by Ophelia Bell
“No. Disappointed is not the word I’d use.” Her gaze roams my face, lingering for only a second on my fading bruises. Then she does a slow perusal of me from head to toe. “You clean up quite nice, Mr. Black. I didn’t recognize you at first.”
Nina clears her throat and we both tear our eyes away from each other to the other two, who are grinning at us like we are the night’s entertainment instead of the band.
“Have a seat,” Nina says, waving at the two unoccupied barstools. “So are you two on the money side or the government side of the senator’s guest list?”
Booth and I share a look and I nod to him. I’ll let him field this one, since he’s more or less in charge and I’m not sure how he wants to play this in social settings.
“Definitely not the money side,” he says. “We’re government employees.”
“Oh? What department?” Nina asks, and both women stare at us harder. Nina’s eyes narrow on Booth, then she gives me a once-over. “You two are not staffers. I’m guessing Defense or Homeland Security. Maybe Justice. Am I warm? I should warn you that this is not the party where claiming you’re an FBI agent is going to work as a pick-up line. Been there, done that.”
Booth grins and lets out a laugh, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Now it’s my turn to be entertained watching him spar with Nina, who is smart as a whip.
My attention gravitates back to Callie, who seems content to observe, a gorgeous smile on her face the entire time. I didn’t have a chance to really look at her during any of our three original encounters. Now that I have nowhere else to be, I can finally take her in, and Christ is she gorgeous. Her blonde hair is loose in shining waves around her bare shoulders, and she wears only enough makeup to accent her already stunning features, including the slightest shimmer of gloss on her perfect mouth.
When she catches me looking, her cheeks turn pink again and she takes a sip of her drink to cover up how flustered she seems to be. I lean in and say, “You clean up pretty damn nice too, Doc. But for the record, you’re gorgeous in scrubs.”
“Thank you. That is very sweet.”
“So this was the party you were trying to invite me to, huh?”
She glances around the big ballroom, her eyes shining enough to make it clear how much she loves this event. “Yep, this is it. I’d have tried harder to sell it, but we’d just met and I didn’t want to be pushy. I just figured you were letting me down easy.”
“Booth didn’t exactly make our plans clear, so I didn’t find out until I landed what the timeline was. But I guess I’m here for a few more days. Another week, at most. When do you head back to LA?”
“My flight leaves Monday night. And I promise, your aunt will be at the top of my list to check in on when I get back to work.”
“Just so you know, I’d have said yes to your invitation in a heartbeat if I’d known I would be staying longer. And I had every intention of finding you in LA if you wanted to be found.”
“I’d have liked that,” she says. “I did find your note, by the way.” She twists her champagne glass on the table, her gaze slipping from my eyes to my mouth, then back.
The elephant in the room is trumpeting at us both, and I can tell she isn’t any more oblivious to the memory of our mile-high adventure than I am. I lift an eyebrow at her, amused by yet another round of blushing, but she holds my gaze, only glancing once at her friend, who seems too engrossed in conversation with Booth to notice.
“The right offer is hard to turn down,” I say in a low voice. “You didn’t even need to ask for the other thing you wanted that night. I hope your disappearance after the fact wasn’t because of something I did.”
She flinches, then bites her lower lip. “I’m sorry about that. I was a coward. I guess I got overwhelmed by what happened, how reckless it was. I’m a doctor, so I should be smarter, you know? And I barely know you. I mean, we’d just met a few hours earlier.”
“So you regretted it,” I say, not sure I like the twinge of disappointment, both at her apparent misgivings and the fact that she still doesn’t remember our first real meeting.
“Yes and no,” she says with a faint grimace, then closes her eyes and sighs. “No, that isn’t fair. I don’t regret what we did. It was foolish not to use protection, yes. But the only real regret I have is that I chickened out and didn’t face you afterward. I’m sorry. But wow . . . here you are, right? Is that fate or what?” She waves a hand down my body and grins.
