He thought fleetingly of the simple and small diamond he’d given her as an engagement ring because that’s what he’d thought she wanted. She had hidden this side from him, and he couldn’t figure out why. One of his skills was reading people, so he sat back and profiled her quickly in his head.
She had been raised by a single mom and worked young at a hardware store. He still didn’t understand why she didn’t let herself have sparkles. Maybe that could be his goal.
“Denver?” she prodded.
He’d forgotten all about Colorado for the briefest of moments. “Come sit down. I’ll answer every question you have.”
Serenity slowly walkedinto the living room and sat on the edge of the sofa, curling one leg up under her. She stretched for the light pink blanket her mom had knitted years ago, its delicate fibers brimming with sweet memories of holiday mornings, and settled the weight over her bare legs, trying not to shiver.
Being this near Rory, her heart rate accelerated, and her lungs heated. In the morning, he was all male animal: tufted dark hair, lazy eyes, and hard body. The man slept hot and always had, so he’d undressed down to his boxers while sleeping on her sofa.
The healed knife wound in his upper right shoulder now made sense. She stared at it and tried to keep her breathing calm.
He followed her gaze. “That was business.”
“For the CIA?” She plucked at a loose string on the blanket.
“Yeah.”
She couldn’t stop her focus from sliding down his well-defined and muscular chest, which seemed as natural on him as a wild animal. He was broad and taut, and those abs held sculpted ridges she’d once spent hours tracing with her fingers. His body had always fascinated her with its delicate balance between strength and symmetry. She gestured toward the scar on his left hip. “You said you were shot in a hunting accident.”
“It was a type of hunting, but it was no accident.”
Ah. “How many people have you shot?”
He reached out and lifted her chin with one knuckle. “Just enough for either me or my team to survive.”
Her stomach lurched, and she pulled away. Her Rory had actually killed people. She looked down at her hands and then over to the Christmas tree, which cast romantic hues across the cheerful room. Rufus snored quietly beneath the boughs. The outside world disappeared as the wind blasted the windows and heat warmed the interior, leaving them cocooned in the quiet morning. Anticipation and intrigue wandered through her. Just who was this man? “Have you always been a good liar?”
“Never tried much,” he admitted. He stretched, looking tousled yet dangerous in the morning light. “Believe it or not, they teach you how to excel at it.”
She couldn’t believe he was finally telling her the truth, although how would she ever know? “I don’t like that you could lie to me, and I’d have no clue.” Finally, she looked up at him of her own volition.
“I’ll never lie to you.” His eyes were the blue of a tempestuous storm, brewing with intensity, the calm inside fathomless and magnetic. “I was recruited out of basic training,” he said softly, warming the air around them with just his body heat.
A scraping sound came from outside, and she leaned back to open the curtain. Brandon, with a bright yellow hat on his head, was shoveling her drive, standing on one foot with his cast encased in plastic wrap. He looked up and grinned, waving. “Darn it,” she muttered.
Rory stood, crossing to the doorway to open it. “I’ve got it, Brandon. Get back home, or I’m going to call the doc.” He waited, watching, and then returned to the sofa. “Stubborn kid. Would probably make a great agent.”
She couldn’t help but snuggle a little closer, her knee touching his beneath the light blanket. “Speaking of which. Does your family know?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, my brothers know. My folks are aware. The rest of the family suspects.”
“What exactly is your job?”
He shook his head. “I’m a CIA Operative, and I can’t talk to you about previous cases. However, I will let you know about this one situation since I have to leave in about an hour. When I first started at the agency, a guy named Lewis Hackson trained me. He was tough and smart, and as it turned out, he was dirty.”
She sat back, heat rushing through her. “Dirty?”
“Yeah, he turned against the firm.”
“He was like a double agent?” she whispered.
Rory’s lips quirked in his almost-smile. “No, he wasn’t a double agent. He just stole money he shouldn’t have from one of the international cartels we took down. I discovered the theft and turned him in.” Rory’s jaw hardened, and a muscle ticked down the side of his neck.
“That must have been difficult for you,” she said softly, her heart aching.
“Yeah. I thought we were friends. We weren’t,” he stated curtly, looking away.
