A Shot at Love

by Peggy Jaeger

  The images she’d taken of Ky in bed popped up immediately, filling her screen and kicking her pulse into high gear.

  He truly was a magnificent man. Every curve and dip in his chest and abdomen, where the muscles grouped and flexed, was perfection. Memories of all that power and strength above her, surrounding her, inside her, shot to the front of her mind. Gemma closed her eyes and sat back, just letting them play through.

  She missed him. Pure and simple. Alone in the privacy of her home, safe and secure from any threats, and free to let her mind explore, she could finally admit what she truly felt for him.

  And it was more than the simple longing she’d tried to convince herself it was.

  Much more.

  Was she was in love with him? She’d never been in love with any man before, so her reference for what she was feeling was nil. But there could be no other explanation for what she was going through. Her mind drifted to his image no matter what she was doing. His was the last face she saw before falling asleep, the first thing that popped into her head upon awakening, and her dreams were filled with him. His voice, his expressions, the way his eyes stared at her when he was inside her, as if he could read her thoughts.

  He’d snuck past her all her defenses, sidestepped her protective nature, and grabbed hold of her heart with his hands.

  It wasn’t just the physical part of him that she craved, either. Oh, that was great enough. Gemma was a woman who knew the benefits of physical pleasure and she enjoyed sex. Sex with Ky was amazing. He’d approached it the way he seemed to everything else in his life: calmly, thoroughly, and with full commitment. The way she’d felt when he kissed her, as if he owned her body and soul, had been a heady experience, and she’d remembered thinking what unbelievable and complete power there was in surrender. It sounded crazy, but to give all her control over to him, to trust him with everything she was and had, was stupefying.

  Physically, they were a near-perfect match. In so many other ways, though, they were as well. He was a competent straight man to her many snarky remarks, able to toss out a dead-aimed zinger of his own now and again. They both enjoyed martial arts, and what she might lack in body strength, she more than made up for in skill. Ky had even admitted she was masterful with weapons. They both liked to cook, although she easily conceded he was the better chef.

  Family had come first, last, and always to her, and it did to Ky as well. The way his eyes had gone soft and loving when he’d spoken of his siblings, or quoted his mother or grandmother, showed her he was the type of man who valued those he loved.

  Every way she looked at him, inside, out, physically, mentally, and spiritually, Kyros Pappandreos was a man—the only man—she could picture giving her heart to and entrusting him with.

  She hit the scroll button on her laptop and stopped at every photo she’d taken of him. In the garage while he’d been pummeling the punching bag, drenched in sweat and looking like a powerful machine; seated on the couch while he’d been hatching his plan with Rick, thoughtful and pensive; the pictures of him naked and spread across the bed, a sheet covering him from the waist down, a look of drowsy sexual satisfaction in his eyes. Satisfaction from what they’d just shared.

  A single tear slipped down her cheek. Gemma laughed out loud, not missing the irony of crying over a man when she’d spent a lifetime protecting herself from ever doing just that.

  Work was the one thing she knew would take her mind off missing Ky, so she squared her shoulders and got to it. The coffee-table book wasn’t going to produce itself.

  She had her memory discs, minus the Calafano pictures, and all the other photos she’d already taken around New York City.

  Time to make some magic.

  Hours later she stumbled back to bed, and, fully clothed, settled under the covers.

  * * *

  The number displayed across her screen was unfamiliar. Thinking, hoping, it was a certain special agent sent her pulse into race mode.

  “Hello?”

  Good Lord, was that breathless anticipation really her?

  “Gemma? It’s Jon Winters.”

  “Hi.” She tried to infuse some warmth into her voice. It wasn’t his fault he was the wrong agent calling her.

  “We need to bring you in so we can get your statement about everything that went down.”

  She’d been expecting the summons. “When?”

  “Is today good?”

  She told him it was. “But you don’t have to pick me up. I can get myself down there.”

  “No can do. I’ve been ordered to make sure you get here safe and sound.”

  Gemma wondered who’d ordered that.

  An hour later he met her downstairs at her condo and helped her into another black Escalade.

  “I’m beginning to think this vehicle is made exclusively for the FBI.”

  Jon chuckled. Seated next to her in the second row of seats, he peered at her for a moment, then asked, “So, how are you doing? Really?”

  Gemma shrugged and gave him a smile. “It’s good to be home. I’ve been working nonstop, after sleeping for about fourteen hours that first night back.”

  “The adrenaline drop,” he said, nodding. “Happens to us all the time when a case is finally done. Exhaustion sets in and then after a day or so back to reality, you’re looking for the next shot of it to hit your bloodstream.”

  She didn’t think she’d ever heard the experience described so well before.

  “We should be there in a few more minutes. Let me tell you what’s gonna happen.”

  He took her through the steps of her testimony. Barly insisted she be videotaped and he would be present to conduct the questioning.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Jon assured her. “He’s a bit of a blowhard, and he might come across as an asshole, but you’ll be fine. He already knows all about the plan with Tiege. I told him before it ever went down what we were going to do. When your friend Bannerman contacted me that was the first thing Ky had wanted.”

