Harm’s headstone was the same color as his eyes.

Mac had no idea why that thought should strike her, but it was true. The smooth marble was exactly the same shade of gray. A fresh wave of grief swept over her, threatening to send her to her knees. She’d never see those gray eyes again, never marvel at how they could change color in an instant, turning blue or green or even a color that was almost violet.

But what she would miss the most was the dusky, smoky shade of his eyes when they filled with a scorching desire for her – a desire that had remained unfulfilled.

She’d always thought they would have lots of time, that when things weren’t so...complicated...they would finally set aside all of the things that had kept them apart. But then Harm died, and Mac was left to stand here at his grave and mourn all of the things that would never be.

A sob burst from her throat as she laid a hand on the cold hard stone. If only she could turn back time. If only she had one more chance...

Mac awoke abruptly, her face wet with tears. The images from her dream faded slowly, but the lingering sense of grief was harder to shake. The dream felt so real, she had to quash the sudden urge to phone him, just to hear his voice, to know he was all right. It was two o’clock in the morning. Harm would be sound asleep and wouldn’t appreciate a late-night interruption from a neurotic partner.

It took some effort, but she finally managed to go back to sleep. Still, she felt vaguely hung over when her alarm went off a few hours later. Glad it was Saturday, she hit the snooze button, but a deep restlessness forced her out of bed a few minutes later.

All through her morning routine, she kept telling herself that she was being silly, that the dream was just her overactive imagination kicking into high gear. After all, Harm was leaving today to do his carrier quals and ever since his near-fatal punch-out a year and a half ago, she always got nervous as she watched the excitement mount in his eyes.

Mac had already said goodbye to him yesterday. He’d said he’d be back before she knew it. She’d made a point of wishing him luck. She wasn’t about to make that mistake again. Still, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the last vestiges of unease. She finally gave in and grabbed her coat. It was only seven a.m., but Harm was an early riser.

As she drove to his apartment, Mac’s nervousness changed from concern to the feeling she was about to make a fool of herself. She didn’t really have a reason to show up at his door so early on a Saturday morning, but another part of herself wouldn’t let her chicken out.

When he opened the apartment door, she nearly turned and fled. He had obviously just gotten out of the shower. He stood before her wearing nothing but jeans. The USN towel draped around his neck did little to hide the powerful muscles of his chest. Surprise written all over his face, he lifted one corner of the towel, swiping at his damp, spiky hair. "Mac! What are you doing here?"

For a moment, her throat clamped shut, but she managed to recover and flash him a smile. "Is that any way to greet a friend?"

He chuckled and swung the door wide. "Point taken. Come on in."

She stepped inside but her earlier nerve was beginning to desert her. "I...I can’t stay long. I just came by to...give you something."

Before she could stop herself – as she had so many times in the past – she stepped forward. Putting both hands on his chest, she reached up and kissed him.

She felt him tense with surprise but an instant later the tension changed as he responded to the kiss. He leaned forward slightly, pressing close as his lips turned soft and pliant.

Beneath her hands, the hard muscles of his chest tightened even further. His hands had been wrapped around the towel when she started the kiss. Now they began to move, sliding slowly down the towel. He reached for her, but she was already beginning to draw back, suddenly afraid of the intense waves flowing through them both.

Somehow, though, her hands weren’t quite ready to leave the warm strength of his chest, so she stood, looking up into eyes that were the color of a stormy sea.

"What was that for?" he whispered.

Her own voice came out ragged and breathless. "For luck."

Before Harm could even come close to formulating a reply, Mac gave him a small, enigmatic smile and disappeared, closing the door softly behind her. His heart hammering against his ribs, he stared at the door. What the...?

Where did that come from, he wondered. She was probably just worried about him doing his quals, but she’d never kissed him like that before!

The memory of the searing heat of her lips on his, her hands branding his chest with a fire he couldn’t hope to ignore – he relived it all in the space of a heartbeat. He’d burned within her fire, even as he sensed her struggle to keep it from overwhelming them both. She hadn’t quite succeeded. He’d just had a shower, but he suddenly had the feeling he was going to need another one – a cold one.

All the way back to her apartment, Mac berated herself for her juvenile antics. Kissing him then running away like that was worthy of a ten-year-old! How would she ever be able to face him when he got back from the carrier? She could always hope he would forget about it in the excitement of flying again, but somehow she doubted it.

She could always plead temporary insanity, but kissing Harm didn’t feel crazy. It felt right – more right than a lot of things she’d done in her life. All she had to do now was figure out a way to tell him that.

USS SEAHAWK – The next day

Harm was always a little surprised at how quickly he slipped back into the routine of shipboard life. It was as though he’d never been away. He’d already done two of his daylight traps, but the other two would have to wait. An unexpected air recon mission was underway. Harm itched to be out there with them, doing it all for real, but instead, he was sitting in the mess, twiddling his thumbs.

He couldn’t stand it any longer. Setting aside the cup of cold coffee he’d been nursing, he pushed to his feet. If he couldn’t be part of the action, he could at least get a little closer to it.

Stepping out of the mess, he headed for the weather deck. He heard a scuffle of footsteps behind him and started to turn. There was an agonizing blow, a blinding flash of light, then everything went dark.

JAG HQ – 13:00

Engrossed in reading, Mac jumped at the unexpected knock on her door. She looked up to see a worried looking Tiner, his knuckles still raised to the doorframe. "Ma’am, the admiral would like to see you ASAP."

"I’ll be right there, Tiner. Thank you."

"Yes ma’am."

He disappeared like a scared rabbit as Mac set her reference book aside, forcing down the unease that skittered up her spine. There was no reason to assume something was wrong. The admiral probably needed some information, or maybe he had a new case for her.

But the moment she stepped into his office, Mac knew the admiral didn’t have a new case for her. He wore a scowl that filled the room. He waved her to a chair. "I’ve just received word from the Seahawk. Cmdr. Rabb has been missing since approximately twelve-hundred our time."

Mac’s heart stuttered in her chest. God, no! Not again! She willed her voice to stay steady long enough to ask, "Do they know where he went down?"

"Colonel, he didn’t go down while flying. The quals were postponed for an unscheduled mission. Cmdr. Rabb was relieved for the afternoon. He left the flight deck and no one has seen him since." The admiral took a deep breath and his expression took on that almost fatherly compassion she’d learned to dread. "Mac, they think he might have gone overboard."

Mac stepped off the helo onto the deck of the Seahawk, shadowed by a deep, icy fear. Harm should be here. She should see his tall, lean form striding forward to greet her, one of those dazzling grins on his face. Instead, a lieutenant she’d never met before jogged up to her. Saluting, he leaned forward to shout over the noise. "Ma’am, I’m Lt. Carson, shipboard JAG. The skipper is waiting for you."

