Fic Post: Mutually Assured Destruction
Title: Mutually Assured Destruction
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Murphy Brown
Pairing: Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt
Rating: For mature grownups only
Timeframe: The Thrill of the Hunt (season 6)
A/N: Much of the dialog comes directly from the episode. I did not write all of it and I don’t claim to.
Disclaimer: The rules as ever apply: I don’t make a dime from this. I do however make friends while gushing about Candice and Diane and all of the concepts this show created. I will remind the powers that be that Scott Bakula would love to return to the show. So. Um. Just saying.
Summary: The part of her that needed to protect herself, needed to keep her heart at bay because her life was her kid and work was reminding her she didn’t need a man because she had professional recognition and work to do. She didn’t need a man, but she wanted one. She wanted this one.
All Murphy needed to do was get through this interview and then her world could return to normal. Peter would be on his way, her life would settle down. She’d stop thinking about whether or not he’d be at her desk when she came through the door, or if the toys she was missing were with him. She just needed to keep her breathing even and stop her mind from racing. For four months, she’d been able to bury her attraction under jealousy, so much so that even she’d believed her need to push Corky away from Peter, and to push him and be near him was all because he was in her space and she’d never been good at sharing. But, then he’d left. Blissfully. After an all day taunting session in her office, he’d left. Bound for Bosnia or Serbia or Somalia or wherever the network wanted him and she could breathe just a bit better. Frank took Peter’s international slots, unless there was a story that didn’t involve gunfire, and the show returned to normal. Her heart stopped racing when he stepped off the elevator. She stopped feeling like the awkward friend at the party. After all, it was clear that Peter only had eyes for Corky - not that it mattered anyway. She wasn’t attracted to him. Of course she wasn’t.
But there he’d been, sitting at her desk, and the flush that overtook her body had felt so familiar. She’d felt it for men like Jerry, men like Jake. Hell, even a bit for Mitchell although that had faded quickly. She wanted Peter out of her chair but not out of her office and when Miles had dragged him out to see people, pretending she wasn’t disappointed had been far too difficult.
But now, he would answer her questions, talk about the bullet wound to make the suits happy, explain Bosnia, then he’d be gone and she could get back to her life. She could return to pretending that she hadn’t been excited to see him, and that she’d hoped he’d come back, at least in part, for her. As if that wasn’t the single most self-centered thing she could think about.
“So why did you come back?” She asked, pushing. She couldn't help it. Maybe if he’d admit it was about Corky, or about the attention, she could shove the annoying girl out of her head. She taunted him, pushed him, and then got the answer she wasn’t at all expecting. The answer that made the annoying girl in her head cheer and dance and somewhere in that brain of hers, put on glass slippers and sing Rodgers and Hammerstein songs. God this interview needed be over and done with.
“God, you are irritating, you know that?” He grumbled at her. She smirked. Good. He’d be good and gone in no time. “You want to know why I came back?” He pushed himself out of the chair.
Yes, yes she did want to know. Maybe. Nope. Maybe not. What if it wasn’t for Corky or attention? What was she doing?
“I was …” he paced a bit. “Unloading my jeep when the sniper fire started. I was just about to take off and this face flashes in front of my eyes.” He took a breath and leaned in and suddenly, Murphy was scared. Everything was about to change. She could feel it.
“Was it my mother’s face? Or my first grade girlfriend’s face?”
Why had he gone with that one?
“Or Cindy Crawford’s face?”
Okay, that one made sense.
“No.”
He leaned in closer, so close she could feel his body heat, and yes. Her instincts were right. Everything changed.
“No! It had to be your face!”
Her stomach lurched. Her face. He’d seen her face. He’d seen her face and frozen and he’d come back to see her because he wanted to know if she felt the same way and terror gripped her harder than it had the last time Jake had proposed. Because Peter had done something Jake never did. He’d come back to see her, but there weren’t any expectations. He was just here. He wanted to figure this out. It was terrifying.
So, she did the only thing she could do in this moment. She made light of it. She laughed. She had to. Because if she didn’t she was going to grab him and let him do whatever he wanted to do to her right here on her desk and she didn’t care that it was an hour to showtime.
“What was I wearing?” She teased him, trying to move past the idea that he’d been under fire and all he could think about was her face and because he’d frozen, he’d been shot. He had feelings for her too and this wasn’t good because she’d shut that part of her life down. Kid and work. That was her focus. She didn’t get to have it all and she was okay with that because she got to watch her son grow up and she got to do it while still reporting on important events of the day and so what if there were nights when she slipped a hand between her legs and fantasized about how Peter had looked that first day in the Middle East when they’d gone over together. The jeans and t-shirt that hugged his body, the sweat in his hair, the look in his eye when he came over to join her for dinner. She knew that look, and she’d pushed it away and found someplace else to be, but she’d seen him watching her.
This wasn’t good. And now, he was challenging her.
“Don’t think you don’t have a few things to explain here, too.”
“Like what?” Good, Murphy. Hide behind righteous indignation.
“Like why you’re the only one who didn’t think of an excuse to skip lunch with me last week. Why you didn’t back out of an interview you know is a puff piece. And why you care so much about why I’m back!” He leaned in again. “I’m thinking it’s because I’ve been on your mind too.”
He had her pinned now. She’d made a fatal error, sitting in her chair. He was perched against her desk and leaning over and god he smelled good and she couldn’t … no, she couldn’t do this.
“You didn’t answer me. Because you’re afraid to. Because you know something is going on here and you hate it as much as I do.”
Oh, the bastard said she was afraid.
