I hope I don't see you in person any time soon. I'm not sure I could control myself, though whether I'd deck you or just pin you down and have my way with you, I can't begin to guess.
Ha. Who am I kidding? I know exactly which I'd do, and then where would our investigation be?
I love you,
Sarah
Harm read and re-read Mac's words until he was certain his eyes weren't deceiving him, and each time his smile widened. Mac, you're amazing.
Standing, he tucked the note into his pocket, then finished getting dressed. Afterwards, he went looking for the pad his wife had used. Surreptitiously, of course. He found it conveniently left under the bathroom sink, along with a pen, and chuckled.
It didn't take him long to draft a reply, which he left tucked inside the cover of the novel she was currently reading. It was a poor substitute for holding her and looking into her chocolate eyes while they talked, but it was better than nothing. And it was for sure a lot better than wondering what was real and what wasn't.
Maybe we'll make it through this thing after all.
