Page 9 of The Agent

M ARLEY WAS WIDE AWAKE and dressed for manual labor when the doorbell rang the next afternoon.

She’d taken a power nap when she got home from the hospital, and her alert state was actually a bit of a surprise.

There had been a massive car accident on Interstate 5 and half the nurses from the respiratory unit where Marley usually worked had been reassigned to the E.R.

for a couple of days to tend to the onslaught of victims. Marley was one of them, and she’d been running around like a chicken with its head cut off for the past nine hours.

Yet here she was, bright-eyed and ready to paint her kitchen. Figure that one out.

Okay, well, maybe it wasn’t that hard to comprehend, considering who she would be painting the kitchen with.

She opened the door and there he was, wearing a pair of faded blue jeans and a black T-shirt. The shirt clung to his muscular chest, a sight that made Marley’s heart race like a Formula One car. Darn it, why did he have to be so attractive?

And why had she let him kiss her? They’d only just met, for Pete’s sake. Only a couple days ago she’d been telling Gwen she wanted to take things slow when it came to her love life, that getting intimate with a stranger scared her. And what had she done? Gotten intimate with a stranger.

“Hey,” Caleb greeted her. His deep voice had a sexy rasp that brought a rush of heat to Marley’s belly. “Ready to paint?”

She gestured for him to come in. “Ready, yes. Excited about it, no.”

His lips quirked and she instantly focused on his sensual mouth. Her legs trembled as she thought about the kiss they’d shared. The memory of Caleb’s warm mouth and skillful tongue ignited a charge of heat through her body, hot little flames that licked at her skin.

“Tough day at work?” he asked as he followed her inside.

“Very tough,” she admitted. “I was assigned to the E.R. because there was a huge accident this morning. A tour bus taking twenty people to a casino collided with an eighteen-wheeler.”

“I saw it on the news. Was it as bad as it looked?” Caleb asked.

“Worse. Seven dead, twelve injured.” She led him into the kitchen, where she’d already set up all the paint trays and rollers they’d need.

“How do you do it?” His voice was low and laced with awe. “How can you look at so much death and carnage day in and day out?”

“I like helping people,” she said simply.

He didn’t respond, and when she looked over, she noticed him watching her with some expression she couldn’t quite decipher. Admiration? Or was it curiosity?

She cleared her throat and picked up the large paint can labeled Morning Sunshine.

“Um, so, you can start on that wall,” she said, pointing to the wall opposite the back door.

She moved her hand toward the adjacent wall, adding, “I still need to get rid of the rest of the wallpaper on this one, and then we can prime it.”

“Yes, ma’am.” A glint of humor filled his eyes, but his face remained as stoic as usual.

She wondered why he smiled so rarely. Difficult childhood, or was he just serious by nature?

She didn’t mind, though. She’d faked enough smiles these past few months that it was refreshing not having to put on a happy face to avoid being on the receiving end of the sympathetic smiles she’d grown used to.

It was even more refreshing not having to make awkward small talk, which she discovered ten minutes later as they worked in comfortable silence. Caleb didn’t say much, except for the occasional work-related remark, as he rolled bright-yellow paint on her kitchen wall.

She found herself sneaking sidelong glances in his direction, admiring his perfect profile, the strength of his jaw, the confident way he moved.

Her pulse sped up each time he lifted his arms, which made his powerful muscles bunch and flex.

His body was incredible, hard and lean without an ounce of fat.

And she loved how focused he was on his task, his head bent in concentration.

As he painted, a rogue lock of dark hair fell onto his forehead.

She wanted to walk over and brush it away, but kept her hands on the scraper she was using.

Just because every nerve ending in her body crackled with the need to touch him didn’t mean she’d give in to temptation.

She forced herself to keep working, succeeding in removing nearly all the wallpaper before her parched throat finally got the best of her. “How about a break?” she suggested.

Caleb glanced over with a slight grin. “We’ve only been at this for an hour. I thought you were tougher than that, Kincaid.”

A tiny alarm went off in her head. Had she told him her last name? She couldn’t remember, but she didn’t think so. Or maybe…the mailbox, she deduced with relief. He must have seen her last name on the mailbox.

“I’m also thirsty,” she retorted.

