REUNIONS

Part III

By Linda Ryner

Seven months, Johann Gerlac reflected. It had been seven months since the disaster at L.A. Firm Headquarters. He had deliberately waited before making another move. Since the demise of his "mole", an entirely new security system had been installed on the computer system in each of the nationally-based Firm offices around the U.S. Routine background checks on new recruits had been fine-tuned to the point it would be foolhardy to send in another such agent. In all of his sixty-seven years, never had anything been so difficult to acquire -- for any of his private collections.

Enough time had passed. It was time for Alternative Two.

He darkened the room and picked up the remote to the slide projector before him, flicking it several times until he found the picture he wanted. The predatory smile creasing his features was nothing short of frightening.

She was lovely -- the true essence of Nordic bloodlines. Blonde, blue-eyed and the body of an Amazon goddess. No wonder Michael Coldsmith-Briggs had fallen in love with her those years ago.

Sonja Thormann was breathtaking at her current age of thirty-seven. Gerlac could well imagine the Deputy Director's predilection for the woman almost a decade and a half ago. She was precisely the tool Gerlac needed to get what he wanted.

His plan, as yet, was still not perfectly defined. To bring Sonja back over to the States must take priority, of course, and it must be very carefully staged so as not to arouse suspicion. In a week, it would be arranged with the Eastern Bloc officials he had in his pocket. He would interview the woman, negotiate with both her and her superiors and then work with her on a foolproof plan. He already had quite a bit of intimate knowledge of the adversaries that stood in his way. With Sonja's help and mercenary tendencies, Gerlac was certain he would be well-satisfied. With any luck, Mr. Coldsmith-Briggs would be planning a trip over to Eastern Germany himself. The reunion, after all, would be so touching.

The Deputy Director had a track record of taking on such personal assignments himself when it came to lost loves.

******************************

A WEEK LATER . . .

The message had come as quite a shock to Marella, but she couldn't discount its contents or authenticity. Michael's reaction to it hadn't been hard to judge, either. Even after almost fifteen years, she could understand what he must be feeling. Sonja Thormann was alive and well and the East Germans were prepared to negotiate a trade-off of prisoners. It was only a matter of hours before Michael secured, with The Committee's approval, the agents that East Germany wanted in exchange.

Michael had not been receptive to having Marella come with him to Checkpoint Charlie. He wanted her to stay in the States, where she could oversee his business until his return. By the following day, he was gone, heading up the exchange of prisoners himself.

Marella had been involved on various levels with exchanges before, but she had never been so uneasy about it until now. Knowing she risked disciplinary action if she left her post Stateside, she did the next best thing and sent two undercover operatives to keep an eye on her boss. She did it on her own authority and without Committee knowledge, knowing full well that if it were discovered there could be serious repercussions. It didn't matter. She'd regretted her decision to leave Michael's employ, had gone against her instincts to stay with him. This time, she was going to listen to that little voice she so often relied on.

******************************

St. John listened to the soft, pleading cries of the woman beneath him as they rocked in perfect rhythm. The rain and the distant sound of thunder lent an erotic electricity to the air of the darkened bedroom in Caitlin's apartment. Neither one of them had really planned for it to happen. Even though they'd been dating for awhile, St. John had never gone much beyond light petting with her, for more than one reason. For awhile, he even dated several other women, but inevitably was drawn back to Cait. There was something about her openness and vulnerability that touched him. The fact she had a brain and was such a damned fine pilot were two more plusses. He could tell she didn't give her heart easily; her confession about Ken Sawyer had convinced him of that and what she had suffered at the hands of such a monster angered him.

The forecast had been for rain; the skies had been overcast and being as it was the latter part of the rainy season, he supposed they should have allowed for it. The end result had been a disaster. In the middle of a delicious meal of hoagie sandwiches and potato salad, the downpour began. They raced back to Cait's car and finished their picnic on the floor of her living room, in the company of two stubby candles when the electricity went out.

Somehow, between dessert and the last glass of wine, he leaned over to kiss her as a streak of lightning split the dark sky. The following clap of thunder sent currents of energy through them and before St. John quite realized what he was doing, he had picked Caitlin up and was walking toward the bedroom. When he laid her down on the bed, expecting at least a little trepidation on her part, she reached for him unhesitatingly, pulling him down on top of her. Her perfume made him giddy and his body felt like it was on fire when her mouth touched his throat. He held her gently, his embrace firm, enjoying the sensation of her body undulating sensually against him.

"Cait, I want you," he breathed against her mouth, one hand sliding down over her hip.

"I know," she whispered back, untucking the shirt from his jeans. "I want you, too."

Her hands worked a magic on him he couldn't comprehend. She didn't just make love -- she made love with her entire self, and he realized he could do no less. He either had to give her everything he had, or stop this before it started.

Her moan shook him and St. John buried himself even more deeply inside her, wanting to elicit more such noise from the lovely, long white column that was her throat. Only when he felt her shuddering in uncontrollable spasms did he let himself go and experience his own intense climax.

When he regained his faculties, Caitlin was wrapped about him and he was still inside her. He felt her long, delicate fingers brush the hair from his eyes and the droplets of perspiration that had gathered on his brow. He captured his eyes with his, tracing her lower lip with his thumb, breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

"Good God, Cait," he said huskily. "I'm in love with you."

She turned so she lay on top of him, resting his chin on his chest in contentment. "After this, you'd better be!" she teased, then her eyes grew serious. "Thank you."

He grinned at her teasingly. "For the sex?"

"For helping me to trust again." She placed a kiss on the skin of his chest.

His arms closed about her and one hand riffled through her red mane. "I had to be sure, Cait. Otherwise, it wouldn't have taken me so long."

She laughed softly. "Well, I think we made up for lost time."

St. John chuckled. "Not quite. We still have the evening."

"You'll hurt yourself!" she told him, lifting herself up to look in his eyes. "And then there won't be anything left for later," she pouted slyly.

"You forget," he answered, tracing a finger down her nose to her chin. "I'm catching up. I've had to put up with almost eighteen years of celibacy."

Cait's eyes shimmered and then she lowered her mouth to his chest, showering velvety kisses over him. St. John closed his eyes, letting her take him out of himself yet again. When they finally lay exhausted together some time later, he slept soundly. And for once, his sleep was languid and peaceful, untainted by nightmares of the Vietnamese jungle and bamboo cages.

******************************

"It pisses me off, damn it." Hawke took a drink of his hot coffee as he watched Jackie walk inside the hangar with some oil and tubing. "Maybe Michael doesn't owe us any explanations when it comes to Firm business unrelated to Airwolf, but I can't believe he actually left without even giving Jackie a phone call. Even Marella was in such a turmoil, she didn't call Jackie to let her know until the next day. But at least she called."

"Must have been pretty important for him to leave without any word," Dom said, shaking his head and sharing a grim look with Caitlin. "How long has he been gone?"

"About four days," Hawke replied. "Something about a prisoner exchange. That prisoner must be damn valuable for him to just up and leave like that." He sighed, watching as his protegee slipped under a helicopter. "She's pretty upset, but she's hiding it well."

"Can't say I blame her," Cait said. "I'd be pissed off and probably give it to him with both barrels when he got back here."

St. John shrugged. "Michael may have had his reasons. But I can't imagine what the urgency would be for a prisoner exchange. He could've sent someone else to do it."

"Well, we're about to see how Jacks is going to handle it. Here comes The Man From Glad now," Dom said, jerking his thumb toward the opposite window.

The female chauffeur opened the door to the white limo outside and Marella emerged from the interior, followed by Archangel and then by a gorgeous, tall blonde woman, also dressed in white. Michael assisted her courteously, one arm resting lightly around her shoulders. Dom and Hawke looked at each other and Cait's eyes were full of consternation. The white-clad trio didn't knock, entering the small office without invitation. Michael had a wide smile on his face as they gathered just inside the doorway.

"So, the prodigal son returns," Dominic Santini commented sarcastically. "Ever hear of picking up the phone and giving a hint as to where you were going to disappear to for days at a time?"

Michael chuckled. "Why, Dominic. I didn't know you considered yourself my surrogate father." Michael indicated the empty chair in front of Dom's desk and Sonja sat down, taking in all the faces with a practiced eye.

"If I was your father, I'd slap you up the side of the head!" Dominic sniped. "Being as there's ladies present, I'll restrain myself."

The door opened again and Jackie, clad in grease-smeared, light green overalls, bustled in, unnoticing of the new arrivals in her hurried dash for the pot of coffee.

"Finally found that leaky line," she announced after pouring herself a cup and taking a long swallow. She turned around and stopped short. Hawke was afraid she was going to drop the cup, but she didn't. It took bare seconds before a mask of control slipped over her expression of surprise. "Hello, Michael," she greeted evenly, eyes gripping his. "Break your fingers?"

He momentarily looked down at his hand, frowning. "No. What . . .?"

Just as it dawned on him, Jackie moved over to String's side, leaning against him. "You're looking good, Sonja," she addressed the blonde woman, wiping off her hand with a rag and extending it to her. At the mention of the woman's name, Dom, String, Cait and St. John all exchanged looks.

Sonja took Jackie's hand, surprised. "You're . . . Jackie! Of course! The last time I saw you, you were fourteen and just getting braces off your teeth!" She smiled and shook her hand warmly. "You've become quite a young lady. Michael's apprised me of your prowess as a pilot -- and tells me you work for him now?"

Jackie didn't reply, but turned her eyes back on the Deputy Director. "No wonder you were so busy. I guess the exchange went well."

"Time was of the essence, otherwise I would have phoned you," Michael said, weathering her stone face. "And yes, it went very well." He approached her, extending an arm to place about her shoulders.

"I'll get your suit dirty," Jackie replied coolly, pointedly moving away. "Has Michael introduced you all to Sonja Thormann, then?"

"Actually, formal introductions were never made," the blonde beauty replied huskily.

Michael quickly rectified the situation and then began to recount the European sojourn, his narrative picked up every so often by both Marella and Sonja. Jackie watched quietly from her corner as the other woman would alternately gaze up at Michael or take his hand in hers. Every so often, from his standing position, Michael would drape an arm about Sonja's shoulders. Finally, after quite a stretch of quiet observation, Jackie wordlessly moved around them to head out the door.

"Where are you going?" Michael called to her, beginning to follow.

"I'm on the clock. I have some things to finish up." She tossed her head a little arrogantly. "You can tell me all about it later -- if you can work it into your schedule."

Hawke watched as she disappeared, a soft chuckle leaving his lips. He caught Michael's gaze as he turned back around. A wordless communication traveled between the two.

"I'll . . . be back," Michael said distractedly, following Jackie's small figure with his eyes. "I think I've neglected something very important."

******************************

Once inside the hangar, Jackie threw herself up against the chopper, fingers digging into the cold, smooth surface. She fought to keep her face a rigid mask and took no pleasure in the soaring, roiling emotions that flooded her. After long moments, she backed away from the craft, making herself breathe deep and evenly.

"Chill," she ordered herself. "So he didn't let you know he went over to effect the exchange himself. So he didn't call when he got back. So he stuck Sonja right under your nose. It doesn't give you cause to find him guilty of anything but caring about a woman who . . . who . . ."

Who had once been the love of his life.

Jackie held her hands out in front of her, watching as they trembled. Grimacing with determination, she forced the tremors to cease and finally released the breath she had been holding. She picked up a wrench from the toolbox, intending to get back to work; without warning, a stab of agony shot through her, as painful as any severe cramp, and in a moment of raging anger, she threw the tool forcefully on the ground, listening to the ringing clank on the concrete. Fists clenched ot her sides, she stared at it for a long moment; then, as the rage ebbed, she reached down to pick it up. Straightening, she approached the rear of the chopper.

"Jackie."

The sound of Michael's voice froze her. Slowly, she turned toward where he stood, not twenty feet away. She drew herself up straight and even managed a smile. "Thought you were still recounting your adventure," she said."

He closed the space between them in a few steps. In his face was deep concern. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." Her gaze met his. "I'm a little upset with you for not telling me where you went off to and I worried all the time you were gone, but I'm OK. I figured you must have had your reasons."

Michael's face softened and he caressed her cheek with his long fingers. "I should have called you. I was very remiss in my obligations. Forgive me."

She stepped back from his hand. "It's . . . OK. Don't worry about it. I'm . . . glad Sonja's back, Michael." The expression in Michael's face was unreadable but Jackie had to turn around for fear of breaking down in front of him. "I've got work to do."

"Jackie, wait a minute."

Again, she turned, finding herself face-to-face with him. Her eyes slowly lifted to his.

"I never said goodbye to you," he told her softly, arms slipping lightly and securely around her waist, unmindful of the black grease that stained her coverall. "At least let me say hello."

Her hands clutched at his jacket when his mouth encompassed hers, the wrench slipping out of her grasp to fall on the concrete floor once more with an echoing ring. Her prevailing thought as she lost herself in the kiss was that in all this time, they'd never slept together. They'd come close several times, but had always put the brakes on somewhere midway between second and third base, always stopping short of fulfillment. Michael was being very careful and so was she. Sometimes being so careful was frustrating as hell.

Right now, this minute, all she could think about was making love to him, letting the roaring passion take over. A throaty moan escaped her as he slid one hand up from her waist to cup under her breast, thumb teasing lightly over the nipple; he squeezed it tenderly, pulling his lips from hers and kissing her ear.

"Hello," he greeted her in a sensuous tone, backing her up discreetly against the hulk of the chopper.

A small cry erupted from her lips; her hand went to the front of the coverall she wore, pulling the zipper downward. She heard his sharp intake of breath when she brought his hand inside the garment. His fingers encountered the lacy material of her brassiere, found the edge of the cup and burrowed beneath to caress the warm, bare flesh of her breast. The nipple jumped to life and Michael continued his caressing.

"I missed you," she whispered tightly.

"I missed you more," he replied raggedly. Gently, with reluctance, he removed his hand, pulling the front zipper back up. He placed his hands on either side of her face, gaze penetrating hers. "I went over because of Sonja," he told her steadily, respirations heightened. "But I came back because of you."

"Thank you," she told him quietly. "I really needed to hear that."

"I know," he acknowledged softly. "And you need to hear this. You are not competing against anyone. Do you understand? There is no one to compete against." He held her tightly, resting his cheek on top of her dark head. "Let me make this up to you."

She leaned back, hands creeping up his chest to smooth the material of his jacket. She had colored deeply at his amorous attention. "What do you have in mind?" She couldn't quite look him in the eye.

He tipped her chin up with a finger. She had never seen such tenderness in his face. "You come up to the penthouse tonight, about seven-thirty," he told her huskily. "And wear something very sexy."

She moved closer, arms going around his waist. "How sexy?"

He leaned down, catching her mouth in a forceful kiss. When he straightened, there was no mistaking the fire in his eye. "Sinfully so." His hands caught in the burnished brunette folds of her hair. "Just make sure it's something one has a minimal amount of difficulty taking off." Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. A sly, half-smile graced Michael's features. He placed a last, lingering kiss on her mouth. "I love you," he said against her lips, before taking his leave of her and heading back toward the office.

She had to lean up against the chopper for support when Michael left. Her eyes closed and she let out a shuddering breath. Her entire body was on fire.

She sighed, body clenching against her turn-on. "How does that man manage to reduce me to quivering jelly at will?"

It was a good five minutes before she stopped shaking enough to finish work on the chopper.

******************************

Sonja Thormann assessed herself in the full-length mirror critically, more than confident that once she was alone with Michael Coldsmith-Briggs, she would have little difficulty seducing him into her bed. As enamored of his former goddaughter as he was, they had a history, one that had been very intense, very sexual, running very deep. She had done what no other woman had been able to do -- extract a proposal of marriage from the Deputy Director of The Firm.

That Jackie and Michael's relationship had progressed beyond that of the original father/daughter aspect was not surprising. Jackie was beautiful, intelligent, hot-headed -- but also vulnerable. She made no secret of the fact that she wanted a man in her life and it was very plain who she wanted that man to be. Jackie had disliked Sonja from Day One, simply because she posed a perceived threat to her relationship with Michael. From the time she was a preteen, Sonja had looked upon her as no more than an annoyance, something that had to be endured if she were to keep in Michael's good graces. Then, she had been no threat, not really. Now, she posed one of the biggest obstacles. But Sonja had the greatest of confidence -- and vanity -- that even though her rival had youth, beauty, intelligence and a long, shared history with Michael, winning her former lover's affections back would be easy enough to do.

The East German woman had not lost her looks or her figure. Luring Michael back into bed was not what she was worried about. The challenge was establishing enough trust to become one of his top ops again in a fairly short amount of time -- long enough to discover the whereabouts of Airwolf's hiding place. Although Michael denied to everyone that he knew the location of the sleek helicopter, Sonja knew enough about Michael to realize he knew precisely where it was. Michael hadn't become Deputy Director of The Firm for nothing. It simply was to his advantage not to tell anyone to maintain the use of the Miracle Machine.

Her employer, Gerlac, had done a very good job of orchestrating things. Sonja had played her part of political prisoner to the hilt, was certain of her current credibility in Michael's eyes. Her East German government had been amiable leasing her to Gerlac for a price; Sonja, too, would be paid handsomely for her part in this operation, enough to retire for the rest of her life in luxury and comfort. The face in the mirror lost some of it's proud smile and a stab of regret went through the agent.

