She shot me a look.

“No, really. I’m not just saying that. I kind of assumed you were ex-Forces because of the way you understood the military. And we were all expecting you’d be a guy. Obviously somebody screwed up on the background checks…” Dickwad Crawley was supposed to be taking care of that. “But as far as your online presence, you’re definitely a man.”

She smiled happily. “That’s the general idea. I’ve had quite a few assignments given to me because people assume I’m a man; jobs they wouldn’t give to a woman.”

“Yeah, but there could be a good reason for it, too. I mean, some of the places you go are dangerous and…”

But she stopped the rest of my rant by pressing her fingers over my lips.

“Shh, tesoro. They’re a lot less dangerous than where you go, and we’re not having this conversation.”

“The fuck we aren’t!”

“No, I mean it. This is my work. Please drop it.”

I could tell by the look on her face that she meant it. I wasn’t happy, but a smart Devil Dog knew when to withdraw and regroup.

“You were going to tell me what you thought when you first saw me,” she repeated.

“Shock. At first I thought you’d done it deliberately somehow. And then I saw the look on your face, like you didn’t know what to say to me either, and I realized it was just as weird for you as it was for me.”

“And then?”

“I just kept thinking how mad I was at you; blaming you for all the shit. I kept trying to hold on to all that anger, but you just looked so … you looked just the same. And I kept thinking, maybe I got it wrong. And then I remembered that you hadn’t come looking for me and … it was so fucking confusing, Caro.”

I stared out at the surf washing across the beach, smaller now as the high pressure continued to push in from the west.

“And then you tried to talk to me and I just freaked. I couldn’t … not in front of all those people, not with all the things I wanted to … I found a bar and just started drinking… getting up the courage to go see you. I really screwed that up, didn’t I?”

“Completely,” she said, her voice sad.

I dropped my eyes and stared at my hands. They were still callused from all the training I did, despite the fact that I’d had a desk job for most of the last three years. I wondered again what she was doing with a guy like me who’d never even gotten a college degree. If I left the Marines I’d be nothing, no one. What then?

“It doesn’t matter now, Sebastian,” she said quietly.

I shook my head, trying to fight off the darkness that was threatening to pull me down again.

“What did you think, when you saw me?” I asked.

“You mean after the oh-my-God moment? I thought you looked bitter: your eyes looked so cold and hard. Gorgeous, of course, but you looked like you’d really changed. I was … intimidated. And then Liz told me you had gotten this reputation … as something of a lady-killer…”

Fuckin’ bitch.

“Well, you did ask,” she said, reaching out to take my hand.

“Yeah, well … what else did you think?”

“She said you were brilliant, too, if that makes you feel any better.”

“Not much.”

She sighed. “I just thought I’d try and talk to you by yourself, but you kept avoiding me. So, I assumed you didn’t want anything to do with me. I was … hurt, but I guess I accepted it. Can we talk about something else? This is making me feel blue.”

“Sure, baby,” I said, kicking myself because my depression was bringing her down, too. “How about we plan the rest of the trip?”

“Yes, please,” she responded quickly.

I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the map.

“Well, it’s up to you, Caro. We could keep going down the coast road to Salerno, look up your dad’s old village. Or take it slower, go see some of Tuscany. Siena is supposed to be amazing and there’s this old hilltop town, Montepulciano that looks really cool. Or go right down to the bottom—check out Sicily.”

She studied the map for a moment, her eyes tracing the route south.

“What do you want to do, Sebastian? I don’t mind having another day on the beach if you want to do some more surfing—it’s your vacation, too.”

“Nah, that’s okay—it’s going to be flat tomorrow—I already checked.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Of course. Silly me.”

“It’s about 250 miles to your dad’s village. We could be there this time tomorrow. If you want.”

I thought she’d go for that, but I could see unease on her face, as well. Maybe she was afraid of building it up too much. Neither of us had been given a great hand when it came to family, but her dad was different. I could tell she was afraid of hoping too hard that there’d be some trace of him. Realistically, that wasn’t likely. He’d left Italy more than 40 years ago and Caro didn’t know if he’d left any family behind.

“No, let’s take it easy,” she said at last. “I’d like to see some more of Tuscany. I’ve heard of Montepulciano: they have good wine. And honey.”

She always made me smile. “How come you know all this food stuff?”

She stared back as if I was missing an obvious point. “I’m Italian, Sebastian.”

I laughed out loud, making the waiter at the next table spill the wine he was pouring. But I was too busy sweeping Caro’s hand into mine and kissing her fingers. A sultry look crossed her face, and I could feel myself getting hard again. Fuck me, I hadn’t had this much sex since I was 17 and with Caro for the first time—although there was that one weekend I went to Tijuana for Ches’s bachelor party. That had been memorable, too. But I didn’t want to think about what I’d done with other women—not anymore.

The waiter arrived with our order and smiled apologetically as I was forced to let go of Caro’s hand.

The food was good and I chowed down hungrily. I hadn’t been joking when I said I needed to consume some calories after breaking a fucking record for fucking; my stomach thought that someone had cut my damn throat. So we were quiet for several minutes as we ate.

But I could tell that Caro was distracted. I gave her a few minutes to ask whatever was bugging her, but she sat in silence, pushing the remainder of her food around her plate.

“What is it?” I asked at last, laying down my knife and fork.

“What do you mean?”

“You have that look on your face—like you want to ask me something. You can ask me anything, Caro.”

She looked surprised that I’d noticed.

“Well, there was something … did you mean what you said about quitting the Marines?”

My stomach clenched, but I kept a smile on my face.

“Sure. I mean, I re-upped two years ago, so I’d have to do another two before I punch out…”

She sucked her lower lip and looked down.

“Do you think you’d have to do another tour in Afghanistan?”

I wasn’t sure how much truth she wanted. The answer was ‘yes’, but I could tell she didn’t want to hear that.

“I don’t know, Caro. Most guys wouldn’t be sent out again that quickly, but … well, they’re short of interpreters, especially non-locals, and military intelligence...”

Fuck! I wasn’t supposed to tell her that I was working for Chair Force Spooks.

She saw my hesitation and leaned forward so our conversation was more private.

“Sebastian, whatever you tell me, that’s between us. I would never use it in my work.”

“I know that, baby, but there are some things I can’t tell you … and some things that it’s better you don’t know.”

She smiled sadly.

“They’re not going to be pleased that you’re dating a journalist.”

“Nope. Don’t think so,” I agreed, “although they couldn’t stop me...”

“So … I guess it would be better to keep this between us, just for now?”

I nodded, then leaned back in my chair.

“Would you give it up, Caro? Working in war zones, traveling all over the world?”

She didn’t seem surprised by the question—perhaps she’d been expecting it ever since our truncated discussion about having some rug rats of our own.