“I really don’t need this,” she tried to fight back, but her defenses were waning. Because she was afraid. “I have a full and complete --”
And he did it. He leaned in over, trapping her completely in her chair, interrupting the tirade she was preparing. The part of her that needed to protect herself, needed to keep her heart at bay because her life was her kid and work was reminding her she didn’t need a man because she had professional recognition and work to do. She didn’t need a man, but she wanted one. She wanted this one. Right now. He kept kissing her. His mouth was on her neck and God he smelled so good and finally he reached in, slowly unknotting the scarf around her neck, and she gave up completely. Because this was better than every fantasy her brain had thrown at her lately.
“You gotta trust me when I tell you, I’m much better with two arms,” he taunted her before their lips met again.
“There’s something you should know,” Murphy said, breaking the kiss again. The look in his eyes told her he expected some other lover, yet another reason for stopping this train. But her lips quirked at him. “The lock on my door is broken … slide the file cabinet over.”
She watched his shoulders sag with relief as he turned back to her for another kiss. His good arm went around her and she lost herself in the smell of his aftershave and natural musk. How much time did they have? A noise outside the office pulled them apart and Peter went over and kicked the cabinet over just enough to block anyone’s entrance. She stood up and walked around, sliding her hands up his back, pressing against him from behind.
“I’ve wanted to do this since …”
“Since you first walked in here and saw me on your phone?”
She laughed as he turned in her arms. His good arm was around her, pressing her close. “Probably.”
“Me too,” he murmured, before lowering his lips to hers again. She wrapped her arms around him, molding their bodies together, and in this moment, she never wanted to let go.
***
He didn’t think. He was tired of thinking. Tired of analyzing why her face had been the one to flash in front of his eyes, why she’d been the one who made him want to return. All Peter wanted was her lips on his again and his hands on her body and god, he hated that the sling kept coming between them. If he could just lift her up and get her legs around his waist, this would be so much better.
She smelled so good. He didn’t know perfume scents from Adam, but he’d find out this one and buy it for her so she’d smell like this forever. He wanted to pack it in his bag with him, bring it back to Bosnia, wrap himself in this every night because somehow it would keep the all too real demons at bay. God where had that come from?
She had him pinned against her - one leg wrapped around his and he pushed her down on the desk - realizing quickly how stupid an idea that was because he couldn’t keep his balance with just the one arm. She sat back up and reached for him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and running her hand down his chest. He groaned as all the blood rushed right to his cock.
“Murphy …” he murmured, his lips going to her neck, his good hand unbuttoning her suit coat and sliding up inside the lace camisole underneath. No blouse to muss. This was all scarf and satin and her skin was cool and smooth and he wanted to stay here forever.
“We should stop …” she moaned as his thumb brushed the underside of a padded bra. “We have to be in the studio in an hour …
“I can do an hour …” his hand cupped the bra, tugging at the cup, her nipple coming to life between his fingers.
“Just kiss me,” she moaned as his lips found hers again. He wanted more. Needed more. And she felt the same way and it was a heady rush he couldn’t understand and didn’t want in his life but he couldn’t stop it.
The hand that wasn’t keeping him against her moved down, brushing against the erection that was pushing against the seam of his pants. Peter pulled back and looked at her and in that moment, she shook her head. “No … not right before a show … I …” But her eyes were locked with his, her hand still on his crotch and he didn’t care that they had the same dedication to professionalism, he also wanted to push that skirt the rest of the way up her hips, push her underwear to the side, and sink into her. She wanted it too.
Instead, he groaned. “I get it.” So he just kissed her again, praying for something more as soon as the camera stopped rolling. He wanted to feel her around him. It was going to take every ounce of self control to not just go for it.
Four months. Four months of taunting and teasing and she’d smiled the first time she saw him, while she was taking the toy rat out of his hands. She’d smiled and he’d felt a stirring he’d done everything he could to ignore because damn if he didn’t have the habit of leaving the right women and if he’d just dealt with it sooner, he wouldn’t be trying to make love to her half an hour before showtime.
He pulled back again, giving in to the need for access and pushed her jacket off her shoulders, taking in the disheveled camisole and bra underneath. Dear god she was beautiful. How was it that she’d turned off this part of her life? How was it that she’d given it up? Didn’t she realize she could have any man she wanted? And for some dumb reason, she seemed to want him?
His lips found hers again and she was still cupping his erection through his jeans and if she didn’t stop, he’d need to change. So he made the most logical decision he could in this moment - he pushed her back on the desk while her legs wrapped around him and he took her as much as he could, pushing against her like he was back in high school. Oh he should have waited to kiss her until he could get her completely naked. Until he could wrap those legs completely around his ears and bury his mouth between her legs. Until he could press inside her and feel her body around him. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
She pushed him back into her chair and hiked her skirt up as she straddled him and his hand went right up between her thighs, stroking lightly. Yep, she was wet and wanting and he couldn’t help himself and she gasped in a way that ruined him, completely.
“Murphy …”
The intercom buzzed, stopping his fingers from sliding inside her panties. But he pressed this thumb against her core and fluttered his fingers slightly and she gasped and met his eyes.
The fucking intercom. And again. She almost reached for it but he nudged her back onto the desk and she landed right on the phone and he kept kissing her. Let the show be damned for a few minutes. He was on a plane in a few hours and if this was all he got, he was taking advantage of it. He had a condom in his wallet. Professionalism be damned. His fingers were pushing at her core and he couldn’t stop kissing her.
This was heady.
