Breakaway

by Rochelle Alers

  Celia’s gaze shifted from Gavin to her brother, then back again. “If we go, then what are we going to do with Terry?”

  “Who’s Terry?” Nicholas asked.

  “He’s my—he’s our dog,” she said, quickly correcting herself.

  Nicholas waved a hand. “Bring the dog with you. He should get along well with the other dogs at the farm.”

  “How many dogs do you have, Nicky?”

  He turned his head so his sister would see his smirk. It was a known fact that Celia had a soft spot for dogs. “Four. We have a bitch that should whelp her first litter in another week.”

  Exhaling an audible breath while closing her eyes, Celia wondered if going to Virginia and seeing horses up close would help her get over her fear of them. She was only five when she’d fallen off a pony. While she’d lain on the ground he’d stepped on her head, leaving her traumatized. She’d lost count of the number of times Nicky had asked her to come visit him at the horse farm, and after a while he’d just stopped. She knew he’d taken a huge risk when he’d invested so much of his money in a failing farm, and within a couple of years managed to realize a profit for the first time. Nicky had always supported her while she’d never supported him.

  “Okay.” She opened her eyes, seeing the shock freezing her brother’s face. “I’ll come. But don’t expect me to go anywhere around your horses.”

  Nicholas flashed a wide white-tooth grin. “If you don’t want to see horses, then you don’t have to. Why don’t you guys come next weekend?”

  “What’s happening next weekend?” Celia asked.

  “There’s an open house at a neighboring farm. Blackstone Farms is one of a few owned and operated African-American horse farms in Virginia. Sheldon Blackstone, who has gone into semiretirement, came to see me a week after I took possession and told me if I needed a mentor then he was the one. I’ve never questioned anything he said, and the result was a thirty-to-one long shot that came in first at the International Gold Cup.”

  Celia gave Gavin a sidelong glance. “What do you think?”

  He smiled. “It sounds like fun.”

  “It will be,” Nicholas confirmed. “Dress is casual, so you won’t have the excuse that you have nothing to wear,” he said, smiling.

  Unfolding her legs, Celia stood up, both men rising with her. “I think it’s time I put my pork in the oven. The refrigerator and pantry are full, so if you want anything to eat or drink before dinner, then you’re on your own, because I have to work on a few needlecraft projects for a friend’s baby.”

  Gavin, waiting until Celia walked back inside, leaned over and bumped fists with Nicholas. “If the horses don’t spook your sister, then you shouldn’t have a problem having her stay with you when the time comes for me to leave.”

  Nicholas shook his head in amazement. “Either the shootout at the E.R. has mellowed her or you have some helluva mojo, Gavin.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t get your nose out of joint. One thing Celia never has been and that’s passive. She’s stubborn, opinionated and a scrapper. Guys who liked her were always afraid to approach her because she has a ‘screw-you’ face that kept them at a distance. Somehow she interacts differently with you. I don’t know if it’s because she views you as her protector or if you’re able to crack her tough exterior.”

  “It could be both, Nicholas.”

  Chapter 8

  Celia, sitting across the dining room table from Nicholas and Gavin, bit into the roll filled with melt-in-the-mouth shredded pork drizzled with a peppery vinegar barbecue sauce and topped with coleslaw. Gavin had added thinly sliced dill pickles and extra sauce on the plate.

  She sighed and closed her eyes. “Incredible.”

  Gavin winked at Celia. “You’re an incredible cook, Celia.” She’d created a roast pork dish, served with flavorful white rice, black beans, an avocado salad and mojo criollo—a potent garlic sauce.

  Nicholas speared a forkful of shredded pork that had fallen out of his roll. “While you two are wasting time engaging in a mutual admiration, I intend to get my eat on.” His eyes grew wider. “Damn, Gavin! You are good. How you would like to come and work for me at Cole-Thom Farms? I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

  Gavin swallowed a mouthful of black beans. “Doing what?”

  “You could take over as the farm’s chef.”

  “Sorry. I like my current job, and my cooking repertoire isn’t that versatile.”