Mac nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way. "Any news?" she asked as soon as they were away from the noise of the flight deck.

"No ma’am, I’m afraid not. We’ve conducted an extensive search of the ship."

"Have you found anything at all?"

"Nothing. Everyone is completely baffled. Cmdr. Rabb just disappeared without a trace."

"Well I don’t believe for one minute that he fell overboard," she said adamantly.

Carson stopped so quickly she almost ran into him. "You don’t?"

"Not a chance," Mac insisted. "Cmdr. Rabb is more at home on a carrier than I am in my own apartment."

"We’ve searched the entire ship, ma’am, literally from stem to stern. If he didn’t go overboard, where is he?"

"That’s what we’re going to find out, Lieutenant."

Mac followed Carson to the bridge and reported to the captain. He immediately took her aside and outlined the efforts that had been made so far. She listened in silence, the sick feeling in her stomach growing by the minute.

"Sir," she said when he finished, "it’s obvious you’ve been very thorough, but with all due respect, you must have missed something. He has to be somewhere on this ship."

"Colonel, we’d all like to believe that, but we have to be realistic," he replied.

"I am," she insisted, hating the way his tone had turned a little softer, almost gentle. "I know how this is going to sound, Skipper, but I don’t believe Cmdr. Rabb is dead."

The captain’s face folded into a scowl. "What are you basing this on?"

Mac had been dreading that question. "Call it intuition if you want, sir, but I call it knowing Cmdr. Rabb. I’ve worked with him for years in all kinds of situations. In some ways, I probably know him better than I know myself. He’s no more likely to fall overboard than you are, sir."

The captain was silent a moment. Mac could almost hear the wheels turning in his head. He knew Harm, too.

Lt. Carson stepped forward. "Sir, I’ve never met Cmdr. Rabb, so I don’t understand why it’s so unlikely. Accidents do happen, Skipper."

"Yes, Lieutenant, they do, but the colonel has a point. Rabb wasn’t a green recruit. He knew the ropes. With the precautions this ship has in place, falling overboard by accident isn’t easy in any case." He turned to Mac. "Colonel, are you suggesting he had help?"

A deep resolve settled over her. "No, sir. I’m suggesting he didn’t go overboard at all. He is on this ship!"

Harm awoke to a world of total darkness. When he tried to stretch and ease the ache in his shoulders, he discovered where the ache came from. His hands were tied behind his back. His feet were also bound. There was tape on his mouth and a cloth blindfold over his eyes. Rubbing his head against his shoulder, he managed to dislodge the blindfold, but it didn’t help. He was still surrounded by utter void.

His head throbbed painfully. His mind was pretty foggy, but the last thing he remembered was leaving the mess, on his way to the weather deck. There was someone behind him, then...

Nothing made sense. Why would someone whack him on the head, tie him up and leave him? He wasn’t here investigating a JAG case; he was only doing his quals. Deciding those answers would have to wait, he turned to the more immediate problem. Where was he and how was he going to get out?

Rolling over, he managed to sit up, then using his heels, turned in a full circle, exploring the space before him with his feet. There was nothing close enough to touch. He was sitting on cold, hard steel – the deck, obviously – and he could hear the steady throbbing of the engines. He was still on board the Seahawk, he was sure of that, but where the hell was he?

As she followed Carson down to the JAG office, Mac tried to objectively examine her conviction. Was it just wishful thinking, denial born of the desperate attempt to avoid a painful reality? It didn’t feel that way. She really didn’t know why she felt so strongly, but she did. She just knew Harm was alive, and if he was alive, he had to be somewhere on the ship.

Before she left the bridge, she’d asked the XO to have the last person to see Harm report to the JAG office. One of the flight control officers was waiting for them when she and Carson arrived.

Lt. Westman came to attention as Mac entered the room. "As you were," she told him. "I know Lt. Carson has already spoken with you, but I’d like to ask you a few questions."

"Yes, ma’am."

"You spoke to Cmdr. Rabb on the flight deck after the quals were cancelled?"

"Yes, ma’am. He was...well, he wasn’t happy, ma’am. I think he wanted to join the mission, but the skipper had already sent word down that he was relieved for the day."

"Was he upset?" Carson asked.

The FCO frowned. "Upset? I suppose you could put it that way."

"Upset enough that he wasn’t paying attention to where he was going?" Carson added.

It was Mac’s turn to frown, but she kept quiet for the moment. Lt. Westman shook his head. "No, he was a little ticked is all."

"Did you actually see him leave the flight deck?" Mac asked.

"Yes, ma’am. He went below as a couple other officers were coming out."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. You’re excused for now, but I might want to talk to you again."

"Yes ma’am." Westman nodded to Carson on his way out.

Mac turned to Carson the moment the hatch closed. "If Cmdr. Rabb left the flight deck, then his going overboard makes even less sense. Why would he go back on deck after leaving?"

"I don’t know, ma’am. Maybe he forgot something, or needed to talk to someone."

"That doesn’t compute either. He wouldn’t interrupt anyone on the deck during a launch," she said with certainty. "How long have you been aboard, Lieutenant?"

"Me? Only about a month," he replied. "Why?"

"I was wondering how familiar you are with the personnel files. We need to start going through the files, looking for anyone who might have a grudge against the commander. Unfortunately, he’s been aboard on many occasions, both as a JAG officer and an aviator."

"So he’s come into contact with a lot of people on board. Going through the files on five thousand odd sailors is going to take a lot of time, ma’am."

"I know," she admitted. "But at the moment, it’s all we’ve got to go on."

Carson suddenly straightened. "Ma’am, permission to speak freely?"

"Granted," she replied cautiously.

"Ma’am, I realize you worked with Cmdr. Rabb, but the reality of the situation seems pretty clear to me. Why are you so adamant that he didn’t go overboard, either by accident or with help?"

"Why are you so sure he did?" she countered. "This is a big ship, Lieutenant. There must be all kinds of nooks and crannies. I can’t believe you’re so certain every single one of them has been searched."

"I agree there’s a lot of places to look, Colonel, but I assisted in the search myself. I know how many people the skipper had combing this ship. If he’s here, we would have found him."

Mac regarded the young lieutenant silently for a moment. That sixth sense of hers was tingling sharply. Carson seemed almost too adamant. It’s a new billet for him, she reminded herself. He’s probably just making sure everyone knows he’s doing a thorough job. But the niggling feeling wouldn’t go away. Something didn’t quite add up here.

"All right, let’s assume every plausible space has been searched. What about the implausible ones? Has anyone considered the voids?" she asked, thinking of the grisly discovery made in the void of the Hornet a few years ago.

