Playfully, Payson egged him on as she gulpedher beer. “Really? I would be truly impressed. What can’t you do?You have a knack for carpentry, play some serious baseball, areadept at video games. You kicked my ass at laser tag, which is noeasy feat. You speak fluent French, fill out a tuxedo even betterthan James Bond… I think I’ve finally found Mr. Perfect.”
Switching to Russian and then into Farsi,which he spoke as easily as French or English, he whispered hisintentions for tonight in her ear, or at least, that’s what shethought he was saying.
“I know you can’t, or won’t say, but you’reso much more than you claim. I’ll have to accept that you’re amystery, because I’m keeping you… whatever the story may be.”
…
Ronan sighed, realizing the time was now.Finally. He was desperate to tell her everything. Why was hestalling at telling her the truth? He felt like a nervous teenagerabout to ask the hottest girl in school to the prom.
Focusing on his beer, he stared into theamber liquid, hoping to find his courage. With a sigh, he began,“You’re right. I’m not a computer programmer. I am pretty decentwith computers, have to be in my line of work. But that’s not myarea of expertise.”
She raised her eyebrows, mouth open to speak,but stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. Finally, heanswered the questions she’d asked him forever ago. “I got the burnrushing into a building to ascertain the location of an enemy baseso we could send in a SEAL team; they had discovered we were on tothem and set the place on fire.
“The knife wound was a gift from a young boythat I pulled out of a gunfight in Afghanistan, not out of thegoodness of my heart, but he had critical information, and mymission was to get him out of the area unharmed and without hispeople knowing.”
“And the gunshot wounds?” Sitting still, asif afraid the slightest interruption would halt his story, shewhispered her question.
Reverting to his professional demeanor, hefound the courage to tell her his story, more than the truncatedversion he’d told his parents. His voice cold as ice, calm,collected as he told his story. “Those were more recent; the reasonI came home. Why I was pronounced retired. Disabled.”
Her gaze travelled down, seeking to learnmore about the scars hidden under his shirt. So far, she hadn’trejected him. Vulnerable, he loosened his obstinate grip on hiscomposure; let her see his raw emotions. She deserved to see him,as he was. No more holding back, especially with Payson.
“Fucking ridiculous if you ask me. Othershave sustained injuries far worse than mine.” Pausing, deeplyabsorbed in his internal conflict, his gaze was lost in thefire.
“Who do you work for? What is it that youdo?” Her words drew him back to the present.
“I worked as an operative, as a spy, for theCIA for nearly 10 years.” He gaged her for a reaction.
Staring at him, expression a blend ofdisbelief and I-knew-it-all-along, she succumbed to a satisfiedsmile. She struggled to find the right words. Each time she tried,she’d shake her head again and let an adorable laugh slip.
Finally, she sighed, “How smug did you feelwhen I shared my little James Bond fantasy with you?”
His devilish grin returning, enjoying thereturn of her open smile and humor, he teased, “I’m surprised youremember. You were pretty drunk at the time. Let’s just say whenyou threw yourself at me a few minutes later, I thought you’dfigured it out.”
Face turning serious now, he admitted, “Iwanted to tell you sooner, truly. Hell, I fell in love with you assoon as I saw you pompously wiggling that ass, then slamming thebaseball right out of the park.”
Face distorted with inner struggle, shelooked like she wanted to say something. Or, at least, he wishedshe’d say something. Tell him she loved him too. That she was neverletting him go. Not today; she wasn’t ready yet. He’d dropped ahell of a bombshell.
Even he knew she’d been desperately searchingfor love for years. Dating for quantity rather than quality untilshe foundthe one. With Clive, she’d been mistaken, havingsettled for Mr. Nearly-Perfect.
Hell, her sister was so damn pushy andjudgmental about the whole ordeal, it was a miracle Payson hadgiven him the time of day. He could be patient, knowing she’d tellhim when she was ready. When she was sure of her feelings.
Instead, she asked, “So, how did you wind upworking for the CIA?”
“I’d wanted to join since I hit puberty.Worked my ass off to be the perfect candidate. I was recruitedright out of college… well, not exactly recruited, that’s just theofficial story,” he laughed, enjoying the moment. Telling her thewhole story was so much more gratifying than he could haveimagined.
“I was actually lucky I wasn’t arrested onthe spot. Not yet 20 and a sophomore in college, I made my way intoLangley under the guise of a school research project. While I wasthere, I, uh,” he smiled as he reflected on the memory. “I made itinto a restricted area. Found the highest-ranking person I couldfind.”
“Does anything ever get in your way? Ofgetting what you want?” Payson was smirking now, teasing. Sheinched closer until their bodies touched.
“I wish. I got lucky; I found Sara before theguards arrested me. She took one look at me and knew what I was upto. Without hesitation, she offered me a job right on the spot. Ihadn’t even needed the puffed-up resume I’d brought, highlightingmy studies on international affairs, fluency in French, Italian,and Spanish, budding conversational Russian. Since, I’ve developedpassable Farsi and Arabic. I was active in sports, as you know;physical training an hour or more every day.
“Anyway, I was more than prepared foranything the CIA may throw at me. I was good at it. Damn good.” Hesighed, looking into the flames again. “Until now.”
“What changed?” she set down her beer next tothe last of the fries she’d been nibbling at. She cracked a helpfulhalf-smile, “Aside from getting shot, of course. You sound like youwere changing your mind before you got shot.”
“I’m done with the fucking politics. Thelies.”
“Well, I can’t say I am sorry that you’reback to being a member of the civilian world. But, are you ok withit?”
