--18--

i

It was nearly three a.m. when the door to his hospital room finally opened. "It's about time, Billy," he grumbled, drumming his fingers impatiently on the bedcovers. "I was beginning to think you were ignoring me."

"Uh, sorry, Lee," the visitor responded in a low voice, "it's only me."

"Phillip." He let out a soft groan as he leaned forward. "What are you doing here in the middle of the night? You should be asleep."

The boy shrugged. "Something woke me up and . . . well, I just couldn't get back to sleep."

"I see." Bracing his sore ribs, Lee raised the head of the bed and studied his stepson more closely. The bruise on his cheekbone stood out prominently against his pale complexion, and there was a thin sheen of perspiration on his forehead. He gave the boy a knowing look. "Sometimes it's hard to sleep when you're in the hospital, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I'm really tired, but . . ."

Lee indicated the big lounge chair with a nod. "Then why don't you sit for a minute before you head back to your room? I can't really sleep, either, and I could use the company. That is, if you want to," he added when Phillip hesitated.

"I guess . . . I guess I could stay for a little while."

Keeping his eyes on the floor, Phillip shuffled over to the chair and lowered himself down. Only the scraping of the boy's disposable bedroom slippers against the hard tile floor broke the ensuing silence. As Lee cleared his throat, Phillip finally said, "Are you, um, really going to be okay?"

"So they tell me," he replied, adopting a lighthearted tone.

"That's good." Phillip rocked back and forth, his gaze fixed on the cracks in the tile. "Jamie will probably ask first thing when he wakes up, you know."

Lee's expression softened. "You can tell Jamie—and anyone else who's interested—that he doesn't have to worry. The doctors say I'll be as good as new in a few weeks."

"Your knee looks, well . . . pretty banged up."

Lee glanced ruefully at the swollen, purpling skin surrounding his kneecap. "It's been in better shape. I suppose I shouldn't be crawling through barbed wire fences or tackling the bad guys anymore."

Phillip frowned. "You really should let them do the surgery. My roommate's father had his knee replaced, and he's even jogging now."

"The miracles of modern medicine, huh?" He curled his lip. "Thanks, but no thanks—I hate hospitals." He paused, regarding the boy closely. "I didn't realize you knew the doctors had recommended surgery."

"I think . . . I think I must have heard Jamie talking about it to Dad and Carrie or something." Phillip licked his lips as he raised his head. "So, are they gonna let you go home tomorrow?"

"If they don't, they're going to have to tie me to the bed. I've already wasted way too much time in this damned place."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," the boy agreed, warming to the conversation. "I guess they'll let me out, too. The doctor said I really didn't have to be here tonight, except that Jamie and Annie had to be admitted, so he thought he might as well let me stay, as well." He kicked his foot against the bottom of the chair. "I guess I got off pretty easy in all this."

Lee tilted his head. "How so?"

"Well, except for the shiner, nobody would ever know that . . ." Phillip's voice fell off as he turned to stare out the window. "Well, I was pretty lucky, that's all."

"Phillip, look at me," he admonished gently, turning on his side in spite of the discomfort. "Just how bad was the nightmare that woke you, son?"

The boy jerked his head up. "How did you know . . .?"

"I've been in a hostage situation myself a time or two. Sometimes the aftermath is worse than the actual experience."

Phillip cast his eyes down on the floor with a sigh. "I'm okay."

"You know, I used to hand people that line all the time, just like you." Lee let his voice drop into a soothing cadence. "Luckily for me, your mother never bought it. If there's one thing she's taught me, it's that talking helps."

"Yeah, she's pretty big on that." His tongue snaked out and swiped across his upper lip a few times as he searched for words. "It's just that . . . well, I mean, I'm not a little kid, like Annie. I should be able to . . ." His voice broke. "I should be able to deal with this."

"Age has nothing to do with the ability to deal with an experience like this. The first time I was taken hostage, I had nightmares for months afterwards—and I was a lot older than you are now."

The boy's face brightened a shade. "You did? Seriously?"

"Yes. It's really a very common reaction, Phillip. Healthy, even . . ." Lee smiled to himself as he echoed the words Pfaff had said to him on more than one occasion. "Nightmares are the mind's way of blowing off steam."

