Killer Countdown (Man on a Mission 6)

“It is a small world, just as you said.” She tilted her head to one side as she tried to figure the odds.

“Smaller than you think.” She raised a questioning eyebrow, and he told her, “Alec’s wife, Angelina, heads up the security detail for Queen Juliana,” he said, slanting his head in the queen’s direction. “I kid you not,” he assured her. “I’ve never met either of the royals myself, but I figure Alec and Angelina are why I was on the guest list for the state dinner, and why I was invited to tonight’s reception.” He gave her a self-deprecating smile. “A junior senator from Colorado doesn’t rate otherwise.”

She didn’t know why she did it, but she leaped to his defense. “That’s not true. You haven’t been in office very long, but you’ve made an impact. That domestic terrorism bill you cosponsored was—”

“Shot down.”

“Yes, but you didn’t give up,” she argued. “A revised version is on the agenda for the upcoming legislative session, and—”

“Will probably be shot down again. I’m a realist, Carly,” he said gently. “Stubborn about what I believe in, but realistic enough to know when I’m tilting at windmills.”

That made her ask, “Then why do you keep doing it? Tilting at windmills.”

“Because I can’t not do whatever I can to make the world a safer place.”

She suddenly remembered his wife and unborn son had been killed by terrorists fifteen years ago, so she didn’t pursue the discussion further. Some wounds shouldn’t be touched, she acknowledged. She cast around in her mind for another topic of conversation, and her gaze fell on Zakhar’s royal couple, much closer now that she and Shane had been shuffling along in line as they spoke.

“I wish I’d known they’d be here,” Carly said in a rueful undertone. “I wish you’d told me. I would have—”

“You’re perfect as you are.” His eyes, those beautiful brown eyes, softened. “You take my breath away.”

She gazed up at Shane, suddenly caught in a trance where everything around them faded into nothingness. The quiet, sincere way he’d uttered that sentence gave it far more importance than the words themselves, and Carly’s stomach quivered. Something else quivered, too. That had never happened to her in the middle of a conversation, not even with Jack. “Shane, I...” She couldn’t continue because suddenly she couldn’t breathe.

He stared back at her, and she knew he was as entranced as she was. Then he seemed to shake it off. “Come on,” he urged, but his voice wasn’t quite steady. “We’ll lose our place in line if we don’t keep moving.”

Carly let Shane draw her forward, but she scarcely knew what she was doing because her thoughts were swirling so chaotically she couldn’t really focus on anything but him. All she could feel was his arm beneath her hand, his body next to hers. All she could hear was his voice in her ears.

Desire curled in her belly. Desire she hadn’t felt in forever. It was crazy. Crazy. She didn’t sleep around. Especially with men like Shane. Carly had had exactly two lovers in the eight years since Jack died. Two. Six months with one, eight with the other. Both men she had known for a while and liked. Respected. But both had known going in that Carly had boundaries they were never going to cross. It wasn’t just sex with them, but...

Both times Carly had ended the relationship when the men had shown signs of wanting permanence. Which was never going to happen, not with them. She hadn’t broken their hearts—she’d made sure of it. And both men had ended up marrying women she knew, women who were right for them, something Carly could never have been. She still saw both men socially, still maintained casual friendships with them and their wives. There could have been awkwardness, but she’d made sure there wasn’t because everyone had known her heart belonged to Jack. Still. Always.

Only...what she was feeling for Shane threatened that. Which was crazy. She’d known him three days. Three days. Not only that, he’d suffered a traumatic brain injury similar to Jack’s. Which meant it was possible he’d end up the way Jack had, and she’d end up the way she’d been eight years ago—devastated, guilt-ridden and alone.