Page 136 of The Twilight Theft

The front door opened and a figure appeared.

Drew.

My heart beat higher in my chest, and excited energy began pinging around inside me. The same energy that flooded me every time I saw my boyfriend.

“What the—” hell was going on?

He’d stayed with me for a month after our return from Washington. Two weeks ago, he’d left on a business trip of undetermined length to an undisclosed location. My team went radio silent when we landed in Grand Cayman, so as much as I’d hoped to see him at my place when I got back, I hadn’t expected it.

Definitely hadn’t expected to see him at someone else’s place in the middle of nowhere.

“I make no bones about playing matchmaker in Washington, but this one’s all him.” Emmett popped the trunk release. “Get your stuff. I’ll see you at the office in a couple of days.”

I pulled a piece of gum out of my pocket and unwrapped it.

Bad idea. There was a man to kiss out there.

I dropped the gum into the little trash behind the center console and opened the door.

Drew hadn’t come out to grab my bags. Strange. He said he enjoyed doing things like that for me.

It was early August, hot and muggy outside, but the scent of salt air told me we were close to the water—not that it was a stretch in Halifax. I towed my bag across the end of the driveway and onto the interlocking brick walkway. “Too busy looking mysterious in the big house to help a girl out?”

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” He smiled, and the closer I got, the more the butterflies flitted over my skin.

When had the ants switched to butterflies? Or had they ever really been anxious ants? Not that it mattered, because the sight of him had become the most wonderful thing in my world. “How much did you pay Emmett to drive me out here?”

He stepped out of my way as I rolled the bag in. No kiss. No hug. Only courtesy.

What was going on?

“Where’s my hug?” I looked around, confusion spreading through my brain. Scents overwhelmed me. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply. Baking bread. Cookies. Cinnamon rolls. “Am I dead?”

The house seemed bigger on the inside. A vaulted ceiling stretched the length of the left side, from an office to a great room with couches and a huge television. On the right, a formal dining room with a table and ten chairs. Separated from the dining room by white pillars was a sprawling kitchen. At the far end, a granite fireplace sat dormant. A wall of windows spread out from either side of the fireplace, providing a sweeping view. There was just enough moonlight to tell the house overlooked the water.

“Not dead, no.”

“How was your… um…” I yawned again. “How was your little cloak and dagger trip?”

“Good.” His jaw clenched, but not in the serious or frustrated way. In the way it did when he was holding back a smile. “I started in Ottawa, visiting some folks with CSIS. Professional courtesy, plus quelling some fears about a former spy going to work for an incarcerated spy’s wife.”

My heart skipped several beats. “Did Evelyn…”

“She sent me an offer less than an hour after I told Scarlett I was coming back with you.” He took a step toward me and ran his fingers down my arm. “But I wanted to get a feel for things before making any commitments.”

“Things?”

“Us.”

“You know you haven’t hugged me yet?”

“You drive me crazy.” He smiled, but came no closer. “And it didn’t get any easier when I was staying with you.”

My first instinct was to promise I’d clean more. Listen more. Do more of something so he wouldn’t end what we had so soon. Instead, I shrugged. “I am who I am.”

“Shoes off,” he whispered.

What?

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