She would always regret leaving Michael. When it had been found that her mole status had been compromised by her intimate involvement with the Deputy Director, she had been called back. She had tried to reason with her superiors, tried to tell them that her position would actually be safe so close to Michael. But someone in her government had decided, based on her psychiatric profile and past failures in her personal life, that she could conceivably be discovered. With her identity known, she would have no more value to her government as a mole; thus on the first European field project, which had by chance been near East Germany, Sonja had conveniently 'disappeared.'

She understood her superiors' action now. They quite posssibly were right. At any rate, she must remain as impersonal as possible. She was being paid to do a job.

Earlier, she had stolen a look at Michael's personal calendar, discovering the evening dinner he was planning to have with Jackie that evening at the penthouse. She took one last look at herself in the long black negligee and robe, mussed her hair a bit, rubbed her cheeks to redden them. She would make the tears fall after her phone call to Michael. By now, they would be through with dinner, perhaps embarking upon something even more delicious. With a smug smile, she picked up the phone and began to dial.

******************************

Michael breathed in Jackie's Chanel No. 5 as they danced slowly to the Righteous Brothers' Unchained Melody. For the first time in months, he was truly content. The world had stopped for a little while as long as he was up here in the penthouse with her. No outside intrusions unless absolutely necessary. Warmth spreading to every corner of the suite. It was lovely, it was heaven, it was about damn time.

"What do you think of Hawaii?" he queried softly. "We've put our trip off since my shooting. We've been so busy trying to put a normal spin on things again, that this trip has taken a back seat to everything else." When she didn't answer, he said, "Anytime before mid-May, and we'll beat tourist season. The Firm has a house right on a secluded piece of beach just north of Honolulu. We could be there in just a few hours."

"Hawaii sounds wonderful," she sighed into his shoulder. "It doesn't matter where. As long as I can be with you."

"We could have dinner privately catered," he intimated softly, "down on the private beach."

"Or we could go to a luau," she suggested with a smile, "and then walk along the sand with a big, bright full moon."

"After-dinner brandies by a roaring fireplace," he murmured against her hair.

"Mai-tais on a cocktail cruise around Diamond Head." Her hand riffled the hair at his collarline.

"Lovemaking by candlelight on a king-size waterbed."

"Mmm. On a blanket on the beach down with the water lapping at our bodies." Her breath was hot against his throat.

One of his hands slid over her hip, then downward, around her buttock, pulling her hips into his. "Are you as incredibly turned on as I am?"

"More," she answered, voice cracking a little, arms locking around his neck.

"More, hm?" His fingers went to the zipper on the back of the sleek emerald-green sheathe she wore, pulling the tab down with infinite slowness, watching her eyes almost glow with desire. He could tell she was holding her breath, letting it out only when the dress separated down to the small of her back.

He kissed her eyes, mouth lingering sensually on the lids; his hands pulled the fabric down to her waist, and he smiled when he realized she wore no brassiere. His mouth slid along her cheek and down her jawline as his hands cupped her breasts, squeezing the flesh gently. When his lips caught hers, the resulting surge of desire threatened to overwhelm them both.

"Make love with me," he breathed into her mouth. "I don't want another night to go by guessing what it's going to be like being with you . . ."

"Yes," she acquiesced with a small gasp. "Yes, Michael. Tell me what you want me to do . . ."

With a finesse he was surprised he possessed, Michael lifted her into his arms, holding her for a moment, lips grazing hers. His steps were deliberate, taking them from the muted light of the outer room to the darkness of the master bedroom. He followed her down on the mattress, one arm above her head, gazing down on her.

Her hands slid up his chest, unfastening the buttons of his shirt. Her gestures were unhurried and he didn't rush her. He wanted to remember every detail -- every nuance of expression, every caress, every breath. The shirt hung open and she pulled it out from the beltline, hands sliding over the warm flesh of his back beneath the material, nails raking slightly. He flexed his shoulders, eyes closing momentarily.

"I love your hands," he murmured, shrugging out of the shirt and letting it drop to the floor. He took one of her hands in his, bringing it around and down, so she could feel his arousal through the pants.

"Oh, God." Her breath came in soft, short gasps as she stroked. He unzipped his pants and she needed no prodding. Her hand slipped inside, contacting bare flesh and he jumped at the sensation, sighing as his mouth sank down to the beckoning breasts.

After a few moments, he returned his mouth to hers, settling between her legs despite their clothes and pushing his hips hard against hers. He bit his lips when he felt her legs lift and fasten about his waist.

"God, this is excruciating," he said tightly.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. She kicked off her shoes. "Here . . ." She lifted up a little, pulling the hemline of her dress up to her waist. His hands wandered to assist her and he started when his hands encountered the bare skin of her hips.

"You didn't wear any underwear!" he discovered, shocked but inordinately delighted.

Jackie couldn't help but laugh softly at his expression. "You bring out the bad girl in me, Michael."

"I'm in for it tonight, aren't I?" he asked, pleased. "What have I released here?"

"A shewolf," Jackie replied, eyes sparkling. "The wanton, underlying animal. Do you think you can tame her?"

"I think I'm gonna have a hell of a good time trying." His kiss was almost brutal. "Or maybe I'll let her have her way with me."

"Promise?" She kissed him back, and Michael lost himself in the kiss, groaning his pleasure as her tongue snaked over the roof of his mouth.

A shrillness sounded. It took Michael about ten seconds to realize it was the phone. Through his haze, he was almost too far gone to be aware of it, especially when Jackie pulled him back down into another hot, dizzying kiss. The ringing ceased but the message could be heard.

"Michael!" The familiar voice punched through his fog. "Michael, please pick up!"

A woman's voice -- near tears. It dug into his consciousness and both he and Jackie rose up on their elbows when they heard it.

"Michael, please, it's me! It's Sonja! Please pick up!"

Dazed, Michael looked down at Jackie, momentarily at a loss of what to do. Jackie made the decision for him, struggling from beneath him, regaining her feet to let the dress slip down to her knees and pulling the zipper back up the back.

"Answer the phone, Michael." Her voice was level, but he caught the snap of fury in her eyes.

Disheveled, he rose also, zipping up his pants as he went to the bedside phone. "Don't leave," he mouthed to her, but she was already going out to the front room. Frustrated, he picked up the receiver. "This is Michael."

"I . . . Michael, I'm sorry!" Sonja cried, almost hysterical.

"What is it, Sonja? What's wrong?" Michael's tried to inflect a tone of patience in his voice.

"I'm . . . I'm so sorry!" came her voice, near tears. "I wouldn't have even called you, but . . . the nightmares, Michael. I have such nightmares! The tranquilizers haven't even helped! Please . . . will you come over? I've always felt so safe with you . . ."

Guiltily, Michael looked up, seeing that his dinner date was dressed and making ready to leave. He let out a deep sigh. "Sonja, this isn't the best time . . ."

"Please, Michael!" She was begging now. "Please, don't say no! I know this sounds silly, but . . . I honestly don't know if I can make it through tonight . . ."

"All right. All right, calm down, Sonja. Give me a few minutes. I'll be there in . . . half an hour."

"Thank you, Michael . . . I don't know how . . ."

"I'll be right there," he cut her off. The silence that now hung in the air was palpable. He sensed Jackie's resentment and couldn't blame her. "I'm sorry." His voice was low.

She slid beside him on the bed, hair mussed. "It's all right, Michael. Do what you have to do."

"Why are you letting me off the hook so easily?" He slipped an arm around her. "You should be clawing my good eye out."

"You wrote me a thirty-odd page letter so I could try to understand you a little better as a man and an individual," she reminded him softly. "I've never begrudged you your women, Michael. You've never begrudged me my men. We've both hated it at different stages in our lives, maybe even for different reasons. But the fact remains -- you were engaged to Sonja once. Who knows, maybe she really even needs you tonight. You can't just turn your feelings off for someone you were that close to. You were going to get married, for God's sake."

"It doesn't bother you I'm heading over to see Sonja."

"Hell, yes, it bothers me. I don't like it, but it's not my call to make."

"I see. You understand it, but you don't like it."

"Pretty much. What else is new?" She rose. "I have a heavy schedule with Santini Air this week. Call me."

"You know I will. Thank you, sweetheart. I love you."

"I love you too, Michael."

He saw her to the door. "I can walk you to your car," he offered quietly.

She shook her head. "You don't have to." She rose up on her toes and placed a kiss on his lips. "It's been wonderful, as always."

The guilt he felt did not diminish even after she disappeared inside the elevator.

"It could have been better," he sighed, frustrated.

With another heavy sigh, Michael called the limo pool at Knightsbridge and waited.

******************************

Dominic Santini was surprised to see Jackie Kendricks on his doorstep at ten-thirty at night, dressed to kill. He'd just settled down to watch some late-night TV with a bowl of popcorn and a Fresca but invited her in. Santini's apartment could best be described as spartan in appearance. Except for some pictures on the walls that were mostly photographs, he didn't have many extra knick-knacks around. The only exception to that was his kitchen, which was about as warm and homey as an Italian kitchen could get.

"Kind of an early night for you, isn't it?" he asked gently, as they settled down on the comfy sofa. "I thought you usually howled until at least two, sometimes later."

"Yeah, well," Jackie replied in a low voice. "Things don't always work out the way you want them to. You know how it is, dating the Deputy Director of the Firm. You have to be ready for anything."

"Can't say as I have first-hand knowledge," Dom chortled, "but I'll take your word." He stuffed some popcorn into his mouth. "What's the matter, Zeus call a late-night meeting again?"

Jackie didn't answer right away. "One of Michael's ops was having . . . a little trouble. Personal problems."

"Since when is Michael a counselor?"

"Since the operative in question is Sonja Thormann."

Uh-oh. Dominic looked over at the young woman by his side.

"You OK with it?"

"Not totally. I'll get over it."

"You afraid Michael's gonna cheat on you with her?"

"Silly, isn't it?"

"Yes and no. I think I know enough about Michael's nature to tell you that it won't happen. But I can understand why you'd be a little insecure."

"That's just it, Dominic. I shouldn't be insecure. Michael's told me time after time I'm not competing. But I take one look at Sonja and then look at myself and I wonder how Michael could even WANT me when he could have someone like Sonja."

"Why? Because she has blonde good looks? Because she just happened to be engaged to Michael first?"

"Michael and I aren't engaged, Dominic."

"Not yet. You've hardly had a chance to have a normal courtship!" Dom passed the bowl of popcorn to her. "Look, Jacks. So you're not a WASP. So what? You think Michael loves you for your looks alone?"

"She's sophisticated. She's statuesque. She was never a tomboy. She's ultra-intelligent. She comes off like a fucking . . . excuse me . . . frigging queen!"

"So do you. And you know what? You're more adaptable."

"I'm a kid."

"Now that's insecurity talking," Dom said, frowning in irritation. "You're no kid. Nobody thinks that. Michael sure doesn't. You've had to do plenty of growing up in a short time, and that's an accomplishment. You should be proud of yourself."

Jackie smiled a little. "Whenever I need an ego-boost, all I have to do is look for Dominic Santini."

"Yeah, I'm pretty good at that," Dominic agreed with a grin. "Hey, you wanna watch In The Heat Of The Night?"

"Rod Steiger?"

"You betcha."

"I'll go make another bowl of popcorn."

It was almost two a.m. when Jackie was getting up to leave, after doing Dom's few dishes that were in the sink. The pilot wandered into the kitchen as she was hanging up the dishtowel.

"Sure you don't want to bunk in the extra room?" Dom asked.

"Thanks, but I can make it home OK," she returned, grateful for Dominic's invitation nonetheless.

"Give me a quick call when you get home, just so I know you got there all right," Dom told her.

"You old mother hen." Jackie placed a kiss on his leathery cheek. "That's one of the many reasons I love you, Dom. You're the daddy I never had."

Dominic blushed, then gave her a bearhug. "Well, then, take some fatherly advice and don't worry about Michael's intentions. You've got 'im, Jacks. Absolutely no question."

******************************

You've got 'im, Jacks. Absolutely no question.

Those words stuck in her head like a broken record when she picked up the celebrity section of the L.A. Times three days later and saw a photograph of Michael exiting from a white limo with Sonja Thormann on his arm.

Michael led an active social life. Even if he hadn't been Deputy Director of the Firm, the press and papparazi favored him because of his influential family celebrity, like they did The Kennedy Clan. Michael tended to downplay his position in the government since he knew that coming to the attention of the public eye was inevitable. But Michael was definitely noticed -- tabloid tallys of all the beautiful women he partnered with was a favorite pasttime of the scandal rags and celebrity magazines. Jackie had been photographed in such circumstances with him, more times than she could count.

"The ballet," she murmured against her knuckles as she drank her coffee and read the details. "Damn it, Michael, the ballet was always ours. Why did you have to take her to THAT?"

Disgusted, she threw the paper aside. She'd wanted to believe Dominic's statements. Jackie didn't see how she could, now. Michael hadn't even called her. Not for three lousy days. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised.

In the shower, she couldn't discern her hot tears from the water droplets. Her shower lasted a little longer than normal, the hot water sizzling against her skin. She didn't emerge until she felt thoroughly clean. As she dried off, her anger and hurt reasserted. She rubbed herself vigorously with a towel, her skin becoming a deeper shade of ruddy than the hot water had made it.

She wrapped a silk robe around herself, padding barefoot into the front room.

"You're not competing, he says," Jackie muttered to herself. "Yeah, right."

"Good morning to you, too."

She jerked, head snapping around. Michael sat at her kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and reading the front section of the paper. She scowled at him.

"You've got your nerve," she sniped angrily.

"I've got a key to your place, remember?" he answered. "I can give it back to you if you'd rather."

Jackie opened her refrigerator door and took out some eggs. "Under the circumstances, I think that might be a good idea."

"My, my. Aren't we in a wonderful mood this morning."

"Go to hell!" She cracked the eggs with a vengeance into the frying pan.

She heard him put the paper down, felt it when he came up right behind her and placed his hands on her waist.

"Don't." Her voice was low, angry.

"You must've picked up the celebrity news section."

"Well, well, well. Score two for the Man From Glad."

"And I haven't called."

"I've been busy anyway."

His hands went to her shoulders and she stiffened. "I was balancing my division on one hand, trying to keep Sonja sane on the other and I guess hoping you'd understand, no matter what you read in the tabloids."

She was quiet for a moment, the only sound coming from the frying pan. She turned the heat down on the stove. "All right. I'm waiting."

"Why are you so upset? Didn't I tell you . . ."

"Yeah, yeah, you told me! And I'm still trying to believe it."

"Believe it . . . or believe me?"

She moved away, walking slowly over to the picture window that led out on the back deck. "Ever since I can remember, you'd always made the headlines with beautiful women, Michael. Dad used to tease me about it all the time. He knew what a huge crush I had on you." She felt his arm slip around her waist but swung away from him. "I've watched you date these women -- and I know you've slept with some of them -- and I look at them and then look at me and wonder . . ." She broke off, half-mortified that she would even be verbalizing her innermost fears to him.

"Stop it," Michael broke in a little harshly. "There is no comparison. I've had relationships with a lot fewer of those women than you think. Maybe taking Sonja to the ballet Wednesday night wasn't the thing to do, Jackie, but I thought maybe a night out would do her some good. I've introduced her around, she's met some people . . . I didn't think this would be so upsetting to you because I thought you knew that I love you."

She blinked back tears. "Well, then, I guess I'm not as grown up as everyone thought."

"Hey." This time when his arms went about her, she didn't resist. "You're allowed a few tantrums. You're a jealous woman." He chuckled. "And, at the risk of your wrath, I think I rather like it."

"Pig." But Jackie couldn't help the smile that threatened her lips.

"You like a little of the male chauvinist in me, don't tell me you don't," he said, voice low, in her ear.

"Watch it, Michael. You just might end up on your ass."

"Oh, yeah? Who's gonna put me there?"

"Me!" Jackie turned, pummeling him off balance so he ended up on the sofa.

"OK, I give!" Michael surrendered, laughing. "You win!" His arms were like solid steel around her. Jackie stopped her pummeling and looked down into his face. "My goodness, my dear," Michael almost purred, expression lustful. "Just look at the position we're in." He reached a hand up, smoothing back the damp hair from her face as it hung down. His eyes softened as he gazed at her. "You were really worried, weren't you?" he asked, almost amazed.

"I'm not Sonja," she told him softly.

He sat up suddenly, frowning. His hands went to her face. "What on earth made you say that? Do you think I expect you to be her?"

"She's everything you wanted in a woman. I'm almost the exact opposite."

"Well, then, you don't know me very well. What is it about yourself that you think is so terrible?"

"It's not just one thing . . ."

"Spill it, sweetheart. Why does Sonja make you feel so inadequate?"

"She's beautiful, Michael." Jackie closed her eyes, felt herself being pulled into his chest. "She's one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen. She's got blonde good looks . . ."

"You've got dark good looks."

"She's terribly intelligent . . ."

"You finished high school at thirteen and started college courses the next fall at the Academy. You keep up with world events almost as well as I do. There's nothing unintelligent about you."

"She carries herself off like a true lady . . ."

"So do you, when the occasion calls for it."

"And she's probably a demon in the sack."

"That she was. From what we've experienced so far, I'd say you're better than she is, and we haven't even had actual sex yet." Michael paused. "Is that what you're worried about? That you're not as attractive, intelligent or refined as she is? Sweetheart, every woman has her own beauty. I won't insult your intelligence and tell you looks don't matter to me because they do, to a certain extent. But that isn't why I'm in love with you. Just because you're a brunette instead of a blonde and five-four as opposed to five-nine and would rather be pulling the guts from a chopper or a Piper than boning up on all the newest fashion trends and fads doesn't make you less of a woman in my eyes."

