Privilege (Special Tactical Units Division 2)

Chay—Chay looked stunned.

Why wouldn’t he? She couldn’t believe she’d said such a stupid thing. Thinking she might be falling for him wasn’t the same as knowing she’d fallen for him. And she hadn’t. She was a long, long way from that. From loving him…

“Bianca?” Chay’s voice was low and rough.

She looked at him, looked away. “So,” she said quickly, “did you always want to be in the service?”

He didn’t answer.

“Because I always wanted to be a doctor. Well, a medical doctor. We had a cat when we were little, my sister and I, and I drove that poor creature crazy, bandaging its tail, trying to listen to its heartbeat…” She dragged in breath. “Chayton. Please. Do not look at me that way.”

He started to speak and she reached over the table and put her fingers against his lips.

“There is no need to say anything,” she said quickly. “I meant—I only meant that I admire you. As a warrior. I sometimes still have a problem with my English. You know that.”

It was true.

He did know that.

And just because somebody said they loved something about you didn’t mean they were saying they loved you. Why would a woman like this love a man like him? Why would he want her to love him?

She wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t want her to. No way. No way ever would he want…

“A bottle of our finest zinfandel, sir. I thought it would be best. This way, no matter what you order…”

The waiter’s voice trailed off. No wonder, Chay thought. There was enough tension at the table to cut with a knife.

“Fine,” he said briskly. “An excellent choice. Go ahead. Open it and pour. No, that’s okay. I don’t need to taste it…” Jesus! “So,” he said, flashing a smile at Bianca, “what about you? Any, ah, any college class change your life?”

She swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said, and he could almost see her reaching for the lifeline he’d thrown her. “I, uh, I thought, you know, when I was a little girl… What I said, about wanting to grow up to be a doctor… Actually, I wanted to be a surgeon.”

“A surgeon,” he said brightly, as if she’d just announced that she’d solved the mystery of how the universe began.

She launched into a story about a pre-med course. And a field trip to a hospital. An operating room, and an appendectomy, and how she’d passed out even before the surgeon made the incision.

Chay laughed where he was expected to laugh. He hoped he did, anyway, because he heard only bits of what she said. Mostly, he watched her. Her eyes. Her mouth. Her little gestures.

His woman.

His beautiful, down-to-earth, smart, scarily wonderful woman.

When was the last time he’d thought of a woman as his?

The answer came in a heartbeat

Never.

Never. Not once in his thirty-two years had he thought that way. Had he wanted to think that way. Had he imagined thinking that way.

He knew what he had to do.

Get to his feet. Dump some bills on the table, hustle her into a cab, get her back to the hotel and phone Aidan Maguire. Or Declan Sanchez. Or any of the other guys in his unit, tell them he had a woman in New York who needed protection…

Or take her to the hotel, to their room, away from lights and people, gather her into his arms, kiss her until she sighed his name and then tell her that what he should have told her this morning, that she was everything to him…

“Madam. Sir. Are you ready to order? We have some specials this evening… Or perhaps you have questions about our menu. I’ll be happy to answer any you might have.”

Chay opened the menu. Stared at it. The letters seemed to dance on the heavy paper. He looked at Bianca. She’d opened her menu, too, but judging by the expression on her face, she was nowhere near ready to order.