ounce.
The good news was that she was as rattled as he was by the sudden, nearly palpable sexual energy that surrounded them.
She turned away. Stood up, moving to look out of the window.
Rattled and vulnerable.
They hadn’t so much as kissed since that night before he’d been shot, that night that he’d . . . that they’d . . .
Correction—Gina had kissed him frequently, back in the hospital, both in Florida and after he’d been moved up to D.C. But they were all “see you later” kisses. Nothing like the way they’d kissed that night.
Not that they’d had the opportunity to soul-kiss while he was hooked up to all those tubes and machines. Not with the high volume of traffic in and out of his hospital room, day and night.
Now, as he watched, she leaned her head against the windowpane. His room here—a single—was small, but the view of the surrounding countryside was nice. Nicer than that grungy back-alley dumpster that he could see from the bedroom window in his D.C. apartment.
“My brother called. Victor. Just out of the blue.” Gina glanced over her shoulder at Max. “He’s flying in this evening. He’s never been to Washington—he missed his seventh-grade class trip. Strep throat.”
“Make sure you take him to the World War Two Memorial,” Max said, glad that she’d changed the subject. He’d half expected her to go the other way. Confront. Ask,
Were you thinking about kissing me just then, because I had the sense that you really wanted to.
And then what was he supposed to say?
Honey, not a moment of the day goes by that I don’t think about kissing you . . .
Yeah, that would help.
“It’s on the list,” Gina said, finally turning to face him, sitting on the windowsill, her skirt blowing in the breeze from the air conditioner’s fan. She had to hold it down. “We’ve got a whole day of sightseeing lined up. Vietnam Wall, Holocaust Museum, Korean War, Lincoln Memorial . . .” She ticked them off on her fingers. “But I’m pretty sure the real reason he’s coming is to check up on me. I think my entire family’s a little freaked. You know, because I’m staying with Jules.”
Imagine how freaked they would have been if Max had opted for outpatient therapy, if he’d moved back into his apartment instead of coming to live here. If he’d done that, Gina would have come along to make sure he had everything he needed, and ten minutes after they were alone together, they would have been back in bed. Ten minutes after that, she would’ve been unpacking her suitcase, hanging her clothes in his closet.
Because the truth was, Max had enough will power to keep his distance from her for only a very short time. If she’d persisted and tried to turn her “stoic men make me hot” thing into more than just a joke, he would have been cooked. He had zero resistance to her. He prayed she’d never figure that out. If she did . . .
Although, okay. This place wasn’t as public as the hospital, but he still had people knocking on his door at random times of the day. She wasn’t going to jump him here. She just wasn’t.
Which was the second reason he’d chosen inpatient physical rehab.
And so, instead of moving in with Max, Gina had gone to stay with Jules Cassidy. The younger agent’s condo was relatively close to this facility. Besides, there was no way Max would’ve ever agreed to let Gina stay in his place by herself. His neighborhood wasn’t safe. Not for a young woman living alone.
He’d been burgled twice in the past ten months.
Not that he had anything worth stealing.
“I don’t think they really believe that Jules is gay,” Gina continued now, coming back toward him. “Or maybe they’re afraid I’m so irresistible, I’ll turn him straight.” She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Vic isn’t exactly Mr. Politically Correct—I don’t even think he knows anyone who’s gay. Jules and I have a bet going—I give Vic twelve hours, tops, before he makes up some excuse
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