Finders Keepers

Chapter 10

Sloan moved when he sensed he was alone in the bed. He also could tell that it was very early morning, not even sunrise. It was quiet. He sighed deeply and let his eyes squint open. There was the promise of another Southern California perfect day showing through the sliding-glass door of Olivia’s bedroom. It didn’t bother him that she had obviously gotten up but that he had no recollection of it happening. Sloan’s brow furrowed as he recognized that this never happened with him. In the Middle East during his service there, not knowing could be a deadly oversight. He had never been able to relax in Afghanistan. And he’d never slept well while in the country.

He quietly swung his body from the bed, sitting on the side and acclimating to the foreign space. The sliding door was slightly ajar, just wide enough for Olivia to have slipped through without making a sound. Sloan got up and padded barefoot to the door, but even before he’d reached it, he detected her sitting on a dark-blue carpet in the lotus position with her eyes closed. There was a not very deep canopy over the area where she sat, so she was protected if the weather was inclement…which it never was. She was wearing something loose and dark, her hands were cupped around each knee, and she was stone still. She’d tied a small kerchief around her head, holding back her hair in the same way as the tortoise-shell headband she’d worn to the wedding reception the day before. She looked so serene and beautiful in her meditation position. Sloan wondered how long she’d been at it.

A physical therapist had taught him meditation, under a great deal of stubborn protest, during his time in rehab after the bombing outside Kabul that kept him in a coma for four days. Sloan had learned quickly that meditation taught him how to ignore the pain of his burns, the extreme soreness in his trachea and esophagus after the intubation.

There was something sexy about seeing Olivia doing the same practice, and it was also calming. He was pretty sure they somehow had histories that warranted knowing and sharing. He yawned and turned away, not disturbing her. He wandered from the bedroom into the kitchen. He opened her refrigerator and found a container of cranberry juice. Searching for a glass, he poured it half-full and returned to the bedroom. Sloan was uncertain for a moment, not sure where to leave the restorative, but finally decided just outside the glass door, where Olivia would be sure to see it when her practice had ended and she came back inside.

He watched her for a moment longer, feeling a great deal of pleasure and affection for something they shared. And a calming awareness that what he’d suspected about Olivia from that first meeting was turning out to be true. She was a naturally calming presence.

Olivia silently repeated to herself the mantra that always ended her meditation sessions. On a sigh, she unfurled her body and gracefully stood up. She turned to the glass doors to reenter her room and immediately spotted the juice. She caught her breath knowing that only Sloan could have left it there for her. Olivia felt a catch in her throat, making it tight with emotion. She swallowed, blinking and clearing away the suggestion of tears. She hadn’t heard a thing. She continued to the door and bent to retrieve the glass. One of her thoughts was that Marcus had never been this solicitous, even after her accident. She peered into the room and saw that Sloan was in bed and appeared to be asleep. Olivia was stunned by his gesture, by his awareness. And she was so glad she’d taken the chance that her first impressions of him would be borne out.

She sipped the juice as she approached the bed. He was on his back, a hand anchored behind his head, the other across his chest. She finished the juice and placed the glass on the nightstand. It was nothing but instinct that told Olivia that Sloan was watching her.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Sloan moved just a little, tilting his head toward her. Olivia peeled off the floor-length black empire-waisted dress she sometimes wore when she meditated outside. She stood naked for a moment, her infinitesimal shyness hidden under the dim interior light. She was silhouetted in front of the sliding-glass door. She reached to untie the scarf.

“Leave it,” Sloan ordered quietly. He reached out his hand to her.

Following his request, Olivia dropped her arms and quickly got into bed with him. She waited until he coaxed her back into his arms. He studied her brown features in the soft morning light coming through the door. He kissed her forehead, leaned to kiss her cheek. Found her mouth and settled there on a deeply erotic and sensual kiss that drew a groan from him. He pressed deeper, undulating his body against her. There would be no stopping now.

Olivia loved when he massaged her lower back and cupped her buttocks to squeeze her to him. She loved when his tongue aggressively danced with hers and he effortlessly elicited a whimper, a moan from her. Then Sloan caught her off guard when he rolled onto his back and pulled her on top of him.

