Carla Cassidy - Pawn

“Hi, Lynn.”

The familiar deep voice washed over her. “Nick,” she repeated and with utter abandon threw herself into his arms. Oh God, he smelled the same, a rich blend of minty soap and earthy cologne and his body against hers felt wonderfully magical.

It had been so long, so terribly long since she’d seen him and it wasn’t until this moment that she realized just how much she had missed him.

His arms wound around her for one sweet moment, then he disentangled himself and took a step backward. “Can I come in?”

“Yes, of course. Please, come in. My God, I can’t believe you’re here.” Her head reeled with his presence. Nick. It had been a year since she’d last seen him and the sight of him filled places inside her that had been hollow for so long.

She led him into the living room, wishing she’d dusted, regretting the fact that she hadn’t put on any makeup that morning. She couldn’t believe he was here in Phoenix, here in her living room.

As he sat on her beige sofa, she drank in the vision of him. There were subtle changes in him from the last time she’d seen him. His dark hair was longer and his face was thinner, giving his appearance a dangerous edge that hadn’t been there before.

But, some things remained the same. His white dress shirt tugged across broad shoulders and his dark slacks fit nicely across his slim hips and muscular legs. His eyes were just as dark and gorgeous as she remembered, but at the moment they held no real emotion.

She sat on a chair opposite the sofa and continued to stare at him as if he were some apparition. She’d dreamed of him often in the past year and what she wanted more than anything at this moment was to be in his arms.

Did he feel it, too? The sparks that had ignited between them a year ago now simmered once again in the pit of her stomach, on the verge of a full-blown inferno.

“How have you been? What are you doing here? Are you working here in the Phoenix area? You look wonderful.” Giddy happiness swelled inside her and for a moment she felt like the young, innocent woman she had once been.

“I’ve been all right.” His deep voice resonated inside her. His gaze swept the length of her. “And you look great.”

She ran a hand through her hair, once again wishing she’d put on makeup, taken a little more time with her appearance that morning. “Thanks,” she replied.

“I understand you’ve been doing well, using your computer skills to make a living.”

“I’m doing okay. Creative Communications is the name of my business and it’s been growing by leaps and bounds in the last couple of months.” Some of the giddiness she’d experienced only moments before dissipated somewhat as she sensed a distance in him.

“I’m glad you’re doing well, Lynn.”

The last of her giddiness fell away as he didn’t quite meet her gaze. Just because she had held thoughts of him close to her heart since their separation didn’t mean he’d done the same with memories of her.

He’d been her first lover and she’d always heard that women remembered their first. She certainly hadn’t been his first, so maybe their relationship had never meant as much to him as it had her.

“Nice place,” he said as he looked around the room.

“Thanks. The rent is reasonable and I like the general area.” She leaned forward. “So, you didn’t tell me. Are you working in the area?”

He looked at her then, and in his dark eyes she saw something that caused a faint cold wind to blow through her. “It’s a little more complicated than that.”

“What do you mean?” The beat of her heart, which had gone wild at the first sight of him now slowed to a dull thud of wariness.

For a long moment he didn’t answer as he once again broke eye contact with her. Whatever he had to say, it was obvious he was reluctant. He finally looked at her and any happiness she might have managed to hang on to fell away as she saw the unemotional, businesslike look in his eyes.

“They sent me here, Lynn,” he said. “They sent me here from Miami to try to convince you to work for them.”

“Then I guess that makes you a bastard,” she exclaimed.

The very first sight of her had been like a punch in the gut. She was as beautiful—no, more beautiful—than she had been a year before.

There was a new maturity in her unusual gold-green eyes, a confidence in her carriage that spoke of an inner strength that had been undeveloped when he’d known her before.

She’d been an innocent, very young twenty-two a year ago. Now she looked like a woman who had taken control of her life and was comfortable with the direction she intended to go.

He’d seen the happiness that had lit her eyes when she’d first opened the door and looked at him and had fought against a responding burst of joy in himself. She had been a thing of magic for him for all-too brief a time and in the first second of seeing her he’d once again felt that stir.

He couldn’t get caught up in the memories, in her. Things had changed and there were now powerful people playing significant roles in both their lives. Of course, she wasn’t aware of that yet, but within minutes she would understand that it was useless to fight the inevitable, that she could either go along with the program or be destroyed.

“I guess that does make me a bastard,” he agreed. “A bastard who is following orders.”

What little happiness remained in her eyes instantly doused at his words. Her gaze narrowed and her expression went from warm to arctic cool. “So, you’re here as a tool for the Feds to use against me.”

She stood and walked over to the living room window, her slender back presented to him like a wall. Her tight jeans hugged the length of her slender legs and cupped the curve of her shapely butt. The blue top she wore had spaghetti straps, making him realize there was no bra beneath. He definitely couldn’t allow his thoughts to go there.

“Go away, Nick. I already gave them my answer.” The flatness of her voice cut through him like a knife.

The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her, but he was in a box, and whether she knew it or not, she was in one, too. It was a box where somebody else had drawn the boundaries and there was no escape.

“It’s not that simple, Lynn,” he replied.

She whirled around to face him, her eyes more green than gold and radiating with an anger, a strength he’d not have thought possible in her. “What’s not simple? I told them no, and I’m telling you no. I’m not working for them and that’s that.”

“That’s not true,” he countered. He wondered what life had taught her in the past year. When they’d first become involved she’d been unusually naive, without the kind of experiences that taught character and strength and purpose. That had started to change when she’d learned of his true purpose in working for her godfather. Now he saw disillusionment shining from her unusual eyes.

He tamped down his regret. He was here to do a job and he couldn’t allow emotion or memories to cloud the issue.

He stood. “They aren’t going to let you go, Lynn. They need you, and what they need you for is in the interest of national security.”

“I don’t care why they need me. They can’t make me go back to work for them.” She swiped a strand of her shiny, reddish-brown hair behind an ear, a gesture he remembered that indicated stress.

“That’s where you’re wrong. They can make you. These people who contacted you, they aren’t your ordinary Feds. They’re hybrids, working for a splinter agency but under the guise of FBI. Trust me, these aren’t people to screw around with.”

He took a step toward her, unsurprised when she took a step back, wary suspicion playing in her eyes. He hated them for making him do this, for using him to get to her.