Special Agent's Surrender

He took a long pull on the fresh beer and tried to ignore the scent of her that still eddied in the air. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smelled the pleasant scent of a woman or touched warm silky skin in a fevered caress.

The only women in his life in the last year had initially been faces on flyers who had eventually become bodies in crime scene photos. And their deaths had been his fault.

He shook his head and took another deep swallow of his beer to dispel any horrible visions that might drag across his brain. He didn’t want to think about those women, knew that dwelling on them would cast him into the darkest of despair.

As if this personal baggage wasn’t enough, his sister had disappeared almost four months before. He’d used what resources he could in an attempt to find any trace of her whereabouts, but had come up empty-handed, as was the case in all his brothers’ investigations.

He had a feeling his sister was dead, otherwise they would have found something, heard something by now. It was just a new grief he refused to acknowledge.

He frowned as Layla emerged from the bedroom and sat on the sofa. He glanced at her and she gave him an overly bright smile. “So, what are you doing here? Are you in hiding, too?” she asked.

“Something like that,” he replied. The red sweater she wore enhanced the pale blond of her hair and the blue of her eyes. Suddenly his thoughts turned to another woman. Sarah. She’d been wearing red the last time he’d seen her. His stomach clenched tight.

“I usually hear all the gossip but I haven’t heard anyone mention that you were back in town.” Her voice was raised to be heard over the blaring television.

Reluctantly he lowered the volume. “Besides my family I’d prefer nobody know I’m here.”

“Why?”

“Because I want it that way,” he replied curtly and hoped she’d drop the subject. He didn’t intend to tell anyone what had brought him back here, the culpability he’d had in the last case he’d worked.

She crossed one long slender leg over the other and leaned back, looking as comfortable as if she were in her own home. “So, what do you do to pass the time?”

He sighed. She was obviously determined to have some sort of conversation with him. “I drink beer and watch television or I listen to the silence,” he replied pointedly.

“I’ve never been a beer drinker. I like wine, especially a light blush, and sometimes a strawberry daiquiri is good. But if I’m celebrating something special I love a glass or two of champagne.”

Shoot me now, Jacob thought as she continued explaining what drinks she liked and didn’t like. She certainly didn’t act like a woman whose life had just been threatened. It was just his luck to be cooped up with a superficial woman hell-bent on talking him to death.

When she finally wound down her alcoholic drinks speech, she launched into a monologue about how much she liked Christmas. He tuned her out, making her voice white noise in his head.

“Jacob?”

He reluctantly tuned back in as he realized she must have said his name several times. “Is there anything around here to eat?” she asked. “I skipped dinner and now I’m starving.”

He pointed toward the kitchen. “Help yourself.” He breathed a sigh of relief as she got up and disappeared into the next room.

There had been a time when he liked nothing more than sitting with an attractive woman and indulging in a little flirtatious small talk, and if it led to something more all the better. But, that had been before Sarah, and before the case that had broken him.

And he was broken.

As an FBI agent.

As a man.

He took another long pull of his beer as he listened to the sounds of rattling pots and pans from the kitchen. Benjamin always made sure he had plenty of groceries so she’d have any number of things to choose to eat.

His stomach rumbled as the scent of frying bacon filled the air. He hadn’t eaten supper and he’d skipped lunch, as well, opting for a liquid diet of booze.

Most of the time if he was going to eat he either made himself a sandwich or zapped something in the microwave. Food had lost its appeal, as had most things in life.

Layla stepped into the doorway. “I’m making a bacon and cheese omelet. Want half?”

He didn’t want anything from her, but his stomach decided otherwise and he nodded affirmatively. “Okay,” he agreed. Within minutes she called to him that it was ready.

“I’ll just eat in here,” he replied.

Once again she appeared in the doorway. “No way,” she said with a hint of steel in her voice. “I’ve got the food on the table and it’s only civilized that we eat there.”

“What makes you think I’m civilized?” he countered. God help him, not only did he have a chatty woman on his hands but apparently a bossy one, as well.

“If you want to eat, then you’ll come into the kitchen.” She disappeared from the doorway.

He stared after her. Who did she think she was to come in here and try to tell him what he should and shouldn’t do? If she thought she was going to run this place while she was here then she had another thing coming. Reluctantly he got to his feet.

He was starving and at the moment the issue didn’t seem important enough to fight about. He carried his beer bottle into the tiny kitchen where she’d set the small dinette table for two. He dumped the rest of his beer down the sink drain, tossed the bottle into the trash and then took the seat at the table across from her.

Above the scent of the bacon he could smell the ridiculously sexy fragrance of her perfume. Sitting this close to her he could see the gold flecks that sparked in her blue eyes as she gazed at him and to his stunned surprise a tiny flame ignited in the pit of his stomach.

“So, what happened to you?”

The question surprised him, along with his unexpected physical reaction to her nearness. “Nothing happened.” He picked up his fork and focused on the food in front of him even though he felt her gaze remaining on him.

“You look like hell,” she said.

Jacob set down his fork and gazed at her balefully. “We’re here together through no choice of mine. I don’t want to share personal feelings and experiences with you. I don’t want to make pleasant little chitchat. I just want to be left alone.” He picked up his fork and began to eat once again.

“Looks to me like you’ve been left alone too long,” she said as if unable to not be the one who had the last word.

He ignored her and ate as quickly as possible, ignoring the fact that she continued to look at him as she ate her dinner. When he was finished he carried his dish to the sink, washed it and set it in the drainer to dry.

He left the kitchen without saying a word and returned to the recliner that had become his second best friend, after his beer.

Within minutes she’d returned to the room and to his dismay once again positioned herself on the sofa. “So, Layla, what’s been going on in your life for the last couple of years?” she said. “Oh, not much. I own the only realty in town but unfortunately business has been pretty slow lately. I like Chinese food, I’m a Libra and I love to dance.”

For the first time in months Jacob felt the urge to smile. It stunned him. It felt like an affront to all the blood that stained his hands.

“Are you always so irritating?” he asked.

She frowned as if seriously considering his question. “I suppose it depends on who you talk to. My friends don’t find me irritating, but it’s possible some of my old boyfriends might. And just for the record you’re more than a little bit irritating, too.”

He felt her gaze on him as he stared at the television. “You didn’t used to be this way,” she continued. “In fact you used to be every teenage girl’s fantasy.”

“Yeah, well things change, and now I’m going to sleep.” He clicked off the television, lowered his chair to a sleep position and then closed his eyes.

He was acutely aware of her in the silence of the room—her scent, the bubbling energy she brought and the faint whisper of the sound of her breathing. He felt her gaze on him but refused to open his eyes.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he heard her finally get up, and a moment later the door to the bedroom closed. He opened his eyes and frowned thoughtfully.