The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

I did believe that I was the person best equipped to take down Antonov two years ago,’ he offered raggedly. ‘The one with the most determination. The one with the burning desire to do so. Not sure I believe it now.’

      He’d opened up to her this much—he might as well let her see the rest of it.

      ‘I can’t settle. I don’t sleep. I feel like I’m peeling out of my own skin half the time. I came back for the wedding. I forced things into play so that I could be home in time for that. I’ve left loose threads that I need to go back and tie up and now you want to put me in a manager’s chair? I can’t do it. I don’t belong in a chair. I’m no manager and I can’t stand paperwork. All I want to do is clean up my mess.’

      ‘And how would you do that?’

      ‘I need to know what’s happening with Celik—Antonov’s kid. I promised him he’d be okay. I need to get to Belarus and put something in play there that might lead us to the last of Antonov’s moles within ASIS. I need to get to the families of the other two dead men and see how they’re situated. I need to finish this so I can sleep.’

      ‘You came back too soon.’

      ‘I had to.’

      ‘You put family first.’

      ‘I always will. You can’t be too surprised by that. It’s all I’ve ever done.’

      He turned the burner off, took hold of the skillet and tipped the pancakes onto his plate. He sat down opposite where she’d been sitting and reached for the sugar.

      He ignored her when she slipped in between him and the corner of the kitchen bench, one elbow on the bench as she studied him intently.

      Had she squeezed in between him and another person at a bar, in an effort to get served, he wouldn’t have thought anything of her proximity. But there was a lot of room at this breakfast bar and she wasn’t currently using any of it.

      ‘What are you doing?’ he asked warily.

      ‘May I try something?’

      ‘I don’t know whether to say yes or no.’

      She reached out and slid the back of her hand up his cheek and towards his temple … a soft caress that made his breath hitch and his body stiffen against the utter pleasure of it. Her hand didn’t stop there and soon her fingers were in his hair, scraping gently across his scalp, making his eyes close and his body tremble.

      ‘You’re touch-starved.’

      Her whisky voice rippled across his senses.

      ‘We see it sometimes in those who’ve held themselves apart, those who’ve gone too deeply undercover for too long. I thought I saw a hint of it the other day in your sister’s kitchen, and then again in my office. You weren’t looking for it. You thought yourself attracted to me.’

      ‘I am attracted to you. How much more obvious do you want me to be?’

      He caught her wrist, then deliberately brought her hand back to the counter before releasing her. He wasn’t going to act the Neanderthal the way he had the other day. He just wasn’t.

      ‘Move over,’ she said, and reached across the bench for her plate of pancakes and her utensils.

      When she sat down beside him she let her lower leg rest against his, pinching his footrest instead of using hers.

      ‘Touch doesn’t always have to be sexual. Sometimes it’s about comfort and connection.’

      ‘Are you mentoring me?’

      ‘You did say I could. Are you objecting?’

      ‘Yes,’ he said firmly, and glared when she patted him on the forearm. ‘And don’t mother me either. Don’t need one—don’t want one. Don’t call me Oedipus.’

      She smiled like a Madonna. ‘I challenge you to stay in casual body contact with me for five minutes and see if it relaxes you any. If it works we’ll get you a puppy.’

      ‘Don’t want a puppy, Ro.’ He gave her his full wattage smile. ‘I want a girl.’

      ‘And I thought you wanted me. How are your ribs?’

      ‘Better.’

      ‘The doctor said it would take weeks for them to fully heal.’

      ‘Almost better.’

      ‘It’s probably too soon for you to be playing contact sport as a way of encountering touch. There’s massage …?’

      Her leg was already sliding against his as he moved his own leg around. ‘The frustration would kill me.’

      ‘Self-massage beforehand?’

      ‘Wouldn’t help.’

      ‘Maybe you could take dance classes? Start with a waltz … finish at the tango?’

      ‘No partner.’

      ‘The dance teacher would be your partner.’

      ‘You’re really serious about this touch thing, aren’t you?’

      ‘Are you feeling more relaxed than you were a minute ago?’

      Surprisingly, he was.

      ‘Might not be about touch, though. Might be proximity to you. You could stay the night. There could be dinner out on the deck. A swim this afternoon. I could teach you how to kite surf.’

      He wasn’t allowed to, on account of his ribs, but that wouldn’t stop him teaching someone else.

      ‘Wouldn’t I have to learn how to surf first?’

      ‘Oh, Ro … No. You don’t surf? Do you know what this means?’

      ‘That we may not be soul mates after all?’

      ‘It means you’re missing out on one of life’s great pleasures. Now I have to teach you how to surf.’

      ‘You mean right after you teach me how to swim?’

      For a moment he thought she was serious, and then she smiled and he knew she was playing him. ‘You can swim. The General would have made sure of it.’

      She laughed at that. ‘And then there was canoeing and sailing—diving and the rest. I swear that man should have joined the Navy, not the Army.’

      He liked hearing those kinds of things from her, liked having her around.

      ‘Can you stay? We could swim or surf—the offer’s there. You could stay the night—there’s plenty of bedrooms. We could go out to dinner. There could be fresh seafood and bright stars in the sky. A playful breeze. There could be body contact and relaxation. I’m all for it.’

      ‘My flight leaves at midday. This is a work-day for me.’

      ‘There’s always next weekend. You could come back.’

      Her leg rocked gently against his. ‘You’re very tempting. You already know this, so it’s not as if I’m telling you anything new. But you’re not in a good place right now, and I’m trying to figure out what I need to do for you in a work capacity and what I might be able to offer you in a private one. The answer to that second question being that if I know what’s good for me I’ll offer you nothing.’

      ‘We could try friendship?’ he offered. ‘Something simple. I’d like simple.’

      ‘You’d need to stop hitting on me. And—given that I have at least some self-awareness—I’d need to stop flirting with you too.’

      Rowan smiled ruefully and turned her attention to the eating of her pancakes. They ate in companionable silence, and by the time Rowan had finished her pancakes and drunk her coffee Jared was feeling more