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She’d wanted him to see her as a grown woman, and there’d been no shortage of cute guys at the party to flirt with. She’d done her best to make sure that Jason knew she could have any one of them. But he’d apparently been less than impressed. When he’d taken off without uttering a single word to her, she’d felt sixteen years old all over again. After he was gone, the party had been over for her.
That had been seven years ago. While she was definitely over Jason Cooper, she had no desire to have him drop in unexpectedly while she was visiting her father. As a result, she rarely visited, preferring to have her dad come out and stay with her in Virginia. Because he had friends in Washington, he usually conceded to her requests, but she knew she couldn’t continue to expect him to travel across the country every time he wanted to see her.
Hefting her carry bag over her shoulder, she took the elevator to the first floor of the building and made her way across the spacious lobby, the heels of her shoes echoing on the polished marble. The first floor was only moderately busy at this time of day, with a few stragglers returning from lunch, laughing and shaking moisture from their hair and shoulders as they entered the building. Through the glass doors that led to the street, Caroline saw it had begun to rain. Pausing, she slid her bag around to where she could unzip the outer compartment and pulled out her umbrella.
When she looked up again, two men were pushing through the rotating doors. Caroline’s breath caught, and her feet remained glued to the floor.
The first man wore khaki fatigues, a dark blue polo shirt and a matching baseball cap. He had the distinctive bearing of a law enforcement officer. If the weapon in his hip holster didn’t grab your attention, the U.S. Marshals logo emblazoned on the breast of his shirt did.
But it was the second man who caused Caroline’s heart to skip a beat and almost stutter to a stop before exploding into frenzied overdrive.
Jason Cooper.
He wore a black sports jacket and shirt, paired with well-worn blue jeans and boots. He had an easy, loose-limbed stride that Caroline would have recognized anywhere. As he made his way across the lobby toward her, she caught a glimpse of the badge he wore on his belt—the silver star of a U.S. marshal.
The years had done nothing to diminish his good looks or the vague aura of danger that clung to him. He was bigger than she remembered, having lost the lean gauntness of his youth. Beneath the jacket, she could see his shoulders and chest were thick with muscle. He looked as if he kicked ass for a living.
His dark hair was cut short, and his skin was burnished from the sun. But it was his eyes that held her riveted. They still reminded her of tempered glass, and right now they were fixed on her with unsettling intensity. His square jaw was set in grim lines. As he met her gaze, frissons of dread fingered their way along her spine.
Raising her chin, she looked directly at Jason and forced herself to speak with a calm that she was far from feeling. Her fingers closed convulsively around the umbrella in her hands. “Marshal Cooper. You’re a long way from home.”
Caroline tried to quell the erratic rhythm of her heart. Fear caused her stomach to roll, and for a moment she was afraid she might actually be sick. She knew there could be only one reason he had flown all the way to Virginia to seek her out at work.
“Caroline.” He indicated the officer beside him. “This is Deputy Marshal Colton Black.”
His voice hadn’t changed at all, and the sound of it, low and a little rough around the edges, brought a tidal wave of memories flooding back. It seemed some things never changed, because the quality of his voice still had the ability to make her shiver. But all those years ago, his voice had been husky with arousal and then harsh with rejection; now he was all business. He regarded her as if she were a stranger.
Two women walked past them toward the elevators, giving both Jason and his deputy appreciative smiles. Caroline recognized them from the real estate division of the law firm, and she fervently hoped they wouldn’t decide to stop and strike up a conversation to get a better look at the marshals.
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” Jason asked, eyeing the women.
She gave a jerky nod and indicated a semiprivate sitting area on the far side of the lobby. Jason took her elbow to guide her. The touch of his fingers seemed to burn through her suit jacket to the sensitive skin of her inner arm, and she had to suppress the instinctive urge to pull away. As if sensing her discomfort, he let his hand drop, indicating she should precede him toward the cozy arrangement of upholstered chairs and sofas. His deputy moved to the far side of the lobby and directed his gaze through the windows to where the rain sleeted against the glass. For the first time in years, Caroline found herself alone with Jason.