"So, what did you do about . . . well, about your bad dreams?"

"At first I tried to pretend they weren't happening, keep going about my business as usual. But my supervisor recognized the signs of post traumatic stress and refused to certify me for field duty until I'd consulted psych services."

"But you were a trained agent . . ."

"Even trained agents need help coping sometimes. Now, I'm not saying I'm the right person to help you deal with what's happened to you, but I do understand how it feels to find yourself in a situation where events are spiraling out of your control." He shifted, easing himself back against the pillow. "If you want to talk, I'll be happy to listen."

Phillip twisted the hem of his hospital gown between his fingers. "I don't know . . . maybe it would help at that . . ."

"I saw the room where they were holding you," Lee said, giving him a verbal nudge. "It must have been pretty frightening to find yourself in a place like that."

The boy nodded. "Especially at first, when Jamie and Annie were out cold. I tried to wake Jamie up, but he didn't . . . I mean, I couldn't . . . and then I was scared that something was really wrong with him." Phillip's eyes took on a glazed expression as he continued to recount the story. "But . . . but at the same time, I was mad at him, too. I mean, I needed his help and there he was, unconscious on the bed. I guess that was pretty awful of me, huh?"

"Not at all, Phillip. Misplaced anger happens all the time when someone feels powerless."

"And then there was Annie," the boy continued, as if Lee hadn't spoken. "She was unconscious for so long . . . and when she finally woke up, everything was worse. She kept crying for Mom, over and over . . ." Burying his face in his hands, he shook his head. "Part of me kind of wished I could cry, too."

"But you didn't," Lee said, his voice low and soothing.

"No," Phillip mumbled into his fingers, "I didn't."

"I'm guessing you tried to reassure her," Lee continued, "told her everything was going to be okay."

Phillip wrapped his arms around his chest. "She kept saying she wanted to go home. I tried, Lee—I tried to watch out for her . . . Jamie, too . . . but I . . . I couldn't."

"Phillip," he let out a deep sigh, "you did everything you could to take care of your brother and sister—"

"No, I didn't." The boy drew a ragged breath. "I'm the oldest. It was my responsibility to get Jamie and Annie safely out of that place, but instead I . . . I left them behind."

"Jamie was injured," he reminded him. "Even I had a tough time getting him out of there."

"I didn't know there was a bomb . . ." The boy's anguish bled through his words. "I would never have left them if I'd known—"

"Phillip," Lee ordered sharply. "Stop this right now and listen to me." His stern words had the desired effect—Phillip choked down his sob and obediently looked up. "What happened was not your fault," he continued, his tone softer now that he had his stepson's full attention. "You didn't do this to your brother and sister."

Phillip brushed the back of his hand across his eyes. "Then why do I feel so . . . so responsible?"

"Because you're human, that's why. It's natural to feel responsible for the people you love, to feel that you should be able to save them—even when circumstances render that entirely impossible."

His hands trembled ever so slightly. "Kind of like what happened with you and Mom that night, huh?"

Lee's eyes narrowed as he looked over the boy's head to the window. A few flashing lights drifted by every so often, but otherwise, the night was still. "There are times when things happen that you're powerless to change," he said in a voice grown gravelly with emotion. "Times when all the training and expertise in the world aren't worth a tinker's dam. You just have to make yourself accept what's happened and try to get on with your life somehow."

"We sure didn't make that easier for you when Mom died, did we?" Phillip's eyes filled with tears as he sought Lee's gaze. "I didn't make things easier."

Lee let out a short sigh. "You'd lost your mother, Phillip, and you were in a lot of pain. I understood that."

"So were you, Lee. I . . . well, I guess I can understand that better now."

"Thanks," he said, shaking his head sadly. "I just wish to God you hadn't had to go through what you did to realize it."

"I've behaved like such an asshole . . ." The boy swallowed hard. "You must really hate me, huh?"

"Not even close." Lee's eyes turned misty as he smiled at Phillip. "I'll always think of you as my son, no matter what happens between your mother and me."

Phillip straightened his back. "What do you mean? You guys will get back together."

"I don't know about that. It's been five years and things have changed."

There was an edge to Phillip's voice as he asked, "You don't love her anymore?"

"I love her more than ever," he replied, the deeply spoken words ringing through the quiet room. "That's not the issue."

