Chapter One

One month later

Pulling open the café door, Becca tried to ignore the sweat slipping down her back. Hot, sticky, and humid was the only way to describe today’s weather. She’d merely walked from the medical building down the street to the café, and her blouse clung to her skin. Thank goodness she worked in an air-conditioned office. She couldn’t imagine working outside on a day like this.

She passed the crowded tables and paused in front of the display cases. Blood work had been part of her yearly physical this morning, which meant she hadn’t ingested anything but water since last night. Judging by the unladylike noises her stomach had started making while she dressed after her exam, her body was most displeased with her. Before she went into her blissfully cool office and the noises from her stomach scared away her coworkers, she needed to eat something.

The carrot cake muffin immediately caught her eye, and she joined the line of customers placing orders and looked over the various coffee options.

“What can I get for you this morning?” the employee behind the counter asked.

“Extra-large iced latte with nonfat milk and no sugar.”

The woman grabbed a cup, scribbled notes on the side, and handed it off to another employee. “Anything else today?”

“Yes, a carrot cake muffin,” Becca said. “Actually, make that a carrot cake muffin and a poppy seed muffin, please.”

She’d cut all carbs from her diet in the spring, which had unfortunately included muffins and bagels—both of which she loved. Since she’d seen no huge health benefits from the little experiment, she’d decided last week to slowly reintroduce healthy carbs into her diet. Muffins certainly didn’t fall into the healthy carbs category, but everyone needed to splurge from time to time. She’d enjoy one muffin now and save the other for tonight. Then she wouldn’t have another for a few months.

With her order in hand, Becca scouted the café for a place to sit. Not long after taking her current position in Washington, she’d learned the hard way that eating and driving was a bad combination. Now she didn’t even drink water while behind the wheel.

Although already ten o’clock on a Thursday morning, the place remained packed. She was about to give up on getting a seat and simply eat her snack in the car before she headed to the office when a college-aged man wearing a Georgetown University T-shirt left his spot at the counter near the windows.

Before anyone else could snag it, Becca made a beeline for the empty stool. She took a sip of her drink before she did anything else, the heavenly concoction of caffeine and cold milk hitting the spot, and sat. “Do you mind passing me a napkin?” she asked, glancing at her neighbor as she reached into the paper bag for a muffin. Her hand froze inside the bag when the man turned his head in her direction.

“Connor?” She searched for any sign the man recognized her. “Connor Anderson?” It had to be him. She often forgot where she left her house keys or cell phone, but she never forgot a face.

He shifted on the stool, his expression telling her everything. He recognized her but wasn’t sure he wanted to acknowledge the fact. Finally, he nodded. “Becca André, right?”

His deep, sensual voice sent a ripple of awareness through her now, the same way it had when they were in high school. Becca nodded. “I haven’t seen you since…” She caught herself before she brought up a topic Connor most likely would prefer to avoid. In his shoes, she would want to avoid it, anyway. “The summer after graduation. How are you?”

Actually, the last time she’d seen him had been at her best friend’s end-of-summer party. She didn’t remember every party she’d attended in high school, but she remembered that one well. It’d been a few days before everyone headed off to college. She and Connor had snuck into the pool house. They hadn’t had sex, but they’d come darn close. If her older sister, Giselle, hadn’t barged in and announced the FBI was at Connor’s house, they probably would’ve.

The next day the news broke that Patrick Anderson, Connor’s father, had been arrested. The following weekend Connor left for Harvard, and she’d headed down to Georgetown. Even though she’d tried calling him several times afterward, much to her disappointment, he hadn’t returned any of the calls, and eventually, she gave up. As far as she knew, no one in their graduating class had seen him since then either, although she knew his mom and her second husband, Xavier Leonard, still lived in Greenwich. Actually, Mr. and Mrs. Leonard’s home wasn’t far from her mom and stepdad’s house.

“Can’t complain. You?”

Again Connor’s voice washed over her, and Becca wished the café had the thermostat set a few degrees lower. “Good. Are you headed to work?” she asked.

