Книга - Breakaway

Breakaway
Rochelle Alers


When E.R. doctor Celia Cole-Thomas is wounded and her fiancé killed in a shootout at the hospital, the only way she can heal her body and her heart is to spend time at her mountain retreat.In her remote cabin on the Tennessee border, she isolates herself from the world–until Gavin Faulkner moves into a nearby lodge. And as hard as Celia tries to stay away, Gavin's friendship and sensuality are slowly bringing her back to life.An FBI special agent, Gavin has been ordered to apprehend a fugitive in the area. The moment he meets Celia, he knows he can't pass up the chance to show this vibrant woman all the passion she's been missing. But his dangerous assignment could shatter the fragile trust they've built, unless he can convince her that love's rewards are worth the risks….








Breakaway




Breakaway

Rochelle Alers







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)




Dear Reader,

Breakaway is the fourteenth novel in the enduring Hideaway series, which continues the themes of family, sensuality and suspense.

In this book you will find out more about Celia Cole-Thomas, a witness to the hospital massacre that left her fiancé fatally injured. To recover from the tragedy, she travels to her vacation retreat in North Carolina while awaiting the trial. There she meets undercover FBI special agent Gavin Faulkner, who is in the area as part of a stakeout operation to apprehend his brother.

Breakaway has all of the hallmarks you have come to expect from Hideaway novels, but with an added bonus—intense, passionate and very sexy love scenes.

I hope that you enjoy the serenity and splendor of the Great Smoky Mountains, the beauty of Virginia’s horse country and the sultry Florida heat as Celia and Gavin willingly risk everything for a newfound love and a future that promises forever.

Yours in romance,

Rochelle Alers








In loving memory of my mother for whom grandchildren are the crown of the aged, and the glory of those who are their parents.


He himself went on ahead of them, bowing to the ground seven times, until he reached his brother.

—Genesis 33:3




Contents


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21




Chapter 1


Dr. Celia Cole-Thomas pulled back the curtain in the cubicle where she’d dressed the sutured forefinger of an elderly man. She immediately heard screams for help in English and Spanish coming from the E.R. waiting room. Her heart rate quickened when she saw two young men in blood-soaked clothing struggling under the weight of a limp body.

“Bring him over here!” She shouted to be heard above the yelling and crying. She motioned to an empty cubicle. “Dr. Jones, help me out here,” she said to the pediatrician who’d rushed over when he’d heard the commotion. Putting on a pair of latex gloves, she grabbed her stethoscope from the pocket of her lab coat, placing it against the chest of a boy whose breathing was becoming shallower with each passing second. “GSW to the chest, and he’s bleeding out fast. Call the O.R.…”

Whatever else she was going to say was drowned out by the sound of gunfire. There was one shot, then another—the rapid fire exploding like cannons shot through the emergency room of Miami’s busiest municipal hospital. At that moment Celia realized the E.R. was under siege. The curtain of the makeshift room was ripped open and she stared into the barrel of a large-caliber handgun. The young boy, gripping the semiautomatic with two hands to steady it, winked at her and her gaze went to the distinctive tattoo on the back of his left hand.

“Step off, doc,” he ordered through the white bandanna covering the lower portion of his face.

It was as if everything was happening in slow motion. The first bullet hit the chest of her patient, the impact causing his body to jerk several inches off the gurney. The second knocked Dr. Yale Trevor-Jones backward. He collapsed on the floor like a rag doll before Celia felt the impact of another bullet slamming into her midsection. The fire in her side spread throughout her body. She placed her right hand against her ribs as blood—warm and acrid-smelling—spilled through her splayed fingers. The shooting and screaming continued as she lay sprawled on the tiled floor, shutting out the sights and sounds of carnage tearing through the E.R. In less than a minute, four people had been injured and six lay mortally wounded.



Celia sat up, her heart racing uncontrollably. Placing a hand over her mouth, she cut off the screams caught in the back of her throat. Rocking back and forth, she cried without making a sound. The nightmare had returned. It’d been almost a year and yet she could not stop reliving the horror of the night that so many innocent people had lost their lives.

Physically she’d recovered from being shot at close range, the bullet having passed through her body and ending up in the wall behind her. But, Celia knew she would never forget the sound of her own voice, when hours later, she’d asked the recovery nurse what had happened and knew by the woman’s expression that many people had died. She didn’t learn the names of the victims until she’d been taken to a private room and her family members had begun arriving en masse. It was her brother Diego who’d finally told her that Dr. Yale Trevor-Jones and Dr. Colton Riley had died that night. Rival gangs had turned Miami Hospital’s E.R. into a killing field. Her patient and three other gang members had also died.

Pulling her knees to her chest, Celia rested her forehead on her knees and waited for her heartbeat to return to normal. She’d taken a medical leave of absence in addition to grief counseling to cope with the death of the man she’d planned to marry—Yale Trevor-Jones—but she still was unable to exorcise the horror caused by Miami’s gang fighting over a very lucrative drug operation.

Images of the days and nights she’d shared with Yale flooded her mind. When she’d met him for the first time she realized immediately that he was different from any of the men in her past. They’d shared the same passion for medicine, the same zeal for helping those without resources in underserved communities. Yale could have joined the family practice begun by his grandfather, treating the children of an affluent Connecticut suburb, but instead he had chosen to work in a city hospital.

What had made the loss so devastating for Celia was that she and Yale had planned to open a free clinic in a low-income Miami neighborhood. They’d purchased an abandoned building and had planned to meet with a contractor to renovate the space to include waiting and examining rooms and a place where children could play while waiting to be seen. Yale’s specialty was pediatrics and hers was internal medicine. Their future plans also included adding a pediatric dentist and an ob-gyn.

She slowly looked up when she heard the telephone ring shattering the silence in the large bedroom. Celia knew she had to get away from Miami, even if only for a month or two. Waking up to tropical temperatures, palm trees, the ocean views, the sounds of Spanish interspersed with English and luxury yachts moored along the Intracoastal was a constant reminder of the days and nights she’d lain in Yale’s arms while they’d planned their future.

She reached for the cordless phone without bothering to look at the display. “Hello.”

“¿Cómo estás, Cee Cee?”

A hint of a smile parted her lips when she heard her older brother Diego’s greeting. There was no doubt he was in a good mood. Employees of ColeDiz International, Ltd. were thrilled now that its CEO, Diego Cole-Thomas, had married and become a father. He now greeted them with smiles and effusive handshakes. Before he’d met Vivienne Neal, most people, including family members, found Diego Cole-Thomas cold and intimidating.

“Good morning, Diego.”

“Have you looked at the clock, Celia?”

Sitting upright, Celia took a quick glance at the clock on the bedside table. She groaned inwardly. It was after three in the afternoon. “I suppose I should’ve said good afternoon.”

“Are you still in bed?”

Her brother’s voice had changed, layered with concern that put her on the defensive. “I didn’t know I needed your permission as to when I should and should not go to bed.” Her retort was followed by a long silence, and Celia knew Diego was struggling to control his temper.

“You don’t need my permission to do anything, Celia. It’s just that I’m concerned about you spending so much time by yourself.”

Tears filled her eyes, but she blinked them back. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Diego,” she said before exhaling an audible breath. “I feel better when I’m alone because I don’t have to pretend all is well when it isn’t. Most times I’m okay, but it’s when I dream about what happened that I find myself getting depressed.”

“Are you depressed now?”

She smiled. “I’m fighting it.”

“May I make a suggestion without you biting my head off?”

“Yes. And even if I disagree with you I promise not to bite your head off.”

“I spoke to Nick earlier this morning, and he wants you to stay at the horse farm until you’re called to testify.”

Celia rolled her eyes upward. “Nick knows how I feel about horses. I don’t like them and they don’t like me.”

“It’s not about horses, Cee Cee. It’s about a change of scenery.”

She smiled again. “You must be clairvoyant, big brother, because I was just thinking about leaving Miami for a few months to get my head together.”

“Where are you going?”

“North Carolina.”

“No, Celia. If you go there you’ll be more isolated than in that mausoleum of a house you wander around in.”

“Will it make you feel better if I take a lover for the summer to keep me company?”

“That’s not funny, Celia.”

“Make up your mind, Diego,” she countered. “I know you’ve been talking to everyone because you believe I’m either crazy or going crazy. I’m neither. What I am is mourning the loss of the man I loved, the man who was to become my husband and the father of my children. He was murdered right in front of my eyes, and my only consolation was that I didn’t watch him die. I am going away, and hopefully when I come back I’ll be able to start over.”

There was another brief silence. “Will I see you before you leave?”

“Of course,” Celia said.

She would stay in Florida long enough to see her brother, sister-in-law and nephew, and to spend time with her parents and grandparents before driving up to North Carolina. Perhaps on her return trip she would stop at her younger brother’s horse farm in western Virginia.

Two minutes later, she ended the call, swung her legs over the side of the bed and walked to the en suite bathroom. She’d committed to leaving Miami, and hopefully upon her return she would be able to get her life back on track.

FBI Academy—Quantico, Virginia

Gavin Faulkner reached up in an attempt to loosen the tie under his shirt collar. He stopped and then remembered why he’d worn it. Earlier that morning, he’d gotten a call from his supervisor that he was to meet him at 0900 hours. Bradley MacArthur ended the terse message with a direct order that he wear a suit and tie.

As a special agent working undercover, there were few occasions when he had to wear what he’d referred to as an authorized noose. He much preferred jeans, boots, tees and a pullover sweater. The temperature had to drop several degrees before he deigned to wear a coat or jacket.

“Agent Faulkner, you may go in now.”

Gavin, rising to his feet, stared at the dour-faced woman guarding her boss’s door like a rottweiler about to pounce on an unsuspecting intruder. “Thank you, Ms. Rossen.” He gave her his best toothpaste-ad grin. He knew he’d shocked her because she stared silently at him, her mouth agape.

Ms. Claire Rossen didn’t like him, and the feeling was mutual. The first time he’d been summoned to meet directly with Mac, she’d neglected to inform her boss that the newly appointed undercover special agent had arrived on time when she directed Gavin into his supervisor’s office twenty minutes later.

He’d endured the tongue-lashing about the importance of punctuality, and then calmly asked Mac why he wanted to see him. The question had quickly diffused the career agent’s harangue, and within seconds the two men regarded each other with respect. He smiled at Ms. Rossen as he stepped into the sun-filled office. Much to his surprise, she returned his smile.

“Good luck, Gavin.”

