by Peggy Jaeger
“How so? I mean, I don’t know your other sisters, but you and Kandy are highly successful women. You both have enviable and thriving, high-powered, lucrative careers.”
She nodded, wiped her hands dry on a paper towel and turned to him. “We do. But until a few years ago when Kandy met Josh, she was basically a workaholic with no other real life. Much like me.”
“I’m not getting your point, Gemma. How do you think your life would have been different if your father had stayed?”
* * *
How would it have been? It was question she’d tossed around in her head thousands of times.
Kandy had told her when Gemma had been introduced to Josh Keane, he’d pegged her as having trust issues with men immediately. He told Kandy he figured it had something to do with feeling abandoned by their father.
He wasn’t wrong. The mistakes with boys in her teenage years and then college, proved she drifted toward men who would hurt her, much as her father had.
The impenetrable wall she’d built around her heart over the past few years, coupled with always needing to be the dominant one in any relationship, the one in control, had turned Gemma into the workaholic, relationship-avoiding woman she’d once accused her sister of being.
Now, at a time in her life when her career was where she wanted it to be, Gemma was beginning to realize how much she wanted to share her successes with someone who would revel in them with her. Someone who would support her, her decisions, her desires. Someone she should be able to trust.
“If he had stayed,” she said, “and the fighting and the cheating ended, I’d like to think I would still be successful work-wise, but…”
“But?” Ky remained where was.
“Maybe…maybe I wouldn’t be so hard and tough on people. So demanding of perfection of myself and everyone around me. Maybe I’d be able to trust people a little more and not always feel like I needed to be in charge and in control.”
He continued to lean against the counter, but Gemma sensed something shift in his posture.
“I went to a lecture in college once,” she continued, while she poured more soda into a glass, “about how your parents influence the kind of person you turn into when you age. If they love you unconditionally, or if they’re cold and distant, you turn out one way. If they’re supportive and accepting of your decisions, or disdainful and ridiculing, you turn out another. A lot of the talk was about how feelings of being abandoned as a child can lead to problems with trust and acceptance in adulthood.”
Ky nodded. “I’ve read studies as part of my profiling training at the bureau like that. They all state the same thing. How a parent reacts and responds to a child when they’re young influences the person they’ll become in adulthood.”
“So you know, then. You understand what I mean.”
He pushed off the counter and crossed the small expanse of the kitchen. His fingers wound around her upper arms, drifted downward, and took her hands in his. The warmth spreading from them into her was soothing, calming, and arousing all at the same time.
“I do. What you’re trying to say is you have trouble trusting people, men particularly, because the one man you should have been able to trust with everything, including your love, betrayed that trust by leaving you.”
Gemma’s shoulders relaxed when she let out the breath she’d been holding in. “Exactly.”
“I can understand that, Gemma, I really can.”
“That’s the beginning of a but sentence if I’ve ever heard one.”
His grin set of an explosion of firecrackers in her stomach. “But, despite that betrayal and how it should, theoretically, have affected you, you’re a brilliant photographer, a savvy business woman, you can kick ass like no body’s business”—she grinned at that—“and you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known.”
The blush she felt spring up her face at his words was unpreventable.
He tugged her into his arms, wound his hands around her waist, settling his body comfortably against hers.
“You’re all those things and more, Gemma. And I think you would have wound up the same way, in the exact same place you are now, with your father’s presence in your life or not. This is who you are, what you are, the person you were meant to be. And from where I’m standing,” he wedged one knee between her legs and leaned in closer, “you’re a pretty remarkable woman.”
She cupped his cheek and rubbed her thumb along his lips.
Words failed her. In that moment, without a doubt, she knew she was starting to have real feelings for Ky; feelings she’d blocked herself from having for so long.
And feelings she didn’t know how to deal with. Or more accurately, she told herself, couldn’t deal with.
“Trust is hard for most people,” he told her. “But getting hurt sucks, whether it’s emotionally or physically, and whether you’re betrayed or abandoned, or your heart is stomped on, it makes it harder to trust the next time.”
She nodded.
“But you need to cut yourself some slack here. You were an innocent kid, as were your sisters. It’s not your fault your father couldn’t live up to his responsibilities, or grow out of his selfishness. And that’s what he was: selfish. When you have kids, nothing else matters but them. Not what you want, what you need, even what you think you deserve. Just those kids, who are now dependent on you for everything. He walked away and truly, he doesn’t deserve a minute’s thought from you ever again.”
“It’s funny. I know that in my head, but just can’t accept it in my heart.”
He kissed her temple and sighed against her cheek. “You’ve made yourself into something any father would be proud of. The fact he doesn’t know it, know you, is his loss, not the other way around. Know that.”
“I do, but it’s really nice to hear it,” she said. “Thank you. For understanding and for saying that.”
