SINGLE FATHER SEEKS...

by Amy J. Fetzer

  Ciara felt her heart catapult and threaten to split her chest. Heat and that delicious tension tightened her muscles, clamping him to her, gripping him with sweet friction. She cradled his face in her hands, watching her world rip apart and come together in his eyes. He rose off his haunches and jammed her down, her legs clamped around his hips and pulling him harder to her.

  He chanted her name as they clung, suspended in a pool of pleasure, absorbing the tide of sensation battering them before it slid quietly away.

  Bryce sank down on the bed, and Ciara looked at him, their bodies still locked.

  "What is it, darlin'?" She looked scared all of a sudden.

  Her gaze swept his handsome features. She licked her lips. "I love you," she said, her throat raw. "I love you. I love your baby, I love your friends."

  "You do?"

  Her smile was small and tight.

  "It's okay if you don't love me. I know you had it rough with—"

  "Hush," he said wiling her to her back. "I haven't ever said this to a woman—"

  "Don't," she said, clamping two fingers over his lips. "Don't you dare say it if you don't mean it, Bryce Ashland, or I swear I'll kick your butt."

  He grinned. "I just bet you will."

  Shifting to his side he gazed down at her, his fingers toying with a lock of her hair. Bryce didn't feel fear or reservations, all he felt was the emotions he'd bottled up for so long.

  He took a deep breath and said, "I love you, Ciara."

  Tears wet her eyes and she traced her finger across his lips over his cheeks. One tear rolled down her cheek and stole his heart.

  "Aw, honey."

  "No one's ever loved me Bryce. No one."

  "I do, darlin. I really, really do."

  She kissed him and they sank into each other, and Ciara swore, at this moment, she'd never been happier.

  * * *

  Bryce stared lazily out the window of his office when he should be working. Yet his mind wouldn't rest. For the past week, he'd been reluctant to leave his own house and the woman within. He didn't think it was legal to be this happy, he thought. Ciara occupied his every thought and he wondered if everyone who was in love felt this way, then he didn't care. He had what he'd thought was impossible and now he had plans to make, big plans, he thought as he glanced down at the velvet box lying on his desk.

  He had to do this right. Because he wanted it to be memorable but he knew that Ciara had little love in her life. She seemed to absorbing all she could, storing it up and when she'd told him about walking out on her family, he'd realized she was more alone than he ever was. And he planned on correcting that soon. But for now, he had a future to start, he thought, and was about to reach for the box when someone popped into his office.

  "Mr. Ashland," Bryce's secretary said in her usual low tone. "There's a call for you on line three."

  "Ciara?"

  Lisa smiled, amused. "No sir, someone named Steve Hartlan."

  Bryce's features tightened and he nodded. As she left, he stared at the blinking light on the phone. He'd forgotten all about that. When Ciara had first started working for him, before their relationship had changed, he'd called in a few favors, asking an old friend to run a check on her. As a father, he had every right to check his new nanny's background.

  His mind filled with the images of Ciara and he swore his love for her grew. He almost couldn't breathe when he thought of her, and he didn't want anything to change between them.

  And he wondered if this phone call would make a difference.

  He almost called Lisa back into his office to tell the caller he wasn't in, but he owed Steve the courtesy. Bryce hesitated, clamping his eyes shut and hoping to God that Ciara didn't learn about this. She'd never forgive him, but Bryce decided that for the sake of their future, he had no choice. Why was he so damned suspicious? Was it because she'd been that way from the start? Or that because she was telling him things about her past, yet still keeping the past several years in a vague scenario of traveling around the world? She'd mentioned something like eating Moroccan food in Tripoli and when he'd pursued it, she'd given him a response that was so generic, he couldn't accept it.

  The thought of her lying to him twisted in his gut. He'd given her no reason to, tried to make her feel that she could trust him. He wanted to start a life with her. And if she wasn't going to help them get there, then he'd do it himself.

  He reached for the phone and punched the button. "Hello, Steve."

  "Hey buddy. Boy, did you ever ask for a big favor."