And the intercom wouldn’t stop buzzing.
“We have to go.” She groaned, pushing him off of her. “Peter …” They both gasped and the moment was broken. They had to get to the set.
It took a couple of minutes to get situated. For his raging hard on to settle so he could go on air. For her to smooth down her hair and button her jacket and arrange the scarf to cover the emerging hickey on her neck. The office smelled of them.
“Murphy …”
“Later, okay?”
Suddenly, it was awkward. They stared at each other and he could see something in her eyes that was just as quickly hidden behind the same walls he used to keep people at arm’s length. She was tired of being hurt. He was on a plane in a few hours. She was already chalking this up to a moment of weakness. If he were smart, he’d do the same thing.
But in the elevator he kissed her again and she didn’t push him away and as they stepped off, he met her eyes and please oh please, let her not regret this because he really didn’t feel like leaving the right woman again.
If this was even an inkling of what it meant to fall in love, he was doomed.
***
After the show, everyone was chatting about Phil’s. About giving Peter the send off he deserved. Murphy just shook her head and begged off, Eldin needed to leave, she said. The baby was always a great excuse.
Her office was a disaster and still smelled faintly of the two of them. His aftershave, her perfume, the smell of their bodies wanting to come together. A secret of hers was that she loved the gentle smell of sex. And she’d had plenty of it in this office.
God, she was an idiot.
Taking a minute, she sank back into her chair, trying to at least put some of the notes in order. But the solace didn’t last long. He’d come looking for her and she had to get home and safe before her walls were completely broken down. He was heading back into a war zone and she was still reeling from the way she’d felt completely safe in his arms. Well, arm.
Not even Jerry had made her feel this way.
What way, exactly? Young and beautiful and wanting to have sex on her desk again? Jeeze. She was a middle aged woman with an almost two-year-old. She didn’t need this kind of mistake in her life. She didn’t need to be holding her breath every time there was a rumor of another kidnapped journalist or him being in the middle of the gunfire. She didn’t need to wait by the phone for a call that might not come. Or worse, for a call that could.
Before he could find her, she wrapped herself in her coat, slung her bag over her shoulder, and made a beeline for the parking garage. The drive home was done in silence, and she didn’t even fight for her usual space on the roads. She just wanted to get home, get out of this suit that smelled like Peter, and focus on the story she’d pushed to next week because of this interview. She wanted to go home and shower off the feel of his fingers brushing across her nipples and the way he’d felt between her legs as she straddled him in her chair. One finger had teased her, stroking her, and she’d almost shattered apart right there. Some kind of self control she had. She wanted to put on her most comfortable pjs and settle in the library and work until sleep claimed her or Avery needed something. Work and kid. That was supposed to be her focus.
But it hurt. Peter was leaving and she’d allowed just enough of the wall around her heart to come down to see that he was serious about his feelings for her and now he was leaving and she knew how it would work. He’d get back over there and some beautiful local would catch his eye and she’d be forgotten. She’d done her own share of that when she was in the field. She pushed aside the fact that he’d come back to her office to see her. She pushed aside the look in his eyes while he was stroking her. She hadn’t felt that powerful in years.
And now he was leaving and she needed the wall back up, fast. Because unless he got shot again, he’d have no reason to come back.
Inside, she tried to pull it together. Eldin, as usual, saw right through her, but he was also on his way out the door, which she appreciated. Oh, the paint in the library was wet. Okay. Well. She’d work in the living room. Work and kid. Work and kid. Work and …
The doorbell rang and there he was, trying to put on as brave a face as she was. God, why was he here? Why was he doing this to them? Why wouldn’t Eldin leave?
She heard the words coming out of her mouth even as her heart screamed at her to stop. “Look, let me just save us some time and say what people are supposed to say in situations like this.” She took a breath. “We’re both adults. Obviously there was an attraction building. But let’s not pretend it was more than it was. You still respect me, I respect you, we can still be friends, but you’re a rambling kind of guy and you’ve got to move on. Have I left anything out?”
Please, just go, her brain screamed. Her heart couldn’t keep still.
“How about, where do we go from here?”
Oh god. He’d come back to talk about them, he wanted something real, he was willing to put up with someone he cared about being nine time zones away so why couldn’t she get herself together? Why couldn’t she let him in? Why couldn’t she be as vulnerable right now as he was being? Why couldn’t she be as honest as he was being right now?
Stop being an idiot, her heart screamed.
Because, her brain retorted, the last time someone promised they’d be there if she needed anything, he’d vanished when it got too hard to juggle his caring about her and her caring about the baby. The last time someone had said they would care about her across time zones, he got on a plane to Brazil and now only communicated through postcards to his son. She couldn’t do this. Not again. She needed Peter gone because he was everything she loved in both Jerry and Jake. He was pushy and challenged her and he was also so dedicated to his job he was willing to risk his life. She needed him gone so she could shower away the memory of the office and force herself to focus on work. Her brain needed to win this round.
“You know,” she taunted him, “you’re always threatening to go away, but you never quite do.”
And it worked. She saw the gut punch, the change in his eyes. He left. And she sat there on the edge of the couch, hating herself. Hating her weakness for wanting someone. Hating that her heart was chasing him to the door, begging him to stay, and her brain was keeping her in check. Hating that as she sorted the mail, she didn’t trust he was gone. Hating that she went to the door, opened it, and when he wasn’t there, her heart shattered into shards so thin that it felt like every inch of her body was being sliced open from the inside.
Well. She’d done it now.