"Just answer me one question, Michael . . ."

"No." He leaned back, gaze locked to hers. "I haven't slept with her. I can't prove it, you have only my word. That evening I went to comfort her, that's exactly what happened. I spent most of the night on the sofa with her. The invitation was there. She made no secret of the fact she wanted me. And I won't say I wasn't tempted because you'd know I was lying. But we never ended up in bed. She tried again the night we went to the ballet. I told her no."

Jackie rubbed the fabric of his suitcoat between her fingers, silent, breathing quietly. She felt ashamed that her trust of Michael -- whom she had never had any reason to doubt -- had been all but non-existent. Suddenly, her shoulders heaved and the sob that had been holding position in the base of her throat erupted from her mouth.

"I can't believe I was so stupid!"

He stroked her hair soothingly. "Shhh. It's all right, sweetheart."

"It's not all right. I didn't trust you. You're the person I can trust the most in the world, and I doubted you."

"Well, now you know there's no reason for doubt. Right?"

"I will never doubt you again. I'm sorry, Michael." She tried to stem her tears. "I . . . can't stand the thought of losing you."

"You won't." He kissed the top of her head, then leaned back, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. "Dry those eyes, angel. You have to be presentable for your houseguests that should be arriving . . . oh, right about now."

"Houseguests?" She looked bewildered.

"I talked Dom into closing up shop today and took it upon myself to invite the whole gang over for a little R&R here -- you know, meat on the grill, volleyball, pina coladas -- like the get-togethers we used to have. Too bad it's not quite the weather for swimming. Oh, Marella and Sam are coming, too."

"Wh-why? Why all this?"

"Why not?" He grinned. "We all could use the distraction. Besides, if we're all going to be friends, it's time we started acting like it."

Suddenly, she pulled away and got to her feet, heading to the kitchen. Michael followed, snagging her wrist to pull her back. "What are you doing?"

"I've got people coming over! I've got to start throwing some food together!" she told him.

He shook his head. "Food items already taken care of, right down to the beer and wine coolers. All you need to do is go slip into something casual." He smiled a little. "Or let me help you slip into something more casual."

Jackie ducked her head under his arm with a smile of her own. "Yeah? And what do you suppose might happen if everyone came when you're . . . uhm . . . assisting me with my wardrobe?"

The sound of tires on gravel sounded, arresting Michael's comment, and String's jeep pulled up around the side of the house, followed by a white Lincoln Town Car driven by Marella. Jackie opened the sliding glass door wide and put in in lock position, then began wheeling out the grill and charcoal briquettes.

"Hey, hey!" Dom greeted her, grabbing her up in a bearhug. "What a view you got!"

"Yeah, it's nice," she agreed, standing back from him and pulling her robe more securely around her. "Soon as I get some clothes on, I'll help you guys set up. Michael sprang this on me only now."

Cait hefted a cooler up on the deck. "We got it all covered, Jacks! C'mon, we're setting this up -- hurry up and get dressed so you can have a beer!"

"In the morning?" She smiled nonetheless, remembering well having scarfed a few beers down in her lifetime way before noon.

"It's almost eleven-thirty," String said, hoisting another cooler up. "Hurry up, slowpoke, everyone else is ready to start grilling some cow, pig and fish."

By the time she'd slipped into a fisherman's sweater and dungarees with sandals, St. John had the grill going and Cait and Marella were in her kitchen, whipping up a marinade and getting the rest of the food ready. She saw that the extra deck chairs had been pulled out and the picnic table already spread with a plastic cover, plates, silver and food items. She smelled the corn on the cob boiling in the kitchen and wandered out where Cait and Marella were.

"I've got a whole sack full of beefsteak tomatoes in the fridge," she offered. "Shall I slice 'em up on a platter?"

"I'll do it, Jacks," Cait told her. "Go grab yourself a beer or cooler and relax."

Shrugging, she wandered back out to the deck, grabbing a Heineken from the cooler, then moving to sit in one of the lounge chairs beside Michael, listening to Chuck Mangione's La Sagrada Familia on the boom box Sam brought. The operative looked cool and casual in a white knit sweater and white jeans and deck shoes, letting down with a winecooler. Michael leaned forward from his seat and took another swallow of his beer.

"Remember my grandad's house on Cape Cod?" Michael asked, staring wistfully out at the ocean.

"Mmmm. Miles of beach and surf." Jackie sighed. "But colder. I like California."

"Me, too." He looked over at her thoughtfully. "I'd always hoped you'd come out here. I was never really sure you would."

"OK, steak orders for those eatin' it!" Dom called. "Let's hear 'em!"

"Medium rare!" Sam ordered.

"Same here," Michael said.

"A minute-and-a-half each side for mine!" Jackie called out.

"Yeah, yeah, we know -- have your cow just run through the fire, hooves still intact!" St. John stated with a laugh.

Everybody sang out grill orders to Dom and St. John as the rest of the food was put on the table. Jackie shook her head at the food, then chuckled. It would get eaten, no doubts about that. It was a colorful summer display and she thought to herself how grateful she should be for the bounty of friends that gathered. Whatever had prompted Michael to bring them all together, it had been a great idea.

The last time she remembered a feed like this was about four years ago, shortly after successful testing of the Gypsy, another project her parents had worked on, sans laser. They'd had a regular cowboy feast at Michael's ranch with her parents, the project team members, some of Michael's operatives, various technicians who'd manned the testing site and the other pilots in training. Some people she knew, most of them she didn't. In this rare instance, she'd gloried in her parents praise and attention, almost feeling as though she were their daughter. All too soon it came to an end. When the party started petering out with people leaving, she'd suggested a vacation to Hawaii to her folks for a break; but they were scheduled to fly to the UK to meet with some representatives from the RAF as consultants on a new plane being develped. Bitterly disappointed, she'd disappeared with a bottle of Dom Perignon. One of Michael's cowhands, Dennis, found her up in the hayloft with the empty bottle, passed out and dead to the world. Michael kept her there for the next couple of days to get over her hangover, then walked in the door on the second afternoon and told her to pack some essentials, they were going to Hawaii -- just the two of them.

Being with Michael was always special and exciting and fun -- and always memorable. But just once it would have been nice to spend some uninterrupted time with her folks. That's the one thing she'd always wanted -- and the one thing she never got.

"OK, let's eat!" St. John announced, placing a platter of T-bones on the table.

Dinner was wonderful -- cucumber salad, beefsteak tomatoes, corn on the cob, red-jacket potatoes dripping with garlic butter, watermelon, strawberries and little lemon tarts to go with the grilled meat. It was enough food to feed a regiment. Later, after a watermelon seed spitting contest started by Caitlin at the table, the leftover food was put away and the table cleared. Jackie insisted they leave the dishes and relax outside as the afternoon shadows lengthened. Mangione switched to some soft rock and when the Pointer Sisters came on with 'Slow Hand', Michael got to his feet and held his hand out to Jackie. Pretty soon, St. John and Cait, String and Marella and Sam and Dom were following suit, dancing to the strains. Sam was laughing at one of Santini's stories as they danced actively around; String took Marella in a dip and Cait and St. John were dancing so close you couldn't slip a sheet of paper between them.

"Thank you," she said, looking up into Michael's face. "This was a perfect afternoon with good friends."

"How would you like to make it a perfect night, too?" There was no mistaking the tone of his voice.

She blushed a little. "You don't have stuff to finish up at the office tonight?"

"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow."

"Did you pack your pajamas and a toothbrush?" Her eyes danced.

"I brought my overnight bag with me. Toothbrush is there. I don't need pajamas, do I?"

"Planning on sleeping in the nude?"

"Actually, I don't plan on doing much sleeping at all."

"You're making me horny."

"That's the general idea." They stopped dancing and Michael brought a hand up to her face. "You are so incredibly beautiful."

The heat of his kiss made Jackie weak in the knees and her arms locked around his neck, if only to keep herself from falling to the floor.

"I can't even think when you kiss me like that," she breathed afterward.

"That's because you're not supposed to think when I'm kissing you." He kissed her again, warmly. "You're just supposed to kiss me back."

"Hey, hey, hey, public display of affection at nine o'clock!" Marella teased laughingly.

Jackie's blush went all the way down below her neckline and she smiled. "After all this time, I'm entitled," she sniped back playfully. "You want public display? I'll give you public display." She pulled Michael down into a deep, open-mouthed kiss that brought catcalls and whistles of approval.

"Do that again and I'm going to toss you over my shoulder and head into the bedroom," Michael warned in a low voice, nostrils flaring a little with his smile.

"Maybe I should call your bluff," she remarked coyly.

"Deputy Directors never bluff. Besides, it would be rude to leave your guests in the lurch, and that's exactly what would happen, believe me."

"All you're doing is turning me on more."

"That was my intention."

"I think," Sam announced goodnaturedly, "that it's time we headed out. What do you think, Marella?"

"I think you're right," the statuesque operative agreed. "String, want to help me load the coolers?"

"Sure."

"Damn," Michael intimated to Jackie with a pleased smile, "that Sam has good hearing."

Dominic launched into a spontaneous rendition of 'That's Amore' as he helped pack up the leftover trays of food. Jackie laughed and broke from Michael's grasp, helping to clean up the mess. She was just heading out to the Jeep with one of the coolers when voices around the corner caught her attention. There was some urgency in the tone.

" . . . and I could meet you at your place. I'll tell Dom I'm going out for a few beers tonight with some friends. He doesn't worry when I don't come back. Besides, it'll give Cait and St. John the cabin tonight and they can have all the privacy they want."

"You can park the jeep in the alley by the fire escape, just make sure it's as far off to the side as possible. Otherwise, it could get towed, and Dom might start asking questions, since it's Santini Air property."

Jackie's jaw dropped for the second time that day. It was Marella's and String's voices she was hearing.

"OK. This is eventually going to come out into the open, Marella. We can't keep it a secret forever."

"I know. I know, String. Just for awhile longer. This is a big step for me."

"Yeah. Believe me, I know. You're probably thinking, out of the frying pan, into the fire, right?"

Jackie heard Marella chuckle. "Maybe. But I like the heat."

There was a long pause and Jackie backed up a few steps. "I'll just take this to the jeep, Dom!" she called to a presently non-existent Santini before edging up to the corner of the house and then walking around it. When she appeared, both String and Marella seemed to be in casual conversation at the back of the jeep.

"Here, let me help you with that, Jacks," String said, coming to take it from her.

As he hoisted it up and unlocked the back of the Town Car, Jackie sidled up to Marella. "So, got any hot dates planned for later on?" she asked casually.

Startled, Marella stared at her. "No . . . not really, why?"

Jackie shrugged. "Just wondered." She smiled. "Thanks for coming today, Marella. It's been awhile, hasn't it?"

"Yeah, it has." The older woman placed an arm around Jackie and squeezed her affectionately. "Maybe we could do this more often? I miss doing things with you, y'know."

"Maybe you and Cait and I should get together and have a girl's night out -- Sam, too, if she's free."

"That's a really good idea. A Saturday night?"

"What better day? I'll talk to Cait and call you." She squeezed Marella back. "See ya around." She turned to go to the house, then just couldn't resist and looked over her shoulder. "Marella?"

"Yeah?" Marella turned as String came to join her.

"Don't pick up any good-lookin' pilots on the way home." She blew them both a kiss and then chuckled, going around the corner to climb up the deck again. Let them wonder what she knew.

Michael, Dom, Sam, St. John and Cait had everything else packed up by the time she got there. As they walked out to the vehicles, Cait slung her arm about Jackie's shoulders.

"Sure you don't want me to stay and help you with the dishes?" she asked. "I hate to leave you with all of those."

"Nah, don't worry about it," Jackie told her. "Today was fun. The most fun I've had in quite awhile. You guys did everything else, I can do a few dishes." She breathed in the salty tang of the ocean. "Y'know, when it gets warmer, we're going to have to have some real beach parties -- surfing, clam-digging, swimming -- the whole nine yards."

"Roasting lobsters on an open grill," Dominic added.

"Telling ghost stories around a bonfire with a cooler full of beer," St. John put in.

"It's a date," Michael decided. "First warm weekend -- let's do it, barring any unforseen complications."

As the vehicles made their way up the incline to the highway, Michael and Jackie waved one last time. Then, Michael took her hand.

"Want to get drunk and fool around?" he asked with a charming smile.

Jackie shook her head. "Nope."

He stared. "No?"

"I just want to fool around."

He chuckled. "No prelude, hm?" he asked, as they walked up the deck and through the sliding doors. "Just let's get naked and do the dirty deed?"

"Yeah, that's pretty much it."

"I like your style."

He started to pull her into the bedroom when the phone rang. Jackie rolled her eyes.

"Odds are that's whoever you left in charge at The Firm," Jackie told him, heading for it.

"Odds are you're right." Michael grimaced.

Jackie picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Ah, Jackie. This is Sonja. Is Michael there, please?"

Jackie's nostrils flared and she bit back the urge to slam the phone down. "Just a minute . . . Sonja." She held out the phone to him, eyes locked to his. Michael took it.

"This is Michael." He listened for the space of about twenty seconds. "All right. I'll head out there right now. No, I can call Marella on her car phone and have her pick me up, she just left a couple of minutes ago. All right. Thank you, Sonja." He put down the phone. "Guess what? I have to get myself to Langley."

"Duty calls." Jackie slipped into his arms. "You know where I am and that I'll be waiting."

"Thank you, sweetheart." He kissed the top of her head. "Symphony Friday night. I'll come by with the limo at six-thirty. Late supper after?"

"Sounds great." She picked up the receiver and dialed Marella's car phone, giving to him on the first ring.

After arranging for Marella to come back and pick him up, he put down the phone.

"It should take her about five minutes to come back here," he said, pulling her close.

"What can we possibly do in five minutes?" Her arms looped around his neck and she molded herself into him.

Michael smiled deeply. "Let's find out, shall we?"

******************************

"Your failure surprises me, Sonja. Your superiors -- and you -- assured me that you were one of the best in your field," Johann Gerlac said, watching as the blonde beauty sipped on her wine across from him. "You also impressed upon me how enamored Mr. Coldsmith-Briggs was with you, even after your little break-up. Apparently Ms. Kendricks is more than just a distraction to him."

"I am the best in my field," Sonja snapped in annoyance. "Ms. Kendricks has some sort of . . . hold . . . over Michael. They've always been exceptionally close. Their relationship admittedly surprised me, but it was never out of the realm of possibility."

"Well, it is a reality. What do you propose to do about it?"

Sonja glanced around the lavish hotel room. Her clandestine meeting with Gerlac had been short notice. He had unexpectedly shown up in Los Angeles and she had been forced to concoct a story of nerves to stay away from the Firm office that day. Of course, Michael was understanding. He always was.

"I said, what do you propose to do about it?" Gerlac repeated harshly.

"It isn't necessary that I be Michael's lover to obtain the information I am looking for," she replied, finally giving him her casual, but full, attention. "Although it would be infinitely easier. He's agreed to let me stay on as a personal assistant. That is half the battle won. If I can seduce him, I will be able to persuade him to let me have access to his personal computer files, which include Airwolf files. I will try one more time. If I can't get him into my bed, then I have another plan. But again, it may take a little time."

"I want no more failures. I do not have unlimited time and funds for this. Get me what I want, or I will find other means to go about it. Means not nearly as subtle."

"There will be no more failures," Sonja said darkly, tossing her bright, blonde main. "If I do not succeed with Michael, I know I can succeed with Stringfellow Hawke. When I discover what I need to know, the only problem we will have is getting Airwolf to Costa Rica."

"We will worry about that when the hiding place is found," Gerlac answered. "But now . . . you must relax." He loosened the collar of his shirt and unbuttoned several buttons. "And spend a pleasant afternoon with me before returning to your project."

Sonja inwardly recoiled from his advances, but until she brought the man Airwolf, he owned her, body and soul. Seductively, she smiled, one hand intimately caressing the inside of his thigh.

"One always works better with the proper . . . motivation," she observed in a husky voice.

"Ah, yes," Gerlac chuckled. "And of course, the most persuasive of all motivations is the color green, is it not?"

******************************

Thursday morning at Santini Air was slow. Cait came in to do some checks of a couple of the choppers and Jackie was there to continue work on Dom's books. Santini and String were off doing a stunt for a picture at Universal Studios and it was one of those rare, quiet days. Jackie smiled as Cait returned from the hangar, then her smile changed instantly to a frown when a white Firebird pulled in through the gate with Sonja in it. Cait had voiced her mistrust of the woman early on, and though Jackie was fairly certain it was for her benefit, she'd wisely tried to remain neutral. There had been no logical reason for any mistrust, but as Caitlin would staunchly attest, there didn't have to be one. A woman could usually tell when another woman was up to no good. It was, according to the Texas redhead, an instinctive knowing, a sixth sense. Cait, like Jackie, didn't trust Sonja any further than she could throw a baby grand piano.

"Hi!" Sonja greeted Cait brightly, just outside the office door. "I'm looking for Jackie."

"You found her," Cait replied, jerking her head over to the other side of the room.

Jackie was pouring herself a cup of coffee and relaxing for a few minutes. Sonja entered the small office with a smile. Cait opened a file cabinet in an attempt to look busy.

"I was hoping to find you here," Sonja addressed Jackie, glancing at Cait furtively over in the corner. "I really wanted to have a chance to talk to you."

