by Abby Gordon
Thirty minutes later, Max wondered if he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere. The small town was so pastoral he half expected to see a herd of cows or sheep appear in the middle of the road. Pulling over, he cleared the directions and reentered the address. While he waited for the computer to recalibrate, he reached into the glove compartment for the pain pills he had relied on for ten years. Not needing water, he popped one in his mouth. He hoped to hell that meeting Ginny stopped these headaches because they were getting worse.
“Damn thing must be broken,” he muttered when the screen told him to take the next left followed three miles later by a right. Knowing it was pointless to hope the directions would change if he reentered it a third time, he checked the rearview mirror. “Why the hell would she be way out here?”
After making the left, he slowed his vehicle and looked around. The neighborhood looked like something out of a painting. Ginny lived here. She lived in the closest thing to paradise he’d ever dreamt of. The only way he’d been able to get it…He grunted. No, he told himself. Don’t go there.
Anger built and threatened to spill over. Clenching his jaw, he continued down the street, taking in the houses that were set back from the road and surrounded by immaculate yards with perfect children playing. The GPS beeped and flashed a red light.
Max found the address on the mailbox. Of course, he thought. She would have a perfect, shiny mailbox with the numbers 202 in black. Jeez, he shook his head, looking toward a house slightly smaller than the others along the road. White picket fence and all. How corny could it get? He followed the gravel drive and parked under an oak tree.
Getting out, he glanced toward the back of the vehicle and shook his head. He wouldn’t need his bag for a simple pick-up. With long easy strides taking him to the front porch, he took in the front of the house.
And came to a dead stop. Through the open curtains of the large front window, he could see her. Her hair was definitely longer, pulled back into a ponytail that went halfway down her back, but there was little else changed in her. Skimpy summer clothes showed off trim curves and a light golden tan. Being a red-blooded male, he noticed that her body had changed very little in a decade. Perhaps a bit fuller in the hips and breasts, but those curves simply made him more determined to seduce her in revenge for walking away.
It looked as if she was in the back of the house, in the kitchen. He couldn’t even begin to make a guess as to what she was doing cooking-wise, although he saw a large silver pot on the island stove top. Considering the way her body was swaying and her mouth was moving, he figured she was dancing and singing to the radio. He frowned. He’d heard her sing. Once. It had been enough. However, the male in him definitely liked the way she danced.
Max went to the front door. Without knocking, he turned the knob and scowled when it opened silently. A combination coat/umbrella rack and bench sat against the wall to the right with a door straight ahead to the back yard and a door to the right which he figured went to the garage. The wall to his left extended five feet before opening into the living area. Pausing in the open area, he watched her.
Ginny joined Shania Twain’s sultry tones, sliding the pies into the oven. Bumping the door closed with her hip, she danced her way across to the kitchen island. “Sing it, girlfriend!”
Wiggling her hips, she checked on her preserves and nodded. Spooning the dark berry mixture into the first Mason jar, she finished the song while filling a dozen jars.
“Ginny, you really should know better,” she murmured. “Singing at the top of your lungs,” she giggled. “You know darn well that just because you love to sing doesn’t mean God gave you the ability to sing.” She took a deep breath and grinned. “Oh, well. It’s not like I’m going to be in a talent show and damage the hearing of millions of people.”
She laughed and filled a dozen more jars, quickly sealing the lids. She lined them up on the counter, smiling in satisfaction as she released the ladle. The first notes of the next song made her freeze.
“Oh, no,” she groaned. “I so do not need this song right now.”
A man’s deep voice drawled about coming home to a seduction scene, and Ginny closed her eyes. Max frowned at her reaction. What was she thinking? Of doing that to someone? His eyes narrowed. There would have been a name, some indication in the file, if she was in a relationship.
The deep voice rumbled and she moaned in response.
“Stay calm, Ginny,” she muttered. “Deep breaths now. Breathing is good.”
“Depends on the type of breathing,” Max interrupted her reverie.
Ginny froze. Her gaze fixed on the grain of the granite. Max waited for her reaction. Would she remember him at all?
“You always were one of the few people to ever be able to sneak up on me,” she murmured. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Since you put the pies in the oven,” he replied. “What about this song do you not like?”
“I never said I didn’t like the song,” she whispered, sounding slightly breathless. “What are you doing here? Who gave you my address?”
Seeing that his presence made her uncomfortable, Max decided to push a few of her buttons as payback.
“Who would you do that for? Who would you set up a seduction scene for?” He took a few steps from the door. “The man in your life now? Or do you reach back into that perfect memory of yours and think about one of the men in your past?”
Ginny spun around. Her shoulder nudged the ladle which tipped out of the tall stockpot. And splattered the boiling hot mixture on her bare forearm. Gasping in pain, she staggered to the sink and thrust the affected skin under the cool water she managed to turn on with her other hand. She stared at the slash of red appearing on her skin.
Max strode across the room to her side. “Are you all right?” he asked.
Max studied her and saw few changes even close up—barefoot, no make-up, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Humidity had tendrils curling around her face. He inhaled the sweet musky scent of her and felt his body tighten just as it had ten years ago.
