Page 102 of Perfect Vengeance

“Thank you.” When he accepted the gift, their fingers touched and awareness sparked up his arm. He set the box on the credenza.

“You really should open it.” She twisted her hands together, biting her lip again.

“Don’t you want me to wait until Christmas?”

“No.” She shook her head. “You’d better open it now.”

“Okay.” He tugged open the bow and shimmied off the cover.

“Do you like it?” she asked softly.

Jack’s heart was so far up in his throat he could taste it. Nestled in the scooped-out center of the box was a plastic bag containing water. And a clownfish.

“It’s a male. At least I think it is. That’s what they told me at the store.” When he still couldn’t speak, she added quickly, “Do you like him?”

Like him? To his shock, the backs of his eyes burned. “How did you know?” He’d never actually told her JW had died.

“When I called Kyle and Deke, I told them everything. I said I needed a grand gesture. They told me about John Wayne. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.” He lifted the lid off the tank and gently set the bag in the water to acclimate the fish before releasing it into its new environment. This was, without a shadow of a doubt, the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given him.

When he turned around, tears shimmered in her eyes. Unable to wait a moment longer, he swallowed. Hard, so he could get the words out. “Why are you here, Gina?”

“For so many reasons.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and he resisted the urge to wipe it away with his thumb or kiss it away with his lips. “To apologize for all the cruel things I said to you.” She twisted her hands together. “It was such a shock to find out…”

“The role I played in your father’s death,” he finished for her, knowing how hard it would be for her to say it. “If there’d been another way to tell you, trust me I would have.”

“I know.” She nodded. “At least, I know it now. I needed time to process everything. To understand why he did what he did, and why you did what you did.”

“And do you understand now?” Even if they could only be friends from this point forward, her understanding would mean more to him than she could possibly know. Not that he’d ever truly be able to forgive himself, but her understanding would be a close second.

“Yes.” Again she nodded, more emphatically this time. “My father put himself in that position. You didn’t pull the trigger. Franco did. And I want to thank you for arresting him.”

“It was my pleasure.” It truly had been. Now they’d both gotten justice. For Jim Spencer and Tony Perotti. “You didn’t have to bring me a gift or tell me all that in person. You could have called.”

“No.” She shook her head in a tight, jerky motion and looked away. “There are certain other things that should only be said in person.”

“What other things?” he said softly. As much as he wanted to be near her, it was torture to be so close yet so far. The things he wanted to hear cross her lips—the things he’d dreamed of hearing her say for the last four weeks—were just that. Nothing but a dream. One that would never come true.

She locked gazes with him and took a deep breath. “Things like, I love you.”

“What?” Warm tentacles surrounded his broken heart, fluttering in the vicinity but not quite touching it. He must have misheard her.

“You heard me.” She rested her hand on his cheek and looked up at him, the same way she had in his dream. “I love you. I hope you still love me. Did you mean it when you said it? Because if you didn’t, I’ll be really embarrassed. I’ll⁠—”

He reached for her arm and tugged her to his chest. Those warm tentacles flitting around his heart latched on and didn’t let go. “You’ll what?” When she opened her mouth to answer him, he kissed her, soundly, deeply, and with every ounce of love he could put into it. “I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” As she clutched at his back, he deepened the kiss, tasting her very soul intertwining with his.

To say he loved this woman was an understatement. He was hers, body and soul. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Grinning, he slipped the coat off her shoulders and tossed it on a chair. “You know, I’ve never made love on my desk before.”

Her eyes flared wide. “In an FBI office? We can’t.”

“We can.” Chuckling, he began popping open the buttons of her blouse.

“What if someone comes in?” There was no mistaking the panic in her voice.

For the next twenty seconds, he kissed her before coming up for air. “They won’t.”