It was the first time Claire had addressed him by his first name. His smile was still in place when he recognized the men sitting at a conference table in a corner of the large office. “Good morning, gentlemen,” Gavin said, greeting and shaking hands with associate directors of the FBI, DEA, ATF and the U.S. Marshals Service. A shudder of excitement rushed through his body when he realized he was to become a participant in a joint Department of Justice operation.

Bradley gestured to an empty chair. “Please sit there, Agent Faulkner.” Gavin sat. It was the only place at the table with a file folder. “Before you examine the contents of the folder in front of you, I want you to know that your name was at the top of the list for this operation.”

Thick, black, silky eyebrows lifted a fraction when Gavin met the resolute stares of the men looking back at him. “Am I correct to assume that I was the only name on the list?” The ATF and DEA officials exchanged barely perceptible smiles.

“Yes,” the assistant Bureau director acknowledged. “Raymond Prentice, aka Ray Peterson, and sometimes known as Roy Perkins has just earned the number-one spot on the Bureau’s Most Wanted List.”

A lump formed in Gavin’s throat, and he closed his eyes for several seconds. His expression was unreadable when he finally opened them. “What happened?”

Bradley laced his fingers together atop the table. “We got word from the inside that his cover was compromised following the kidnapping of the owner of a gun shop near Waynesville, North Carolina.”

“What happened?” Gavin repeated, glaring at his supervisor.

“The plan was to leave no witnesses, but Ray wounded the store owner, who was able to give the police a description of his kidnappers. Ray managed to slip away from the group, and is hiding out in the mountains near the Tennessee border. Right now he doesn’t trust anyone and that includes his government. Gavin, we need you to bring him in.”

“What if he doesn’t want to come in?”

“It will be up to you to convince him to come in,” said the nattily dressed ATF supervisor.

“Who’s his contact on the inside?” Gavin said anxiously, asking yet another question.

The head of DEA field offices cleared his throat. “She’s the girlfriend of one of the men responsible for getting guns across the border to Mexican drug traffickers. She said there’s a contract out on Ray to bring him in dead or alive.”

“How do you gentlemen want him? Dead or alive?”

The ATF director angled his head. “We’d like to bring him alive, but without compromising the most important DoJ joint task force operation we’ve put together in years. We’ve got direct orders from the Oval Office to stop the flow of drugs and killings along the U.S.-Mexican border.”

Gavin clenched his teeth and a muscle twitched noticeably in his lean jaw. “What you’re telling me is that you’re willing to offer up Raymond Prentice as a sacrificial lamb in order to save your mission.”

A bright red flush crept up Bradley MacArthur’s face to the hairline of the mane of shockingly white hair, which had begun turning gray in his early twenties. “Special Agent Faulkner, I shouldn’t have to remind you of the oath each and every one of us took when we joined the Justice Department. If need be, I’d sacrifice my first born if it meant stopping the flow of drugs and putting those responsible for murder and trafficking behind bars for the rest of their natural lives.”

Gavin nodded. “I suppose that answers my question. When do I start and where am I going?” His voice was even, shaded in neutral tones that belied the inner torment of assuming the responsibility of rescuing or killing his own brother—Raymond Prentice.

Bradley unlaced his fingers as he stared at his agent. “We know this is not going to be easy for you. But the fact is you’re the best man for this mission. You’ll only have twenty-four hours to familiarize yourself with the operation before you head out to North Carolina.”

Resting a hand on the file folder stamped OPERATION: Top Gun, Gavin gave each man a long, penetrating look. “This is going to be my last field assignment.”

“What is it you want?” asked the ATF supervisor.

Silence filled the room as Gavin and the fastidious bureaucrat engaged in a stare down. “I want your job,” he said with a sardonic smile. Pushing back his chair, he stood, gathered the folder and inclined his head. “It’s been a pleasure.” Turning on his heels, he walked across the room, feeling the heat from the glares at his back as the four men exchanged glances.

The ATF director recovered quickly. “Why, that ballsy bastard,” he whispered under his breath. “There’s no way in hell he’ll ever get my job.”

Bradley MacArthur’s bushy brows lifted a fraction. “He may not be after your job.”

“But…but you heard what he said, Mac.”

“I heard him, Walter. However, it may be in your best interest to play nice with Faulkner, because he just may be your boss in the very near future. The man is one of the best the Bureau has seen in decades. As a former decorated Army Ranger and with several post-graduate degrees to his credit, Special Agent Faulkner could have any of our jobs at a moment’s notice.”

Gavin closed the door behind him as he winked at Claire Rossen. He walked past her desk to a room where he could sit and read the file on Raymond Prentice. He was serious when he had said he wanted out of the field. In three years he would turn forty, and by that time he knew he would be more inclined to sit behind a desk. What he didn’t want to think about was not finding his brother before the gun traffickers did.




Chapter 2


Celia inhaled a lungful of crisp mountain air wafting through the open windows of her late-model Toyota Highlander hybrid. The exterior temperature on the rear-view mirror read seventy-two degrees, sixteen degrees cooler than what it would’ve been if she’d remained in Miami. It was late May, and south Florida afternoon temperatures were already in the mid-nineties.

She’d left Palm Beach later than she’d planned, and hadn’t been able to make up the time because of a storm front that had stalled over the Southeast. There were times when the rain had come down so heavily, traffic along the interstate had been reduced to a crawl. However, the rain had stopped entirely by the time she reached Asheville, North Carolina’s city limits. The blue-gray haze hovering above the Great Smoky Mountains never failed to make her smile.

Why have I stayed away so long? she thought. The house with three bedrooms, two and a half baths built on more than two acres of lush land with panoramic mountain views had been her first big-ticket purchase once she had gained control of her trust. She’d fallen in love with the region while attending Meharry Medical College in Nashville, Tennessee, and each time she returned it was to wind down from the nonstop pace as an emergency-room critical care physician.

She was luckier than most of the students at medical school. She hadn’t been burdened with six-figure student loans because of her family’s wealth. Her great-grandfather, Samuel Claridge Cole, had established ColeDiz International, Ltd. in 1925 and it was now the biggest family-owned agribusiness in the United States.

Celia was always very low-key when it came to her wealth. She’d shared an apartment with another student in college and in medical school, and had driven an affordable car until she’d earned her medical degree. She knew she’d shocked her mother when she revealed that she did her own laundry instead of sending it out and had learned to cook rather than eat in restaurants or order takeout.

Celia and her two brothers had grown up in a household with a live-in housekeeping staff, a full-time chef, drivers and a grounds crew. When her college roommate—who had come from a poor Detroit neighborhood and was on full academic scholarship—called her spoiled and pampered, Celia took offense and refused to talk to her for a week. The stalemate ended when she asked her roommate to show her how to do laundry. Learning how to separate whites and colors segued into shopping for groceries and eventually cooking lessons. After four years, Celia and Rania Norris were not only roommates and friends, but sorority sisters.

Even her fiancé had been completely in the dark when it came to her wealth until she’d purchased an oceanfront mansion from her cousin. Nathaniel Thomas-Mitchell had designed the prize-winning showcase house as a wedding gift for his bride. But after the drowning death of their two-year-old daughter, Nathaniel and Kendra divorced. Eventually they relocated to Chicago, reconciled and remarried. Celia had bought the six-bedroom, seven-bath house, hoping she and Yale would raise their children there, and then grow old together.

She and Yale had had their first serious argument because he’d felt she hadn’t trusted him, and that she’d thought if he’d known of her wealth he would have proposed marriage because of her money. He’d admitted that he would marry her even if she were a pauper. Fortunately, she wasn’t destitute.

She was only a few miles from downtown Waynesville when she decided to stop at a supermarket in a shopping center. Not only did she need to fill the pantry and refrigerator, but she also needed cleaning products. It had been more than a year since she’d been at the house and she hated to imagine what would greet her when she arrived. There was no doubt that the house would be filled with dust and cobwebs, but hopefully nothing more. When she’d locked up the house last summer, she had emptied and cleaned the refrigerator, then unplugged it. She hadn’t had to concern herself with break-ins because she’d installed a security system that was linked directly to the sheriff’s office and fire department. Her nearest neighbor e-mailed her once a week to give her updates on the property.

Maneuvering into a parking space near the entrance to the supermarket, Celia cut off the engine and got out of her SUV. Reaching for a shopping cart, she walked into the market and was met with a rush of cool air from the air-conditioning.

Gavin stood in the supermarket produce aisle, checking the fresh herbs and vegetables in his shopping cart with what was listed on a recipe card for the Thai salad he’d planned to prepare for dinner. The recipe called for two different types of cabbage, but with more than half a dozen varieties on display, he was a little confused.

He’d just moved into a nearby cabin, compliments of the government, and had spent the past two days settling in. Gavin did not mind eating out, but he’d recently begun preparing his own meals in an attempt to eat healthier.

“Excuse me, miss, but can you please tell me the difference in these cabbages?”

Celia stopped filling a plastic bag with peaches. She stared at the tall, solidly built man with stubble on his lean brown jaw. His large dark eyes and strong masculine features made for a strikingly attractive image. He was casually dressed in a white tee, jeans, boots and a well-worn black baseball cap.

“It all depends on what you want to prepare,” she said.

Gavin went completely still when the woman with a profusion of black curls grazing the nape of her neck turned to face him. Her small round face reminded him of a doll with her large dark eyes, pert nose and a temptingly curved mouth. He knew it was impolite to stare, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from her flawless face, which was the color of brown velvet. Even her voice matched her face. It was low and very sexy.

He blinked. “What did you say?”

Celia smiled, dimples dotting her cheeks like thumb-prints. “I said it all depends on what you want to make.”

“Slaw—it’s a spicy Thai slaw.” Gavin couldn’t believe he was stammering like an awkward adolescent.

“Perhaps you should try the Savoy or Napa cabbage.” Leaning over, she tried reading what was written on Gavin’s index card. “What does your recipe call for?”

Gavin gave her a sheepish grin, revealing a mouth filled with straight white teeth. “I guess I forgot to write down the type of cabbage.”

“You can’t go wrong with the Savoy or Napa.”

“You must be a fabulous cook.”

Her eyebrows flickered. “Why would you say that?”

“You know right off the top of your head which type of cabbage I should use.”

Celia wanted to tell him that if it hadn’t been for Rania she wouldn’t have been able to boil an egg. “It’s just common sense. Asian dishes call for Asian ingredients.”

“Sometimes common sense isn’t that common,” he quipped. “Do you shop here often?”

Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Celia asked, “Not really. Why?” Whenever she’d come to Waynesville for more than a week, she would visit the supermarket to restock her pantry. However, if she’d planned to stay for an extended weekend, then she shopped at the smaller downtown markets and variety stores.