***
Peter almost left. Almost. He walked to his rental car and stared at his keys before turning and going back. He couldn’t walk away. Not again. He’d walked away once. After that night in her office, the day he quit FYI, the day he went round and round and round with her, saying he wouldn’t walk away. He could have kissed her then, could have got it out of his system then. Instead, he’d had to get shot and come back here because fate was a bitchy mistress.
He’d wait five minutes, he decided. Then, he’d go. If it really was just getting off in her office, she wouldn’t go to the door. But he knew it wasn’t. He’d seen how she looked at him, felt how she responded to him. He’d seen the look of terror in her eyes when he said he was getting on a plane tonight. She wanted this too, and somehow, he’d found the only woman in the world more terrified of relationships than he was.
He stood there in the shadows, waiting for her neighbors to call the cops, when the door opened. All he could see was her shadow, backlit by that stunning foyer, and he knew staying was worth it.
“Aren’t you at least going to look around?” He called as the door started to close.
She opened it again, and this time, there wasn’t any distance between them. She was there and he almost forgot his name but it was okay because she was there, in his personal space, and he was touching her. She was present, completely, with him.
“Okay,” she asked, “so where do we go from here?”
“You tell me,” he said, unable to stop the stupid grin that crossed his face. “You used most of my best material when I walked in here the first time.”
“I left out something crucial,” she said, “I have an unbroken track record of picking the wrong men.”
He chuckled, running his hand up her arm. “That’s where our material differs. I usually say I have an unbroken track record of leaving the right women.” As soon as it left his mouth, he knew she was in fact, the right woman. Now to convince her of that. But before his lips could find hers again, she pulled away.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “I’m forty-five years old. There has to be some advantage to age and experience so that at a certain point relationships aren’t so damn complicated.”
He followed her back into the living room, sidestepping the heels she’d kicked off, and went along with her need to be logical. Because really, falling for someone who he never knew when he’d see again was really dumb.
“We’ve got attraction with a mutually recognized lack of compatibility. That’s just great.” Her head picked up. “Although, you can’t say there wouldn’t be some comfort in starting a relationship that’s predestined to fail. It kind of takes the pressure off.”
There was a flash of disappointment, but she had a point. They were both so terrible at relationships that this would naturally crash and burn. So to jump in, fully aware of that, it did take the pressure off. He let out a breath, knowing that if he had to live into something his job couldn’t allow, they’d only end up destroying each other. This way, they could play, they could have fun, and possibly even place bets on how it would end. Anyway, she wasn’t pulling away. She wanted this too. And if this was what would work for both of them, he’d take it. Especially because she kept using the word relationship. It was a terrifying word, but it meant she wanted more than the moment in her office. It meant they could give this a serious try. The release of tension let him tease her about being worth the wait and then join her on the couch and wrap her in his good arm. She snuggled in like she’d been born to do so and he nuzzled her forehead and sniffed her hair. When she kissed him, he almost forgot about his flight.
Instead, they did the responsible thing. He gave her the lock for her office door so when he came back, they wouldn’t have to move the file cabinet, and he didn’t promise to call. After all, he didn’t know when he’d be near a phone.
She teased him as he walked out the door.
“Hey, Petey? If you ever get shot at again and you happen to see my face …”
He smirked at her. “Yeah?”
“Picture it saying stay down, stupid.”
He laughed, but his eyes met hers and leaving was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But he had a plane to catch. So he did what he was supposed to do and drove away from her, away from them. Really, if he were smart, he’d reschedule the flight. Instead, he opted to be responsible.
The airport was routine. Return the rental car, load up his luggage which was his bag and his camera. Get to the gate and wait. And wait.
He pulled out his Nokia and dialed a number he’d had memorized since his first week at FYI, and waited. Five rings in, he got ready to leave a message, but she answered, slightly breathless.
“Sorry,” she said with a chuckle. “I was in the shower.”
Great. Now he’d couldn’t get the image of water running of her naked body out of his mind. Then he realized she probably couldn’t hear the phone in the shower and his mind granted him a whole new picture. “No, you weren’t …” he challenged.
“I wasn’t going to answer,” she chuckled, in that low voice she’d used in his office, “But I figured it might be you.”
“You’re evil,” he groaned. “Look, I’ll call when I can and--”
“Petey,” she interrupted him. “Do me a favor and don’t make the promise. The last guy who said that …” she took a breath. “He didn’t even call when Avery was born.”
The shock hit him, hard. He hadn’t processed just how alone Murphy was with this kid. He knew she was doing it by herself, but he’d always kind of figured the dad was somewhere in the picture. He also had a feeling no one else knew that Avery’s father hadn’t even called when he was born. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. So what, you called to say you’d call?”
He laughed a bit. “Yeah. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Okay.” Her voice was soft and vulnerable. “Be safe, okay? You made me a promise.”
“Oh, what was that?”
“That you’re better with two arms. I mean, it was pretty damn good with one, but …”
“I’ll be back soon,” was all he could choke out. She laughed.
“Soon, Petey.”
He sighed and hung up, trying to push the images of what she’d been doing when he called out of his mind. Soon wasn’t soon enough and it killed him, because he had gone crazy sitting behind an anchor desk. He needed to be out with the stories. But she and Avery were here. And splitting the time was going to be on him, on his stories. Soon wasn’t soon enough. And for the first time, he understood why she’d made the decision to cut back. But his flight was boarding and there was a war to cover and he at least had the handkerchief she’d tucked in her suit jacket. It smelled of her perfume. Hopefully it would last until he made it back to her again.