Sloan positioned her between his legs. He bent his knees to cradle her and never stopped their kissing until Olivia was starting to feel limp, hot…and ready. Sloan knew exactly what he was doing.

Her on top had its advantages. They were face-to-face. It was easy for her to bend forward to kiss him, for Sloan to run his fingers in her hair, onto her scalp, to hold her head to his kiss. It was easy for him to encourage her to find her own position of pleasure after he’d firmly thrust upward into her, gently pressing down on her buttocks to tighten the grip. To rotate her hips, or he’d rotate his until the grinding movement made her dizzy with longing. She had no idea how he was able to pace their movements, time the spiraling heat within them toward an inevitable end. But she’d already zoned out to her own needs, working against him as a delicious tightening took place in her pelvis and groin. Olivia tried to meet his thrusts. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing Sloan not to stop anything he was doing.

He was watching her, gauging the moment when he knew she was ready, her breathing labored, a joy shooting though her so strong that Olivia felt dizzy as the pulsing of her climax made her give a short cry, and Sloan pressed her down to his chest, and she could hear him. His thrusting and the strong lifting of his hips ended in his own release. She lay limp, drained, and Sloan’s ride came to a climatic end, and they lay panting against each other.

His skin was damp. His mouth was damp. Sloan squeezed her tightly as he pulled free, and still, Olivia could do no more than to lie inert on him while he cradled her.

They may have dozed then. She would never be sure. Neither of them having moved in a long while, Olivia heard his voice.

“Should I leave?”

The thought had not even entered her mind.

“Do you want to leave?” Her voice was quiet but bewildered.

“I asked first.”

She tried to shake her head but realized Sloan couldn’t see that. “No. Don’t.”

“Okay. A little longer.”

They didn’t fall back to sleep. And they stayed in each other’s arms.

In that moment Olivia felt she wanted him to stay forever.

It was a little before nine when they woke again. Any prior awkwardness was replaced with curiosity and revelation. A lot of lazy affectionate caressing. Slow sensual kissing. Talk was informational, and they did not think beyond wanting to know more about each other. Filling in the gaps of their curiosity.

“You said you were married?” Olivia asked, curious.

“A few years. Did I mention she’s also an agent? DC. She’s hoping to become the first female director.”

“Really?”

“The agency is not ready for that. It’s still too much a conservative bastion of testosterone and inflated male egos.”

“But you became one of them.”

They were sitting up in bed, more or less, but still in a loose embrace. They were silently reluctant to get up and get on with the day. Olivia brushed her hand, slowly, back and forth across the flat plain of his chest. Sloan sighed, glancing away, pensive.

“That was before. I liked what they stood for. Not for what they actually are.”

“Are you going to stay with it?”

She felt him shrug under her roaming hand. “I’m exploring my options.”

“I think you’re pretty good teacher material,” she murmured.

“My mother was a teacher. In every sense of the term. I learned a lot from her, and now…” He turned his gaze at her, with warmth and tenderness. “Now I’m grateful I paid attention.”

“She sounds wonderful and loving.”

“She was. She died a little over two years ago of breast cancer.”

Olivia snuggled closer. “You could follow in her footsteps.”

“Hmmmm. I’ll put it on my list.”

Olivia grinned at him, at the ready way he’d accepted the idea. But she really thought so. Sloan caressed her cheek, the slumberous gaze shifting suddenly.

“I’ll shower. Soon.”

She giggled. “You said that a half hour ago. Whenever you want. Maybe I should make coffee?”

“Why don’t we go for breakfast? Or lunch?” Sloan suggested.

“Do you really want to drive somewhere just to eat?” She was skeptical. Olivia liked exactly what they were doing together, right where they were.

“Frankly, I’d rather spend the time like this. We can talk.”

“We are talking.”

“Right. So how come you know about intubation? Being in shock?”

Olivia didn’t pretend not to know what Sloan was talking about. And there was no point in denying it. Someone as quick and intelligent as Sloan, trained in interrogation and analysis of facts would pay attention and figure it out. What she seemed to know…and how did she know it?