"I'm on company time," Jackie told her in a pointed, but quiet tone.

"What I have to say won't take long," Sonja insisted. "I'd really like for us to try and get along. For Michael's sake."

For a long moment, Jackie looked at her without blinking an eye. "I don't have a problem with you anymore, Sonja. I know you work for Michael. I know you're pretty high up in his department. You've passed all the tests The Committee has thrown at you and everybody's satisfied you're clean. Michael trusts you. So why are we having this conversation?"

"It just would be so much easier if we could try to be friends," she answered.

"Easier for whom?" Jackie queried.

"Michael would feel better about it, I know I would, too. Maybe even you would."

Jackie took a contemplative drink of coffee. "Michael doesn't give a rat's rear end whether or not you and I are even on speaking terms," she told the operative, grip tightening on the coffee mug.

"What is standing in the way of us being friends, Jackie? What, really? Jealousy? Are you afraid I might take Michael away from you?"

"There's no chance of that happening, Sonja, because Michael says there's not."

"You obviously think I'm a threat."

"I think you're a threat. I'm just not sure what kind yet."

Sonja slipped into a chair, crossing her long, nyloned, to-die-for legs. "Then you tell me, Jackie. What can I do to gain your trust?"

//Drop dead, you bitch.//

Jackie looked over at Caitlin for a moment, then her eyes aligned with Sonja's. "Transfer out of Michael's division. Minneapolis. Dallas. San Francisco."

Sonja stared at her a moment. "Transfer?" She squared her shoulders. "Do you think so little of Michael's judgment because he's chosen to keep me here?"

"No. I think so little of yours for staying," Jackie returned, hard edge to her voice. "If you do that, Sonja, I'll believe your good faith."

"I have a right to be here, Jackie. I know no one anywhere else."

"As I recall, you had no problem making friends," the younger woman said. "Especially with men. They used to line up around the block to take a number just to have a cup of coffee with you."

Sonja's smile became a bit of a gloat. "Now you flatter me. My admirers weren't so many."

"Don't be so modest, Sonja. You haven't hardly aged. In fact, you look pretty damn good for having just gotten out of a gulag."

The beauty's eyes darkened. "What would you know of it? Any of it? I cleaned the officers' quarters and galley. I managed to steal food enough to keep from starving."

"How long since you've been out of the gulag? What, maybe . . . four, six weeks?" Cait walked up to the blonde woman, taking her hand. "Mighty smooth hands for working so hard."

Now danger flashed in the blonde's eyes. "You doubt I was a prisoner?" She stood suddenly, incensed. "You doubt I was subjected to the whims and fancies of pigs in the East German military . . ."

"It doesn't matter what she doubts," Jackie interrupted calmly. Much more calmly than she felt. Her eyes caught Cait's. "Back off, Cait," she said softly.

Jackie started for the office door, motioning for Sonja to follow. When they were outside, Jackie faced her nemesis, who was probably a good half-foot taller than she was. "I'm not gonna make this easy on you, Sonja, I'm sorry," Jackie told her, her relaxed stance belying her true feelings. "Michael says I'm not competing with you and I believe him. I think you're trying to get him back. If you are, you won't win. I have no intention of losing out to you. You tried seducing him twice since coming back. Do you really think I'd give you the opportunity to try for it again?"

The Nordic beauty's nostrils flared. "I'm not trying to be unkind about this, Jackie, but Michael has his own mind."

"Yes, he does. Which is precisely why your feminine wiles haven't persuaded him to take you to bed."

"Michael," Sonja purred, "is a very sexual man with very deep-rooted appetites. I'm not actively persuing Michael, Jackie . . ."

"You're a liar, Sonja."

". . . but should the opportunity present itself, I certainly won't say no."

"Then I have no worries, because it never will."

Sonja raised a bemused eyebrow. "You always were overconfident."

"And you always underestimated me, even when I was a kid. What was it you said? 'Test-piloting, Michael? She can't even balance on a skateboard!'"

This took the older woman aback. Jackie smirked and privately congratulated herself. Sonja hadn't expected her to remember things like that. But Jackie remembered everything about her competitor -- every insincere smile, every laughing put-down. Even at fourteen, she had been competing for Michael's affections with Sonja.

"We were both younger then," Sonja said in a low voice. "And much less sensitive. I came here to make peace, Jackie."

"No, I'd say you came here to subtly threaten me. Maybe even provoke me so you could run to Michael and tell him what a bitch I am."

"I don't need to resort to such tactics."

Jackie shrugged her shoulders. "If you say so." She turned to walk slowly back to the office.

"Jackie!"

The young woman turned, face betraying nothing when she faced Sonja from a few feet away.

"Perhaps you haven't grown up as much as you think you have." The blonde crossed her arms. "Perhaps you've met your match and you just don't know it."

"Are you slapping me with a glove?" The wind whipped up the dust around them in the almost-deserted airfield. It felt like show-down at high noon.

The blonde beauty's lip curled. "I came here to be friends. If you won't be my friend, then I would suggest you stay out of my way. If that is what you consider a challenge, then yes, the glove has been used."

"My choice of weapons," Jackie said, facing her down. "I know Michael better than anyone, even you. And I have faith in everything he tells me. Duel's over." She walked toward the office, then stopped at the door, turning to give Sonja her most penetrating gaze. "You've lost already."

******************************

Marella watched as the white Firebird left Santini Air. She'd only caught part of the conversation inside the office. After that, it had broken up, because the bug in Santini's office was only good for the one room and didn't extend to the outside. She decided that she'd pump Cait for information later, when her relief met her, and take her out for a drink. She was sure the redhead had heard most of it, even inside the office. If anything, Cait's natural instinct to snoop would have made it inevitable.

The operative wished she dared let Cait and Jackie know what was going on but was avowed to silence. Sometimes not being able to share things with the people involved was the hardest part of the job. But it was sometimes the only buffer of safety there was. Sometimes, the less some people knew, the better.

Such was the case in Cait and Jackie's situation. Michael's orders had been explicit.

Keep an eye on Sonja. Track her movements. Watch her carefully. Monitor all conversations. If she was anything other than she was portraying herself, Michael wanted to know about it.

Marella felt a little choking sensation in her throat. Poor Michael. The man never seemed to get a break where women were concerned. Until Jackie.

Maybe, just maybe, that lonely, deadly cycle could finally be broken.

******************************

Friday afternoon rolled around and Cait stopped by Jackie's beach house before meeting Don and St. John at Santini Air to fly up to Hawke's cabin for the weekend. It had been another slow day and Jackie had taken it off. Unfortunately, her date with Michael, she informed Cait, had been canceled. It seemed some files he should have been working on the day before turned up missing, making for twice as much work now. Cait listened sympathetically.

"Oh, well," Jackie shrugged. "I knew when I signed on it would be like this. Do you and St. John want to go? You could bunk at Dom's apartment later tonight and then fly up to the cabin in the morning."

"You don't want to go, huh?"

Jackie shook her head. "Nah. Not without Michael. I don't like showing up at those things without at least a girlfriend. Normally I'd go with Dom but -- I'm just really not in the mood. Somebody might as well get something out of the tickets."

"How late is he going to be?" Cait queried. "Maybe the two of you could at least grab a bite later . . . ?"

"Maybe not. You don't understand, Cait. He gets into paperwork mode and he's like a snowplow. He won't quit until it's all cleared away."

Cait grinned wickedly. "Well . . . unless he's got a distraction." She chuckled. "Do you think he'd be all that upset if you came up to see him for a little while? Just to relieve his brain of the stress, if nothing else."

"Oh, yeah. He'd let me get away with it. But I don't generally do that."

Cait thought for a moment. Then, her whole demeanor changed. "Jackie . . . how adventurous are you?"

"Adventurous? As in . . . what? Skydiving? Climbing Mount Everest?"

Cait was on her feet and walked into Jackie's bedroom. She opened her top dresser drawers, rummaging through them. Jackie followed her in.

"What are you doing?" the dark-haired pilot wanted to know, amused.

"Looking for sexy lingerie."

Jackie laughed. "Why? You want to borrow some? I don't think we're quiet the same size."

"Nope. I'm looking for you . . . yes! I thought you might have something like this." She held up the black and red bustier and garterbelt. "Have you actually ever worn this?"

"You mean for a man?" Jackie blushed deeply. "No. I just bought in on a compulsion."

"Bet you were thinking about Michael when you bought it."

Jackie blushed again. "Good guess."

"So . . . wear it. Go on, put it on."

"Cait . . . Michael won't be done for hours yet. And even then, he'll probably go crash at the penthouse, it's closer than the ranch. He sure won't be coming out here at such a late hour. Too far."

"Let me explain this to you," Cait said with exaggerated patience. "You're going to shower, make yourself up, put this little number on, throw a raincoat over it . . . and go visit Michael at Firm Headquarters."

Jackie's jaw dropped. "Never in your wildest fantasy!"

"He'll love it!" Cait insisted merrily.

"He'll kill me!" Jackie protested.

"He'll throw you down on his desk and make mad, passionate love to you," Cait contradicted, grinning. "I'll stake my life on it! C'mon! You've even got an excuse to wear a raincoat, it's beginning to drizzle and it's supposed to keep up until after midnight."

Jackie bit her lip. She didn't know if she dared.

"Jackie . . . have the two of you made love yet?" Cait challenged.

The young pilot averted her face. "Something always seems to get in the way of it. Either outside forces or too much exercise of caution by both of us."

"Well . . . sometimes when Mohammed won't go to the mountain . . ."

". . . the mountain has to go to Mohammed," Jackie finished. She bit her lower lip, smiling almost shyly. "I'll be honest, Cait. I really don't know how he'll react to something like this. I've never . . . well, I've never attempted anything like this with Michael. Nothing even remotely similar."

"Michael is different from any man I've known," Cait conceded. "But I guarantee you -- if he doesn't react like a Texas horny toad during mating season when you lose the raincoat, I'll treat you to a no-holds-barred shopping spree at Fredericks' of Hollywood."

After a serious moment or two of contemplation, Jackie finally relented. "OK, I'll do it. But later, after the supper hour. He'll be in Special Projects until then."

About an hour of girl-talk and a couple of sodas later, Cait left with the symphony tickets in hand, extracting a promise from Jackie that she would follow through. All that afternoon, Jackie mulled over the possible scenario in her head. The more she thought about it, the better it looked. She stopped looking at it as something Michael would reprimand her for, like he would a mischievious little girl. She wasn't that to him anymore. No, she had to think in terms of a woman he wanted, who surprised him after hours at work in a sexy outfit and lovemaking on her mind.

Michael had been upset about not being able to go the symphony with her that evening. He'd been frustrated and she'd let him rant on the phone a bit to get it off his chest. She assured him it was no big deal, reminded him they both knew things like this could happen in their courtship and had him calmed down in less than five minutes. But in the back of her mind, Jackie had to wonder what could have happened to the files he'd been looking for. His operatives were not trained to be careless, even the new ones.

After a long hot shower and careful attention to hair and makeup, Jackie donned the bustier, panties and garterbelt, attached black stockings to the garters and slipped on modest, three-inch heels. Carefully, she wrapped the raincoat around herself, buttoning each button and then tying the belt. She assessed herself in the mirror, making sure nothing that was supposed to be hidden showed. Satisfied, she put on her diamond band earrings and the necklace Michael had given her for Christmas, then heaved a long breath. She was actually going to make fantasy a reality. She poufed her long hair about her face, letting it fall down her shoulders and back, unrestrained. If this wasn't enough to stop Michael dead in his tracks for at least an hour or two, nothing she could do would.

It was just after eight when she left the beach house and buzzed down the freeway to the downtown Knightsbridge office. The night guard on duty knew her but dutifully scrutinized her ID and swiped it through the computer. When she came up secure, he handed her an Alpha level clearance that allowed her access to any part of the complex except for Special Projects. That was an area Michael had total control over and he never let anyone but marella nd the people who specifically worked the area in there. But that was fine. All Jackie wanted to do was get into his office.

Michael's office was on the top floor. When the elevator stopped and she stepped from it, she almost immediately ran into Marella.

"Hi, Jackie," she greeted. "Kind of late, isn't it?" She glanced at her watch.

"Yeah, I guess it is. I just wanted to . . . come up and say hello to Michael."

"He's wading through mountains of paperwork now," Marella told her. "He really hated missing that symphony tonight. I take it you didn't go?"

"Gave the tickets to St. John and Cait," Jackie replied. "I wasn't up to it. Can I go in?"

"Well, of course, it's OK," Marella confirmed. "But he's really in paperwork mode, I'm warning you. And he's in a mood, having missed this evening with you." She sighed tiredly. "I'm knocking off now," the operative informed her. "So I'll be locking down everything. There might be one or two of us around here, but chances are you'll have to call security to let yourself out unless Michael leaves with you."

"OK," Jackie said, smiling. "Have a good night, Marella." Her smile deepened. "I plan to."

Marella looked at her a moment, then smiled back. "He'll be glad to see you. 'Bye."

Jackie watched as she disappeared around the corner. Then, she went on down the hall to Michael's office, through the glass doors of the main outer office and around the partition. She hesitated outside his closed door, able to peek through the pleats in the window blinds. Michael was alone in his office, bent over multi-page reports that were piled up in his 'IN' box. His jacket was carelessly draped over a chairback, his tie was off and his shirt unbuttoned partway down his chest. For a moment, she considered retreating.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," she whispered softly to herself. "May The Force be with me."

She positioned her purse over her shoulder and casually slipped one hand inside her coat pocket as she opened the door with the other. He looked up at her entrance and an undisguised look of pleasure flooded his face.

"Jackie." He put his pen down and the report, leaning back in his chair. "You left the symphony early?"

"Didn't go. I gave the tickets to Cait and St. John. I didn't think you'd mind."

"Not a bit, but why didn't you go? Dom would have gone with you."

She approached the desk slowly. "Dom's great fun, but he's not you. I wanted to be with you tonight."

"You're sweet."

She sat on the corner of his desk and smiled what she hoped was a seductive smile. "I'm very sweet, twice as smooth and I go down as easy as a mint julep in the heat of a hot Southern summer night," she drawled ever so slightly. The raincoat she wore split in front, revealing a very shapely leg. "I thought I'd come over and keep you company since you had to stay late."

His gaze went from her leg to her face. "I may not be able to get any work done with you here."

"Why is that?" she queried with a soft smile.

"Because you're just too damned fetching and I like looking at your legs too much," he answered with a grin. "Come over here." He pushed away from the desk and held out his arms.

Jackie rose, but moved away. She sauntered over to the window blinds and pulled them shut, letting her purse, drop to the floor. Then, she stepped over to the other side of the room, toward the plush pull-out sofa by the wall that Michael had been known to use for occasional overnighters at the office.

"I think you might appreciate the view better over here," she replied softly.

He watched her with a slight frown. With slow, careful movements, Jackie untied the belt and turned with her back to him, unbuttoning the buttons in front; she turned back around, shedding the outer garment as she did so. She could hear his indrawn breath from across the room and saw his lips part, tongue wetting them. His eye was huge. She stood in what she thought was a sexy, but demure, pose, waiting for his assessment.

"My God." His voice sounded funny and he took a few steps toward her. "Oh, my God. Jackie. Whatever possessed you?"

She suddenly froze up. He disapproved. He was angry. God, what made her think she could just march in here and . . .

She seized the coat almost frantically, feeling very inadequate and embarrassed, face flaming, her blush covering her entire body. Michael was suddenly at her elbow, taking the raincoat from her hands and tossing it out of her reach.

"Don't you dare put that back on." When she looked up into his face, he pulled her close, hand splaying over the small of her back, the other going over hers. "Look what you've done to me." He pulled her hand between them and she gasped a little when she felt his heated erection. There was a positively dazzling smile on his face and his eyes held nothing but warmth, anticipation and promise. "What possessed you?" he repeated softly, nuzzling her cheek.

She closed her eyes, then opened them again. "I . . . well, I got tired of the odds working against us all the time and decided to stack them a little," she answered. She lifted her eyes to his gaze uncertainly. "You're . . . not upset?"

"Hardly!" He loosed her hand and pulled her into his body. "In fact, if it was my attention you were hoping to command for awhile, you have it. I'm not going to be any good with work until the fire's been quenched." His hands moved over her back, down to cup her buttocks. "And believe me, right now it's a raging inferno."

Reluctantly, he let go of her long enough to pull the sofa out, then pulled her back into his arms, taking her mouth in a burning kiss. Encouraged by the reaction she'd engendered, Jackie kissed back without inhibition. She heard the low growl in his throat, felt his hands knead the flesh of her buttocks as he sought to bring her closer. He lifted his mouth from hers and fastened them on the column of her throat. She surged against him repeatedly, throwing her dark head back, moaning as his teeth raked her skin.

Then, she was on her back, the sofa beneath her, and Michael was . . . well, he was all over her, that was the only way she could describe it, mouth moving over any flesh exposed, hands sliding over her body fervently. An exultant smile came over her lips and she cradled him on top of her, letting him do exactly as he wished.

"My God, you excite me," he whispered in her ear, before tugging at the lobe with his teeth. "When you walked in my door, I had no idea you were planning to seduce me."

"I almost didn't go through with it," she confessed breathlessly. "There were a hundred times I almost didn't. I was afraid -- you might disapprove."

"How could I disapprove of the woman I love coming to my office for a late evening tryst?" he murmured softly, looking down into her face. "I find this unexpected situation one of the biggest turn-ons in my life." He kissed her gently. "I can't decide whether I want to see you in or out of your little outfit."

