Chapter 42
ETHAN
I stood by the hostess stand of the restaurant, having spotted Olivia sitting at the bar as she waited for me.
She wore a red shirt that hung off one shoulder and a pair of dark jeans, her hair down and beautiful.
She’d gone back to her original dark hair that I liked better.
And she had make-up on, like she wanted to look her best for me.
I could hardly stand it.
She was oblivious to me, but not to the guy sitting beside her.
They seemed to be having a conversation about why her arm was in a cast. He was probably a nice enough guy, and I couldn’t blame him for trying, but shit.
She was hopelessly out of my league, and most definitely out of that guy’s.
It was cute until he leaned subtly toward her.
There was that strange possessive streak again, the one that had first appeared in South Africa.
It drew me out of the crowded area and into the bar, so she could see all six-foot-seven of me.
There was a flash in her eyes, more than just simple recognition.
A single look that told me she was mine, which—thank fuck.
She was definitely stuck with me now.
“Hi,” she said when I came closer. “How’d your thing go?”
The friendly guy took one look at me, mumbled something about seeing his friend, and scurried away.
I moved to take the seat the guy had vacated. “It was fine. And yours?” Before she could answer, I changed my mind and stayed on my feet. “You know what? Hold that thought.”
I cupped her cheek, tilting her head up as I bent down and claimed her lips with mine.
This was the kiss I’d been sitting on since Landstuhl.
It caught her by surprise, but she didn’t push me away.
Instead, she melted into the kiss. She let out a sigh that seemed to be relief, and her warm, soft lips moved with mine, like she was just as eager to have this connection as I was. Perhaps even more.
When her tongue slid into my mouth and her hand curled around my neck, urging me to kiss her harder, alarms went off in my head. Public place. Not a good idea to get turned on right now.
Soon. Just not right now.
She looked woozy when our kiss ended, and, even though she was seated, she latched on to the bar to steady herself. I felt a smile spread across my face as I sat on the empty stool beside her, then gestured to her drink. Not bourbon, but beer.
“Osterh?gen?” I asked, amused.
She shrugged. “It was on tap.”
The hostess approached and directed us to our table, and once Olivia was seated across from me, I couldn’t wait any longer. “Can I ask what your meeting was about?”
Her gaze dropped to her menu that lay flat on the table. That wasn’t a good sign.
My mouth went dry. “Olivia.”
“You’re not going to like it.” She lifted her gaze to mine, her expression anxious. “Hendrix wants to recruit me.”
“Recruit you? To the company?” It took me a long moment to digest it, and I frowned. “You’re right, I don’t like it.”
It made sense. At thirty-five, she was still in the optimum window for recruitment. She had military experience and knew how to pilot. She spoke two languages, had shown a willingness to learn more, and an interest in living abroad.
Above all, she’d proven herself more than capable under pressure. I’d had that exact thought the morning we’d swapped vehicles with Fletcher. She would have made an impressive operative.
“You don’t think I could do it?” she asked.
I dropped my elbows on the table and leaned forward. “Jesus, I think you’d be amazing. But you have to give up a lot.”
Like the idea of this thing continuing between us. It’d be hard enough with one of us in the CIA, but both? Impossible. Again, she looked at her menu, not able to hold my gaze.
I did my best to keep judgment from my voice. “How seriously are you considering it?”
“I told them I’d think about it. I have a long-term job offer from Osterh?gen that I’m considering as well.”
“When do you have to make your decision?”
“Before the new year.”
Today was the nineteenth. It meant I had less than two weeks to make my case, and instantly I was thinking about plans. I leaned back in my seat and drummed my fingers softly against the tabletop until she stopped me, covering my hand with hers.
“Let’s talk about something else,” she said.
We’d slept together. Been to hell and back with each other. But we hadn’t been on a date together, and I didn’t want to mess up our first one.
Over our meal, we discussed her visit with her father, my psych evaluation, and then branched out to topics we hadn’t touched before. Music we loved. Food we couldn’t stand. What our siblings did for a living. It was foreign and exciting to have a normal conversation and get to reveal the real me.