“I started medical school but never finished. My… I don’t think my heart was in it.” Olivia shifted her body from his chest, within the circle of his arm. Her back now against him. Sloan lay still, listening. “I think I felt some pressure. My father was an internist, my mom an ICU nurse. Jackson went into radiology. So…”

“You didn’t think you had a choice?”

Olivia sighed. “It’s not like anyone ever suggested that I study to be a doctor. And I certainly learned a lot from my family, especially my dad. I got interested in teaching after volunteering in a teen literacy center when I was an undergraduate. But I did start medical school and learned after my second year that it wasn’t a good fit. I dropped out and went on to get a master’s in education. Then I met Marcus. He had finished medical school and was in his residency. He studied under Jackson for about six months. That’s how we met.”

She suddenly chuckled quietly at some private joke or revelation.

“I didn’t mind that I had stepped out of Marcus’s field. He was a star, and he enjoyed that. But as I began to find my own tribe in education, he wasn’t impressed with my accomplishments. Things got really…tough…when I got into a terrible car crash. Marcus seemed to lose every bit of bedside manner with me. I was badly injured but nothing life-threatening. But he behaved as if the care and time I needed were just a huge inconvenience.”

Sloan sighed and shifted, and Olivia could almost sense his surprise, even dissatisfaction, with the way her husband had responded.

Olivia calmly but succinctly told Sloan about her vehicular encounter with a Mack truck in which she was the loser—a totaled car, deployed airbags, a broken arm and back…in two places.

She’d lucked out in that her broken back didn’t involve her spine and she hadn’t required surgery. The bad news was that the recovery was complicated and protracted. Nearly two months in rehab. Incredibly Marcus had only seen what happened to her in terms of how it affected him. Olivia decided further details were pointless and let go of Marcus’s shortcomings. Like he’d waited until she was out of rehab and once again home to let her know the marriage wasn’t working for him. He was busy. He’d gotten a prized assignment for his residency. He was being interviewed and profiled and asked to speak at prominent medical school programs of Black colleges and universities. Marcus hadn’t denied her anything she needed toward a full recovery…except himself.

Olivia was not so much worn out after responding to Sloan’s curiosity as much as saddened by having to repeat the whole episode. She would never understand how having a car accident that wasn’t her fault ultimately led to her divorce. Jackson had been appropriately outraged by Marcus’s handling of the situation, and his sister, but Jackson had not overly coddled her either after the accident. Olivia had to get back to work. She had to get on with her life.

“I’m sorry,” Sloan said quietly.

Sloan was not going to coddle her, either. She was grateful.

His smartphone rang, and the mechanical sound seemed so out of place in the intimacy they’d created. He quickly got out of bed, walking unabashedly naked from the bedroom and returning almost immediately with his jacket. He was digging in the pocket and retrieved his phone.

“Sloan,” he said simply.

Olivia was caught by how smoothly he had switched personas from lover to the man used to being in charge. He made no attempt to hide the call—personal or business—from her. He sat on the side of the bed, bending forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. Olivia threw him a curve ball because she knew he wasn’t expecting her to come up on her knees, behind him, and gently plant a kiss on the back of his shoulder. But Sloan acknowledged the caress with the briefest turn of his head, even as he continued his call. He reached one hand behind him to stroke her thigh.

She went to the bathroom with the need to examine herself in the mirror. Surely there would be obvious changes. Had she gotten a bit taller, her breasts perkier with Sloan’s touch? Had he left a mark of his presence that made Olivia look rejuvenated? She touched her cheeks, turned her head one way and then another. She stared straight ahead into her own eyes, dark and shining. And her smile. Sloan said she smiled all the time, a subtle show of awareness. Olivia was pleased. She had been smiling for him.

He was still on the phone when she returned to the room. Olivia went searching for her purse from the day before in search of her lip balm, her comb, and she found the fortune cookies that Sloan had given her from the reception. She’d already unwrapped one, devoured the cookie, and was reading the sliver of paper when Sloan finished his call.

