One week later

“Where did you learn to make empanadas?” I question, as I watch her busily preparing our dinner. She moves efficiently around like she’s skilled in the kitchen.

“My mom loved to cook, and I guess you could say I was her sous chef.” She peers over her shoulder, flashing me a small smile.

I find myself echoing one back. She’s adorable and her feisty personality is extremely attractive. As much as I like the strength and steely composure she wears like a shield, I find her smile irresistible. When the corners of her mouth lift at something I’ve said there’s a sense of accomplishment for me. I want to make her smile and laugh. She’s been through so much and the way she’s handling all the upheaval in her life is admirable and mature beyond her years.

Zoe bounces from the stove to the fridge and back to the stove, light on her feet like most traditionally trained martial artists are. My eyes follow her every step. I enjoy watching her more than I should. Her long, dark brown hair is twisted up on top of her head exposing the graceful nape of her neck. The urge to walk over and press a kiss to the unblemished expanse is powerful.

Zoe glances over her shoulder as if she senses the heat of my stare. Our gazes briefly lock and it’s like a punch to my gut. Is she attracted to me also? The way she’s working her compelling bottom lip between her teeth makes me wonder. I find myself studying the plump curve when she’s not looking and wondering what it would feel like under my tongue and teeth. What if I sucked it between my lips? Would it taste as satisfying as I imagine?

Zoe slams a cabinet door shut with a crack drawing me out of my inappropriate thoughts. Fuck. What’s going on with me? I’ve never had a problem remaining professional on a job. I keep my distance, do what’s required of me, to the best of my ability. What is it about her that draws me in and has me wanting to get to know her more? Do I want to be her friend? Am I feeling bad for her because she’s completely alone or am I attracted to her? The more I ponder these questions, the more I know there’s no easy answer. I do want to be her friend and she is attractive - beautiful in fact. It’s impossible for me not to notice and enjoy looking at her no matter how much I remind myself I shouldn’t.

I’d like to say Zoe’s coolness disappeared with our first training session, but that wouldn’t be the case. However, now a week later, the heat between us has morphed into something different. The tension has switched from one of discomfort to one of curiosity and I’ve noticed her eyes appraising me when she thinks I won’t see. The simple moments we’ve spent together have her warming toward me. It’s nice to be in the same room without her sending me distinct fuck off vibes. I wondered if we’d ever get to a comfortable space and now that we have I’m enjoying her company. Anything beats being around a moody teenage girl for forty hours a week. I had enough of that in high school and college.

Her hands deftly brush beaten egg over the tops of the empanadas, before she slides the baking sheet into the oven.

“Phew, that’s hot.” Straightening up, she fans her face with her hand. Her cheeks are flushed pink when she turns my way. “It’ll be about twenty minutes, if you want I can give you a yell when they’re done.”

I kick out the chair next to mine. “Come sit down, take a load off.”

She advances cautiously, as if she’s approaching a wild animal.

“I’m not going to bite you - I just want to talk.”

“Hey, I had to make sure this wasn’t some test as part of my training.” She wipes her palms over her legging encased thighs and I avoid looking. If you look beyond her natural beauty there’s a fragility about her, but underneath the surface she’s as strong as titanium. The contradiction sucks me in like a powerful undertow, but the ten-year age gap between us might as well be one hundred. And I can’t forget it would be unethical to become involved with someone under my watch. Especially someone so vulnerable from the loss of her parents. Looking is one thing but acting on my attraction would be wrong.

She sinks gracefully onto the chair, but her posture is rigid with tension. “What’s up?” she questions, arching her brow.

“Let’s play a game of twenty questions.”

“Are you being serious?”

“Completely. We’re gonna be spending a lot of time together and I want you to feel comfortable when I’m here. Maybe if you get to know me better it will help.”

She runs a hand over her brow and turns to face me, briefly touching my bare arm.

I feel her touch in places I shouldn’t and grit my teeth in reaction.

“I’m sorry I’ve been a jerk to you,” she pauses looking up as if the words she’s searching for can be found on the wall above my head. “Being around men I don’t know makes me nervous.”

