She turned to find him walking toward her. His loose-hipped strut emphasized his coordination, his extreme agility. And she could have gone on simply watching him move, watching his muscles ripple, his skin catch the light and gleam, for the rest of her life. But he finished off the bottle of water in one long gulp—hydrating before the dive because hydrated blood meant thin blood which, in turn, meant more easily oxygenated blood—and set the empty container on the counter behind her. He kept his hands planted on the cabinet top on either side of her waist, boxing her in. She was instantly awash in the waves of heat coming off him. It was delicious,comforting. She wanted to snuggle into him like a cat curling up in a patch of sunshine.
“Do youthinkit’s a bad thing, darlin’?” His tone was hot and dark, his accent as syrupy as burned sugar.
“Considering my line of work,” she said, not surprised to hear her voice had gone hoarse. His nearness always had that effect on her, “tossing my cookies at the first sight of violence could be a bit of a hindrance. To me. To whoever my partner might be at the time.”
“Listen.” He placed a warm hand on her shoulder. She was instantly reminded of the feel of his callused palm on her breast, how the roughness had abraded and stimulated her nipple. “If the loss of life, whether that life be one of good or evil, didn’t make you sick,that’swhen I’d start to worry about you.”
She pursed her lips.
“I’ve seen it happen,” he continued. “Men who’ve grown so hard over the years that death and violence no longer affect them.Thoseare the guys who wind up on the news because they ran into a village and murdered a bunch of women and children. Killin’shouldn’tbe an easy thing to seeorto do, Olivia. When itbecomeseasy, that’s when you can go from bein’ a bad guy workin’ on the good side to bein’ a bad guy workin’ on the bad side.”
“Youmake it look easy,” she whispered, remembering the quick, efficient way he’d dispatched the tango who drew down on them in the water.
“There’s a world of difference between proficiency and ease,” he said. “I’mproficientat it. But don’t think for an instant it’s ever easy. Ilivewith the lives I’ve taken. Every day. And even though I feel each kill was necessary, even righteous in some cases, even though I have no trouble sleepin’ at night, that doesn’t mean I’m not changed by each one of them. Just a little. Made less somehow. And made more somehow too.”
Again, everything he was saying made sense, but… “I’m afraid I won’t be able to do my job,” she admitted. “I’m afraid someone will be depending on me to cover their backs, and I’ll be too busy horking my guts up to do it.”
He pulled her close and she went willingly, wrapping her arms around his waist and flattening her hands against his warm back. His skin was impossibly smooth, and the hard muscles made a deep groove of his spine. When she pressed her cheek against his chest, next to the old silver coin he wore around his neck, he smelled like sea and sand, like sunshine and Leo. He smelled like everything she’d never known was missing in her life.
“That won’t happen,” he assured her. “You won’tletthat happen.”
Oh, she wished she felt as sure as he sounded…
* * *
3:41 p.m.…
“And the truth of the matter is, I don’t want to be a bad guy. Even if Iamworking on the good side,” she admitted, her soft lips moving against the skin of his chest, her hot breath tickling the hairs there. “I want to be agoodguy.”
Had Leo not heard it with his own ears, he wouldn’t have believed Olivia’s tone could ever be described as plaintive. And because he loved her, those three pitiful sentences curled themselves around his heart and squeezed. He wanted to roll her in bubble wrap, lock her in a closet, and stand guard outside with an Uzi. Just to keep her safe from the world, from ever feeling like she wasn’t good enough or worthy enough, from ever having to witness death or dying again. For all her bravery and bravado, Olivia Mortier had a tender, sweet heart.
He hoped one day, maybe someday soon, to win that heart for himself.
Pulling her closer, he planted a kiss atop her damp head, loving the way her hair felt against his lips. “Did somethin’ happen in the last eighteen months?”
She pushed back to blink up at him. Were her eyes overly bright? He cocked his head.Nah.She might be letting him see her softer side, but that stopped well short of tears. He wondered absently what it would take to bring Special Agent Olivia Mortier to tears. Then immediately hoped he’d never get the opportunity to find out. The sight would likely bring him to his knees.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“I just mean…and don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t help but notice you seem different.”
“How’s that?”
“Gentler, maybe? More circumspect?”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. He tried not to let the fact that he got a peek at that front tooth register with the moron in his wet suit. Unfortunately, the moron was nothing if not observant, ready to spring to life at the drop of a hat.Forchrissakes.
“You mean nervous, right? Less sure of myself?” Her tone definitely wasn’t plaintive now. It was…shaken.And that gutted him like a fish.
“No,” he assured her, but her eyes slid away from him. A sure sign she didn’t believe him. He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “No, Olivia. That’s not what I meant at all. I mean you seem more careful, more cautious. And I can’t help but wonder if somethin’ happened that caused you to—”
“Oh, other than my life happening?” she blurted, her blue eyes wild. “Other than I spend every day trying to stay two steps ahead of people who would like nothing better than to see our country burned to ashes, and the whole awful truth is that it’s terrifying and exhausting? Other than I’m thirty years old and I don’t even…don’t even…” She stumbled to a stop, shaking her head. “Forget it.” She sliced a hand through the air karate-chop style. “I’m just having a crisis of confidence, I think. Given the way this whole mission has gone, can you really blame me?”
He clocked her change of subject with a raised brow but decided not to push it. “You couldn’t have known any of this would happen, and besides—”
She shoved a finger against his lips, and it took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to suck it into his mouth.
“Don’t,” she warned him, her husky voice like a wet tongue swirling around inside his ear. Her hair was starting to dry, and the salt water made it wave around her face and shoulders. He liked it. It made her look unkempt, a wilder, freer version of Olivia.
