Relentless (39 page)

Rhys inclined his head. “And me.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist. “Do you want to?”

He dropped his gaze. “You know I'm done with the Unit, but... This is a line of work I'm good at. And I want Tehrazzi wiped off the map as bad as anyone. I trust Luke and the others.”

“I don't want you to be in danger.”

“I know.” Watching her, he exhaled. “Why don't you come with me?”

“What? What would I do in Beirut?”

“You said you wanted to travel with me.”

Was he joking? “Yeah, I meant somewhere
away
from militant extremists.”

“Ben's got that place wired tighter than the White House. And we could always use your expertise.”

“You mean if you got shot up again? God, Rhys— ”

He pulled her into a tight hug. “I don't know what I want to do yet, but this is something I want to help with if Luke needs me. Can you understand why I need to see this through?”

Yes, she admitted grudgingly. Along with his honor and integrity, his determination was a big part of why she'd fallen in love with him. And to be honest, the desire for justice burned within her, too. She wanted Tehrazzi punished for what he'd done, and though she'd rather someone else went in after him than Rhys, she understood why he was motivated to finish it.

His breath was warm against her temple. “I really want you to come with me. Let's spend a few weeks in the sun together, and then we'll see what happens after.”

She pulled back. “God, why couldn't you have been an accountant or something?”

His grin was quick and genuine. “Because you wouldn't love me as much.”

“Yes, I would, you just wouldn't be quite as sexy.” She huffed out a breath, determined to change the subject. “Dinner's getting cold. Let's eat before all your hard work goes to waste.”

Rhys's eyes twinkled as he reached behind him. “There's a method to my madness tonight.”

She gave him a wary look. “How come I don't like the sound of that?”

From behind his back he brought out two sets of chopsticks and held them up. “You game?”

“God, you're such a slave driver.” With a sigh, she took one set from him in her right hand, determined to meet the silent challenge he offered. Her fingers were clumsy as she tried to get them adjusted in her grip, her thumb slow to obey her commands. Even as she tried to cover her awkwardness, she was filled with love for his thoughtfulness.

In his quiet way he always tried so hard to help her in every means possible. There to listen to her if she wanted to talk, holding her tight when she woke up in the jaws of a nightmare; cheering her on during her efforts at physical therapy. The chopsticks weren't instruments of torture, they were a mission for her to complete. Something Rhys had thought of before he'd done the grocery shopping that morning, to help her work on her endurance and dexterity. A new method designed to gently push her.

Holding the smooth polished sticks in her hand, she swallowed the lump in her throat and fought back tears.

Rhys covered her hand with his warm one. “I can get you a fork.”

“No. No, it's not that.” She fought to get hold of herself before she started blubbering. “It just... It touches me that you're so thoughtful.”

His hand went to the back of her neck and wrapped around it. Nev closed her eyes to absorb the feel of it. Strong. Comforting. Protective. Just like the man before her.

“I want to make you happy, Nev.”

She took his hand and pressed a kiss in the center of his wide palm, then stared into his deep blue eyes. Whatever life had in store for her, she wanted it to happen with Rhys at her side, whether it was marriage and kids someday or traveling the world together. All she needed was him. “I love you more than I ever knew I could love anyone.”

His eyes darkened and he pulled the chopsticks from her grasp. “Come here.”

She melted inside. “But what about dinner?”

He set their plates aside, the erotically charged smile he gave her sending a ripple of heat over her skin. “Life's too short, Nev.” Reaching for her, he gathered her into his arms. The tempered strength of them melted her. His seductive whisper brushed against her ear, over her body and straight into her heart. “I think we should start with dessert.”

Kaylea Cross has dreamed of being an author since she was a child. A Registered Massage Therapist, this mother of two is an avid gardener, artist, Civil War buff, belly dancer and former national level softball pitcher.

She lives near Vancouver, B.C. with her husband and energetic little boys.

www.thewildrosepress.com