time. He closed the distance she’d opened up, until the heat of the fireplace filled what little space remained between them. Its glow bathed her face with gold and added sparkling glints to her blond hair. Desire snaked through him, but he ignored its sibilant seduction. Wanting her wasn’t enough. It had never been enough.
Maybe that had been the problem. Wanting was easy. Visceral.
Trusting—that was the hard part.
“I can’t forget you said that.” He laid his hand on her shoulder, keeping the touch light and undemanding. But her gaze snapped up to meet his, her blue eyes darkening with arousal as if he’d caressed her.
He still had that effect on her, just as the mere sight of her made him long for her touch.
“This is a mess of my own making. You’re not part of this. I can go, and you can pretend I never darkened your door.”
“I can’t pretend that.” She looked away quickly, as if she could hide the desperation her eyes had just revealed. But it was too late. He’d seen the fear. It echoed the same desperate emotion burning in the center of his chest.
Need. Pure, unadulterated need.
He needed her. His partner. Set aside everything else—the desire, the complicated history, the perceived betrayals and the two-year separation—and the partnership remained, a connection between them that time and distance hadn’t been able to sever after all.
“You were a good agent,” he said. “A damn good one, actually. And I need my partner one more time, okay? I won’t deny it. But it’s still your choice. I’m not a good bet here. I’m in a mess and I can’t even offer you ironclad proof that I’m telling you the truth.”
She turned slowly to face him. “I believe you.”
Her simple declaration jolted through him like an electric shock. “Livvie—”
She held up her hand. “I believe you came here to protect me. That’s what I believe. But I’m going into this with my eyes open. And the second you keep secrets from me and tell me a lie, that’s it. I’ll know it. And you’ll be out there on a shaky limb all by yourself, because I’ll be going to the FBI and telling them everything I know. Including your last whereabouts.”
He couldn’t hold back a smile of relief. That was the Olivia Sharp he’d known and loved, the tough-minded, no-nonsense agent who’d watched his back and saved his ass more times than he could count.
“Fair enough,” he said, holding his hand out to her.
She looked at his outstretched fingers for a tense moment then clasped his hand in hers and gave it a firm shake. “I think we’re safe here until morning. So let’s pack up the supplies we’re going to need to hike up the mountain in half a foot of snow and then get some sleep so we can head out before daylight.”
He should have known she’d have a cabin full of survival gear and supplies. Olivia Sharp had set the standard for preparedness during her years in the FBI field office in Richmond. She already had a prepared “bug out” kit, as she called it, containing camping supplies, tools and a 72-hour supply of Meals Ready to Eat as well as changes of clothing.
She had a second backpack stored in the hall closet. Within a half hour, she’d added another three-day stock of supplies and food to that backpack, as well, filling in the blanks with clothes from his duffel bag.
“The cold will be a pain, but these hills are full of places to find shelter,” she said in a tone that was all business. He mimicked her brisk attitude as he carried the two backpacks to the front room and set them near the fire while she retrieved extra weapons for them, adding a compact Glock 19 to her Mossberg and handing over a spare pistol.
He looked at the Kimber Stainless II pistol in his palm and smiled. “You remembered.”
“It was two years ago, not two decades,” she said in a flat tone. “It’s loaded, and I put extra ammo in your kit. Now let’s try to get some sleep before morning, okay?”
She
Maybe that had been the problem. Wanting was easy. Visceral.
Trusting—that was the hard part.
“I can’t forget you said that.” He laid his hand on her shoulder, keeping the touch light and undemanding. But her gaze snapped up to meet his, her blue eyes darkening with arousal as if he’d caressed her.
He still had that effect on her, just as the mere sight of her made him long for her touch.
“This is a mess of my own making. You’re not part of this. I can go, and you can pretend I never darkened your door.”
“I can’t pretend that.” She looked away quickly, as if she could hide the desperation her eyes had just revealed. But it was too late. He’d seen the fear. It echoed the same desperate emotion burning in the center of his chest.
Need. Pure, unadulterated need.
He needed her. His partner. Set aside everything else—the desire, the complicated history, the perceived betrayals and the two-year separation—and the partnership remained, a connection between them that time and distance hadn’t been able to sever after all.
“You were a good agent,” he said. “A damn good one, actually. And I need my partner one more time, okay? I won’t deny it. But it’s still your choice. I’m not a good bet here. I’m in a mess and I can’t even offer you ironclad proof that I’m telling you the truth.”
She turned slowly to face him. “I believe you.”
Her simple declaration jolted through him like an electric shock. “Livvie—”
She held up her hand. “I believe you came here to protect me. That’s what I believe. But I’m going into this with my eyes open. And the second you keep secrets from me and tell me a lie, that’s it. I’ll know it. And you’ll be out there on a shaky limb all by yourself, because I’ll be going to the FBI and telling them everything I know. Including your last whereabouts.”
He couldn’t hold back a smile of relief. That was the Olivia Sharp he’d known and loved, the tough-minded, no-nonsense agent who’d watched his back and saved his ass more times than he could count.
“Fair enough,” he said, holding his hand out to her.
She looked at his outstretched fingers for a tense moment then clasped his hand in hers and gave it a firm shake. “I think we’re safe here until morning. So let’s pack up the supplies we’re going to need to hike up the mountain in half a foot of snow and then get some sleep so we can head out before daylight.”
He should have known she’d have a cabin full of survival gear and supplies. Olivia Sharp had set the standard for preparedness during her years in the FBI field office in Richmond. She already had a prepared “bug out” kit, as she called it, containing camping supplies, tools and a 72-hour supply of Meals Ready to Eat as well as changes of clothing.
She had a second backpack stored in the hall closet. Within a half hour, she’d added another three-day stock of supplies and food to that backpack, as well, filling in the blanks with clothes from his duffel bag.
“The cold will be a pain, but these hills are full of places to find shelter,” she said in a tone that was all business. He mimicked her brisk attitude as he carried the two backpacks to the front room and set them near the fire while she retrieved extra weapons for them, adding a compact Glock 19 to her Mossberg and handing over a spare pistol.
He looked at the Kimber Stainless II pistol in his palm and smiled. “You remembered.”
“It was two years ago, not two decades,” she said in a flat tone. “It’s loaded, and I put extra ammo in your kit. Now let’s try to get some sleep before morning, okay?”
She
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