"The ship’s voids are sealed, all except one area that was recently opened for maintenance, but I checked that area myself," Carson replied.

Frustration welled up inside Mac, threatening to overwhelm her. There had to be something they were missing! She needed to think. "I’m going to check out a few things. I’ll talk to you later."

"Yes, ma’am."

Leaving the office, Mac roamed the ship, ending up on the weather deck. It didn’t surprise her that she should come to this spot. Other than the cockpit of a Tomcat, this was Harm’s favorite place on the ship.

She thought of the many times they had shared this space. In those moments, she felt closer to Harm than virtually any other time. He was different up here, more open, exposed. His guard came down when he was up here. Mac felt as though she could witness the elemental part of him that made him who he was. She saw the longing in his eyes as he watched jet after jet take off without him. She saw the love of flying, the pride of serving his country, and the frustration when he couldn’t combine the two.

Gripping the rail till her knuckles turned white, she fought down a wave of despair. "Oh, Harm," she whispered. "Where are you?"

Mac stayed on the weather deck for a long time, watching the activity on the flight deck or just looking at the waves on the wide expanse of ocean stretched out before her. She refused to believe Harm was out there somewhere, a cold, lifeless corpse floating unseen and alone. She refused to believe her last memory of him would be seeing him looking down at her with eyes as stormy and turbulent as the waves.

With renewed determination, she left the deck, going below to look for Carson. She found him in the officers’ mess, talking with another lieutenant. Carson’s back was to her and he didn’t see her come in. He was gesturing to his friend, waving a hand for emphasis. "You should have heard them talk about him. It’s like he’s some kind of god. I was half expecting Col. MacKenzie to say that if he’d fallen overboard, he’d just walk across the water and climb back aboard. They guy’s only human, for crying out loud!"

Very quietly, Mac backed out of the mess before either man saw her. Her sixth sense wasn’t just tingling now, it was vibrating! She was almost certain Carson had something to do with Harm’s disappearance, but without proof, she was reluctant to confront him. She was still convinced Harm was alive, but if she made accusations she couldn’t back up, he might not stay that way.

Mac’s temper was beginning to boil. If she was right, then Carson knew where Harm was, but short of getting him alone for a few minutes and exercising her hand-to-hand combat skills, she didn’t know how to make him tell her.

Mac stopped dead in her tracks. Maybe he already had!

Five minutes later, she and the XO, accompanied by two crewmen, were on their way to a forward section of the void, the one opened for maintenance. "What makes you think we should recheck the void?" the XO asked.

"Just a hunch," she replied, not willing to share her suspicions just yet.

Standing by with a flashlight, Mac waited nervously while the crewmen unsealed the void. The moment it was open, she clicked on the flashlight and stepped through. The void was cold and stale-smelling. Mac suppressed a shiver as she played the light around the interior. A movement caught her eye and she trained the light back to that spot. The beam pooled on the one thing she had been so desperately hoping to see – Harm’s face.

Rushing to his side, Mac worked frantically to untie his hands while the XO removed the tape from his mouth and one of the crewmen untied his legs. Harm was shivering uncontrollably. His face was haggard and drawn, but he didn’t seem to be seriously injured.

"Are you all right?" she asked quickly. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

"No," he croaked. "Just cold and hungry. Get me out of here."

A few minutes later, Harm was on his way to sickbay and Mac was on her way to find Carson. She was glad the XO was with her. He was big enough to keep her from doing something stupid.

Carson was in the JAG office, working at the desk. He glanced up when Mac came through the hatch, the XO on her heels, and leapt to his feet. Mac strode up to him, stopping mere inches from his face. "Lt. Carson, you are under arrest for kidnapping, attempted murder, and a few other things I’ll add as they come to me."

The blood drained from Carson’s face. "I...I don’t understand."

"I’ll bet you don’t," Mac snarled. "We found Cmdr. Rabb, right where you left him."

Carson babbled some weak protest, but Mac didn’t bother listening. She was too busy controlling the urge to wrap her hands around his scrawny little neck. Almost by rote, she advised him of his Article Thirty-One rights, then watched as the XO gestured for an armed guard to escort Carson to the brig.

The XO also watched him go. "As long as he denies involvement, we may never know what his motive was."

"I’m hoping Cmdr. Rabb can shed some light on that," she replied. "I’m going to sickbay to see if he’s in any shape to talk yet."

Mac hurried down to sickbay where the doctor was just finishing up with Harm. The doctor stepped out from behind a privacy screen and stopped abruptly, startled by her presence. Mac was too anxious to care. "How is he?"

"Remarkably well, considering how long he spent in the void. We’ll be releasing him tomorrow morning and he should be able to return to duty in a day or two. You can see for yourself," he added, gesturing to the privacy screen dividing the room in half, "but don’t stay too long. I’d like him to get some rest."

With a nod, Mac slipped around the screen. Harm lay on one of the beds, buried under a couple of heavy blankets. He glanced over when she came in and Mac swore she saw his expression soften. "Hey, Marine."

"Hey, yourself." She tried for a teasing tone, but couldn’t keep it up. "Are you really all right?"

He gave her a grin, but it was a little weak. "There’s nothing wrong with me that a sandwich, a glass of water and a good night’s sleep won’t cure."

Mac tried to smile back, but it felt forced. He really did look all right, but...

He held a hand out to her. "Hey, come here."

It was then that she realized she had been unconsciously hanging back, reluctant to approach too closely, but she didn’t know why. Pushing aside the strange feeling, she stepped forward, taking his hand. His still chilled fingers wrapped tightly around hers. "How did you find me?"

"I played a hunch. Harm, I’m certain Lt. Carson was responsible for this."

A frown distorted his features. "Carson? The JAG officer? Why?"

"I was hoping you could answer that. He’s denying everything, but I’m sure he’s involved. He claimed he searched the void where we found you."

"That proves he’s inept. It doesn’t mean—"

"It wasn’t just that," she told him. "He’s been acting strange ever since I got here. You don’t have any idea why he might have had it in for you?"

"Not a clue. I’ve never even met the man."

Mac shook her head as a whole new frustration settled inside her. "Well, we’ll figure it out. I’m just glad you’re all right."

He gave her hand a squeeze. "Thanks to you."

"All I did was play a hunch," she said with a smile. Reluctantly, she slipped her hand from his. "You need to get some sleep. I’ll talk to you later, okay?"

He nodded. "I am pretty tired. It’s hard to get a decent night’s sleep on a cold deck."

Mac chuckled, fighting the urge to brush the hair from his forehead. "I’ll see you," she said softly.

His eyelids were already drifting shut when she slipped quietly out of the room.

