I let myself in the gate at the end of my lane and locked it behind me with a feeling of pulling up the castle drawbridge. The world outside could go fuck itself. I was home, and I intended to stay there for a while, working on my house and enjoying my freedom.
The day flew by while I absorbed myself installing the in-floor heating system and the first of the floor tiles for my bathroom. By the time I called a halt there was still time to bake some bread, and I relaxed and enjoyed the therapeutic yeasty smell while I kneaded. Around nine o’clock in the evening, I patted the smooth, hot loaves with satisfaction and inhaled the delicious fresh-baked aroma, basking in normalcy.
I was just turning away when a muffled thump from the front yard pumped terror through my veins. I dashed to the bathroom for my crowbar, my mind rocketing through the possibilities.
I’d locked the gate. Nobody should have been able to drive up. I was miles from town, so nobody should be arriving on foot.
As I crept toward the front door with the crowbar clenched in my fist, I cursed the fact that the interior lights were on. The blinds were closed, and I couldn’t peek out without being in full view of anyone outside.
The sound of the doorbell convulsed every muscle in my body, pain scoring my too-tight grip on the crowbar. I forced myself into analysis mode, trying to ignore the panicked thudding of my heart.
At least now I knew there was definitely somebody out there, and they weren’t making any attempt to sneak up on me. I took a deep, steadying breath, berating myself for not installing the fisheye lens that I’d left lying in its package on the table. I was definitely going to do that. Tonight. If I lived.
The doorbell rang again, followed by a knock. Pulling myself together, I moved closer to the door and called out, “Who’s there?”
“John Kane,” the deep voice replied.
I gasped relief, immediately tempered with suspicion. Anybody could call out a name. I clutched my crowbar, opening the door left-handed as I stood away from the path it would follow if somebody kicked it from outside.
The door swung open to reveal Kane himself, and I blew out a breath. He frowned, taking in my white-knuckled grip on the crowbar. “You need a fisheye lens in this door. I meant to mention it the last time I was here.”
I nodded vigorously, sheer relief making me babble. “Come on in. You’re right. I’ve got one already, right there on the table. I’m going to install it tonight.”
He came in, sniffing the air, and I locked the door behind him.
“It smells good in here.” He zeroed in on the loaves. “Is that fresh bread?”
Taking a deep breath, I pried my stiff fingers loose to set the crowbar down, and gave him what I hoped was a casual smile. “Want some? It never gets better than this.”
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got time for fresh bread.”
I got out a plate and turned away to hide my shaking hands while I cut a couple of thick, warm slices. I set the plate on the table along with butter and a knife, and he dropped into a chair and wolfed down the bread.
“More?”
He nodded. “Please. I missed supper.”
“Don’t you ever eat regular meals or sleep regular hours?” I asked as I passed him the loaf and the knife.
He shrugged, slathering on the butter. “We’ve been busy tying up the last of the loose ends and writing reports. I’ve been pressed for time because I have to fly out tonight to deal with some critical business overseas. I’m glad you were here. I wanted to touch base with you before I left.”
I watched him warily. “I need to ask you something.”
He gestured at me to continue, swallowing a mouthful of bread.
“Is there any chance of legal repercussions for me as a result of all my various, um, adventures?”
He shook his head. “No. The only thing that was working against you was your possession of the key. I’m satisfied you were telling the truth about how you got it. Everything else… you’ll be considered to have been working as part of the team, under my orders. The only place that information will appear will be in my classified reports.”
I sank into a chair, surreptitiously letting the tension leak out of my shoulders. “Thank God. Thank you, too.”
He leaned back, stretching out his legs and locking his hands behind his head. I stole an appreciative look at those bulging biceps again. Yum.
I realized he was speaking, and dragged my attention back to what he was saying.
“Because of you, we were able to uncover a potentially disastrous situation before it happened. Our government owes you, and I’ve put that in my report. I’m sorry it came at such a cost to you, though.”
I shrugged. “I’m just glad it’s resolved. And I’m glad none of the good guys got hurt. Much,” I added sheepishly. “Has everybody recovered from my kind attentions?”
He laughed as he rose. “No permanent harm done.” As I stood, too, he nodded at my scabbed knuckles. “Next time, aim for a softer target,” he advised, rubbing his chin.
I gave him a wry smile. “I was going for your throat. I just had lousy aim. Luckily.” I trailed him as he headed toward the door. “That pretty much sums up this whole episode. Luck.”
He hesitated and turned back to me. “Aydan…” He frowned. “The reason I came by… I… wanted to ask you something. Completely off the record. Just between the two of us.”
I glanced up at him. He’d taken me by surprise when he turned, and I was standing a little nearer than I would normally have chosen. That close, he was very tall and broad-shouldered, and I resisted the urge to step closer. Quite a bit closer.
Modulating my voice to casual interest, I replied, “Okay, shoot.”
He looked down at me, his grey eyes piercing. “Last night, when you were drugged, you said ‘They know about me’. And you were ready to lay down your life to protect classified information.”
I held up a hand to stop him. “No, I was ready to lay down my life because I’m a coward. I fear being tortured and maimed more than I fear death.”
“You’re no coward,” he said softly. “And I don’t believe in coincidences. I want to know. Aydan, are you an undercover agent?”
I met his eyes, trying to make him believe me. “John, I’m just a civilian. The whole thing was coincidence. Pure dumb luck.”
He searched my face. “There’s no other answer to that question, is there? If you’re an agent, you’d have to tell me that.”
I didn’t know what else to say, so I just gave him a half-smile and a shrug. No way to prove a negative.
He reached for my hand and held it gently. “All right. If that’s the way it has to be. But if you ever need help, you have my number.” He leaned down and kissed me lightly, his lips barely brushing mine.
The touch jolted through me, and my grip tightened on his hand. Our eyes met.
“Tell me if you feel sexually harassed by anything I’m about to do,” I said.
I pulled him down into a hungry kiss and felt his lips curve up against mine. He kissed me back, hard, his hands knotting in my hair. I ran trembling hands over his massive arms and chest, the heat of his muscles burning through his T-shirt and igniting my body.
Breathless with lust, I teased his lips with the tip of my tongue. He growled and backed me up against the wall while we devoured each other. His knee pushed between my legs, and fire spread low and fast while I made slow circles against his hard thigh.
When he pulled away abruptly, I let out an involuntary whimper and braced myself against the wall to keep my knees from buckling. His chest rose and fell with his unsteady breathing, his eyes dilated black.
“I can’t do this,” he said hoarsely. “I have to catch this flight. National security. No choice. I’m late already.”
I swallowed hard and straightened, trying to catch my breath. “Okay,” I said, my voice almost as husky as his. “Take care. Stay safe.”
He nodded. “You, too.”
He hesitated, then turned on his heel. I propped myself against the door to watch while he strode to his SUV, and he swung into the vehicle and drove away without looking back.
Damn.