Author: vegawriters
Fandom: Murphy Brown
Pairing: Murphy Brown/Peter Hunt
Rating: For mature grownups only
Timeframe: The Thrill of the Hunt (season 6)
A/N: Much of the dialog comes directly from the episode. I did not write all of it and I don’t claim to.
Disclaimer: The rules as ever apply: I don’t make a dime from this. I do however make friends while gushing about Candice and Diane and all of the concepts this show created. I will remind the powers that be that Scott Bakula would love to return to the show. So. Um. Just saying.
Summary: The part of her that needed to protect herself, needed to keep her heart at bay because her life was her kid and work was reminding her she didn’t need a man because she had professional recognition and work to do. She didn’t need a man, but she wanted one. She wanted this one.
All Murphy needed to do was get through this interview and then her world could return to normal. Peter would be on his way, her life would settle down. She’d stop thinking about whether or not he’d be at her desk when she came through the door, or if the toys she was missing were with him. She just needed to keep her breathing even and stop her mind from racing. For four months, she’d been able to bury her attraction under jealousy, so much so that even she’d believed her need to push Corky away from Peter, and to push him and be near him was all because he was in her space and she’d never been good at sharing. But, then he’d left. Blissfully. After an all day taunting session in her office, he’d left. Bound for Bosnia or Serbia or Somalia or wherever the network wanted him and she could breathe just a bit better. Frank took Peter’s international slots, unless there was a story that didn’t involve gunfire, and the show returned to normal. Her heart stopped racing when he stepped off the elevator. She stopped feeling like the awkward friend at the party. After all, it was clear that Peter only had eyes for Corky - not that it mattered anyway. She wasn’t attracted to him. Of course she wasn’t.
But there he’d been, sitting at her desk, and the flush that overtook her body had felt so familiar. She’d felt it for men like Jerry, men like Jake. Hell, even a bit for Mitchell although that had faded quickly. She wanted Peter out of her chair but not out of her office and when Miles had dragged him out to see people, pretending she wasn’t disappointed had been far too difficult.
But now, he would answer her questions, talk about the bullet wound to make the suits happy, explain Bosnia, then he’d be gone and she could get back to her life. She could return to pretending that she hadn’t been excited to see him, and that she’d hoped he’d come back, at least in part, for her. As if that wasn’t the single most self-centered thing she could think about.
“So why did you come back?” She asked, pushing. She couldn't help it. Maybe if he’d admit it was about Corky, or about the attention, she could shove the annoying girl out of her head. She taunted him, pushed him, and then got the answer she wasn’t at all expecting. The answer that made the annoying girl in her head cheer and dance and somewhere in that brain of hers, put on glass slippers and sing Rodgers and Hammerstein songs. God this interview needed be over and done with.
“God, you are irritating, you know that?” He grumbled at her. She smirked. Good. He’d be good and gone in no time. “You want to know why I came back?” He pushed himself out of the chair.
Yes, yes she did want to know. Maybe. Nope. Maybe not. What if it wasn’t for Corky or attention? What was she doing?
“I was …” he paced a bit. “Unloading my jeep when the sniper fire started. I was just about to take off and this face flashes in front of my eyes.” He took a breath and leaned in and suddenly, Murphy was scared. Everything was about to change. She could feel it.
“Was it my mother’s face? Or my first grade girlfriend’s face?”
Why had he gone with that one?
“Or Cindy Crawford’s face?”
Okay, that one made sense.
“No.”
He leaned in closer, so close she could feel his body heat, and yes. Her instincts were right. Everything changed.
“No! It had to be your face!”
Her stomach lurched. Her face. He’d seen her face. He’d seen her face and frozen and he’d come back to see her because he wanted to know if she felt the same way and terror gripped her harder than it had the last time Jake had proposed. Because Peter had done something Jake never did. He’d come back to see her, but there weren’t any expectations. He was just here. He wanted to figure this out. It was terrifying.
So, she did the only thing she could do in this moment. She made light of it. She laughed. She had to. Because if she didn’t she was going to grab him and let him do whatever he wanted to do to her right here on her desk and she didn’t care that it was an hour to showtime.
“What was I wearing?” She teased him, trying to move past the idea that he’d been under fire and all he could think about was her face and because he’d frozen, he’d been shot. He had feelings for her too and this wasn’t good because she’d shut that part of her life down. Kid and work. That was her focus. She didn’t get to have it all and she was okay with that because she got to watch her son grow up and she got to do it while still reporting on important events of the day and so what if there were nights when she slipped a hand between her legs and fantasized about how Peter had looked that first day in the Middle East when they’d gone over together. The jeans and t-shirt that hugged his body, the sweat in his hair, the look in his eye when he came over to join her for dinner. She knew that look, and she’d pushed it away and found someplace else to be, but she’d seen him watching her.
This wasn’t good. And now, he was challenging her.
“Don’t think you don’t have a few things to explain here, too.”
“Like what?” Good, Murphy. Hide behind righteous indignation.
“Like why you’re the only one who didn’t think of an excuse to skip lunch with me last week. Why you didn’t back out of an interview you know is a puff piece. And why you care so much about why I’m back!” He leaned in again. “I’m thinking it’s because I’ve been on your mind too.”
He had her pinned now. She’d made a fatal error, sitting in her chair. He was perched against her desk and leaning over and god he smelled good and she couldn’t … no, she couldn’t do this.
“You didn’t answer me. Because you’re afraid to. Because you know something is going on here and you hate it as much as I do.”
Oh, the bastard said she was afraid.