Mac stepped out of sickbay, intent on getting to the brig to question Carson, but the moment she shut the hatch, a wave of relief rolled over her, so intense it threatened to knock her off her feet. From the moment she’d heard Harm was missing, she’d been running on adrenaline, keeping her fear at bay with sheer determination. Now that he was safe, her buffer zone evaporated.

Knees shaking, she leaned against the bulkhead for a moment. Suck it up, Marine, she ordered silently. Harm was fine. He’d beaten the odds – again. Mac had lost count of all the times she’d come close to losing him. Despite her steadfast resolve that he was alive, she realized now that there was a small part of her that had been terrified this would be the one time he wouldn’t beat the odds, that her nightmare would come true and she’d be left with nothing but a gravestone and a heart full of regret.

Carson was sitting on his rack in a cell when Mac came into the brig. He was a little slow to rise but Mac let that slide, for now. She motioned for the guard to open the cell door. "Step out, Lieutenant."

Carson did as he was ordered. Mac waved to a chair at a small wooden table in the middle of the room. Carson hesitated, then took a seat. Mac sat down across the table from him. "Want to tell me why you did it?"

"I didn’t do it, ma’am. I don’t understand why no one will believe me. I don’t know Cmdr. Rabb. What possible motive could I have?"

"You tell me," she spat.

"None!" he insisted. "And since I am innocent, I’d appreciate hearing what evidence you have against me, ma’am. I’m sure I can explain anything you think is incriminating."

Mac wanted to tear that smug attitude out of him through his throat, but kept her voice steady and calm. "For starters, Cmdr. Rabb was found in a void you claimed you searched."

"I did search it, and it was empty," he replied adamantly. "Whoever did kidnap him must have moved him there after I searched it."

"Moved him," she repeated. "They just dragged him through the ship without anyone noticing."

"I don’t know how they did it," Carson shot back.

"Well, I’m sure Cmdr. Rabb will confirm if he was moved, but I seriously doubt it." Was it her imagination, or did Carson suddenly look a little stricken, like maybe he hadn’t thought of that angle.

"Is that the only evidence you have?" he asked quickly.

"No, it’s not. From the moment I came on board, you tried your damnedest to get me to forget about the search. Why is that, Lieutenant? Were you afraid something like this might happen, that someone else might recheck that void and discover your little secret?"

"No! I was just trying to be realistic. I honestly thought he’d taken a header over the side, ma’am. I thought he was dead!"

"Really? Then why were you referring to him in the present tense in the mess?"

Shock knocked the wind out of Carson’s sails for a moment, but he rallied quickly. "It was just a slip of the tongue!"

Palms flat on the table, Mac rose slowly to her feet, leaning over the table. "I don’t think so, Lieutenant. I think you knew all along that he was in that void. What were you going to do, wait until late one night and pitch him over the side, or were you just going to leave him in there to starve?"

The real possibility that Harm could have slowly starved to death in that cold, black emptiness landed on Mac with the force of a pile-driver. Without conscious thought, she found herself on the other side of the table, Carson’s shirtfront in her hands as she yanked him nearly out of his chair. "You bastard! It’s a damned good thing we did find him, or you’d be—"

One of the guards grabbed her shoulders, hauling her back and forcing her to let go of Carson. "Ma’am! Colonel!"

His urgent shout snapped her back from the red haze surrounding her. She forced herself to calm down. "All right, all right. I’m fine now." She shrugged out of his grasp, glaring at Carson as she told the guard, "Put him back in the cell."

Spinning on her heel, Mac strode out of the room.

Mac had a hard time getting to sleep that night. She kept telling herself it was because of the noise that was unavoidable on a carrier, but she knew it wasn’t true. She was still bothered by her outburst at Carson. She shouldn’t have lost it that way, no matter what the circumstances were. Her emotions had always been deep and intense where Harm was concerned, but she’d never let them get away from her quite that badly.

By the next morning, she was tired and grumpy, but the knowledge that it was all over and they would soon be going back to Washington helped boost her spirits. She grabbed a quick breakfast in the officers’ mess then went back to her quarters to finish up her notes on the case. She’d talked to the admiral last night, asking him to look into Carson’s background. He’d seemed as surprised as everyone else by the turn of events, but promised to have Carson’s file waiting for her when she got back.

A quick rap on the hatch came as a welcome respite from trying to sort things out well enough to put them down on paper. "Enter," she called.

The hatch swung open and Harm stepped in. He still looked tired, but otherwise, he was back to his usual self. "Morning. I just stopped by to tell you I heard from Admiral Chegwidden this morning. Lt. Carson will be tried in Washington. We’ll be taking him back with us."

"Then you’re going back when I do?" she asked, surprised. "Knowing you, I thought you’d want to stay and finish your quals."

He shrugged. "You need me for the trial. The skipper said he’d try to squeeze me in next month, but I’m not going to hold my breath."

Mac rose to her feet. "Oh, Harm, I’m sorry. I know how much it means to you to stay current."

He flashed her one of those signature grins of his. "I’ll manage. Besides, with the luck I’ve been having on my quals lately, it might not be a good idea to push it." His eyes took on an intense gleam. "Speaking of luck, I seem to recall a certain Marine dropping by my place to wish me luck in a very...unique...way."

She almost groaned. He would have to bring that up now. She smiled nervously. "Looks like it didn’t work. Your luck wasn’t very good, was it?"

He took a very deliberate step forward, catching her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. "Oh, I don’t know. I think I’m pretty lucky – lucky to have you in my corner, that is. I hear that when everyone thought I’d taken an unscheduled swim, you refused to give up on me."

Mac took a step backward, but didn’t let go of his hand. It was a calculated retreat, to see what he would do. "I couldn’t," she said softly. "I knew you weren’t dead."

He took another step, closing the gap she’d opened plus a bit more. He was close enough now to whisper softly, "Yeah? How?"

She took one more step back and bumped into the bulkhead beside the hatch. "I just did," she murmured.

His fingers still laced with hers, he lifted his hand, curling her arm and pinning it over her head. A half step, and there was no space between them at all. The heat from his big body spread through her with the speed of a prairie wildfire. His lips a hair’s breadth from hers, his warm breath played over her face as he whispered her name.

He was so warm, so close. She ached to move the last fraction of an inch, to feel his lips on hers again, but she didn’t dare. A carrier in the middle of the ocean wasn’t the place for what she wanted now. "We can’t," she breathed.

"I know," he said softly, his mouth still only millimeters from hers, "but I can dream, can’t I?"

Very slowly, he released her hand. His eyes still locked with hers, he reached over and opened the hatch. She took a breath, not even sure what she was going to say, but before she could say anything at all, he took a step to the side and disappeared through the hatch. It closed with a soft, metallic thud.