"Then I don't get it."

"Your mother . . . well, she's met someone else and moved on with her life. I have to respect that, just like . . . just like your Dad did."

"Lee, I remember how Mom acted when she and Dad split up, and she sure isn't behaving like that now. You should have seen her when we were waiting for news about you guys. She was an absolute basket case—Mr. Melrose practically had to tie her down to keep her from running into that factory after you."

"She was worried about her children, Phillip."

"She was plenty worried about you, too." Phillip grinned. "Come on, you don't seriously think that Brad guy is honest-to-god competition, do you? I mean, now that Mom's got her memory back, she's gonna kiss off that jerk doctor. Not a moment too soon, if you ask—"

"Phillip . . ." Lee bolted upright, oblivious to the pain that shot through him. "Are you telling me that your mother remembers?"

"Yeah, I thought you knew." Phillip frowned. "I thought she would have been in here first thing."

Tossing the covers aside, he yanked out the intravenous line and used both hands to ease his bad leg to the floor.

Phillip sprang to his side. "I don't think you should be doing that . . ."

Ignoring the hint of panic in his stepson's voice, Lee cautiously tested his knee. "Give me a hand, will you?" he growled when he found it wouldn't quite hold his weight. "I've got to go—"

"You'll do no such thing, Phillip." The words rang out from the doorway, and they both looked up to find Amanda standing there, her hands on her hips and a frown on her face. "What on earth do you think you're doing, Lee?" she demanded, her scowl deepening.

Phillip jumped at the tone of his mother's stern voice, and Lee lost his balance, falling backwards onto the bed. "I thought that was pretty obvious," he said through gritted teeth as he tried to right himself. "I was about to look for you."

"Well, it appears you've found me, and not a minute too soon." She quickly crossed the room to his side. "Get back into bed this instant. You know perfectly well you're not supposed to be up and around." She turned to Phillip. "And as for you, young man, you scared me half out of my wits. You weren't in your room, and the agent outside your door didn't seem to have any idea where you'd disappeared to. They're about to scramble a response team to search for you."

"Phillip," Lee raised his eyebrows, "you gave security the slip again?"

"Uh, yeah." A grin spread across Phillip's face. "It was pretty easy, actually. I just called the front desk and pretended I was someone from the Agency who wanted to talk to the guard. I guess the guy wasn't too swift, because he fell for it." He turned to his mother. "I'm sorry, Mom, I didn't mean to scare you. I just needed . . . well, I'll apologize to the agent on duty."

"Yes, you should. Until we've rounded up the people responsible for what happened tonight, they're still a threat. When you ditch your security guards, you're making their job harder, Phillip."

"I, um, didn't think of that." He gave his mother a hug. "I'm sorry, Mom. I won't do it again."

Amanda glanced from Phillip to Lee, tears gathering in her eyes. "I need to get you back to your room before the Agency goes on full alert. And while I'm at it, I'll find somebody to restart that I.V.," she said, shooting Lee a look.

"Whatever," Lee grumbled, readjusting his leg on the pillow. "I'm obviously not going anywhere."

"Once I get Phillip settled, I'll be back." She paused. "Lee, we need to talk."

His eyes followed her as she walked Phillip to the door. There was something about her that struck a familiar chord. She was no longer hesitant, as if she knew exactly who she was and what she wanted. She'd obviously taken the time to think things through. That must be the reason she hadn't been to see him yet. Memories or no memories, she'd chosen to stay with Stevenson and needed to steel her courage before telling him the news.

"Lee." He looked over to find Phillip standing hesitantly half-in, half-out of the room. "Remember what I said, okay?" his stepson told him, jerking his head at his mother's back as she preceded him into the hall.

"You, too," he replied, attempting a smile. Whatever happened with Amanda, he'd clearly come to some sort of a rapprochement with the boy. That, at least, was something to be happy about.

ii

Francine Desmond tiptoed into the room to avoid waking the sleeping child. "It looks like it was a false alarm," she whispered to the nervous grandmother. "Amanda's found him."

"Thank God." Dotty West patted her chest. "I'm definitely getting too old for this kind of heart-thumping excitement. Where was he?"

As the little girl stirred lightly in her sleep, Francine lifted her eyebrows. "Why don't we take this outside?"

