For Her Eyes Only. Tori Carrington

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      At least that’s what he told himself.

      He shifted again, recognizing the statement for the lie it was.

      He was drawn to this woman. It was as simple…as complicated as that. She ignited something within him impossible to ignore and equally foolish to pursue. But pursuing it he was.

      He scrubbed his face with his hands. He realized part of the reason he was intrigued by her was that her reason for being in the country had nothing to do with finding a better job than she could back home. Or because she was in search of the American dream. She wasn’t interested in any of that, as many foreign nationals were. She hadn’t applied for a green card. She’d merely wanted an extension on her visa. So she could find her daughter.

      There. There it was again. That bottomless feeling in the pit of his stomach.

      And the image of Michelle sitting in a rocking chair with a dark-haired child in her arms. Her thickly lashed eyes sparkling with warmth. Smiling.

      He left out of that thought the possibility that he wouldn’t see her again. Despite that her beat-up Ford was parked a few yards away from him, she could have already skipped town. And knowing what she’d told Brad, he was convinced she would live up to her threat. There was a strength about her. A determination he couldn’t help but be fascinated with.

      His hand automatically patted his empty jacket pocket. He sighed, then slipped his cell phone out of his other pocket. Within moments, his father answered his call.

      “Yeah, Pops, David around?”

      There was the sound of clinking silverware. Jake envisioned the kitchen of the house he’d grown up in, finding some comfort in the familiar. Of course, so many things had changed since Mitch’s wife, Liz, had moved in, but he chose to concentrate on those that had stayed the same.

      “Hey, yourself, Jake,” Sean said with that ever-present smile that had been in his voice lately. “He is. But are you sure you want to talk to him? He’s mad as hell that you’re not here yet. Not that I can blame him.” There was a heartbeat of a pause, then his father’s voice lowered. “It’s not like you to be late for anything. Everything all right?”

      “Just running a little behind.” Jake grimaced. There were some drawbacks to having a family who knew him so well. He didn’t doubt that if he were face-to-face with Sean, he wouldn’t have gotten away with such a vague statement. “Any luck finding my identification?”

      “Nope. Turned the place upside down earlier. Not even a fiber. Wait. Here comes David now.”

      Movement outside the car caught Jake’s attention. Michelle was coming out of her room, a backpack slung over her shoulder.

      “This better be good.” David’s voice filtered over the line.

      Jake pressed the disconnect button then opened the car door.

      MICHELLE SLUNG her pack onto the passenger’s seat. This was it. All she had left was an address. Nothing more. And there were no guarantees that this address would be any better than the ones the detective had gotten before. She took one last look at the closed door to Room Three. But what choice did she have? She would not, could not go home without Lili.

      “Going somewhere?”

      Michelle turned at the sound of the familiar voice. Given how little he’d said to her earlier at the café, she didn’t know why it should be familiar. It was more her body’s reaction to the deep timbre than anything that told her Jake McCoy had followed her to her motel.

      The funny thing was, she wasn’t surprised by his appearance—maybe because she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind since bumping into him in the parking lot of the INS building.

      She gripped the top of the door with her left hand. “Yes. I suppose I am.”

      He came to a stop before her. His back straight. His hair impeccably neat. His suit clean and pressed. She felt the sudden inexplicable desire to muss him all up.

      “You wouldn’t happen to be going to the airport now, would you?” he asked.

      Her fingers tightened on the hard metal of the door. “Airport?”

      “Yes. You know, for your flight home.” He patted the breast of his jacket the same way he had at the café, then grimaced, as if not finding something that was usually there.

      “No. No, I’m not going to the airport.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “What are you doing here?”

      It occurred to her that he couldn’t have followed her to the motel, because she hadn’t gone directly there after they left the café. She’d stopped at the detective’s office.

      That meant he was either a stalker or else he’d known where to find her.

      “Don’t tell me. You work for the INS, don’t you?”

      He stood a little straighter, if that was at all possible, stretching that lean torso, drawing her gaze to his slim hips and legs that appeared muscular even through the light material of his slacks. “Yes, I do.” He held out a business card. She took it, running her thumb over the raised lettering. Jake McCoy, Immigration Agent.

      She closed her eyes and swore in French. “This day keeps getting better and better. Only I could meet a guy I’m attracted to for the first time in what seems like forever, kiss him, then find out his mission in life is to make mine miserable.” She stared at him. “Does this mean you’re taking me to the airport?”

      He seemed to hesitate. “Do you want me to?”

      She tucked the card into the waist of her skirt. “Do I have a choice?”

      He glanced at a plain silver watch on his wrist. “Until midnight, you do.”

      She slid her hand from the door. “You have to be kidding.” She regarded his clear, direct gaze and realized he wasn’t.

      “Have you eaten yet?” he asked.

      “Eaten?”

      “Yes. Supper.”

      She thought of the granola bar she had stashed in her backpack. With the meager amount of money she had left, she didn’t have enough to splurge on little extras like food.

      “Do you want to, you know, go catch a bite?”

      “A bite?”

      “Yes.”

      She crossed her arms under her breasts. On another woman, the move might have been provocative. Not with her. Like everything else about her, her breasts were small. Nonetheless, she watched his gaze skim the front of her shirt, the darkening of his eyes telling. Her nipples hardened beneath the thin, soft cotton, and a slow, arousing shiver tickled her spine. “Let me, um, get this straight. Isn’t that how they say it? You’re telling me you’re with the INS. But you’re not taking me to the airport. You can’t. At least not until midnight. But you want to take me out to dinner. Is that right?”

      He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

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