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SIX WEEKS LATER
Fish turned his rental car onto Lexi’s street. She still lived here—he’d managed to glean that much from his research. Three houses from hers, he slowed. Pulled over to the curb. Stopped. What was he doing?
Checking in with an old friend. Nothing wrong with that. Say hello, then drive back to the airport. Catch the next flight to San Francisco. Or maybe he’d go somewhere else. He had ten days’ leave coming.
He should have called her first. Rejection over the phone would be easier to take than getting shut down face to face. She was in his cell phone contact list, but no matter how many times he’d stared at her image, he’d never been able to hit the Send button.
He’d followed the news, seen the Falcon’s empire crumble like a sand castle at high tide. He’d scoured the internet. Lexi’s name had never come up. The Burnside PD had been purged, and the new chief was all about community involvement. When Fish had called, asking to speak to Lexi, the clerk who answered said there was no one by that name working for the department.
He’d drawn the line at asking Emi’s team to investigate what Lexi was doing. She had his number. His email address. Hell, she knew where he lived. He wasn’t that hard to reach.
Except for the assignments that had taken him off the grid. All the more reason to move on with his life without Lexi.
He was still trying to convince himself to get out of the car when Lexi’s Prius drove by and rolled up her driveway.
Let’s do it.
Blackthorne’s call to action didn’t ease his apprehension. A squadron of Apache helos circled in his stomach.
You’re a jerk.
He reached into the backseat for the bouquet he’d picked up at an airport stall. Should he have gone with something fancier than assorted flowers, most of which he couldn’t name? He’d never asked Lexi what her favorites were.
Enough stalling. Get your ass in gear and go. What’s the worst that could happen?
She’d send him on his way. He was man enough to handle that.
He got out of the car, chirped the locks, and ambled up the sidewalk, still second, or third, or fourth-guessing his actions.
He climbed her porch steps and raised a hand to ring the doorbell. Facing a potential ambush by terrorists had to be easier than this. He pressed the button.
Rapid, thudding footfalls approached, followed by a high-pitched “Who is it?”
Hearing Sofia’s voice nearly undid him. He cleared his throat and plucked a single blossom from the bouquet. “It’s Marv.”
“Lexi, it’s Marv!” she squealed. “Can I open the door?”
There went any hope of surprise. Surely, she wouldn’t send him away and disappoint Sofia. Would she?
A lock clunked, and the door opened. Sofia stood there, beaming. Alone.
“Hi, Sofia,” he whispered, not quite sure he trusted his voice.
Would you suck it up? Act like a mensch, dammit.
He handed her the flower. “Can I talk to Lexi?”
“She’s in the kitchen.” The child pivoted and dashed away. Was he supposed to follow?
Beat standing around here feeling like an idiot. He paused in the kitchen doorway. Lexi stood at the sink, rinsing out a lunchbox and thermos. Why did the sight grip his heart?
He found his voice. “Hi, Lexi.”
Moment of truth.
She upended the thermos into the draining rack, turned, and reached for a towel.
Fish was afraid to meet her eyes, afraid of what he’d see.
She dried the lunchbox, set it on the counter. “Hi, Marv.”
Sofia, for better or for worse, grabbed his hand. “Do you want to read with me? Miss Webster says I’ve made amazing progress.”
“That’s a good idea,” Lexi said. “I have work to do.”
Marv handed Lexi the flowers. “These are for you.”
“I got one, too,” Sofia said, waving hers.
“Thanks. They’re lovely.” She lifted her brows at Sofia.
The child spun to face him. “Yes. Thank you. Mine is lovely, too.”
“I’ll put them in water while you’re reading.” Lexi opened a cabinet and reached for a vase on an upper shelf.
“Let me,” Fish said. He moved beside her, inhaling the scent of her, not able to control the immediate diversion of his blood supply. His hand brushed against her arm as he brought the vase down.
Her eyes, as emerald green as he remembered, locked on his. Was he imagining the heat he saw there?
“I do have work to do,” she whispered.
“Can Marv stay for dinner?” Sofia asked. “He could help me with my spelling words.”
“I’d love to, but that’s for Lexi to decide,” he said.
Please say yes.
A smile played around Lexi’s lips. “I guess so.”
“We could go out,” he said. “My treat.”
A fast food burger with a kid wasn’t the romantic dinner Fish had dared hope for, nor was listening to Sofia’s endless chatter the kind of conversation he’d thought of, yet it felt ... warm. Comfortable. Right.
Back at Lexi’s, after Sofia was tucked into bed, Lexi offered a glass of wine. “I guess we should talk.”
True or not, those were words no man wants to hear. His mouth went dry, and he wasn’t sure talking would be possible.
***
AFTER OPENING THE WINE, Lexi carried the bottle and two glasses to the coffee table. Seeing Marv interact with Sofia had her emotions roiling. The child was delighted to see him, and he seemed equally glad to see her. That didn’t change the fact that he wasn’t the right man, and it wasn’t the right time. “I suggest we take turns asking questions. All answers have to be honest.”