“Not sure I believe in fate, but here you are, so maybe I need to rethink that whole concept.” Her smile is so infectious I grin back. At that moment, the band kicks into a slow song and I hold out my hand. “Dance with me.”
Her smile brightens so much I can almost feel the warmth of it, as if the sun has just reappeared from behind a cloud. This woman could help me forget my troubles so easily. Even if it’s just for a few days, it would be worth it.
She lets me lead her to the dance floor, then slips into my arms like she belongs there. We sway to the music and I hold her close, my body thrumming with awareness of the solid feel of her against me. She’s slender, but not what I’d call delicate, her strength evident in the sureness of her steps and the grip she has on me.
Her dress is backless, and she quivers the slightest amount when I rest my palm against her bare skin. In her heels, we’re face-to-face, her cheek a mere breath away from mine, and her green-apple scent fills my nose.
Christ, I need to keep myself under control. I don’t want her to regret a single second of being with me tonight, no matter where it leads, but I’m a hair’s breadth from dragging her up to my room and begging her to stay for the entire weekend.
I take a deep breath and force myself to pull back enough to look at her. Her blue eyes are bright, her lips curved in a perfect smile. God, I want to kiss her, but I decide as long as I have time, I may as well make good use of it.
She’s the one to break the silence, though. “So how far off was Nina with her guess? What do you guys actually do?”
I purse my lips, cursing silently. I’d have preferred to let Booth be the one to answer questions like this. And he did, but Callie and I were too distracted to hear. I decide part of the truth is probably best, since I have no idea what Booth has already told Callie’s friend.
“She was right. We’re both former military and now work in law enforcement.”
She narrows her eyes. “That’s a pretty broad area. Are you saying you really are FBI? I know who usually gets added to the guest list for this thing. I’ve attended every year since college. I don’t often see a lot of cops, so if you’re law enforcement, it’s one of a handful of agencies. Or is it one of those ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’ situations?” She affects a mocking basso voice and I chuckle.
“No, not like that, but I’m not sure what the protocol is for talking about what I do. I usually defer to Booth. He’s kind of like my commanding officer.”
She studies my face with faint concern. “It’s dangerous, isn’t it? Whatever you do. When I saw you in the hospital the other day, you looked really rough. Like, just-walked-in-from-a-bar-brawl rough. That wasn’t what happened to you, was it?”
“Not exactly, no. And yeah, what I do is dangerous, but I don’t think we have anything to worry about here.” As long as Zavala’s and Amador’s cabrones keep their tussles to the alleys.
“Oh, I’m not worried. I know the security staff, and they’re no slouches. If they let you in, then you belong here. But if you’re not comfortable talking about it, I’ll leave it alone.”
“I work for the DEA,” I confess out of some weird need to not be left alone. I want to tell her everything for some reason, but know I can’t. Not this soon. Under the circumstances, at this party surrounded by a bunch of other suits, it feels almost acceptable to admit, even though where I was a week ago it would’ve gotten me killed. It nearly had.
She stops moving and stares for a couple breaths before blinking. “Really?”
&
nbsp; The shift in her demeanor is subtle, but difficult to ignore. She’s tense now where she was relaxed a moment ago. Shit, maybe my instincts were wrong this time and I managed to spook her.
“Yeah. I was undercover for a while, but just got back. Booth is my handler. I think that’s about all I can share, though.”
She nods with a small sigh. “That makes sense. Nina’s going to flip.”
“Oh?” I ask, pulling back to look into her eyes again. “Does she have a thing for DEA agents or something?”
She lets out a rueful laugh. “No, it’s more complicated than that. How long have you worked with them? I still have acquaintances in the agency.”
“Three years, but I’ll be honest—Booth is the only one I really know. I went through him for everything.” It was him and Flores, but she doesn’t need to know that. It’s bad enough she probably already guessed that my family’s linked to Flores, so I don’t want to paint a whole picture of the old man’s ties to the government too.
