In the world he’d been part of most of his life, there were no grays. There was only black and white. In the real world, there wasn’t even only one gray. Fifty shades? Hell, there were ten thousand shades of gray.
Of course, he’d come because Caleb had asked him to do it, but there were other truths involved. The first was that if Jaimie needed protection, he was the only man he’d trust to protect her.
Which led directly to the deeper truth. To the one truth.
He’d had to see her again. And for that, he’d needed an excuse because between his stupid pride—thinking the night had been special only to wake to an empty bed and a note that pretty much said it hadn’t—and then that call from Young, and how come he’d bought that bucket of crap without checking it out? He was an investigator, wasn’t he?
His pride again.
Amazing, how something so pathetic could get in the way of reason.
What it came down to was that he’d always wanted to go after her. He’d just had to find a way to make it happen without feeling like a fool, and Caleb had handed him exactly the excuse he needed to be with her again, talk with her, laugh with her, make love with her, share simple moments like this one.
And he didn’t want to dwell on that too long or too hard because as it was, those simple realizations already scared the hell out of him.
* * * *
Jaimie said she’d make breakfast.
“Or lunch,” she said with a laugh, “or supper, or whatever meal it is we’re up to.”
Zach checked his watch. “If we were Brits,” he said, “we’d be heading off to Claridge’s for tea. But we’re not, and it’s four o’clock, so we’re too late for lunch and too early for dinner. We’ll either have to starve to death or go to this little place I know.”
“You know Washington?”
“Yeah. A little.”
“Because?”
“Because…” No need to lie about that, he thought as he helped her on with a jacket then put on his. “I lived here for a while.”
“Really?”
“Really.” They stepped out of her apartment, Zach checking the hall, the shadows, the stairs. All clear. “I worked here,” he said, as they made their way out the front door, down the steps and to the Prius.
“A Prius.” She looked at him and smiled. “Somehow, I wouldn’t have imagined you driving something so—so conservative.”
He laughed as he shut the passenger door, went around to the driver’s side and got behind the wheel.
“It’s a rental.”
“Don’t tell me.” Jaimie looked at him. “You really drive a Ferrari.”
“Very good.” He smiled. “I did, until last year. I gave it up for a Porsche. A Carrera.”
“See? I knew you were a fast-car guy.”
“Guilty as charged.”
They drove in silence for a couple of minutes. Then, she looked at him again.
“So, what do you do?”
“What do I do?”
“What kind of work? Something that goes with Porsches and Ferraris and a home in the sky, I’ll bet.”
Zach checked for traffic, then changed lanes. It gave him a couple of seconds to think. What was he going to tell her?