  He’d liked working undercover for the Bureau because he liked being challenged, enjoyed taking risks. But, as he grew older, taking risks was no longer a priority. Staying alive was. Gavin had promised his mother he would apply for a field office position. He knew she would never recover if she lost both her sons in the line of duty. She’d sacrificed enough when agents came to the door with the news that her husband had given his life for the Bureau and his country.

  During a one-on-one meeting with Bradley MacArthur, Gavin had requested permission to speak off the record. It was the first time he’d bared his soul to his supervisor. He’d revealed the pain of growing up without his father, his mother’s tears whenever she would’ve celebrated her wedding anniversary if her husband had still been alive, and her fear of losing not one, but her two sons in the line of duty. He’d been forthcoming when he told Mac he loved working as a special agent, but wasn’t certain how much longer he would remain with the Bureau if he wasn’t assigned a supervisory field office position. Mac promised to see what he could do.

  Gavin had served notice when he told the men representing a joint task force operation that bringing in Raymond Prentice was going to be his last field assignment. If the other men hadn’t believed him, he knew Mac did.

  “What’s wrong with the chef you have, Nicky?” Celia asked.

  “He’s okay, but the man’s afraid to cook outside the box.”

  Celia touched her mouth with a napkin. “He probably needs to take a few continuing education courses. Even though my college roommate taught me to cook it was abuela who taught me to raise the bar and not to be afraid of using different spices.”

  “Too bad our mother didn’t listen to her,” Nicholas mumbled under his breath.

  “Nicholas!” Celia chided softly. “Not in front of company.”

  “Which is he, Celia? Company, or your bodyguard?”

  “I am her bodyguard.” Gavin had answered for Celia, resenting the younger man’s inference. He’d recalled her talking about being the dreaded middle child, and there was no doubt she was forced to be a scrapper in order to stand up to two overprotective brothers.

  Nicholas stared at his sister, and then his gaze shifted to the man on his left. “Maybe it would be better if you didn’t tell people you were Cee Cee’s bodyguard.”

  A thick silence filled the dining room as the three occupants stared at one another. “How do you want me to introduce Gavin, Nicky?” Celia’s voice had taken on a coaxing quality.

  “If you say he’s your boyfriend or companion then no one will ask questions.”

  Celia was totally confused by Nicholas’s behavior. Something nagged her as she tried assembling hints and innuendos like a puzzle to make a recognizable picture. Her brother claimed to have stopped by on a whim, he’d invited her and Gavin to visit his farm the following weekend and now he wanted Gavin to pretend he was her lover.

  “Why do I have to convince people that Gavin and I are lovers, Nicky?”

  Nicholas’s impassive expression did not change with her query. “Have you forgotten that you are the only witness in a trial that is certain to attract not only local but national attention?”

  “I have no intention of hiding—”

  “He’s right, Celia,” Gavin interrupted. “You’ll make it more difficult for me if you don’t keep a low profile.”

  Celia wavered, trying to comprehend what she was hearing from her brother and Gavin. “So, you want me to pretend that you and I have hooked up?”

 
; He cocked his head. “I wouldn’t say hooked up. It would be more like involved.”

  “How involved, Gavin?”

  “Very involved.”

  Celia couldn’t believe she was having this conversation—and in front of her brother, no less. Her gaze lowered. She stared across the table at Gavin through her lashes. If Nicholas hadn’t rung the bell there was no doubt she and her self-appointed bodyguard would’ve become more than involved. He probably would have ended up in her bed and inside her.

  Since she had become involved with Gavin Faulkner she was constantly bombarded with the realization that she was a woman, a very passionate woman who had yet to experience the full range of her sexuality. Celia knew she was able to excite Gavin as much as he excited her.

  She didn’t want involvement as much as she needed it. She’d pledged her future to a man who was ambivalent about sex. It hadn’t mattered to Yale if they didn’t make love for weeks. At first, she believed it had something to do with his age. But she knew a lot of men in their forties who were still very sexually active. She had great-uncles who’d fathered children in their forties.

