Intimate Betrayal. Donna Hill

staying.” She nodded in Reese’s direction and glided away.

      “So how long were you two involved?” Reese boldly asked.

      “It’s not anything I care to discuss,” he replied succinctly, shutting down any further discussion on the subject of Victoria Davenport.

      But even though Victoria was no longer in their midst, they were unable to recapture that brief moment of intimacy.

      They ate their meal of steamed mussels and garnished spaghetti in relative silence, punctuated by brief comments about the city of Los Angeles and places they’d traveled.

      “I always envisioned Japan as an extremely exotic and mystical place,” Reese said, as Maxwell drove toward the hotel.

      He chuckled. “A lot of that is pure hype. For the most part, it’s just like any other bustling metropolis, only more crowded.”

      “Humph. A lot of fun you are,” she scoffed. “You’ve completely ruined my fantasy.”

      Maxwell sobered and slanted his eyes in her direction. “Seems like a few things got ruined tonight.”

      “We did seem to get sidetracked. But it isn’t anything that can’t be fixed.” She turned in her seat to face his profile and waited.

      Maxwell cut the engine of the Corvette. For a split second before he turned to her, he pursed his lips as if debating the inevitable. Catlike he turned toward her, his dark exotic eyes skimming across her face. His gaze seemed to hold her breath captive in her chest, and she began to feel the drumming of her pulse in her ears.

      By infinitesimal degrees he leaned closer, his eyes never leaving her face. Just as his mouth was a whisper away from her, Reese’s eyes fluttered closed in anticipation.

      In a heady whisper, he commanded, “Look at me.”

      Reese slowly opened her eyes and was instantly drawn downward into the twin pools of midnight. His lips captured hers, his mouth hot, hard and moist. Unbidden, a sigh rose from deep in her throat when his tongue ran across her parted lips, before conquering the depths of her waiting mouth.

      Fingers of steel clasped her head, pulling her closer, deeper into the kiss, while Reese clung to his shirt as if afraid of drowning in the tidal wave of the coupling.

      A moan tore from Maxwell’s throat as he pulled slowly away. Gingerly he rested his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. He hadn’t expected a simple kiss to affect him the way Reese’s kisses did. Each time that his lips met hers, he lost another part of himself. He felt consumed by the roar in his heart. It would be so easy to let himself go with this woman—to give himself up to her and make her his.

      Reese tenderly caressed the hard line of his jaw. She felt shaken, and lightheaded. Certainly she’d been kissed before more times than she could count. But never before had she experienced the awesomeness of a simple kiss. Max had transported her to a place she’d never been and her body, on fire, was screaming for more of the sweet torture.

      Maxwell inhaled deeply then spoke in one long breath. “I think you ought to be getting upstairs. We have a busy day tomorrow,” he added softly.

      “Max, I…”

      His dark eyes swirled, reflecting the raging storm that brewed in his spirit. But his voice masked the turmoil within. “It’s really late Reese. I’ll have a car pick you up at seven forty-five,” he continued, now all business.

      She’d never felt so humiliated. But she’d never give him the satisfaction of seeing her break down. “You’re right. And I did want to get some writing done before I went to bed.” She turned away from him and flipped the lock on the door. “Good night, Max, and thank you for a lovely evening.”

      Before he had a chance to respond, she was out of the car and pushing through the revolving doors of the hotel.

      Maxwell pressed his head against the steering column. “You idiot,” he bellowed, slamming his fists against the dashboard.

      Reese walked blindly through the lobby, propelled by instinct. Each step she took she fought down the tears that scorched her eyes. She would not cry, she vowed. The headache that had begun at the restaurant built to a crescendo.

      By the time she reached her room, she was weak with the pain. Stumbling to the bathroom, she snatched her medication from the cabinet. Downing two tablets without benefit of water, she virtually crawled out of the bathroom to her bed.

      Collapsing on top of the quilts, she squeezed her eyes shut against the torrent of pain, and then the nightmares bloomed with terrifying might.

      Chapter 7

      James Knight sat erect, waiting to be called in by his superiors. He knew what the questions would be. He was prepared.

      “Colonel Knight.”

      James looked up, then stood at attention.

      “The general will see you now.”

      James followed the secretary down the long corridor to the main conference room. Nothing good ever came out of meetings in this room, he reflected morosely. He’d attended enough of them to know.

      Moments later, James was sequestered in the conference room full of secret service and high-ranking military staffers. He recognized several of the faces as Special Forces personnel as well.

      “I’ll get right to the point of this meeting Colonel Knight,” General Murphy began. “It’s been brought to our attention that your son,” he paused and glanced at his notes, “Maxwell, is being interviewed by Visions Magazine.”

      “Yes, sir, he is.”

      General Murphy closed the folder and stared at James over the top of his glasses. “How much does he know, Colonel? And what are the chances of this reporter digging far enough back to uncover your activities?”

      James cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. “My son knows absolutely nothing about what went on that morning, sir. He was only seventeen years old. As for the reporter, sir, I can’t say what he or she will find out.”

      General Murphy pursed his lips, then clasped his hands in front of him. “That, unfortunately, is not good enough, Colonel Knight. We cannot allow even the slightest hint of wrongdoing to be linked to the military.”

      “I understand that, General. I…”

      “No. I don’t think you do understand, Colonel. We have a situation here. It’s up to you to ensure that your son in no way points this reporter in our direction. Are you aware that the reporter is Hamilton Delaware’s daughter?”

      “Yes, sir.” He swallowed back the memories. “She hasn’t remembered anything, sir, or we would have known.”

      Murphy waved away his comment. “Do what you must, and we will do the same. Keep me posted.” The general looked down at the files on the table. “You’re dismissed, Colonel.”

      James stood at attention and saluted, turned on his heels and strode out. His son was in danger, he realized, the panic building with every step he took down the long, winding corridor. The general’s message was shrouded, but clear. General Murphy would do whatever was necessary to cover the activities under his command. He’d done it once. He’d do it again and again. The Special Forces unit of the Air Force, of which James was still a part, would not be implicated, even if Murphy had to remove everyone with any knowledge of what they’d done.

      James returned home feeling as if ten years had been added to his age. He knew what he had to do. Closing the door behind him, he walked into the kitchen, picked up the phone, and dialed his best friend Larry Templeton.

      Victoria paced the carpeted living area of her hotel room. It was pure chance that she’d run into Max last night. Her intention was to arrive unannounced at his office. The fact that he’d taken Reese to what had once been their favorite restaurant in L.A. only fueled her