White Lies by Linda Howard

willing participation, on his talents and skills. Now they
had to let him walk out on the streets as helpless as a baby because he
couldn't recognize the dangers, or take the risk of telling him things that
could set back his recovery. Major Lunning had been adamant that upsetting him
would be the worst thing they could do. He needed quiet and tranquillity, a
stable emotional base; his memory would return faster under those conditions.
No matter what decision the Man reached, Steve was at risk. And if Steve was at
risk, so was Jay.
                  It was hard for Jay to enter Steve's room
after the emotional battering she had taken. She needed time to get herself
under control, but she felt the pull between them again; it was growing so
strong she no longer had to be in the room with him, touching him. He needed
her right now, far more than she needed time. She opened the door and felt his
attention center on her, though not even his head moved. It was as if he were
holding his breath.
                  "I'm back," she said quietly,
walking to his bed and putting her hand on his arm. "It seems I can't stay
away."
                  His arm twitched urgently, several times, and
she got the message. "All right," she said, and began reciting the
alphabet.
                  Sorry.
                  What could she say? Deny that she'd been
upset? He would know better. He felt the pull just as she did, because he was
on the other end of that invisible rope. He turned his face slightly toward
her, his bruised lips parted as he waited for her answer.
                  "It's all right," she said. "I
didn't realize what a shock I had just given you." Yes.
                  It was odd how much expression he could put in
a single motion, but she felt his wryness and sensed that he was still shocked.
Shocked, but in control. His control was astounding.
                  She began spelling again.
                  Afraid.
                  The admission hit her hard; it was something
the old Steve never would have admitted, but the man he had become was so much
stronger that he could admit it and lose nothing of his strength. "I know,
but I'll stay with you as long as you want me," she promised.
                  What
happened?   He made it a question by a
slight upward movement of his arm.
                  Keeping her voice calm, Jay told him about the
explosion but didn't give him any of the details. Let him think that he'd
simply been in an accident. Eyes?
                  So he hadn't understood everything she'd told
him before and needed reassuring. "You'll have more surgery on your eyes,
but the prognosis is good. You'll see again, I promise."
                  Paralyzed?
                  "No! You've broken both legs and they're
in casts. That's why you can't move them."
                  Toes.
                  "Your toes?" she asked in
bewilderment. "They're still there." His lips moved in a very slight,
painful smile. Touch them.
                  She bit her lip. "Okay." He wanted
her to touch his toes so he'd know he still had feeling in them, as a
reassurance that he wasn't paralyzed. She walked to the foot of the bed and
firmly folded her hands over his bare toes, letting his cool flesh absorb the
heat from her palms. Then she returned to his side and touched his arm.
"Did you feel that?"
                  Yes.   Again he gave that painful fraction of a
smile.
                  "Anything else?"
                  Hands .
                  "They're burned, and in bandages, but
they're not third-degree burns. Your hands will be fine."
                  Chest.
Hurts.
                  "You have a collapsed lung, and a tube in
your chest. Don't do any tossing around."