  Was she physically attracted to Gavin?

  The answer was unequivocally yes.

  Did she want to become physically involved with Gavin?

  The answer was still yes.

  Did she want to fall in love with him?

  Celia knew without a doubt that she didn’t. If the circumstance for her to take a lover for the summer presented itself, then she would, and when it ended she knew she would be mature enough to walk away with incredible memories from the liaison.

  The tense lines bracketing her mouth disappeared when she smiled. “You’re right,” she conceded to no one in particular. “Whenever Gavin and I are out together in public he can be my escort, boyfriend, companion or lover.” She winked at Gavin. “The choice is yours, darling.”

  He inclined his head in a mock bow. “Thank you, baby.”

  Nicholas picked up a glass of sweet tea. “That was easy,” he murmured before taking a deep swallow.

  Dinner became a leisurely affair, lasting more than two hours. Gavin and Nicholas talked about everything: the military, politics, sports and the state of the economy. Celia had served sweet tea and pinot noir to accompany the meal, and while she drank the tea, Nicholas and Gavin drank wine. She’d surprised the two men when she retreated to the kitchen to bring out a tray with flan de coco, a light and airy coconut flan, and strong, dark, aromatic coffee in demitasse cups.

  Gavin rose quickly to take the tray from her. “Why didn’t you ask me to help you?” he asked close to her ear.

  She flashed an attractive smile, bringing his gaze to linger on her mouth. “Now, that would’ve spoiled the surprise. I didn’t know who’d want lemon peel, but it’s there for whoever wants it.” Traditionally for Cubans if dark coffee was served at the end of a meal, espresso style, it was never accompanied by lemon peel.

  Nicholas, having finished his dessert and coffee, patted his flat belly. “I’ve overindulged on everything and that includes food and wine. I’m definitely going to turn in early tonight.” He raised his half-filled wineglass. “The winner of the pork challenge is…” His words trailed off as he appeared deep in thought. “It’s a tie!” Gavin and Celia threw their napkins at him, and Nicholas doubled over laughing. Pushing back his chair, he stood. “I’m going out to my car to get my bag. I don’t know about you two, but this farm boy is early to bed, early to rise.”

  Waiting until her brother left the house, Celia turned to Gavin. “We have a dilemma,” she whispered. “How are you going to perform the duties of a bodyguard—”

  “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ll help you clean up the kitchen. After Nicholas goes to bed I’ll go back to my place, get my things and then I’ll come back here. The moment I leave I want you to activate the alarm. You’re going to have to give me the code so I can get back in.”

  Celia nodded like a bobblehead doll. She couldn’t believe a man she hadn’t known a week, a man who turned her on with a single glance, was going to move into her house for the summer. If she’d planned to seduce him, she wouldn’t have been able to come up with a less plausible scheme.

  “Okay, Gavin.”

  “Don’t look so worried, Doc. We’re going to have a lot of fun hanging out together this summer.”

  That’s what had Celia worried. They would have fun, and then what? At the end of the summer they’d go their separate ways to live their separate lives? Gavin would go back to protecting the rich and famous and once the trial concluded, she would go back to practicing medicine. What they would share for the summer would be placed in a box, covered, tied with a neat little bow and placed on a shelf never to be opened again.

  Once she’d recovered from the anesthesia and had remained awake long enough to recall how close she’d come to losing her life in the very hospital where she’d worked, Celia promised herself she would treasure each and every sunrise and sunset because her life had been spared when so many others had lost theirs.

  Leaning to her right, she brushed her mouth over Gavin’s. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  Gavin stared at the lush lips belonging to the woman with the dimpled smile. Everything about her pulled him in until he felt trapped in a force field from which he didn’t want to escape. No matter how he felt and was beginning to feel for Celia he knew their liaison would come to an end.

  He’d offered to protect Celia before Nicholas informed him about the break-in at her house. What had been imagined was now real and he was faced with a dilemma. Could he protect Dr. Celia Cole-Thomas and complete his assignment?