“I need soba noodles, and I’d hoped you would know which aisle they were in.”

“If they do carry them, then you’ll probably find them in the aisle with the other imported products.”

Gavin shook his head. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Celia wanted to tell the gorgeous stranger that either he truly lacked common sense or he’d embarked on a cooking project that exceeded his culinary expertise. “Good luck with your spicy Thai slaw.”

“Thank you for your invaluable assistance.”

Turning back to her shopping cart, she glanced at its contents. She’d selected seasonal fruits, fresh herbs and vegetables. All she needed was dairy and then she would head home.

She pushed her cart away from the produce section slowly, glancing over her shoulder at the delicious-looking man. Her pulse quickened when she saw him standing motionless, staring at her. Raising her hand, she waved, and then turned down another aisle.

Twenty minutes later, she pushed her cart out to the parking lot and transferred her groceries from the cart to the cargo area of the vehicle. As soon as she sat behind the wheel, her eyelids felt heavy. She’d been on the road more than twelve hours. Her plan to clean the house would have to wait. After all, she had tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and the rest of the summer to do all she needed to do before returning to Miami. She hoped when she did return to Miami that she wouldn’t be the same woman who’d left.



Celia unlocked the door to the house she regarded as her sanctuary, a place to heal. What she didn’t want to do was relive the last time she’d come with Yale. Miraculously, they had been able to coordinate four days of vacation and they’d traveled to North Carolina to unwind. Four days stretched into six when a freak snowstorm blanketed the Blue Ridge and Great Smoky Mountains, and they were trapped inside until the roads were cleared. It would be the last time she and Yale would spend time together in what he’d always referred to as “the mountains.”

She deactivated the security system and walked in, wrinkling her nose when she encountered a buildup of heat and muskiness. Within minutes she flicked on lights and opened windows. Clean mountain air swept into the rooms through the screens, quickly dispelling the stale odor. The imprint from the bottom of her running shoes was clearly outlined in the layer of dust covering the wood floors. Yale had chided her for covering the furniture with dustcovers, but the diligence then now saved her hours of housework.

Her intent to clean the house tomorrow had changed when Celia realized the daunting task she couldn’t put off until the next day. It took four trips to her car to bring in her luggage and groceries. She discovered a spurt of energy when she cleaned the refrigerator, vacuumed the floors, dusted furniture, cleaned the bathrooms and made her bed.

The sun had set behind the mountains, taking with it the warmth of the day when Celia sat on the wraparound deck outside her second-floor bedroom, sipping from a mug of steaming coffee. She’d showered, changed into a pair of cotton pajamas and then added a thick cotton pullover and socks to ward off the cooler night air.

Without the bright lights from hotels, towering office and high-rise apartment buildings the stars in the nighttime sky appeared brighter, closer. Closing her eyes, Celia felt a gentle peace sweep over her body. It was as if she’d come to her own private world where she didn’t want for anything. All she had to do was wake up, eat, drink, walk, read, watch television, go to bed and then get up to do it all over again.

Now she understood why people dropped out of society to become recluses. It took too much effort to make it through each day. She’d been trained to save lives. And yet, she’d stood by and watched a boy take the lives of her patient, fiancé and another doctor before he was shot by another boy. What Celia hadn’t been able to grasp was that all of the gang members were sixteen and younger. Instead of hanging out at the mall, flirting with girls or tinkering with cars, they’d carried guns not to protect themselves, but to savagely and arbitrarily take the lives of other human beings.

Now, Celia, don’t get maudlin. The inner voice, the one she called her voice of reason, pulled her back to center and helped her maintain a modicum of stability. She took another deep swallow of coffee and placed the mug on a low table before settling deeper into the cushioned chaise.

She closed her eyes again and moments later succumbed to a dreamless slumber where there were no screams, bullets or tears.



Gavin felt restlessness akin to an itch he wasn’t able to scratch. He’d prepared the slaw, and the results were even better than he’d expected. He’d also prepared a three-bean salad, grilled chicken and sweet tea.

Leaving the government-registered SUV parked in the garage, he’d set out on foot to familiarize himself with the surrounding countryside. His brother was out there, hiding in the mountains and/or forest from a group of ruthless men and women who were ordered to kill him on sight.

Gavin hadn’t seen or spoken to his brother in more than two years. Raymond Prentice had been so deep undercover that if he hadn’t recognized his eyes, Gavin wouldn’t have known who he was. Ray could change his appearance by losing or gaining copious amounts of weight. He would shave his head, grow his hair, beard and affect different accents. Although the wounded gun-shop owner had given law enforcement officials an accurate description of Raymond Prentice, the technicians at the Bureau had subtly altered the mug shot to disguise the undercover agent’s features.

Born Orlando Wells, he’d become Gavin’s foster brother when Gavin’s mother took him in after he’d been placed in her care by a fellow social worker. Orlando didn’t remember his drug-addicted parents, and at nine hadn’t shed a tear when told of their deaths from an overdose of crack cocaine. Malvina Faulkner legally adopted Orlando and after college and a stint as a Navy SEAL, he was recruited by the ATF. Orlando Wells Faulkner had become Raymond Prentice and anyone they wanted him to be.

His younger brother had always been a risk taker, and if Orlando survived this undercover mission, Gavin would do everything within his power to convince him to leave the ATF. Their mother’s greatest fear was that after burying her husband, who’d died in the line of duty, she would also bury one or both of her sons. The elder Faulkner, a former Vietnam War Green Beret, joined the Bureau as an undercover agent. He’d infiltrated a radical group in the early 1980s, but lost his life during a confrontation between group members and the police.

Gavin continued walking along the shoulder of a narrow two-lane road. He’d estimated he’d walked half a mile and a total of eight cars had passed going in either direction. The population of Waynesville was about ten thousand, and that meant most long-time residents were familiar with one another. However, during the summer the number of tourists visiting the mountain region swelled the numbers appreciably.

Being on the run during the summer months and attempting to hide out in a tourist area was advantageous for the undercover agent, but would prove to be the opposite for Gavin because it would make his search more difficult.

His orders dictated that he work alone, without the assistance of regional agents or local law enforcement. The members of the joint task force did not want anything or anyone to compromise their attempt to eradicate a gun-trafficking network spanning more than twenty states.

Gavin knew what lay ahead was a daunting task, but he had to cover acres of virgin forests, mountain caves and miles of streams to rescue the FBI’s Most Wanted before the gun traffickers found him.




Chapter 3


Gavin decelerated when he spotted a dark shape in the middle of the road. He’d spent most of the morning driving along Route 44l, which led into the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. He’d walked the trails, searching for Orlando Faulkner. After more than six hours, he’d decided to head back to Waynesville.

He’d gotten up before sunrise to plan his strategy. He’d gone over a map detailing western North Carolina, highlighting the many cities he’d planned to visit ranging as far east as Black Mountain. His travels would take him south to Hendersonville and Flat Rock, then northwest to Asheville and as far west as the Great Smoky Mountains, and if necessary, into Tennessee.

Slowing and pulling off onto the shoulder, he got out of the truck, his right hand pressed to the automatic tucked into his waistband under his T-shirt. Going to one knee, he saw a small dog. Each time it attempted to move, it let out a small whimper.

He rested a hand lightly on the canine’s back. “What happened to you, buddy?” Gavin’s head popped up when he heard the sound of tires on the roadway. A car was coming closer. Standing, he waved his arms over his head, motioning for the motorist to stop. Fortunately, there was still enough daylight for whoever was driving the vehicle to see him.



Celia saw the figure of a man standing in the middle of the road, waving frantically. She pushed a button on the steering wheel, raising the driver’s-side window. Slowing, she stopped within feet of the man she recognized as the one who’d asked her about cabbages two days before.

She lowered the window with his approach. “What’s the matter?”

Gavin smiled, despite the seriousness of the situation. He’d grown up around pets, but it was dogs that were his personal favorite. Orlando liked cats because he claimed they were silent and unpredictable. His brother would pretend to be a cat and try and sneak up on Gavin before he detected his presence. Eight out of ten times he was successful.

He leaned into the window. “There’s an injured dog in the road.”

Celia pushed open the door, but Gavin wouldn’t let her get out. “Let go of the door.”

He shook his head. “You don’t need to see it.”

Her eyes grew wider. “Is it dead?”

“No.”

“Then, let me see it.”

“No,” Gavin repeated.

“I’m a doctor,” she finally said.

Gavin froze. “You’re a vet?”

“No! I’m a medical doctor. Now, get away from the door so I can look at the poor creature.”

He took a step back, opening the door and reaching for her hand to assist her. As his gaze swept over the woman who claimed she was a doctor, a slow smile tilted the corners of his mouth. The other day she’d worn a pair of jeans, a baggy T-shirt and running shoes. Today she looked softer, more feminine in a white tank top she’d paired with a pair of black cropped pants and leather sandals. The delicate pink polish on her bare toes matched her fingernails. A black-and-white striped headband held a profusion of curls off her face.

His gaze lingered on her profile when she knelt to examine the whimpering canine. “What’s wrong with him?”

Celia glanced up at the man towering over her. “He has a laceration near his belly. And judging from the swelling, it’s infected.” She stood up. “I need for you to pick him up and place him on the rear seat of my truck, while I call to find a number for the nearest vet.”

“I’m going to put him in my truck, while you pull yours off the road,” Gavin countered.

Celia rolled her eyes at him. “Whatever. Just be careful with him.”

“How do you know he’s a male?”

“I know he’s a he because I checked. And, he’s also a puppy. He still has his milk teeth.” When she’d opened his mouth, two tiny rice-like particles fell into her palm.

She returned to her vehicle, maneuvering it over to the shoulder behind the black GMC Yukon hybrid. Reaching for her BlackBerry, Celia called information, pen and paper ready to jot down the number. Her heart sank when the operator gave her numbers of veterinary hospitals more than twenty miles away. She called each one only to find they were closed. The only one with evening hours was in Asheville.

Getting out, she approached the man wearing a pair of khaki walking shorts, thick white cotton socks, Doc Martens, a black tee and matching baseball cap. She didn’t know his name or anything about him, but he was the most virile-looking man she’d ever seen.

“Where am I taking him?” Gavin asked.

“You’re going to take him to my house. All of the vets in the area are closed and the nearest one with evening hours is in Asheville.”

Gavin shot her a suspicious look. “What are you going to do?”

“Clean his wound. Now, stop jawing and follow me. Please drive slowly. He’s already in enough pain without you jostling him further.”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.”

“The name is Celia Cole-Thomas.”

