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had followed in his deceased father’s footsteps by serving his country, first in the military, then as a courier of sensitive information. Rae’s school record had shown she had an acute understanding of world politics, and her counselor had mentioned that her interest was somehow related to her childhood. Like Jarrett, Rae was perfectly suited to the life of a courier. A loner with no family and no close ties, self-contained and completely self-reliant. Eager to learn and a quick study. Dedicated and tireless.
    Yes, she’d proven to be all of those things, but he’d never looked past them. He had never cared to. He would have never let himself care. If he had, he might have been able to avert some of the pain she’d suffered—at least the part he was responsible for.
    Beating himself up over that still didn’t explain why he was now struggling not to wonder about all sorts of unnecessary things about her. Like, why had she chosen the mountain and not the beach? How did she spend her days? What did she do during the long winter nights?
    And did she spend them all alone …?
    Jarrett swore under his breath and carefully unwrapped his hand. Damn stupid thing to do. He’d beentrying to clean up a little with cool water when a wave of dizziness had overtaken him. He’d knocked the glass over, and when he’d gone to catch it, he’d ended up smashing it between his hand and the edge of the sink. Then he’d lost his balance, resulting in the very thing he’d wanted to avoid: summoning Rae to the rescue.
    God knows he hadn’t done the same for her the one and only time she’d needed him to.
    “I didn’t have any more gauze, but I found some large bandages and a few butterfly strips.”
    Jarrett looked up to find her in the doorway, and he was instantly assaulted by vivid images of the day, two years before, when security had escorted her to his office. He’d barely contained his shock when they’d notified him that she’d broken into the compound and had been taken into custody. His first thought should have been how in the hell had she gotten past his supposedly impenetrable security system? Instead it had been, thank God, she’s alive! And that thought had been accompanied by a deep sense of joy that had caught him completely off guard.
    She’d stood proudly in his office doorway, proud, but broken. Broken in body, broken in heart, broken in spirit. That had all been there, too obvious to hide, yet she had tried. Her straight chin had jutted out from the snarled mass of ragged, unwashed hair. Her beaten frame had been covered by torn clothes, seemingly held together with dirt and blood, but her posture had been imperiously erect. The biggest blow to his control, though, had been her eyes. Empty yet contained, emotionless yet intense, unwavering from his, even as herbody trembled from the supreme effort of just standing there.
    Yet it wasn’t until that moment, sitting in her bathroom, inside the fortress she’d erected to keep herself safe, that he finally allowed himself to think about Rae as a woman.
    Inexperienced with the emotions tangling up his insides and not at all certain what to do with them, Jarrett did the only thing he knew how to do. He shut them out. Uncontrollable emotions had no place in his job. And he was still on the job. Hell, he was always on the job.
    Obviously unaware of his inner turmoil, Rae breezed into the bathroom and perched on the edge of the tub beside his outstretched, bandaged thigh.
    “I appreciate it,” he said gruffly, reaching for the supplies she held.
    She didn’t give them to him. Instead she gently but firmly took hold of his wounded hand and pulled it onto her lap. She bent her head to examine the gash on his palm, then, in her typically efficient fashion, began to clean it.
    Jarrett’s shoulders tensed and he consciously had to relax before the rest of his body tightened up and drove him back to the floor with cramps—or worse. It had nothing to do with pain.