set his palms on either side of his gray placemat. “Your ex?”
Kyle was one topic A.J. hadn’t pressed her on in the last hour, and she had a feeling he didn’t want to cross that particular line without an invitation first. “Yeah. I just think it’s wild that you literally showed up at Porter’s house”—she glanced at the big white clock on the wall off to her right—“twenty-five hours ago, and you already know the truth about me. I’ve known Kyle for five years, and he’s clueless.”
“Guess you didn’t have much of a choice in telling me considering our situation.” He reached for his glass, and she fixated on his strong hand, catching sight of his tattoo as he drank his wine. There had to be a story there with the ink.
“I could’ve kept my secrets. Ditched you before Friday like I’d contemplated doing on our drive here.”
“Oh really?” A brow lifted as his glass returned to the table.
“Can you blame me? I’m working a top secret case to out Russian spies by tracking down a ledger that requires a key to decode it. To paraphrase Winters, it sounds like something from The Da Vinci Code. Most don’t believe the book exists. Who would want to believe me? Looks like my unit certainly doesn’t.”
“And they haven’t heard your side of things, but they will in time,” he said, conviction ringing through his tone.
“I guess this means we should probably talk about work now,” she said on a sigh, preferring relaxed-Ana, who jumped into ponds fully clothed with an almost naked cowboy, to uptight-Ana, who panic-cleaned spoiled sushi rolls.
“Probably, but can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer, but—”
“Why’d I marry Kyle?”
“Damn, you really are a mind reader.” A.J. shifted farther back in his seat and toyed with the stem of his wineglass between his fingers. His green eyes took a slow journey over her as if she was still in the robe and hadn’t changed into black cotton shorts and a red tank top.
“I married Kyle,” she began when remembering his question, not wondering whether he was able to see the outline of her nipples since she was braless, “because I thought I had to fit some perfect mold. Check off certain boxes. College, career, husband, and baby. I never got to the fourth one.” She took a moment to gulp back a large swallow of wine. “And he’s by the book like me. Likes lists and being organized. Well, I was by the book. I don’t feel that way right now.”
He was quiet for a moment, possibly mulling over her words. “Did you love him?”
Did I? “I think I did in the only way I knew how to at the time. Friendship. Companionship. A caring relationship.”
“That’s a lot of ships.”
She cracked a smile. Of course, he’d be able to provoke such a reaction during this kind of conversation. “But every time I tried to remove the wall I’d placed between us, to show him the real me, I’d shut down. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t think he’d be able to look at me the same way again after he learned the truth. He’d see me as the daughter of traitors forever. Like I was worried you’d look at me.” She paused for a breath. “But you were worth the risk,” she softly admitted.
A.J. sat taller, hands going flat on the purposefully distressed tabletop. His gaze connected with hers, and the look of lust in his eyes had her skin blushing instantly. “Well, I can tell you that from the moment I met you, I knew you were a woman I wanted to get to know.”
“And here you are getting to know me.” Her hand began to tremble ever so slightly as her past cut through their moment. She didn’t want to remember her parents in the way they died, or the reasons why they died. Not everything had been rainbows and sunshine, or gloom and doom.
“What are you thinking about?”
“My parents.” She really was an open book with this man, and he seemed fairly eager to keep reading.
“You’re allowed to still love them, you know.” He was on his feet and moving around the table before she had a chance to process his quick movements.
Oh. There were tears. That’s why he was before her, one knee on the floor as if proposing, the other leg bent back, his hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s been what feels like a forty-hour day. We can talk about work