Legends Lost

This is ridiculous, thinks Amanda as she closes her hotel room for the second — or is it third? — time. She’d thought she’d heard Lee’s door open at least once since the shower in Francine’s room started to run, but when she checked, there’d only been an empty hallway.

It’s worse than musical chairs.

She should, she knows, just get ready for bed. It’s late. They have a full schedule in the morning.

Instead, she still stands by the door, listening for footsteps, for anything, in the hallway.

Lee’s been so distant ever since Joe came back into town. Tonight, though, especially toward the end, he’d almost been his old flirtatious self, to the point he actually made a pass at her. A pass! At her!

What kind of field work?

You know.

Oh, yes. She knows. And she’d been sending a message when she’d invited him into her room for coffee. Neither one of them cares for decaf.

Francine’s shower shuts off, and the hallway outside is still quiet. Amanda shakes her head. Why is she still standing at the door? The moment had passed as quickly as it came; there will be no pointed — if indirect — questions tonight. Why has Lee been so distant? Does he actually think she’d ever even consider getting back together with Joe?

Doesn’t he know her better than that by now?

All right, Amanda tells herself. One more time. Then I’m going to bed, no matter what. Even if, she decides, she doesn’t sleep because she’s thinking too much about this.

Careful to keep the hinges from squeaking, she cracks the hotel room door and peers out toward Lee’s. It’s just a crack. She’s not going to stick her head out this time, especially since there’s probably nothing to see —

Then her eyes flick up, and meet Lee’s. His door’s cracked open about the same distance as hers.

They stare at each other, neither moving, until Amanda suddenly needs to breathe. Exhaling softly and silently, she opens her door another two inches. Still not all the way, but enough to be clearly visible.

His eyes light up and his mouth falls open slightly, but a moment after that, he’s in the hallway, making sure to lock his door. Amanda steps aside to let him through her own door —

And finds herself pushed back against that door, his hand closing over hers to throw the latch. Before she can make a sound, his mouth is on hers, gentle but hot, sweet but demanding, overwhelming yet achingly familiar. Yes. This was what they’d both been thinking about, and both of them know it.

His hands cradle her head as he deepens the kiss, and she responds wholeheartedly, wrapping her arms around his waist to pull him closer. It isn’t a moment to think about, or analyze. It’s one to be felt, and she’s more than willing. Questions can come later.

The tip of Lee’s tongue teases her lips, and she parts them in reply, unable to keep a whimper from slipping out when she does so. She’s nearly forgotten what it’s like to kiss him, and doing it like this? Without cover of darkness or a case? It’s so much better than she remembers.

He presses against her, deepening the kiss even further, whispering against her mouth, and she can’t hold back another moan. This is amazing. It’s glorious. Why have they waited so long to —

Then she hears what he’s whispering.

He can’t have you. Not now. Not this time. Tell him it’s too late. He can’t go —

Amanda shoves him away hard. They’re both gasping as they break apart.

She finds her voice first. “Is that what you’ve been thinking?”

Lee blinks. “What?”

“Don’t pretend with me, Lee Stetson! You’re only over here because you’re afraid I’m back with Joe!”

“It’s not that simple —”

“I think it is.” She pushes off the door, stalking past him into the middle of the hotel room. She needs space.

He follows, but doesn’t reach for her. “Amanda, wait —”

“No.” She whirls, facing him. “No. If you don’t know me better than that by now, then you don’t know me at all!” She shakes her head, unsure if she’s more embarrassed or angry. “And if — if —” if this is what it takes to actually get you to do something, maybe we’re both imagining things! “I’m not some prize to be fought over, especially because Joe’s not fighting!”

“No, Amanda, that’s not —”

She can feel tears threatening now, and darn it, she is not going to let Lee see those. Amanda paces back to the door, opening it wide, though she keeps her voice down. “We have an early morning. Go get some sleep.”

He takes a breath before nodding. “All right. And I’m — I’m sorry — it’s not —”

“Lee,” she interrupts, and she’s suddenly exhausted. Bone-deep weariness. “Just — good night. All right?”

He pauses just outside her door, looking back with an expression that’s equal parts guilty, forlorn, and accepting. “Good night, Amanda. Sleep well.”

After closing and locking the door, she falls against it again, but this time it’s forward, leaning her forehead against it while she tries to process what just happened. Musical chairs, indeed! More like a game of duck-duck-goose on uneven ground, the kind where everyone ends up tripping and falling before it’s over.

Wow, she thinks. You’re really reaching with that metaphor, Amanda. Maybe you’re more tired than you thought.

She pushes back up to a stand, sighing heavily. The most ridiculous part of the past several minutes is that it really is late, and they really do have a busy day ahead.

