Page 57 of Dead Drift

The two disappeared before Luke could blink.

“Being a crisis counselor makes her a fabulous interrogator,” Kate said, opening the bag of food, the smell of freshly baked bread swirling through the office.

“I imagine that skill set would be a strong asset.” Though the Bureau’s idea of interrogation and his experience with interrogation in the field were probably quite different.

With Tanner, he imagined the questions and approach were coming from a place of help and befriendment, whereas he went straight for the jugular. Then again, the men he was dealing with and the chaos of the crisis he was typically involved in during an interrogation didn’t allow time to establish actions of perceived befriendment.

However, he was on U.S. soil now, working as a liaison with the Bureau, so he’d abide by their rules, and truth be told, he might prefer their rules now. Interrogation had never been his thing. He much preferred intervention over interrogation.

Kate pulled out a thick sandwich wrapped in white paper and handed it to him. “From Pitango’s,” she said.

“Thanks. I didn’t realize Pitango’s has sandwiches now.” It’d always been a gelato specialty shop where he and Kate would get affogatos, chocolate gelato with espresso poured over it, for late-night study sessions. They’d get their fuel, sit on one of the benches lining the brick sidewalk in Fells Point, and study under the streetlamps. Then they’d walk along the water before making the drive back to campus. It had been a nice break from the monotony of studying.

Having grown up along the water, he wanted to be near it, on it, in it as much as possible and had returned to his Chesapeake Harbor home with Kate every weekend they could throughout college. His mom had insisted he not only sleep in a separate room from Kate, which he’d absolutely have done on his own, but she’d gone one step further, making him sleep on an entirely separate floor—most often on the couch in his dad’s den.

He had been glad to learn via Mack that when his parents retired to Florida—he’d never thought he’d see that day—his brother and wife had moved into the family home.

He wondered what it looked like now, how it’d changed over the years or, even more so, how it had remained the same. Did the floorboards still creak and the upper-right windowpane slide sideways for a bigger view of the harbor outside what had once been his bedroom?

“You still with me?” Kate asked at his prolonged silence.

He blinked out of memory lane. “Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.”

“About?”

Our life together that I was foolish enough to destroy. “Everything.”

She let out a throaty laugh. “No wonder it looks like smoke’s about to come shooting out of your ears.”

“Ha! I haven’t heard that one in a while.”

Kate shrugged. “My mom’s still got a thing for those old-fashioned sayings—itchy nose means someone is thinking about you, burning ears if someone’s talking about you, though ‘a penny for your thoughts’ is still her favorite.”

He set down his roast beef, gouda, and horseradish sandwich and moved to her side—captivated by her presence and thrilled they had some time to themselves. “I remember,” he said, his voice low.

Her expression shifted, the playfulness changing to a look of wariness.

He took hold of her hand, holding her palm against his cheek, her touch surging a pulsating current through him. “I remember it all. The way your silky hair falls through my fingers.” He ran his free hand through her golden hair. It was the first time she’d worn it down in days, and while he liked her trademark ponytail, he loved her hair falling free across her shoulders.

He inched closer still, his voice deepening. “The scent of your shea butter lotion and the way it makes your skin so supple.” He trailed his fingers along the underside of her left arm. He exhaled, trying to steady himself and his racing heart. “The way your lips feel against mine,” he whispered hoarsely and, braving another slap, he cupped her face and lowered his lips to hers.

Tentative at first, she finally melted into the kiss, sliding her hands up the back of his neck and into his hair. Releasing a guttural moan of pleasure, he moved his arms around her waist and pulled her tighter against him, their kiss growing heady, powerful, reconnecting them body and soul.

“Oh!” A female squeak came from the doorway. “I’m so sorry.” One of Declan’s fellow agents quickly retreated and closed the door behind her.

Kate instantly broke the kiss and stepped back, raking a hand through her tousled hair.

Her lips were full and rosy, the mark of his kiss evident upon them. He moved to pull her back into his embrace.

She held up her hand. “This is a bad idea.”

He heard her words, but her eyes said something far different. “What happened to the audacious, dive-in-headfirst girl I knew?” he said teasingly.

“You crushed her heart.”

His heart hammered in his throat, all playfulness vanquished. “I know.” He swallowed. “Don’t let my idiotic choice change you from the free spirit I knew into someone who is guarded. Even if you never forgive me—which I understand is a strong possibility—please don’t lose that part of you.” It was heartbreaking to see that shift in her and to know he was the cause of it.

She linked her arms across her chest. “Your leaving taught me how to protect myself.”