“It’s a little late to be asking that now, isn’t it?” she muttered through gritted teeth. “Where was all this concern ten years ago? That might have been a better time to ask how I was. Instead of now.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Max demanded.
She bit her bottom lip.
“As if you didn’t know,” she glared at him. “Telling everyone in Operations that it was my fault our cover was blown. Telling Frank you absolutely refused to work with another female agent again. Leaving me high and dry while you and the others went on with your careers.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he repeated.
“Do. Not. Swear in my home,” she ordered.
Max frowned. Everyone around him had lost their minds. Max stifled the curse that came to his lips. Perhaps he’d lost his sanity. Brown eyes locked on his face and shone with righteous indignation. Doubt flooded into his mind. Where was this sudden uncertainty coming from? Something missing in his memory? Was the past about to come up and bite his ass? Despite the fact that the pain pill should’ve kicked in by now, his headache pounded like an ocean’s roar. The only time it was this sharp was…right after nightmares about the attack. He’d made a reputation as an agent who combined actions with knowledge. And gut instinct. Now he went with it in his personal life. Taking a steadying breath, he looked at her.
“Ginny, tell me what happened.”
Chapter Two
“I woke up in the hospital and the first thing I’m told is that you blamed me for the mission falling apart,” she told him, blinking back tears at the remembered humiliation. She’d been grilled ruthlessly by interrogators inside the agency. And out. A man who had taken her to heights and depths she’d never imagined had destroyed everything she’d known. Because he didn’t want to take responsibility as the leader of the mission. Missions had failed before. It wasn’t always the fault of one person. Ninety-
five per cent of the time it was an accumulation of things. But he blamed her. She’d relived the event nearly every single night, even though he hadn’t had the courage to face her himself. “And they said that you said…” Her jaw clenched briefly before she glared at him. “You said I was so incompetent that you didn’t ever want to work with another woman again. While I was recovering in the hospital, you put the blame on me and went merrily on to your next mission.”
When Max just stared at her as if she’d lost her mind, she shrugged. Fine. If he didn’t like being called on what he’d done, that was his problem. She’d more than moved on. And she needed to get him the hell out of her home!
Ginny turned away and reached for the first aid kit attached to the side of the cabinet near the sink. The metal case was big and heavy and slipped from her grasp to crash onto the counter. In horror, she stared at the bandages that spilled out. They were covered with sports balls and gear.
“Ginny…” came Max’s strangled voice.
“Get out of my house,” she whispered, her right hand pausing in her frantic effort to shove the contents back into the box. Oh, God! If he started asking questions, she was done. She’d never been a good liar. But ten years ago, even those who knew her best hadn’t believed her. She wasn’t sure which had hurt more. Which had been the greater betrayal. “Just…get out of my…”
“Polaris,” he said softly, barely audible.
But she heard. Her right hand tightened around the strips of bandages, crushing them.
Polaris.
She closed her eyes and saw it all so clearly—explosions, Max yelling at her, and blood, so much blood, and the certainty that she would die. The nightmare was back. And it had brought Max back into her life. There was more at stake now. Much more. And her secrets could still send Max running. Any one of them could do it. She knew which all by itself would do it. If she just whispered the words.
“He’s back?” came her hollow voice.
“Yes. He killed George and Sam. Frank’s calling the rest of the team in. He sent me to bring you in so we…”
“No!” she shouted, spinning away from him. She dropped the box and the bandages on the counter. Moving quickly out of his reach, she wrapped her arms around her waist. “I’m an analyst now. No one wanted to work with me after the comments from your debriefing got around.”
Her heart hurt so much that she could’ve sworn her body was throbbing. He’d put all the blame on her, refused to talk to her, and gone on his merry way. Leaving her holding the bag on both a professional and a personal level. Her life had been destroyed! Everyone had watched her, waiting for her to fall apart. A few were still disappointed she hadn’t.
She hadn’t had much of a choice, she sighed. She’d had to hold on. Had to live. Had to thrive. She lifted her chin. Max Shannon wasn’t dealing with a newbie agent who’d become infatuated with him so quickly. Barely twenty-three. Fresh out of training, bright eyed, and naïve enough to think they were making a difference. But despite her young age, she’d been confident and the other team members had listened to her at least once. Even if the five men had laughed at her and continued their discussions as if she wasn’t there. She wasn’t that girl anymore. He was dealing with a woman who’d discovered her own strength simply because she hadn’t had anyone else to count on.
He studied her a moment and she wondered at how she could hear the wheels turning in his mind as if a decade hadn’t passed. He’d had the habit then of pulling random bits of conversation and running the information to the ground. She’d learned that from him.
“Back up a minute. You were in the hospital?” he probed. “How long? How bad were you hurt?”