  At the mention of his name Gemma’s body went on alert. She desperately wanted to ask how he was, where he was, why he wasn’t the one bringing her in, but somehow, she couldn’t get the words out.

  “Ky’s stuck in DC, by the way,” Jon offered. “The director needed to go over some things concerning Tiege and our division with him, otherwise he’d be the one with you today.”

  “Oh,” was all she could manage to say.

  He cocked his head as his gaze traveled across her face. In the next moment he said, “We’re here.”

  Five hours later, tired and drained, he dropped her back at the condo with a kiss to her cheek and a promise to call if anything else came up she was needed for.

  * * *

  Two more days passed, and she still hadn’t heard from Ky.

  Her mind was cluttered with thoughts of why, but the one that she gave the most space to was the simple fact that he didn’t want to see her.

  She was no longer in danger and his duty toward her was done. Done with the case, and with her.

  The physical closeness they’d shared had been nothing more than a reaction to two adults experiencing simple desire in enclosed quarters, during a stressful time.

  That had to be it, because if it had been more, if Ky had felt one tenth for her what she had for him, he would have contacted her. Would have been here with her. Would have made the time.

  All her thoughts that what they’d shared was different from anything else she’d ever experienced with a man were true. Unfortunately, she now realized those feelings were one-sided. Hers.

  She dragged herself from bed, forced herself to take a shower and eat. She wouldn’t cry over him again or let his unexplained absence rule her life. She had clients lining up for appointments; she had the book to finish, and another to start. Tasks to keep her busy. Work to keep her from thinking abo
ut him.

  She worked on her computer, editing photographs and e-mailing clients without stopping until late afternoon.

  Just as she was finishing up and about to make something to fill her growling and insistent stomach, the doorbell chimed.

  Without first looking through the peep hole or asking who it was, she pulled the door open and gasped.

  “Ky!”

  He looked…wonderful. Exhausted, but wonderful. About three days’ worth of amber, honey-blond stubble lined his jaw, dark, half-moon shaped blotches circled under his eyes, and it looked as if he’d been wearing the same clothes for a while. He leaned against the doorframe, as if he needed it to keep him upright. Gemma wanted to wrap her arms around him and cuddle away all the pain and weariness she saw in his eyes and on his face. Then, in the next breath she remembered she was mad and wanted to punch him for not getting in touch with her.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I come in?” he asked. Even his voice sounded close to the edge of collapse.

  Gemma pulled the door open wide. He let out a breath, placed his jacket over his forearm, and entered.

  “Thanks,” he said when she shut it behind her. “I wasn’t sure you’d be home. I took a chance without calling or texting first. I hoped,” he shook his head, “I hoped you’d be here.”

  She led him into the living room.

  “This is nice,” he said absently, glancing around, his eyes tired but alert. “I wasn’t paying attention the last time I was here.”

  The day she’d been attacked. The day they’d met.

  Lord! Was it really just two weeks ago?

  “Would you like something to drink? Or eat?” she asked. “I was just going to fix myself something.”

  “I wouldn’t say no to a beer if you have one.”

  “I do. Sit.” She pointed to the sofa. “You look about ready to drop.”

  He nodded. While she went into the kitchen to get them drinks she heard him settle down and sigh.

  Her heart stuttered at the bone-weary fatigue in the sound.

  She laid a hand across the quivering muscles in her stomach and set about making him a sandwich.

  “Here.” She handed him the beer she’d poured into a glass and set down the small plate with the ham and cheese she made on the cocktail table, and then sat down on the opposite side of the sofa.

  “Thanks.”

  He took a long draught, tipping his head back as he drank.

  Such a profound craving to reach out and run her mouth along his exposed jaw and neck pounded through her, she squirmed in her seat and settled her butt firmly into the cushion so she’d stay put.

  When he leaned forward again, his gaze shot to her.

  “How are you doing since you’ve been home?”

  She shrugged. “Fine. Busy. Getting my life back in order again.”

  “No nightmares, trouble sleeping? No anxiety about what happened?”

  “None.” She mentally crossed her fingers against the fib.

  Ky nodded. “Jon told me you gave your taped deposition. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for it. For you.”

  Her heart gave a little shudder at his words. She bit down on the inside of her cheek before she asked, “How about you? Is the investigation closed now? Officially?”

  “Almost. I’ve been tied up with the director and attorney general. I just got off the plane about an hour ago. I haven’t even been back to my apartment yet.”

  So he’d come directly to her. Interesting.

  “Was it bad?”

  “It wasn’t good.” He blew out a breath. “The attorney general went on a rampage when he was told Ritandi was dead. He blames me.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’d think he’d be happy the man was brought to justice, no matter how it was accomplished.”

  Ky shook his head absently and took another drink of his beer. “He wants answers to questions and now he can’t get them. With Ritandi dead we can’t find out much more about his organization. There’s still stuff we haven’t been able to tie to him to, and now it looks like we won’t be able to. And then there are the millions of questions about Tiege. How did Ritandi get to him? What was the leverage? Is anyone else involved? It’s been a nightmare. My tech guys have been combing through Tiege’s home and office computers since we got back.”

