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“Because you fell for her,” Casey said, her voice chiding. “You read her letters. You mooned over her for weeks. When you met her, you were a goner. Tell her the truth.”

“What do you mean, I mooned over her for weeks?”

“You did, Beckett, you bastard,” Casey said with a laugh. “You are such a dick. You’re in love with this girl and you couldn’t stop yourself.”

“I’m not in love,” I said, frowning. Love was a word I couldn’t face. Being in love was that feeling of being swallowed up in a warm ocean, the water blissful, but you are unable to breathe…

Kind of the way I felt when thinking of Miranda. When talking with Miranda. When lying naked with Miranda. …

Fucking Christ…

I spent the next day busy with the retreat, doing all these team building exercises designed to bring us together after the trauma of losing one of the founders, and half the staff. I tried to focus, but found myself distracted by thoughts of Miranda and the turmoil in my mind over what I should do about her.

I knew what Casey said was right. I had to confess.

But really, truthfully, what good would that do? I couldn’t tell her I was in the crash – my presence there was confidential. SAD ops were never publicized or admitted in public, nor were operatives permitted to reference any particular operation.

In truth, I had to deny I was even at the crash site by law. The only people who knew what I did in Afghanistan, outside of those directly involved, were Graham and Brandon and that was only because they were part owners of Brimstone.

I couldn’t have a relationship with Miranda. For fuck’s sake – her brand new husband died because of me. A brutal nasty death. It was because of my mission with SAD that we were in that part of Iran. Yes, Dan was always at risk when he was deployed, but this was purely to see if my tech worked in the field.

I should have just walked away. Not called her. Not seen her again.

She’d be pissed. She’d be hurt but she’d move on. Go back to Manhattan and her classes and then the FBI internship after Christmas. She’d meet some smart young FBI Special Agent and they’d fall in love…

Fuck.

I didn’t want to think of losing a woman like her.

So I didn’t.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Miranda

The next day went extremely slowly and it was all I could do to keep from squealing out loud with excitement that at the end of my afternoon shift, I’d be whisked away in Beckett’s limo or on his bike to his hotel room where I’d be treated to a double orgasm. And then some more. He’d promised we’d spend the entire evening in pleasurable pursuits and frankly, it had been so long since I had sex, I couldn’t wait.

Leah arrived for her afternoon shift as a cocktail waitress and she leaned against the bar and smiled at me.

“So¸ how did it go? I haven’t really spoken to you since lunch yesterday.”

“I’ve been busy,” I said and tried not to smile. “Looks like you’ve been busy, too.”

She grinned. “Brandon is an absolute doll,” she said and sighed. “He’s smart. And he’s extremely fun in bed as well as out.”

I laughed. “So is Beckett.”

“Oh my God,” she said and leaned against the bar, her arms reaching out to grab my apron. “Tell me you are no longer re-virginized!”

“De-re-virginized,” I said quietly, glancing around to make sure no one could hear me. “Twice. Hoping for more tonight, as a matter of fact.”

“Did you spend the night with him?” she asked, her face eager, eyes wide. “Tell me. Deets, please!”

“He’s very well-endowed and knows how to use all his body parts, shall we say,” I said, wagging my eyebrows, grinning like a fool.

“Oh, my God, Mira! I’m so happy for you. Finally,” she said and wiped her brow in mock relief. “I was beginning to think you’d become an old cat lady.”

“Not yet, at least. Can’t make any promises. Beckett is definitely easy on the eyes and body. I have a feeling there aren’t too many like him roaming around free…”