"That's an excellent idea."

Francine waited while Dotty tucked the covers around her granddaughter. Kissing the tip of her fingers, she touched the air above the child's head then motioned for Francine to follow her.

"She really is the spitting image of her father, isn't she?" Dotty said with a sigh as they moved into the hall.

"Yes, she certainly is."

The pediatric unit was quiet in the early hours of the morning. Nodding to the guard stationed outside Annie's room, Francine drew Dotty down the hall toward the nurses' station.

"So," Dotty said, folding her arms across her chest, "you were about to tell me where they found Phillip."

"In Lee's room."

"Really?" Dotty's face lit up, and Francine couldn't help but envy the energy that seemed to radiate through her. "Recent events should certainly have taught me that wonders really never do cease," Dotty went on, "but for some inexplicable reason, they still seem to catch me by surprise. Maybe there's hope for that relationship after all."

"That's not the relationship that worries me at the moment," Francine muttered, shaking off her fatigue as the elevator doors opened and a tall, pajama-clad figure began making his way down the hall.

"Whatever are you talking about, dear?" Dotty said, as Francine moved quickly to intercept the visitor.

Amanda's fiancé had a look of steely determination about him as he headed straight for Annie's door. Francine glared at the agent behind him, who shrugged his shoulders. Evidently Brad Stevenson had proved too much for a rookie to handle. Now she would need to show the ineffectual youngster exactly how this was done.

"Dr. Stevenson," she said, barring his way. "I'm afraid this area is restricted."

"Ms. Desmond." The man let out a sigh that was somewhere between frustration and annoyance. He'd evidently had his fill of agents today, rookie or otherwise. "You people certainly don't still consider me a suspect, do you?"

Francine cleared her throat and pulled herself up to her full height. "Not at this time," she said, handing him the official response.

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" He ran a hand through his rumpled hair. "After enduring hours of questioning by Mr. Melrose, not to mention two polygraphs, you can't still possibly think I had anything to do with what happened this morning at the house?"

Francine glanced over the man's shoulder to Dotty West, whose eyebrows had shot up at the mention of the doctor's name. "I'm confident that once the file on Brimstone is closed, you will be officially exonerated," she told him.

"In other words, you do still suspect me. Wonderful." His eyes narrowed. "I suppose this is Stetson's doing."

Francine bristled. "Dr. Stevenson, at the moment, Lee Stetson is immobilized in a hospital bed on the fourth floor. I highly doubt he's in any condition to be running point on this case. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to help your guard escort you back to your room. It's my job to make sure security is in place for all of our people here, including you."

"I do mind, actually. I was just on my way to check on Annie."

"Dr. Stevenson, I'm afraid I haven't made myself clear." Francine blocked him yet again as he tried to push past her. "Annie Stetson's visitors are restricted. I can't allow you access to her room at this time."

"Stetson . . .?" His forehead knit into a furious frown as exasperation gave way to full-fledged anger. "Look, Desmond, I've had just about all I can stand of your Agency bullshit for one day. You people close ranks all you want. I'm going to see my dau—"

"Dr. Stevenson," Dotty quickly interposed as Francine moved to stop him, "I don't believe we've met." Stepping between them, she extended her hand. "I'm Dorothea West."

As recognition dawned, Stevenson's lips parted in a broad smile. "Of course, you're Mandy's—"

"Yes, I'm Amanda's mother," she said, cutting him off. "I'm pleased to meet you. I certainly know how these Agency people can be," she raised an eyebrow at Francine, "but I can assure you, Annie's just fine. She's sound asleep at the moment, and I really do think it's best that she stays that way, for now. I'm sure Amanda won't object to you seeing her in the morning, once she's awake."

Stevenson seemed to hesitate. "She really is okay?"

"Fit as a fiddle, under the circumstances." Dotty drew in a long breath. "I can see that you care for her very much," she said, her expression softening.

"Yes, I do. Mrs. West—"

"Dotty, please. I know Ms. Desmond's concerned about security," Amanda's mother shot another look at Francine, "but perhaps she would allow you to accompany me to the cafeteria for a cup of coffee."