“What’s your husband going to say when you bring home a strange man and injured dog?”

“I don’t have a husband, Mr.—”

Gavin was hard-pressed not to smile. He didn’t know why, but he’d hoped the tall, slender woman with the infectious dimpled smile wasn’t married. “It’s Faulkner. Gavin Faulkner.”

“Let’s go, Mr. Faulkner. Every minute that puppy doesn’t get medical attention gives the infection the advantage.”

Celia slipped behind the wheel, maneuvering around the Yukon with North Carolina plates, and drove in the direction of her house. She didn’t want to get stopped for speeding although she’d wanted to get home to set up a mock operating room before Gavin Faulkner arrived.

Her parents had given her a genuine alligator medical bag stamped with her monogram the day she’d graduated medical school. She could still recall the joy of filling the bag with bandages, scissors, forceps, scalpels, syringes, gauze and medication she replaced whenever they passed their expiration date.

She parked in the driveway rather than in the two-car garage. Moving quickly, she got out, unlocked the door and disengaged the alarm, while leaving the front door open.

She retrieved her bag, spread a stack of towels on the table in the kitchen’s dining area and turned a hanging light fixture to the brightest setting. She’d placed two pairs of latex gloves and the instruments needed to clean and suture the wound in the dog’s side on a folded pillowcase when Gavin walked into the kitchen, cradling the puppy to his chest.

“Put him down on his uninjured side,” Celia ordered Gavin. “After I wash up I want you to do the same.”

His eyebrows lifted a fraction. “Why?”

She gave him a dimpled smile. “You’re going to be my assistant.”

“Oh, hell, no,” Gavin protested.

“Oh, hell, yes, Gavin Faulkner! If you didn’t care about this animal you never would’ve stopped. Now, stop sniveling and do as I tell you.”

Gavin glared at Celia. He wasn’t sniveling. In fact, he’d never sniveled about anything in his life. He wanted to tell her only girls sniveled but didn’t want her to think he was a sexist.

Celia took his silence as acquiescence. “Please watch him while I go and wash up.”

Taking off his cap, Gavin tossed it on one of the four chairs at the oaken round table. His gaze shifted between the motionless puppy and Celia’s retreating back. He hadn’t realized how slim Celia was until he saw her from the back. She was taller and much slimmer than women who usually garnered his attention. At six-four and two hundred twenty pounds, he liked women who were a bit more substantial than the sharp-tongued doctor.

He’d only mentioned the possibility of her being married because of her hyphenated last name. There were many professional women who’d elected to keep their maiden names.

Exchanging places with Celia, Gavin went into the half bath off the kitchen to wash his hands and forearms. He felt like an actor stepping into a fictional role as a surgeon when using a nail brush and antibacterial soap to scrub his fingers. Shaking off the excess water, he returned to the kitchen. Standing only inches from Dr. Celia Cole-Thomas, he smiled down at her head when she dabbed his arms and hands with a towel before holding a pair of latex gloves for him to slip on.

“Damn, Doc, they’re too tight.”

Celia shot him a frown. “Stop whining, Gavin. They won’t be on long enough to cut off your circulation.” He tried flexing his fingers. “Stop that or you’ll rip them,” she added, this time in a softer tone as she slipped her hands into a pair of gloves.

“Why do I have to wear them if you’re going to perform the procedure?”

“I’m operating in what is a non-sterile environment. I’m going to put Terry under, and I’m going to need you to hold him steady.”

Gavin gave her a sidelong glance. “When did he become Terry?”

“He’s a fox terrier, therefore, he’s Terry.”

“You can’t name someone else’s dog, Doc.”

“Stop calling me that. And I doubt if he’s anyone’s pet. He’s filthy and undernourished, which means he’s probably a stray.”

Celia ripped open a package with a sterile syringe and inserted it into a bottle of morphine, filling the syringe with a small amount of clear liquid. “Please hold him, Gavin. He’s going to feel a little prick.”

Gavin held the puppy’s head between his palms. “How do you know how much to give him?”

“It’s based on body weight. I doubt if this little guy weighs more than seven pounds. You, on the other hand, would have to be injected with the entire bottle before you’d go out.”

His eyes narrowed. “What are you trying to say?”

Celia swabbed an area on the puppy’s hip, wiping away dirt and debris. If she’d had the time, or if the wound hadn’t been infected, she would have given the dog a bath. She gave Gavin a quick glance. “You’re at least six-four or five, and I’m willing to bet you weigh about two-twenty or thirty, and that translates into injecting you with a lot more morphine to put you down than what I’m going to give Terry.”

Gavin exhaled an audible breath. “I really don’t like the term put down.”

Terry let out a small yelp with a prick of the needle. Seconds later he lay completely still. His ribs were clearly visible under a sparse coat of grimy, light-colored wiry fur.

Celia winked at Gavin, her gaze lingering on his cropped black hair. “Not to worry, Mr. Faulkner, I promise not to put you down. You can let go of his head now.”

Concentrating intently, she shaved the area around the wound and cleaned the infected flesh. She applied a topical antibiotic then closed the laceration with small, even sutures.

Gavin leaned over to survey her surgical skill. “You do very nice work, Dr. Thomas.”

“Thank you. You can take your gloves off now.”

“When is he going to wake up?”

“He’ll probably sleep for the next two to three hours. I’m going to call the animal hospital in Asheville to let them know I want to bring him tomorrow for an observation. After that, I’m going to try and clean him up.”

“I’ll do that,” Gavin volunteered as he gently lifted the puppy off the table.

Celia gave him a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yes, I’m very sure. Where are you going to wash him?”

“We’ll use the mudroom.”

She led the way across the kitchen to a side door that led to an unheated mudroom. It was where she stored garden equipment and did her laundry. She filled two plastic basins: one with warm water and a mild shampoo and the other with lukewarm water for rinsing. Reaching for cleaning cloths from a stack in a canvas basket, she spread them out on the utility table attached to a wall.

“Gavin, please try and not wet the sutures.”

“I’ll be careful,” he said as she turned and walked out.

He dipped a cloth into the soapy water, wringing out most of the moisture, then began the task of washing and rinsing the grime covering the puppy’s fur. Gavin poured out the water, refilling each bin before he was able to discern the white coat with a faint tan patch of color on the back of the neck, back and above the tiny tail. Wrapping a fluffy towel around the canine, he picked him up and dropped a kiss on the top of his head.

Celia stopped in the doorway to the mudroom, smiling when she saw the tender moment between Gavin and the dog. There was something about him that enthralled her. The longer she remained in his presence, the more she knew it had nothing to do with his face or body.

Even as an adolescent, she’d never been one to find herself attracted to a boy because he was cute. For Celia, it was always deeper than that. With Yale, it had been his passion for medicine, yet with Gavin she hadn’t been able to identify what it was. For all she knew he could be married with half a dozen children.

When his head came up, he saw her staring at him. “He smells wonderful.”

She smiled. “He looks adorable. I spoke to a veterinarian at the animal hospital, and he’s set up an appointment to see Terry at eleven.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Celia shook her head. “Don’t bother. I can take him.”

“Are you going to be able to hold him while you drive?”

“Maybe I’ll ask my neighbor to go with me if she’s not busy.” Children’s book illustrator Hannah Walsh was also a stay-at-home mother. She was now in her last trimester with her second child.

“I’m on vacation which means I have a lot of free time,” Gavin countered. He wasn’t on vacation, but on assignment. Accompanying Celia to Asheville would fit nicely into his plans. He had to present himself as a tourist or garner unwarranted attention.

Crossing her arms under her breasts, Celia angled her head. “I’m also on vacation. But wouldn’t you rather spend your free time vacationing with your family than babysitting an injured puppy?”

She didn’t tell Gavin that she’d been on vacation for the past year. Somehow, she couldn’t bring herself to return to the hospital and relive the horror of the minute that had changed her and her life forever.

A beat passed. “No.”

“Why not, Gavin?”

“Because other than my mother, brother and some cousins, I don’t have much of a family. I’m going with you because I’m concerned about my dog.”

“Your dog? I save his life and you say he’s your dog?”

“Why don’t we compromise?” Gavin suggested.

“How?”

“Since we’re both on vacation, we can share Terry.”

“I’ll agree. But he stays with me until he’s fully recovered.”

He extended a hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

It couldn’t have worked out better for Gavin than if he’d planned it in advance. Hanging out with Celia Thomas would provide the perfect cover when he became the typical tourist, touring the area and asking questions.

Celia offered Gavin her brilliant dimpled smile when she took his hand. Slowly, seductively, his gaze moved from her parted lips to her throat and still lower to her chest before reversing direction. She tried to ignore the eddying sensations racing along her nerve endings. She didn’t know who Gavin Faulkner was, or what he did for a living, yet she’d agreed to share a stray puppy with him.

“Deal.”

Gavin released her soft, delicate hand. “I’ll come by and pick you up at ten.” Turning on his heels, he made his way out the mudroom.

“Gavin?”

He stopped. “Yes.”

“Leave the puppy.”

“Oops,” he said, hiding a grin. “He’s so light I forgot I was holding him.” Celia extended her arms and he handed her the sedated dog. Taking a step, he angled his head and brushed his lips over her cheek. “Kiss Terry for me when he wakes up.”

Celia experienced a jolt of awareness from the press of his mouth on her face. She followed him as he walked through the kitchen, living room and dining area and to the door. She stood in the doorway, staring into the encroaching darkness as nightfall descended on the mountain like someone pulling down a gossamer, navy-blue curtain. She stood in the same spot, staring at the red taillights of Gavin’s vehicle until he disappeared from her line of sight.

Celia found Gavin so compelling, his virility so forceful that he reminded her of what she’d missed—had been missing—for nearly a year.

She wanted a man, but more than that she needed a man to make her feel alive, desirable. She’d joked with her brother about taking a lover for the summer. After meeting Gavin Faulkner, the joke was upgraded to a notion. Besides, she mused, she could do a whole lot worse than the hunky stranger who cooked and had a soft spot for dogs.




Chapter 4


Gavin supported his back against the headboard of the bed in the master bedroom. He’d enjoyed hanging out at this house overlooking a picturesque valley. His temporary residence was a far cry from hotel decor that failed to vary much from one chain to another regardless of the upgrade.

Scrolling through his cell-phone directory, he punched in a secure number, grinning when he heard a familiar voice come through the earpiece. The analyst had the sultriest voice of any woman he’d encountered. Now that he heard it again, there was something in its timbre that reminded him of Celia Thomas’s voice. There was just enough of a drawl in Celia’s cadence to garner his complete attention whenever she spoke.