She’d stopped in the café multiple times since it opened, and she'd never spotted Connor. Anyone else and she’d accept she might have overlooked him, but you couldn’t overlook Connor Anderson. It wasn’t that he was the biggest or the most gorgeous man in the room, although there was no denying he was fantasy-worthy. He simply had a presence about him. He always had. And the years hadn’t done anything to diminish it.

“No. I had an appointment at the medical building down the street. Needed to have some stitches removed.” He gestured toward the white bandage his short-sleeved shirt didn’t completely cover.

Becca took a long sip of her iced latte. She really should eat her snack and get her butt out the door. What she should do and what she wanted to do were two very different things, however. She hadn’t thought about Connor in years, but for a long time after his father’s arrest and trial, she’d wondered what happened to him. Everyone who was anyone in Greenwich knew he’d gone to Harvard as planned that fall. They also knew he’d dropped out after freshman year and joined the Marines. But that was where any information pertaining to Connor ended. His parents, younger sister, and two stepsiblings were another story.

“I was over there myself. Yearly physical and blood work this morning.” If he visited a doctor in the same building as hers, he either lived or worked close by. “What happened?” She pointed toward the bandage.

“Minor accident at work.” He reached for his black coffee. She didn’t know how anyone could drink the stuff black. She’d tried more than once but just couldn’t do it. She even preferred her tea with a splash of milk and sugar, although if left with no other option she would drink it without the sugar.

“If it required stitches, it must have more than a minor accident.”

In almost thirty-four years, she’d only needed stitches once. She’d been ice-skating on the lake and tripped. She’d fallen before while skating—who hadn’t—but this time she whacked her chin on a chunk of ice and earned herself several stitches. She still had the faint scar to show for it.

“Trust me, I’ve had worse,” he said before he took a sip of coffee.

His clothes gave her no hints as to the type of profession he had ended up in, so if she wanted to know, she’d have to ask. “Where do you work? Somewhere on the Hill?”

Many of the people who frequented the café worked in Washington, and those who didn’t were often tourists visiting the country’s capital.

“I wouldn’t make it a day there. Too much—” Connor paused, but she already knew what he was thinking. And he wasn’t wrong either. “—stuff I don’t agree with. I’d get myself fired within hours. I’m working for Elite Force Security.”

She’d heard of the fortysomething-year-old firm located in Virginia. It was considered the best private security firm in the country. Everyone from Hollywood movie stars and world-famous musicians to millionaires hired Elite Force whenever they needed bodyguards. She could easily picture people she knew, including Connor’s mother and her own parents, hiring the firm—but not working for it.

I wouldn’t complain about having you as a bodyguard. “I’ve heard they’re the best out there,” she said, instead of what she was really thinking.

Connor reached for the breakfast sandwich in front of him. “What about you? Do you work in D.C.?”

She watched his hands, noting the handful of scars covering them. Each one was a clear reminder he’d led a very different life since graduating high school than most of their classmates. “Yes. I took a position with Senator Lynch when he was elected four years ago.”

Connor closed his eyes momentarily and took another bite of his breakfast sandwich. There had to be at least five cafés within walking distance of the medical building, yet she’d entered the same one as him.

He’d recognized her voice the moment she asked him to pass a napkin. Becca André had been the hottest girl in high school. Hell, she’d been the hottest girl in town. And although he’d dated his fair share of girls, he’d panted after her their entire senior year. Unfortunately, for most of it, she’d been dating the class asshole, Max Shelton. When Shelton dumped her a couple days before graduation, he’d made his move. They’d never been an actual couple in his mind. However, they’d spent plenty of time together, and he’d taken things as far as she’d let him.

He hadn’t seen her, though, since the night his life got turned on its friggin’ head. It was a night he never thought about anymore. With Becca sitting next to him, the memories of it played across his mind like a bad B-grade movie.

