“Is that Croatian?”
“Yeah,” he said.
He answered her, and whatever he said, she found it amusing.
“How about English?” As much as I liked hearing him speak other languages, I didn’t want to be left out of the conversation.
“She told me you’re very pretty.”
I chuckled. “You know I can tell you’re lying, even when it’s in other languages.”
Natalie glanced at her brother to deliver an epic grin. “Oh, I like her.”
I sat in the queen-sized bed of the guest room, his mother’s beautiful handmade quilt gathered around me, and I glared at the morning light pouring in through the open blinds.
Apparently, the spy’s parents were conservative and rather strict about our sleeping arrangements, and I was sure Ethan was serious when he’d told me to get my stuff together because we were going to a hotel.
That hadn’t gone over so well with Randall and Hana Foster.
In fact, after I’d talked Ethan into staying, he’d lingered in my room last night and a floorboard creaked, revealing his dad’s position outside the door.
“I am thirty-five goddamn years old,” Ethan had declared loudly.
“Don’t say goddamn in my goddamn house,” Randall had answered back.
We’d had dinner with the entire family last night, including Natalie’s adorable and rambunctious children who talked non-stop through the meal. When it was over, Hana set them loose in the basement and we adults finished our wine in the sunroom overlooking the Ohio River that snaked below. In the distance, a blue iron bridge crossed the river, twinkling inChristmas colors.
Ethan gave his family an extremely edited version of the events. They knew he was CIA and worked in Europe, and little else. They hardly ever saw him, and their support of his work was impressive. He’d sacrificed his personal life for the job, and they had sacrificed right along with him.
He hadn’t been home for Christmas in at least five years, and I wondered if that was why his mother had gone all out with the decorations. But maybe the enormous tree and the glittering garland that hung from every banister was typical for the Fosters.
This morning, I allowed myself a moment of selfishness and regretted not going to the hotel. It had been a millennium since I’d truly been with him, and every inch of me craved that. I missed his touch. I missed everything about him, and I knew if I called for him, he’d do everything he could to get to me.
Did he know the same was true of me? If he called for me, I’d come running.
Then, without calling for him, the door to the guest room burst open and Ethan flew in, determination fixed in his intense eyes.
“This is unacceptable. Get dressed, we’re going out.”
No hello, or good morning . . . nothing.
These were orders from him, and I made sure my displeasure was clear. His expression adjusted and filled with need.
“I’m sorry I didn’t knock,” he said. “Good morning. Please, for the love of God, put on some clothes so I can take you somewhere where I can take those clothes back off.”
Yes.I scrambled out of bed, just as eager as he was, but he gave a sudden noise of satisfaction that made me pause. His gaze was on the oversized white undershirt I was wearing.
Hisshirt.
My voice was tight. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?” he said. “I thought you liked the way I look at you.”
I reached for the pair of jeans I’d discarded last night on a chair. “I do, but not when you’re being all smug about it, like you’ve just won some battle.”
“Get used to it.” His smile was infuriating and sexy. “You think you’re not in love with me? I’ll be accepting your surrender by lunchtime.”
44