"Well, I know I want to see you out of yours," Jackie told him with lustful anticipation.

Michael smiled, bringing her up to a sitting position with him. "Why don't you help me undress, then?"

******************************

Sonja paused outside Michael's closed office door. The blinds were drawn, something that usually signaled he was resting from the strenuous workload. On such occasions, it was usually an unspoken rule that absolutely no one was to come into his office, at least not without knocking.

Michael's late evening at the office had been Sonja's doing. She'd conveniently "misplaced" the files that needed to have Michael's scrutiny before going over the reports pertaining to them; this gave her a chance to be alone with him, after all the other operatives left, an opening to bring back fond memories of their behind-closed-doors office affair. With a little dose of luck, those memories would be enough to get her foot in the door, to wedge herself into his life once again as his paramour. She had managed to seduce men much more difficult than Michael. There was no reason the plan should not succeed. If she could insinuate herself into Michael's life again, Gerlac would have his wonder weapon within a month to six weeks.

She could not allow Jackie Kendricks to pose a threat. The girl had nothing on her as a seductress. Nothing. She was nothing more than an outlet for a male mid-life crisis.

Michael needed a woman, not a child, to take care of his needs. Sonja smiled. She'd been younger than Jackie was now when she'd started her affair with Michael. But Sonja had always been all woman.

That was the key reason she was so damned good at her job.

******************************

Jackie was like a kid in a candy store, Michael thought, watching the wonder and excitement spark in her eyes. Her hands were shaking just a little when they reached up to unfasten the rest of the buttons of his shirt. He watched her face, observing the heightening color of her cheeks. He pulled it off with her help and then her mouth was on his chest, pressing soft, velvet kisses on his skin, fingers moving skillfully over his nipples. He lost his hands in her hair, jumping when her mouth followed her fingers. He kicked his shoes off and lay back, allowing her to continue her sensual ministrations. Her hands went to his belt and she had it unfastened in bare seconds.

He laughed. "Are you in a hurry?"

She lifted her head to look down at him, breathing labored, smiling just a little. "I guess I am." She slowed her fevered pace. "I want you. In ever way." She shivered and her lips shook minutely.

He placed a hand on the side of her face. "You're frightened," he stated softly.

She licked her lips and looped her arms around his neck. "Not enough to back off."

"I'm scared, too," he confessed. "I'm scared because I love you so deeply and I want you so much it almost consumes me." His finger touched a wetness on her cheek and he stared. "Jackie . . . sweetheart. Why the tears?"

"Because your words move me so much." She turned her mouth into his hand. "I love you, Michael. Make love to me. Please."

He turned with her gently, kissing her mouth in soft repetitions, hands sliding comfortingly over her back. He felt hers go tentatively to his pants again and he let her push them down. Somehow, he managed to get out of them while still kissing her. She responded eagerly to his tenderness and he felt the primal need to protect her sear through him. It was difficult not to rush, but he forced himself to; he wanted to truly make love to her -- with her -- to do everything right, to make her feel loved and secure. His mouth moved to her jaw and down her throat, hands moving to go to the front lacings of the bustier to unlace it. Negotiating the laces took time, but it was a pleasant delay, allowing him to ply her with more warm, sensual kisses over her face and neck. It came open and he lowered his mouth to the valley between her breasts, tongue tasting the warm saltiness of her skin as his lips punctuated moist kisses there. He pulled the bustier from her body, letting it slide to the floor. Her breasts filled his hands and he savored the beckoning aureoles, smiling when he heard her cry out at his caresses, her hands weaving agitatedly in his hair.

"God, I knew it would be like this," she whispered, overwhelmed. "I knew when we finally made love it would make me go out of my mind . . ." She cried out softly when his mouth fastened on her nipple. "I had no idea just how much I loved you until I nearly lost you . . . twice . . ."

He dragged his lips from her breast and looked down at her, breathing hard. "Don't revisit that," he told her breathlessly. "Not now, baby, please. Just tell me you love me. That's all I want. Love me as I am."

She surged upward toward him. "I could never love you any other way."

His hand wrapped in the hair at the nape of her neck and he pulled her face up to his, placing the most probing, sexual kiss on her mouth he could muster. He pressed his erection against her thigh and she made a noise of frustration deep in her throat.

She tore her mouth from his and locked her gaze to his. "Michael," she whispered in a pleading tone. "Please, now!"

Michael could never remember being so physically turned on he could barely think straight. He rose on his knees, towering over her between her upraised legs.

"Your panties," he said, hands going to her hips.

"Crotchless," she said, chest heaving.

His hands were at the waistband of his shorts and Jackie had just reached up to assist him when he suddenly froze and his expression was one of unbelief.

"DAMN IT!" he roared, climbing from the sofabed and grabbing Jackie's raincoat instinctively to throw over her. "Haven't you heard of knocking?!"

Jackie frowned, then twisted to look over the end of the sofa. Her mouth opened, then closed in a tight line.

Sonja stood just inside the door with a small wicker basket containing a bottle of Dom Perignon, grapes, beluga caviar and some imported cracker rounds. His favorite snacking foods, Michael thought wryly. He tried to think if he had ever been in such an uncomfortable position in his life and then recalled several such incidents.

"Wonderful," Jackie hissed. "How long will it take for all of Knightsbridge to find out what almost happened here tonight? We might as well publish it in the Company newsletter."

"Forgive me," Sonja apologized contritely, yet making no move to leave. "It was my assumption that Michael was working late tonight." She cocked her head as she assessed her competitor. "Alone."

"I'm sure it was," Jackie replied coolly, standing up and shrugging off the raincoat in full view of the other operative. She casually picked up the bustier and took her time putting it on. "I'll bet you just "happened" to find those missing files today, too, huh?"

The blonde smiled enigmatically. "I'm sorry, Michael. I thought since you were working so late, you might appreciate a bite to eat."

Michael pulled on his pants and was zipping them up. "Sonja, the thought was well-intentioned, but the timing was lousy. Next time, please knock, even if my door is open. Or buzz me on the intercom." He grabbed Jackie's wrist and pulled her against him. "Wait for me down in the lobby. We're not finished."

Jackie's eyes lifted to his. "Are you sure? We can do this another night."

"I'm very sure. The fire's been too well-stoked. Will you wait for me?"

"Yeah. I'll wait." She stood on her toes and kissed him warmly. "Don't take too long." As she left him and passed Sonja, she wrapped up in her raincoat once more. "You say a word," Jackie spat, "and I'll rip your throat out."

When she was gone, Sonja smiled, placing the basket on Michael's desk. "Quite the little spitfire, isn't she? Is she really so terribly jealous of me?"

Michael proceeded to put on his socks and shoes. "Well, Sonja, you were my fiancee at one time. If she is jealous, she has good reason."

"And is she your fiancee now, Michael?" Sonja sat beside him on the sofa. "She is rather young."

"So were we, once." Michael pulled on his shirt and started buttoning it. "We've both done some growing up. If age was ever a concern of mine, it no longer is. We've been tested."

"Ah. Then it really is serious. More than -- physical?"

"It's always been more than physical. I know her inside and out. We've had everything but physicality. Yes, it's much more than physical."

"There was a time, Michael, when we were as close as you and Jackie are now. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I remember." He rose. "We've been through this, Sonja. I can't turn back time."

"No one is asking you to. But you could consider your options for the future." She smiled again, rising to her feet, smoothing her fingertips over his exposed chest. "We were so good together, Michael. It's not too late. We could be that way again."

He gripped her wrist. "No."

The resounding answer took Sonja completely aback. "Michael -- you won't even consider it?"

"How many times do I have to say it? Absolutely not." He loosed her wrist. "Our time is past, Sonja. We put too many conditions on each other. At one time I loved you and I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I still care." He paused thoughtfully. "But it can never be like it was."

"What is this hold she has over you, Michael? What? She's your goddaughter, for God's sake, practically a daughter --"

"She's my life, Sonja." Michael's voice was intense but controlled. "I have never felt like this about anyone. Not like this. I know it's a hard thing for you to accept. But please at least try to understand it."

Sonja's hand dropped from his chest in surprised defeat. "Well, then. You've made it clear there's no more to discuss about the matter." She moved to retrieve the basket. "Goodnight, Michael."

"Goodnight."

Michael let out a relieved sigh when she left. Although having women spar over him wasn't a foreign thing to him, having Jackie and Sonja at each other's throats was damned uncomfortable. Perhaps because his intimacy with both of them meant much more than just sex.

He righted his jacket, threw his tie in the briefcase and made ready to leave after calling the car pool for a limo. A smile found it's way to his lips. Maybe he'd have Marella bring the reports over to Jackie's beach house later. He could read through them between some marathon lovemaking sessions with Jackie. He laughed out loud, then, knowing he'd never get a bit of work done. He might not even step out of her house for the next couple of days. That was all right, he decided. After all the false starts, they both deserved that much time together -- indulging in intimacy that up until now the two of them had only fantasized about.

True to her word, Jackie was waiting in the lobby, curled up in one of the plush chairs. He smiled as she rose and came to him.

"Ready?" he asked, remembering how little she was wearing under the coat and becoming aroused again.

"More than," she answered. "Your place or mine?"

"Yours. It's further away, but it's far more romantic. I'll have one of my operatives bring your car to the house in the morning." They stepped out into the warm night air. "I'm looking forward to you feeding me grapes in bed," he whispered in her ear.

She laughed. "And you can feed me peaches."

"I'll get juice all over you," he told her, grinning.

"That's what tongues are for, Michael."

He laughed explosively. "You are bad, Jackie." He slapped her bottom.

"Ooo, any other operative would call that sexual harrassment," she told him with a gleam in her eyes.

"Any other operative isn't sleeping with the boss," he reminded her with a smirk.

"I haven't slept with the boss . . . yet."

"Something that will be rectified very shortly," Michael promised, pulling her closer.

The limo pulled up in a few moments and they got in. Michael gave the driver Jackie's address and they settled back in the soft leather seats. He reached over a hand to start untying her belt.

"What, we're going to do it right here?" Jackie queried, laughing.

"Swing your legs up. I want to show you something."

Amused, Jackie did so, placing her legs in his lap. Michael elevated his legs from the floor and pushed a button on the side panel. There was a low buzz and the opposite seat bench moved to fold down, latching into the seat they were sitting in. In essence, they were now reclining on a bed.

"I guess we are gonna do it right here." She smiled deeply.

"I use this when I have to endure long rides to remote locations," he explained. "I estimate it'll take -- what? At least half an hour to get to your beachhouse. Is that about right?"

"That sounds about right."

"Well, then."

His hands went to the belt of her coat again and he spread it open, lightly touching the bustier, hands smoothing down her body. He slipped her shoes off and then his hand went up her leg caressingly. Jackie moved to straddle his lap, tossing her coat in a corner. Her hands wove through the hair at the back of his neck and his arms went about her, pulling her very close; she plucked his glasses off, placing them on the back ledge and he buried his face in her breasts. She smiled as he kissed her skin, thumbs brushing repeatedly over her nipples.

"I feel like I'm in the back of a '56 Chevy, but '56 Chevys were never this comfortable," she sighed.

Michael chuckled and lifted his face to look at hers. "I've never used the limo for this kind of recreation before. I think I like it." He indicated the windows and his voice dropped. "We could have orgiastic sex right here and now and nobody could see in. Even with their faces plastered right up against the glass. Think of that. One small panel of glass between us and the outside world."

She laughed, pleasingly shocked. "Are you going to tell me you're a bit into voyeurism, Michael? That you like to be watched?"

"It does present a kinky element, doesn't it? Does it turn you off?"

"Uh-uh. It's making me hot." She grinned, exerting a little pressure on his groin. "I think we're going to find out a lot about each other on this maiden voyage."

"And unlike the younger men you've had, I like to take my time," Michael told her, almost smugly. "No rushing. No instant gratification."

Jackie sighed happily. "God, I love mature men." She pressed a warm kiss on his mouth. "Lie back, Michael. Lie back and let me love you."

A smile creased his features. "Is this part of the relationship where you get to take over?" he teased.

"You know it." Her voice dropped as she extricated herself from him, pushing him down gently.

"Take me, Ms. Kendricks." The laughter in his voice was obvious but the emotion in his eyes overrode any teasing tones.

He watched as she pulled his shoes off, peeled off his socks; slowly her hands slid up the insides of his thighs and then her fingers slid down the zipper of his pants; she tugged, pulling them down his muscled legs. She looked at his body, as if memorizing it, never looking away from the scars that ran the length of his game leg. He was unbuttoning his shirt rapidly, peeling it, along with his jacket, off and throwing them in the corner with Jackie's raincoat. Her hands rested on the snaps of his boxers, pulling each one open, eyes always on his. The boxers found their way on top of the pile of clothes in the corner. Michael licked his dry lips, watching her hands smooth over the muscles of his abdomen. His groin tightened and she smiled a beautiful smile.

"I don't know why you hide your body in those suits," she told him softly. "Not that you don't look good in them. But you look great without them." Desire leapt up in her eyes and for the umpteenth time, her sincerity amazed him.

The touch of her lips on his rigid flesh was a soft, wet, velvet shock. He lost his hands in her hair, bending his legs up, unabashedly moaning his pleasure. She teased him, tongue fluttering over the glans, alternating with deep lunges down her throat. The sensations ebbed and flowed with no discernible rhythm. She was bringing him to the brink of madness, a madness he longed for, craved, needed.

"Sweetheart, I love you," he choked out, moving his hips with the rhythm, head thrown back and eyes closed. He felt her hands cup his buttocks and he was suddenly immersed in her mouth, sliding down her throat all the way to his scrotum. "Oh, God, yes," he whispered, loving this ravishment. "Jackie, angel, yes!"

Her teeth gently raked his length, mouth tight. He couldn't help his thrusting hips, leaning up a little to watch as she pleasured him. The rhythm, the movement of the car -- both served to make the experience so damned erotic. Fire began to encompass his limbs, working up from his fingers and toes and finally centering in his groin.

"Jackie, sweetheart, I'm going to come," he whispered urgently. "You're making me come, angel."

"Do it," she whispered against his hardened flesh. "Come hard, Michael. Don't hold back."

The moans he had held in check in the back of his throat now sounded. His entire body burned and he could feel the semen boiling in his testicles. Jackie's hands and mouth on him finally proved to be too much stimulation. His final warning faded on his lips when the whole world exploded around him. He wasn't sure how much time had passed when he finally regained his faculties. The first thing he was aware of was her soft lips still caressing and kissing his penis and he moaned a little, unable to believe she had given him such excruciating pleasure. He gently tugged on her hair and she looked up, breathing a little labored. Smoothly, she crawled up to curl into his side, her lips on his, hands smoothing over his sweating skin, fingers tracing over his heaving chest, emitting a soft scent of musk and White Shoulders. His leaden arms found enough strength in them to slip around the soft, feminine body draped over him. He sighed at her continual kisses and caresses, breathing in the heightened scent of perfume, aftershave and sweat.

"God, why did we wait so long?" he sighed loudly. "Sweetheart -- I haven't come like that in -- a long time."

"And just think," she purred softly, "that wasn't even the feature presentation."

"I know. I wonder if I'll live through it." He laughed softly, stroking her hair. "Oh, angel. So much for putting out the fire." He turned with her beneath him. "My turn, now."

His fingers slid down her body, cresting her pelvis and slipping between her legs. Her indrawn breath caused him to smile. Gently, he took advantage of the crotchless panties and inserted two fingers inside her, all the way up to his knuckles, rewarded with her throaty cry of rapture. Her arms wrapped around him and she began moving as if he were inside her.

His kiss was deep, smoldering, demanding and she answered it with no reservation. He dragged his lips to her breasts, placing wet, velvet kisses on them, unlacing the bustier with his other hand. The more she moved and squirmed against him, the more excited he became. It was almost a shock to find that he was erect again, bare minutes after having had the most lovely episode of oral sex he could remember.

Gently, he withdrew his fingers from her, coaxing her legs open, then lowering his face between them. When his lips contacted the wet, warm flesh, her moan turned to a cry. His caresses were deft and light, teasing her into a highly-sensitized state. He held her legs apart firmly, accessing her mystery and discovering all that was her, tongue worshipping the lovely petals that opened to him.

The salty, sweet tang was like an aphrodisiac in itself; he opened her labial folds wider with his fingers, drinking the moist wetness that flowed out of her. A corner of his mind was aware that Jackie was clawing at the leather veneer of the door, that she was crying out repeatedly at the pleasure, that the tremors that tore through her body caused him difficulty in holding her hips firm so he could drink from her. The wonderful juices coming from her seemed endless and it gave him a surge of pride that he could evoke this from her. Most women, when he made love to them in this manner, couldn't handle the sensations for very long. Jackie seemed to be riding on crest after crest of the waves that overtook her, unafraid of the destination she was heading for under his guidance. He loved the fact she was unafraid to take her pleasure and make it known, almost more than he loved the fact she was uninhibited with the pleasuring of her partner.

The scream, heralding her orgasm, was so loud that for a moment, he was afraid his driver might have heard despite the soundproofing of the passenger's cab. But he sensed no slowing or stopping of the car. If the driver had heard anything, she was studiously keeping it to herself. The mild concern left his mind as he lifted his head, watching the lasting effects of her climax streak through her body. She stilled after a few moments, breath rapid, skin moist. Michael trailed a soft line of kisses upward over her belly and abdomen, between her breasts, then lay beside her, pulling her hard into his body and holding her tightly. Even then, she was still shaking. His hands stroked her back, her hair, as he kissed her face tenderly, repeatedly. A smile played across his mouth, a part of every caress he bestowed on her. It was some minutes before the trembling ceased altogether.

