“Don’t you have work to do?” she answered evasively. “How come you’ve got all this time off?”

“I’m on leave,” I said. “I’ll be shipping back out to Afghanistan—in about three weeks.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice soft. “I didn’t realize … I thought you were stationed in Geneva.”

“I was, but they need interpreters and they’re getting antsy about using locals. Too many green-on-blue attacks. So, what do you think about Italy?”

She shook her head.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. My papers could come through any moment and I’ll be on my way out there myself.” Oh, I don’t think so. “Besides, three weeks with you—that’s definitely a dangerous mission.”

I suppressed a smile at her choice of words.

“Don’t you trust me?” I asked, pretending to be hurt.

“No, not particularly.”

I grinned at her. Yep, she had my number. “Oh, don’t say that. I’ll be good. Scout’s honor.”

“You were never a boy scout.”

“True,” I agreed, more serious now. “What if I promise I’ll behave myself: separate bedrooms and everything?”

“No way, Hunter. I’ve heard about your reputation, remember? Besides, I don’t know how soon I’ll get a flight to Leatherneck. I don’t want to risk losing my slot.”

“It won’t happen for at least two weeks.”

She narrowed her eyes, and I knew I’d said too much. Shit.

“You sound very sure of that. What did you do, Hunter?”

I had two choices: lie my ass off, or tell the truth. Neither particularly appealed, but I decided to go with truth.

“Let’s just say I know people in the right places,” I admitted.

Her voice started rising, and I could tell she was genuinely pissed.

“Are you telling me you’ve blocked my application?”

“It’s not blocked, Caro, not entirely. I … just threw a few well-aimed monkey wrenches in the works. It’ll take at least a week to sort out—probably two.”

Oh shit, this was not going well. The fury on her face was clear and her small hands clenched into fists.

“This is my work, Sebastian,” she hissed. “This is how I get paid. How dare you interfere like this! You’re unbelievable. You can’t butt into my life like this!”

By now she was yelling, and people were turning to stare.

“I’m not the insipid little woman I was ten years ago!”

I blinked in surprise. What the fuck was she talking about?

“You were never that,” I insisted.

The air started heating between us, and I knew she felt it as well, even if she was too stubborn to admit it.

“You’d better damn well get that monkey wrench out, Hunter! I mean it.”

Time to admit the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

“I can’t, Caro, it’s out of my hands now. But I promise it’s temporary. I just … after all this time … I wanted us to be able to spend more than a few hours together. I don’t know when I’ll see you again,” I said quietly. “I’ve already waited ten years.”

She was silent, and when I looked up, the anger had vanished from her eyes, leaving them tinged with sadness.

“Will you at least think about Italy?” I begged.

She nodded jerkily, but looked away from me.

We finished our meal in silence and then spent the afternoon wandering through the town, stopping to look in shops and patisserie windows.

“I wouldn’t mind coming back here in the winter,” I said, gazing up at the stormy face of Mont Blanc, “try out the snowboarding.”

“That’s something else I’ve never done,” Caro murmured, staring up at the mountain apprehensively.

“I’ll teach you,” I offered.

“Oh, something you can teach me, Hunter?” she shot back, showing that her irritation with me hadn’t entirely dissipated. Then she glanced at her watch. “I think we should be heading back now. I can’t get a signal on my phone here. My editor might have been trying to contact me.”

I knew that was extremely unlikely, but I didn’t want to get into another argument with her. Instead, we headed to the bike and mounted up. Even if she was still pissed with me, she had no choice but to wrap her body around mine again. Definitely a bonus.

I took the AutoRoute back to Geneva, arriving in slightly under an hour. I felt the loss instantly when she climbed off the bike and handed the spare helmet and jacket to me. I stowed it in one of the empty saddlebags, giving myself time, trying to think of something to say. But it was Caro who found the words.

“I really enjoyed today, Sebastian. Most of it, anyway. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Caro.”

We stood gazing at each other. Without knowing why, I felt awkward, the tension stretching tightly between us.

“Okay, well, thanks again,” she murmured, turning to go.

“Can I see you tomorrow, Caro?” I asked, my voice desperate even to my own ears. “Will you think about the Italy idea?”

She hesitated and licked her lips. Automatically, my eyes dropped to her mouth, and I let myself admit how I was feeling—something I hadn’t done for a long time. Too long.

“I want to kiss you, Caro. Very badly.”

Her eyes glowed, and I held my breath as she slowly raised her hand to my cheek. I leaned into her warmth, my eyes closing as her fingers brushed down my neck, heat and desire rising everywhere she touched me.

I took a step closer, resting my hands on her small waist. Then she pulled my head toward her and I felt her lips on mine at last. So soft, so sensuous. I could feel her breath stroke my face, her lips parted and my tongue swept into her mouth.

And then the emotions, the memories that burned through me—every pain, every regret scorched in the heat of her touch. I remembered: her body arching as mine moved above her, inside her, the intensity of every moment seared through me.

I pressed my hips into her, my erection painfully obvious as her mouth devoured every breath.

“God, I want you, Caro. I want to make love to you,” I whispered against her lips.

“Yes,” she said. “I want that, too.”

I could have taken her there and then. My body was crying out for her.

Instead I had to go park my bike in the hotel’s secure underground garage and hope to hell that Caro didn’t change her mind by the time I came back. I thought she might. She could come to her senses at any moment and think of all the reasons why this was a bad idea, why I wasn’t good enough for a successful career woman who could have her pick of guys. It was hard to believe she was forty. She was still smokin’ hot.

The truth was I’d never be good enough for her, but that didn’t stop me wanting her. And if she had low standards, who the hell was I to complain?

She was waiting for me in the lobby, sitting on the same sofa where I’d sat last night during our excruciating heart-to-heart. She looked anxious, a frown creasing her forehead. I was sure she could read me, tension and expectation in every molecule of my body. Ten years. Ten long years I’d waited for this moment. And I was a man now, not a boy, and I knew I could make this good for her. If she let me.

I wondered if we’d still have that amazing chemistry. It felt like we would, if the way my body was reacting to hers was anything to go by.

I crossed the lobby to stand in front of her, my eyes searching her face, for any part of her that didn’t want this. I held out my hand and she took it without hesitation. If it was a mistake, then it was one we both made willingly.

A relieved smile flickered across my face as I pulled Caro to her feet, braiding my fingers through hers as we headed toward the bank of gleaming elevators.

All were busy, crammed with tourists returning from day trips, politicians and businessmen heading to their rooms. The bastards were eyeing Caro with approval, so I pulled her to the side and shot them some serious fuck-off glares, before wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her back into my chest, and allowing myself to rain soft kisses onto her hair.