“Good evening, Vera. When did you switch to nights?”

“I put in the request several months ago when Peter was reassigned to forensics. There’s no way we can afford to leave two teenage boys unsupervised for long periods of time. The last time Peter and I worked days they almost burned the house down. I know you didn’t call to get an overview of my home life, Gavin. What’s up?”

“I need you to run a Florida plate for me.” He gave Vera Celia’s license plate number.

“How much do you want to know about her?”

“Everything from the day she was born.”

“Let me call you back, Gavin.”

“I’ll be here.” Pressing a button, he ended the call. Gavin knew he could count on Vera Sanchez to come up with the information he needed on Celia Cole-Thomas. If he was going to connect with her on a more personal level, then he wanted to know what to expect.

She’d told him that she was a doctor—that was verified by her surgical skills. She’d also said that she was on vacation. He wanted to know where she lived in Florida, her family connections, whether she’d been married, had children and if she’d ever been arrested.

Crossing bare feet at the ankles, Gavin stared at the image of the news anchor on the flat-screen television on the opposite wall. He picked up the remote device and began channel surfing. The late-night news was over, so he had his pick of reruns, movies and infomercials.

When he spoke to Mac, he would thank his supervisor for putting him up in a place and permitting him access to cable television. He found a channel airing a movie about Nelson Mandela and the South African prison official who’d befriended him during his twenty-seven year imprisonment for his opposition to apartheid.

Halfway into the film, Gavin’s cell phone rang and he was loath to answer it. However, he knew he had to take the call. “Faulkner,” he said by way of identifying himself. His cell phone was programmed with voice recognition. If he lost or misplaced his phone and someone attempted to use it, then it would be rendered inoperable within seconds.

“Dr. Celia Cole-Thomas has a very interesting life,” Vera began.

Gavin listened, stunned by the information Vera had come up with on the woman. “Thank you, Vera. You’re invaluable.”

“Always glad to help. Be safe, Gavin.”

“Always, Vera, always.”

He hung up and closed his eyes. He’d never been shot or wounded when he’d served as an Army Ranger or during his tenure as a special agent with the Bureau. But on the other hand, Celia—who’d taken an oath to protect life—had nearly lost hers during a street-gang shootout in a hospital’s E.R., where she’d become an eyewitness to murder.

She’d said that she was on vacation, but what Dr. Thomas hadn’t said was that her vacation was also an extended medical leave.

Gavin wondered if the reason she hadn’t returned to the hospital was because she’d been traumatized by the murders, or because she was still mourning the shooting death of her fiancé.

Forcing his attention back to the film, he temporarily pushed all thoughts of the woman with the dimpled smile and sexy voice to the recesses of his mind.



Celia heard whining and opened her eyes. She sat up and scrambled off the bed. Terry was sitting up in the makeshift bed she’d fashioned from a wicker laundry basket and a pillow. After making certain he’d recovered from the effects of the sedative, she’d driven to a twenty-four-hour Walmart to pick up puppy food and supplies.

Kneeling, she picked up the puppy. He’d soiled the wee-wee pad. “Good morning, baby boy,” she crooned softly. “How are you feeling?” Celia was greeted with a yawn. “Are you still sleepy from the drug?” Terry had become her first non-human patient.

Cradling Terry to her chest, she walked to the French doors, punched in the code on the security keypad on the wall and opened the doors leading out to the deck. She placed Terry on the flagstone surface and returned to the bedroom.

Celia made a mental list of the items she had to purchase from a pet store: bed, crate, lead and harness. She wouldn’t trust the terrier to have the run of the house until he was housebroken.

She wasn’t certain whether Terry would eat, but she knew he had to get some nutrition or he wouldn’t survive. She removed the pad, returned him to the basket, carrying it down the staircase and placing it in a corner between the kitchen and pantry. The puppy’s nose twitched as he surveyed his surroundings.

Sitting on the floor, she attempted to hand-feed the puppy when he sniffed the bowl containing a small amount of dry food. He’d walked away, taking furtive steps. It took Celia forty minutes to coax the dog to eat five pieces of kibble. She was more successful getting him to drink water before settling him on her lap where he curled himself into a ball.

She traced the tan spots with her fingertips. “Don’t get too used to me feeding you, little prince. Once you’re healed, either you’ll eat by yourself or you’ll go hungry.” Terry opened his eyes, staring at her as if he understood what she’d said. Celia sat holding the puppy until it fell asleep, then placed it in the basket and went upstairs to ready herself before Gavin arrived.



Celia patted the moisture from her body with a thick, thirsty towel, and then went through her morning ritual of applying a moisturizer to her face and perfumed cream to her body. She’d just slipped into her underwear when the telephone rang. It was a rare occasion when the house phone rang. Her family and close friends usually called her cell.

Smiling, she lifted the receiver from its cradle when she saw the caller ID. “Good morning, Hannah.”

“Good morning, Celia. I’m sorry to call so early, but I forgot to ask you yesterday if you were going to Florida for the Memorial Day weekend.”

Celia sat on a chair in the bedroom’s dressing area. She’d stopped the day before to visit the woman who’d welcomed her with a pan of scrumptious lasagna and an apple pie the day she’d taken possession of the house.

Hannah Walsh, who’d been a newlywed, had just celebrated the publication of the first book she’d illustrated, and Celia made certain to buy copies for every one of her young cousins. Hannah had taught daycare, and her husband worked night security at a department store while attending classes to earn a criminal justice degree. Five years later, Daniel became a North Carolina state trooper and a father for the first time within the same week.

“No. I’ve decided to hang out here for a while. I’m not certain when I’m going back.”

“If that’s the case, then I want to invite you over for a Saturday afternoon barbecue. Please tell me you’ll come.”

“Of course I’ll come. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“No. We have everything. I just want to warn you that Daniel has invited some of his single buddies and now that they know you’re available, you may get more attention than you want.”

Celia smothered a groan. She was more than familiar with Daniel Walsh’s buddies. They were overly friendly, good-natured and quite vociferous after imbibing one too many beers. She didn’t know if Gavin had plans for the weekend, but if she invited him to go with her, then he would become her buffer.

“Would you mind if I bring a guest?”

“Of course I don’t mind. The more the merrier. I’m going to have as much fun as I can before the baby comes. Having to care for a newborn while dealing with a two-year-old and balancing a career will definitely test my patience and my sanity.”

“You’ll do just fine, Hannah, only because you’re the most organized person I’ve ever met.”

“Don’t you mean obsessive-compulsive?”

“That, too,” Celia teased. “What time should I come?”

“I’m telling everyone to come around two.”

“I’ll see you Saturday at two.” She hung up and glanced at the clock on the fireplace mantel. It was nine-forty. She had to get dressed and be ready to leave by ten.



“Is there something wrong, Gavin?”

Gavin blinked as if coming out of a trance. Celia Cole-Thomas was a chameleon. Each time he saw her she looked different. This morning, she’d brushed her hair off her face and secured it in a twist on the nape of her long, slender neck. A white linen blouse, black tailored slacks and a pair of ballet-type patent leather flats bespoke simple elegance. The pearl studs in her ears matched the single strand around her neck, while a light cover of makeup accentuated her large eyes and lush mouth.

“No,” he admitted. “You look—wonderful.” He’d said wonderful when he’d wanted to tell Celia that she looked beautiful. He took a step, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “And you smell delicious.”

A flush heated her face. Celia wanted to tell Gavin he looked and smelled delicious, too. The aftershave on his clean-shaven jaw was the perfect complement for his body’s natural masculine scent.

“Thank you. Please come in.”

Gavin stepped into the entryway, his penetrating gaze cataloguing the furnishings. The night before, he’d been too involved with helping Celia with Terry to take note of anything.

“How’s Terry?” he asked, following Celia into the living room of the split-level house. The fireplace was the room’s focal point, competing only with the arch in the ceiling paneled with fir and illuminated with concealed strip lighting. The walls, covered with a coffee-colored fabric, complemented varying shades of cream and tan suede and leather on a club chair, love seat and sofa.

Celia smiled at Gavin over her shoulder. “Come and see for yourself.”

Slowing, he glanced around the dining area, mapped out by a border of cherry inlay in the oak flooring. Sunlight coming in through oak-framed French doors spilled over the gleaming waxed floor. A bouquet of yellow and white spring blooms on a cherrywood table added a homey touch.

An island separated the open kitchen—with stainless-steel appliances—and the dining room; the ceiling styles in the two spaces were as varied and intricate as the one in the living room. The ceiling was flat over the kitchen with recessed lighting, while it was pitched over the dining area. Glass inserts in the kitchen cabinets came to the same roof-like peak as the cathedral ceiling over the dining table.

The abundance of wood imbued a sense of warmth and hominess. A cushioned sitting area—reminiscent of a window seat—under a row of windows was the perfect spot to sit, read or survey the activity in the kitchen and dining area at the same time.

“Do you own this house, or are you renting it?” Gavin had asked a question to which he knew the answer.

“I own it.”

“How long have you lived here?” He’d asked yet another question to which he knew the answer.

Celia stopped, turned and stared up the man who made her feel something she didn’t want to feel: desire. Although she’d found herself in love with Yale and planned to marry him, he never evoked the all-consuming desire she felt whenever she and Gavin Faulkner occupied the same space.

The tall man standing in the middle of her kitchen wearing jeans, a navy blue golf shirt with a familiar designer’s logo over his heart and a pair of low-heeled boots gave off waves of sensuality that threatened to smother her with its intensity. He’d removed the stubble, and the strong line of his lean jaw made him even more attractive.

“I don’t live here year-round.”

“You live in Florida.” The query was a statement. “Your truck has Florida plates,” Gavin explained when her eyes grew wider.

“Miami,” Celia confirmed. She’d given Miami the Spanish inflection, it sounding like Me-a-me.

Gavin smiled. “You speak Spanish?”

Celia’s smile matched his. “Sí. I have Cuban roots that go back to my great-grandmother.”

“Every time I go to Miami I put on at least five pounds because I can’t stop eating the food,” he admitted.

“Maybe I’m biased, but I believe Caribbean cuisine is superior to any other in the world.”

Gavin’s expression changed, vertical lines appearing between his eyes when he gave her a level frown. “I wouldn’t exactly say that,” he countered.

“Tell me what’s better than Caribbean cuisine, Gavin?”

He registered the slight reproach in her tone. “Southern cooking. Have you ever had North Carolina-style barbecue pulled pork?”

“No. But I bet it’s not as good as—”

“Don’t say it, Celia,” he said, holding up a hand and interrupting her. “We’ll have a cook-off, and you can prepare your best Cuban dish while I’ll make the pulled pork.”

