She turned and looked at him. Her full cheeks and lush lips made her look younger than her thirty-two years. In fact, in the dusky interior of the circus ring, she looked exactly as she had ten years ago. Youthful. Sprightly. Her strawberries-and-cream complexion glowed with health. Her wide, bluish-gray eyes were bright with intelligence and humor.
She’d caught his mind wandering, and she probably thought he’d been thinking about getting her naked. Which, in a roundabout way, he had been. He’d been thinking of how he’d be getting her naked for the rest of their lives if he played his cards right.
“How did the Mossad get you out of Iran? The Intelligence community speculated about it for years. I heard rumors there are tunnels dug through the desert that you used to escape. There was gossip that maybe you’d been spirited across the mountains by the nomadic Qashqai people. But my favorite story involved you being strapped to an unmanned drone and flown out of the country.”
He chuckled. “Nothing that exciting. My escape started with a series of safe houses. I was moved every three hours until I hopped aboard a commercial flight under cover of darkness.”
She turned onto her side, curling her legs and going up on one elbow to cup her head in her hand. “No way. A commercial flight? The Revolutionary Guards were scouring the entire country for you!”
“Well, it might not have been as simple as that.”
She scooted closer, her curiosity overpowering her fear. He’d take it. When it came to her, he’d take anything. Everything.
The smell of freesia and apricot blossoms surrounded her in a soft cloud. He let it fill his lungs. Wanted to bury his head between her breasts where he knew the aroma was the strongest and just stay there forever.
When she’d said the name Mark earlier, he’d nearly given himself away. It’d been years since he’d heard that name in reference to himself. Even longer since he’d heard it from her sweet lips. No one had ever said Mark the way she did. Wrapping her mouth around the M-sound like Jessica Rabbit. So sexy he wanted to eat her alive.
“The Mossad had a commercial pilot and copilot on their payroll,” he explained, shifting slightly because being this close to her, breathing her in and remembering the way she’d loved him, the way she’d made love to him, had his dick straining against his fly. “That night, those pilots were crewing a late flight from Tehran to Dubai. I cut a hole in the perimeter fence around the airport, and while they were taxiing, I ran across the tarmac and climbed inside the wheel well.”
Her chin jerked back. “People have died doing that.”
“They die from the cold and lack of oxygen at high altitude. My pilots faked a pressurization problem in the cabin, which meant they made the whole trip at low altitude.” He shivered in memory. “I had no trouble breathing, but it was still freezing. From Dubai, I caught a flight to Germany. The doctors there thought I might lose a couple of toes to frostbite. But after a few days they pinkened up and I managed to keep them.”
“Good God and a half.”
He smiled.
“Stop that.” She pointed at his face. “I’ve told you it’s not fair.”
“Maybe I don’t want to play fair.”
The teasing light in her eyes died. He could see the pulse in her neck kick up. “Sonya, I know you are having second thoughts. I know I frighten you and—”
“That’s not why I’m having second thoughts,” she interrupted.
“No?”
“It’s just that…” She stopped and cleared her throat. “I worry if I sleep with you, I’ll start having feelings for you. I know I keep harping on it, but you’re so like Mark.” And there it was again. That name. His name. “I fell so hard for him,” she went on, having no idea what the sound of his name on her lips did to him. “So hard. Which makes me wonder what would stop me from falling for you too.”
Angel’s heart stuttered to a stop inside his chest. “Would falling for me be a bad thing?”
“Yes. I mean…” She waved her hand to indicate his length. “You’re you. This top-secret spy guy. I don’t want to fall for you and then have you break my heart when you wave buh-bye and disappear on a mission to who knows where doing God knows what.”
“I told you Black Knights Inc. is closing its doors now that President Thompson is no longer in office. Once we bring Lord Grafton down, we all go back to being civilians. No more missions.”
“Even you?”
“Even me.”
Her face softened. “How do you feel about that?”
“I have sacrificed everything for this job.” Emotion swirled in his chest. “My homeland. My identity. My face.” My woman, he almost added, but stopped himself in time. “I have done my duty. I have given up my wants and needs for long enough, lived for others for long enough. Now…my turn. My time.”
Time he claimed what should’ve rightfully been his all along. Claimed who should’ve rightfully been his because there was no more fooling himself. Sonya Butler was his one and only. The one he’d let get away because he’d been young and dumb and full of grand ideas about duty and sacrifice and saving the world.
God, that sounded so made-for-television Lifetime Movie–worthy.
Her throat worked over a swallow. “Angel, I’m not sure I—”