He pulled back and stared down at her. “You know you can trust me, right? I’m not like your father, like the other men you’ve known. I won’t hurt you. I won’t leave you. Do you trust that? Trust me?”
When she didn’t respond, his brow pulled inward. “Gemma?”
Her mouth grew dry. She was unable to find the words to tell him, so instead, she decided to show him.
One hand snaked up and around his neck while she placed her mouth close to his. With a quick glance up at his still frowning face, she pressed into him and kissed him.
“Gemma.” His eyes darkened, heated, bringing to mind the ocean churning just before a storm. He whispered something in Greek while he slid his lips along her jaw again.
“I may not speak the language, but I can guess the meaning of those words.” She giggled and hugged him, tickled when his shoulders shook against her.
He pulled back and kissed the tip of her nose. “No translation will do it justice, anyway.”
He ran a finger tenderly along her cheek, down to her neck, where he put his lips.
Gemma’s head fell back, giving him all the access he wanted. In no time, he had her panting and primed.
“I want you so much,” she said against his lips. “So much.”
He held her head between his hands and shifted, deepening the kiss, reaching down into her soul.
Her hands were everywhere, all over his body, squeezing, scraping, pressing. She couldn’t get close enough to him.
Ky broke away from her suddenly and spun her around so her back was against the front of him.
“Put your hands, flat, on the counter.”
His beautiful voice had turned to flame-forged steel.
Without a word of protest, she did.
In the next heartbeat he tugged her yoga pants down to her ankles, her panties following.
“Wha—”
“No. Don’t turn around. Keep your hands on the counter.”
She felt him u
nbuckling his pants with one hand while the other slid down her butt, spread her cheeks, and cupped her.
Gamma’s gasp echoed in the room.
“Spread your legs for me,” he commanded, his breath hot near her ear, his voice tight.
More turned on by the sound of the just-barely controlled emotion in his voice than she ever thought she could be, she did as he commanded. When he slid his first two fingers inside her, she bucked and arched, falling forward on the counter.
“You’re so damn wet and ready for me.”
Only you, she wanted to say. Only you.
He pulled his fingers from her and the sound of a wrapper being torn filled her ears.
“Stay in this position,” he said. “Don’t move.”
It never even entered her mind to.
He slid himself along her dampness, then, in one powerful thrust, he was completely inside her.
Gemma screamed, the sound muffled by the blood drumming through her head. She gripped the counter edge, felt Ky’s hands spread over her hips, squeezing, anchoring, and met him, measure for measure as he moved in and out of her.
She came on another scream moments later, momentarily blinded when all the blood in her body rushed to where Ky had her completely under his control.
He followed her over the ledge, then collapsed across her back.
When he moved his hands to lie next to hers on the counter, she couldn’t help the tingle of egotistical pride that tumbled through her when she noticed they were shaking.
I did that. I made him tremble.
His breathing was fast and uneven at her ear. She reached around and patted him on the hip, his muscles still quivering against her.
“See?” she said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. “Like I told you before. Fast and hard. It’s the best.”
A laugh barked across her back as he wound his hands around her waist and hugged her tight.
Chapter Seventeen
Another day flew by while they waited for word from Bannerman. Gemma started to worry it would never come.
In the next breath, she almost wished it wouldn’t.
Never in her life had she felt so free, which was completely ridiculous. She was as far from free as a person could get, since she and Ky were prisoners in the cabin, awaiting the okay to leave. For the first time in her adult life, though, she had no assignments, deadlines, or contracts she needed to honor; no clients she needed to appease and make look good; no worries other than what to make for dinner.
Well, except for the fact that a madman wanted her dead.
Funny thing was, she’d gone from hating every minute of her confinement while at the safe house, to treasuring the solitude and the company of the man with her.
In New York, she was on the go from morning to night, moving from one photo shoot to another, meeting with clients, visiting with her family. She had her beautiful condo that many days she simply used as a place to drop her equipment before falling into bed, exhausted.
Go, go, go, day after day, week after week, shoot after shoot.
The week before she’d witnessed the shooting she’d been in London for two days photographing one of the country’s hero footballers for GQ, then Venice for a night to shoot a film star at her villa.
Here, the farthest place she could go was the surrounding woods, a far cry from the usual, bustling places she frequented.
Until a week ago she hadn’t minded being alone for most of her down time, knowing she could always visit with a sister or two, or call Kandy for a quick meal. Now, she’d gotten used to having someone around her twenty-four-seven, and couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be left alone again.
Gemma scrolled through the photographs she’d uploaded of Ky after they’d made love, the pictures she’d cajoled him into agreeing to by telling him no one would ever see them. As she moved from one photo to the next in a slide show, she knew her original thought that every picture would be perfect was true. Ky’s was, without doubt, the most perfect body she’d ever shot. And that was saying something since she’d photographed everyone from top sports athletes to Olympic medal–winners at the peak of their success and while in the best shape of their lives.