He poured each of them a glass. “Seems fair. You start.”
“Where the hell have you been?” she said, calmly sipping her wine.
A corner of his mouth twitched upward. “Working,” he said. “I’ve had a lot of assignments keeping me busy.”
“And out of communication, I suppose.”
“I think it’s my turn,” he said, diverting the issue.
Was he going to start with easy, obvious questions, or go for the meaty ones? She swirled her wine. “Go ahead.”
“Are you mad at me?”
She smiled. “Mad? No. I was the one who left. Why did you come back?”
He scratched his jaw. “To see if you still thought of me the way I think of you. Which is all the time. And to thank you. You made me take another look at myself, and helped me straighten my head.”
She tried to remember, drew a blank. “What do you mean?”
“The op—the one I was called to right after you effectively fired me. It was a damn rerun of the training mission I’d told you about, down to the white water, but it was one of our guys in the river. When I got the go, I jumped in without thinking and realized the team trusted me. Always had.”
Her heart squeezed. “Of course they would.” She topped off her wine glass. How had she half-emptied it so quickly? “Was there a question in there?”
He huffed out a sigh. “Might as well make it one. Do you still have feelings for me?”
She swallowed a gulp of wine. “Of course I do. I always did. When you didn’t get in touch, it was—” she almost said easier, but that would be a lie— “better to move on without you. With Sofia needing me, I had to put her first. She needed time. I needed time.”
“I understand. Sofia’s number one. Where am I?”
It wasn’t his turn, but she wasn’t going to enforce the rules. They needed to hash things out. “You’re next. Right now, there’s a huge gap between number one and number two. I’m a conditional foster parent for Sofia, and have to be better than a natural parent would be.”
She studied his expression, looking to see if he’d grasped the reality of what that meant. Much as she’d missed him, much as she’d regretted their parting—especially the abrupt way it had happened—much as she wanted him, it wasn’t going to happen. Couldn’t happen.
Yes, he got it.
“Are we allowed to be friends?” he asked.
“Of course. It’s just—” She glanced toward the bedroom.
“I’m getting a hotel room. Not that I expected to stay here,” he added quickly. “I came straight from the airport.”
“I’d like to see you while you’re here. Maybe a late breakfast, after I drop Sofia off at school tomorrow.”
“You don’t have to work?” he asked.
“I work from home. Virtual Assistant to half a dozen mystery authors. As long as I get everything done, my boss isn’t too picky about the exact hours.”
He finished the rest of his wine and set the glass on the coffee table. “Nice boss.”
She grinned. “Oh, she can be a real bitch, but most of the time, she’s easy to get along with.”
Marv slid closer. “Do I need to talk to her, explain you need time off?”
Lexi set her glass next to his. She sat up straight, folded her arms across her chest, and put on her don’t mess with me expression. “Ask away. Anything you say to me goes directly to my boss.”
As he put the pieces together, his eyebrows bunched and his lips worked in and out. Enticing lips. Lips that demanded contact with hers. She scooted closer, succumbed to their demands.
Lips in contact led to tongues making their own demands. Passion flared. She threaded her fingers through his hair, pulled him close.
Gasping, she broke away. “Not here. Not now.”
His breathing was ragged. “Does that mean another place, another time?”
“Maybe,” she whispered as she put distance between them. She rubbed her hands on her khakis, shook out her hair. How easy it would be to take him to her bedroom.
Easy didn’t make it right.
“Whose turn is it to ask a question?” she asked.
He dragged a shaky breath. “I’ll go. Did you find out how Cataline died?”
Lexi explained how Snake had turned on Gunther, and how Gunther had tried to put the squeeze on her. “I insisted, for Sofia’s sake, that my name not be associated with any of Gunther’s doing.”
“It worked. I saw how Gunther’s operation fell apart, but I couldn’t find any mention of you being involved.”
“What about your op?” she asked. “I have to admit, I stopped paying attention once I was responsible for Sofia. If you’re allowed to say anything.”
“Let’s leave it at Gunther’s attempts to expand from drug procurement to major smuggling didn’t pan out well for him. A lot of alphabet agencies were involved, and, as is the norm, Blackthorne remained behind the scenes.”
They caught each other up, falling into comfortable conversation, although there was no denying the sexual tension between them. Marv moved in, settled his arm around her shoulders. She rested her head against his chest, inhaling his never-forgotten scent. She could lie here all night. Common sense, once again, wormed its way between them.
“It’s late,” she whispered. “You need to find a hotel, and I have more work to do.”
“Are we a go for breakfast?”
She stroked his jaw, scratchy with stubble. Touching him seemed to unleash emotions she’d vowed to keep in check. “For sure. Maybe lunch and dinner, too.”