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She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing in the rich aroma.
Damen watched her for several moments, riveted. And…anchored. To her. To this moment. Fleeting though it was. Fleeting though the rest of his time with her would be.
Eventually, he tore himself away, showered, changed into a pair of loose black drawstring pants and situated himself in front of the fireplace in the sitting room of his master suite. He sipped brandy and contemplated exactly what morning would bring with it. No doubt the exit of Dr. Nikki Kane.
There was no reason for her to stay—unless she felt the need for Damen’s protection.
But hadn’t he conceded earlier that she likely didn’t need him for anything, including protection?
The terrorists weren’t tracking her. They knew who had their intel.
The only recourse they had at this point would be to kidnap Nikki and hold her for ransom in an attempt to get their data back. But…one, it was too late for that. The data was already being dissected. And two, Damen intended to have Nikki covered by a small team of agents. Discreetly, so that she wouldn’t even know she was being followed, so that she wouldn’t know she essentially had bodyguards as she traveled, he assumed, to Switzerland.
He had no choice but to let her go.
For so many reasons.
Because his mission had to continue, without her.
Because she was devastated over the fate of her laptop.
Because…this was one instance when love was not going to conquer all.
And just as he was sinking deeper into his melancholy and heartache, he heard her soft, sultry voice in his ear.
“Damen—”
40
Nikki rounded the sofa and sank into the corner, a couple of feet from where Damen was also settled, with his laptop opened on the coffee table before him, several file folders spread out on the surface and a snifter of brandy in his hand.
Which he promptly offered to her.
She snickered. “You think the tequila has had time to wear off?”
“I’m not privy to how many shots you had.”
“Sadly, I lost count.”
“Well,” he said with a low chuckle. “I’m glad you had a respite—you deserved an intermission.” He sipped his drink.
Nikki said, “I agree. I was losing it completely. Still might be, I fear.” She did a quick mind search in hopes of wrangling all of her scattered thoughts. No luck there. She gave a slight shake of her head and said, “Seems I remain a little unstable at present.”
“But you relaxed with Garcia and her family. That’s good.”
“Absolutely. They were wonderful, Damen. I felt perfectly protected—and am clearly well-fed.” She laughed quietly. “Not to mention, I fully imbibed.”
“It was fully warranted.”
She sighed now as guilt and remorse slithered through her.
She said, “I apologize for the scene I made at the ops center. I hit a wall. Emotionally. Physically. Certainly in a gastric capacity. I couldn’t take anymore, Damen. I needed a break. Some levity. Some food. And, eventually…some sleep.”
“Nik.” He groaned. Then he dragged a hand down his face as though he were wholly unsure of what he was to say next.
He took a deeper drink from his snifter, then set it aside.
Finally, he turned back to her, shifting on the sofa so he faced her, stretching his arm along the top.