"Dotty . . ." Francine placed a hand on the woman's arm and gave her a significant look. "I'm not sure that's a very good idea—"

"Nonsense. You could have that nice young agent go with us, if you're worried. I'm sure Dr. Stevenson would welcome the exercise." She drew her eyebrows up sharply. "He seems to have been cooped up in here all day long."

"Actually, Dotty, I'd love a cup of coffee."

"That settles it, then." She turned to Francine. "Would you mind watching Annie for me until I get back? I think Dr. Stevenson and I need to have a nice, long talk."

Francine's alarm buttons went off. The woman looked like a spider about to lure an unsuspecting fly into her trap. "Don't worry," Dotty assured her. "Brad and I will get along just fine."

Francine rolled her eyes. Changing Dotty's mind was tantamount to stopping a locomotive going full-speed ahead on a one-way track. Capitulating with a sigh, she reached for her com unit. "Just let me arrange to have someone meet you on the cafeteria level," she said, glaring at the rookie agent who stood off to one side, smirking. "Your security guard is about to be relieved of duty."

She was rewarded by a look of distress on the young agent's face. At least she wouldn't be the only one having a rotten night. She'd let him stew for awhile, worrying about whether or not she would put him on report, then let him off with a stiff warning.

As she watched Dotty link her arm through Brad Stevenson's, she briefly wondered if Lee knew how staunch an ally he had in his mother-in-law. She almost felt sorry for the doctor; the poor man would never know what hit him.

"This is Desmond," she barked into her walkie-talkie. "Give me Sanderson on Level One."

iii

Pausing outside Lee's room, Amanda ran quick fingers through her hair. Finally deciding that making herself presentable was a hopeless cause, she opened the door and forced herself to go inside.

Lee was lying still on the bed, his eyes closed, with an intravenous line once again dripping fluid into his arm. "I'm not asleep," he murmured as she started to creep back into the hall. "Just resting my eyes."

His voice sounded oddly flat, making her feel even more ill at ease. "Uh, hi," she managed to murmur, unable to meet his gaze. She vaguely wondered if she looked half as nervous as she felt.

"Hi, yourself." Turning his eyes to the window, he added in a low voice, "I was beginning to think that you'd forgotten all about me."

The rebuke stung her. "I didn't mean to take so long," she started to explain, "but I had to straighten things out with the security team down the hall, then call Francine . . ." When he remained silent, she said, "I was here earlier in the evening, you know, but you were still unconscious. I had every intention of coming back, but I had to check on Annie and the boys . . . then Billy needed to debrief me . . ." She stopped. Her words sounded just as hollow now as when she'd handed them to her mother earlier.

"You don't have to justify yourself to me, Amanda." He made no attempt to clear the huskiness in his voice. "I understand perfectly."

She swallowed past the heaviness that was building in her throat, and choked out, "Lee, I need to tell you something—"

"How are Jamie and Annie doing?" he asked, abruptly veering off the subject.

Shoving her hands into the pockets of her rumpled jeans, she rocked back on her heels. "Physically, Annie's fine—just a little dehydrated. I'm not sure how much she actually remembers about what happened. Luckily, she seems to have slept through most of the ordeal. The pediatrician wanted her to spend the night, mostly as a precaution. She's sound asleep at the moment, thank God."

Lee appeared to be relieved. "And Jamie?" he demanded as Amanda crossed the room. "Is he okay, too?"

She frowned. It was as if he was deliberately keeping a buffer between them by steering the conversation to safe subjects. "Jamie was very lucky," she told him with a sigh. "The C.A.T. scan showed a mild concussion, nothing more. The doctors think his symptoms were complicated by a reaction to whatever drug he was given. We should know more when they get the results of the full panel blood work in the morning." She wrapped her arms around herself. "It's Phillip who really concerns me at the moment. He's the one who doesn't show his feelings on the outside."

"No, he doesn't," Lee replied, not looking at her.

"Do you think he's going to be okay?"

"Yes, eventually—provided that he gets the right kind of help." Eluding her gaze, he adjusted the pillow beneath his knee. "He's made a good start tonight, by opening up a little bit."

She couldn't help but smile. "I guess you guys must have had some kind of breakthrough then. I'm glad, Lee."

He frowned. "How did you know about my problems with Phillip? Did Jamie tell you?"

"No, it was Francine. She filled me in on quite a few things, actually."

