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Jonas found the office halfway down the hall from the elevator. The door stood open, and the interior gave new meaning to the word chaos. Filing cabinets and bookcases had been shoved aside; radio equipment and an open rifle case littered the desktop. His gaze skimmed over it all and settled on the sole person in the room.
Kate.
She stood with a sniper's rifle in her hands, silhouetted against the gray daylight of the window out of which she gazed. Pausing in the doorway, he stared at her. At all of her: the woman, the cop, the partner. The full impact of the role she'd played in his rescue hit him square in the solar plexus. He owed her so much.
No. He owed her everything.
Kate turned her head, and her gaze locked with his. For an instant, unguarded warmth shone from amber depths, reaching out to envelop him. To hold him. Then a shutter dropped over her expression, turning it guarded—and Jonas's belly cold. His hands curled into fists at his sides. He'd done that to her. Hurt her. Betrayed her. Pushed her away so often...
Too often?
He hesitated. Then he closed the door behind him and threaded his way across the room to her side. Every fiber in his being ached to reach for her on the spot, to fold her against him and hold her close and never let her go. But the rifle and her reserve made him pause. Told him he needed to go slow.
He cleared the tightness from his throat and forced a half-smile, trying for a lightness he didn't feel. "That was a pretty good shot you made just now, Constable Dexter."
Kate raised an eyebrow. "Pretty good, Agent Burke? I'm pretty sure that shot just saved your life."
Jonas's smile faded. "You saved my life," he corrected, his voice turning gruff. "Thank you for that."
She looked away, not answering.
Keep it neutral, his inner voice prompted.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He indicated the rifle, then shoved his hands into his pockets.
"It never came up," she said, shrugging. She carried the rifle to the desk and began to dismantle it.
"You mean I never asked."
Kate set the scope into its spot in the case, and he saw her hands tremble. Delayed reaction? Pain from her shoulder? Both possibilities made his gut clench.
"You never asked," she agreed.
"Because I was an ass."
"No," she replied. Then she smiled a tiny smile. "Well. Maybe sometimes."
A chuckle formed in Jonas's chest, but before it could escape, Kate continued.
"You didn't ask because you didn't want to know," she said. "You didn't want to care."
The amber eyes lifted to his, making it his turn to look away as his throat tightened again. She knew him so well. Better than he knew himself. And he couldn't keep up the pretense anymore.
"It didn't work," he said. "Not wanting to care, I mean. It didn't work."
Kate's hands stilled. Then she finished putting the rifle pieces back in their case and secured the clasps, her movements measured and precise. But her hands still shook, and from the corner of his eye, Jonas saw her swallow and close her eyes.
"You don't have to do this," she said. "I knew what I was getting into."
He snorted, thinking back over the past weeks. "I highly doubt that."
"You know what I mean."
No more pretending, Jonas reminded himself. "Kate—"
"Jonas, please." Kate's weary gaze met his. "Don't make this harder than it already is. You made your position clear from the start. Me choosing to ignore it was—"
"Your problem, not mine?" he interrupted.
A flash of pain crossed her expression, but she squared her shoulders and didn't look away. "Yes."
"But it's not," he contradicted softly. "And I realize now that it never has been. Kate—"
The office door opened.
"Oh, good. You're still here." Grant Douglas's voice cut between them, and Jonas flashed an irritated glance at the other man, who stood framed in the doorway. Douglas looked askance at Kate. "Am I interrupting?"
"No," she said.
"Yes," Jonas said simultaneously. A tiny spark of warmth flared in Kate's eyes.
"Uh—well, I just wanted to remind you about doing up a report, Kate," said Douglas. "And Jonas, we'll need a statement from you."
"Later," Jonas told him.
"It should be done as soon as possible, while everything is still fresh in..." Douglas's voice trailed off. His gaze narrowed on Jonas, weighing and assessing him in the same way he'd done at their first meeting. Then he smiled. "Later is good. Just make sure you see me before either of you goes anywhere."
The door closed behind him, and Jonas turned his attention back to Kate. She'd leaned against the desk, her arms braced on either side of her, waiting for him to continue. He took a deep breath.
The office door opened again.
"Kate? Oh, good. You're still here," said Dave Jennings. "I was wondering what your plans were for heading back to Ottawa. I'm booked on a flight tomorrow afternoon. Do you want me to see if I can get you a seat on the same one?"
Jonas muttered an expletive under his breath. He scowled at Jennings. "She's not going back tomorrow," he snapped. "She's not going anywhere until she listens to me, damn it!"
