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had never expected to feel this way about a woman, and he'd surely never expected to love someone who didn't love him back.
    * * *
    A feeble sun woke the world the next morning, and Gina woke with it. Her next sensory perception was the smell of coffee. But, as drawn to it as she was, that coffee meant Patrick was up—and she wasn't sure she was ready to face him. She owed him the truth, about a lot of things, and she had no idea where to start.
    Patrick had changed. He was cool, reserved, and he'd turned her down—twice. He wasn't going to make this easy for her. Not that she blamed him.
    Damn! She had some serious groveling to do, so she'd best get started.
    She shoved her hair off her face, stood, and straightened her shoulders. First, the bathroom, some splashes of cold water—then Patrick. When she stepped into the main room—the apartment was compact, kitchen at one end, living room at the other—Patrick's back was to her. Although she was barefoot and hadn't made a sound, he turned to her immediately. His expression was sober, so sober it stopped her where she stood.
    "Sleep okay?" he asked.
    "Uh-huh."
    "Good." He turned back to the cupboards and took out a box of cereal.
    She had to smile. "Cocoa Puffs. Some things don't change."
    "And some things do." He set the box on the table, dug out a couple of bowls, some milk, and two spoons. Then he put a steaming cup of coffee on the table. "Sit," he said. His words an echo of her own from just a few hours ago.
    She sat, picked up the coffee, and drank. While she looked for a place to start, Patrick ate Cocoa Puffs.
    He stopped long enough to ask, "So... when did you learn to crack a safe?"
    Okay... She set her coffee down, but kept her hands around it. As anchors went, it was all she had. "When I was fifteen. My dad was in the security business." She took a breath. "On both sides of the law. He started as a locksmith, purely legit. Saw more money on the other side and went for it. That got him ten years, and eventually a job with the FBI as their go-to guy."
    "Interesting career path. Where is he now?"
    "London. Doing some consulting for MI5."
    Silence.
    Gina gulped down some air. "Dad taught me well and when Marco started working for the Raven Force, he mentioned my, uh, skill to Tanner Cross. It's what got my foot in the door." She stopped. "That and my time with the CIA."
    Patrick, who'd given up on his Cocoa Puffs, picked up his coffee. "How long were you with them?"
    "Four years."
    "And when we met?"
    Her heart pounded a couple of good ones, then stalled. "I was with Raven Force. Between engagements. I didn't expect I'd— I didn't expect... you. You were—"
    Silence.
    "What was I, Gina?"
    Misery pooled like bad soup in her gut. "I don't know. Back then, I only knew what you were supposed to be."
    She couldn't sit still anymore, so she got up. So did Patrick, but while he said nothing, his eyes held a thousand questions.
    "You were supposed to be a distraction. A good-looking guy who knew his way around the bedroom. A guy I could have a few laughs with, and walk away from when I had to."
    "I see." He was still, the only movement in the room his chest rising and falling.
    She shook her head. "No. No, you don't see, because you can't. You can't see the lies I told myself about how easy it would be, how I'd get over you. Eventually stop thinking about you 24/7. You can't see that I loved you—because I didn't know until I was a world away from you. Until I knew there was no way back. I'd have to admit to all my lies, and I was too much the coward for that." She paced a couple of steps. "And there was still my job. You were a cop. Not only does Raven Force not always do things by the book—" Briefly, she shut her eyes. "It was a job that would never let me be what you want."
    "And what might that ' want ' have been?" The gleam in his eyes was oddly speculative.
    "Come on, Patrick! Sure you were cop—but you're a traditional guy. You wanted to come home at night,