"Great," he muttered under his breath. "I'm sure she got quite a kick out of dishing all the gory details of the past five years."

"Not especially." She stepped closer to the bed. "But she was absolutely right—there were things I needed to hear."

He stiffened. "I don't want your pity, Amanda."

"That's good, because it's not pity I'm feeling." She ran her finger along the sheets, as close to him as she dared. "Lee . . ." Her voice trembled, and she struggled to steady it. "How are you doing, really?"

He looked up at last, engaging her eyes for the first time since she entered the room. "I'm not exactly sure at the moment." His voice came from deep within his chest. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Dr. Scardelli thinks you're going to be just fine," she said in a rush as her courage failed. "He says your ribs aren't broken. Simply bruised from where the bullets hit your Kevlar—"

"Yeah, I know. He checked me over again after I woke up. But I'm not talking about Scardelli's prognosis, and you know it. Phillip said . . ." He drew in a deep breath. "Phillip said your memory's returned. Obviously, that's true."

She started to bring her fingers to her mouth, then stopped herself. "Yes," she said in a small voice.

Lee pulled himself up and leaned forward. "So you remember . . . everything?"

She nodded. "What happened at the factory must have triggered it. When I saw Herman Johnstone follow you outside and pull that gun . . ." She gulped down a sob. "I don't know . . . instinct must have kicked in. I yelled for you to look out and . . . well, suddenly I was reliving everything that happened five years ago . . ." As her words trailed off, she shuddered. "It was so awful, Lee."

"The things that happened or the remembering?" he asked softly.

"A little bit of both, I think."

His scowl deepened. "I see."

"No, I don't think you do." She tried to meet his eyes but only succeeded in staring at his chin. "The awful part about remembering was realizing how . . . how badly I've been treating you. Can you ever forgive me?"

"I don't blame you for what happened."

"You should blame me." She crossed her arms over her chest. "I blame me. If I hadn't made such a mess of the repression technique—"

"Then you could very well be dead right now. Annie would never have been born." His voice rang with emotion. "Is that what you want?"

A shiver ran through her. "Of course not."

"Then stop talking nonsense. You did what you had to do to save your life and hang on. I can certainly understand that, because I did the same thing."

"No, you didn't. Well, not exactly."

"What do you mean?"

"Francine," she said, her voice falling to a loud whisper. "She told me there hasn't been anyone else for you."

"No, there hasn't been anyone else," he said, echoing her words. "But I had an advantage that you didn't—I remembered what we had together."

"Had?" She forced a laugh. "That sounds awfully past tense to me."

"Only if you want it to be."

The words were blunt and cold, but his eyes held hers as they had in their first moments together. Her breath caught in her throat as she murmured, "You know I don't."

"Then your answer's right in front of you, Amanda." Despite the pain it obviously caused him, he held out both his arms. "Of course I can forgive you. Just come here."

"Oh, Lee . . ." Not even trying to hide the tears that spilled down her face, she flew into his embrace. "I'm so sorry," she mumbled, her cheek pressed against his. "So, so sorry."

"I'm sorry, too." His gravelly voice sent familiar chills through her. He drew her closer, shifting so she could move onto the bed beside him. "It's okay. It's behind us now. You remember . . ."

"I remember . . ."

Her lips brushed his cheek then moved ever-so-gently to his mouth. Their kiss happened almost of its own volition, a warm, intoxicating pressure that neither one wanted to end. A minute passed, then another and another . . . the sight and sound and smell of the hospital faded into the background as she lost herself in the wonder of Lee's touch. Her husband . . .

As a stifled moan slipped past his lips, she drew away. "I'm sorry," she whispered guiltily, her hand caressing his chest. "I guess I forgot about your injuries."

"What injuries?" he laughed, pulling her to him again.

"Lee, wait. There are so many things I need to say . . ."

"No, you don't. In fact, I'd kind of prefer it if you didn't say anything at all right now."

His deep smile revealed the dimples she remembered so well, and the flood of love she felt almost drowned her. "If that's what you want."

"It's exactly what I want," he said, covering her mouth once again.

This time their kiss was sweetly seductive and carried them both back against the narrow bed. As their hunger grew, her mind relived it all—the power of that first real kiss in the Q-Bureau, their frenzied desperation when he'd discovered her in Addi Birol's hideout, the sweet moment of surrender implicit when their mouths first met as husband and wife . . .