Harm got about three steps from Mac’s quarters before he stopped, stunned by what he’d done, and by what he wanted to do. Blood roared in his ears, coursing through his veins at close to the boiling point. In all his years in the navy, he’d never been more tempted to ignore the strict regulation against shipboard fraternization.

He was only intending to tease her a bit, to get her to finally admit the attraction between them, but the moment his hand locked with hers, he was nearly powerless against the electric charge that zinged through them both. He should have known better than to play with fire, but the sheer intensity of it caught him off guard. He’d never come so close to losing control, to losing himself in her.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the images and emotions the encounter had awakened. In the close confines of a ship, thoughts like that could get a man in a lot of trouble.

In her quarters, Mac slowly peeled herself from the bulkhead. Her heart was still pounding and her breathing wasn’t quite back to normal yet. She couldn’t believe what he’d done, what she’d done. The air in the room was still charged with electricity. She could still feel his presence, filling every space and blocking out everything else. The spicy scent of his cologne still clung to her skin, even though the only place he’d touched her was her hand.

With growing alarm, Mac realized she had started something with him, something she wasn’t sure she could finish.

The trip back to Washington was bathed in tension. Mac sat beside Harm, but it was all she could do to look at him, let alone talk to him, without being swamped by nervousness. Harm’s furtive glances and awkward conversation told her he was feeling the same way. Adding to the tension was the presence of Lt. Carson, sitting across from them. He wore a smug expression Mac was sorely tempted to wipe off his face the easy way.

He looked back and forth from Mac to Harm. "I thought you two were supposed to be friends, but the tension in here is so thick you could cut with a knife."

"Keep your mouth shut, Lieutenant," Mac growled.

"Gee, you’re testy today, Colonel."

"Take her advice," Harm warned him, "before I decide to shut it for you."
Carson’s gaze ping-ponged a couple more times. "Sorry, sir. Just making an observation." His tone didn’t sound like an apology.

"Well, don’t," Harm replied.

With the hypersensitive awareness crackling between her and Harm, Mac knew she’d go crazy if she didn’t do something to take her mind off it. She tried to sleep, but the interior of a helo wasn’t the best place to accomplish that. She dozed a while, but couldn’t get comfortable. Harm’s shoulder, only inches from her own, looked so inviting, but she didn’t dare. She wouldn’t under any circumstances, not with Carson sitting just across the small space.

When she finally decided to give up trying to give herself a permanent crook in her neck and straightened in her seat, she realized they were over land. It wouldn’t be long now till they were back in Washington.

She stole a quick glance at Harm, only to get tangled in the dark, smoldering intensity of his eyes. She wondered how long he’d been watching her, but her throat was much too dry to let her speak. He took a breath, as though he was about to say something, but stopped. Instead, he gave her a small smile before turning away.

Across from them, Carson appeared to be dozing as well. He shifted restlessly, scratching a spot on his leg just above his knee. It was an awkward maneuver with his wrists cuffed together. He shifted again, reaching lower on his leg.

Suddenly alert, Mac sat up straighter, but there wasn’t enough time to react when, in a blindly fast move, Carson yanked up his pant leg and drew a small pistol from an ankle holster. She and Harm both started to lunge, but aborted when Carson pointed the weapon at them.

"Uh-uh-uh," he teased menacingly. "You don’t want to risk a bullet bouncing around in here, do you? Especially if it goes through one of you first."

Mac and Harm traded a look, reluctantly easing back in their seats. Carson gestured to Harm with the barrel of the gun. "Get on the horn and tell the pilot to land at the first open area he can find."

"We’re over dense bush," Harm told him. "Even if he can find a place, what good will setting down do?"

"Just do it!" Carson shouted. "I’m calling the shots now!"

Scowling, Harm reached for the intercom. He explained the situation to the pilot and told him to find a place to set down.

"Give me the headset," Carson demanded. Harm turned it over to him. He struggled to get it on and still hold the gun, but finally managed to get it in place. He warned the pilot against radioing for assistance. "If I hear you say one word, someone back here won’t take another breath."

A moment later, Mac felt the helo begin to descend. Carson gestured to Harm. "Get these cuffs off me."

Mac saw Harm’s reluctance as he rose, taking out the key as he stepped across the small space in the back of the helo.

"Now open that door," Carson ordered.

Harm fired Mac a glance. The unspoken communication was clear. Once they were on the ground, all bets were off. If either of them could find an opening to jump Carson, they would take it. The glance lasted only a second, then he turned to open the door.

They were still twenty feet off the ground but descending quickly when he slid the door open. As Harm turned away from the yawning opening, Carson rose, gesturing to Mac. "Come on, Colonel. On your feet."

As Mac started to rise, she caught a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye. Carson saw it too. In one smooth motion, he spun and fired.

The left side of Harm’s forehead bloomed a bright crimson. Mind numbing terror ripped his name from her throat as the impact of the bullet drove him backwards through the open door.

Instinctively, Mac lunged for Harm, but Carson brandished the gun, forcing her back. At the same time, he screamed into the headset for the pilot to take the helo back up. A second later, Mac felt it start to lift.

Devastated, Mac stumbled back into her seat, her throat clogged with terror and grief. She’d seen it with her own eyes. Harm had been shot in the head, then fallen at least fifteen feet. A sickening certainty spread through her. This time, the odds were unbeatable. Harm was dead.

Admiral AJ Chegwidden added his signature to what was, thankfully, the last file in a large stack. He’d never considered writer’s cramp as a potential occupational hazard for a Navy SEAL. As he set the file aside, he was startled by an unexpected knock on the door. He didn’t even have time to call out before Tiner burst in. "Admiral, Col. MacKenzie is on a radio patch on line two. It’s an emergency, sir."

AJ grabbed the phone and punched the line. "Colonel, what’s wrong?"

"Admiral, Lt. Carson has commandeered the helo." Even over the scratchy connection, AJ could hear the tremor in her voice. She sounded like she was ready to fall apart, and that just wasn’t like her. There was something she hadn’t told him, and he had a horrible feeling he knew what it was.

"Is everyone on board all right?" he forced himself to ask.

"No sir," came the shaky reply. "He...Cmdr. Rabb was shot. He fell out of the helo when we were about fifteen feet off the ground. Carson then ordered the helo out of the area."

"Do you have any idea of the location where he fell?" he asked quickly. "It’s possible he survived."

There was a very long pause and when she finally replied, her voice was so soft he could barely hear her. "Admiral, it...it was a head shot."

"Oh, Christ," he whispered, his stomach turning over. He knew all too well what a bullet could do to the human head. His grief at the loss of Cmdr. Rabb was doubled by the thought of Mac witnessing such a brutal sight.

