Blown Away. Elle James

say anything declaratory, especially the L word. He’d never experienced love and he wasn’t convinced it really existed. Even when he was a boy, that emotion was illusive. The only child of an alcoholic father, he hadn’t known real affection. And his mother had split when he was barely five.

      Nor was he certain he wanted the debilitating limitations involved with being in love. He’d watched his pal Marty go from a totally focused, leap-into-action S.O.S. agent to one who stopped to consider all his actions carefully before pursuing the one most reasonable and least life-threatening.

      TJ pushed the hair behind her other ear. “When we go back to Washington—”

      With his heart pounding against his ribs, Sean felt the sudden need to breathe open, fresh air, even in the smelly streets of Conbanau. He jerked the door open and said over his shoulder, “Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.” And then he escaped like his life depended on it.

      

      WHEN THE DOOR SLAMMED behind Sean, TJ shook her head. Okay, the guy wasn’t ready for anything more than a fling. She’d suspected that was the case when he refused to open up about his past, his work or anything personal. Oh, he’d shared information about his favorite sports team and the foods he most enjoyed. But who was the real Sean McNeal? What made him tick? And why did he run when she’d only tried to mention a future beyond the two weeks they’d spent in Africa? She wouldn’t ask for marriage or false promises. Heck, she hadn’t even finished her sentence before he bolted.

      She slipped her arms into the black silk jacket, glad of its lightweight fabric. The heat and humidity of the colorful coastal city of Conbanau could be oppressive as the day wore on. And today promised to be a very wearing day.

      The thought that would get her through the long, boring meetings with the pompous prime minister and his mealymouthed financial aide was the knowledge that Sean would be somewhere in the embassy with her. And, if she hadn’t scared him off, he’d be back in her room that night.

      Her body tingled in anticipation and she peered out the window, catching sight of Sean crossing the busy street, dodging buses and brightly dressed men and women walking or riding bicycles. As he wove through the crowded streets to the embassy only a block away, his white skin and dark suit stood out in the sea of humanity. He wore his hair longer than most men, giving him a more daring look. The man was tall, dark, sexy and mysterious, making him everything she ever dreamed of, yet didn’t have room for, in her life as a legislative assistant.

      If she hadn’t come to Dindi ahead of Congressman Haddock, she probably would never have met Sean at the little café between the hotel and the embassy. They would never have strolled along the beach at sunset talking about the stars and constellations. And they never would have captured the moonlight in that single, soul-defining kiss that launched them into a night of lovemaking unsurpassed by anything TJ had ever experienced.

      She sighed, something she’d done a lot of in the past week. What was wrong with her? Her life was just as she loved it—fast-paced, exciting and purposeful. As a legislative assistant, she had more influence on government decisions than the average American. Since she’d left the FBI, she’d mentored with Mason Haddock, Republican congressman from the great state of Texas. Her work was safe, fascinating and everything she wanted.

      Until Sean showed up. He was the icing on the cake. A businessman, not an FBI agent on a dangerous assignment. TJ liked that Sean wasn’t in a career where dodging bullets was just another hazard of the job. She’d suffered through a relationship like that before and wanted nothing to do with danger and life-threatening situations. Give her safety and stability every day. She didn’t miss the late-night stakeouts, being shot at by cornered criminals or waiting by the phone to hear if the man she thought she loved was dead or alive after a particularly dangerous assignment.

      Granted, life as an FBI agent wasn’t all shoot-outs and gunfire. They spent most of their time interviewing and digging through mounds of paperwork searching for clues. But all it took was one bullet, one bomb, one strung out junkie to ruin your day—or end a man’s life.

      No, sir. Give her a quiet government job where she could help shape decisions through intelligence instead of brute force. Although, sometimes she wanted to resort to brute force when the congressman was particularly stubborn on certain issues.

      A quick glance at her watch made TJ gasp. Crud! Congressman Haddock would be furious if she wasn’t there a full hour before the proposed meeting. Which gave her exactly four minutes to find her shoes and join the sea of people on the streets heading in the same direction as Sean.

      Dashing back through the suite, she slipped into her serviceable black pumps, grabbed her briefcase and raced down the wide staircase of the five-star hotel. Atypical for the large African center of commerce, the streets were filled with people of all classes of society, each with a purpose for the day.

      TJ’s purpose was to get to the embassy in—she checked her watch—three minutes. Half walking and half running, she hurried down the long block toward the three-story, forty-five-room, sprawling U.S. embassy surrounded by an impressive wrought-iron fence and lush green lawns. She could see the building above the heads of the people surrounding her.

      With his head start on her, Sean should be clearing the gate about now. She wished she’d woken when he had so that they could walk together and so she wouldn’t be so winded when she arrived. As a legislative assistant, she prided herself in always being calm and collected. It was her job to make Congressman Haddock look good by being prepared and ready for anything and everything. Meeting Sean had thrown her into reactionary mode, constantly running to keep up.

      As she neared the imposing building, the throng of people thinned. With the path clear, she was in the homestretch and should make it there only a few minutes after the congressman. TJ slowed short of the gate and dug in her purse for her passport and identification. When she found them she moved forward without looking up.

      She bumped into a businessman leaving the gate at the same time as she approached. Her impression of the man was dark hair, intense brown eyes and an expensive pinstripe suit. TJ apologized for her clumsiness, but the businessman didn’t even acknowledge her. He kept walking, his long strides eating the distance.

      “Must be in a hurry.” TJ showed her passport and government identification badge to the Marine standing guard. While she tucked the items back in her purse, Congressman Haddock’s empty black limousine exited the compound. Great, he’d already arrived and was probably looking for her.

      Slinging her purse back over her shoulder she’d taken two steps across the long, cobblestone drive when an explosion ripped through the air, knocking her off her feet and spewing stone, dust and debris across the green lawns.

      The spacious white building with elegant arches crumbled before her eyes, the center collapsing into a pile of rubble. A cloud of black smoke and brown dust rose into the air, billowing out from the center of the blast.

      TJ tried to sit up, but when she did, her ears rang and the scene before her spun out of control. Bending forward, she tucked her head between her knees, fighting for control of her senses and the contents of her stomach. When she managed to raise her head, her vision blurred, dust filled her lungs and she erupted in a burst of coughing.

      Men and women ran toward a jumble of crumbled stone, jagged timbers and broken glass where the American embassy had once stood. People scrambled around the debris, but nothing moved beneath the destruction. Those who’d been inside couldn’t have survived the blast.

      Sean.

      As the screech of sirens moved closer, a woman’s wail rose above the noise. The sound emerged from deep in TJ’s chest. She swayed, welcoming the black abyss dragging her into darkness.

      Chapter Two

      Spring in Washington, D.C. usually made TJ happy. Today, despite the blooming cherry blossoms, her jog was all work. She made her way through Rock Creek Park and down to the towpaths formerly used by the mules that towed barges along the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal. The C&O Canal ran parallel to the Potomac River and