by Geri Krotow
Portia sighed as she pulled open the heavy door of the former prison, marveling again at how clever the coffee shop owner had been to pick the historical building to begin a new business in Silver Valley. It was a way to preserve the past but infuse it with the promise of tomorrow, and definitely in a more positive way. She preferred it as a café over the local prison it had once been. Scents of coffee and chocolate hit her and she saw a giggling group of teens near the fireplace, their hands holding mugs with the shop’s logo. No sign of Annie yet, so she went up to the counter to order a small pot of chamomile tea. She wanted nothing to keep her awake past her usual bedtime. That led to thoughts of Kyle, which led to a sleepless night.
“What can I get you?” The usual college student barista had been replaced since last night. This barista had the same voice as the man she’d dreamed about, been unable to keep her mind and heart off, since she’d met him. Portia’s heart swelled, but her fear of having lost her mind tempered her joy.
“Kyle?”
Kyle’s silver gaze was lit with a fire she’d only dreamed of, his tall form startling against the backdrop of the espresso machine and pastry case. He didn’t speak, as he appeared as hungry as she was, and not for the sweets on the shelf.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m afraid that’s not on our menu, ma’am.” His grin was so full of happiness, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to jump the counter and kiss him, or turn and run. It was scary, facing her life’s dream like this. Her heart’s desire.
“I thought you were in California.”
His gaze never left hers, but she saw him take her in, really look at her. A worry line appeared on his brow. “You’re not eating enough.”
“Need some help, Kyle?” The lanky barista she was familiar with appeared next to Kyle, who nodded.
“Thanks, Ryan. I’ll be back next week for my shift.” Portia watched Kyle as he walked around the counter and put his arms around her. “We’re going to be in the front room for a bit, Ryan. A private function,” Kyle said to the barista but his eyes never left hers.
“What’s this about, Kyle? I’m meeting Annie...” She trailed off as he ushered her into the front room, where she’d often spent long hours reading or going over gala details. Annie had not planned to meet her, after all. It’d been a setup. Portia hoped it meant more than Annie employing her matchmaking tendencies. And what if Kyle only wanted to talk, to have some kind of stupid closure before saying they’d never see one another again?
Although he’d been working behind the counter.
She shrugged away from Kyle, took her coat off and sat in the chair he held out for her. Kyle closed the door, and the room immediately felt smaller, cozier.
Safer.
Kyle sat in the chair opposite her, leaning forward, their knees touching. He reached for her hands and she gave them with no argument. “You’d better have a damned good explanation for disappearing for a month.” She’d meant to sound stern but her voice shook and she barely kept from bursting into tears.
“That’s for you to decide.” He reached up and moved a stray strand of her curly hair behind her ear. The tips of his fingers touched her earlobe and she closed her eyes against the assault of emotions.
“Kyle.”
“I need your eyes open for this, babe. When they’re closed like that, all I want to do is get to the kissing and I’ve got some talking to do first.”
She opened her eyes, ready to listen. “Shoot.”
Kyle’s eyes glistened. No way. Was her secret undercover agent tearing up?
“I had to go back to California to take care of some business. The least important was what you know, to set up the office Claudia wants out there. But the other part...” He squeezed her hands and she squeezed back. It was automatic to support him in whatever he had to say.
“Go on.”
“I bought a piece of land years ago, to give myself an anchor. A place I’d have to go back to, whether between missions, on leave or for a permanent residence. I went back there—it’s next to an almond farm—and I took time for myself. The last several years have been one op after another. That worked for me for a long time, but no longer.” He looked away as if gathering his thoughts. When he met her gaze again, she swore she saw down to his soul. And knew he saw the same in her eyes.
“The thing is, Portia, none of it’s the same anymore. Since I first laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. I’m not one for woo-woo stuff, but I swear my soul recognized you. And then when we were together—there’s no one else for me, Portia.”
“Kyle, I feel the same.”
“I was hoping you’d say that, but here’s the deal. I’m not going to push you on this. You take as long as you want. But I’m putting my roots down here, in Silver Valley. I’ll still work for TH, of course, and I’ll work in this coffee shop. Maybe pick up some other part-time jobs, too. They’re all good cover for when I’m not out on an op.”
She couldn’t keep the grin from stretching across her face if she wanted to. Portia took her hands from his and cupped his face, leaning in close. “I never thought of you as a barista, but I kind of like it. Imagine what we could do with frothed milk.”
He sucked in a breath and his pupils dilated in the brightly lit room. She’d missed turning him on so much.
“Hold on, babe.” His hands were on her waist, his fingers digging in just enough to make her go hot all over. He’d better say whatever else he wanted to quickly, because she was about to jump him.