“Were you undercover the whole time?”
“Most of it, yeah. So needless to say, this is a bit of culture shock.” I tilt my chin at the crowd of rich people in fancy clothes, at the famous band performing on stage, then look down at her. I can see the question in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask.
The next thing I know, her lips are on mine, the kiss sweet and tender, but way too short. It’s my turn to be stunned, but the slow song ends and something fast and rhythmic begins.
Before I have a chance to react, Callie grins and pulls back, still gripping my hands as she sways her hips faster, moving her feet in the familiar steps of a swing dance. The skirt of her dress parts at the side, revealing a sexy slit up one thigh. It’s a dress made for dancing, which is something I’m more than happy to do with the right partner.
I take over, pulling her into my body and then swinging her back out, the pair of us spinning and dancing like a pair of ballroom masters. The rest of the crowd seems to follow suit, but I’m lost in her, only half-aware of the other dancers who surround us.
She grins at me the entire time, our fingers locked together when we’re close, our rhythm in perfect sync. It feels good to move this way, even though it reminds me of how reluctant I was to let Mom teach me these dance steps when I was a kid. I thought dancing was for girls back then and hadn’t yet figured out how fun it could be when you have a skilled partner.
The song ends and we walk back to the table, breathless. I’m exhilarated, but a little too hot in my tuxedo jacket, so I shed it and hang it on the back of my chair, then roll up my sleeves. I can’t help but laugh and take a small bow at the whoops and applause that Nina and Booth send our way.
“Nice moves,” Nina says, nodding appraisingly at us both. “You two were perfect out there. Wow, Callie! I forgot how good you were at that!”
She shrugs. “I guess it’s like riding a bike; you never really forget the steps. But having the right partner is what makes it work. Where did you learn to dance?” She reaches out and squeezes my arm.
The answer is on the tip of my tongue, along with all my other secrets. I don’t think I’ve ever had such a strong urge to confess every single thing to a person I’ve barely known for a day.
But I stop myself and shrug. “Had a lot of downtime in the Navy,” I say rather than tell her my mom taught me. I don’t know how much she’s learned about Marcella Santos, but I can’t risk her putting those pieces together. Not yet.
She rewards me with a shining smile, stroking fingers lightly across my arm. Her head tilts and she looks down, her gaze catching on the upraised skin beneath her fingers. Her smile falters as she turns my arm over for a better view. I glance down and wince at the fresh tattoo of Zoe’s name, realizing what it looks like. “It isn’t what you’re thinking.”
“It’s okay. You don’t owe me an explanation for anything.”
“Maybe not, but you deserve one.” I’m not that guy, I want to say. I’m not the guy she wasted years on only to find out he was fucking around on her. But I can’t bring myself to divulge the truth.
She stares at me expectantly while I sputter for an answer I can live with that won’t leave her wondering whether she can even trust me.
“Believe me, he’s single,” Booth finally says, and I’m only half-grateful for his intervention.
“Then tell us who Zoe is,” Nina says, lifting her glass and tilting it at my arm before taking a drink. Despite the casual tone, she pins me with a challenging stare. It’s understandable that she’d be protective of her best friend if she knew anything about the cheating ex.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “It’s complicated. She’s just someone special to me. Not in the way you’re thinking, but I can’t really talk about it.”
Nina leans forward as if she’s about to strike, but Callie puts a hand on her shoulder. “Nina, it’s fine. I don’t need to know his secrets. If I was worried about taking risks, I’d have stayed home tonight.” She looks at me, her expression enigmatic, but thoughtful. “Just call this a calculated risk. The kind my instincts suggest will pay off.”
Nina huffs. “That had better be your dog’s name or something, because if it belongs to a woman you aren’t related to, first, you’re a douche, and second, you have really lousy judgment.”
Callie’s still studying me closely, and for the first time I have an inkling of how brilliant she must be. “You’re not fucking with me, are you?”
