by Amber Malloy
“Come on, everything will be great. You got a good settlement from the divorce on the count of Parker trying to kill you,” Ava listed off while she kept her eyes on the road. “Your ex-husband will probably be in jail forever, so you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” She gave her a wide-open grin. “And you had the best time of your life while running from the law. How many people can say that?”
Unable to help herself, she smiled. Ava was right. “Not many.”
“And soon, you’ll be on a plane to one of the most beautiful countries on this earth. Come on,” she pushed. “I would say you’re doing better than good.”
“I’m doing okay.”
“Better than okay.” Ava pulled up to O’Hare’s departure curb then reached over to hug her. “I’m just glad you came back safe and sound.”
She gave the tiny diva a fierce squeeze in return. Faster than anyone, Lane would admit she had indeed come back, but not all in one piece. Emotionally, something inside of her was off.
“Drive safe,” she said, close to tears. She hopped out of the truck. If there had been one person she could fully depend on, it was Ava. She wouldn’t have made it through these past few weeks if it hadn’t been for the fashion dynamo in her corner.
Despite the lack of light, she kept her sunglasses firmly in place. Reporters hounded her nonstop for interviews. A few journalists had even staked out Ava’s house for an exclusive peek inside of her life. The press had callously dubbed the case “The Body Snatchers.” At this point, she had no choice but to leave the country.
“Your bags, ma’am?” Lane treated herself to a curbside check-in since security would be such a hassle.
Convinced her flight might be allowed to take off after all, Lane felt better. She grabbed her boarding pass and headed toward TSA’s long line. Shoes off, tablet out, she checked everything off in her head, but then someone rudely bumped into her.
“Sorry,” she apologized as a man’s hand reached out to steady her. “Oh!”
“My fault,” Jax said.
Lane couldn’t help but smile back at the beautiful man.
“We’re together,” he assured the people behind them who’d begun to grumble about his line jumping shenanigans.
“I’m sure I was in your way somehow,” she teased. “I’m not the most organized flyer.”
Happy to see him, but unwilling to make a giddy, squealing fool of herself, she took in everything about him. In three weeks time, he had cut his shoulder-length hair. However, everything else was the same, including his woodsy scent, right on down to worn-out work jeans.
Jackson Thornbird was perfect.
“I’m glad I could catch you before you left,” he whispered, his face inches from hers.
“Where are you going, Jackson Thornbird?” she asked, already dizzy by his closeness. When he was near, she forgot how light-headed and stupid he made her.
“Ahem,” someone cleared his throat. In front of them, the crowd had moved.
“Sorry,” she apologized again.
Jax led her by the arm up to fill the gap. “Italy. Right?”
“That’s where you’re going?” she asked shyly.
“Only if you want me to. We went on one of my adventures.” He moved closer to her lips. “It’s time for one of yours.”
“Fair is fair,” she whispered back.
“Great, but first,” he said with a full-blown smile, backing away from her mouth, “we should go on a date. You see, I fell in love with this girl, and I’ve never even taken her on a date.”
“What a coincidence.” She laughed, deep from her belly as well as her heart. “Because I fell in love with this guy, and we’ve never been on one single date.”
Without another wasted second, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her like he never had before. Warm, wanting, and sweet, their lips touched. Jackson Thornbird showed her exactly what she had missed.
“Sorry, I’m so late,” he said, out of breath when he pulled away. “They took me to Washington for debriefing and then offered me a job.”
“Wow!” Instantly, her current state of euphoria popped. She’d planned to open a coffee shop in Chicago. With Washington almost seven hundred miles away, how would they ever make time to see each other? “What did you tell them?”
“I told them I’d have to talk to you first. There’s a Chicago office, but I would have to go to Quantico for training. Hell, we might want to stay in Italy for the long run.”
“That’s what you told them, huh?” Lane mumbled near his mouth. “Then again, we just might want to live near the nation’s capital.” Barefoot in the security line, she brought him in for another toe-tingling kiss.
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Amber Malloy dreamed of being a double agent but couldn't pass the psyche evaluation. Crushed by despair that she couldn't legally shoot things, Amber pursued her second career choice as pastry chef. When she's not writing or whipping up a mean Snickers Cheesecake, she occasionally spies on her sommelier. Amber is convinced he's faking his French accent.
You can visit Amber at:
www.ambermalloy.com
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