A Shot at Love. Peggy Jaeger

its young. To truly love a man she knew she’d have to give away the two things she could not and would not: her trust and her control.

      She’d been lucky so far. No man had made a lasting impression, and she’d easily kept up her guard. The number of people she trusted could be counted on one hand. Gemma took care of herself financially, physically, and emotionally. But now she was being forced to put her safety and trust in a man she didn’t know, wasn’t sure about, and who made her feel just the slightest bit uneasy in a way she didn’t like.

      Before rising from the bed, she straightened out her injured knee. It was a little stiff, but the pain had abated. When she stood she was able to put her full weight on it. An internal sigh of relief blew through her when she dropped to the floor and began her daily stretches.

      Twenty pushups, forty crunches, and five minutes of meditation later, she thought to check her cell phone and e-mail when she remembered Ky had her phone, and he’d disabled the Internet connection to her laptop.

      “This just sucks wind,” she mumbled while moving to the adjoining bathroom.

      When she emerged, dressed and ready for the day, she made a silent wish for her confinement to come to a swift end.

      In the kitchen, Jon Waters was standing by the counter speaking with two men she’d never seen before.

      “Good morning,” Gemma said.

      Jon’s smile was bright and fast. “Morning.”

      When her gaze flicked to the two others in the room, Jon said, “These are Agents LaRoux and Coble, Miss Laine.”

      Both men nodded at her.

      “They’re part of our team and have been assigned to help with keeping you safe.”

      Gemma moved forward and shook hands with both men, committing their faces to their names. Both had the basic look of all the government men she’d met so far: six foot, square jawed, and somber.

      “Any news?” Gemma asked Jon when the men left. “Have they found the man who attacked me?” She shook her head when he lifted the coffeepot.

      “I haven’t heard anything yet,” Jon said. “Sure you don’t want some of this?”

      “I don’t usually drink coffee or tea, but thanks.”

      His eyes widened. “No? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who doesn’t need a hit of caffeine in the morning.”

      She smiled at him, having heard that line many times in her life from scores of people. “Oh, I need a caffeine hit just like the rest of the world,” she said. “But I prefer to get it from a cold soda. I don’t like hot liquids as a rule and rarely drink them.”

      “Unfortunately we don’t have any, but if you tell me what you like, I’ll have LaRoux or Coble get it for you.”

      “That’s okay, you don’t have to.”

      “You don’t have to what?” Ky asked as he came into the room.

      Gemma mentally steeled herself before turning to face him.

      Clad in a muscle hugging T-shirt and loose-fitting sweats with the FBI logo running down one leg, his body was bathed in shiny moisture. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottled water. When he tipped his head back and took a long chug of it, his Adam’s apple shifting and bobbing with the effort, Gemma found herself swallowing as well.

      “Our guest doesn’t overdose on coffee like you and I do, Papps. She prefers soda to get her going in the morning.”

      Ky recapped the bottle and leveled his gaze at her.

      His breathing was fast but even, his shoulders and chest rising with each inhalation, pulling against his drenched shirt.

      Gemma’s fingers itched for her camera. He was so profoundly male, so starkly masculine, bathed in sweat, testosterone gushing off his body in waves, she knew exactly how she’d photograph him.

      “Soda?” His gaze zeroed in on hers, and her back instantly stiffened at the judgment she heard in his voice.

      One word. It had taken just one word from him for her to get irritated again. Okay, maybe not the word itself, but definitely the mockery in his tone. She was all set to ask him if he had something against drinking soda, but before she could get the words out, he forced them back into her, unspoken.

      “My sister Ariadne drinks soda for breakfast, too. Diet Mountain Dew by the case. Drives my mother nuts.”

      Gemma’s grin came so fast she couldn’t have prevented it if she’d tried. “A girl after my own heart. And taste buds. That’s my morning wake-up drink, as well.”

      “I’ll have LaRoux go pick some up,” Jon said.

      “Please don’t go to any bother on my account,” she told him. “I can do without it for a day.”

      The look that passed between Ky and his partner had Gemma’s internal radar kicking up. “What?” she asked, her question aimed at Ky.

      Before answering, Ky uncapped the water again and took another long draught. Gemma’s nerves, frayed to begin with at the circumstances she’d been forced into, went into overdrive waiting for him to respond.

      “You might need to stay here,” he said after he swallowed, “a little longer than another day or so.”

      “Why? You said it wouldn’t take long to find the men responsible.”

      Good Lord. Was that her voice whining like a three-year-old?

      “If you’ll remember, I said it shouldn’t take long to find them.”

      Gemma sliced her hand in the air. “Whatever the wording you used, your implication was it would be soon. What’s changed?”

      His expression gave away nothing. He must be awfully good at his job, she thought. The average person would look at his face and see a blank wall. But Gemma wasn’t an average person. She was a trained and keen observer of subtle body language, telltale motions, and minute physical changes the average person never noticed. So, even though his face remained a mask of calm emptiness, the slight constriction of his pupils, flare of his nostrils, and tension in his fisted hands told her quite the opposite.

      Ky shot a quick look at his partner. “Why don’t we all sit down?”

      He pulled a chair at the table for her, waited until she grudgingly sat in it, and then took his own seat across from his partner.

      “Well?” Gemma folded hands across her chest.

      “I got notice just a few minutes ago that the man who attacked you, Charlie Faldo, was located this morning.”

      “Where?” Jon asked.

      Ky glanced at him and then back to her. “The Hudson River.”

      She gasped, the noise bursting from inside her.

      “He was fished out about five-thirty when a jogger on her morning run noticed something floating in the water along the waterway.”

      “How?” The word came out before she could stop it.

      Ky’s gaze hardened as he focused on her. “His throat was cut. Clear through to his spine. Then he was dumped.”

      “Ritandi’s a big fan of slice and dice,” Jon said, as if he were discussing the weather.

      Ky nodded and finished his water. “We need to keep you hidden,” he told Gemma. “Faldo was executed because he failed to kill you. Ritandi won’t stop looking for you.”

      “But I don’t know anything about any of this! I never even knew his name until you told me.” Gemma bolted up from the table and backed into the counter. “Jesus!”

      Ky was up and on her in an instant. “Easy,” he said, reaching out to grab her arm.

      The