“I’m lying flat on my back. I’ve taken the pills. At least give me this.”
If he hadn’t looked at her so pleadingly, she might have been able to refuse. But there was that glimmer of vulnerability again and she just couldn’t do it.
“What is it that you want, Agent Hennessey?”
“First.” He moistened those full lips. Strange, she considered, his lips were aw fully full for a man’s. There hadn’t been a lot she could do about that. The best they could hope for was that no one would notice. “I’d like you to stop calling me Agent Hennessey. Call me Joe.”
His fingers still hung around her wrist, more loosely now, but the contact was there. Pulling away would have been a simple matter but he was her patient and she needed him to relax. So she didn’t pull away.
“All right, Joe,” she complied. “I suppose then that you should call me Elizabeth.” Most any thing was preferable to Doc. Although she did have to admit that he some how made it sound sexy.
He licked his lips and said her name, “Elizabeth. It suits you.”
She wasn’t sure whether that was a compliment or not, but she decided not to ask.
“Talk to me,” he urged, the fingers around her wrist some how slipping down to en twine with hers. “Tell me about your relationship with Maddox. What attracted you to him?”
They were supposed to do this. That’s why she was here, be yond the surgery, that is. She was supposed to make sure he knew about David’s personal life—at least as much as she knew. He needed to get the voice down pat and the mannerisms. Practice would accomplish both. But the details were another matter. She had to give him the details just in case David discussed his private life with someone Hennessey—Joe, she amended—might come in contact with during the course of this under cover operation.
Elizabeth saw no point in putting off the inevitable. Getting on with it was the best way.
“He was nice,” she said. And it was true. She hadn’t known what to expect out of a CIA handler and his being nice was the first thing she was drawn to. All extraneous assets utilized by the CIA were as signed handlers as a go-between. She didn’t say because he certainly knew this already.
“Ouch. Maybe you don’t know this, honey, but nice is not a man’s favorite adjective.”
“Elizabeth,” she corrected, feeling even more awkward with his use of the endearment though she felt confident he didn’t mean it as an actual endearment.
“Elizabeth,” he acknowledged.
Even then, as he acquiesced to her assertion he made one of his own. He drew tiny circles on her palm with the pad of his thumb.
She started to pull her hand away, but decided that would only allow him to see that he’d gotten to her. Pretending his little digs at her composure didn’t bother her would carry far more weight. When he saw that he couldn’t get to her in that way he would surely let it go.
“I liked his jokes,” she went on in hopes of losing her self in the past. She worked hard not to do that on a regular basis; doing so now was a stab at keeping her mind off how being this close to Joe Hennessey unnerved her. It shouldn’t, but it did.
“Yeah, he was a jokester,” Joe murmured.
His voice had thickened a little from the action of the painkiller. If she were lucky he’d fall asleep soon. His body needed the rest. Whether he realized it or not his whole system was working hard to heal his new wounds which diverted strength and energy from other aspects of his existence. He didn’t need to fight the process.
Some thing he’d said in the ambulance, about lying, pinged her memory. She’d have to ask him about that later when he was further along in his recovery.
“So he was nice,” Joe reiterated, “and he could tell a joke. Is that why you fell for him?”
His lids had drifted shut now. He wouldn’t last much longer. Elizabeth was glad. She stared at their joined hands. Hers smooth and pale, his rougher, far darker as if he spent most of his time on a beach some where.
As she watched, his fingers slackened, lay loose between hers. His respiration was deep and slow. She doubted he would hear her answer even if she bothered to give one. But he’d asked, why not respond?
“No, Agent Hennessey, those are not the reasons I fell for him.” She paused and when he didn’t correct her she knew he was down for the count. “I fell for him because he was like you,” she confessed, her voice barely a whisper. “He made me feel things that terrified me and, at the same time, made me feel alive.” As hard as she’d tried not to look back and see her self as stupid, she couldn’t help it. She’d been so damned foolish.
“And look where it got me,” she muttered, annoyed with her self for dredging up the memories.
With every intention of leaving the room she started to pull her hand from the big, warm cradle of his and his fingers abruptly closed firmly around hers.