He was spared the impossible task of finding something to say to her. A male voice came on the line. "Listen up, Admiral. When this bird lands at Andrews, I want a small passenger jet fueled and waiting. When I’m safely on board, I’ll release the helo pilot."

"No, you listen to me," AJ ground out. "When that helo lands, you will turn yourself in. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll authorize a plane for you."

"You will if you want to see Col. MacKenzie again. I’ve already killed one officer, Admiral. I’ve got nothing left to lose."

"And I won’t be ordered around by a two-bit murdering thug," AJ growled.

"Fine," Carson replied calmly. "Here, Colonel. Say goodbye to the admiral."

Mac came back on the line. "Admiral, don’t give in to his demands. Shoot this damned helo down if you have to, but—"

Her words were cut off abruptly by a thud and a sharp grunt. AJ shot to his feet. "Colonel? Mac, are you there?"

"No, Admiral, she’s not," came the cold reply. "She’s laying at my feet, nursing a fat lip. If you want that cut of hers to keep on bleeding, you’ll have my plane ready. We’ll be arriving at Andrews in an hour. And Admiral, don’t get any bright ideas about intercepting us. If I see so much as a toy balloon in the air between here and Andrews, I’ll kill her on the spot. You got that...sir?" He spit the last word with venomous contempt.

"All right, all right. I’ll make the arrangements," he conceded.

"Good. One hour, Admiral." Carson broke the connection.

Mac tasted blood. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she slowly pushed to a sitting position on the floor of the helo. Carson stood over her, waving the gun. "Get back in your seat and strap yourself in."

She did as she was told, moving slowly. Carson had already closed the side door or Mac would have seriously considered diving through it. If she was no longer on board, there would be one less reason to let this monster live. All she could do was hope that the admiral had something in mind besides letting Carson get on that plane at Andrews.

She’d already decided that if he did get on board, it would never leave the ground. She didn’t care what she had to do to prevent it, but Carson was not leaving Andrews. If he did, if he got away with—unbidden, an image flashed through her mind: Harm’s bloodied face, his body snapping backwards through the door...

Mac closed her eyes, but that only made the image more vivid. She knew it was something that would be with her for as long as she lived. She didn’t care anymore how long that was, but vowed it would be at least two seconds longer than Carson.

"Tell me one thing," she growled at him. "What the hell is this all about? What did you have against Cmdr. Rabb?"

Carson actually laughed. "Not a damned thing, Colonel. That’s what’s so ironic. He just got in my way."

"He got in your way?" If Mac hadn’t been strapped to her seat, she’d have launched herself at Carson, gun or no gun.

"Yeah. See, I have a lucrative little sideline going delivering certain merchandise to some very rich, very generous clients."

"What kind of merchandise? Weapons? Navy secrets?"

Carson snorted. "I’m not a traitor, Colonel. No, this merchandise has nothing to do with the navy."

"Drugs," she spat.

He looked down at her smugly. "I can neither confirm, nor deny that."

"So how was Cmdr. Rabb in your way? He didn’t know anything about the drugs or he would have told me."

"No, he didn’t know about the drugs, but he would have. You see, my partner was scheduled to arrive while Cmdr. Rabb was still on board, to pick up the latest shipment. He was posing as a reporter. He had a rather unfortunate run in with Cmdr. Rabb a couple of years ago. Rabb would have recognized him instantly, so you see, I needed him out of the way. If you hadn’t shown up, running on a full head of steam, I’d have made sure Rabb got out of the void before there was any...permanent damage, but no, you had to go and find him. You ruined everything. It’s all your fault!"

A red haze closed over Mac’s vision. "Don’t you dare blame this on anyone but yourself, you bastard! You and your greed caused this!"

"Ah, you are so sanctimonious, Colonel. I’m just a guy trying to make a living. Now sit there and shut up."

Mac glared at him, but there was nothing left to say anyway. Harm was dead, and he’d never even known the reason for all of this.

It seemed like an eternity before the helo finally began its descent toward Andrews. Carson communicated over the headset, demanding the helo land as close as possible to the small passenger jet waiting on the tarmac. The pilot complied and Mac felt the helo’s skids finally touch the ground.

Every sense she owned was on high alert as Carson gestured for her to unbuckle her harness. Carson ordered the helo pilot to join them, then turned to Mac. "Open the door, Colonel, and no heroics."

She slowly slid the door open, quickly surveying the wide open area around the helo and jet. There wasn’t a lot of cover available. About a hundred yards away sat a Marine Corps hum-v, apparently deserted. She could only hope there was at least one Marine inside with a high powered rifle trained on the helo’s door.

Carson must have assumed the same thing. He grabbed the helo’s intercom mike and flipped a switch to engage the external speakers. "Get that vehicle out of here! Get it out now, or I’ll kill the pilot!"

A few seconds later, the hum-v’s engine roared to life, but before it began to move, a figure stepped out. Even at this distance, Admiral Chegwidden’s tall form was unmistakable. He slowly approached the helo, his hands held out in front of him.

"Stop!" Carson ordered. "Not one step closer!"

The admiral stopped. "Carson, I’m Admiral Chegwidden," he called out.

"I know who you are. Don’t come any closer, Admiral. The three of us are getting on that plane and there’s nothing you can do to stop it."

"I won’t stop you from getting on the plane," the admiral replied, "but let the hostages go. You must realize that if you take them with you, there’s no way I’ll let you go. I’ll chase you as long as it takes. But if you let them go, you can leave in peace. I promise you."

"Hah! I don’t believe you for a second, Admiral!" He grabbed the pilot’s arm and dragged him over to shield himself. He switched the gun to his other hand for a brief moment and dragged Mac over beside the pilot, completing the shield. "We’re going to get out now, and go to the jet. Don’t try anything stupid, Admiral. I’ve got a gun in Col. MacKenzie’s back."

Slowly, they disembarked, Carson keeping himself behind his two hostages. He started backing toward the jet, forcing Mac and the pilot to back away with him.

As they got closer and closer to the jet, Mac’s determination grew with every step. Her chance was coming. It had to be. Carson was not getting on that plane! Glancing over his shoulder to check their progress, Carson switched the gun to his other hand, shoving it into the pilot’s back.

With absolutely no warning, Mac exploded into action.

Simultaneously, she drove her elbow into Carson’s stomach, grabbed his gun hand, and shoved the pilot out of the way. She wasn’t quite fast enough and the gun discharged. The pilot let out a yell and dropped, blood gushing from his thigh.