“I’m not doing this to see how it works out, or worse, if it’ll work out. We’re going to do whatever it takes to make this work, Portia, because what we have is big time. The kind of thing that lasts a lifetime.”
“‘Kind of thing,’ Kyle?” She wanted to hear him say it.
“Love, Portia. I love you and I will until my last dying breath.”
“I love you, too.” She leaned in then but he was already there, kissing her with as much love and abandon as she had.
“Um, I think we’d better get upstairs to my apartment.” She didn’t want to have her first time with Kyle since he’d returned be on top of the coffee shop table. Although...
“Well, since you’ve mentioned it, there’s a storm coming. And I happen to have the keys to a place with a hot tub. We could get stuck there for several days...”
She kissed him. “Quick then, let’s go. Let’s hurry up and start the rest of our lives together.”
“Oh, we’ve already begun that, babe. The day I first laid eyes on you.”
* * *
Don’t miss the other thrilling romances in
Geri Krotow’s Silver Valley P.D. miniseries:
Reunion Under Fire
The Fugitive’s Secret Child
Secret Agent Under Fire
Her Secret Christmas Agent
Wedding Takedown
Her Christmas Protector
All available now from
Harlequin Romantic Suspense.
Keep reading for an excerpt from A Soldier’s Honor by Regan Black.
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A Soldier’s Honor
by Regan Black
Chapter 1
Bethany Trent pulled into her driveway and checked the clock on the dashboard. Her son, Caleb, still had thirty minutes of soccer practice. She’d arranged for him to have a ride home so she could swing by the grocery store and get a head start on dinner. Overhead, tall white clouds puffed slowly across the rich blue of the October sky, and she paused to appreciate the view as she unloaded the car. This was her favorite time of year, with the heat of summer gone and winter still weeks away.
If she hustled, she could get chocolate chip cookies—his favorite—into the oven before he made it home. Motherhood had taught her that teenage boys were easier to manage and more prone to chatter over food, particularly when their mouths were full. She figured the two of them had earned hazard pay for surviving his angst-ridden year of thirteen, and she was grateful that the sharpest of those edges had smoothed out over the past year.
As was the habit of children, change was inevitable. With Caleb, the changes and growth spurts often happened before she was ready. With his fifteenth birthday just over a month away, he’d started pushing back and, in some instances, shutting her out. His grades were still good, and he hung out with the same friends, but something had shifted. A girl, maybe? She didn’t know because so far she hadn’t found the key to open him up.
While putting away the groceries and gathering the ingredients for the cookies, she let her mind wander through the various approaches. She understood the logic and timing as Caleb asserted his independence. She’d been a teenager herself and recalled that internal tug-of-war between wanting to be autonomous within the steady framework and safety net of her wonderful parents.
She set out the butter to soften, preheated the oven and stirred dry ingredients. Cookies would never make up for the fact that Caleb was still one parental unit short. The pang of guilt she hadn’t felt in years prickled under her skin. As a single mom, she’d counted herself blessed with Caleb from day one. He was an amazing kid, who was growing toward a remarkable adulthood. He was a wonderful teenager, who had never met his father.
Beating the butter and sugar, and then adding the eggs, she coached herself a bit. It wasn’t as if she’d hidden everything from him, only the name. Through the years, when he’d ask, she’d assured Caleb his father was an upstanding man, who was committed to his Military career. She’d told him over and over that his father cared and provided for him; he just had to do it from a distance.
Caleb had never demanded to learn his father’s identity. He’d never thrown a fit, insisted on a meeting or raged at her about the situation. All things she’d heard other mothers cope with, usually in the case of divorce. Yes, she had an amazing kid.
Still, as she finished mixing the cookie dough, the scent of chocolate wafting up as she stirred in the chocolate chips, she worried. If having a father-in-absentia was the source of his recent withdrawal and curt moments, what would be the best next step?
She cut short the litany of “what-if” scenarios that crowded her mind. Caleb had given her no signals of the precise trouble weighing on him. Jumping to conclusions wouldn’t help either one of them. Please let it be girl trouble, she thought.
Well, the cookies were her strategy for today, and with luck, they would soften him up. Dropping the dough on baking sheets, she reminded herself she’d been strong enough for everything else, from giving birth to teething to sitting through the Alien movies while he recuperated from wrist surgery. She slid the first dozen cookies into the oven and set the timer. Telling Caleb the whole truth about his father was likely to expose her to a world of hurt, but she’d do it.
