Black Ops Warrior. Amelia Autin

knee.”

      “I want to meet your mother.”

      His smile deepened. “You’d like her. And what’s more to the point, she’d like you.”

      A sudden, sharp pain stabbed through her, so unexpected, so real she was afraid to look down in case she’d see blood somewhere. She tried not to let her smile fade away, but she wasn’t completely successful. Niall watched her for a moment, then said in a quiet voice, “Just tell me.”

      The words slipped out. “My parents would have loved you.”

      He didn’t say anything, just took her hand in his and stroked his thumb back and forth in a move that was both comforting and somehow erotic.

      “I miss them so much,” she whispered in a desperate undertone. “My mom—she’s the one who got me interested in ancient history. I was thinking of her when I was standing on the Great Wall. Remembering lying on my bed, poring over books on ancient China with her. And my dad—he’s the one who introduced me to the pure beauty of mathematics. But I didn’t want to be a mathematician, like him. I wanted to be an engineer because it was applied math. I wanted to make a difference. Wanted to help keep the world safe. That’s why I became a—”

      She stopped short because she suddenly remembered her numerous security briefings. Don’t tell anyone what you do, she’d been warned. You can say who you work for, but nothing more than that. And never mention your security clearance.

      But Niall’s eyes held such understanding, she added, “I know people mock ideals these days. And patriotism seems passé, but that’s how my parents raised me. When I graduated college, I was recruited by...” She mentioned the name of her former employer, knowing Niall would probably recognize the name and make the connection to the Department of Defense. “Microsoft and Google recruited me, too, and a half dozen other companies. But I wanted to do my part in keeping my country safe.”

      His hold on her hand tightened. “I understand, more than you can possibly know.” His voice dropped a notch. “That’s how my parents raised me, too. There’s this quotation from Edward Everett Hale my dad carved in wood before I was born, and hung over the fireplace mantel in the family room at home. It’s still there. ‘I am only one, but I am one,’” he recited softly. “‘I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do. And by the grace of God, I will.’”

      She gazed wonderingly at him. “Would you believe I’ve read that saying before? Not exactly those words, but close.”

      “Yeah. I’ve seen variations on it, too. But it influenced me from the time I was old enough to understand what it meant. And I joined the Marine Corps when I turned eighteen. So did all my brothers and my baby sister when they were old enough. Not that my parents pushed us into it. It was just...” He seemed to search for the words. “A way of giving back, I guess. I know our country isn’t perfect. We’ve made mistakes. Grievous ones sometimes. But I wouldn’t trade the US for any other country in the world.”

      Savannah smiled tremulously at Niall. “You do understand.”

      “Yeah. I do.”

      They gazed at each other in silence for endless moments, and Savannah had never felt closer to another human being than she did right then with Niall. But eventually she tore her gaze away and glanced down at her largely untouched plate. “Oh rats,” she said for something to say. “Our food’s cold.”

      “It’s a buffet. You could get a new plate.”

      “And waste good food?” She shook her head at him and picked up her fork. “I’m not going to perpetuate the stereotype of the ‘ugly American.’ Not if I can help it. It’s cold, but it’s still edible.”

      They made small talk as they ate. And Savannah couldn’t believe this was really her. Where was the woman who was tongue-tied in the presence of the male of the species in a social situation? But everything seemed natural with Niall, as if she’d known him forever instead of meeting him for the first time this morning.

      She frowned as she acknowledged the truth of that thought; she really knew nothing about Niall.

      “Are you still a marine?” she blurted out.

      He shook his head. “Four years was enough for me. My older brother made it his career, though, until—” He stopped abruptly, and Savannah wondered what he’d intended to say.

      “Until...?”

      “Until he was wounded and they gave him a medical discharge. Now he does something else.”

      “If you didn’t make the Corps your career, what do you do?” She almost missed his slight hesitation.

      “Security.”

      She wondered about that infinitesimal pause, but didn’t ask him about it. Instead she said, “What made you decide to take this trip? I mean, it’s mostly couples. And it’s mostly people who are...” She cleared her throat. “Well, retired. I know why I’m here, but...”

      He smiled at her. “I’m forty. Not retired yet, but not so young, either. And I have a bucket list, just like you. Everything seemed to dovetail with work, and so...”

      He wasn’t being completely truthful. She didn’t know how she knew that; she just did. But she wasn’t ready to call him on it. Yet. Someday, she vowed, he’ll trust me enough to tell me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

      As soon as that thought occurred to her, another thought crept into her consciousness. What made her think there was going to be a someday with Niall?

      * * *

      They strolled leisurely through the hotel’s vast lobby afterward, in companionable silence for the most part. When they passed the shop where Savannah had purchased her dress, she stopped momentarily to look at the others in the window. “I almost bought that one,” she murmured, pointing to a red silk sheath with the most gorgeous gold embroidery in a very Chinese design.

      “Red’s not your color.” Niall turned, and when his gaze traveled over her from head to toe, Savannah felt it as a caress.

      “No?”

      “No. It’s all wrong for you.”

      She didn’t know what made her say it—she never flirted—but she teased, “I didn’t know you were a connoisseur of women’s clothing.”

      A short huff of laughter answered her. “I’m not. But I’m a connoisseur of you.” His voice dropped. “And what you’re wearing is perfect...for you.”

      She caught her breath at the blatant desire in his eyes, kindling an answering desire in her. And all at once she remembered this morning, and her determination that if Niall wanted to make love to her, she wasn’t going to say no. Except for that one time she’d fallen in love in her teens, she’d played it safe all her life where relationships were concerned. How many chances like this would come her way? How many opportunities would she have to live the fantasy?

      You even planned for this, she reminded herself. There’s a box of condoms waiting upstairs. But she couldn’t make her lips form the words to invite him up to her room. She wanted to. But she couldn’t.

      * * *

      Niall saw Savannah safely back to her hotel room on the thirty-eighth floor. He leaned in and kissed her lightly, not trusting himself any further than that. If he kissed her the way he wanted to—the way she deserved—he wouldn’t have been able to walk away at all. And he needed to. The shy invitation in Savannah’s eyes was an indictment of him. Of his assignment. And of what he’d actually—for a brief period—considered doing. How do you make love to a woman you’d convinced yourself you could kill?

      He could have done it yesterday, if absolutely necessary. He could have slept with a traitor without a qualm and gone after the evidence to convict her, or kill her, when she was still his target. But not now. Not when