The Farther Shore - Christie Golden [27]
If he was, she was literally living on borrowed time.
His eyes searched hers for a long moment. “All right. On one condition—that if there is something here bigger than finger-pointing, you call me in the minute you know anything. Do you promise?”
She nodded, vastly relieved. She would, of course, make that call when she had all the information.
“Okay.” He shifted uncomfortably on the jagged rocks. “I don’t suppose I can take you out for lunch?”
[78] “I don’t know that our being seen together is a wise idea right now. If something big is going down, and I go with it, you’ll need to be free from Covington’s suspicion to act.”
“If you were anyone else, I’d accuse you of melodrama,” he said. “But I know you too well. All right. Send me that information and I’ll have someone get on it immediately.”
Impulsively, she reached for his hand. “Thank you, Aidan,” she said, her heart full. “Thank you.”
Chapter 7
AFTER AIDAN had dematerialized, Libby walked on the beach for a while, absently picking up rocks made smooth by the ceaseless rhythm of the sea, caressing them, and then returning them to the ocean. The action calmed her thoughts. Yes, she was doing the right thing.
She returned to her little cabin in a better mood than when she had left it, but her tension returned when she saw there was a message.
“I hope it’s Harry,” she muttered under her breath. She tapped the screen and Covington’s face appeared.
“Hello, Agent Webber. Just wanted to check in and see how you were progressing with the material I sent you. I’ll want an update by this afternoon. And if I may offer some advice, woman to woman—it’s always a bad idea to date the boss.”
[80] She smiled and winked in a sisterly fashion, and then the screen went dark.
Libby almost couldn’t breathe. She had debated the necessity for putting up the dampening field at all, considering how isolated she and Aidan were. Now her legs went weak and she fell into the chair, her stomach churning. Thank God she had used the dampening field. Covington was still watching her.
She and Aidan hadn’t shouted their relationship from the rooftops, but they hadn’t made an effort to hide it, either. No doubt Covington knew they had once been involved. Thank God for that, too. All Covington suspected was that Libby was thinking of cheating on Harry, and she could handle that.
At least, Libby desperately hoped that was all that Covington suspected. Suddenly shaky and feeling extremely paranoid, she removed a small, round object from a drawer and began to check her room carefully for bugs.
Brenna Covington finished her message to Libby Webber, then leaned back in her chair and stretched. The man in her bed said, “God, I love it when you do that. You look just like a cat.”
Slowly, she turned and gave him a wide, sultry smile.
“You still here?” she teased. “Don’t you have things to do, misinformation to spread, quarrels to start, suspicions to plant?”
Commander Brian Grady stretched in the sheets, imitating her.
“Oh, yes. But you make it damned hard for a man to leave.” He beckoned lazily. “Come back to bed. We’ve both got time. Rank hath its privileges.”
[81] Resentment stirred faintly inside her. Brenna Covington knew how to give a lover pleasure, how to feign delight and lust and passion. She had learned those lessons well, from observation in her safe place deep inside. But no man’s caresses ever truly moved her.
The Hand had seen to that.
It took her utmost skill to not cringe from Grady’s caresses and kisses, to smile up into his face as if she was as enamored as he.
But it was not that he was a cruel or even an unskilled lover. Every man’s hand was the Hand. Her deliberate, calculated response of feigned desire was her revenge. She had used her body, tall, taut, and well-shaped, as