“I really don’t need this,” she tried to fight back, but her defenses were waning. Because she was afraid. “I have a full and complete --”
And he did it. He leaned in over, trapping her completely in her chair, interrupting the tirade she was preparing. The part of her that needed to protect herself, needed to keep her heart at bay because her life was her kid and work was reminding her she didn’t need a man because she had professional recognition and work to do. She didn’t need a man, but she wanted one. She wanted this one. Right now. He kept kissing her. His mouth was on her neck and God he smelled so good and finally he reached in, slowly unknotting the scarf around her neck, and she gave up completely. Because this was better than every fantasy her brain had thrown at her lately.
“You gotta trust me when I tell you, I’m much better with two arms,” he taunted her before their lips met again.
“There’s something you should know,” Murphy said, breaking the kiss again. The look in his eyes told her he expected some other lover, yet another reason for stopping this train. But her lips quirked at him. “The lock on my door is broken … slide the file cabinet over.”
She watched his shoulders sag with relief as he turned back to her for another kiss. His good arm went around her and she lost herself in the smell of his aftershave and natural musk. How much time did they have? A noise outside the office pulled them apart and Peter went over and kicked the cabinet over just enough to block anyone’s entrance. She stood up and walked around, sliding her hands up his back, pressing against him from behind.
“I’ve wanted to do this since …”
“Since you first walked in here and saw me on your phone?”
She laughed as he turned in her arms. His good arm was around her, pressing her close. “Probably.”
“Me too,” he murmured, before lowering his lips to hers again. She wrapped her arms around him, molding their bodies together, and in this moment, she never wanted to let go.
***
He didn’t think. He was tired of thinking. Tired of analyzing why her face had been the one to flash in front of his eyes, why she’d been the one who made him want to return. All Peter wanted was her lips on his again and his hands on her body and god, he hated that the sling kept coming between them. If he could just lift her up and get her legs around his waist, this would be so much better.
She smelled so good. He didn’t know perfume scents from Adam, but he’d find out this one and buy it for her so she’d smell like this forever. He wanted to pack it in his bag with him, bring it back to Bosnia, wrap himself in this every night because somehow it would keep the all too real demons at bay. God where had that come from?
She had him pinned against her - one leg wrapped around his and he pushed her down on the desk - realizing quickly how stupid an idea that was because he couldn’t keep his balance with just the one arm. She sat back up and reached for him, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and running her hand down his chest. He groaned as all the blood rushed right to his cock.
“Murphy …” he murmured, his lips going to her neck, his good hand unbuttoning her suit coat and sliding up inside the lace camisole underneath. No blouse to muss. This was all scarf and satin and her skin was cool and smooth and he wanted to stay here forever.
“We should stop …” she moaned as his thumb brushed the underside of a padded bra. “We have to be in the studio in an hour …
“I can do an hour …” his hand cupped the bra, tugging at the cup, her nipple coming to life between his fingers.
“Just kiss me,” she moaned as his lips found hers again. He wanted more. Needed more. And she felt the same way and it was a heady rush he couldn’t understand and didn’t want in his life but he couldn’t stop it.
The hand that wasn’t keeping him against her moved down, brushing against the erection that was pushing against the seam of his pants. Peter pulled back and looked at her and in that moment, she shook her head. “No … not right before a show … I …” But her eyes were locked with his, her hand still on his crotch and he didn’t care that they had the same dedication to professionalism, he also wanted to push that skirt the rest of the way up her hips, push her underwear to the side, and sink into her. She wanted it too.
Instead, he groaned. “I get it.” So he just kissed her again, praying for something more as soon as the camera stopped rolling. He wanted to feel her around him. It was going to take every ounce of self control to not just go for it.
Four months. Four months of taunting and teasing and she’d smiled the first time she saw him, while she was taking the toy rat out of his hands. She’d smiled and he’d felt a stirring he’d done everything he could to ignore because damn if he didn’t have the habit of leaving the right women and if he’d just dealt with it sooner, he wouldn’t be trying to make love to her half an hour before showtime.
He pulled back again, giving in to the need for access and pushed her jacket off her shoulders, taking in the disheveled camisole and bra underneath. Dear god she was beautiful. How was it that she’d turned off this part of her life? How was it that she’d given it up? Didn’t she realize she could have any man she wanted? And for some dumb reason, she seemed to want him?
His lips found hers again and she was still cupping his erection through his jeans and if she didn’t stop, he’d need to change. So he made the most logical decision he could in this moment - he pushed her back on the desk while her legs wrapped around him and he took her as much as he could, pushing against her like he was back in high school. Oh he should have waited to kiss her until he could get her completely naked. Until he could wrap those legs completely around his ears and bury his mouth between her legs. Until he could press inside her and feel her body around him. This was bad. This was very, very bad.
She pushed him back into her chair and hiked her skirt up as she straddled him and his hand went right up between her thighs, stroking lightly. Yep, she was wet and wanting and he couldn’t help himself and she gasped in a way that ruined him, completely.
“Murphy …”
The intercom buzzed, stopping his fingers from sliding inside her panties. But he pressed this thumb against her core and fluttered his fingers slightly and she gasped and met his eyes.
The fucking intercom. And again. She almost reached for it but he nudged her back onto the desk and she landed right on the phone and he kept kissing her. Let the show be damned for a few minutes. He was on a plane in a few hours and if this was all he got, he was taking advantage of it. He had a condom in his wallet. Professionalism be damned. His fingers were pushing at her core and he couldn’t stop kissing her.
This was heady.
And the intercom wouldn’t stop buzzing.