//Congratulations, old man, you've still got the touch.//

He stroked her hair. "Are you all right, sweetheart?" he whispered.

She let out a shaky breath. "I'm . . ." She swallowed. "I don't know." Another shaky breath. "Oh, God, that was . . . intense."

"Yes, it was." He held her tighter. "Did you enjoy yourself as much as I did?"

"Was it really that good, Michael?" she asked in a small voice. "I mean . . . was I OK?"

He chuckled. "If you're asking me about your abilities as a lover, Jackie -- I already told you. I haven't had such a strong orgasm in a long time. Years." He kissed her forehead. "Now answer my question."

"My wildest fantasies about you couldn't do what just happened justice, not by half," she replied, a little breathless. "You've lived up to your Casanova reputation and then some. God, I was going out of my mind!"

"Is that what they're calling me these days?" He was mildly amused. He was quiet a moment. "You know, we keep putting off our little trip together. What about it? Should we go to Hawaii next week, like we planned?"

"Could we go to Rome instead?"

Michael leaned up on his elbow, a very pleased smile on his face. "Rome? Really? Not Hawaii?"

"Rome in springtime is supposed to be very romantic. We could rent a little apartment --"

"Oh, no, no, no, my dear. No apartment. The Cicerone has some very nice suites and close to all the attractions. Plus they've got a polo field."

"Yeah? Who says I'm going to let you take time out to play polo? You're going to be much too busy playing with me."

He indulged her with a grin. "I suppose it's possible I'd be disinterested once I got you over there. What's the first thing you want to do when we get there? Make mad, passionate love in the Colliseum or something?"

"No." She reached a hand up to stroke his cheek. "I want to go to that fountain across from it, in the Parco de Traiano."

His expression lost it's joviality, becoming tender and loving as he took her hand in his and placed a kiss in the center of her palm. "So you can throw a coin in? Like in the movie?"

"To kiss you in front of it. Do you remember three years ago? When you made the first move and the intensity frightened us both so badly we both backed off?"

His face softened even more. "You remember that."

"I remember I almost came to your room that night."

"If you had, I wouldn't have said no. Not that night. I was almost like a man possessed. I couldn't get that kiss out of my head that evening."

"We would have had a hell of a lot of explaining to do to my folks."

"You might have been surprised by your folks' reaction. I think they were kind of hoping it would happen this way."

"Yeah. It would have gotten me out of their hair and put the responsibility solely on your shoulders."

"Hey." He traced a finger down her jaw. "You weren't such a bad responsibility, you know. You were an incredible kid growing up and you're an incredible woman now." He paused, finger tracing her lips. "In a way, I wish we hadn't waited. In retrospect, it's probably a good thing we did."

"Three years ago, Michael, it would have been a torrid affair, and then we probably would have ended up hating each other." Jackie's voice was a little on the cynical side. "We didn't have the same kind of understanding we do now, and I don't know if we could have ever worked up to it."

"You could be right about that." He stroked her hair contemplatively. "All right, we'll go to Rome. No business to get tangled up in. No checking on contacts. Just a trip of pure pleasure."

"That would be absolute heaven," she said drowsily, cuddling into his chest.

"Uh-uh, Jacquelyn Leigh. Don't go to sleep on me. We're almost to your house and we have about two minutes to dress ourselves and look like nothing's amiss."

She groaned, then grinned. "Need some help with those pants?"

"I'll never get dressed if you help," he teased her back.

When they pulled into the drive, Jackie had just finished tying her raincoat back on and Michael had just zipped up his pants and slipped his shoes on, intent on keeping up appearances.

"Relax, Michael," Jackie admonished him with a perfectly straight face. "You don't even look like you've just gotten a blow job."

"Minx!" He wound his hand in her hair and kissed her, hard, as he depressed the button on the panel again to return the seats to their original state.

The limo driver opened the door and they slid out from the interior. It was dark and chilly - Jackie made her way to the front door and unlocked it. Michael hung back, instructing his driver to take the car back to the pool and have someone bring Jackie's car back in the morning. As the limo made it's return trip up the incline, Michael followed her into the house. The door to the bedroom was ajar and he picked up her phone, leaving a message with his service to forward any urgent calls to her number. But nothing, he emphasized, short of a national disaster. He would be incommunicado.

He was suddenly aware that the stereo had been turned on and her favorite Vangelis album, Chariots of Fire, was being piped through the speakers to permeate the entire house. Even those gentle, magical strains held an undercurrent of desire and Michael locked her front door securely, then shed his jacket, laying it over a chairback. He started to approach the bedroom, then saw her out on the deck, raincoat off, resting against the railing and watching the whitecaps roll in. It was an erotic picture and he could feel his fingers ache to touch her. He slipped up behind her, hands encompassing her waist, pulling her close. Her hands slipped over his and she leaned back against him.

"I'm not dreaming this, am I?" she asked softly.

"If you are, I'm dreaming the same thing," he intimated in her ear. "And I can promise you it will be the most erotic, fulfilling dream you've ever had."

Slowly, she turned, arms going up around his neck. His hands slid down from her waist to cup her buttocks and he lifted her; Jackie's legs wrapped securely around his waist and he looked down on her with barely-controlled passion. In the next moment, he was walking them into the darkened bedroom. With infinite gentleness, he followed her down on the mattress, taking her mouth in a warm, probing kiss. Streaks of fire shot through him as his fingers fumbled with the laces of the bustier once more. It came off and he tossed it aside, lowering his mouth to the valley between her breasts, squeezing the firm mounds of flesh. He worked a path of caresses upward, nuzzling and nipping at her throat. She moaned loudly, her own hands tearing at the buttons of his shirt. He helped her with the buttons and then it was skin against skin and he heard her gasp. His hands explored the contours of her waist and ribcage. His mouth lifted from hers and he looked down into her face.

It didn't occur to him until that moment that he was waiting for her to pull back. But she didn't. Jackie's hands had pulled his shirt free and her nails were raking down his back, pulling him down to her again. His nipples, painfully rigid, brushed hers and a small cry left his throat before he could stop it. His hand cupped one breast, thumb tracing over the nipple; his mouth followed and he heard a thin cry escape from her mouth as he worked his magic. Michael memorized everything about her -- the way her hair felt between his fingers, her underlying scent below the perfume, the silk of her skin beneath his mouth. His caresses increased in their ardor and he could feel tears begin to seep through at the corners of his eyes. God, he loved her so much, he could hardly stand it.

Michael had to force himself away and he sat back, gazing down on her half-naked body for a long moment. His large hands delicately went to her foot and he slipped the shoe off, letting it drop with a quiet thud to the floor. They slid up one nyloned leg, deftly unhooking the stocking from the clasp of the garterbelt, pulling it down the length of her leg. When it came off, he leaned forward, kissing her knee, then repeated the same process with her other leg. With practiced, knowing fingers, he loosened the garterbelt and found it's way to the floor; then, his hands found their way back to her breasts, squeezing them both gently for a moment. He traced lightly around her nipples, noting her quivering and enjoying her reactions as he teased them into rigidness.

He felt her hands as they went to his face, delicate fingers following the dimple lines at the sides of his mouth. Then they slipped up to remove his glasses and place them on the nightstand; this time, for some reason, he instinctively looked away, hiding his imperfection. Jackie turned his face back, fingertips brushing the scarred skin around his eye. She rose to a sitting position, gently pressing her mouth to the scar tissue, lips and tongue caressing gently. He felt a tightness in his throat, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. Her mouth felt so erotically good on his face, placing delicate kisses randomly about. A surge of raw desire swept throughout his body and brain and Michael forced her gently but firmly beneath him, taking her lips in an almost-furious kiss, devouring her, hands tearing at the panties she still wore. She laughed deep in her throat.

"Let me," she whispered quietly, wriggling out of the last piece of material between him and her nakedness. They slipped off and she sling-shotted them across the room.

Michael smiled, rising to his knees, looking down at her nude body in the semi-darkness. Then, still looking at her, he sat down on the bed, slipping the rest of his clothes off. He heard her breath quicken and momentarily congratulated himself for keeping his physique in decent shape. At forty-six, he had the body of a fit thirty-year-old despite high living.

He slid beside her, pulling her warm, delicate body close, absorbing the feel of her skin and impressing it upon his memory, forcing his body to obey his mind's commands despite the strong primal instinct for immediate gratification. His hands smoothed over her back and shoulders, tangled in her long, dark tresses. His mouth fastened on her throat, tenderly biting the skin, tongue tracing a line up to her ear. He felt her hands splay over his ribs, working upward to his shoulders, then downward to the small of his back; he moaned into her neck when she closed one hand around his throbbing penis, stroking with those delicate fingers of hers, making his body shudder. Gently, he lifted one of her legs over his hip, reaching down between her legs; she gasped, but allowed him access. Caressingly, his fingertips massaged the outer perimeter; their eyes met and a shuddering gasp escaped her, captured by the sudden envelopment of Michael's lips on hers. He was unprepared for her abrupt surge against him, the kiss becoming more hungry, more needful. He caressed her throughout the long, passionate kiss, discovering how it only served to stimulate her more. When his fingers slid inside her, she tore her mouth from his and cried out, almost as if in pain.

Gently, he disengaged her hand from his rigid flesh, placing a kiss in her palm. He knelt between her thighs, eyes locked to hers, watching every heaving breath that went through her lungs. He bit his lips as he started to slide into her, forcing his body to do his will. He shifted a little, burning almost beyond control; Jackie's legs opened wider and he could feel them begin to wrap around his waist, drawing him in deeper. Then, he was all the way inside her, forcing himself to be still; her inner muscles tightened and he bit back the groan he felt rise to his throat.

"I want your arms around me," he whispered to her.

Her arms slipped up about his back, legs locked around him like a vice; she was undulating against him in absolute abandon. With agonizing slowness, Michael began to thrust inside her; he initiated an open-mouth kiss, synchronized with the sensual, prolonged thrusting rhythm he set and could feel the intense shudders they both experienced from the pleasure derived from one another. He moaned loudly now, immersed in the physical sensations surrounding him within and without. The look of total unbelief on her features acted like an aphrodisiac as he moved with her in a seeming endless concomitant rhythm.

"Love you," she cried passionately. "Love you, love you, love you!"

Her legs lifted higher; he drove in deeper, breaking the kiss every so often to look down into her flushed face. She pulled him down, literally wrapping her entire body around him. His teeth clenched and he smothered her in another sizzling kiss, fresh waves of liquid fire threading through his body. Their coupling only served to fan the fire he felt, creating violent ripples of pleasure to invade every part of him.

Again, he shifted slightly, changing the angle, rewarded when Jackie cried out in abject surprise. Her body spasmed in his arms and Michael continued the steady rhythm even though every cell in his body was absolutely screaming for release, each thrust calculated to give both of them the utmost pleasure.

"Again," he whispered in her ear. "Come for me again, love. Come for me again."

She was crying now and he savaged her mouth, taking her with controlled force and fury. When he felt her body convulsing, he lifted his lips from hers, then held her face in his hands. "Look at me. Let me see your eyes."

He gauged her carefully and when her climax began to rip through her body, he finally let the last of his own control go. Her warmth exploded around him and her scream of fulfilled disbelief wreathed him. As a brilliant light flashed in her eyes, Michael already could feel the impossibly intense orgasm catapult through him, shoving him head-long into a vacuum of painfully acute sensation, perfume and color.

"It isn't possible," he said hoarsely, and then he passed out, gratefully falling into the protective, serene wings of rest.

******************************

Stringfellow Hawke's eyes scanned the bar, settling on the lovely woman who sat on the barstool on the corner. Sonja Thormann was gorgeous by any standards. She'd rebuffed several men who tried to buy her drinks as he'd watched her. After she sent the third one on his way, Stringfellow rose and approached the bartender, ordering another beer.

"Give the lady there another white wine," he told the bartender, "and put it on my tab." He went back to sit at his table, leaning back, enjoying the rich, musical sounds coming from the four-piece blues band in from New Orleans.

"Mr. Hawke." He looked up. The blonde beauty was standing next to him. "Thank you for the drink."

"You're welcome." He indicated the other chair at the table, rising. "Sit down, if you like."

"Thank you. I believe I will." She sat down as he held the chair for her. "This is a lovely little place."

"I'm surprised to see you here, Sonja. It's sort of out of your way, isn't it?" String asked in a low voice.

She shrugged. "Michael recommended it some time back. I had some time on my hands, so I thought I'd come and see how the music was."

"You're partial to blues and jazz, huh?"

"It's intoxicating. Addictive."

"It can be that." He smiled a rare smile. "I'm surprised to see you alone, though."

"I . . . uhm . . . haven't had a chance to make many friends yet," she replied. "And as far as a date -- well, one has to have a social life. I've been so busy trying to get back into my work here, I haven't had time for that, either."

"Give yourself time. I used to be pretty anti-social. I'm finding I like other people's company better all the time. Dominic said I was becoming a real sourpuss there for awhile, and he was right."

"I can't imagine someone like you being without friends -- without companionship," Sonja told him seriously. "You can be such a charming man. That smile could literally melt hearts."

He chuckled. "How's it working on you?"

"I must admit, you have me intrigued, Mr. Hawke."

"Intrigued enough to go to lunch with me tomorrow?" String asked, taking another drink of his beer.

She smiled slowly. "I think so. And where would we be going?"

"Do you like Polynesian?"

"Very much."

"I know a place overlooking the ocean in Santa Monica."

"I'll be waiting for you at eleven-thirty in the Firm lobby," the lovely operative replied.

"I'll be looking forward to that." He took another swallow of beer, then held out his hand to her. "Dance?"

"I'd love to."

String sensed her strong personality and could tell she was holding any aggressive tendencies in check. He smiled a little, pulling her close and letting his interest be known. She responded to it in kind. It would be so easy to get suckered in, he thought.

He was pretty sure she thought she was the one in control. Let her think it. He thought of Marella and a pang of remorse hit him rather strongly. This was not an enviable position to be in.

His attraction to Marella had been sudden, volatile. She'd come to him shortly after his night of disaster with Jackie, reading him the riot act for the indiscretion and his betrayal. Three days later, she'd returned, apologizing for sticking her nose in. String blew it off, but she wouldn't let him. All it had taken was one delicate hand on his shoulder. Surprisingly, it had been Marella to make the first move, running a risk of rejection. They hadn't made love that time, but the kisses and caresses that followed could hardly be described as platonic. A week later, he found himself at her apartment for no reason at all. They ended up making passionate love and it was the first time in three years he'd spent the night -- all night -- with a woman.

//Just what the hell am I getting myself into?//

He sighed a little as Sonja's hand riffled through the hair on the back of his neck.

//And how far am I gonna let this go?//

******************************

Jackie opened her eyes, realizing she must have passed out. As she rose from the seductive lure of sleep, she became aware of an incredible warmth wrapped about her and her own arms holding the combination of warmth and firmness close. She focused on the broad chest she was nestled into, breathed in the intoxicating musk mixed with perfume and aftershave. The intensity of their lovemaking had been so unlike any experience before it and that both unnerved and delighted her.

"Jackie?" Michael's voice sounded slurred and she smiled at that. Groggily, she lifted her head from his chest and looked down at him, breathing as though she'd run a marathon. "You all right, sweetheart?" he queried softly

She met his question with a laugh. "No, you've crippled me for the rest of my life! God, yes, I'm wonderful!"

He turned toward her and pulled her close. "Good." He smiled at her through the darkness. "Let's go for another ride."

This time, her laughter was a little shocked. "Ooooo! Total recovery is not a problem, I see!" she said teasingly, the warmth reflected in her tone and in her eyes.

"Never has been." He tweaked her nose and brushed her hair back gently. The merriment left his face, replaced with a tenderness. "I love you, Jackie. More than I could ever tell you."

"I love you, too." She traced his bottom lip with her finger and he caught it in his teeth for just a moment. Carefully, Jackie moved, sliding on top of his body, gazing down into his shadowed face. "That was positively incredible. I didn't know men could make love like that."

"Some men have to learn it. For others, it's instinctive." He lost his hands in her hair. "You were quite a wild thing." He smiled a little. "I like wild. Like a force of nature. It's exciting. Sensual. Exhilerating." He paused. "Incredibly sexy." He paused again. "Thank you for letting me really make love to you. For letting me do what I wanted to do."

"I wanted you to. Sometimes the feeling of being overpowered can be as much of a turn-on as being the one to wield the power." She kissed his chest. "Do you think you could let yourself be in my control? Just for a little while?"

"You mean . . . now? In bed?"

"Yeah," she answered quietly. "Right now."

"I've never given up complete control before," he admitted to her.

"I know. Do you trust me enough to give me full control? Can you lie back and let me do exactly as I want to do and trust me with it?"

She didn't begrudge him his hesitation. Giving up control was just not something Michael did -- with anybody. He was a man who had to be in control all the time. She riffled his hair back from his forehead, touching her lips to his chin.

"Michael, I won't hurt you," she told him gently. "I just want to make love to you to the exclusion of everything else. I want to make you feel what you made me feel. That's all."

"Let's try it." He cupped her face in his hands.

"If you don't like it or you don't feel you can handle it, all you have to do is tell me." She placed a gentle, sensual kiss on his lips.

