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Bianca wrapped her arms around her lover. She felt his hot tears on her throat.

“This last deployment, I killed a boy. I had to kill him. He had a bomb and he was going to blow up my men. I know I did the right thing, but for a second I saw me, just a little bigger than that kid, my heart filled with a fury someone older and supposedly wiser had put there, and I knew that the kid was also filled with a fury someone older and supposedly wiser had created…”

Bianca kissed him.

And kissed him.

Chay whispered her name and then she was all around him and he was driving deep into her, and there was nothing but the two of them in the entire universe.

• • •

Hours later, as they lay in each other’s arms with the moon shining through the windows, Chay remembered something Bianca had said.

She had called him “sweetheart.”

He was a grown man.

He’d known a lot of women.

None had ever called him that. He’d have bolted if one had.

But he wasn’t bolting tonight.

He was gathering Bianca as close to him as he possibly could, until he felt her heart beating against his.

Until he drifted to sleep with his woman in his arms.

CHAPTER TWELVE

They went out for dinner.

Chay had figured Bianca could use a change of scene, a touch of normalcy after the last two days.

And, he had to admit, his plan wasn’t entirely altruistic.

They’d made love, but they hadn’t had a date. Not unless you counted the night in Santa Barbara, and he damn well wasn’t going to count that.

Aidan’s travel agent sister had given him a list of restaurants.

“A bunch of places,” she’d said happily. “Everything from where you can get the best pizza to where you can dine très elegant while getting the feel of New York.”

Chay hadn’t had the heart to tell her that elegant wasn’t his style, but he’d saved the list and while Bianca dried her hair, he looked it over, read the thumbnail descriptions Aidan’s sister had provided next to each, and picked one that sounded intriguing.

He phoned.

The maître d’ was pleasant, polite—and very sorry to say that they were fully booked.

“I’m sorry, Mister—Mister—”

“It’s Lieutenant. Lieutenant Olivieri. And hey, I understand. Talk about last minute…”

“Lieutenant? You’re in the service?”

“Right. Look, I don’t suppose you could recommend—”

“Isn’t this amazing. Lieutenant Olivieri? My assistant just this second slipped me a note to tell me that we’ve had a cancellation. For a prime table, right next to the water. Sound good?”

Chay laughed. “Sounds great.”