Breakaway. Rochelle Alers

length.

      “What do you feel like eating?”

      Celia closed her eyes, melting against the man who reminded her why she’d been born female. A rush of craving, longing and trembling she’d never known held her in a vise-like grip, refusing to release her.

      He looks so good.

      He smells so good.

      He feels so good.

      And I need him to make me feel good—to help me to heal inside and out.

      Hot tears pricked the backs of Celia’s eyelids with the silent entreaty. She’d spent the past year wallowing in fear and grief. As a doctor she’d come face-to-face with life and death on what had become a daily basis. She’d called the time of death on patients ranging from newborns to centenarians, and it was never easy. She was a scientist and a realist. It was inevitable that life was always followed by death.

      What she never would’ve anticipated was that her own life could’ve possibly been ended by a teenage boy who had resorted to murder because of a frivolous boast.

      Gavin eased back, staring at the woman in his embrace. “Are you all right, baby?” The endearment had slipped out unbidden.

      Celia nodded, smiling. “I’m real good,” she admitted. And she was. Being cradled in Gavin’s arms made her feel as if she’d been frozen, locked away in a state of suspended animation for the past year, and now she was finally thawing out. “There’s a restaurant called Carmel’s on Page and Battery Park. They have good food and alfresco dining.”

      “Let’s do it. You’re going to have to show me how to get there.”

      Glancing at his watch, Gavin noted the time. It was almost one. He’d suggested lunch because he’d only drunk two cups of coffee earlier that morning. Most of his time was spent on the computer, reading updates from a secure government site in order to gather information as to the whereabouts of Raymond Prentice.

      It was as if his brother had literally dropped off the planet. Meanwhile, the band of gun thieves had successfully pulled off two more robberies—one in Arkansas and the other in Oklahoma. What Gavin found puzzling was the speed at which they’d traveled from one state to another. They’d robbed a shop in Jonesboro, Arkansas and three hours later they hit another dealer near Lawton, Oklahoma, only miles from the Fort Sill Military Reservation.

      An ATF memo indicated the gang’s major focus was on U.S. law enforcement dealers. Another memorandum was circulated to dealers, warning them to be vigilant and to alert their local law enforcement of individuals who appeared to be window-shopping instead of purchasing firearms.

      The latest information from the inside informant was that a member of the group, a former Army sniper, was left behind to search out and execute Raymond Prentice. Gavin knew it would be a race against time to find his brother before the sniper.

      Celia and Gavin decided to wait for a table outside the restaurant because they wanted to take in the sights of downtown Asheville while enjoying the balmy spring weather. Once they were seated she ordered smoked turkey breast, Swiss cheese and a cranberry-horseradish mayonnaise on sourdough bread.

      Gavin had selected a crab cake sandwich with rémoulade sauce, romaine, tomato and red onion on a Kaiser roll. He’d also ordered a half carafe of white wine to accompany their lunch, and after a glass, Celia felt completely relaxed.

      “I can’t remember ever drinking wine with a sandwich,” she said, smiling.

      Gavin stared across the table at his dining partner. There was something about her bearing and body language that called to mind the graceful movements of a prima ballerina.

      “Haven’t you had wine with bread, cheese and salad?”

      Celia nodded. “Yes.”

      “We ordered dishes with lettuce, tomato, cheese and bread, so drinking wine is permissible.”

      “Do you like traveling?”

      Her question was so unexpected that it gave Gavin pause. “Yes and no.”

      Propping her elbow on the table, Celia rested her chin on her fist. “Why yes and no?”

      His lids came down, hiding his innermost thoughts from her. He didn’t like lying to Celia, but he couldn’t afford to be forthcoming because it would reveal his identity and his mission.

      “It’s always nice to visit a country where I’d never been. The downside is I find myself getting homesick.” He glanced up at her. “And I get homesick for the worst things.”

      “Like what?”

      “Hamburgers, franks, deep-dish pizza and Southern fried chicken.”

      Celia’s eyebrows lifted. “What about North Carolina pulled pork?”

      “That, too,” he crooned as a dreamy expression came over his face. “Have you done a lot of traveling?”

      “I used to when I was a young girl. My dad would take me with him on business trips to Belize, Mexico, Jamaica and Puerto Rico. Once I entered high school, academics became a priority for me. I knew I wanted to become a doctor, so all of my spare time was spent studying. I have a few doctors in the family, so they would give me study tips for the MCAT. Thanks to them I scored in the top one percent.”

      “Where did you go to medical school? No, I take that back. What schools did you apply to that accepted you?”

      Lowering her arm, Celia dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I applied to all the Ivy League schools. The others were Johns Hopkins, Howard and Meharry. I was accepted into most of them, but decided on Meharry.”

      “Why Meharry?” Gavin asked.

      A mysterious smile softened her parted lips. “I fell in love with this part of the country. The first time I drove through the Great Smoky Mountains I felt as if I’d stepped back in time, and I made a promise to myself that once I became a doctor I would buy property here.”

      “Do you keep all of your promises?” he teased.

      “Maybe not to myself, but if I promise someone else something, I do everything within my power to keep it.”

      Leaning over the table, Gavin gave Celia a long, penetrating stare. “Will you promise…”

      “Promise what, Gavin?”

      A deafening silence swallowed them in a cocoon of anticipation where they were able to shut out everything and everyone around them. The seconds ticked as a slow smile parted Gavin’s firm lips. “I want you to promise me that we’ll be civil when it comes to Terry.”

      Slumping back in her chair, Celia’s expression registered disbelief. She’d thought what he’d wanted to propose had something to do with them, not the dog. Perhaps, deep down inside she wanted it to be different—that she’d met Gavin under another set of circumstances.

      She also wasn’t oblivious to the admiring glances women diners directed at Gavin. Celia wanted to tell them they could look, but he was going home with her. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass. Now, where had that thought come from? She, who’d professed not to have a jealous bone in her body, was suddenly struck by the green-eyed monster.

      “I promise.” She placed her hand over her wineglass when Gavin attempted to refill it. “Please. No more.”

      His hand halted. “You only had one glass.”

      “One glass is my limit.”

      Gavin leaned over the table. “What happens after the second glass?”

      Celia also leaned closer. “I lose my inhibitions.”

      “No!”

      “Yes-s-s,” she slurred. “My tongue doesn’t work well after one glass.”

      Reaching over the table, Gavin took her hands in his. “I promise