  "Really, how so?"

  "Well, there is nothing on this Ciara Stuart. I spelled it five different ways, ran her description through and nothing. At least nothing I could find."

  Bryce frowned. Steve had connections to databases that included FBI and Interpol. "What do you mean?"

  "I mean I hit dead end after dead end, buddy. According to records, Ciara Stuart doesn't exist."

  "Did you try the first name alone?"

  "Yes, and I got about fifteen million women with that name. Want to come down here and look through the files?"

  "No. That was the favor."

  "Listen, Bryce. I don't know who she is to you, but I'd be asking a lot of questions."

  "Oh, I will. Believe me."

  Bryce thanked Steve, said goodbye then hung up. He picked up a pen tapping it against his lips, then a moment later, he tossed it aside and left the chair.

  "I'll be out for the rest of the day," he said to Lisa as he walked through the reception area.

  "But sir, you have appointments."

  "Cancel them," he growled as he strode out the door.

  He would find Ciara, and learn all he needed. Now.

  * * *

  Bryce found her in Carolina's bedroom, her arms filled with his daughter. She was swaying back and forth, singing "Nothing Could Be Finer," as she lulled his baby into her nap. His heart nearly broke at the sight and he hated to be thinking what he was thinking.

  She'd lied. And she'd lied from the start.

  She laid the baby down in her crib, and swept a light blanket over Carolina, pausing to touch her hair.

  His chest felt suddenly tight, his heart beat hard. She turned and saw him and her smile caught him in the chest like a hammer. She came to him, kissing him. Bryce grabbed her against him devouring her mouth wanting his suspicions to leave him alone and let him have this bit of happiness. He told himself he didn't care, but he did.

  He hated it, but he did.

  "Whoa," she whispered when he drew back.

  Then she frowned at his harsh look.

  "What's wrong?"

  He didn't say anything and grabbed her hand, dragging her down the hall to the master bedroom.

  "Okay, now I know." She laughed softly.

  "No, you don't."

  "Bryce?" She pulled free and he swung around to face her. The hard look on his face sent claws of trepidation up her spine. "Why are you acting this way?"

  "Ciara," he said in a low voice, grasping her by the arms and dragging her close. "I want a life with you, I want more than just this temporary feeling like I'm going to lose you any second."

  "You won't."

  "Then tell me what you've been hiding."

  She gazed into his eyes and knew it had come, that moment.

  Ciara fought the harsh reality encroaching on her heart.

  The look on her face made his shoulders sag and he whispered, "Can't you trust me with whatever it is that's eating at you? I can see it, baby, you try to hide it, but I can feel it."

  She pressed her head to his chest. "Oh, Bryce."

  He rubbed his hands over her back, thinking she might be witness protection, and awaiting the trial. "Trust me, baby."

  She tipped her head back, going up on her toes to kiss him. "Okay."

  He let out a long sigh. "Tell me what's going on."

  She stepped back and met his gaze. "I'm trusting you with this when it could mean my life."

  Witness,
he thought. He was sure of it.

  "I work for the government," she said.

  His features sharpened. "No, you don't."

  Her brows shot up. "I thought you wanted the truth?"

  "I do."

  "Well this is it, I work for the government."

  "How can you when there is no record of you?"

  She paled, her features going slack.

  "There's nothing on Ciara Stuart. No social security card, no job record, taxes, nothing on you."

  "Oh God," she whispered as the realization hit her. "You had me investigated."

  Bryce tensed and bit out, "Yes."

  "How much investigating did you do?"

  Bryce scowled at the horror in her expression, the way her voice trembled.

  "How much?" she shouted when he didn't answer right away.

  "When you first came here, I asked a friend to check you out. I'd forgotten about it 'til he called today. But it was a deep enough search to know that on paper, you don't exist."

  She cursed and rushed from the room, her bare feet slapping the wood floors as she ran down the hall to her bedroom. Throwing open the closet she reached for her suitcase, pulling it out and tossing it on the bed.