“No emergency. Just updates on a few cases.”

He put the phone aside and twisted his body to lie next to her, on his stomach, to see what she was doing. Olivia silently handed him the paper.

“‘Now is the time to try something new.’ Well, you’ve certainly done that,” he said with sly inference.

“What about you?” Olivia asked.

Sloan sighed and rolled on his back, looking at the ceiling. “Olivia, I don’t buy into fortune-cookie philosophy.”

“You’re not supposed to buy into them. You’re supposed to see if any of them hold a grain of truth. You would know instinctively if there was any. Didn’t you just say that mine rang true?”

“That was different. We’d just finished…” He stopped. He turned back over, taking the paper from her hand and silently reading it to himself again.

He gave it back to her and pulled himself up to sit beside her. Reluctantly Sloan reached for his jacket and pulled out the three wrapped cookies he’d kept from the day before. He ripped into the wrapping of one, broke the cookie apart, but discarded it, pulling out the fortune slip. He read it out loud, as if he was just doing so to placate her.

“‘There is a true and sincere friendship between you both.’” He sat staring at the paper. He gave it to Olivia. “I don’t think I want to bet my future on this.” Still, he made short work of removing the other two fortunes from the other two cookies, reading them before turning them over to her. “What are you going to do with them?”

“Hold on to them. You never know.”

“I do.” He swept everything off the bed.

Sloan maneuvered to the top of the bed. He hauled Olivia up by her wrists, causing her to laugh at his He-Man action. But then he closed his arms around her and kissed her with purpose. The change in them both was instant. She enthusiastically returned the kiss, rubbing her breasts, her legs against his. Sloan controlled the kiss, his tongue playing with hers and then delving deeper and slowly to elicit the reaction he wanted. And just like that Olivia’s fortune came to mind. Try something new.

He caressed his hand over her belly, sensing the way her skin contracted as his touch stroked over the nerves. He continued to her breast, feeling the nipple harden. Olivia sighed and rubbed herself against him.

Sloan freed his mouth and whispered into her ear. “What would you like?”

Olivia sighed again, her head falling back on his arm. She didn’t answer but maneuvered onto her back. He watched her chest rise and fall. He massaged her nipples gently. And then Sloan slid his hand down Olivia’s torso. She was breathing fast, and she lay languid. Helpless. He deftly, slowly, went farther to cup and explore between her legs. His fingers searching had as much of an effect on himself as on Olivia. He groaned, closing his eyes and continuing his ministrations on her body. His penis erect and ready, but he held off.

Try something new…

With that thought in mind, Sloan twisted to reach for another condom. In quick order he was done and shifted over her. Olivia drew up her knees and he settled naturally between her legs, the same as they’d done in reverse earlier that morning. This was the old-fashioned way, and he found his way into her with no coaching or assistance. She hugged him close, lifting her pelvis and falling into a rhythm that was a rocking and swaying, a pushing and withdrawal, while they kissed and made intimate little sounds that spurred them on.

Olivia, maybe inadvertently, made a move with her hips, and it pushed Sloan over the edge. He gritted his teeth, unable to hold back. He slowed his movements but kept moving with passionate purpose. He put his hand between them, and the moment he touched Olivia privately, she careened into a climax that caused her body to go limp under him as she was overcome with a euphoria that pulsed deep from within.

Olivia made herself busy changing the linens on her bed, refusing Sloan’s offer to help. She knew he wouldn’t understand and was relieved when he went to shower, instead, in preparation for dressing and heading home.

But the ending of their little sequestered twenty-four-hour tryst was starting to have an effect…and she didn’t think it was a good one. She needed the silence while Sloan showered to deal with the feeling of coming down from a high. What they had together had been extraordinary, in her experience, and Olivia was afraid of losing any of it.

They’d come together so fast, so smoothly, so physically that Olivia now felt as if they were being rent apart by their separate lives, work, and responsibilities. Were they going to be able to keep up the magic conjured out of their intimacy and their feelings for one another once they said goodbye at her door?

