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“No,” he answered finally. “A Simon would be nothing less than a superspy.”

“In tights.” She tried to hide a smile but again failed.

“Definitely not tights. Maybe a military camouflage kind of deal, but no tights.”

“Okay. Green camouflage.” She paused. “What’s your superpower?”

“Seduction,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Really.” Mouth suddenly dry, Morgan took a sip from her mug of beer. “And how many missions have you been involved in?”

“That, Miss Campbell, is privileged information. I could tell you. But then I’d have to—”

“Kill me. I know.”

His smile reached a whole new level of yumminess. “Killing you isn’t exactly what I have in mind.”

Was he flirting with her?

Was she flirting back?

“Morgan?” A woman’s voice cut shut those thoughts down.

The shot of adrenaline inside her sputtered and died as quickly as the smile on her face. Her stomach clenched, suddenly filled with dread, and for a moment, Morgan thought she was going to be sick. Sweat broke out along her forehead, and she shook her head, hating how she felt but helpless to prevent it.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Morgan glanced up and found her voice. “Martha. I…I didn’t know you were in town.” Soft brown eyes stared back at her, peeking out from beneath hair still a gorgeous shade of silver. Though there were a few more wrinkles across her forehead and mouth, the woman looking down at her appeared no different from the last time Morgan had seen her.

“We’re back for Easter.”

Panic. Dread. Fear. It was all there inside her. Morgan wasn’t sure how long it took, but the question she needed to ask finally found its way out.

“Is Nathan with you?”

Martha regarded her in silence, and then she nodded.

“He’s here? At the fire hall?”

Martha looked pained, and maybe if Morgan’s panic wasn’t so high, she could appreciate the woman’s sympathy. “He’s coming in a bit. With some of your…” Martha stumbled over her words and then whispered, “With some of your old gang. Christy’s back as well.” A pause. “I’m sorry.”

Morgan’s throat closed up, and her gaze swung wildly, darting over the crowd on the dance floor. Where the hell was Hank?

“Hey, are you all right?” Cooper’s gentle question was nearly her undoing.

She couldn’t answer. Hell, she could barely breathe.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

Morgan didn’t think. Her survival instincts kicked in, and she got to her feet. No way could she face Nathan. Or Christy. Not now. Maybe not ever.

“Please,” she whispered, a little unsteady on her feet as she stepped past Martha and uttered a soft good-bye.

Cooper didn’t ask any questions and for that she was grateful. He tucked her into his side, and together they left the fire hall. She’d left her jacket behind, but Cooper draped his over her shoulders.

Morgan’s teeth were chattering, and the ride home was a silent one, save for the sad strains of some country song, and even that ended when Cooper pulled into her driveway. She hopped out of his truck as soon as it stopped.

“Thank you,” she managed to say before turning back to close the door.

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