The front door opened. “Skeet?”
He turned to find Chloe silhouetted in the doorway. She closed the door. Stood under the lit portico. “I’m sorry I left without a note.”
He stared at her, his heart pounding. Then, “I’m sorry.” The words came out rough. “I overreacted.”
“You think?” But her tone was gentle. Understanding, even. She moved closer, stopping just within arm’s reach. “Want to tell me what that was really about?”
Everything. Myanmar. Narin.The way his chest had felt like it was caving in when he’d realized she was gone. The fact that somewhere between their first argument and their spa conversation, she’d become more important to him than mission success.
The fact that he was falling in love with her and had no idea what to do about it.
“I’m a war correspondent, Skeet. I’ve been taking care of myself in dangerous places for years.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
He stared at her, swallowed, the question a rock falling through him. Because no, he didn’t trust her to take care of herself. Not because she wasn’t capable, but because all he could think wasI don’t want to lose you.
She nodded and then, crazily, her eyes watered and she wiped her cheek. “Shoot.”
He glanced at her. Not the response?—
“I can’t seem to...” She sighed. “I said I didn’t see a way out of this... not without us both getting hurt. And I still don’t?—”
“Then let’s not get hurt.”
She stared at him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that instead of it meaning that we ignore this... this thing between us, maybe we face it. We don’t run from it. Maybe we lean in and figure out how to trust each other.”
“Be real partners?”
“Not a chance. I can’t be your partner, Chloe.” He took her hand.
“Why not—I mean?—”
“Because I don’t kiss my partners.” And then he pulled her to himself.
And kissed her.
It was a combustion of twenty-four hours of holding back everything he’d wanted to say—words that wouldn’t come but poured out in his touch. He put his hand behind her neck and dove in, hungry.
And maybe he’d surprised her, but she was suddenly all in. Arms around his neck, parting her lips, kissing him back. The woman who ran into danger first, and yes, dragged him happily right along with her.
If this was running, it was in the right direction.
She kissed him back with everything that was Chloe—stubbornness, bravery, curiosity, determination...
It only lit the same inside him. He made a sound, deep in his chest, and for a moment she leaned back, met his eyes.
“What?”
“You sound like a panther.” Then her fingers twisted in his shirt, and she kissed him again, the sweetness of mango onher tongue. The scent of her hair surrounded him as one hand tangled in the soft strands, the other sliding to the small of her back.
Gentler this time, he kissed her with an intimacy that suggested this wasn’t the end. That there would be more. That they didn’t have to soak in every last touch. His mouth soft on hers, lingering.
He hated when they finally broke apart, both of them breathing hard.