“We have to go.” She groaned, pushing him off of her. “Peter …” They both gasped and the moment was broken. They had to get to the set.
It took a couple of minutes to get situated. For his raging hard on to settle so he could go on air. For her to smooth down her hair and button her jacket and arrange the scarf to cover the emerging hickey on her neck. The office smelled of them.
“Murphy …”
“Later, okay?”
Suddenly, it was awkward. They stared at each other and he could see something in her eyes that was just as quickly hidden behind the same walls he used to keep people at arm’s length. She was tired of being hurt. He was on a plane in a few hours. She was already chalking this up to a moment of weakness. If he were smart, he’d do the same thing.
But in the elevator he kissed her again and she didn’t push him away and as they stepped off, he met her eyes and please oh please, let her not regret this because he really didn’t feel like leaving the right woman again.
If this was even an inkling of what it meant to fall in love, he was doomed.
***
After the show, everyone was chatting about Phil’s. About giving Peter the send off he deserved. Murphy just shook her head and begged off, Eldin needed to leave, she said. The baby was always a great excuse.
Her office was a disaster and still smelled faintly of the two of them. His aftershave, her perfume, the smell of their bodies wanting to come together. A secret of hers was that she loved the gentle smell of sex. And she’d had plenty of it in this office.
God, she was an idiot.
Taking a minute, she sank back into her chair, trying to at least put some of the notes in order. But the solace didn’t last long. He’d come looking for her and she had to get home and safe before her walls were completely broken down. He was heading back into a war zone and she was still reeling from the way she’d felt completely safe in his arms. Well, arm.
Not even Jerry had made her feel this way.
What way, exactly? Young and beautiful and wanting to have sex on her desk again? Jeeze. She was a middle aged woman with an almost two-year-old. She didn’t need this kind of mistake in her life. She didn’t need to be holding her breath every time there was a rumor of another kidnapped journalist or him being in the middle of the gunfire. She didn’t need to wait by the phone for a call that might not come. Or worse, for a call that could.
Before he could find her, she wrapped herself in her coat, slung her bag over her shoulder, and made a beeline for the parking garage. The drive home was done in silence, and she didn’t even fight for her usual space on the roads. She just wanted to get home, get out of this suit that smelled like Peter, and focus on the story she’d pushed to next week because of this interview. She wanted to go home and shower off the feel of his fingers brushing across her nipples and the way he’d felt between her legs as she straddled him in her chair. One finger had teased her, stroking her, and she’d almost shattered apart right there. Some kind of self control she had. She wanted to put on her most comfortable pjs and settle in the library and work until sleep claimed her or Avery needed something. Work and kid. That was supposed to be her focus.
But it hurt. Peter was leaving and she’d allowed just enough of the wall around her heart to come down to see that he was serious about his feelings for her and now he was leaving and she knew how it would work. He’d get back over there and some beautiful local would catch his eye and she’d be forgotten. She’d done her own share of that when she was in the field. She pushed aside the fact that he’d come back to her office to see her. She pushed aside the look in his eyes while he was stroking her. She hadn’t felt that powerful in years.
And now he was leaving and she needed the wall back up, fast. Because unless he got shot again, he’d have no reason to come back.
Inside, she tried to pull it together. Eldin, as usual, saw right through her, but he was also on his way out the door, which she appreciated. Oh, the paint in the library was wet. Okay. Well. She’d work in the living room. Work and kid. Work and kid. Work and …
The doorbell rang and there he was, trying to put on as brave a face as she was. God, why was he here? Why was he doing this to them? Why wouldn’t Eldin leave?
She heard the words coming out of her mouth even as her heart screamed at her to stop. “Look, let me just save us some time and say what people are supposed to say in situations like this.” She took a breath. “We’re both adults. Obviously there was an attraction building. But let’s not pretend it was more than it was. You still respect me, I respect you, we can still be friends, but you’re a rambling kind of guy and you’ve got to move on. Have I left anything out?”
Please, just go, her brain screamed. Her heart couldn’t keep still.
“How about, where do we go from here?”
Oh god. He’d come back to talk about them, he wanted something real, he was willing to put up with someone he cared about being nine time zones away so why couldn’t she get herself together? Why couldn’t she let him in? Why couldn’t she be as vulnerable right now as he was being? Why couldn’t she be as honest as he was being right now?
Stop being an idiot, her heart screamed.
Because, her brain retorted, the last time someone promised they’d be there if she needed anything, he’d vanished when it got too hard to juggle his caring about her and her caring about the baby. The last time someone had said they would care about her across time zones, he got on a plane to Brazil and now only communicated through postcards to his son. She couldn’t do this. Not again. She needed Peter gone because he was everything she loved in both Jerry and Jake. He was pushy and challenged her and he was also so dedicated to his job he was willing to risk his life. She needed him gone so she could shower away the memory of the office and force herself to focus on work. Her brain needed to win this round.
“You know,” she taunted him, “you’re always threatening to go away, but you never quite do.”
And it worked. She saw the gut punch, the change in his eyes. He left. And she sat there on the edge of the couch, hating herself. Hating her weakness for wanting someone. Hating that her heart was chasing him to the door, begging him to stay, and her brain was keeping her in check. Hating that as she sorted the mail, she didn’t trust he was gone. Hating that she went to the door, opened it, and when he wasn’t there, her heart shattered into shards so thin that it felt like every inch of her body was being sliced open from the inside.
Well. She’d done it now.