After dinner, she excused herself to the bathroom, and I sent an email to Shawn. It was the middle of the night in Munich, but hopefully he’d have an answer for me tomorrow morning.
She came back to the table, slipped into her chair, and smiled warmly. “What now, Foster?”
It had a distinct ‘your place or mine’ tone I appreciated, but my shoulders slumped and it nearly killed me to say it. “Now we say goodnight.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Look, if you’re going to take Hendrix’s offer, we should stop here. You get that, right?” Because what I felt for her was already way too strong, and it would only intensify the more we saw each other.
She didn’t just look disappointed, she looked heartbroken. “Oh.”
“I’m not going to tell you what to do or stand in the way. If you want it, go for it. But before you make that decision, I need a favor.”
“What is it?”
“Are you heading back to Detroit tomorrow?” When she nodded, I added, “Cancel your flight and I’ll pick you up in the morning. Will you do it?”
She struggled to process what I was asking.
“I think you’ll like it,” I encouraged.
She swallowed a breath. “All right.”
The next afternoon, an Osterh?gen plane was waiting for us. I’d woken this morning to a response telling me the smaller jet was already enroute.
“Where are we going?” Olivia asked as we boarded. “Is it a long flight?”
“You’re welcome to try to make me talk.” I took the rear-facing seat across from the one she chose so we could look at each other during the flight. Her eyes filled with heat at my suggestion. But she was a good little passenger and buckled her seatbelt.
When we finished climbing and the plane leveled off, she shot me an evaluating look. “How’s your back?”
“It’s okay.”
The metal clicked as she unbuckled and stood, and two steps later she was seated in my lap, a leg on either side of me. The chairs were spacious, but it was still a tight fit—not that I was complaining. One of her hands slipped under my sweater so her warm fingers were on my skin.
“What are you doing?” I asked, hearing the smile in my voice.
“What do you think I’m doing?” she purred into my ear and her sultry voice shot straight to my groin. “Where are we going?”
“South.” I smoothed back her hair. When she turned to look out the window, it opened her neck to me and I set my mouth there.
“Why are we going south?”
Beneath my lips, I felt her pulse increase, and mine mirrored it. She’d changed me. I never used to get nervous when setting a plan into motion. “I’ve met some of your family. I thought you could meet mine.”
“The spy’s family,” she said, looking more than a little surprised.
“You’ve got three days to gather as much intel on me as you can. Good luck,” I whispered.
Her eyes were all seduction. “Tell me what you said in Croatian in Vitale’s office.”
I cupped a hand to her soft cheek, brushing my thumb over her full lips while setting my other hand on her waist. I stared at her, looking at the flecks of hazel in her green irises. “I told you that we belong together.”
She pulled back, and a mixture of excitement and unease washed over her face. “What? Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true, and you know it. Does it look like I’m lying?”
She studied my expression, but all she found was honesty. The muscles in her legs tensed when she rose off me and climbed away, and I allowed it because there was nowhere to go on this plane. She couldn’t run from me.
Her breath went shallow as she stumbled back to her chair across the way, and her accusing eyes cut into me, but I was prepared for this. It was about to get worse.
“Are you aware,” I said, “that you’re in love with me?”
Her eyes went so wide they were mostly white, and then anger curled them down to slits. The words came out like she was spitting bullets, that what I’d just said was borderline offensive. “I am not.”
I stood, stepped forward, and leaned over to set my hands on the armrest of her chair. My shadow fell across her as she peered up at me. Like the night in her loft in Munich, my face was only inches away. “Liar.”
Before she could protest, I kissed her.
I could taste the tension and doubt in her as she sat stock-still beneath me, and I used all I had to convince her to respond. Not just respond, but to see the truth she refused to accept. She was alive. She was capable of loving.
“I can’t,” she whispered, her eyelids falling shut, and she sounded more wounded than I’d ever heard her.
I held her face in my hands, tilting her back and when her mouth parted with a sigh, I took full advantage.
I used my tongue to trace her lips and then venture deeper inside, possessing her, filling her mouth as I tried to fill her head with thoughts of me.
I ghosted my fingertips down over the curve of her neck, her pulse racing a thousand miles an hour.
“I’ll show you that you can,” I promised.