Was Sloan having the same worrying thoughts of what next that she now found herself struggling with? Being together had been a culmination of attraction, mystery, and secret desires that had bloomed beyond her expectation. It had been wonderful. It had been exactly what she’d hoped for. Sloan had not disappointed, even if she had questioned his intent up until the very moment afterward when he’d whispered, “Are you okay?”

She’d put the black maxi dress on again and went to her living room to wait for him. When Sloan appeared, quietly and fully dressed, they faced each other across a void that Olivia feared they’d never be able to bridge. He had not strapped on his ankle holster again and held the weapon and its holster in his hand. Sloan slowly approached her, bending to place his weapon on the coffee table. He slipped his arms around her in a light embrace.

“You look like a goddess,” he murmured.

Olivia sighed, the wonder in his voice reassuring her. She smiled and looked into his light eyes. “And you look pretty in pink.” His brows shot up, and she was positive he would smile. But Sloan only clenched his jaw, one of the signs she’d come to recognize as a sign of him controlling his emotions. Now Olivia knew he was pleased and amused by her comment. He tightened his arms a little, staring into her eyes.

“I’m trying to find an excuse to stay that you will agree to.”

Olivia shook her head. “You can’t, and I wouldn’t let you. Even if I did want you to. You’re busy saving humanity from itself and its worst impulses, and I’m trying to save some young lives from derailing.”

Sloan nodded and kissed her forehead before stepping away. “Can’t top that.”

“ And…maybe we both need a little time to…reflect. Get some perspective on last night. This morning.”

“I don’t need to. I understand exactly what happened. I wasn’t disappointed, Olivia.”

“Me either.”

“Good.” He picked up his gun and walked to the door.

Olivia didn’t move, watching as Sloan was about to leave and feeling an unexpected panic and determination fighting within her. She wasn’t going to succumb to her own worst fears. She wasn’t going to make up a story to which she couldn’t see an ending. When Sloan opened the door, he turned to her a final time to say goodbye and stopped when he must have seen the deer-in-headlights stare she couldn’t stop.

He uttered something and came back to her, crushing her in his arms and whispering in her ear, “We made it this far. We’re off to a great start, right?”

Sloan didn’t wait for her answer, and in any case, she didn’t have one, too afraid of jinxing everything. He kissed her with great feeling and depth so that she couldn’t forget and she’d have this moment to replay if doubt stepped in.

“I’ll call you,” Sloan said simply.

And then he was gone. Olivia was unprepared for the space that he’d occupied and filled to feel so empty now that she was alone.

It finally came to Sloan that Olivia’s seeming reticence as he was leaving her on Sunday was not about regret that they’d found themselves past a kind of courtship phase and into the real deal of feelings and a possible budding relationship. He’d begun to wonder if she thought their intimate time together had been a one-off and that, somehow, it would change the intensity of his pursuit, that he’d quickly lost interest. Well, it had changed the intensity, but not in the way he suspected Olivia believed.

They had actually overcome curiosity and arrived at a kind of aha moment. At least he had. For Sloan it had solidified that his emotional instincts about Olivia had been right on target from the beginning. That sparked a possible truth that maybe he’d figured out what he was looking for. He’d left her, after a very satisfying day, feeling an unexpected hopefulness, maybe more than that—too soon?—relieved and sure of what he was looking for. It had not been easy getting here, and that had been even before he’d ever met Olivia Cameron. He had begun to wonder if his expectations were too high. Were so many women really all the same? Had they all become stuck together in a pool of monotony and little individuality? Except for Valerie, his ex. She had been consistently clear about her expectations from the moment they’d met. But now he knew he’d been looking for the wrong things in her as well. After they met Quantico, he thought he’d really lucked out in finding someone who understood service and commitment. It was a while before he realized Valerie was referring to herself—not to him…not to them. Someone who was confident could also translate as single-minded and determined. Someone who was fearless could also be bossy and impatient, unsympathetic.

That did sound very much like how Olivia described her ex-husband.