  "You're leaving? Now, without talking?"

  "No, I'm not leaving. But you have no idea what you've done," she said and unzipped the case, pulling out her computer and phone, then shoving the suitcase aside to sit on the bed.

  He grasped her hands, stopping her. "Why don't you just tell me?"

  "You asked me to trust you, Bryce. So I am. With my life."

  His features went taut. "What are you saying?"

  She opened the laptop, booting it up and plugging in the phone. "That your little investigation could get me killed."

  * * *

  Chapter 12

  « ^ »

  Fear lanced through Bryce as he watched her fingers glide over the keys and was struck speechless as he recognized equipment that was not on the market, not offered to the average citizen. He watched the screen, the red line hopping over the U.S. across the sea and bouncing over three continents, then back across the ocean. She's routing a phone line, he thought and considered where she'd learn that. And why. The red marker stopped somewhere in Virginia.

  Instantly he knew she was calling government headquarters in Langley, Virginia.

  An icy foreboding crawled up his spine and it could mean only one thing. One option he'd never have suspected.

  She wouldn't look at him as she spoke into the phone.

  "Patterson," her boss said on the line. "Indigo Alpha 4-0-8. Scramble the line." Ciara was shaking, panic like she'd never experienced battering her as she waited for the appropriate clicks, counting them in her mind.

  "Is he in?" she demanded when the scramble was in place.

  "Where the hell have you been? I've been trying to reach you. Where are you?"

  "Never mind where I am, is he in?" she nearly shouted into the phone, coming to her feet and pacing.

  "Yes, he's locked up tight, but you have to come in, too."

  Ciara shoulders sagged and she shoved the keyboard aside and rubbed her face. Thank God. "I will."

  "Now. That was very clever to send the tape to the senator and the letter to me. Didn't trust me, Caldwell? That hurts."

  "Too bad. My life was on the line. I had reason not to trust a single soul."

  Without the willpower to stop herself, she lifted her gaze to Bryce. Her heart broke. He was glaring at her as if he wanted to grab her by the throat.

  "You have to come in and be debriefed and…"

  "I'm well aware of the routine, sir," she snapped. "But no, not now."

  "That was an order, Caldwell."

  "Then I will have to disobey it, sir."

  Patterson grumbled on the other end of the line, then conceded. "All right then, when?"

  "I don't know when, dammit, just give me some time." She hung up, disengaging the phone line that connected across the world. She closed the laptop and tossed the phone aside.

  Silence stung the air between them and Ciara breathed deeply, trying to calm herself when her nerves were raw. She turned her gaze to Bryce. "I can't believe you had me investigated."

  "Why not?" He glared. "Your entire life is nothing but damn secrets!"

  "Yes, it is. It was."

  Ignoring her response he said, "Just what agency are you with? FBI, CIA, NIS?"

  Ciara went to her suitcase, flipped it open, and pulled the bottom liner free. Then with a knife bidden there, she cut open the next layer and pulled out a black leather envelope. She opened it, handing him a familiar looking single-fold leather wallet like the one he'd carried in the Secret Service.

  He flipped it open and scanned it. CIA.

  He cursed.

  She winced and felt the precious world she'd bidden in begin to crumble.

  "Caldwell. That explains why I couldn't find anything on you." He tossed her the wallet. "You even lied to me about your name!"

  "I had to. I was protecting myself as much as anyone around me."

  "We were nothing but your cover," he said, appalled.

  "No," she said firmly. "No. I didn't expect you to be here. You know that."

  A spot in him agreed, but he was too furious to acknowledge it.

  "You could trust me with your body, Ciara. With your heart, but not with your life? I could have helped you."

  "No, you couldn't." His gaze hardened like sharp blue glass. "Bryce, listen." She made to touch him, but the dark look in his eyes stopped her. "My partner was working a deal with the wrong side. I saw him do it and got it on film. After covering my back, I turned it in and had to hide 'til they could catch him. Or he would have come after me."

  "Or Carolina, or me?"

  "No. You weren't in danger."