She’d do anything to ensure her son continued to feel safe, valued and loved. Maybe rather than aching over the past, explaining the circumstances and their choices would grant her a sense of relief and closure. And maybe pigs would sprout wings and put on an aerial display in that pretty afternoon sky.
The oven timer went off at the same moment the security system chimed and announced that the front door was open. She’d count that perfect timing as a good sign.
“I’m home,” Caleb called out as the door closed with a thud.
“Kitchen,” she replied, pulling the finished cookies from the oven and sliding the next baking sheet inside.
She turned as he walked in, his backpack slung over one shoulder, cleats dangling by their laces. There were grass stains on his knees, the side of his shorts and one shoulder of his T-shirt. The ripeness of his practice gear almost overpowered the aroma of freshly baked cookies. With his hair mussed and damp with sweat, he took a deep breath and a smile bloomed across his face. The one dimple, inherited from his father, creased his cheek. Here was her heart, her whole world. Today, her normal influx of love and pride was overshadowed by the lingering remorse that she’d kept Caleb to herself all these years.
No. She would not presume to know the trouble. She’d wait for him to confide in her. And she would answer his questions honestly and completely—if he asked. The answer to “why” had been rattling around in her head since the beginning: leaving his father out of the equation had been the best decision for everyone at the time. At twenty, they’d both been too young, with too much on the line to try to build a life together. It would have been a disaster.
Every year around this time, she debated broaching the topic first and asking Caleb if he wanted to extend an invitation for his father to become involved in his life. Every year, she managed to pull back before she blurted out the words and changed everything.
The idea of sharing her son wasn’t the problem. It was the potential for a disastrous fallout that scared her. Opening herself to those old emotions made her feel vulnerable in ways she’d never learned to overcome. She and Caleb were a family of two, a team where the dynamics were clear. For years, she’d chosen to give Caleb that familiar stability over the unsettling unknowns of a father on a high-profile Military career path.
After dropping the mail on the counter for her, he kept going toward the laundry room, where he dumped his cleats and backpack and stripped off his sweaty socks and shin guards. “How much longer on the cookies?” he asked.
She checked the oven timer. “Give this first dozen another minute before I take them off the cookie sheet. Then they’re fair game.” She plucked a spatula from the utensil carousel on the counter. “Did you have a good day?”
“Pretty much.” He shrugged and eyed the bowl of raw cookie dough.
“Don’t.” Bethany laughed. “I saved you the beater. It’s in the fridge.”
“Sweet!” He lunged for the refrigerator and pulled out the treat.
She pounced on his good mood and stole a hug before he could protest or dodge. Leaning away, she fanned her face. “Whew! Finish that and go grab a shower. You stink.”
“You always say that’s the smell of hard work,” he joked around a mouthful of cookie dough. He hooked a finger around the beater, dragging another chunk of dough into his mouth.
“It is when the smell isn’t a foggy stench in the kitchen. Go.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll try not to eat all the cookies before you get back.”
He dropped the beater into the sink with a clatter and dashed off, his feet pounding on the stair treads. Hopefully the promise of hot cookies would encou
rage him to keep the shower brief.
She flipped through the mail, part of her mind sifting through dinner choices to go with the cookies. The timer went off and she swapped out cookie sheets again. Returning to the mail, she’d decided on spaghetti for the speed and ease, as well as the sheer volume, when her hands landed on an envelope with an official government agency seal in the return address corner.
Seriously? Alone, she let loose an aggravated groan. As a contracts officer for the federal government, she’d heard about the breach of Military personnel records. Last week, it was all anyone could talk about at the office. Since she and most of her coworkers had security clearances at one level or another, they were aware their information had likely been compromised, as well.
This must be the formal confirmation that her information had been part of the breach. Good thing she’d taken precautions against personal identity theft years ago. Resigned, she opened the envelope and unfolded the single sheet of paper. Not an official notice at all, despite the proper agency letterhead. The two handwritten lines in the center of the page offered up a message far more sinister.
Your bank records don’t match your income.
Your secret will soon be common knowledge.
Blood rushed through her head, making her feel hot and cold simultaneously. She slumped to a counter stool, the single paper fluttering in her unsteady hands as she tried to bring her racing thoughts into logical order. She only had one secret and Caleb deserved to hear it from her, not some sneaky outsider with a gift for breaking through firewalls.
Addressing a threat like this was outside the scope of any standard identity-theft service. Clearly someone had discovered the banking discrepancy, courtesy of the support Caleb’s father sent her each month, but who would bother to look for something so benign in the first place?
She reached for her phone and snatched her hand back. Through the years, he’d practically begged her to call. Anytime, and for any need, his early letters and voice mails had vowed he’d be there for her and Caleb.