Celia’s eyes narrowed as she considered his challenge. “Bring it, brother.”

Gavin winked. “You just don’t know what you’re in for, beautiful. I hope you’re not a sore loser.”

Celia returned the wink. “I wouldn’t know because I’ve never lost a challenge. Speaking of barbecue, my neighbor invited me to her house on Saturday to celebrate the holiday. If you’re not doing anything, I’d like you to come with me.”

Crossing muscular arms over his chest, Gavin angled his head. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Celia bit her lip, dimples deepening with the gesture as a flush suffused her face. Her embarrassment was short-lived. “What’s the matter? You’ve never been asked out by a woman?”

“I’ve been propositioned a few times, but I’ve never been asked out.”

“Well, don’t look for me to proposition you, Mr. Faulkner. If you’re not coming with me, then please let me know so—”

“The answer is yes, Miss Thomas.” Gavin agreeing to go with Celia had nothing to do with his mission. He’d agreed because he wanted to spend time with her. Accompanying her would also permit him to pick up bits of gossip from the area residents. “May I ask one question?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you ask me and not some other guy?”

There came another pause as Celia pondered his query. “I asked you because I don’t want to be bothered with some other guy.”

Gavin’s expressive eyebrows lifted a fraction. “So, you want to use me to run interference?”

“Yes.”

He shook his head. “Damn, Doc, you really know how to bruise a dude’s ego.”

Celia rolled her eyes upward. “My heart bleeds for you, Gavin. I’m willing to bet a year’s salary that every second there are at least a hundred dudes somewhere in the world using women for their own selfish reasons.”

Gavin sobered. “I’ve never used a woman.”

“Maybe not you, but I’ve been a victim on a few occasions.”

“Do you like…men?” he asked hesitantly.

“Of course I like men. I was engaged…” Celia’s words trailed off before she could tell Gavin about the ordeal that left her with visible and invisible scars.

“What happened, Celia?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You don’t want to or you can’t?”

“Both,” she confirmed. “Not right now.” She glanced at her watch. “I think we’d better get going or Terry’s going to be late for his appointment.”

Terry began whining when he saw her, his tail moving like a pendulum. “Look at you, baby boy.” Leaning over, she picked him up. “You’re almost good as new.” Turning him around, she stared at his side. “I take that back.”

Gavin moved closer. “What’s the matter?”

“He’s biting the stitches. He’s going to need one of those plastic collars.” Celia wrapped Terry in a towel, handed him off to Gavin while she locked up the house.

“I’ll drive,” Gavin said, opening the passenger-side door to his vehicle. He handed her the puppy. Placing his hands around her waist, he lifted her and Terry effortlessly and settled her on the seat.

“Show-off,” Celia teased.

Gavin ignored the taunt. Picking her up was like lifting a child. His fingers had spanned her waist with room to spare. Either Celia Cole-Thomas was naturally thin or anorexic. He’d hoped it was the former.

Rounding the vehicle, he slid in beside her and started the engine. “Give me the address to the hospital and I’ll program it into the GPS.” There were less than thirty miles between Waynesville and Asheville, and barring traffic delays they would arrive within half an hour.

Belted in, Celia settled back to enjoy the passing landscape. She didn’t want to think about the man sitting less than a foot away. She’d asked a man, a stranger, to accompany her to a friend’s get-together. What made it so incredible was that she knew nothing about him beyond his name. If they were to present themselves as a couple, then she needed to know more.

“What do you do for a living?”

“I’m in personal security.” The lie rolled off Gavin’s tongue as smoothly as honey. It was a lie he’d told so often that he could repeat it even if he’d been injected with a truth serum.

Celia turned to stare at his strong profile. “What’s the difference between regular security and personal security?”

“People hire me to protect their person.”

“Rich people?” she asked.

Gavin nodded. “Have you seen the film Man on Fire with Denzel Washington?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m Jon Creasy without being the hard-drinking, burned-out CIA operative.”

Celia sat up straighter. “Are you armed now?”

Gavin stared out behind the lenses of his sunglasses. He knew he had to tell Celia the truth because he was mandated to carry a firearm while working a case.

“Yes.” He gave her a quick glance. “Does that bother you?”

A nervous smile trembled around her mouth. “No. My brothers, uncles and most of my male cousins learned to handle a gun in their teens.”

Staring into a firearm pointed at her and then watching Yale fall with blood soaking the shirt of his scrubs bothered her; seeing her patient shot at point-blank range bothered her and continued to bother whenever she relived the scene in her dreams.

“Have you ever fired a gun?”

Celia focused her gaze on the road. “Yes. It was at a firing range. My father claimed I needed to learn to handle a firearm because I’d never know when I’d have to defend myself. What he didn’t know and still doesn’t know is that I favor legislation for gun control.”

“I take it you don’t believe in the Second Amendment.”

“I believe in law-abiding citizens’ right to own weapons, but should criminals have the same right?”

“Criminals don’t care about the law one way or the other, Celia. They live by their own code, and at times administer their own form of justice.”

You’re preaching to the choir, Gavin, Celia mused. “Who do you work for?” she asked, deftly changing the topic of conversation.

“My cousins. The main office is in Charlotte.” Gavin’s cousins did own and operate a security company in Charlotte, and at any given time would verify that he worked for them.

“Who have you protected?”

“I can’t tell you names because we’re bound by a confidentiality ruling that we would never divulge the identities of our clients. What I will tell you is that I’ve guarded the children of actors, sports figures, entertainers and an occasional business mogul.”

“Why did you choose such a dangerous profession?”

Gavin signaled, maneuvering off Route 74 toward Interstate 40 and Asheville. “It was either security or law enforcement. I make a lot more money providing personal security, my assignments are flexible and I get to travel all over the world on someone else’s expense. That’s something I’d never be able to do as a police officer. Why did you decide to go into medicine?” he asked, smoothly directing the focus away from him.

Celia’s head came around and she stared at him. “Why don’t you want to talk about yourself?”

Gavin’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “I just answered all of your questions, Celia.”

“Not all of them.”

He gave her a sidelong glance. “What else do you need to know?”

“Were you ever married?”

“No,” he answered honestly.

“How old are you, Gavin?”

He chuckled softly. “Now, if I’d asked you your age you would’ve told me to mind my own damn business.”

“No, I wouldn’t.”

“Okay. How old are you, Celia?”

“I’ll turn thirty-four in August.”

Gavin’s gaze shifted to the lighted GPS screen. They were less than ten miles from the animal hospital. “I thought you were younger. I’m thirty-seven.”

“Do you like women?”

His deathlike grip on the wheel tightened. “Hell, yeah, I like women. Why would you ask me that?”

“Unmarried at thirty-seven. I was just checking.” Celia averted her head so he wouldn’t see her smile.

Gavin relaxed his grip, realizing Celia was just testing him when he saw her shoulders move. So, he mused, the doctor did have a sense of humor. She’d been sharp-tongued and all business when she’d shouted orders at him the night before.

“You think I’m gay?”

“No, Gavin. The thought never crossed my mind.”

“And if I was?”

“I’d still want you to be my date for Saturday. Someone’s sexual proclivity has no bearing on me. Once consenting adults close the door to the bedroom they can do whatever they want.”

Gavin’s opinion of Celia went up appreciably. She was pretty, smart and open-minded. His role as an undercover agent left little or no time for a normal relationship with a woman. The few long-term relationships he’d had usually ended when he wasn’t willing to take it to a level that included marriage and children. He’d submitted a request for a desk position, and if or when it was approved he would consider marrying and starting a family.

“Do you like men?” he asked.

The seconds ticked as Celia stared through the windshield. “Yes, I do. Why?”

Resting his right arm over the back of her seat, Gavin ran his fingers over the nape of her neck. “Just checking.”

He wasn’t disappointed when she turned to smile at him, neither aware of the invisible web of awareness making them willing captives.




Chapter 5


Reaching for Celia’s hand, Gavin held it protectively in his strong grasp as he led her across the animal hospital’s parking lot. Her brow had knitted in consternation when the veterinarian who’d examined Terry recommended keeping the terrier for at least three days. He’d complimented Celia’s surgical skills and reassured her that Terry’s chances of survival were very good. The canine’s treatment plan included pain management and IV feeding.

Leaning down from his superior height, Gavin pressed his mouth to her ear. “I thought we were going to share Terry.”

Celia shivered slightly from his moist breath. “We are.”

“That’s not possible when you registered him as Terry Thomas, not Terry Thomas-Faulkner.”

She didn’t know whether to sucker punch Gavin or laugh for his teasing her. She did the latter. “You know you’re a little crazy.”

“I’m serious, Celia.”

“What are you going to do with a dog when you’re off protecting the world’s powerful elite?”

“The same could be said for you when you’re practicing medicine.”

“But I’m not practicing medicine. I’m on leave, and if or when I return I’ll have someone take care of him.”

Slowing his stride to accommodate Celia’s shorter legs, Gavin dropped her hand and wrapped an arm around her waist. He felt a modicum of guilt because he knew facts about Celia she’d probably forgotten or wasn’t aware of.

He wondered whether she knew that her late fiancé had fathered a son at seventeen. The baby’s mother had given him up for adoption. Trevor-Jones had another secret. Although he’d been caught cheating in high school, his family’s name, money and clout got the charge expunged from his permanent records.

Gavin didn’t know whether Celia’s decision not to practice medicine was because she was still grieving the loss of her fiancé or because she’d feared a repeat of an episode that almost cost her her own life.

“Why aren’t you practicing?” She stopped abruptly, causing him to stumble but he quickly regained his balance.

Celia stared up at Gavin. Wearing flats put her at a distinct disadvantage. Standing close to five-ten in her bare feet, whenever she wore heels not many men towered over her.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I’m sorry for prying.” Gavin actually hadn’t expected her to disclose any facts about her personal life.

“It’s not about prying, but me not wanting to, as they say, spill my guts to a stranger.”

Putting both his arms around her waist, Gavin pulled Celia to his chest. “After a couple of dates we should stop being strangers.”

She lifted her chin. “Who said anything about a couple of dates? After Saturday’s cookout we may never see each other again.”

“How soon you forget, lady doctor. You promised to share Terry with me and there’s still our cook-off challenge.”

Lids lowering, lashes brushing the tops of her cheeks, Celia was able to conceal the rush of excitement eddying through her body. She’d boldly asked Gavin to go to Hannah’s with her, something she’d never done with any other man, but she didn’t want to be presumptuous and assume he wanted to see her again. After all, he’d come to the mountains on vacation, not to become involved with a woman.