"Lee . . ." She whispered his name fervently as she rubbed her body against his. "If I'd only known sooner . . ."

"It's okay. I . . ."

He sucked in a sharp breath then let it out in a groan that was anything but pleasurable, and she pulled back, caught between desire and dismay. "I'm hurting you . . ."

He gave her his sexiest grin. "Don't apologize. That's the best damn pain I've had in a long time."

As he moved to her again, she put her hand on his chest. "Uh-uh," she smiled and shook her head, "not until Dr. Scardelli clears you, buster."

"A-man-da. You know how he is—"

"Yes. And I know how you are, too. You're going to follow every last one of the doctor's orders, and no arguments." Her brow knit into a tender frown. "Or I'll be forced to have Billy grant me a temporary security status higher than yours."

"You're aware, I suppose, of Scardelli's panacea for everything that ails you." He smiled seductively as he brought her hand to his lips for a kiss. "Bed rest."

"'Rest' being the operative word, Stetson," she returned, with a laugh. It felt so good to relax with him at long last. Almost as if the last five years hadn't happened at all . . .

But there was no denying that they had, she thought, her smile melting away. Just two floors above her, in another hospital bed, lay a man to whom she'd also made promises. A good man, a man she didn't want to hurt . . . even though she knew that she would.

Lee seemed to sense her shift in mood. "I'm sorry. Am I moving too fast?"

"Hardly. I'm your wife, Lee." She gave him a tender smile as she lifted her left hand. "See?"

He held her fingers and smiled as he stroked lightly over her wedding band.

"This morning you told me to do whatever I wanted with it," she said in a voice as watery as her eyes.

"Was it only this morning?" He shook his head. "It seems a million years ago."

"I know. So much has happened . . ."

He pressed his lips reverently to hers. "I love you, Amanda," he whispered, his breath wafting against her cheek as he pulled back. "That's all that matters right now."

The words that Brad had whispered so often resounded with new layers of meaning. "I love you, too," she said, realizing she had never spoken those words to Brad, not once. 'Care about you' . . . 'a wonderful man' . . . those phrases she had uttered with startling regularity. But never those three pure, simple words . . . 'I love you.' Smiling, she murmured them out loud again, to Lee, hugging him close and burrowing into the wonderfully familiar spot between his neck and shoulder.

As he suddenly tensed, she released him, her eyes clouded with concern. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"I was, earlier," he muttered, breathing heavily. "Now it's about a five on a ten point scale. I can tolerate it."

She sat up and looked down at him. "Let me get the nurse. They can give you something to—"

"No." He caught her hand as she reached for the call button. "I don't take that stuff anymore, Amanda."

She sucked in a breath and nodded, her fingers trailing soothingly over his forehead, then down his arm to caress the bandaged spot where Herman's bullet had grazed his skin. "I guess we have a lot to talk about, huh?"

"We do, but not tonight, okay?" He sighed in exhaustion. "It can keep until tomorrow," he smiled as he meshed his fingers with hers, "or the day after that or the day after that . . ." Lowering the head of the bed slightly, he drew her against him. "Tonight, I just want to hold you for a little while. I'm so tired . . ."

"Lee . . ." She drew in a breath, shaking her head. "I can't stay here in bed with you. Hospitals have rules about things like this."

He laughed sleepily. "My Amanda, always the rule follower . . ."

She stiffened slightly, remembering the look on Billy's face during her debriefing. She'd already broken more rules than she could count, first by marrying Lee in secret then by remaining in the field once she knew she was pregnant . . . not to mention all the lies she'd told her family. They were violations for which they'd all paid dearly . . .

"Lee," she said aloud, "I've got to go to Annie. Mother's with her now, but she'll be scared if she wakes up in a strange place, and I'm not there."

Lee closed his eyes. "Just stay for a few minutes then."

"Well, maybe . . ."

She snuggled against him more carefully this time, sighing as she felt his body relax and his breathing even out. She had to admit it felt good to lie beside him, with his arms gently cradling her. "A few minutes," she murmured, her eyes drifting shut. "Just a few more . . ."

Matching her breathing to his, she slept.