“On my mother’s life, I swear I’m not.” My voice catches, because I’m suddenly very invested in having her believe me without having to tell her the truth. At least not yet.
“Good. Because if you’re lying to me, I’ll never speak to you again. Now let’s dance.”
17
Callie
Despite Nina’s skepticism about Mason’s tattoo, I’m not willing to cut our night short. I have no illusions that spending time with him will be anything more than a night of fun, so whatever secrets he’s keeping don’t really factor in. But I remember his earnest worry over Marcella Santos, and his sympathy when I mentioned my breakup. He was far more emotionally invested than Barnaby ever was, even though he barely knew me. Besides, I was the one who threw myself at him, who took the risk. And he met me halfway without asking for more.
We wear ourselves out dancing, and in between dances, we keep to safer topics, like gossiping about the other guests, many of whom I’ve met. I deliberately avoid mentioning that my mother is hosting the party. Half the guests already know who I am, and any who aren’t aware always wind up treating me differently when they find out. I don’t want Mason backing away because he sees some nonexistent risk in getting close.
During our second slow dance, he’s quiet, yet holds me a little tighter than before. His shoulders are tense, and I want to ask what’s wrong, but don’t want it to sound like I’m prying. He was just working undercover for the DEA, which is a complicated enough situation as it is. Maybe Zoe’s a woman he loved who died? If that’s the case, it would be cruel of me to dig deeper.
Either way, I believe him. I sense that he lives by a code of honor that many men don’t even consider. More than that, deep down I really want all that to be true, and I’m willing to take the risk that it isn’t.
His hands tighten at my waist and I ease into him, a little in awe of how perfectly we fit together when we dance. I can’t help sighing and sliding my arms around his neck as I bring my cheek to rest on his shoulder.
A rumble rises through his chest, part laugh, part noise of concern, and his lips brush my ear. “You should probably put some distance between us, Doc. You deserve more than another asshole who keeps secrets from you.”
I lean back so I can see his face and give him a wry smile. “Maybe you’re not the only one with secrets. Did you ever think of that?”
His eyebrows lift as he assesses me. “No shit, you have secrets? Maybe we’ll have to do a little show and tell later. I bet mine are bigger than yours.”
I shrug.
“Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. You haven’t known me that long.”
“Long enough to want to know more,” he says, his expression sobering. He holds my gaze and heat ignites in my belly. I’m pretty sure I’d tell this man all my secrets if he asked. I just hope he’d be willing to do the same.
We return to our table amid a flurry of excitement as the band announces it’s five minutes to midnight. The staff makes rounds with fresh glasses of champagne.
“Got to hit the head real quick so I don’t miss the countdown,” Mason says, giving me a light peck on the cheek before disappearing through the crowd. Wyatt excuses himself a moment later, leaving Nina and me alone to hold our table. She immediately plops down in the seat beside me, cheeks pink from booze and dancing.
“Best party ever, don’t you think? Seriously, Cal, it’s like this guy was sent from the fucking gods. He’s almost too perfect. Is that possible?”
“Are you sure you’re not just desperate?” I ask, casting an amused look her way as I keep an eye out for a waiter to wave them over with drinks for the four of us.
“Pretty sure. You know me—oversexed is my middle name.”
I snag our drinks, then focus fully on her. “Have you told him about Chris? There’s a chance they knew each other.”
“Is that stopping you?” she asks, a challenging edge to her tone, but I don’t miss the shadow that crosses her features.
“Aside from the DEA connection, Mason’s nothing like Chris, in case that wasn’t obvious. Wyatt . . . well, I get the feeling he enjoys wearing suits as much as Chris did.”
I don’t point out how alike in appearance Wyatt is to my brother, at least as far as basic features go. Chris was a tall, well-built blond man who loved keeping a clean-cut look. Wyatt is the same, although Wyatt seems keenly interested in my friend whereas Chris only ever saw Nina as an extension of me. As much as I loved my brother, he’d have broken Nina’s heart if they ever got close.
