Part 22 (1/2)
Said curling iron was hot enough to require sticking her finger under cold running water after touching ita”dumb move.
Joan leaned in toward the mirror for a closer look at the dark circles beneath her eyes. ”G.o.d, I hate jet lag. I need some of that special makeupa”you know, the kind that you buy after you get into a car accident and meet your airbag face-to-face... ?” What she really needed was a longer nap. She shut off the water and dried her hands.
”Actually,” Muldoon called back to her, shutting the door behind him with a click, ”you can relax, because your lunch date is about to be postponed.”
The phone rang. There was an extension right there in the bathroom, but Joan stuck her head out the door to look at Muldoon. What, was he psychic or something?
He was standing politely by the door, but was looking around her room, at her laptop set up on the desk surrounded by an embarra.s.sing number of empty coffee cups, at the silk dress on a hanger that she'd decided not to wear to this lunch because it was a little too youthful and flirty, at the still-unmade bed that she'd crawled back into for an hour after spending that exhausting morning with her crazy brother.
And with Muldoon. She'd spent the entire morning with Muldoon, too. It was entirely possible that the most exhausting part of the morning had come after he'd stripped down to his T-s.h.i.+rt and muscled Donny into the shower, then into his pajamas and, once clean, into his sleeping bag on the closet floor.
Because then there they were. Standing guard against the hordes of roving aliens while Donny slept the sleep of the dead.
Alone in her mother's house, in her tomblike living room, where that stupid clocka”the loudest clock in the entire d.a.m.n worlda”ticked.
Joan had always hated that clock.
They'd sat there, surrounded by that infernal ticking, and Joan had babbled on and on about G.o.d knows what, talking about anything and everything to avoid discussing the subjects that really mattered. Like how completely freaked she got whenever she came into this house that she had no choice but to come to at least once a year because Donny never left. How awful it had been growing up under the shadow of Donny's illness. How badly she wanted Muldoon to tear her clothes off in a fit of pa.s.sion that was violent enough to knock over that stupid clock, or at least noisy enough to drown out the ticking for a little while.
He now met her eyes as if he could read her mind, and she retreated back into the bathroom and picked up the ringing phone. ”DaCosta.”
”Hey, Joan, it's Tom Paoletti. I'm glad I caught you.”
”No lunch today, huh?”
”Yeah, sorry about that. We'll have to reschedule. My timetable for a certain... project has just s.h.i.+fted, and...”
Joan shut off her curling iron. ”It's not a problem, Commander.”
”Good. I've made arrangements for you to have access to the base while we're gone through Lieutenant Steve McKinney, from the public affairs office.”
”Gone?” she repeated. We, he'd said. She stretched the headset cord so that she could again lean out of the bathroom and look at Muldoon. ”Are you going somewhere?” she asked.
Muldoon nodded while Tom answered. ”Training op. We'll be off base for about forty-eight hoursa”we'll be back before you know it. Steve's a nice guy. He'll be able to answer any questions and even help you set up some of those photo ops you're looking for.”
”Steve McKinney.” Joan went back into the bathroom and wrote the name on a piece of toilet paper with eyeliner, digesting what Tom had just told her. Muldoon was going to be gone for forty-eight hours. And when he came back, Brooke would be in town.
s.h.i.+t.
”I also wanted to leave you Kellya”my fianceasa”cell number,” Tom told her. ”She didn't want to call and bother you, but she asked me to let you know that she's having an impromptu dinnera”really casuala”at our place tonight. It's something some of the wives and girlfriends like to do when we go wheels up like this. She told me to tell you that you're welcome to join thema”you know, get a glimpse of that aspect of military life, if you want.”
”That's ... very nice,” Joan told him as she wrote down the number he rattled off. It was more than nice, it was brilliant. She could picture Brooke surrounded by a group of wholesome-looking young women, bonding over coffee. Myra was going to love that. ”I'll definitely give her a call.”
”Great. Again, I'm sorry about lunch.”
”You're forgiven.”
His laughter was a warm rumble in her ear. ”I'm glad. Look, Joan, as long as I have you on the phone ... I know Lieutenant Muldoon spoke to you about this, and I understand you don't have the authority to make these kinds of decisions, but I really think this is the wrong time for President Bryant to come out here to the base. I mean, a low-profile tour would be one thing, but for the kind of dog and pony show that the White House is looking to put together... ?”
”I'll do my best to see that your reservations are brought to the attention of as many decision makers as possible, Commander,” she told him. ”At least then you'll be on record. And if something does go wronga””
”I can say I told you so?” he interrupted. ”That's not what I'm looking for. That's not good enough.”
”I'm sorry, sir,” she said. ”But I just don't have the kind of influence to help you out.”
”Do the best you can,” he told her. ”And if you see Muldoon, tell him to get his b.u.t.t back to the base, ASAP.”
”Good lucka”wherever you're going,” Joan said.
”Thanks. Catch you later.”
Joan hung up the phone and went out of the bathroom.
Muldoon was still standing by the door.
”Is this really just a training op?” she asked him.
He looked her in the eye. ”Yes, it is.”
”Which is what you would tell me even if it wasn't, right?”
Muldoon nodded. ”Yeah. But this one really is training.”
”Which is also what you'd say,” she pointed out.
”Yeah.”
”Where are youa”
”I can't tell you. You know that.”
”Yes,” she said. ”Of course. I'm sorry. I'm just...”
He was looking at her a little too intently, so she forced a smile despite her sudden realization that any given moment this mana”and Cosmo and Gillman and Jenk and Sam Starrett and all of the other fabulous, wonderful men of Team Sixteen that she'd met over the past few daysa”might be thrust into any one of the numerous hot spots around the world where the U.S.'s Special Operations forces were going head-to-head with terrorists.
Forty-eight hours from any given moment, Joan could well be attending Mike Muldoon's funeral. She suddenly wanted to sit down, but she forced herself to stay standing, to keep smiling at him.
”You have my cell phone number, right?” he asked. ”In case you need me? I mean, I'm sure Steve McKinney will be able to handle any problems, but...”
”I'll be fine,” Joan told him. ”Just... be careful, okay?”
He took a step toward her, and she turned away, suddenly afraid of what he had seen in her eyes.
G.o.d, what had he seen in her eyes?
l.u.s.t? Probably, G.o.d help her. He certainly was attractive, with his quiet, clean strength and the intelligence that lurked in those pretty blue eyes.
Longing? For surea”and that was even worse than l.u.s.t. She could feel it still, bubbling within her, a rolling boil of feelings and emotions she was afraid to examine too closely for fear of what she might find.
It gave her a sense of immediacy, a sharp awareness that tomorrow was not always guaranteed.