He’d easily convinced her no one would care if they snuck into the pool house. Kids did it every time Leslie, Becca’s best friend, threw a party at her family’s house. Once inside, things moved along just as he’d hoped. He’d been about to grab the condom from his wallet when her older sister knocked, opened the door, and announced the FBI was at his house.

He’d rushed home, leaving Becca still half-dressed in the pool house. Then he kept a low profile until he moved into college. Over the next several months, he made few trips back to Connecticut.

Even before he moved into his dorm, he’d known Harvard wasn’t the place for him. He’d only applied because both his father and grandfather had attended. He’d sucked it up, though, and given it a try for his grandfather’s sake. By April he’d had enough of the people and politics filling the campus. He enlisted in the Marine Corps and headed to Parris Island not long after. He’d never regretted his decision either.

“Yeah, I heard he’d been elected,” he said.

Connor’s trips back to his home state or even New England, in general, were infrequent. His younger sister seemed to think he cared about what went on up there, though, and regularly filled him in. When the former Connecticut governor won his first term in Washington, she’d made sure to let him know.

“Do you like working for him?” He’d rather have his hand sawed off with a butter knife than work directly for one of the senators or representatives serving in Washington. But some people loved politics and wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. In fact, his sister, Stephanie, was planning to get her feet wet in local politics during the next election.

“Most days,” Becca admitted.

She wiped her hands on a napkin, and he noted the absence of any rings on her left hand. Actually, she didn’t have on much jewelry. A decent-sized emerald on her right hand reflected the sunlight coming through the café windows, and gold hoops dangled from her ears. That was it except for her wristwatch.

“Every job has its up and downs,” she continued, glancing down at her watch. “Yikes. I didn’t realize it was so late.” She stuffed the untouched half of her muffin back into the paper bag and added a few napkins. “I’d love to catch up more. Any chance you’re free this weekend? Saturday and Sunday are both wide open for me.”

If anyone else from his past sat next to him, he’d immediately say he had plans. He had no desire to catch up with anyone he’d gone to high school with. The fact that Becca André was asking had him reconsidering. He’d thought about her often during his first semester at college. More than once he’d dreamed about meeting up with her and finishing what they started the night in the pool house. A few times he’d even considered contacting her. Even after he’d learned, via his younger sister of course, that she’d started dating the son of a Canadian politician, Connor had considered it. But around the same time he decided to leave college, he’d pushed her from his thoughts. Becca, much like Harvard, belonged to a world he wanted nothing to do with.

Or at least he’d tried to push her from his thoughts. It didn’t happen much anymore, but every once in a while she popped into his dreams, even now.

“Yeah, I’m free Saturday.”

Her lips curved into a radiant smile, and the memory of kissing her all those summers ago snuck its way into his thoughts. Damn, she has a beautiful smile.

Becca pulled a business card from her purse and wrote on the back. “Both my cell and office phone numbers are on here, and I put my address on the back.” She handed him the card. “We can meet somewhere, or you can pick me up.” She shrugged slightly. “Actually, I could come pick you up if you want. Whatever you prefer, I’m flexible.”

Connor dropped the business card into his shirt pocket. “No need. I’ll come to you. One o’clock good?”

“Perfect.” She gave him another smile and gathered up her things. “See you then.”

He watched her exit the café and walk down the sidewalk. Outside, several men near the entrance followed her with their eyes as she passed the window. Some people didn’t age well. His stepsister was a perfect example. Of course, it didn’t help that Jill was constantly going under the knife and getting injections of God knew what in a futile attempt to look younger. Time had had the opposite effect on Becca. She’d been a knockout in high school. The girl all the guys wanted. The years since then hadn’t changed that. Instead, they’d somehow made her hotter.

Connor took another bite of his breakfast sandwich then reached for the business card in his pocket. Flipping it over, he read the address and the note she’d added. Looking forward to seeing you Saturday and catching up more.

Me too, he thought. It might have been years since he’d let himself think about her, but from now until Saturday, she’d be a constant in his head.