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“Maybe not, but it was less exciting than it became after I met you.”
“After last night, I’m glad to hear it. I’d be insulted otherwise.” She covered my hand with hers.
The reference to our one and only night together flooded me with heat. I wanted to turn my hand and lace my fingers with hers, but I couldn’t do it. Some part of me wanted more from her, but it was obvious she had nothing more to give.
I pulled my hand away from her. “I let you borrow my clothes yesterday. Do you think you could return the favor?” I glanced at her sweater. Not as revealing as my white tee shirt had been on her, but it still fitted her curves. “Maybe not your clothes, specifically.”
“The team brought everything you and I had with us in the cabin. I’ll find out where they put your bag. Not that I necessarily want to see you dressed.”
There it was, a glimmer of my flirtatious doc. As much as I’d been hoping to see it, now I had to ignore it. Every minute I spent pretending I could have more time with her would make it that much worse when we said goodbye for good.
“After I call my sister and get dressed, I’ll talk to TJ and whoever else needs to sign off on sending me home.”
She touched my shoulder. “So, after you leave...”
A thrill of hope ran up my spine, but I tamped it down. We’d had our reasons for our agreement, and no matter how amazing the sex was, those reasons still held. “We agreed to a one-night stand.”
She flinched again. “It was just so… More than I expected.”
I was glad to hear it. Nice to know the crazy rush of being with her wasn’t all one-sided. “Red,” I said softly.
She leaned toward me, leaving just inches between her lips and mine. “Yes?”
I took a deep breath and blew it out, releasing the stupid fantasies I’d spun about the possibility of repeating last night. “When I tell TJ my story, I think you’d better be there to hear it.”
* * *
Samantha
An hour later,I walked to the first floor and headed for the IT office. Through the glass panes, I saw Evan on the phone, being supervised by Jensen.
I made a detour by TJ’s office. “You don’t have to treat him like a prisoner,” I said without preamble. “He did save my life.”
TJ glanced up at me, then over my shoulder at the IT room. “We’re allowing him to contact someone who might worry about him, which is more than he did for you.”
I harrumphed but didn’t argue the point. TJ had the facts straight, despite the circumstances being very different, and he was in no mood to debate nuance. I continued on my way to IT and waited outside until Jensen took back Evan’s phone and opened the door. Jensen held out his hand, and I gave him my phone as well—no personal communication devices were allowed in the classified briefing room where Evan was going to talk to TJ and me—and told us we could retrieve our phones when our meeting was over.
Evan thanked him, but there was no warmth in his voice. Why should there be? He had put his life on the line to save mine, and for his trouble, he was being treated like he was guilty until proven innocent.
“This way,” I said.
Evan fell into step beside and slightly behind me. We crossed the gym to the stairwell. “There are elevators back here,” I pointed, “but we usually take the stairs.”
“Fine by me.” He glanced up. “Four stories. What’s on the floors above us?” He caught my eye. “Or is that a secret, too?”
I ignored the sharpness of his question. “You’ve already seen the second floor, which has the medical suite and the SCIF. Third and fourth floors are suites for the HEAT team members staying here.”
“I’m guessing there are more of these buildings scattered throughout the US.”
“Yes,” I said, “for starters.” We also had HQ buildings in thirty-two other countries, but that was a classified detail I couldn’t share with him.
At the second-floor landing, he pushed open the fire door and held it for me, standing back far enough to keep distance between us. Ever the gentleman. I appreciated his manners but hated the formality. I led him to the SCIF, punched a code into the cipher lock, and pressed my thumb pad against the sensor. This time, I pulled open the door and held it for Evan.
TJ was already waiting for us, sitting at one side of the long conference table. Evan sat across from him. I stood at the head of the table and glanced between them. They both watched me, and I had the distinct impression this was a test of my loyalty, that choosing a side of the table was the equivalent of choosing a team in the battle that had been mounting since the second I’d fallen into Evan’s arms in that parking garage.
TJ pointed to the computer at the head of the table. “Bond, I loaded some slides into the secure system. Can you log on and pull those up?”
I shot him a thankful look, sure that our years of working together meant he knew I was telling him I owed him for letting me off the hook. I nodded and slid into the neutral seat, then followed his instructions. The cover sheet of the Chicago PD report with Evan’s name on it popped up on the large, flat screen on the wall at the opposite end of the table.