"I trust you." Michael's low, even tone shot through her, leaving a warm tingle.

In all her life, Jackie had only had one lover who had allowed her to do as she did now, a handsome, rugged French-Canadian who was as earthy and sexual as Michael. She tried to remember everything she'd done to pleasure him, then stopped. No. She didn't want this contrived. She would do whatever came naturally to her to do to Michael. She didn't want any elements of past lovers to enter into the picture. This time was theirs. She wanted no one else in the bed with them.

She kissed him again, tongue sliding warmly between his lips to caress the roof of his mouth. She smiled as he jerked against her, repeating the action several times until he let out a long, drawn-out moan. Her hands smoothed over his arms -- God, the muscles in those arms -- kneading the broad shoulders. Jackie gently disengaged herself from him, trailing kisses from his neck to chest, fingers gently caressing his nipples. He let out a soft groan and his hands lost themselves in her hair. Her mouth closed over one, tongue circling, jabbing at the peak. His respirations heightened and she could feel the way his fingers wound around her hair.

Jackie continued her kisses down his chest to his abdomen, hands moving over his ribs, fingers continuing to caress his nipples. Her kisses became nibbles and his body spasmed with each love-bite; his hands stroked her hair now, caressingly. She hazarded a glance up and saw how his head was thrown back, eyes closed, mouth open. Gently, she stroked his already-hard penis and his hips jerked.

"Please, Jackie, put your mouth on me," he whispered, straining against her delicate onslaught.

She smiled. "Lie still. You're giving me control, remember?"

He moaned in frustration. "Jackie . . . !"

It quickly turned into a gasp when her tongue and teeth began to worry the inside of one thigh; he fell back, grabbing the headboard with his hands. Jackie used it to her advantage; instead of going upward, she trailed kisses down his thigh to his calf. Then, she took his foot in her hands, tongue snaking out between his toes.

"Oh, God," he cried out thinly, then let out a shout when her mouth closed over his big toe. "Jackie, I want you now! Now!"

She kissed the sole of his foot, crawling back up and pulling the pillows up so they were against the headboard. "Sit up, Michael."

Dazed, he pulled himself up, back against the pillows. Carefully, she straddled him, hands on his shoulders, looking down into his familiar, handsome face. With excruciating slowness, she lowered herself on his rigid flesh, pulling him inside, becoming tight around him, like a silken vice. His arms slid around her, pulling her close. Michael buried his face in her breasts, mouth caressing and nuzzling anywhere he could reach. Jackie flung her head back, never slowing the motion. It was incredible, how Michael made her feel.

Michael looked up and their eyes met. He smiled a little. "It's not so bad," he managed breathlessly, "this letting you be in control." She tightened around him again and he gasped. "Oh, God. How do you do that?"

"Instinct," she murmured, dropping a kiss on his mouth. She tightened again.

He moaned, matching her rhythm, his hands moving ceaselessly over her body. Jackie never had seen him so worked up, but then, she'd never been to bed with him before this either. The surge of power was like nothing she'd ever experienced. That Michael trusted her this far, especially their first time together, caused her emotions to boil over their containment. Tears welled in her eyes and Michael held her face in his hands, gaze penetrating hers, as his orgasm ripped through him.

She clung tight to him afterwards, as if letting go of him would render him lost to her. Perspiration streamed from their bodies, soaking the silken sheets beneath them.

"Tell me what you're feeling," Michael said, voice soft in the muted darkness.

She was quiet for a long time. "I can't," she finally told him. "There aren't any words."

"Are you sorry we waited?" he questioned.

"No." Her voice was decisive and absolute. "Some things happen for a reason, Michael. Sometimes we can help them along and sometimes we can't. Sometimes -- we just have to let nature take her course."

"You aren't upset it took almost seven months to work up to this?"

She leaned up on her elbow, looking down at him. "No! Why? Are you?"

Michael caressed her hair contemplatively. "I was afraid it was too slow a process for you."

"No. The pace was perfect." She laid her head back down, tracing a finger over his chest. "I've loved and treasured every moment we've spent together. I remember every time you've touched me and kissed me and held my hand. Every time you looked at me, I was reminded how much you loved me. Working up to this has been the most . . . erotic experience I've ever had. Having you like this -- it compares to nothing I've ever had, nothing I've ever accomplished in my life. You've . . ." She broke off, taking a shuddering breath. She didn't want to break down into a sniveling mass of weakness. "You've trusted me with your soul. With everything you are. Do you have any idea what that means to me?" The last sentence was delivered in an awed whisper.

His jaw flexed and he gathered her close. "I think you're biased -- and overrating me terribly."

"Don't." Her face was intense as she spoke. "Don't dismiss what I just said. I mean every word of it. You are the most precious gift I have ever been given."

"What an incredibly lovely thing to say." He stroked her hair fondly. "Then we're doubly blessed, because I feel the same about you, love."

"You said in this relationship we say what we feel. That's what I feel." She suddenly smiled, straddling him once more, body full length on his. "Oh, my. The office gossip-mongers know whereof they speak."

He frowned. "What?" He moved in pleasure beneath his weight.

"That you should do commercials for Ever-Ready batteries. You keep going and going and . . ."

"Who have you been talking to?" He laughed. "Staying power has never been a problem. You have me pinned," he observed, hands kneading her shoulders sensually.

She giggled conspiratorially. "Right where I want you, Michael Coldsmith-Briggs. Between my legs and close to my heart."

"Fie, what a nasty girl I have in my bed."

"Nastier than you know," she purred, kissing his chest. She moved to lay on her side once more.

He stroked her hair some more, placing a kiss on top of her head as he pulled her into his chest. "Wouldn't hurt to have a little rest, though. I'm still older than you are. If you want fireworks every time we make love, you'll have to grant me a little recovery time in between sessions," he teased lightly.

She draped herself over him and nestled her head in the juncture of his arm and shoulder. "Just for the record," she told him drowsily, "no one's ever made me see fireworks before you." She curled into his side, with one leg thrown over his waist. "I love you, Michael."

"More," he sighed as sleep closed his eyes.

******************************

"With her? You're going to the airshow with her?!" Cait could not believe it as she stared at Stringfellow Hawke in astonishment. "String, she's not even your type!"

The pilot frowned in irritation. "And what is my type?" he asked, somewhat amused.

It was early Monday morning. Dominic was on the phone in the office and Cait and String were standing outside in the cool morning air. St. John was showing a couple of potential students around the airfield.

"Believe me, it's not her," Caitlin told him positively. "I don't know what Sonja Thormann's game is, but she's up to no good, you can be sure of that."

Stringfellow laughed. "C'mon! It's a lousy airshow! For Pete's sake, since when did you start screening the women I date? You're the one always siding with Dom that I need to get out more and meet new people."

"That doesn't include barracudas like that," Cait replied with a growl. "You mark my words, Stringfellow Hawke, one day you'll be hearing me say 'I told you so.'"

"Bull." String grinned and headed out the office door, slinging his flight jacket over his arm. "Later, Cait. I'm going to clean up at Dom's place, then pick her up. Cool off, huh?"

Cait clenched her fists and stalked back into the office, plopping down in a chair across from Dominic Santini, who was now going over some paperwork. "Jackie called about an hour ago and said she's gonna be late," he informed Cait. "She's got nothing on the books, I don't need her 'til afternoon anyway." He looked up at the redhead. "Down, girl," he directed, following String's retreating figure with his eyes. "String's old enough to take care of himself."

"Yeah, and you don't worry about him in the least," she replied crossly. "I know you, Dom. What do you think of all of this? Sonja moves pretty fast for somebody who should be pretty upset over losing out to Jackie."

"Sonja never had Michael, remember?" Dom reminded her. "They broke up before she was captured."

"Something isn't right," Cait insisted, getting to her feet. "I know it, you half-way know it, even St. John wonders, though he's not saying anything. And Jackie --"

"Jackie's a jealous woman," Dom interrupted pointedly. "Anything she thinks about the subject is colored over, and you're her friend. Naturally, you feel protective."

"Dominic, the woman is dangerous!" Cait all but exploded. "If I can see it, anybody else should be able to! You should have seen her that day she came in here! Smug as hell and sooooo sure she could get Michael back from Jackie -- she as much as said so! Don't you sense the slightest thing funny about her?"

Dom shrugged. "Not really. She's a woman who's been in a gulag, Cait . . ."

"She's got the smoothest hands I've ever seen for someone who was supposed to be at hard labor," Cait broke in snidely.

". . . and she needs a life," Dom continued, as if he hadn't heard her. "There's nothing wrong with what she's doing to make one."

Cait growled again. "You men. You wouldn't know that woman's a cobra unless she slithered up and bit you. And even then, I think you'd give her the benefit of the doubt."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Dom muttered grumpily.

A car engine caught their attention and Jackie's Jaguar pulled up to a parking place by the office. She walked in, smiling brightly.

"Good morning!" she greeted, leaning over Dom to give him a big kiss on the cheek. "I know I said I'd be late and I didn't have anything on the books, but I decided to show up anyway. I won't clock in 'til later." She walked over and poured herself a cup of coffee, then leaned back against a file cabinet.

"Boy, you must have had a restful weekend," Dom said, a bit taken aback by her cheerfulness.

"Hardly restful -- but invigorating," she replied mischieviously. "Actually, I didn't have much time for sleep."

Cait hid a grin. "Indulged in a little strenuous activity, did you?"

"Mmmmmm, yes, I most certainly did. And you know how they say it's the quality, not the quantity?"

Cait's grin broadened. "Yeah, I've heard that."

"They lied. The quantity was right up there, too. Almost more than I could take." Jackie grinned mischieviously. "So -- tell me. How come the two of you look like you just got back from a funeral? Did I miss something?" Cait and Dom exchanged a look. "C'mon, give! What's going on?"

Finally, Cait spoke. "Guess who String's taking to the airshow this morning?"

Jackie stared at Cait for a moment. Then she looked away. "Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. But damned if I understand why. Sonja's not even his type."

"That's what I said," Cait replied, giving Dom a killing look. "And am I being paranoid, or do you think she's up to something?"

"Awwwwwww," Dom said, rolling back from his desk. "You gals can finish without me. I'm gonna go check the 'copters for this afternoon." With that, he went out the door.

"Dom thinks I'm nuts," Cait told Jackie. "So -- what's your take?"

"To be honest, I'm not a good person to ask. I can't stand the woman for obvious reasons. The only thing I can figure is she's trying to make Michael jealous." A sudden grin broke out over her face. "Too bad she'll be terribly disappointed."

A small smile played over Cait's mouth. So my advice was good, huh?"

"Cait, I will never doubt you again. And just to pay you back -- I'm taking you to Frederick's of Hollywood for a no-holds-barred shopping spree. Consider it my way of saying thank you."

"So . . . you and Michael . . ."

"He pounced me almost the moment I had the raincoat off. Unfortunately, Sonja showed up just as we were getting down and dirty . . ."

"Oh, my God."

"Yeah. Michael got us out of it with his typical aplomb. And then -- well, it was in the limo, at my beach house -- all over the beach house -- on the beach, in the surf. All weekend long. The only thing we stopped for long enough was to shower and eat and even then I only cooked once. I've got empty chinese and pizza boxes and Perrier and champagne bottles all over my house!"

Cait laughed delightedly. "Want me to help you clean up after work today?"

"Nah, it's not much to clean up, just garbage to take out." She stopped, frowning. "So. Little Ms. Thormann moved in on String. She sure didn't waste much time."

"Yeah, and I can't figure when it happened. She never came here over the weekend. String was gone Saturday afternoon. I wasn't here most of the day, I was shuttling a copule of professors to a convention in Seattle. Dom would have said something if she'd been here."

"Call me paranoid, but if Sonja had designs on String, she'd leave nothing to chance. She's a charmer with mega good looks. You can't wonder why String's attracted."

"I don't wonder. I'm concerned. I think she's up to something."

"Give String some elbow room, Cait. He reads people pretty well."

"Then why can't he see through her?" Cait pouted.

Jackie laughed a little. "It's called lust."

"Did someone mention my middle name?" St. John asked, gliding inside the office to grab Cait around the waist, pulling her tight against him.

The two women laughed and Cait slapped playfully at his shoulder. "Just like a genie out of a lamp," she said with a wink.

"Huh?" St. John kissed her nose.

"Just rub it and out it pops," she defined for him, tongue-in-cheek.

Jackie squealed in shocked laughter at the expression on St. John's face, right along with Cait's hearty guffaw.

St. John laughed along with them. "You girls -- what dirty minds!"

"You love it and you know it," Cait purred against his chest.

Dominic rejoined them, noting the lighter atmosphere and Cait imagined he was inwardly relieved. The phone rang and he picked it up.

"Santini Air," he spoke into the mouthpiece. A moment later, he held it out to Jackie. "It's the Man From Glad."

"That's our clue to vacate," Cait said as she and her lover exited the office.

"I'll take the extension in the back room," Jackie said, heading back there.

******************************

Jackie picked up the receiver in the store room, nodding to Dom from the doorway and he put down the phone. "Hello?"

"And how are you this fine morning?" came Michael's purring voice.

"You put a smile on my face this morning and I haven't been able to stop smiling since," she told him in a low voice. "I miss you, Michael. I need you."

"Music to my ears," he intimated in an equally low voice. "Meet me at the penthouse tonight. If I'm not there when you get there, order up and wait for me."

"Can't manage a nooner, huh?" she teased.

She heard his soft groan. "Don't tempt me. I'm paying for the weekend with a load of stuff to get done today. And sweetheart -- it was worth it. It was worth every bit and then some." His voice dropped again and he could hear the smile in his voice. "I feel like a horny teenager."

"You sure have the stamina of one," she half-whispered sexily.

"You think so?" He sounded pleased.

"I know so. Should I go get a cheerleading outfit tonight?" she asked coyly.

"Fishnets and high heels," he countered with a chuckle. "And a tight red leather mini."

"I'll see what the old wardrobe can do," she promised.

When she wandered outside a couple of minutes later, Cait joined her. "Hey, I've got an idea I want to kick around with you."

"Mmm?" Jackie looked up, blinking. "An idea? About what?"

"Well, Dom's letting us off tomorrow and the next day because the work load's light enough for him, String and St. John. So why don't the two of us say we're going into San Francisco on a little shopping spree -- and then do a little detective work on Ms. Sonja Thormann?"

Jackie stopped suddenly, staring at Cait. Then she shook her head. "I think you're more ticked off about her in some ways then I am," she stated. "I thought about doing something similar myself, but if Michael ever found out we were actually checking up on one of his operatives -- I don't know. I don't like doing this kind of stuff behind Michael's back. Especially when we're talking about Sonja."

"Do you think I'm way off in left field about her?" Cait queried.

Jackie hesitated. "I . . . don't know. I'm not exactly unprejudiced." She paused again, then looked up at her friend. "Cait -- do you have anything more than a gut feeling about her? Because if you don't, I can't be part of this."

"Well, let's see. She gets totally rejected by Michael when she was so confident she could get him back. She gets herself immediately involved with String, who doesn't do much dating to begin with. Then there was her challenge to you a few days ago here at the airfield. And her hands . . ."

"All circumstantial. I can't, Cait."

Cait folded her arms. "OK. I understand. You don't want to jeopardize what you have with Michael."

"It's not only that. There's nothing concrete that indicates Sonja's up to anything. I can't stand that woman, Cait. But let's be fair. There's no evidence. None."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally, Cait's shoulders relaxed and she smiled a little. "So. Got another hot date with your Knight In White?"

Jackie smiled immediately. "Oh, yeah. And I might need some more advice. He's talking leather . . ."

The two girls headed toward the hangar as they talked.

******************************

As Caitlin O'Shaughnessey watched the tall, blonde Sonja Thormann exit from the sleek white Ferrari, she was never more grateful for her own ability to pick up on fashion. While she'd been no fashionplate in Texas -- her profession as a Texas Highway Patrolwoman precluded that for the most part -- she had subscriptions to Cosmopolitan, W!, Mademoiselle and several other women's magazines. The sleek black cocktail dress she wore -- the one luxury she'd allowed herself recently -- was a purchase direct from Rodeo Drive's Christian Dior. The object of the game was to blend in from the crowd that patronized the hotel.

The Hyatt Regency on South Hope was in the midst of L.A.'s hub of activity -- near many club hangouts and some tourist attractions. Enough human activity to afford cover. Her hand reached inside her handbag, touching the smooth plastic compact that was also a hidden camera. The cigarette case she carried was a miniature tape recorder. She'd ordered the equipment through a Texas company long defunct that dealt in surveillance equipment, never really thinking she'd ever make any real use of them. Earlier, she'd caught a ride with Jackie as she was on her way to Michael's penthouse and she'd given Cait the keys to her car with a wink. She'd never asked Cait where she was bound, probably making her own assumptions about her meeting St. John on some romantic rendevouz.

Cait hated lying to St. John but promised to make it up to him later. She'd indicated a friend of hers was staying at the Hyatt and she was meeting her for drinks and dinner. So now she had the clothes and the car. No one would question whether or not she belonged there, she hardly looked out of place. Taking a deep breath, she pulled up in front of the hotel, leaving the car run as one of the attendants went to park it. Licking dry lips, she walked inside the stunning structure. She looked keenly about and, catching Sonja's brilliant mane of blonde hair, followed discreetly. She went into the bar, looked about for a moment, nailed her target and moved toward it.

