"Go ahead and say it, 'Lise."
"Obviously, I don't need to." The papers slid from her hands in a scattered mess, making lie of her seeming calm.
Not unlike the mess he was making of this conversation. "You'll feel better if you chew me out."
A dry smile twitched as she collected the pages. "I doubt it."
Talk, damn it. Shout. Care enough to fight back so he would have a clue what she was thinking. Then he could plan a counter-defense. Strategize so they wouldn't self-destruct their relationship this time.
He shot to his feet. His boots traced a restless path on the hardwood floor, across the brown braid rug, back and forth in front of the stone fireplace. He needed action. Decisions. All the waiting and inaction left him with too much time to think about the past.
Flashes of his nightmare had him ready to snap like one of those trip wires strung under the cabin. Watching her distance herself from him didn't help. He needed reassurance she wouldn't bolt, not a helluva lot to ask.
Damn it, he wanted to lock her up tight beside him so he wouldn't have to worry about her day and night. "We should probably try to find something in the same school district so the boys aren't uprooted again."
"What?" She tucked the papers in her suitcase.
He paced over to the computers, checked again, found the same uninhabited security picture of sunrise filtering over the deserted beach. Nothing but a pelican and some egrets hunting for breakfast. Alarms stayed silent.
Action. Even a simple e-mail from Max would give him something to do. He would settle for anything that would make him shut up before his rambling mouth pushed her away for good. "A house on the water is out of my price range, but then with Austin around, it wouldn't really be safe or practical long-term, anyway. Buying an older home, we can get more space, but then I don't want you to be stuck dealing with the extra repairs when I'm TDY."
"Daniel."
"Yeah, 'Lise?"
"Slow down." Her hand fell to his arm.
"Oh, yeah, right." He dropped onto a bar stool, his booted foot twitched on the lowest rung. Tap. Tap.
"I didn't mean your pacing."
"Oh." He frowned. What the hell had he been saying anyway? Something about house hunting, an attempt at making something happen to relieve the stretched-taut inaction when what he really wanted was to nail McRae to the wall.
And to make Mary Elise stay. Houses. Duh. His subconscious was having a field day with him. Way to steam-roll the woman. "Hang on a second. I think I know what I'm supposed to say here. Uh, what kind of house do you want?"
She perched on the other stool beside him, her hands gliding up his thighs in an obvious attempt to distract him. "Danny, this isn't the time to take such a big step with life decisions."
"Why the hell not?" His frustrations swelled to the surface, inconvenient as hell when he knew calm would work better. But his feelings for Mary Elise were anything but placid. "Is it my job? I know the gun safe and the traps freaked you out. Damn, Mary Elise, I realize I'm not offering you much of a deal here, but I'll do my best to make it work for you. I can even back off the secret stuff, stick with more straightforward missions."
He trailed his fingers down a strand of her auburn hair as if he could bind her to him, pull her slim body to him and give her something to do with their mouths so she would quit worrying her rings in circles around her fingers.
"It's not your job. God, I know it's a part of you." She stroked up to his chest, tracing his collar, dipping inside to hook in his dog tags, tug him forward. "And if this past year has taught me anything, I know that life is dangerous no matter what you do. We should live to the fullest."
"Exactly." He manacled her wrist in his grip. "I understand that logic and facts indicate I'm not the best bet for the long haul, but determination can't be gauged, and damn it, I'm hell-bent set on making this work. So why are you holding back from me again?"
Her hand fell to her lap. "Why is it that if someone doesn't go along with your way, then they're holding back?"
Echoes of other arguments pummeled him, nose-to-nose battles with his father, defensive confrontations with the squadron commander. But, damn it, those had been different situations. "Do you love me?"
Where the hell had that come from? His dream.
"Yes."
Say it back, dumb ass. "Then what exactly did I offer up that was so hell-fire terrible? A house?" He fished in his sleeve pocket and pulled out the solitaire. "Or God forbid I should give you a ring."
He held it with two fingers, a silent question between them. Say it back, Baker. His mouth stayed closed.
She folded her hands over his, held his hands in hers without taking the ring. At least she wasn't shoving it in his face. Yet.