Page 107 of Facing the Enemy

“It’s the closest to a Christmas celebration that we’ll probably get,” he said.

“All right. But I don’t feel much like wearing a red bow in my hair.”

He took my hand. “Maybe we need to forget the tragedies for a while and remember the season. But the decision is yours.”

His compassion stopped any protest. “I’ll be ready. With all we’ve been through, you are my gift.”

Close to five, after a two-hour nap, I received a call from the doorman about a flower delivery. He offered to have the desk clerk bring them up. Ever cautious, I didn’t open the door until I saw him. Living the life of an FBI agent kept me in continuous caution mode.

The portly desk clerk handed me a dozen red roses with baby’s breath, greenery, and arranged in a crystal vase. “Enjoy. Merry Christmas.”

I responded with the same words. Glad he hadn’t opted forSeason’s greetings. I closed the door and set the bouquet on my kitchen table. The flowers’ intoxicating fragrance filled the apartment. I opened a small, white envelope and pulled out a card.

Risa, looking forward to our dinner. You are my Christmas blessing.

I trembled and tears filled my eyes. Amid one tragedy after another, had we found what I’d always dreamed? How like God to shine His light when I least expected.

Or maybe I anticipated too much, and Gage understood this Christmas marked another first and he wanted to make it special. I texted him because I feared I might cry like a sixteen-year-old.

The roses are beautiful. Thank you so much. See you soon.

Within moments his response sailed into my phone. A smiley face emoticon.

All the while I got ready, I lingered on tonight being our first real date. I chose an off-the-shoulder red dress, not my usual black or navy blue. A little short but we weren’t going to the office.

My heels were a little tall, but we weren’t going to the office.

My makeup a little extra on the eyes and lips, but we weren’t going to the office.

At seven, he called from the lobby, and I gave permission for his access. Waiting for him to arrive, I paced the floor. This was Gage, the man who’d seen me at my worst ... many times. The man who’d cried with me when a child didn’t survive abduction. The man who’d laughed with me at stupid things. The man who loved me, and I loved him.

The doorbell rang, and I jumped.

Pull yourself together, Risa, before you make a fool of yourself over roses.

I opened the door. Gage’s mouth stood agape.

I touched my throat. “Is something wrong? Should I change? Is this a bit much?”

He laughed. “You are stunning. Beautiful. You said no to a red bow, but this is soooo much better.”

“Great.” I tugged on his navy-blue sports coat, urging him to enter my apartment.

I loved his smile, the one he only gave to me. “I feel like a kid at Christmas.”

“You are a kid. And it is Christmas.”

Seated at the restaurant, I gazed into those blue-gray eyes that held me captive. Gage would call me cuffed, and I fit the description.

“Thank you again for tonight.” I gestured around the South American restaurant. “And my favorite place to celebrate. The food is excellent, and all the decorations have caused me to forget our case. What’s the occasion?”

“Celebrating us with our first real date.”

I startled. “It is. I mean it’s not a stakeout or sweeping a building or facing the SAC.” Laughter hit me from my toes up.

He joined me. We were hysterical. No restraint. My normal introverted, observational self had drowned in the soup.

Gage took a breath obviously to stop the laughter. With little success. “We are going to get thrown out of here,” he finally managed.