Sloan wondered, now, if Olivia was feeling less than he was. Should he try for a replay, getting together with her again—soon—so that the aura was not lost, or give her a little more time to see, on her own, that being together had been entirely, euphorically, real? Belatedly, he wished he’d called her after he’d gotten home. In hearing her voice, he would have known from her tone, cadence, and subtle shading how she was feeling. They could have reviewed the time together. Reminisced…been reassured.

Sloan also found himself reviewing the whole she’s-Black-and-I’m-white thing, now that they’d gone all the way, to decide if that fact made any difference in where he was now. A few hours of late-night, intense rehashing of race had not been a factor in his thinking. Or his feelings.

Sloan sat forward, over his keyboard, and made a Herculean effort to concentrate on the organized internal posting update on current agency cases. They were listed by date and order of urgency or prospects for violence. But there were constant interruptions from the right side of his brain as he tried to relive the experience of making love to Olivia, the sweet and moving way she’d responded to him, not holding anything back in showing how much she’d been affected by them together.

He realized she was a little hesitant but brave and everything worked. She only needed practice.

He had not been disappointed.

But what if Olivia now had second thoughts, was questioning his motives, or her own interests had been spent?

There was a quick rap on his open door.

“Hey. Did you get the news about those bank robbers who’ve been making merry through the county for the last two years?”

“What about them?” Sloan asked crisply, forcing his focus away from his thoughts about Olivia.

“The mother of one of them gave her son up. He did something monumentally stupid and bought an expensive car and paid cash. Mom knew he could never afford it and that he lied when he told her he’d won the money at a casino in Vegas, where he took his girlfriend for a weekend. He’s never had enough money to treat his girl to anything, let alone to gamble with.”

“Is he in custody?”

“Yeah, LAPD has him. They’re working on getting him to flip on his partner. They don’t think it’ll take long.”

“Don’t recall how much stolen money is involved, but the department will let us know if we have to take over.”

“Right. Thought you’d want to know,” the colleague concluded before leaving.

The official interruption was enough to set Sloan back on track, and he had a mostly productive day…until it approached three o’clock and he knew Olivia would be finishing her school day. With no particular plan in mind, he called the school. Lori, Olivia’s assistant, answered.

“Hi. It’s Sloan Kendrick. Is Ms. Cameron available? I’d like to speak with her.”

“Hi, Agent. She’s not available at the moment. But she’s around somewhere. School lets out in half an hour. She might hang around for an after-school activity. Can I have her call you?”

He was embarrassed and found it foolish that he was trying to be so proper after what had gone on between them in a less than twenty-four-hour period.

“I appreciate that. If she has the time.”

“I’ll give her the message.”

He was only mildly disappointed that Olivia wasn’t immediately available. Sloan went back to work, wishing that his day were a bit crazier so that he’d have no time to think. It was almost six and Sloan was headed to his car, having passed security out of the building, when a call came in. By then he was distracted by a number of other calls he’d been expecting as a follow-up to information on a possible abduction—the attempt had been thwarted, but the details had piled up in the course of the day.

“Sloan,” he responded, unlocking his car.

“Hi. It’s Olivia.”

Sloan stopped, leaned back against the door. “Hey,” he said, his voice a kind of surprised drawl. Despite having her on his mind much of the day, she’d managed to catch him off guard.

“Is this a bad time?”

“Perfect. I’m just leaving the agency for the day.”

“Oh. Sorry I couldn’t call earlier.”

“It’s Monday. We both have busy jobs. All is forgiven,” he spontaneously tacked on and was rewarded with Olivia’s quiet laughter.

“Thank you.”

Sloan was listening very closely, trying to gauge any emotion from her. Any hint in her voice of how she was feeling toward him, about the day before.

“How are you doing?” he quietly questioned, his voice rough and cracked.

She signed over the line. “Well…I…I’m…” She sighed again.

“It’s okay. This isn’t an interrogation, Liv. It’s just you and me.” No response. “Want me to go first?”

“Yes.”

He almost didn’t hear that. “Okay.” Sloan opened his car door and slid in behind the wheel. It was private there. He only wanted her to hear what he had to say. “I want you to know that the time I could be with you was… It was very special.” Quiet. “The thing is, just cuddling Sunday morning was…amazing. And a first for me. It was peaceful and…” He let his voice drop, surprised by his own revelations. “It just felt so good to hold you finally.”