Desperately, Mac struggled with Carson for the gun. The man wasn’t overly tall, but he was strong. He managed to land a glancing blow on the side of Mac’s head. Her grip on his wrist slipped and she felt herself going down. The instant she felt the concrete, she rolled, coming up on her feet in a blur of motion, but it was all the time Carson needed to draw a bead on her.

A gunshot split the air and Mac expected to feel it slam into her chest, but instead, Carson’s eyes went wide as he slowly crumpled to the ground, his shirtfront bathed in blood. Mac spun around to see the admiral slowly lowering his weapon.

Whirling, Mac grabbed the gun from Carson’s limp hand, but he was no longer a threat to anyone. The admiral’s shot had pierced his heart. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Admiral Chegwidden jogged up beside her, taking the gun from her suddenly limp fingers. "Are you all right?"

"I’m...fine, sir. We need a medic for the pilot, though."

"Inbound," he told her. She realized then that there were people descending on the scene from all over. She watched numbly as a medic knelt beside the pilot.

The admiral put a gentle hand on her back, leading her away from the scene. "As soon as they’re done, we’ll have the medics check you over too."

"Sir, I’m fine. Really." She stopped, straightening her spine as she turned to him. "Have you...are they looking for..."

He spared her the agony of saying Harm’s name aloud. "Yes, a search is already underway."

"When they find him...I need to be there, Admiral." He took a breath, but before he could speak, she went on quickly. "Please, sir. Don’t argue on this." Her control slipped suddenly and a sob wrenched from her very soul, but lodged in her throat. She looked up into the sorrow-filled gaze of her commanding officer, her friend, and swallowed down the tears. "I need to bring him home."

It was beginning to get dark by the time they returned to the JAG office. A somber group waited in the bullpen, gathered silently in the center of the room. Mac took one look at their grief-stricken faces and knew she’d never be able to get through their murmured condolences. She managed to give each of them a small, sad smile, then turned and fled into her office.

The admiral had promised he would alert her when Harm was found. She had to hang on until then. When he was home, she could give in to the torrent of grief inside her, but not until. He still needed her.

And oh, God, she needed him! The images from her nightmare rewound and played through her mind, becoming jumbled with memories of the last moments they spent alone together. The cold gray headstone, his smoldering gray eyes. The blistering heat of his big body pressed against hers, the icy chill of an Arlington funeral this time of year.

Regret washed through her like a cold rain. Why hadn’t she told him how she felt while there was still time? The dream had pushed her into going to his apartment that Saturday morning, but hadn’t she followed through. Why did she run away?

And why did she turn him away on the Seahawk? If she’d known it would be their last moment together, nothing would have kept her from closing that last fraction of an inch, from kissing him, from showing him in every way she could just how much she loved him.

But now, it was too late. That damned nightmare was coming true.

A sudden knock on the door made her jump violently. Her control hanging by a thread, she didn’t dare see anyone right now. Seeing her own grief reflected on their sad faces would be too much. "Not now!" she cried.

The door opened anyway. Admiral Chegwidden slipped in and closed the door.

"Admiral, I’m sorry, but I’d really like to be alone right now," she said quickly.

"Probably," he said softly, "but that’s not going to happen."

Before she could protest further, he grabbed a chair and dragged it around the desk, parking it close to hers before sitting down. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs. "Colonel, do you believe in God?"

The question caught her off guard. If this was some attempt to offer comfort... "Yesterday, I’d have said yes without hesitation, but to be honest, I’m really not sure anymore, sir, so if you’re trying to—"

"That’s unfortunate," he interrupted, "because I guess you’ll have to find someone else to thank."

She stared at him blankly. Thank? What was he talking about?

The admiral caught her hands in his. "They found him, Mac. He’s alive."

When she recovered from her shock, Mac’s first impulse was to go to Harm immediately, but he was already in the air, being flown to Bethesda. "Is he...all right?"

"He’s conscious and alert," the admiral told her, "but apparently he’s got one hell of a headache. They tell me he suffered a double concussion. The bullet creased his skull, and he hit his head again when he fell. He’s also got some bruised ribs, but he’ll be all right in a week or two."

Mac nodded, still numb.

"His ETA at Bethesda is a little over an hour. We should leave shortly if you want to be there when he arrives."

She nodded again, dragging herself out of the fog that was beginning to settle in her mind. "I’m going to freshen up a bit first, if that’s all right. I’ll be with you in a minute, sir."

"Take your time," he told her, rising and moving his chair to let her out.

Mac rose to her feet, but she only managed to take a couple of steps. Out of nowhere, she was swamped by a wave of emotion so strong it literally rocked her. She stumbled as a sob burst from her throat. Two strong hands caught her, guiding her against a solid wall of strength.

Helpless against the onslaught of so many different emotions she couldn’t name them all, Mac gave in, sobbing uncontrollably. The relief she felt was more profound than anything she’d ever experienced, but tangled within it were rage, fear, guilt and a desperate sense of loss. It was just too much to handle all at once.

Slowly, the emotion drained out of her and the sobs subsided. She drew away from the admiral, too embarrassed to look at him. "I’m...sorry, sir. I...don’t know where that came from."

"I do," he said gently, "and you have nothing to apologize for." He put a hand on her shoulder. "Go have a few minutes to yourself. I’ll meet you downstairs."

Mac and Admiral Chegwidden arrived at the medical center a few minutes after the helo carrying Harm touched down, but they were forced to wait over an hour while he was treated. Mac paced the waiting area, gripped by a restlessness that refused to ease. Her emotions had hit so many lows and highs today she wasn’t sure which way was up.

First, she’d believed he was alive when all the evidence said he wasn’t. Then, she’d thought he was dead and he turned up alive. The medics had said Harm would be all right, that he wasn’t badly hurt, but her earlier confidence in her own convictions had fled. She wouldn’t believe it till she saw it with her own eyes. Maybe not even then. She’d seen him get shot – in the head, for Christ sake – and live through it.

A nurse finally came to tell them they could visit him briefly, but only one at a time. The admiral nodded to her. "You go ahead."

She gave him a quick smile. "Thank you, sir."

The nurse escorted her to a small treatment room. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pushed the door open.

The instant she stepped into the room, Mac’s eyes were drawn to his tall lean figure, yet again stretched out on a hospital bed. On his forehead, a thick white bandage stood in stark contrast to his dark hair. A large bruise had begun to form, spreading beyond the bandage and creeping toward his eyebrow.

He smiled up at her. "Haven’t we done this once already?"

She tried to laugh but it came out a little thin. "More than once."

He frowned. "Hey, you okay?"

"That’s supposed to be my line," she said quickly, hoping to deflect him.

He wasn’t buying it, though. His frown deepened. "Maybe, but you look worse than I do." His expression softened. "Mac, I’m really sorry."

