He was right; it was obvious. She smiled and smirked. “If that’s the case—which I admit it does seem to be—why am I the only one undressed?”
“Because, you are mighty sexy, and I want to see you.”
Unbuttoning his shirt, Claire suckled his freshly shaven neck. “That doesn’t seem fair,” she purred. Her kisses moved down his chest until she couldn’t bend any lower. Sitting straight, she inhaled. “This does have its disadvantages.”
“One person’s disadvantages are another person’s advantage,” Tony said with his devilish grin melting her world. No longer did she feel large and awkward. Claire saw herself as Tony saw her. With her hand in his, he led her to the big bed, where his clothes and her panties disappeared into the pink puddle of the sundress.
Before she could consider or question, their world became one. It didn’t matter that her body and shape were changing. They belonged together.
Metaphorically—the wolf was at the door. Realistically—their life was upside down; however, in that moment, in their room, in their home, on their island, and in their paradise they had one another—it was a victory. Catherine had tried to keep them apart, and they had overcome her ploy. They didn’t know if they’d won a battle or the war. At that moment, celebration was their only goal.
“Tony?” Claire said as she nestled against his chest with the sound of his heart beating in her ear.
“Hmmm?”
“Tell me something.”
His arm wrapped around her bare shoulder. “I thought tonight was a no question night—a just about us night.”
She lifted her head, to see his face. “It is. I’m not asking about anything. I want you to tell me something.”
“Oh, you do? What do you want me to tell you?”
“I want you to tell me that we’re safe, that Catherine, the FBI, that no one can take this away from us.”
The amusement of her demand faded. She watched as Anthony Rawlings CEO emerged from the man she’d just held tight. She immediately recognized his voice; it was the one he used with business, the one that left no room for debate, the one she used to hate—it was the tone she needed. “We’re safe. No one—and I repeat no one—will ever take my family away from me.”
Claire kissed his cheek and settled back into the crook of his arm. She knew what he’d just said was beyond his control; however, she could pretend. The illusion filled her with the momentary peace she needed. Within minutes, she was sound asleep on Tony’s hard shoulder.
Be more concerned with your character than your reputation, because your character is what you really are, while your reputation is merely what others think you are.
—John Wooden
For the hundredth time, Agent Harrison Baldwin read the screen of his phone and wondered if he could avoid the multitude of text messages any longer. If he didn’t respond, would SAC Williams suddenly forget the tirade and possible demotion that was undoubtedly coming his way? There was no question, he deserved it. Harry had done exactly what SAC Williams told him not to do—he’d allowed the case to become personal. Harry knew that wasn’t true. The Nichols/Rawlings case hadn’t become personal—it had been personal from before he saw Claire Nichols in Italy.
Harry decided that his inability to keep his assignment professional was in part due to his own screwed up personal life. Unfortunately, he’d allowed both lives to intertwine—when it came to an FBI agent—that was never a good thing.
The best part of his personal life had been his more recent reconnection to his sister. Without a doubt, Amber was his closest family, and after his divorce, that was what he truly needed.
Throughout the history of time, Harry had been too quick to fall in love. Ilona was no exception, and when they were young and living the dream in southern California, there had been love—or so they both thought; then life happened.
Harry’s fascination with law enforcement started in childhood. He wasn’t sure how or why, yet from a young age, he knew that was the path he intended to pursue. It began with a degree in Criminology, which led him to the California Bureau of Investigation. Ilona knew she’d married a police officer and was all right with that; however, she hadn’t signed up to be the wife of an FBI agent.
Harry’s initial enquiry into the FBI was actually on a dare—a late night out with police buddies and booze; nevertheless, before he knew it, things started happening—he passed phase one and two of the testing—passed the skills tests—and received the conditional letter of appointment.