“Three weeks,” she replied woodenly, eyes on the oak slats beneath her bare feet. Why did it sound as if he cared? That hurt the most. And after ten years! She heard shock in his voice. And was that concern? For her? And was that guilt? For what? For blaming her for the mission’s failure or not checking on her? She wasn’t even going to think about that. She couldn’t. Max had touched a part of her that no one else ever had. She’d been devastated after the mission and felt as if she had only one reason to live. “Mostly for a concussion and injuries from the explosions.” There was more, but she wasn’t going to get into that. If she could get him to leave quickly, she wouldn’t need to. “But then you know that. You told everyone I disobeyed your order and—”
“I was in the hospital for two months,” he cut in. Her head came up sharply, her eyes narrowing. He nodded. “I was in a coma for four weeks. So anything I said would hardly have been considered a debriefing.” He grimaced. “There’s a lot I don’t remember…”
Impossible. She’d been put through hell because of that debriefing. He was lying. He had to be. Otherwise, she’d gone through hell for no reason. She’d done things she never would have done otherwise. Head bowed, she took a deep breath. Whatever she’d done because of the fallout, her reasons beyond that were still valid.
What was the truth? And what was the lie? Max was telling her the truth. She could see that in his eyes. Or did she just want to believe him so much that her heart…No, her heart was staying out of this.
She focused her memory. Ginny’s mind put pieces together, and the shock from her conclusion was worse than the pain of the burn raging through her. They’d all been in on it. There was no way they could claim ignorance. People she should have been able to trust without hesitation had been part of a ten-year deception.
She didn’t know why. Couldn’t begin to fathom why. Was Polaris the reason? What about an arms-smuggler would cause an entire government agency to deceive two agents? Oh, dear God, she realized. They’d gotten too close last time. Somehow, she and Max had come closer to catching him when the team broke into pairs.
And for the agency to deceive them, that meant…
Realization sent a shudder nearly convulsing her body into doubling over. Before he could take a step toward her, she waved him back. Shaking his head, he moved toward her anyway.
“Someone didn’t want us together then,” she stated. “But now has brought us together whether that was the intention or not.”
The low words halted him in his tracks as the palm of her right hand on the counter levered her upright again.
“I’ll go along with that. But why?” came his thoughtful voice. “Why keep us apart? And did they intend to bring us back together?”
“Good questions,” she whispered, meeting his gaze briefly.
She smiled slightly. He believed her. It warmed her in ways she didn’t dare stop to consider. Remembering the horrible betrayal she had just realized had to be a part of the past ten years, his belief in her buoyed her spirits.
He hadn’t known she’d been hurt. Then who had been at her bedside? She’d heard a male voice reading to her. Had that been a dream? Reluctantly she let the cherished memory go.
Neither of them had asked about the other, she realized. They had taken the words of others without question.
Back on track, Ginny, she told herself. Polaris was active. Two people from the team were already dead. Max needed her memory to find out why. So, she would do what she had become the best at—using her memory and skills to put a puzzle together.
“So you switched to Analysis?” he frowned.
“No one wanted to work with me,” she replied. That memory hurt more than anything. “Despite the rivalry between the two divisions, I was rather warmly welcomed by Analysis.”
She lifted her chin, an action she knew was half-defiance and half-fear. He would see through her, but couldn’t know what she’d endured. It was a miracle that she had stayed with the agency.
But then it was even more of a miracle that she hadn’t thrown his ass out and called the police.
“So you’ve been riding a desk,” he mused. “Out of Operations…”
“You’re brilliant sometimes, you know that, Shannon?” she retorted. God, the man was the most insensitive ass she’d ever met! And she’d met a large
enough number to judge by. Her spine stiffened as she drew herself up to her full five feet one inch. He towered a foot over her. She ignored the fact that they were in her kitchen and she was barefoot in cut-offs and a tank, while he was in an immaculately cut suit. He looked handsome and sexy in the suit, but she refused to let that be a distraction. She knew he could step into any spy movie as either the hero or the villain. Shoving that aside, she got her mind back on track. “Now, why don’t you leave my home? I’m in the middle of something,” she gestured to her preserves. “And it won’t wait…”
Through the open windows of the adjoining living room, she heard a car pull up and the childish chatter that immediately followed a door slamming shut.
Her entire being stilled. Too late. She should’ve drop-kicked Max’s butt until he…Who the hell was she kidding? She had only been able to get the drop on him ten years ago because of his arrogance. There was no way she’d even be able to lay a hand on him now. But she hadn’t tried. She’d been so stunned by his sudden appearance, and now it was too late.
Max turned to look out the front window in time to see a mini-van go past his SUV. Running footsteps had his eyes going to the door.
“Hey, Mom! I’m home!”
A boy’s voice preceded his appearance in the doorway by a heartbeat. As soon as he saw the man with his mother, he skidded to a halt.
Max couldn’t breathe as he stared at a boy who was a clone of what he’d looked like just before he’d hit adolescence. Same shaggy, dark brown hair flopping into eyes that were the same deep blue of a stormy ocean. Tall for his age and lean with wiry muscles. Right down to the tee with his favorite baseball team’s emblem and dusty jeans. This boy was him all over again, except for the chin. He had Ginny’s chin.
“Mom?”
Through his shock, Max heard the worry in the boy’s voice and noted the way he dropped his backpack on the bench to his left.
“Mom, you okay?”
The boy strode toward them. Confident. Determined. And focused only on the man standing in front of his mother. The eyes were assessing, showing a quick-witted intelligence. He made a last second detour around the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room.