It was her turn to frown. "What for?"

He caught her hand in both of his. "When I got hit... That must have been hell for you."

She blinked back the sudden sting of tears, refusing to let on just what kind of hell it had been. "I’m just glad it turned out all right. You must have a whole pocketful of rabbits’ feet."

His palm glided up her arm. "See, I told you that good-luck kiss worked."

Her emotions were just too ragged and raw to handle the intimate gesture. "Please," she whispered. "Not right now."

He took his hand from her arm, but kept the other one securely wrapped around hers. "I’m sorry. You’re right, that wasn’t fair, but I would like to talk about what’s been going on with us."
"We will," she promised. "Just as soon as you get out of here."

"Deal."

Before she could say more, the door pushed open and the admiral came in. "The doctors have some tests they need to run, so they’ve asked us to leave for now."

Mac nodded. "I’ll give you a moment to say hello, Admiral." She turned back to Harm and got snagged in those haunting eyes of his, a clear blue-gray in the dim light. "See you soon," she whispered.

"Count on it," he replied softly, giving her hand a squeeze.

Reluctantly, Harm released Mac’s hand. As it slipped from his, something very close to loss settled inside him. He watched her go, giving the admiral a small smile as she passed him.

Admiral Chegwidden stepped closer to the bed. "How are you, Commander?"

"I still feel like the top of my head’s going to come off," he admitted.

"It damn near did – permanently." The admiral’s gruff tone had a slightly rougher note than usual.

Harm chuckled wryly. "I’m still not sure how I got out of this one, sir. By all rights, I should be dead."

"Obviously, it wasn’t your time, Commander."

"I guess not." He paused, his gaze involuntarily flicking to the door Mac had just stepped through. "How...how is she, sir? What she saw in the helo had to be pretty...gruesome."

"She thought you’d been killed. We all did, but she’s strong. She’ll get past it."

"I know," he said softly.

"We need to do a complete debriefing," the admiral told him, "but it can wait till you’re released."

Harm nodded. "I’m actually looking forward to it. I’m still confused as hell."

The admiral chuckled. "We’ll see what we can do about that. Get well, Commander."

Harm was released from the hospital two days later and spent one more day recuperating at home. His ribs were still a little sore and the stitches wouldn’t be removed for another few days, but considering what he’d been through, he was feeling pretty good.

Physically, at least. Emotionally, dealing with it all was giving him a little more trouble than he wanted to admit. What he’d told the admiral was true. He should be dead. How many people got shot in the head, fell out of a helicopter, and lived to tell about it? He felt like he’d been given a second chance – or was this the third, or the fourth? He’d pushed the envelope a lot more than most people ever got away with, and he was still here.

Maybe there was a reason for that – and maybe she was sitting in an apartment across town.

Mac groaned when she heard the knock on her door, expecting one of her coworkers. They’d been paying a lot of unexpected visits lately. She had a feeling the admiral was trying to make sure she didn’t spend too much time alone. The problem was, there was only one particular coworker she wanted to spend time with right now, and he was still at home healing.

She opened the door, ready to make some excuse, but froze. Harm stood smiling down at her. It took her a moment to find her voice. "What are you doing here?"

A wry grin slid onto his face. "Is that any way to greet a friend?"

Mac realized they were replaying the scene at his apartment, only in reverse roles. She very deliberately pushed the door open wide. "Point taken. Come on in."

He stepped inside and she closed the door behind him. A long awkward moment stretched out. He had that sheepish, almost little boy look on his face. He kept glancing down at the floor. "I wanted to apologize for what I did in your quarters on the Seahawk. I was way out of line."

"Maybe not as far as you might think," she said softly.

His head sprang up, his gaze locking with hers. His expression held so many things she didn’t have a hope of sorting them out.

She could not have looked away if her life depended on it, but she couldn’t shake the sudden insecurity that gripped her. "Unless I was out of line that day in your apartment."

He stepped close, skimming his hands up and down her arms. "You weren’t"

Mac couldn’t hide the shiver that went through her at the feel of his warm, slightly rough palms on her skin. His hands very slowly closed over her arms, drawing her to him. The charge of anticipation that arced between them expanded to fill the moment. He tilted his head, his eyes drifting shut an instant before his lips touched hers.

The kiss started out gentle, but as her hands went to his chest, Mac felt the now familiar tightening as his body responded to her. His passion flared, igniting her own. Of its own accord, her hand slid to the back of his neck, urging him closer as his tongue slipped past her parted lips.

The sweet ache inside her turned into a sharp need as his fingers trailed across her collarbone and down to gently cup her breast. The exquisite sensation ripped away what little reasoning power she had left. Nothing existed in the world except her and Harm and the burning need spreading through them both.

Barely conscious of what she was doing, she worked the buttons on his shirt with trembling fingers, pushing the material from his wide shoulders. He shrugged out of it quickly, reaching to draw her hard against him. She raked her nails gently across the skin of his back and thrilled at the uncontrollable shudder that went through him.

She felt the buttons of her blouse give way under his trembling hands, heard the whisper of the material as it slid from her shoulders. She leaned into the scorching heat of his hands, his body, molding herself to the hard planes of his tall frame.

He was fully aroused and on the edge of losing control. Mac could feel it in the urgency of his hands on her body and the unconscious, restless thrusting of his hips against hers. Her own control was perilously close to snapping. The knowledge that she could move him this way was the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.

It gave her a tremendous sense of power and at the same time humbled her deeply. He didn’t let go of his feelings easily. That he felt this free with her spoke loudly of the trust they shared.

He dragged his mouth from hers, drawing back just far enough to look at her. His eyes raged with the same fire that coursed through her veins. He ran a trembling hand over her hair. "Mac, honey, I need to know you’re sure about this. If you aren’t, we need to stop right now, because if we go much farther, I won’t be able to stop."

His words, the urgent, ragged huskiness of his voice, ignited a whole new set of fires inside her. It was all she could do to wet her lips enough to speak. "There’s a lot of things we need to talk about."

He nodded, but none of the urgency left his face.

"There’s no going back, you know."

He nodded again, still holding her against the raging heat of his body.

"But I suppose they could wait," she said breathlessly. "At least for a little while."

"For a long while," he breathed, capturing her mouth again.

They made their way into her bedroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind. By the time they made it to the bed, there was nothing left to take off. He stood before her in total nude splendor, but there was something even more captivating than his magnificent body, revealed to her for the first time.

As he took her down onto the soft covers of the bed, she couldn’t take her gaze off his face. The one thing Mac had wanted most in her life was written there, and it was so achingly familiar she almost cried. His love was there and – she realized now – it always had been. Shining in his eyes.

The End