Maybe, she reflects as she starts to undress, that’s a good thing.

If they’re busy, they won’t have to talk about what’s happened tonight. She’s not ready to do that. She has no idea when she will be.

Not if this is the way things are going.

It’s unseasonably warm for late December; Amanda has a jacket over her sweater, but there’s no need for coats or hats. They’ve dropped anchor, out here in the harbor, for just a little while, and Lee’s shooed her out of the Mata Hari II’s kitchen. “If you want me to cook, then let me cook.”

It would only be fair for him to cook tonight, she decides. After all, she cooked last night, though it had to be simple fare. Neither of them had thought to bring groceries with them for this quick jaunt, so they’d been limited to whatever they could find in the pantry. Which was mostly canned items. Last night, Amanda had combined corned beef hash and green beans. It had been edible, but certainly not the best thing she’d ever made.

They’d finished anyway, and then ended up staying up well past midnight sipping on wine.

She leans forward, resting her arms against the rail, listening to the sounds of the harbor at night. The murmur of water lapping at the ketch’s hull. The sails, loosely furled, flapping a little in the breeze. Every now and then there’s a whisper of what might be feathers, even though it’s not the right time of year for sea birds.

The air itself is soft, gentle against the skin of her face. It’s a beautiful night. Amanda inhales deeply, trying to simply be in the moment.

She can’t.

How soon will Mr. Melrose want their report? How will they describe the fact that they missed finding Bart by just that much, the first time they’d looked? And what is she going to tell her mother and the boys when she’s late getting home tonight — especially since she was gone all night last night? She’s a creative person, but she’s starting to run out of ideas for cover stories.

One drawback of a mind like hers is that it’s never silent. It ruminates over details, worries about possibilities, looks for patterns and connections that might not even be there. And the more she tries to shut it down, to simply rest and be, the louder it gets.

The case is over, Amanda, she tells herself.

The cacophony in her mind doesn’t even slow down.

With a deep sigh, she lets her head fall forward onto her arms. It’s always been this way. She can stay quiet. She can keep physically still. But she can almost never stop the whirling thoughts in her head. Even when she desperately wants to. Such as now, when all she wants to do is to just take it all in.

The sound of ceramic on wood brings her out of her reverie. The smell of canned stew reaches her nose right around the same time.

“You could have just called me back below,” she tells Lee.

“Nah.” He’s also carrying a bowl for himself. “Too pretty out here.”

Amanda picks up her bowl, tastes the stew. He’s added some spices, the kind that bring out the rich heartiness of the beef and the vegetables’ rich flavors. “I like what you’ve done here.”

“Good.”

For several minutes, there’s just the sound of spoons clinking against bowls as they eat. Amanda’s surprised to realize she’s hungry. But the stew is a good, thick one, and he’s brought out portions that are generous without being overwhelming. She wonders if he did the same thing she did last night: split the can between them, taking slightly more for himself, of course. But not much more.

She closes her eyes. Analyzing again, when she could be simply enjoying the meal. Come on, she tells her thoughts, be quiet and focus!

There’s another soft clink of ceramic on wood. Lee’s done. She takes her own last two bites and puts her used bowl and spoon next to his. They can take them below in a minute.

Lee has his thumbs hooked in his belt loops, face raised into the quiet night. “Beautiful out here.”

“Yes,” she agrees.

“Quiet. Peaceful.”

I wish, she thinks, but she says nothing.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him smile in the shifting lights. Then there’s a touch on her waist, his hands gently guiding her back into his chest, his arms settling and lingering, warm around her. She inhales slowly, desperate to at least stop and enjoy this.

And her mind goes quiet.

At first, she’s off-balance. It’s strange, this silence. Unusual. She needs a couple of slow, even breaths to relax into it.

Lee’s lips ghost against her temple before his chin comes to rest onto her shoulder. He’s holding her close, but not tight. She can hear his breathing, soft and steady, perfectly matching the quiet, even thumping against her left shoulder blade.

Amanda’s last thoughts spiral down into the silence. Now there’s just sensation: his body warmth, the gentle breeze, the water quietly lapping. There’s a lingering scent, echoing the spices he’d used on the stew.

She’s not sure how long they stay like that, simply watching the night together.

“I’m glad we stopped,” Lee finally says. “Even if just for a little while.”

“Yes,” she whispers. “I am too. It’s such a beautiful night.”

“And you’re so comfortable,” he continues. “Have I ever told you that?”

“No.”

“I’ll need to make sure I mention it more often, then.”

She’s not sure how long they stay like this, either, but it’s enough. For this moment, everything is enough.