  Gavin maneuvered into the driveway to the two-bedroom time-share and parked. Reaching for his BlackBerry, he punched the speed dial for Bradley MacArthur.

  “Faulkner,” he said, identifying himself when hearing his supervisor’s greeting.

  “How are you, mountain man?”

  Gavin smiled. It wasn’t often Bradley exhibited a modicum of humor. “I’m good, Mac. I’m going to need your approval to change the base of operation.”

  “Talk to me, Faulkner.”

  He told him everything from meeting Dr. Celia Cole-Thomas, his accompanying her to a neighbor’s Memorial Day celebration, the unannounced visit from her brother and Nicholas’s invitation to spend a weekend at his horse farm in western Virginia.

  “Don’t hang up, Agent Faulkner. I want to check out something.”

  Gavin shook his head. Bradley MacArthur had morphed back into his role as an associate Bureau director. Mac must have placed his cell phone down next to a computer because he could hear the rapid tapping of keys.

  “Approval granted,” Bradley said in a strong voice. “Dr. Cole-Thomas is known and respected in and around Waynesville. You connecting with her will help you blend in and increase the odds of Prentice contacting you. Just be certain to let me know of any changes.”

  “Thanks, Mac.”

  “Just bring our man in, Faulkner.”

  “You…” Gavin couldn’t finish his sentence because his supervisor ended the call. It no longer mattered.

  He exited the truck and walked into the small house that was to have been his temporary domicile for the summer. Bradley MacArthur’s willingness to approve him moving into Dr. Celia Cole-Thomas’s vacation retreat nagged at Gavin. Was there a connection to the shootout in the hospital E.R. and other open cases in the Bureau files? He’d wanted to ask—before Mac had summarily hung up on him—if the gun used in the shooting was stolen, and if it was one in a cache linked to the brazen gang crisscrossing the country and targeting gun dealers.

  He made quick work of packing his clothes and net-book and of cleaning out the refrigerator. He’d purchased enough food to last only a couple of days, so there wasn’t much to throw away. Gavin stripped his bed, putting the linen in an army duffel bag along with the clothes he’d taken from the laundry-room hamper. From now on he would do his laundry at Celia’s house. He c
arried his possessions out to the truck, returned to the cottage to make certain he hadn’t left anything, turned off the lights, set the silent alarm, closed the door and pocketed the keycard. The sound of the door closing echoed loudly in the stillness of the night.

  When he drove away, Gavin felt as if he had closed the door on one phase of life, only to begin another. There was still the question of the whereabouts of his brother. If or when would he make contact? And if he found his brother, would that be the end of his relationship with Celia?

  Celia sat up straighter, her heart pounding in her chest when she heard the distinctive sound of the door being opened. Seconds later it went silent before another buzz indicated Gavin had deactivated and reset the security system.

  After Nicholas had gone upstairs to bed, she’d retreated to the back porch to watch television. Forty minutes into the Lifetime movie, she found herself dozing off. There had been a time before she’d been shot that she’d been able to work thirty-six hours before feeling fatigued. Now if she sat still more than half an hour she found herself dozing off.

  “Hey, Doc, where do you want me to put my things?”

  Celia turned off the television and slipped off the chaise. There was enough light from the lowest setting on a table lamp to make out the outline of Gavin’s broad shoulders spanning the doorway.

  Walking on bare feet, she closed the distance between them. “Follow me,” she ordered quietly.

  Gavin complied, staring at the outline of Celia’s hips in a pair of fitted jeans. She had just enough curves not to be mistaken for a boy from the back. He usually liked women with a more substantial booty, but he couldn’t complain about Celia’s chest. She had more than a mouthful or handful—and he had very large hands.

  He stopped at the staircase and picked up two bags: a calfskin carry-on and the other a matching Pullman; both were stamped with his initials. The carry-on held his computer, handcuffs, bulletproof vest and several clips of ammunition. Whenever he traveled by commercial aircraft, he had to be cleared before boarding the plane with the firearm and ammunition.