Until You

"So, why not do it again?" Miranda sighed and shook her head. "A lovely thought but I'm afraid I've got a shoot in the morning. The camera picks up every under-eye shadow." She smiled, reached out and gently patted his cheek. "You know how it is."

Conor's fingers closed, hard around her wrist and he pushed her hand away.

"Oh yeah," he said softly, "I know exactly how it is. You have an itch, you scratch it. That's the story of your life, isn't that right, Beckman?"

He didn't wait for her to answer, which was good because she wasn't sure she could have managed to come up with one, not while her throat was constricting.

With studied nonchalance, he sauntered back into the bedroom and collected his clothes. She waited until he'd strolled into the hallway and shut the door behind him; then she stepped into the shower, turned the faucet to hot and grabbed the soap.

How long would she have to scrub, before she felt clean again?

* * *

It was bitter cold, and the streets were deserted.

And one hell of a night for a man's cell phone to give up the ghost.

Conor blew on his hands and stamped his feet as he stood in the phone booth he'd finally located and waited for his call to go through.

"Come on, Harry," he muttered, "what the hell's taking so long?"

It was, what, almost midnight in the States. Thurston had to be home; he had to hear his damn telephone ringing.

"Hello?"

"It's me, Harry."

"Conor, where in blazes are you? I've been trying your mobile for hours."

"Yeah, well, it isn't working."

"Do tell. Listen, my boy—"

"No, Harry, old pal, you listen. I'm out of here."

"I beg your pardon?"

A truck rumbled by. Conor waited until he saw it turn the corner before he spoke again.

"I said, I'm signing off the Winthrop thing."

"Conor, don't be hasty."

"Hasty, my ass. I'm done. Finished. I'm out of here. I'm coming back to the good old U.S. of A., pronto."

"What's happened?"

"Nothings happened. Enough is enough, that's all."

"But why?"

"Don't push it, Harry."

"Conor," Harry said, his voice growing soft and persuasive, "I can tell you're upset."

"I'm not upset. And don't bother trying to sweet-talk me. Just find yourself another patsy."

Harry's sigh wheezed over the satellite connection as clearly as if he were in the next room.