“And you had a long night,” he added in concession. “So I’m willing to overlook your laziness.”

Rolling her eyes, she headed for the fridge. “Iced tea okay?”

“Yep.”

She poured two tall glasses, then grabbed a few ice cubes from the freezer. Caleb was sitting at the table when she came back, rolling his shoulders in a way that made his pecs flex against his shirt. Her dry mouth went even dryer.

She sat down, sipping her drink and hoping the cold liquid would ease the fire inside her.

Silence hung in the kitchen again, only this time it made her feel awkward.

God, it was strange having a man here. Three months ago, it had been Patrick in Caleb’s chair, reading the paper and eating the scrambled eggs she used to make him.

Her chest squeezed with anger. Though she tried masking the shot of pain that streaked through her, Caleb evidently sensed it.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Marley put down her cup. “I’m fine.” Her stomach burned, and she tried to control the volatile reaction thoughts of Patrick evoked inside her. “I was just thinking about something…someone… Don’t worry about it.”

“Anyone important?”

She couldn’t help a harsh laugh. “You could say that.”

A knowing glimmer filled his blue eyes. “An ex?”

She nodded.

“How long ago did you break up?”

He sounded curious, but not pushy, and something about his tone compelled her to answer. “It’s been a few months now.” She sighed. “And let’s just say it didn’t end well.”

“I’m sorry.”

That was it. I’m sorry. Marley suddenly felt like hugging him.

Everyone she knew, when they’d heard about Patrick, had grilled her about the breakup.

Even her dad, God bless him, wanted to know everything—as if hearing every last detail could somehow help him protect her after the fact.

But Caleb didn’t dig, he didn’t pry or demand, and for that reason, she found herself revealing things she would never usually tell a stranger.

“He wasn’t the person I thought he was.” She wrapped her fingers around the cold glass, needing to hold on to something. “He lied to me about everything, starting with who he really was.”

Caleb’s face remained expressionless, but she saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. “He sounds like a pretty awful guy.”

“Big time.” Her hand trembled. “I still want to kick myself for ever falling in love with him.”

To her surprise, the sympathy she expected to see wasn’t there. Instead, he just shrugged and, in a rough voice, said, “You can’t always help who you fall for. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Marley studied his face. “Heard, not felt, huh?” She took a chance and decided to venture into dangerous territory. “So you’ve never been in love?”

* * *

C ALEB WASN’T PREPARED FOR the question, but he knew he’d opened this can of worms by asking her about Grier.

And the answers she’d given perplexed him.

His gut still told him she wasn’t helping Grier, that she hadn’t known a thing about Grier’s crimes.

So why wasn’t she angrier? Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, right?

When she’d spoken of Grier just now, Caleb had only seen pain and bitterness in her eyes. Not the fury he’d be feeling if someone close had deceived him. Marley, though…she simply looked sad.

“Caleb?”

Her melodic voice drew him from his thoughts. He tried to remember what she’d asked him, but the sight of her was far too distracting. Her lips, pink and lush, looked so utterly kissable, and her hair was coming out of its ponytail again, loose blond waves falling forward in the most appealing way.

He curled his hand around his iced-tea glass. He had to quit getting distracted by her curvy body and beautiful face. What had she asked again? Oh, yeah, love…

“No,” he said grudgingly. “I can’t say I’ve ever been in love.”

Curiosity and surprise pooled in her big brown eyes. “How old are you?”

“Thirty-one.”

“And you’ve really never been in love?”

He focused on his drink, raising it to his lips and taking a long sip, delaying his response. Why did she look so bewildered? Lots of people had never been in love, right?

“It just hasn’t happened to me,” he said. “And you know what? Half the time I think that’s a good thing. Seems like love ends in disaster more often than not.”

“It does,” she agreed.

“But you haven’t given up?”

She leaned back in her chair, the action causing her breasts to jut enticingly against the material of her yellow tank top. Caleb forced himself to look only at her face. Anything lower than that was guaranteed to blow his concentration to smithereens.

“No, I haven’t given up,” she said in a soft voice.

“Sure, I might have some trust issues now, thanks to my ex, but I’m working through those.

You know, trying to understand why I didn’t see the signs, why I let him manipulate me so completely.

But I still think love can be a good thing, if you find the right person. ”