“Do you blame him?”
The men and women in that conference room were spies, spooks and feds—high-ranking members of the intelligence community. It dawned on her that she’d met several of these people. “Do you think my dad is right? Am I in danger?”
“Not right now.”
As they strolled to the elevators, his vigilant attitude relaxed, and he seemed to shed his bodyguard persona. She liked being with him. And he must like her, too. He’d kissed her, after all.
She pushed the elevator button. “Should I stay with the Prescotts or should I quit?”
“Do you like your job?”
“I do. It’s not a career I want for the rest of my life, but I like it.”
“Are you scared?”
She thought for a moment before answering. In the bathroom upstairs, she’d had a few moments of intense panic when she’d fallen through a time warp to relive her accident. But her fear had dissipated. “I’m cautious but not frightened.”
“Cautious is good,” he said as they boarded the elevator. “There’s no glory in taking risks.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
The elevator doors closed. They were wrapped together in a wood-paneled cocoon. She caught a whiff of his citrusy aftershave. She slowly blinked. In her imagination, their clothes melted away. In another long blink, they twined in each other’s arms. A gush of passion swept through her.
An elevator bell dinged when they hit the seventh floor, and she focused on him. He was watching her with a wary but bemused expression. “You checked out. What were you thinking?”
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