“Do you really mean that? You’re not just saying that because—”

“I’m saying that because it’s the truth.”

“Oh…Sloan…”

He frowned. “Were you worried?”

“I was sure you’re used to something else, something more…you know…passionate and exciting and…and…”

“Olivia…it was passionate, and it was exciting. I wish I could be telling you this in person. I called because I wanted to tell you how the seventeen hours and twelve minutes we were together really rocked.” He thought maybe she made a mewing sound of contentment. “I wish it had been longer.”

“Maybe…next time?” she suggested.

Sloan closed his eyes and breathed with relief. “You don’t have to be afraid to admit it to me. To be honest, I think I was a little afraid to call you last night. What if I’d hurt you? What if I didn’t get you what you wanted or needed?” He heard a laugh from her.

“Don’t you remember that movie when the heroine reminded the hero that she was responsible for her own orgasm? Without your patience and gentleness and caring, I might have failed. I didn’t. We didn’t.”

“That’s the best compliment my male ego has received in a long while.”

“Liar.”

He snorted.

“You know, sooner or later you’re going to have to let yourself go and just laugh. You know you want to, and…”

“Olivia…we were great together. That’s what I wanted to tell you. I’m glad it happened the way it did.”

“Yes. I agree.”

“So what are my chances of seeing you this week?”

“Hmm. Iffy. I’m on my way to meet my girlfriends for drinks. They want to weigh in on what kind of car I should buy. They don’t know I’ve pretty much made up my mind.”

“For what?”

“BMW. Jackson thought it was a good choice for me. And I have an appointment to meet with a representative of The Millionaires Club. I think I told you I want to use some of the money to start some sort of funding.”

“For your students?”

“That’s right.”

“Nice. So where do you and I fit in?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m free after that. Want to come for dinner?”

“You know what that will lead to, don’t you?”

“Jackson says I’m sometimes slow, but I’m not dim.”

“I’ll have to have a talk with your brother. You’re neither.”

“He was teasing.”

“Good. Just let me know when. And if you’re up for it, I thought we could do something together this weekend.”

Olivia chuckled. “I’ll write that on my dance card.”

When Olivia was directed to the suite booked by The Millionaires Club at The Ritz-Carlton hotel in downtown LA, she mused that it was probably the one and only time she’d ever have the opportunity to be in the rarified enclave of the very rich. It hadn’t yet sunk in that she could now be considered among the very rich. The setting was très elegant, super modern, with expensive designer furnishings, but to her liking the hotel bordered on sterile. This was not her idea of comfortable.

The suite for the three-year-old foundation she was about to be introduced to was more to her liking. There was a table just inside the open doors, off of the exclusive elevator bank that served as a gateway to the suite. Olivia was greeted warmly and given a packet containing information about the monetary club, its founder and CEO Patrick Bennett, with some profiles of men and women who’d already become members. She was welcomed at the door by a woman and taken to an alcove reception area where a couple were already seated, presumably waiting for their turn to meet with a rep. Light refreshments were available, and a selection of printed testimonials from sponsors or recipients of the foundation’s largesse were provided for review. Olivia, so far, was impressed.

Some of the material was familiar to her thanks to the incredible research by Mallory, but Olivia found the testimonials to be the most impressive. When it was announced that she would now be seen, she was escorted to another room of the suite, where a tall and handsome man stood to greet her. She recognized him immediately as Patrick Bennett…in the flesh. His smile was open and friendly, and when he took her hand to shake it, his was warm. Olivia couldn’t help but return his smile, it was so sincere. And for a moment Patrick Bennett reminded her of Sloan.

There was absolutely no physical resemblance. Patrick Bennett had the posture and movement of a former athlete. Sloan stood erect, very military in posture, and moved silently, carefully, fully aware of his surroundings and those near him, like someone used to covert activity, possibly stalking, staying under the radar. An operative. A soldier. It was with her that he was a slightly different person. Capable of kindness, humor, even when he tried desperately to hide it. Sloan was hyper-alert and observant. But he was also incredibly tender and gentle…and loving with her. It was the most exciting discovery that Olivia had made about him.