An elderly gentleman with an aura of power Cait could feel even where she was standing rose and took Sonja's hand with a charming smile. Cait ordered a drink at the bar, paid for it, then moved to a table one tier below. She hadn't been spotted by either of them yet. Her close proximity afforded her snatches of conversation caught by the activated cigarette case. They spoke in low tones and it was hard to make anything out over the moderate din of the patrons and the filtered music from the speakers above. She studiously smoked a cigarette and nursed her drink, still trying to make the conversation out. At one point, a businessman was giving her the eye; Cait quickly discouraged it with a glare. She perked up suddenly when she thought she heard the word 'Airwolf'; for a moment, Cait thought she was hallucinating. But then it was mentioned again -- even through the noise, she was dead certain about it. Her heart plummeted to her stomach and she almost lost her breath when she distinctly heard the word 'Airwolf' again, followed by 'Gypsymoth.' Her glass of wine was suddenly unappealing. Quickly, her mind raced.

Could it be that this man was one of Michael's people -- and that what he and Sonja were discussing was appropriate? Or could it be something entirely different? Airwolf was a project Michael was extremely tight-lipped about. As close as he and Sonja had been, Cait still doubted she even had access to any of those files. Which meant she would had to have gotten her information from another source.

Caitlin leaned around the partition. Sonja's back was to her, but the man's face was visible. Carefully, Cait rose to her feet, walking to the ladies' room at the other end of the tier. She stood just beyond the doorway, waiting for what she estimated was about a minute and a half. Then, she walked back out, took out her compact and opened it, depressing the activating button with her index finger. The mini-camera whirred, snapping a series of pictures, capturing the man's face easily. She walked back to her table and finished her glass of wine, watching as Sonja and the other man adjourned from their table. She rose again, following at a discreet distance; a hand touched her elbow and she jumped. Stringfellow Hawke stood behind her, decked out in casually elegant jacket and open-necked shirt, blue jeans and boots with a high shine on them.

"You're a long way from home, little girl," he intimated, pulling her behind one of the wide pillars in the lobby. "Got a hot date?"

Cait blew out a breath of relief. "No! I mean yes! I mean . . ." She replaced the compact and clicked the purse shut. "I wish you wouldn't sneak up on me like that!"

"So answer the question," he prodded.

"What are you doing here?" Cait demanded.

"Meeting Sonja for drinks. We're going to the Comedy Shoppe afterwards, then late dinner."

Cait scowled. "Well, it might interest you to know, she was just in the bar getting cozy with a much older man."

String's eyebrow arched. "Yeah? Probably an old friend or something."

"I don't think so. I overheard part of the conversation, String. Airwolf was mentioned several times and Gypsymoth once. I think Sonja's giving away state secrets."

"You're like a dog with a bone. You're not going to let go of this, are you?"

Cait stood before him, arms folded over her chest in defiance. "No, I'm not."

String placed an arm above her head, leaning on the building support. "Cait . . . you've got Airwolf on the brain. Go home."

"I know what I heard, String."

"OK, look." String was trying to be patient. "I'll keep my eyes open and my ears. I think you're way off with this, and I can't believe you're actually scoping Sonja out. But if you're right, I'll catch it. Trust me, OK?"

"All right. You just be careful." She leaned up to give him a peck on the cheek. "I'll see you next week."

"That's right, you've got a few days leisure comin'. Enjoy 'em. Heard you were going to Frisco. Jackie goin' with you?"

"Don't know if I can tear her away from Michael long enough," Cait admitted. "But I'll try."

"Take her easy, Cait." String winked before walking off. "Hey, buy another little number like that. It turns heads."

Cait watched as he meandered over to the bar, then turned to exit the building. It took only a few moments for the Jaguar to make an appearance and when Cait slid behind the wheel and pulled out from the curb, she drove for awhile, then pulled into a restaurant parking lot.

After a moment's debate, she picked up the car phone and punched in some numbers.

"This is Marella," came a familiar voice over the line.

"Marella, it's Cait," Caitlin identified herself. "This a secure line?"

She heard a noise. "It is now, Cait. What is it?"

"Maybe nothing. I don't know. I just have a really strange feeling . . ."

"Spit it out," Marella prodded.

"How long would it take one of your people to develop some pictures I took with a hidden mini-cam?"

"It's an emergency?"

"It could be. It . . . might really be important to national security, Marella. I'm not kidding."

"OK, come to Firm Headquarters. Just give your name to the guard at the gate and meet me in the lobby."

"Twenty minutes tops," Cait confirmed. "Thanks, Marella. I wouldn't even ask if I wasn't sure I was onto something."

******************************

Jackie snuggled more securely in Michael's arms, comfortable and warm and temporarily satiated in the big king-size bed in Michael's master bedroom at the penthouse. Michael had been delightedly shocked when she'd shown up in see-through white lingerie. Dinner was forgotten in the heat of passion -- she smiled, remembering the way he had made love to her up against the wall, their clothes still in place. Later, they became a trail to the bedroom and a lovely two-hour interlude ensued. They were starving afterwards, donned matching silk robes and fortified themselves with their half-cold repast. Afterwards, they watched "The Road Warrior" video and then retired to the bedroom to make love once more before falling asleep.

"A person shouldn't be allowed to be so happy," she half-whispered to herself. She sighed contentedly, then felt Michael's hold tighten on her, lips pressing on her forehead.

"Jackie, I need to ask you something," he said gently.

"Mmm. Ask me anything." She inhaled the scent of his skin and flicked her tongue out to taste the musky tang of his chest.

"Ohhhhhh." He sighed loudly. "Baby, I can't think straight when you do that."

She giggled a little guiltily. "Sorry. Ask away."

"You . . . asked Sonja to transfer from my division, didn't you?"

The question cut like a knife into the quiet solitude and she stiffened. "Is that what she told you?"

"More or less. Did you?"

"Not exactly. She asked me how she could gain my trust. That's when I suggested she might consider transferring."

"Sweetheart, I've told you time and again. You're not competing."

"Hey, I wasn't the one who waltzed into Santini Air with taunts!" Jackie took a deep breath, determined to calm herself. "She practically smacked me across the face with the glove, Michael."

"And did you pick it up?"

"Hell, no. Not really. I knew I'd already won."

"Wow. Two women fighting over me. Cool."

She rolled her eyes. "Look. I've gone out of my way to be patient with her. If she's been through everything she says she has, then I can even empathize and God help me, feel sorry for her. But she practically told me she had every intention of beguiling you away from me. I wasn't going to let that slip by. Don't ask me to try and be her friend. I'm not capable of it. I don't know if I ever will be."

"I wouldn't ask that of you. I think you've held up remarkably well in the face of the circumstances."

"I'm telling you up front, Michael. I don't trust her. I never have. Call it jealousy, call it whatever you want. But I do trust you. If you tell me it's over between the two of you, I believe it."

"And that is one of the many and varied reasons I love you so, Ms. Kendricks." He placed another lingering kiss on her forehead.

Jackie suddenly sat up at the sound of the elevator doors opening. No one but Michael, she and Marella had access to the penthouse elevator. And Marella usually called before she came up. Jackie started reaching for the gun she knew Michael kept in the nightstand, but he stayed her arm.

"It's Marella," he told her.

"How can you tell?"

"Trust me, I can tell."

Michael slipped out of bed, donning his robe again. Curious, Jackie followed him, doing the same. He opened the bedroom door just as Marella was about to knock on it. She was caught up short, a little embarrassed at catching them together.

"Save the blushes, Marella," Michael advised with a smile. "It's a sight you're going to have to get used to," he said evenly. "You usually call . . . what the Devil! Caitlin!"

Beyond Marella's shoulder, the redhead stood, looking fabulous in the little black mini she wore if a little windblown.

"Well, what are we all standing around for?" Jackie queried, moving past Michael and walking out into the living area. "Sit down, ladies. I'm assuming it's not a social occasion?" There was a bit of an edge to her voice -- she was not pleased with the interruption.

"I'm sorry about not calling first, Michael," Marella apologized contritely. "But I thought this was important enough to come over right away and I didn't want to chance a phone call to discuss it, even on a secure line."

Michael nodded, indicating they should sit. When they were all seated around the coffeetable, Marella opened the clasp envelope she held and pulled out some photographs.

"Recognize him?" Marella asked, pointing to the elegant-looking man in the photo.

Michael studied it a moment. "Isn't he a Nazi war criminal?"

"Johann Gerlac, rank of lieutenant in Hitler's army. He was second-in-command at Dachau," Marella confirmed. "He's built a small empire from the drug trade and prostitution and lives on a small island off the coast of Costa Rica. He's here in L.A. right now, at the Hyatt on South Hope. Cait, here, took the pictures with a hidden camera."

Michael turned to look at the redhead, half in amusement. "OK, start from the top. What were you doing at the Hyatt to begin with, Cait?"

"I was following Sonja," Cait answered as Jackie rolled her eyes. "Hey, you had as many misgivings as I did, but you wouldn't touch it, so I took it upon myself. I did it partly for your benefit!" Cait defended herself. "And I did it for String! I don't care what any of you think of my doing it, I did it! I was sitting less than five feet away from them in the nightclub out of sight and while I couldn't hear most of the conversation, I did hear a few key words like 'Airwolf' and 'Gypsymoth.'" Michael did not react when Cait plopped the audio tape on the table in front of him. "You can hear it all on that. Marella's already had it analyzed. It's Sonja's voice, according to a voice print."

"That's true," Marella agreed. "It was analyzed enough to confirm that much. Given more time, I could have had it analyzed to the point where the conversation could have been rendered crystal clear."

Michael leaned back. "Cait, I was trying to keep you out of this. But now it looks as though you've stumbled into this mess and I better explain what's going on." He looked apologetically at Jackie. "I kept you out of it too, sweetheart. I didn't want any more people involved than necessary. I've had Sam and Marella on surveillance on Sonja ever since we returned from the trade."

"What!" Cait and Jackie chorused together.

"It was partly instinct, partly common sense," Michael continued, a little uncomfortable with the accusing gazes of the two women. "Sonja's sudden reappearance in the picture just hit me wrong. I was willing to take her return on faith until I found out different. I've had her telephone calls monitored by wiretap -- no actual bugs, she's too good for that, I'm sure she sweeps her condo every night. She's met with this man several times since coming back here. This is the first time we've been able to get a clear photograph of him. So, Cait, you might very well have confirmed my suspicions. If we can get a clear audio on that tape and find out exactly what she was talking about to Gerlac." He turned to Marella. "Anything else I should know about him?"

"I pulled a file we have, it's in the envelope along with Cait's photos," Marella said. "He's got his own little fortress on that Costa Rican island. Lives very well -- owns a few Chem labs for processing cocaine and is a main distributor in South America. He has satellite distributors here, too. Collector of fine art, good wines -- and has quite a collection of one-of-a-kind aircraft, emphasis on the military category. A passion of his."

"How much do you want to bet Gerlac was the one who paid of Gerald Bose to get his hands on the Airwolf printout," Michael said quietly.

"Exactly what I was thinking," Marella agreed, nodding.

"Bose failed and Sonja fills in after an acceptable time lapse," Cait said, in almost surprised revelation. "So she was playing with you guys! It's too perfect!"

"It certainly looks that way." Michael's voice was quiet. "She couldn't pick up where she left off with me. So she had to figure another strategy quickly. I anticipated that. So I asked Stringfellow Hawke if he would let himself be available to see where it led."

"You were pretty sure it was Airwolf she was after? Even in the beginning?" Jackie asked, stunned. "You never let on."

"String's at the Hyatt right now, drinks with Sonja," Caitlin said.

"I wouldn't be at all surprised if she tries to sway String over to her side," Marella said. "And she's got a lot of ammunition. Brains, beauty and a body that won't quit."

"We need to keep our eyes and ears open," Michael said. "I don't need to caution you -- be very careful. If Sonja thinks she's being watched, it could blow the whole thing."

"String should have told me what was going on." Cait shook her head. "I would have stayed out of his way if I'd known."

"The less people who knew about this the better," Jackie defended. "Given the way we both felt about her, we could have done or said something to complicate matters."

"Looks like I almost did anyway," Cait said, unhappily.

"Actually, you may have helped the case against her," Michael said with a small smile. "If I'd known how good you were, Cait, I'd have tried to recruit you into The Firm long ago."

Cait smiled back. "You won't take offense if I say, 'No thanks.'"

"Of course not." Michael turned to Marella again. "Go ahead and reanalyze the tape. I want hard evidence. Hawke is supposed to contact me later tonight and update me."

Marella rose. "I'll get on it right away, Michael. Cait, do you need a lift home? I can have the limo take you home after we go back to the Firm."

"Yeah, thanks." Cait fished in her purse and gave the parking stub to Jackie. "Thanks for the car loan, Jacks."

When the two women left, Jackie slipped her arms around Michael, laying her head against his shoulder. "If you want me to leave now, I understand," she said softly.

"Don't be silly. You're not going anywhere, except back to bed with me." He played with a tendril of her hair. "I didn't want to keep all this from you, Jackie. But under the circumstances, I thought it best."

"It was business," she said quietly. "I know that. I know you don't tell me everything and your reasons are usually logical." She looked up at his profile. "But I also know enough about you to realize that even though you halfway expected it, Sonja's betrayal hurts you."

"Yes it does. It confirms what I suspected years ago. That she's always been an East German agent."

"You suspected her as long ago as that." Jackie's voice held surprise.

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer." He sighed, getting to his feet and taking her hand to pull her up. "I'll tell you about it sometime. Not now."

He led her to the darkened bedroom, loosing her hand as he shrugged out of his robe. Jackie's also dropped hers to the floor. They met in the comfort of the large bed, under the warmth of silken sheets and thick blankets. He reached for her and brought her close, mouth closing over hers in hunger. The urgency surprised Jackie a little, but she rode with it, unafraid. He became a man who expected compliance to accommodate his desires. He grabbed the hair at the nape of her neck, pulling her face up to his in a furious kiss; one hand slid down her body, parting her legs impatiently.

She answered his fierceness with smoldering gentleness and after a few minutes, the roughness ceased and he looked down at her in the darkness.

"Jackie, sweetheart, I'm sorry," he apologized in a voice that cracked ever so slightly. "I didn't intend . . ."

"Michael." She was surprised at the strength in her voice. Apparently so was he, because he stopped speaking and turned his full attention to her commanding tone. "It's all right. Use me. I can take it and I know you need to let loose."

"I can't." He shook his head, ashamed. "It's like . . . rape."

"It's not rape if I want you to do it." She reached up, hands going through his hair. "Michael, sometimes, one of us is going to have to give more than the other. That's just the way it works, in all levels of a relationship. Right now, you need to take. So take. All you need. I trust you. I know you won't hurt me. If it starts to hurt, I'll tell you. And if you don't hear me, I'll give you one of my famous right crosses."

He looked down at her, as if to give her a chance to back out. "Honey, I don't . . ."

She grabbed his face. "Do it," she whispered. "You aren't going to break me."

The savagery in their lovemaking was unlike anything else she'd experienced. His nails raked her skin, he bit her lips and tongue, pounded into her with relentless rhythm. She didn't fight it and didn't match his ferocity. Her role was to absorb the storm and meet his turbulence with soothing comfort. The tendons stood out on his neck and the force of his thrusting made the headboard hit the wall repeatedly. She was unprepared for the convulsions that ran through his body, anchoring him firmly in the circle of her legs, her muscles almost cramping from the force she had to exert. After what seemed like an eon, he collapsed heavily on top of her with a long, drawn-out groan, and she felt the flood of semen fill her. She breathed hard from the intensified lovemaking, body still around him, but loosening. Her hands wove soothingly through his damp hair, over his slick skin, and she felt the slight movement of his lips against her throat.

"You are amazing," he sighed. "Did I hurt you?" His concern was evident as he lifted his head to look down on her.

"No, you didn't hurt me." Well, she wasn't exactly hurt. She was gonna be sore, though.

"Are you sure?" She could tell Michael didn't believe it. He was very cognizant of the fact he had used her body without mercy.

She smiled charmingly. "Nothing a nice hot soak in a bathtub couldn't fix."

"Or hot tub?" he asked.

"Perfect," she answered.

"The champagne's flat," he said, getting out of bed to move into the living room again. "I'll order up another bottle of Dom Perignon."

Fifteen minutes later, they were relaxing in the hot tub and drinking icy champagne from fluted glasses in between intimate kisses. Ten minutes later, the phone rang, and Michael reached for it.

"Yes?" He listened for a moment, then hit a button on the phone to secure the line. "All right. Keep me posted, Hawke. By the way, Cait knows everything. Yeah. That's exactly what she was doing at the Hyatt. Yeah, but she actually got me something I can use. Yes. Keep it up. I appreciate this. I owe you a big one. You bet. Yeah, I know. You'll never let me forget it, either. 'Bye."

He put down the receiver and hit the button again, taking a sip of champagne.

"Well?" Jackie asked, moving to straddle his lap.

"Nothing concrete yet. Sonja's probably working up to seduction. Could be a matter of a few weeks yet before we get anything more concrete. It's just a matter of time."

"Speaking of which, I've got a week off from the airfield, and I want to spend as much time with you in and out of bed as I can," Jackie told him, sliding temptingly against him.

He grinned wryly. "Y'know, if we're not careful, people are going to start talking."

She grinned back. "They already are."

"Ooo." He brought her closer. "Well, then. Let's not disappoint the rumor mill."

A cry left Jackie's throat as she was once more carried away on now-familiar waves of passion and heat.

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END PART III

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Susan Rossi, Webmistress
August 19, 1999
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