“I am a man who has waited a long time for a chance with you.” A chance that would very likely be ruined when she learned more about him, about why he left Egypt to come here. But for now, he would allow himself to enjoy what time he had with her.
“You know, an affair would be easier than a relationship.”
He choked on a cough. “Pardon me?”
“Does that shock you? We are both adults—more than adults. I may be wrong, but I assumed from your kiss that you find me attractive.”
“You know I do.” God, he wanted to take her up on the offer, had been thinking the same thing himself.
“Then let’s skip the formalities.” She kissed him lightly, deliberately. “Come with me to my apartment.”
He wanted her, without question, wanted her so much his body ached. And he couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life never knowing what it would be like to hold her in his arms through the night.
But his conscience balked at the notion of being intimate with her when he held back so much about himself. When he knew she could not be honest with him.
She pressed fingers to his mouth. “I am not naïve. I know there are things you haven’t told me. There’s a look to a person who has secrets. I…” She stuttered for the first time. “I have my own. Maybe that’s why we’re drawn to each other. And perhaps that’s why we can have an affair.”
“You make a compelling argument.” One he didn’t have the strength to argue with.
He pulled her from the swing and into his arms. Kneeling right there in the dusty playground, he kissed her, tasting the lingering sugar and cinnamon from cookies. But more than that, he took in the feel of her, the press of her full br**sts against his chest, the silky glide of her hair as he thrust his hands under her scarf. The intimacy of those chestnut strands caressing his skin was almost more than he could withstand.
They needed to move this inside before someone saw them. He wouldn’t compromise her reputation or set an improper example for the children. Clasping her by the elbows, he stood, bringing her with him. His body protested the loss of her lips, of her hands on his shoulders even as his mind reassured him soon, soon she would finally be his for as long as they had together.
“Sam,” she said, her voice husky with desire. “Your phone.”
“What?” His passion-fogged mind wrestled to keep up with words.
“Your phone is buzzing. Can you ignore it?”
His phone. Buzzing. With a message.
Damn it.
Not now, not now, his brain chanted as he hoped the text was something simple. He received countless memos. But this wasn’t his regular phone. It was his second, for official business. His instincts told him the news would be bad, and for Annie’s sake he needed to know sooner rather than later.
He reached into his pocket and thumbed through the code to read… A series of numbers scrolled across his screen. A code, rather than words, in case his phone was compromised.
A code he knew meant only one thing.
He cursed the timing and his duty. This was not the way this evening was supposed to end. He jammed his phone back in his pack and clasped Annie’s arm with purpose rather than passion.
“Sam? What’s wrong? Where are we going?”
He couldn’t believe all that he was giving up tonight. But he didn’t dare look at her right now or he would forget all about his job.
“I don’t have time to explain, but I know who you are. Your identity has been compromised. Melanie Carson, I work for Interpol and I need to take you into protective custody.”
Chapter 13
Stella sat in the middle of her bed, legs crossed, rocking back and forth. A small corner of her brain registered that she was in shock, so she let Jose take over. They’d been lodged at a hotel near the airport, a blah place with plenty of amenities and none of the local flavor.
If she’d been in her right mind, she would have voiced how much she hated it and Jose would have grinned, then offered to distract her. Or checked them both into someplace more exotic. But all of that would have been wasted on her. She was too numb to feel or register anything other than the surreal discovery that everything she’d believed about her childhood, the memories that had shaped her, had all been lies.
He locked the door and closed the blinds, creating a cocoon for her to process, to grieve. She’d come to Africa to find out about her mom, but she’d never expected to find this. Her mind was still reeling with the fact that her mother had lied about everything. Stella forced steady breaths in and out, willing her heart to slow.
Smith had pulled her off the case the second he’d realized her mother was involved. But involved how? What had she been doing here? Stella’s image of her mom grew all the more complicated. Her mom hadn’t been on Peace Corps missions. Her mother had been serving the government in some capacity. Her mother had been doing exactly what she did, probably since before Stella was born.
And her mother had died in the line of duty rather than on some random road trip from village to village between goodwill missions.