“Mrs. Cameron. Great to meet you finally. Thanks for coming in today.”

Olivia grinned at Patrick Bennett’s natural exuberance. It was very attractive, and she liked him at once.

“Thanks for arranging for me to come in. And it’s Ms. Cameron. I’m divorced.”

He cringed in a sweet way. “Oops. Off with the head of the person who got that wrong on your intake form.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t expect penitence.”

He laughed outright. This man is a winner, for sure. Olivia considered the irony of that.

“I’m relieved. I think I’m getting better at thinking first before I speak,” he said wryly.

“You’re fine, Mr. Bennett. Just call me Olivia. No chance of mistake there.”

The friendly chatter went on for a moment more, and Olivia knew that Patrick Bennett was appraising her every bit as much as she was him. It made everything so much easier for her that he was charming and somewhat informal. He didn’t take the seat behind his desk but the empty chair in front of it, next to her.

“Tell me a little bit about yourself. How did you come into your extra cash, and what are your ideas of what you’d like to do with some of it? It’s okay if you need more than twenty-five words to get all the details in.”

Olivia grinned at him again and then began to answer his questions. He listened intently, nodding his head or arching a brow at salient points. He didn’t interrupt her or fidget or get distracted by conversation or laughter beyond his little impromptu office. But there was one moment when a small interruption got his attention and he turned to a young woman who’d quietly approached the door.

“Give me a moment.”

Patrick smiled at Olivia but stood to have a few words with the woman at the door. Just beyond her, a young boy was chatting with an adult from the organization, as he stood next to a stroller with a baby, gazing around in curiosity at all the activity.

Olivia quickly transferred her gaze to the young woman. She knew immediately that she was biracial, with a tan complexion and light brown eyes that were a little yellowish. She smiled pleasantly at Olivia, said something briefly to Patrick, who nodded and waved as the woman gathered the children and headed for the outer doors. Patrick took his seat again.

“Sorry for the interruption. That was my wife, Jean. She’s taking the kids to spend the day with my sister and her family out in Irvine. You were about to say?”

“She’s very pretty,” Olivia commented, because that had also struck her right away. Patrick didn’t respond beyond a pleased smile and nod of his head. Olivia refocused and made final comments about her intentions if she joined The Millionaires Club.

“You know from the information I submitted to your organization I run a charter school. My students are very bright and very capable but are coming from behind the eight ball and could use a few breaks to help them level the playing field. They need to understand how important education is to their future. They need to learn responsibility and focus…and hard work. They need to know it’s not a cakewalk, but they’re entirely up to the challenge.

“I want to set up a fund of some kind that rewards scholarships or fellowships or gives grants that could help them in the next step toward independence and accomplishments.”

“Well, it sounds simple enough,” Patrick said confidently. “What you want to do is pretty straightforward. To be honest, all you’d need to do is let us know how much you want to invest in your program and how many rewards you want to give each year. Your start-up money is modest, but you can do a lot with it, and it will grow as part of our overall investments. Maybe we can fashion the gifts for your funds depending on the complexity of the need. College versus a specialty training. Internships with stipend versus limited employment.”

Olivia was relieved that Patrick understood so well what she wanted but was also able to break her concept down in simple language. Their meeting was over in under an hour. He personally walked her to the entrance of the suite, stood chatting with her another fifteen minutes before thanking her for her time.

“Someone will draw up a proposal and fund plans for you to review. You should have your attorney go over our submission in detail, but call us if you need help or more details. And I won’t be offended if you’re not interested in joining the club. It’s not for everyone.”

“I’ve already read quite a bit about your work since the founding of the club. I’m comfortable with what I’ve learned, but I’ll take your advice about reviewing your documents.”

“I’m confident enough that what you want to do fits into our mission statement to say, Welcome aboard.”

He waved her off in a friendly fashion, and Olivia left feeling she was close to achieving what she’d set out to do with a lot of money that wasn’t even really her own.