Kate stared at him for a second before looking at Jennings. "Can we figure it out later?" she asked. "I'll be out in a few minutes."
"Of course." Jennings shook his head at Jonas. "You've been up here for almost five minutes, Burke. What are you waiting for?"
"Peace and quiet," Jonas retorted.
Jennings chuckled. "Leaving now. I'll see you downstairs, Kate."
* * *
Kate thought she nodded, but she couldn't be sure, because Dave's words to Jonas had unlocked something in her that she'd given up on. A hope she thought had died. The door closed behind her old partner, leaving her and Jonas alone. Silence descended. The flicker of hope in her breast struggled to become more. To remember Jonas's words. To maybe begin believing them.
"Not wanting to care...it didn't work."
She curled her hands around the edge of the desk, trying to remember the fine art of breathing. She raised her gaze to the brilliant blue waiting for her. The office door opened again and several FBI agents filed into the room, chatting and laughing, oblivious to the two occupants already there. The flash of annoyance in Jonas's eyes found an echo inside her; his impatience became hers. Whatever he wanted to say to her, she suddenly—desperately—needed to hear it. She opened her mouth to ask the agents to leave, but Jonas beat her to it.
"Damn it!" he roared. Conversation ceased, and the agents turned as one to stare at them. Jonas glared back at them. "Can we please have an uninterrupted five minutes?"
Uncomprehending looks gave way to dawning awareness; awareness to knowing smirks. The group shuffled out again, their whispers interspersed with chuckles and sly looks, and the door closed once more.
Anticipation curled through Kate's belly and spread through her chest. The tension in the room soared to new heights. Jonas stood almost a dozen feet away, but his warm strength reached across the space between them to envelop her. To hold her. She thought that if she closed her eyes and listened, she might hear his heart beating.
In three long strides, he closed the gap between them to mere inches. His broad, muscled chest filled her vision. His warmth pulsated against her.
"Kate."
She tried, but she couldn't bring herself to lift her gaze to his. Couldn't face the possibility she might be wrong after all. Couldn't put her heart on the line again. Gentle fingers tipped her chin up. Somber eyes met hers.
"I hurt you this morning," Jonas said, "And I'm sorry. I never meant to. I hope you know that."
She did know. She'd known it even as she eavesdropped on the conversation she’d never been meant to hear this morning. Jonas might be a mass of conflicting emotions, but cruel he was not.
His deep voice continued, quiet and rich, vibrating with promise. "All along, I think I was afraid that if I touched you, really touched you, and if we made love, I would lose myself in you forever. That scared the hell out of me, because I didn't think I could live up to the responsibility of it. When I woke up beside you today, I panicked. I convinced myself you were better off without me, and that if I could just get you out of my life, things would be normal again. The phone call to Val was to prove to myself that was possible."
"And did it?"
"No. It just proved what an ass I am." Strong fingers swept back a lock of hair from her forehead, sending a tingle through her. Jonas’s voice dropped a note deeper, rough and uneven. "Can you ever forgive me?"
"Maybe." Kate hardly recognized the husky murmur as her own. "On two conditions."
"Name them." Jonas’s fingers tangled in her curls, tugging her head inexorably back, inch by exquisite inch. Kate's gaze lifted from the pulse in his throat to the stubborn chin, lingered on the fullness of his bottom lip, then met glittering blue eyes dark with need. Bright with promise.
"Cancel Saturday night," she said.
"Already done. I called Valerie back as soon as you left."
"And stop trying to be responsible for everyone else's life. Especially mine. If I stay, it's my choice. My decision."
"Your problem, not mine?"
"Exactly."
"I think I can live with that." His mouth hovered a fraction above hers, his breath caressing her lips. "Tell me, though—would you consider it undue influence if I told you I loved you?"
Kate went very still. She stared into velvet eyes, and felt rather than saw him smile. His lips brushed hers once, twice.
"That depends on what you're trying to influence, I suppose," she whispered. Shocking need quivered through her as Jonas’s free hand slid down her spine, curved over her hip, drew her into him.
"Your decision to stay or not. How long you'll stay."
Another kiss, longer this time, made a sensual demand on her very center. The world drifted away from her feet, and for a long moment of utter bliss, Jonas’s hard, muscled length became her only reality.
He pulled back slowly, then rested his forehead against hers. "Forever,” he said. “That’s how long I want you to stay. I love you, Kate Dexter."
Kate smiled with a quiet warmth that started somewhere near her toes, reveling in the sheer nearness of the man holding her. "Consider me influenced,” she replied. “Because I love you, too."