Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

reason he couldn’t take care of his own child. He said he would, and I got all excited, thinking I was going to get to go with him.”
    Her stomach twisted with anxiety for the ten-year-old boy. “What happened?”
    “I didn’t see him again for a year.”
    “Nick…I’m sorry.”
    “He sent money—enough for me to play hockey, which I loved. I poured all my energy into that and school. Ended up with an academic scholarship to Harvard and played hockey there, too. That was my escape.”
    Listening to him, she wanted to give him everything he’d been denied as a child and wished she had it to give.
    “Anyway,” he said, running a hand through his hair, “someday hopefully I’ll have my own family and it won’t matter anymore.”
    And that , she thought, is my cue to go . She sat up and reached for her clothes at the foot of the bed.
    “It’s only seven. You’ve got time yet.” His hand slid from her shoulder to land on her hip. “I could make you some breakfast.”
    “Thanks, but I’ve got to go home, take a shower, get changed, check in at HQ,” she said as she jammed her arms into her shirt and dragged it over her head. Air and space , she thought, and we’re not talking about the museum . That’s what I need. Some air, some space, some perspective. Distance .
    Twirling her bra on his index finger, his full, sexy mouth twisted into a grin. “Forget something?”
    She snatched it away from him and jammed it into her pants pocket.
    Laughing, he reclined on the big pile of pillows.
    She felt the heat of his eyes on her as she ducked into the bathroom. Re-emerging a few minutes later, she found him out of bed and wearing just the sweats he’d had on the night before. The pants rode low on narrow hips, and that chest of his… It should’ve been gracing the covers of erotic romance novels rather than spending its days hidden behind starched dress shirts and silk ties. Tragic. Truly a waste of good—no, great —man chest.
    “You’re staring.”
    “And you’re hot. Seriously. Hot.”
    “Well, um, thanks. I guess.”
    His befuddlement amused and delighted her until she remembered that she’d been plotting her escape. Suddenly, morning-after awkwardness set in, leaving her tongue-tied and uncertain as she tugged on her sweater. “Good luck with your staff. Today. In Richmond.”
    “Thank you.” He reached for her hand, brought it to his lips. “Will you tell me what happens in Chicago?”
    “If I can, I will. That’s the best I can do.”
    “That’s all I can ask.” Releasing her hand, he caressed her cheek. “When will I see you?”
    Before she knew it the words were tumbling from her face as if her mouth was on autopilot. “There’s this thing tomorrow. Family dinner at my dad’s. If you want to come.” All but stuttering now, she added, “I’d understand if you didn’t want to because there’re so many of us—”
    He stopped her with a finger to her lips. “What time?”
    “Dinner’s at three.” Her cheeks grew warm with embarrassment. “But if you want to come earlier, we could take a walk. Check out the market. If you want.”
    “I want.” He slid his arms around her waist and brought her in snug against him. “I really want.”
    She should’ve been prepared by then for the way her legs turned to jelly when he kissed her in that particular proprietary way, but the sweep of his tongue, the pressure of his hands on her ass holding her tight against his instant arousal…no way in hell she could prepare for that.
    “So,” he asked, peppering her face and lips with kisses, “does this mean we’re together? I mean, you’re asking me to do stuff.” His teasing grin did nothing to offset the serious look in his eyes.
    With her hands on his chest, she managed to extricate herself. At the bedroom door, she paused and turned back to him. “I’ve crossed every line there is to cross here, Nick.”
    “I know that,” he said, his expression pained.
    “If the job requires it, I won’t hesitate to cross back.”
    “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
    Satisfied that he understood, she left him with a nod and a small smile.
    He followed her downstairs. “Sam?”
    She swung open the inside door. “Hmm?”
    Framing her face with his hands, he said, “Fly safely.”
    She winced.
    “What?”
    “I hate to fly. Hate it with a passion. I’ve been trying not to think about it.”
    Grinning, he leaned his forehead against hers. “Just close your eyes and try