"Shrike really isn't my thing. It's not even Nick's thing. We assist because we've heard it one too many times, and it's affected our missions. But Parker and Hoyt are really into it," Sterling said. "I take their calls. I answer their questions. I know Shrike's the real deal and I'd be more than happy to help take it down." He stared at his cell. "I don't like coincidences, and Mark getting a call about Shrike on the same day he died makes me twitch."
"I didn't like it. I know Nick didn't, either, but he's always tried to protect me. He knows I'm a capable agent but says I'm too close."
"You are, but since when has that stopped anyone?"
"That's true." She reached for the glass and put away the remainder in one swallow. "How many times have you worked with Doyle?" she asked. "And do you know how many times Nick has?"
Sterling laughed. "Me? As little as humanly possible, but maybe fifteen times. Nick would be about the same." He set his glass down and stood. "Mind making room for me? The edge of the chair isn't comfortable, and I don't want to sit alone."
"That's about the most pathetic pass a man could ever make toward a woman."
"Guilty as charged."
She slid forward as he folded himself into the chair behind her, a leg down either side. Drawing her back against his chest, he crossed his arms over her middle. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder as if they'd sat like this every night and watched the moon settle over the water.
"I need you to think hard about something," he said, his mouth near her ear. "Let me read my team in on your identity. We can't run this two-handed, and I'm not about to leave you running it alone, either. There are too many things going on and we have no clear idea what we're dealing with. Does it have to do with me? You? Mark? Or all of us? We’ll start by calling Nick in the morning."
He pressed his mouth to the top of her shoulder, then the side of her neck, and every thread of the conversation unraveled in her head.
"I'm done talking tonight," he said against her skin. He kissed the same spot again. "I know how this goes. You close ajob, and you leave Calusa Cove." His arms tightened around her. "Doesn't change how I feel about you."
Up until three years ago, she'd always felt confident in who she was and what she wanted. She'd never needed a man to complete her. Still didn't. Mark hadn't changed that. He did, however, show her that she'd built massive walls meant to protect herself. Only, she'd hidden behind them. Used them to keep people at bay and to keep her from bleeding real emotions.
He’d torn through those in seconds.
It had been a lonely existence after he died. Then she rolled into Calusa Cove, and everything flipped.
The town, the people, they embraced her with open arms.
But Sterling? He did more than that. He showed up time and time again. He listened. He cared. And he was just always there ready to catch her if she fell. She didn't need him to declare anything to know that. She was more than relieved he knew the truth. She was free. At least with him and somehow that's all that mattered.
She turned in his arms. "Here's the thing." She traced the side of his jaw. "I'm not sure I want to leave. And you're definitely the reason why."
Chapter Fourteen
Sterling was good with words when they were tools. Right now, with what she'd just told him, words were useless. So, he put his mouth to better use and kissed her.
Her tongue glided across his lips, split them apart, and then twisted around his. His pulse lodged in his throat as if he were a teenage boy. Fisting his shirt with one hand, she inched the other one under the fabric, splaying her fingers across his back.
He'd wanted this since the first time he'd walked into this pub on a Friday afternoon and met Juniper. He knew it was a Friday because the special had been "the Friday mahi sandwich caught fresh by Tate Charters."
Sterling had eaten it, but he had no idea if it was any good or not because all he'd done was stare at Juniper. He also remembered every single dumb thing he’d said to her that day.
He’d gone back the next afternoon with a million conversations in his head, all of which were meant to dazzle her. He'd ordered the grouper and continued to fumble his words. This went on for at least two months before he managed to speak coherently around the woman of his affection.
Now, he hoped he wouldn't make an ass out of himself in other ways.
"You sure know how to kiss," she whispered.
"I think it's the person I'm kissing that matters." Christ, that had to be the cheesiest thing he'd ever said. But since she was suddenly in his lap, she didn't seem to mind.
It had been a long time since he'd been with a woman. Long enough that the number would've embarrassed a man who dared to keep track of those kinds of things.
But that wasn't what had him off his game—not that he'd ever actually had game.
With every woman before her, he'd left a piece of himself out in the hall. He'd kept part of his mind focused on the exits, ready to be out the door the second it was over. He'd never actually been all the way in the room.
But he was all the way in this one, and it had nothing to do with owing the four walls surrounding them. It wouldn't matter where they were, he loved her. And that was the part that scared him, because he wasn't sure what he'd do if she were to walk out and never come back.
