“Somebody’s hungry,” Amity said.
“If the food tastes as good as it smells, I’m in for a treat,” he said.The real treat is being with you.
What the fuck?He stomped out the disquieting distraction. He couldn’t help the attraction—she was pretty—very pretty—and pleasant, and while he might be a carbon-copy human being, he was as red-blooded as any man. He couldn’t afford to lose focus. He was here to get the facts, not get laid.
“It’s the best restaurant in 200 million miles,” she joked.
He chuckled on cue.
They perused the menus left by the hostess, and when their server appeared, Amity ordered a glass of wine. “Water for me,” he said.
“Then I won’t either—”
“No, please do,” he urged.Please do.He never drank while working, and while this could be considered extracurricular, he intended to keep a clear head. Conversely, a little alcohol might weaken her inhibitions and loosen her tongue.
She agreed to the wine, and they placed their dinner orders, Marshall opting for the lasagna, Amity ordering poultry with wild mushrooms in a cream sauce.
The light from the tiny table lamp caressed her face, drawing his attention to her smooth skin, her thick-lashed eyes, her soft mouth. His pants got a little tighter. “You look beautiful,” he said. A little flattery couldn’t hurt, but, objectively, it was the truth.
Another time, another place…He ignored the pang of regret.
“Thank you.” An attractive blush crept into her cheeks. Why some man hadn’t snapped her up, he couldn’t fathom. Did she only date blind men?
“So,” she said brightly, “you said earlier you’re just visiting our little planet. Are you here on business, or are you vacationing?”
“Scouting,” he said. “Considering relocating.” Both statements were true, but they were unrelated. He did have imminent plans to relocate—but not here. And he wasn’t scouting for a place to live but for a person. He had to find Bragg before Rogers and Glenn did. If the two Dark Ops agents got to him first, Bragg’s goose would be cooked—and not with wine and garlic.
Why he should give a shit what happened to his subordinate when it could jeopardize his own safety, he couldn’t fathom. He was Bragg’s soon-to-beformerCO, not his friend, not his mentor. Yet, from the moment the adult Bragg had stumbled out of the cloning tank, Marshall had felt responsible for him. Maybe because he recalled his own difficulty adjusting twenty years ago.
“To Terra Nova? Are you intending to live off the grid?” she asked.
“Way off the grid.”
“What kind of work do you do?”
“Security consulting, mostly,” he fabricated.
“Not much need for security on Terra Nova.”
Dark Ops had a long reach. “You’d be surprised.” He paused. “But I’m planning on an early retirement.”
“You don’t look old enough to retire.”
“No?” He brushed at the silver wings at his temples. Additional silver threaded his once near-black hair. Owing to genetics, he’d been going prematurely gray.
“No.” The appreciation in her eyes said she wasn’t blowing smoke up his ass.
His lips quirked. “That’s why it’s calledearlyretirement.”
“Touché.”
“I’m forty-five,” he offered, because sharing personal data helped onegetpersonal data. An oversimplified truth became a lie, anyway. Forged public records stated his age as forty-five. However, he’d only been alive for twenty years, emerging from the gestation tank as a twenty-five-year-old male.
Like Bragg, Marshall Clark III was a clone. Unlike Bragg, he’d never bothered to pick his own name but had accepted his progenitor’s and mentally tacked a three on the end. That’s how far back he’d traced his lineage, but it was anybody’s guess how many Marshall Clarks there had been. A name made little difference when you were consigned to Dark Ops, a government agency so top secret even the president was unaware of its existence. Dark Ops had carte blanche to do whatever the hell it wanted—and it did.
He’d had enough. He’d intended to walk away and never look back. He should have been home free by now.
Except for my own stupidity.Except for the inconvenient compulsion to save the other clone from himself. A man couldn’t help feelings. He had feelings—he was having some right now for the sexy woman with the alluring scent. But he didn’tacton them. Not like Bragg.