***
Peter almost left. Almost. He walked to his rental car and stared at his keys before turning and going back. He couldn’t walk away. Not again. He’d walked away once. After that night in her office, the day he quit FYI, the day he went round and round and round with her, saying he wouldn’t walk away. He could have kissed her then, could have got it out of his system then. Instead, he’d had to get shot and come back here because fate was a bitchy mistress.
He’d wait five minutes, he decided. Then, he’d go. If it really was just getting off in her office, she wouldn’t go to the door. But he knew it wasn’t. He’d seen how she looked at him, felt how she responded to him. He’d seen the look of terror in her eyes when he said he was getting on a plane tonight. She wanted this too, and somehow, he’d found the only woman in the world more terrified of relationships than he was.
He stood there in the shadows, waiting for her neighbors to call the cops, when the door opened. All he could see was her shadow, backlit by that stunning foyer, and he knew staying was worth it.
“Aren’t you at least going to look around?” He called as the door started to close.
She opened it again, and this time, there wasn’t any distance between them. She was there and he almost forgot his name but it was okay because she was there, in his personal space, and he was touching her. She was present, completely, with him.
“Okay,” she asked, “so where do we go from here?”
“You tell me,” he said, unable to stop the stupid grin that crossed his face. “You used most of my best material when I walked in here the first time.”
“I left out something crucial,” she said, “I have an unbroken track record of picking the wrong men.”
He chuckled, running his hand up her arm. “That’s where our material differs. I usually say I have an unbroken track record of leaving the right women.” As soon as it left his mouth, he knew she was in fact, the right woman. Now to convince her of that. But before his lips could find hers again, she pulled away.
“This is ridiculous,” she said. “I’m forty-five years old. There has to be some advantage to age and experience so that at a certain point relationships aren’t so damn complicated.”
He followed her back into the living room, sidestepping the heels she’d kicked off, and went along with her need to be logical. Because really, falling for someone who he never knew when he’d see again was really dumb.
“We’ve got attraction with a mutually recognized lack of compatibility. That’s just great.” Her head picked up. “Although, you can’t say there wouldn’t be some comfort in starting a relationship that’s predestined to fail. It kind of takes the pressure off.”
There was a flash of disappointment, but she had a point. They were both so terrible at relationships that this would naturally crash and burn. So to jump in, fully aware of that, it did take the pressure off. He let out a breath, knowing that if he had to live into something his job couldn’t allow, they’d only end up destroying each other. This way, they could play, they could have fun, and possibly even place bets on how it would end. Anyway, she wasn’t pulling away. She wanted this too. And if this was what would work for both of them, he’d take it. Especially because she kept using the word relationship. It was a terrifying word, but it meant she wanted more than the moment in her office. It meant they could give this a serious try. The release of tension let him tease her about being worth the wait and then join her on the couch and wrap her in his good arm. She snuggled in like she’d been born to do so and he nuzzled her forehead and sniffed her hair. When she kissed him, he almost forgot about his flight.
Instead, they did the responsible thing. He gave her the lock for her office door so when he came back, they wouldn’t have to move the file cabinet, and he didn’t promise to call. After all, he didn’t know when he’d be near a phone.
She teased him as he walked out the door.
“Hey, Petey? If you ever get shot at again and you happen to see my face …”
He smirked at her. “Yeah?”
“Picture it saying stay down, stupid.”
He laughed, but his eyes met hers and leaving was one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But he had a plane to catch. So he did what he was supposed to do and drove away from her, away from them. Really, if he were smart, he’d reschedule the flight. Instead, he opted to be responsible.
The airport was routine. Return the rental car, load up his luggage which was his bag and his camera. Get to the gate and wait. And wait.
He pulled out his Nokia and dialed a number he’d had memorized since his first week at FYI, and waited. Five rings in, he got ready to leave a message, but she answered, slightly breathless.
“Sorry,” she said with a chuckle. “I was in the shower.”
Great. Now he’d couldn’t get the image of water running of her naked body out of his mind. Then he realized she probably couldn’t hear the phone in the shower and his mind granted him a whole new picture. “No, you weren’t …” he challenged.
“I wasn’t going to answer,” she chuckled, in that low voice she’d used in his office, “But I figured it might be you.”
“You’re evil,” he groaned. “Look, I’ll call when I can and--”
“Petey,” she interrupted him. “Do me a favor and don’t make the promise. The last guy who said that …” she took a breath. “He didn’t even call when Avery was born.”
The shock hit him, hard. He hadn’t processed just how alone Murphy was with this kid. He knew she was doing it by herself, but he’d always kind of figured the dad was somewhere in the picture. He also had a feeling no one else knew that Avery’s father hadn’t even called when he was born. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Just. Don’t make promises you can’t keep. So what, you called to say you’d call?”
He laughed a bit. “Yeah. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Okay.” Her voice was soft and vulnerable. “Be safe, okay? You made me a promise.”
“Oh, what was that?”
“That you’re better with two arms. I mean, it was pretty damn good with one, but …”
“I’ll be back soon,” was all he could choke out. She laughed.
“Soon, Petey.”
He sighed and hung up, trying to push the images of what she’d been doing when he called out of his mind. Soon wasn’t soon enough and it killed him, because he had gone crazy sitting behind an anchor desk. He needed to be out with the stories. But she and Avery were here. And splitting the time was going to be on him, on his stories. Soon wasn’t soon enough. And for the first time, he understood why she’d made the decision to cut back. But his flight was boarding and there was a war to cover and he at least had the handkerchief she’d tucked in her suit jacket. It smelled of her perfume. Hopefully it would last until he made it back to her again.