None of them could compete with the flawlessness of Ky’s perfectly etched muscles, natural golden skin, or ocean colored eyes. She’d agreed to never show the photos to anyone but him and now regretted making the promise. Understanding his need for anonymity because of his job was a valid concern. Gemma knew how important the respect and trust of his coworkers and fellow agents was to him. But these pictures screamed to be seen by the public; admired; worshiped.
How to do that and still keep her promise was the problem.
Ky’s fingers danced along his keyboard when she looked across the great room to where he was seated. He’d been trying to tie up some lose ends concerning the Ritandi investigation for as long as she’d been sitting and working on her photos.
After waking in each other’s arms after another night of intimacy, they’d worked out in the garage, showered together, ran out of hot water because they’d lingered for so long under the spray, made a light breakfast, and then had each decided to work.
Gemma hadn’t been alone with another person for such a substantial amount of time since before she’d left for college. If she’d have been asked a week ago, she would have said she loved living alone, being alone, and not encumbered with anyone else. No distractions, no awkward conversation lags to hurdle over; no need to make small, pleasant talk or worry that the other person wasn’t feeling enough attention was being paid.
If asked today, she would have negated everything she’d said before. She felt…comfortable and at ease, was the best way to describe it, sitting across the room from Ky. He demanded nothing of her time, respecting her need and desire to work on her coffee-table book, and had silently asked for the same kind of consideration while he delved as deep as he could into the Ritandi-Tiege connection.
Comfort and ease. Two words she would never had thought to use to describe a relationship.
Gemma blinked. Hard.
A relationship? Is that what she and Ky had?
No, it wasn’t. They were two people who’d been forced together by circumstances neither could have prevented or predicted, who’d found each other sexually attractive and acted on it. That was all.
Or, was it?
Just as she started to delve deeper into the question, the disposable burner phone Rick had given them beeped.
Gemma’s gaze skated to Ky, and his to her. He reached for the phone and hit the answer icon.
“Yeah?”
Gemma’s attention zeroed in on him. A second later he ended the call.
“It’s a go,” he told her, rising and crossing to where she sat at the kitchen table.
He pulled her up and into his arms.
“When?” She rubbed her hands down his back to rest on his waist.
“Tomorrow.”
She nodded and leaned into him.
“Then this nightmare will all be over by tomorrow night?”
Ky pulled back and traced a thumb across her jaw. “Hopefully, yes.”
“Are you okay with all this? It won’t be easy.”
His caustic laugh sent a shiver down her spine.
“I’m fine.”
“Ky—”
He squeezed her arms. “I’m fine, Gemma. Really. This has to be done.”
And he was the man to do it, she knew. The only man.
“Everything will be fine. We just need to stick to the plan.”
She nodded and laid her head down on his shoulder.
In twenty-four hours this nightmare would be over. She could go back to her life, her work, her family.
And Ky would go back to his world.
Would she ever see him again? Wou
ld he even want to? They hadn’t discussed what came after tomorrow. He’d told her she could trust him; that he wouldn’t leave her. It was the truth. Ky was a man of his word. She trusted him to stand by her side and protect her. Stay with her. Ride out the problem to its end.
But when this was all done and behind them, what then?
“I have to make the call.”
She nodded and slipped out of his arms.
Using one of the cell phones Theo had provided, Ky punched in a number from memory.
With his gaze glued to hers, he said into the phone, “Jon? Yeah, it’s me. We need to meet.”
* * *
“You’re clear about what you need to do tomorrow?” Ky asked.
Gemma snuggled under his arm and kissed his neck, the bed still warm from their recent lovemaking.
“No worries,” she said on a yawn.
No worries. If only it were that simple.
Tomorrow could go either way. The best made plans had a way of unraveling, but he was confident what he and Bannerman had devised would work. His FBI training had preached that people’s underlying behavior didn’t change, even when they were placed in dangerous situations. He was counting on that to be true. Tomorrow Tiege would hopefully be in custody, and if the planets all aligned, he’d have a solid bead on Ritandi. The FBI would suffer through a few raised eyebrows, an internal investigation-maybe even an external one-from the corruption he’d discovered, but it would survive in the end.
Gemma would be safe once again and they could both go back to their lives.
The problem with that scenario was Ky didn’t want go back to his life. He wanted to start a new one. With Gemma by side.
He hadn’t even known there was something missing in his life until he’d met her. Life at the bureau—a life he’d forged for himself—had, until recently, been enough. He enjoyed the work, celebrated in the successes, felt fulfilled when he brought someone to justice. He gave it his all, and as Jon Winters had jokingly told Gemma: “everyone thought he was married to it.”
And right there was the problem. Much like Gemma, he had nothing else in his life but his family and work. No one to come home to at night, to share with, to talk over a bad day, or relive a good one. No one to make new memories with.
