Midnight Kiss (Men of Midnight #7) - Lisa Marie Rice Page 0,17
bunch of his colleagues were married to beautiful women he would see often. And in his old life as a cop, his boss, commissioner Bud Morrison, was married to a good-looking woman. And an heiress. Not that you’d know it from Claire Morrison’s behavior.
So he should be used to female beauty. No reason to feel like he had two left tongues.
He sat, lifted the covers of the dishes and oh, man. The pepper steak and fries gave off smells almost as good as Hope coming out of the shower.
She leaned forward over her plate, closed her eyes, sniffed. “Oh wow. That smells delicious.” She was smiling, but her hands were trembling.
It knocked that clumsiness right out of him. “When was the last time you ate?” His voice came out harshly, almost as an accusation.
“Ate?” Her dark brows drew together in confusion, as if she didn’t recognize the word at first. Her eyes rolled up and to the right, trying to remember. “Ahhh … I was really anxious waiting for Kyle’s analysis results and my stomach just closed up. And since — since the accident. No.” She drew in a deep breath. “Since Kyle’s murder, and the murder of Geraldo, I’ve had two protein bars and a sandwich. There was food on the plane apparently but I just fell asleep.”
“I want you to eat every single bite,” he said seriously.
“Yes, mom.” Hope rolled her eyes, but she was smiling.
Picking up the bottle of wine, he half filled her glass then his. Only a finger for him. They were safe, but still. “It’s a good red from Napa Valley. Have you ever been?”
She sipped and sighed. “Oh man, yes, that’s good. Nope,” she answered his question. “Before today, actually, I’ve somehow never been further west than Chicago. I told you that when I got accepted at Stanford, my folks just went wild.” She put down the glass, eyes distant. Then shook herself. “God knows why. They insisted on me studying in Boston so hard I just gave in. That was when I thought maybe … maybe they wanted to see more of me. So weird, when we barely saw each other all the years I was at boarding school and MIT. But turns out they didn’t really want to see more of me. They just had a thing about travelling out west, I guess. Why are you still wearing your shirt? It’s warm in here.”
Luke knew how to switch gears. He had on a heavy flannel shirt that doubled as a jacket, and it was warm in here.
“I’m armed.” He watched her face carefully and saw the barely concealed wince. “I will stay armed. And I’ll sleep with my weapon close by. I didn’t want to freak you out, so I kept the shirt on.”
She was silent a moment, searching his eyes. “Considering the fact that you’re armed for me, to protect me, I think I will allow you to take that hot flannel shirt off. And by the way — thanks. Felicity texted me you’re volunteering to help me? You’re not a part of her company? I didn’t quite get it.”
“It’s a long story.” Long and sad and infuriating. “I am — was — a cop, ex-military, and my contract with the police force ends at the end of the month, but I’m on leave. And ASI has recruited me and I’m slated to start in two weeks, but am not officially on the payroll yet. So I guess, like an actor that’s between parts, I’m an operator between jobs.”
She cocked her head. “There’s a story there you’re not telling me.”
There was. He didn’t tell it to many. It was painful. “Hmm. It’s sad and bad.”
She looked him in the eyes. “I know all about sad and bad,” she said softly. “Tell me.”
He wrestled with himself briefly and lost. He was going to tell the story. For the first time, he suddenly realized. Everyone he knew had lived through it with him. He’d never told it to an outsider.
Maybe now was the time. Maybe now he had some distance. And to a sympathetic audience, as well. She was looking at him with sadness in those intelligent eyes, but interest as well. A good combo.
He was going to do this.
“Okay. I was in the military for almost ten years. The Army. Most of that time I was in the Rangers, which is —”
“SpecOps,” she said gently. “Yes. I could at one time recite the Ranger Creed by heart. At the NSA Emma,