“How long is your vacation?”

Gavin pressed a kiss to Celia’s forehead when what he’d wanted was to taste her mouth. Her mouth and voice were the personification of sensuality.

“It’s as long as I want it to be,” he said after a comfortable pause. “I’m leasing a time-share. I plan to stay through the Labor Day weekend.”

Her eyes caught and held his amused gaze. “You’re kidding, aren’t you?”

Attractive lines fanned out around Gavin’s eyes when he smiled. “No, I’m not. I just finished a job where I spent two months traveling with a businessman and his family throughout Europe and Asia. Once I returned to the States it took a week to balance my body’s circadian rhythm and even longer to readjust my taste buds. Speaking of taste buds,” he said without pausing to take a breath, “how about sharing lunch with me?”

Her smile was as intimate as a kiss. “I’d love to share lunch with you.”

Tightening his hold on her slender body, Gavin tucked Celia into the hard planes of his physique. Holding her, inhaling her feminine scent made him aware that she wasn’t skinny, but slender. Her womanly curves fit perfectly within the contours of his length.

“What do you feel like eating?”

Celia closed her eyes, melting against the man who reminded her why she’d been born female. A rush of craving, longing and trembling she’d never known held her in a vise-like grip, refusing to release her.

He looks so good.

He smells so good.

He feels so good.

And I need him to make me feel good—to help me to heal inside and out.

Hot tears pricked the backs of Celia’s eyelids with the silent entreaty. She’d spent the past year wallowing in fear and grief. As a doctor she’d come face-to-face with life and death on what had become a daily basis. She’d called the time of death on patients ranging from newborns to centenarians, and it was never easy. She was a scientist and a realist. It was inevitable that life was always followed by death.

What she never would’ve anticipated was that her own life could’ve possibly been ended by a teenage boy who had resorted to murder because of a frivolous boast.

Gavin eased back, staring at the woman in his embrace. “Are you all right, baby?” The endearment had slipped out unbidden.

Celia nodded, smiling. “I’m real good,” she admitted. And she was. Being cradled in Gavin’s arms made her feel as if she’d been frozen, locked away in a state of suspended animation for the past year, and now she was finally thawing out. “There’s a restaurant called Carmel’s on Page and Battery Park. They have good food and alfresco dining.”

“Let’s do it. You’re going to have to show me how to get there.”

Glancing at his watch, Gavin noted the time. It was almost one. He’d suggested lunch because he’d only drunk two cups of coffee earlier that morning. Most of his time was spent on the computer, reading updates from a secure government site in order to gather information as to the whereabouts of Raymond Prentice.

It was as if his brother had literally dropped off the planet. Meanwhile, the band of gun thieves had successfully pulled off two more robberies—one in Arkansas and the other in Oklahoma. What Gavin found puzzling was the speed at which they’d traveled from one state to another. They’d robbed a shop in Jonesboro, Arkansas and three hours later they hit another dealer near Lawton, Oklahoma, only miles from the Fort Sill Military Reservation.

An ATF memo indicated the gang’s major focus was on U.S. law enforcement dealers. Another memorandum was circulated to dealers, warning them to be vigilant and to alert their local law enforcement of individuals who appeared to be window-shopping instead of purchasing firearms.

The latest information from the inside informant was that a member of the group, a former Army sniper, was left behind to search out and execute Raymond Prentice. Gavin knew it would be a race against time to find his brother before the sniper.



Celia and Gavin decided to wait for a table outside the restaurant because they wanted to take in the sights of downtown Asheville while enjoying the balmy spring weather. Once they were seated she ordered smoked turkey breast, Swiss cheese and a cranberry-horseradish mayonnaise on sourdough bread.

Gavin had selected a crab cake sandwich with rémoulade sauce, romaine, tomato and red onion on a Kaiser roll. He’d also ordered a half carafe of white wine to accompany their lunch, and after a glass, Celia felt completely relaxed.

“I can’t remember ever drinking wine with a sandwich,” she said, smiling.

Gavin stared across the table at his dining partner. There was something about her bearing and body language that called to mind the graceful movements of a prima ballerina.

“Haven’t you had wine with bread, cheese and salad?”

Celia nodded. “Yes.”

“We ordered dishes with lettuce, tomato, cheese and bread, so drinking wine is permissible.”

“Do you like traveling?”

Her question was so unexpected that it gave Gavin pause. “Yes and no.”

Propping her elbow on the table, Celia rested her chin on her fist. “Why yes and no?”

His lids came down, hiding his innermost thoughts from her. He didn’t like lying to Celia, but he couldn’t afford to be forthcoming because it would reveal his identity and his mission.

“It’s always nice to visit a country where I’d never been. The downside is I find myself getting homesick.” He glanced up at her. “And I get homesick for the worst things.”

“Like what?”

“Hamburgers, franks, deep-dish pizza and Southern fried chicken.”

Celia’s eyebrows lifted. “What about North Carolina pulled pork?”

“That, too,” he crooned as a dreamy expression came over his face. “Have you done a lot of traveling?”

“I used to when I was a young girl. My dad would take me with him on business trips to Belize, Mexico, Jamaica and Puerto Rico. Once I entered high school, academics became a priority for me. I knew I wanted to become a doctor, so all of my spare time was spent studying. I have a few doctors in the family, so they would give me study tips for the MCAT. Thanks to them I scored in the top one percent.”

“Where did you go to medical school? No, I take that back. What schools did you apply to that accepted you?”

Lowering her arm, Celia dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “I applied to all the Ivy League schools. The others were Johns Hopkins, Howard and Meharry. I was accepted into most of them, but decided on Meharry.”

“Why Meharry?” Gavin asked.

A mysterious smile softened her parted lips. “I fell in love with this part of the country. The first time I drove through the Great Smoky Mountains I felt as if I’d stepped back in time, and I made a promise to myself that once I became a doctor I would buy property here.”

“Do you keep all of your promises?” he teased.

“Maybe not to myself, but if I promise someone else something, I do everything within my power to keep it.”

Leaning over the table, Gavin gave Celia a long, penetrating stare. “Will you promise…”

“Promise what, Gavin?”

A deafening silence swallowed them in a cocoon of anticipation where they were able to shut out everything and everyone around them. The seconds ticked as a slow smile parted Gavin’s firm lips. “I want you to promise me that we’ll be civil when it comes to Terry.”

Slumping back in her chair, Celia’s expression registered disbelief. She’d thought what he’d wanted to propose had something to do with them, not the dog. Perhaps, deep down inside she wanted it to be different—that she’d met Gavin under another set of circumstances.

She also wasn’t oblivious to the admiring glances women diners directed at Gavin. Celia wanted to tell them they could look, but he was going home with her. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass. Now, where had that thought come from? She, who’d professed not to have a jealous bone in her body, was suddenly struck by the green-eyed monster.

“I promise.” She placed her hand over her wineglass when Gavin attempted to refill it. “Please. No more.”

His hand halted. “You only had one glass.”

“One glass is my limit.”

Gavin leaned over the table. “What happens after the second glass?”

Celia also leaned closer. “I lose my inhibitions.”

“No!”

“Yes-s-s,” she slurred. “My tongue doesn’t work well after one glass.”

Reaching over the table, Gavin took her hands in his. “I promise not to take advantage of you if you do drink that second glass.”

I wouldn’t care if you did, she mused. Easing her right hand from his loose grip, Celia traced the rim of the wineglass with her forefinger. “I trust you to keep your word,” she lied.

Gavin’s gaze moved from Celia’s face to her chest. He could discern the lace on her bra under her blouse. The flesh between his thighs stirred when he recalled the press of her firm breasts against his chest. He wanted Celia Cole-Thomas in his bed, he between her legs and his hardened flesh buried so deep inside her they wouldn’t know where one began and the other ended.

“Are you an only child?” He had to say something, anything to take his mind off the solid bulge in his jeans.

Celia smiled. “No. I’m the dreaded middle child. I have an older and younger brother.”

“Being the only girl should’ve made it easier for you.”

“Wrong, Gavin. Being the only girl isn’t what it’s cracked up to be when you’re a Cole.”

Gavin forced back a smile. He hadn’t realized how much he wanted Celia to open up to him. “Is there something special about being a Cole?”

“Very, very special. Have you ever heard of ColeDiz International, Limited?”

A beat passed as he pretended to search his memory. “No. Why?”

“ColeDiz is the biggest family-owned agribusiness in the United States.”

“Will I be able to look it up on the Internet?”

Celia nodded. “You can, but chances are you won’t find much information because it’s privately owned. There was a time when most of the top positions were relegated only to those with Cole blood, but my father changed that. Now, only the CEO is mandated to be a direct descendant of Samuel Claridge Cole.”

“Who is Samuel?”

“He was my great-grandfather. The male members of the family are encouraged to join the family business, while the girls can choose any profession.”

“Who’s the CEO?”

“My older brother, Diego.”

For a moment, Gavin studied Celia intently. “Is your younger brother involved in the family business?”

She shook her head. “Nicky wants nothing to do with growing and exporting coffee, bananas and cotton. He bought a horse farm in Virginia, and spent millions on horseflesh to improve the bloodlines. He struck gold last year when one of his Thoroughbreds came in first in the International Gold Cup race. My brother did something I thought was very strange. He announced that he was retiring New Freedom and putting him out to stud.”

Gavin touched a napkin to the corners of his mouth. “That’s a smart move. He can offset his expenses with what he can collect in stud fees.”

“That’s what he said.”

“It looks as if your younger brother has found his niche. I…” Whatever Gavin was going to say was preempted when his cell phone rang. Removing it from his waistband, he stared at the caller’s name. Pushing back his chair, he came to his feet. “Excuse me, but I have to take this call.

“Faulkner,” he said softly, identifying himself as he walked over to where he couldn’t be overheard. Gavin felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. “Did you find Ray?”

“No. I don’t know how he did it, but he got word to the North Carolina field office that he’s not coming in until he feels it’s safe to surface. And, he’s only going to turn himself in to you.”

“Weren’t you able to trace the call?”

“Yeah. It originated somewhere near the Cascades.”

“How did he get to Oregon?”

“That’s the million-dollar question. By the time we’d dispatched agents from Portland, Salem and Eugene, there was no trace of him. We don’t know how long it’s going to take him to crisscross the country undetected, but if we have to wait six months, then so be it.”

“The next time he contacts anyone, tell him to call me.”

“That’s not going to happen, Faulkner. One thing the Bureau doesn’t want is for anyone to make the connection between the two of you. Stay put and Prentice will contact you.”