  “Have they found anything?”

  “Nothing of use other than confirmation about the account Bannerman found with Tiege’s wife’s name attached to it. If there is anything it’s buried so deep we may never find it. Tiege was assigned to the cybercrimes division for ten years before he was made SAC. He knew how to cover his virtual tracks well.”

  “Can’t you ask Theo for help?”

  He stared across the length of the sofa at her, his eyes half closed, his brows almost kissing. She’d give anything to know what he was thinking with a look like that.

  “Unfortunately, I can’t. Not officially. And if I did it unofficially and he found something, I wouldn’t be able to use it since it wasn’t legally discovered. Lawyers love that phrase: fruit from the poisoned tree.”

  “I thought privilege like that didn’t follow you once you were dead?”

  “Typically, it doesn’t. But discovery from a non-agency source is grounds for survivors to contest. Possibly sue. The bureau doesn’t need that kind of headache.”

  “Rock, meet hard place,” Gemma said.

  One corner of Ky’s mouth kicked up. “My life for the past three years.”

  He finished his beer, placed the glass back on the table, then scrubbed his hands down his face and yawned.

  “Anyway. It’ll work itself out in time.” He turned to look directly at her again. “I didn’t come here to discuss all that with you.”

  “Oh?” She tried to ignore the little stab to her heart. She’d hoped he was here because he missed her, realized he couldn’t live without her…loved her.

  Wishful thinking.

  “Do you want another beer?”

  She rose, but Ky’s hand shot out to grab her arm.

  “No.”

  The touch sent an electrical frisson through her body. His long, strong fingers wound around her forearm, holding her in place. Gemma didn’t know whether to sit back down or stay rooted to her spot.

  Ky solved the problem when he gently tugged on her arm and brought her down next to him.

  He slid his hand down her arm to lace their fingers together. Utter warmth spread through her from head to toes.

  “Gemma.”

  Had her name ever sounded so sweet on any other man’s lips?

  “We need to talk.”

  Oh, God! Here it comes: the letdown, the brush off.

  Historically, Gemma had been the one who always told the man she was with it was time to move on, that things were over between them. It was one of the ways she’d always been able to keep control of the relationship. She’d start it. And she’d end it. Her heart would remain unscathed.

  But she couldn’t bear to hear the words come through Ky’s lips. It would break her in two.

  “No, we don’t, Ky. It’s okay. I know what you’re going to say, and it’s okay. Really.”

  The corrugated lines in his forehead deepened as he regarded her. “What do you think I’m going to say?”

  Pride, ego, and self-preservation bounded through her. She wouldn’t let him see her come apart. Couldn’t let him know her real feelings. She needed to dig deep for that lifelong cord of control that she’d never needed more than she did right now.

  “Gemma?”

  She sighed and placed her free hand over his, patted it, like she would a child who needed reassurance. “Like I said, it’s okay. You don’t have to say it. We’re both grownups.”

  “Just what is it you don’t think I need to say?”
<
br />   “Ky.” She shrugged.

  “No. Really, Gemma. I need you to tell me, because I sure as heck don’t know what you mean.”

  “Oh, all right.” She tugged her hand from his, intending to stand and move away from him, but he wouldn’t let it go. In fact, when she pulled, he squeezed harder.

  She took a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at the lamp next to the couch. She couldn’t look directly at him without coming undone.

  “Look at me, Gemma.”

  From any other man’s lips, that command would have sent her back shooting up straight as a pin. That she did exactly what he told her to in an instant was an indication of how much power he had over her.

  “Baby, look at me.” His voice softened with the endearment and, God help her, tears threatened to drop.

  She swallowed them back, looked up at him and said, “You’re going to tell me that since this case is done, and I’m no longer in any kind of danger, that, well…”

  Gemma sighed, all the fight going out of her. “I’m trying to tell you I understand. We were in a dangerous situation, adrenaline gets flowing, emotions and urges get acted upon…”

  He continued to stare at her with confusion on his face.

  Did he really not understand what she was saying?

  “We slept together, Ky. We used each other to get through a bad time. To give us each a little comfort, a little diversion. But it’s over now and we can get back to our lives. Back to the way things were…before.”

  “You think I used you for comfort? For sex? Because you were, what? Available?”

  She nodded, as one single tear broke loose and slipped down her cheek. Gemma cursed her weakness.

  “I’m saying we both used each other. And then it all got to be too much, between us,” she said. “I realize that. You were just doing your job, trying to keep me safe. Everything you did, everything you said, was because you were doing your job. I was the one who, well, made it go further than it should have.”

  Saying it out loud made it sound so real, so final.

  “Gemma, look at me.”

  She did.

  “In all the time we’ve spent together, through everything, the shootings, the running, everything, do you really think that I would have made love to you if I didn’t want to? That you basically forced me into it?”