Honor Bound

Chapter Ten

Donna Summer eyed Normani speculatively across the small glass-topped table in her breakfast alcove. She watched her start on her second cup of coffee and decided it might be safe to try conversation.

"Are you going to tell me why Pete is your head spooky again?" Donna asked offhandedly, reaching for a croissant and hoping that she would live to eat it.

Normani looked up from the cup she had been mindlessly staring into, searching Donna's face for some hint of the motive behind the question. She wasn't up to verbal sparring at the moment. She definitely wasn't up to hearing Donna talk about how much she'd like to get Megan Pete into bed. It had never been enjoyable, but now it actually hurt.

She didn't think Megan would be susceptible to Donna's brand of casual seduction, but she wasn't entirely certain. Donna was very beautiful, and Megan gave no hint of entertaining celibacy. All you had to do was look at her to sense her sexual energy. Normani recalled the rumor that her FBI contact had recounted to her about Megan's secret lover in DC. For all she knew, Megan might still be involved with someone there. She didn't want to think about that, not when she couldn't get the feel of Megan's hands out of her mind. But Donna merely regarded her solemnly, patiently, without the slightest hint of confrontation. Friends then, for the moment.

"Why?" Normani asked, trying not to snarl.

Not too bad, Donna thought. She didn't throw anything.

"Because I got the distinct impression that while I was in Europe, you made good use of my apartment. And I presumed you were with her," Donna answered. She'd seen the way the two of them had looked at one another for weeks before the shooting–as if they were struggling not to jump on each other and start tearing off clothes. And she'd seen Normani frantic with worry those first few days after Megan was wounded, until it was clear that she would survive. Even while the Secret Service agent was recovering and they'd had no contact, Donna had seen the change in Normani. Her notoriously restless friend hadn't been out hunting for a one-night stand in months. Normani must have wanted to be with someone very badly if she'd arranged for them to spend more than a night together somewhere. Since she couldn't bring a woman to her own apartment, she figured at Donna's they would at least have some privacy. "It was her you brought up here, wasn't it?"

Normani just nodded, seeming to have forgotten that she still held the coffee cup raised in front of her. Her mind balked at returning to those brief days and her wild hope of happiness. She wasn't sure she wanted to remember, not until she stopped aching every time she thought of her.

"Then we crossed in the air and by the time I got back from Europe, you were off to China. I never heard the juicy details..." Donna spoke carefully. Normani's expression was haunted. "The next thing I know we're sitting in a café, Pete is across the room watching you on full spooky status again, and you're a mess."

Normani's hands trembled slightly as she set the cup down. In the past three days, she'd begun to wonder if she hadn't dreamed those five nights in June. Five nights, and then Megan had returned to Washington for her new posting as a regional director in the investigative division. They both expected it to be weeks before they saw one another again. Normani had the China trip with her father, and Megan would be in the field soon. She might have believed it a dream, she supposed, if her skin didn't still tingle with the memory of their last morning together.

When she awoke, she was alone. The shower was running in the adjoining bathroom. She turned on her side, toward the empty space beside her, imagining she could still feel the heat of her lover, still smell her–rich and dark and powerfully enticing. Her stomach tightened, and she lingered for a moment, eyes closed, remembering.

She was drifting, pleasantly aroused, replaying the feel of Megan's fingertips along her thigh when warm lips brushed over her ear.

"Are you awake?"