  "And if this plan of yours went bad and your partner got close to you, he would have gotten close to my baby!"

  "I would have died to protect her," she said fiercely.

  "I can protect her, dammit, and if not for you and your lies, I wouldn't have to!"

  "I was trying to stay alive. I couldn't trust anyone."

  "Not even me? Why not me, Ciara?"

  There was a plea hidden beneath his anger, hurt and wounded and wanting so badly to be soothed. "Oh honey, I wanted to, but I knew you would react like this. That day at the store proved it. You asked me to trust you, and now that I am you're screaming at me, cutting me out."

  His expression turned frosty and Ciara felt the distance between them grow. "Was Katherine Davenport in on this?"

  "She gave me the job. She doesn't know why I wanted it."

  "Does she know what you are?"

  What you are, reverberated in her mind. Like a creature, a thing, she thought, and could see his love for her dying before her eyes.

  "Yes. But not even my own family knows."

  "So you left them to be a spy," he said, disgusted. "To use people, to use me."

  "Yes, I did. But I wasn't using you. And you know it. It was my life I was trying to protect. Mark Faraday has seven years experience on me. He could have found me if he knew I'd turned him in. And if he had, he'd have killed me," she said, looking away.

  "How could you be so sure?"

  She brought her gaze back to his. "Because that's what I would have done."

  His expression turned to granite, unfeeling, unmoving, and Ciara saw her past coming back to bite her.

  "This was too serious to keep from me Ciara. I can't believe I didn't see this coming."

  "You weren't supposed to."

  "Yes, you're damn good, I'll give you that."

  She winced. "None of us were in danger until you started snooping around in my past."

  "It isn't your past, is it? You're still CIA. Do you even know who you are?"

  His words cut deep, making the muscles in her chest tighten painfully and threaten her breathing. "I thought I was the woman you loved."

  His features twisted with more
pain.

  "Apparently I'm not even that."

  When he didn't say anything, Ciara knew. She knew. She'd never gain his forgiveness. So she did the only thing she could to save a little dignity. She turned around and walked out of the room.

  Bryce didn't watch her leave. He didn't have to. He could feel the loss seeping through him and stealing his air.

  He sank down onto the bed, cradling his head in his hands. Oh God.

  * * *

  Ciara walked through the stone arch of the George Bush Center for Intelligence and didn't feel what she expected. It wasn't coming home, it didn't make her feel as if she were embarking on an adventure. It simply felt foreign. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she walked down the hall, making a series of turns, riding an elevator and stepping into the almost sterile forbidding environment.

  She'd spent three days debriefing her superiors, the senator and, unfortunately, the director. She refused to tell them where she had been for the past two months until she had a promise from them not to speak with Bryce. She wouldn't involve him more than he was. She wouldn't let them destroy his life anymore than she had. She stilled, pressing her hand to the wall and catching her breath. Oh God this hurts, she thought and forced back the tears.

  She continued down the hall, pushing past the double doors and into her boss's office.

  He barely glanced up. "Caldwell, I'm busy," Patterson barked.

  "Good. This will only take a moment."

  * * *

  Bryce rushed into his daughter's room and found the new nanny pacing the floor, the baby in her arms.

  The young blond woman looked at him. "I'm sorry we woke you, sir. She keeps waking and crying out for her mama."

  "I know," he said, coming close and taking Carolina. "Go back to your room. I'll take care of her."

  The nanny frowned softly, then nodded, and left them alone.

  Bryce sat in the small rocker, and cuddled his daughter close. She settled a little, still whimpering and clinging fiercely to him. She was too young to understand anything beyond the fact that the woman who'd acted like her mother was gone. It was cruel. And Bryce blamed himself. He done what he'd sworn he wouldn't do. Ciara had finally trusted him, and he let her down by rejecting her. By pushing her out of his life. She was a strong independent woman. She'd been alone for years, taking care of herself and the fate of the world. Of course, she would solve her problems herself. And for the hundredth time he wondered where she was, what she was doing.