Without warning, the line went dead. Instead of going out to look for Raymond Prentice, he would wait for him to come to him.

His jaw tightened when he clenched his teeth. He was hoping his brother didn’t view his predicament as a recon mission, playing cat and mouse with a group of ruthless men who viewed him as a traitor. However, Ray Prentice had an advantage the others didn’t: Navy SEAL training.

Securing the cell phone to his waistband, Gavin returned to sit opposite Celia. Smiling, he stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Celia Cole-Thomas was sexy, and he suspected she was totally unaware of how sexy she was. Wisps of black hair had escaped the twist on the nape of her neck. His gaze lingered on her full lower lip before moving up to the large dark eyes that reminded him of a velvet midnight sky.

He’d been ordered to wait in Waynesville for the man who topped the FBI Most Wanted list to contact him, and interacting with the beautiful doctor was certain to make his stay quite enjoyable.

“What are you smiling about?”

Her dulcet voice caressed his ear. “I just got some good news,” he half lied. “My next assignment has been postponed to the end of the summer, and that means I get to have an extended vacation to hang out with Terry and Terry’s mama just a wee bit longer.”

“Why do I get the impression that you’re a wee bit smug about slacking off?”

“And you’re not, Dr. Thomas? I mean slacking off?”

Sudden anger lit Celia’s eyes. She’d told Gavin that she didn’t want to talk about why she wasn’t practicing, but he’d insisted when he’d refused to disclose the names of the celebrities and high-profile personalities he’d protected.

Raising her hand, she signaled for their waiter. “I’ll take the check, please.”

Rising slightly, Gavin reached into the pocket of his jeans for a money clip. “I’m paying.” The two words were barely off his tongue when Celia gave the waiter a large bill.

“Keep the change.”

The young man was all smiles. “Thank you, Miss.”

Gavin stood up, reaching for her arm, but she was too quick, pulling away and walking to where he’d parked his truck. He managed to catch up with her at the corner. This time when he reached for her arm, he tightened his grip, not permitting her to escape him.

“If you ever do that again I’ll…”

Celia rounded on him. “You’ll do what, Gavin?” They’d engaged in a stare down that would only end in a stalemate.

“I’ll think of something by the time I get you home.”

“Bully tactics don’t work with me. Remember, I grew up with two brothers and I can roll with the best of them.”

Escorting her across the street, Gavin clamped his teeth together to keep from saying something that would jeopardize his fragile friendship with a woman who unknowingly had seduced him by their occupying the same space.

She hadn’t indicated she was remotely interested in him, yet he felt something intangible that made him want to get to know her in the most intimate way conceivable.

He’d been forthcoming when he told Celia he liked women. He enjoyed their company and he enjoyed sleeping with them. However, he didn’t sleep with every woman he dated because he hadn’t wanted to use them just for sex. With those he hadn’t slept with he’d managed to maintain an ongoing friendship.

His feelings for Celia bordered on ambivalence. He liked her, yet didn’t want to like her too much, because when he returned to his apartment in northern Virginia to await his next assignment, he didn’t want to have to wrestle with emotional baggage.

The return trip to Waynesville was accomplished in complete silence—Celia staring out the side window while Gavin concentrated on the road ahead of him. He maneuvered off the county road and onto the local one leading to Celia’s house.

He didn’t turn off the engine when he got out and came around to assist her. His hands went around her waist and he lifted her off the seat, holding her aloft. Two pairs of dark eyes fused, warring, neither wanting to give the other quarter.

“Put me down,” Celia ordered through clenched teeth.

Pulling her closer, Gavin complied, their bodies pressed together. Then, without warning, his head came down and he slanted his mouth over hers. He knew he’d shocked Celia when her lips parted, giving him the access needed to take full possession of her mouth.

His tongue dueled with hers until he caught the tip between his teeth, sucking softly. She stopped struggling and melted against him when he released her tongue and simulated making love to her. His right hand came down and cupped her hips so she could feel the hardness straining against his fly.

Celia felt pinpoints of heat prick her face, breasts and the area between her legs. Curving her arms under Gavin’s shoulders, she held on to him as if she feared being swept away in a maelstrom of longing where she would never surface again.

Gavin took a step, pressing Celia against the bumper of the truck. Banked passion flared to life as he ground his crotch against hers. Mouths joined, he lifted her to sit on the bumper, he moving to stand between her knees. He’d fulfilled two of his wishes. He’d tasted her mouth, was between her legs, but hadn’t joined his body to hers.

Celia had felt dead, empty inside until now. She wanted and needed Gavin to make love to her but common sense returned to shake her into an awareness of what Gavin was doing and what she was permitting him to do.

“No, Gavin. We can’t.”

Celia’s entreaty penetrated the thick fog of passion cloaking Gavin’s mind. His head came up, and he stared down into twin pools of black-filled shock rather than fear. He couldn’t believe he’d been ready to make love to Celia on the top of a truck like an animal in heat!

He took a backward step without releasing her. His fingers tightened slightly as he eased her off the bumper until her feet touched macadam.

He was annoyed with Celia for making it look as if he were a kept man, but even more angry with himself because he’d lost control. “Don’t ever insult me again by reaching into your purse or I’ll kiss you again, and it won’t be where no one will see us.”

Celia blinked as if coming out of a trance. The laughter that began in her chest spilled over as her shoulders shook. “Do you actually believe you were punishing me because you kissed me without asking permission? You give yourself a little too much credit in the lovemaking department,” she taunted. “I let you kiss me, Gavin.”

Gavin thrust his face to within inches of hers, staring at her thoroughly kissed mouth. “You let me kiss you. But the all-important question is will you let me make love to you?”

Celia experienced a sense of freedom with Gavin she’d never felt with Yale. Although ten years her senior, Yale had not been very adventurous. Their lovemaking was satisfying because she always took the initiative to make it that way. If she’d left it up to Yale he would’ve made love to her only to procreate. She wasn’t what she would call horny, but sexually deprived. She’d missed foreplay, after-play and cuddling.

“I don’t know.” Celia didn’t know because she’d never been one to engage in gratuitous sex, and that’s what it would become if she allowed Gavin to share her bed.

Leaning in closer, Gavin kissed the end of her nose. He’d felt himself a winner only because she hadn’t said no. “It’s all right, baby. I will never pressure you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Celia winked at him. “And I promise not to pressure you into doing something you don’t want to do.” She kissed his cheek. “Go home, Gavin, so I can plan for our cook-off challenge.”

A network of lines fanned out around Gavin’s eyes when he smiled at the woman who made him feel things he didn’t want to feel, made him want to do things he shouldn’t do. “Is it going down at my place or yours?”

“My place, of course.”

“Do you have a grill?” Celia nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow around ten.”

“Why so early?” Celia asked.

“It’s going to take at least eight hours to cook my pork.” Gavin reached for Celia’s handbag off the console between the seats, handing it to her. “I’ll wait until you’re inside before I leave.”

He watched her walk and waited for her to open and close the door before driving away. His plan to punish her for what he considered the ultimate insult whenever he took a woman out to eat had backfired.

Gavin knew he had to be careful—very, very careful when interacting with Celia Cole-Thomas or he would find himself in too deep.




Chapter 6


Celia stood with her back pressed against the door as the sound of the truck’s engine faded in the distance. Her knees were shaking so hard she found it difficult to keep her balance.

She’d pretended not to be affected by Gavin’s lovemaking when what she’d wanted was to mate with him—on the hood of a vehicle and out in the open where anyone could see them.

Sliding down to the floor, Celia pulled her knees to her chest and lowered her head. If she’d followed her therapist’s advice, she knew she wouldn’t be going through the emotional turmoil that made her do and say things that made her question her sanity.

But, she hadn’t been completely honest with the therapist or herself—until now. She’d told the psychiatrist about how she’d believed she’d died, but her colleagues had brought her back to life, how the nightmares kept her awake at night and that she sat up until sunrise before attempting to go back to sleep.

A wry smile twisted her mouth at the same time a single tear trickled down her cheek. What Celia hadn’t disclosed to her therapist or anyone else was that she’d blamed herself for Yale’s death. He hadn’t been scheduled to work that day, but he’d switched shifts with another doctor because he’d wanted to talk to her about her pronouncement that although she wasn’t ending their engagement, she’d moved out because she needed to put some space between them.

She and Yale hadn’t set a date, and his constant haranguing that he didn’t want to wait until he was fifty to father a child had begun to annoy Celia. Whenever she reminded him of their commitment to opening the free clinic, he’d drop the topic for several weeks and then bring it up again.

Yet that last time, Yale had done something that was totally out of character for him. He’d begun crying. It was the tears and the pleading that made her agree to meet him when her shift ended. What she hadn’t expected was for him to work the E.R. on his day off.

Celia had mentally beaten herself up over and over. The “what ifs” had attacked her relentlessly. What if she hadn’t dated a man who was ten years older than she and too controlling? What if she hadn’t agreed to move in with him when she’d had her own apartment? What if she hadn’t agreed to marry him when all of her instincts told her he was so wrong for her free-spirit personality?

She knew her parents weren’t happy when she’d moved in with Yale, but she was an adult and there wasn’t much they could say. It hadn’t been the same with her brothers. Both Diego and Nicholas complained about her shacking up with a man when she could afford to live on her own. Celia eventually resolved the problem when she purchased her cousin’s oceanfront mansion.

Buying the property signaled a turning point in her relationship with Yale. He’d become more controlling and at times had been downright mean-spirited. Living apart from her fiancé gave her the opportunity to see another side of the man with whom she’d pledged her future. She’d loved Yale, but she hadn’t been in love with him.

Now, there was her dilemma of Gavin Faulkner. The powerfully built personal bodyguard was a constant reminder of what she’d never had and what had been missing in her life—passion.

Swiping at her tears with her fingertips while pushing to her feet, Celia knew wallowing in self-pity wasn’t going to solve any of her problems. She knew it would take time for her to come to terms with her feelings of guilt, but she didn’t have a lot of time when it came to Gavin Faulkner. He was going to spend the summer in the mountains, and that meant they would be seeing each other because of their promise to share Terry.

Will it make you feel better if I take a lover for the summer to keep me company?

The question Celia had asked her brother came back in vivid clarity. She knew it wouldn’t make Diego feel better, but she knew unequivocally it would make her feel much, much better than she did now.

Thinking about Gavin reminded her that she had to call the local butcher to order a boneless pork loin for her puerco asado cook-off challenge. Her sorority sister had turned her on to Southern cooking and her grandmother had helped her to perfect the Caribbean dishes that had been passed down through countless generations.





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