Page 62 of Risk It All
That made her laugh. “All right.”
“And the day after that.”
“Are you booking me up?”
“Yes.” His smile faded into an intense look that warmed her from the inside out. “I want all your days.”
She rocked the swing so that her knees brushed against his. “I think that can be arranged.”
“Good.” Leaning forward, he placed his hands on either side of her legs, stopping the motion. She watched, still amazed that he was there, right in front of her, within grabbing distance. He moved closer until their lips were almost touching. Before he could kiss her, she stopped him with a hand against his chest.
“Hold on.” She leaned back and gave him her best stern-teacher frown. “I didn’t hear a word from you for aweek, and now you’re here, looking all sexy in your suit, trying to kiss me?”
She tried very hard not to find the way he ducked his head adorable. After spending so much time with tough-guy Henry, however, she couldn’t stop her heart from melting at his show of uncertainty. A bashful Henry was basically irresistible. Somehow, she managed to keep from folding.
“It took me longer than expected to get my life in order,” he said, settling back on the railing but holding her gaze. She marveled at howopenhis expression was, his impassive mask nowhere to be seen. The small glimpses she’d seen of this man while he was undercover were just a preview of who Henry Kavenski really was. “All the time we’ve spent together, I haven’t had anything to offer you. Just about everything about me was a lie—even my name.”
That startled her. She hadn’t considered that even his name wasn’t real. “What’s your name?”
“Benedict Henry Weaver.” His words came out in a rush, as if saying it was a relief. “Nice to meet you.” His smile—his real, true, not-undercover smile—creased his cheeks, and it was impossible for Cara to hold her stern frown in the face of the radiance of it.
“Nice to meet you, too, Benedict Henry Weaver.”
He winced. “Henry. Please.”
Swallowing a laugh, she nodded. “Good thing I don’t call you Kavenski anymore.”
“Yeah.” His smile slipped away as his expression turned earnest. “He’s gone, and now I’m just Henry Weaver, local FBI agent who’s not at all undercover, and who’s crazy in love with Cara Evelyn Pax.”
The words jolted her. This was the last thing she’d expected after his week of silence. “Youloveme?”
“So much. I don’t even care that it happened so fast. I love your kindness and the way your logical mind works and that stern-teacher voice you use sometimes and how you got so offended that I cheated at Battleship. I love how brave you are, and how you’re so loyal to your sisters.” He leaned in again. “So can I kiss you now?”
“As long as you promise never to leave again.” The memory of the last hellish days without Henry replayed in her head, allowing her to scowl at him in spite of the ecstatic butterflies dancing in her belly. “It’s been a rough week.”
“I’m sorry.” He grimaced as he palmed her cheek gently. “I wanted to be someone you’d consider being with.”
She smacked his shoulder lightly. “Dummy. Even when you were accused killer and bail jumper Henry Kavenski, I was seriously considering being with you. I love you.”
“I know.” That wry quirk of his lips was achingly familiar, and it did crazy things to Cara’s heart.
“You do, do you?” Although she tried to play it cool, her voice came out husky.
“Sure. You told me you don’tnotlove me. It’s the logical conclusion.”
She laughed before leaning forward and grabbing a handful of his very nice suit jacket. Tugging him close, she met his hot gaze. “Kiss me, Benedict Henry Weaver.”
“Happily.”
Epilogue
Norah Pax stared at the door. It was fairly nondescript, as doors went, but what was on the other side frankly terrified her. She paced the alley, five strides north and then five strides south, back and forth ten times until she was in front of the entrance again. She was relieved that there wasn’t any window for someone to see her strange behavior.
Just as she had that thought, the door to the neighboring business—a café—opened, and a man with a full garbage bag stepped into the alley. Giving her a curious but friendly look, he started to raise his free hand. The thought of having to make conversation with this stranger terrified her even more than what was behind the door. Ducking her head and pretending she didn’t see the guy, she yanked open the door in front of her and stepped inside.
It was…quieter than she’d expected. No rock music blared, and no muscle-bound men tossed their weights noisily back on racks. There were only mats and a ring and equipment neatly stacked against the far wall. It even smelled nice, not like the mix of body odor and vinyl that most gyms had.
Only one person was there—a very large, muscular person—and he was staring right at her, scowling.
“What do you want?” he barked.
She didn’t mind the directness. It was comforting, really, that he didn’t hide his purpose in politeness. “I need to learn to fight.”
“Why?”
“So I won’t be useless next time someone tries to blow up or shoot my sisters.”
His glower didn’t lighten as he studied her with eyes as dark as night. “Come in, then,” he finally snapped, and Norah started to smile.
This might just work out after all.