“I can see how that would be the case after what you’ve been through.”

“I know you’re here to protect me and I appreciate all the patience you’ve demonstrated. If it’s any consolation I’m glad you’re with me.” She touches my arm again, this time leaving her hand there until I lock eyes with her.

I hesitate for a moment lost in a enthralling sea of blue, before I answer. “Thanks, that does make me feel better. I never want you anxious when I’m around. What can I do to reassure you?” I’ll do whatever you need.

She shrugs. “Things are fine. I guess it just took a little time.”

“Okay then, let’s get started. Ask me a question. At the very least it will keep us occupied until dinner’s ready.”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue. What’s yours?”

“Orange.”

“Orange, really?”

“What’s wrong with it? It’s a happy, hopeful color, full of energy and life.” She’s so animated, her blue eyes sparkle. Watching her, I find myself smiling.

“What’s your favorite dessert?”

“Hmm, that’s a tough one because who doesn’t love dessert?” She taps her lips with her index finger. “Banana cream pie.”

“Do you know how to make one?”

“Of course I do.”

“How would you like to make one soon?” I question, hopeful.

She giggles. “You’re going to put me to work cooking for you? I see how this goes.”

“I figure keeping you safe and training you warrants some kind of payback and banana cream pie works for me. My grandmother used to make them.”

“I’ll have to give you a list of ingredients I’ll need.”

“That’s not a problem.” My taste buds practically salivate at the thought of pie. “What’s your favorite movie?”

“How to Lose a Guy In Ten Days, hands down. Have you seen it?”

“Nope.”

“Ooh, can we watch it tonight?” She presses her palms together in a prayerful pose.

I want to say no, that watching How to Lose a Guy In Ten Days is tops on the long list of things I don’t want to be doing tonight, but her expression is so hopeful, I find myself nodding instead.

“We can?” she shrieks excitedly, her blue eyes twinkling with eagerness. It’s great to see her looking happy.

“Why do I think I’m gonna regret this?”

“What do you think? Was it as bad as you imagined?” Zoe spins to face me from the other end of the couch, bouncing on the cushion excitedly.

“Nope. It was surprisingly good. If I’d known Matthew McConaughey was in it, I would’ve watched it a long time ago. He’s a cool dude, and watching Kate Hudson isn’t exactly a hardship.” I wink.

Zoe rolls her eyes. “My parents and I watched this together more times than I can recall. We’d play bullshit sometimes on the weekends. I’d almost always win. My dad said I had a natural poker face that will serve me well when I’m an agent.”

“Is that what you want to be? You want to follow in your parents’ footsteps?”

“Yes, for as long as I can remember it’s been my plan and losing them only solidifies my desire. I’m determined to work for the FBI as soon as I get my master’s degree from Boston University.”

“Is that where you’re going for your undergrad too?”

“That’s the plan. I had to defer for a semester because of the trial.”

“It’s good you’re focusing on your future. Soon the trial will be behind you and you’ll move on with your life. All this will be a bad memory.”

She scowls at my words. “I’m never going to move on from it. At least not until Popov pays for what he’s done.”

Raking my teeth over my lip, I’m pensive as I study her. I know all too well how sometimes the bad guy slips away unscathed and the retribution you’re looking for never comes about. I hope for Zoe’s sake the situation has a better resolution. Carrying around all that anger and hatred inside of you, takes its toll. It’s like a powder keg waiting to explode.

Today’s the first day I’ve had off in two weeks, but that’s the way my schedule goes sometimes. I love my job, so I deal with it. There are pluses and minuses no matter where you work. Which one of those is Zoe - a plus or a minus?

She’s neither. Or maybe she’s a bit of both?

As an individual she’s a plus - bright, focused and beautiful. Those very same things make her a minus through the huge distraction she’s becoming for me. She trickles into my thoughts much too often and I worry about her when I’m not at the house. Like now. Even though I know she’s in great hands with Agent Smith and the two other agents stationed outside, it’s not the same as me watching out for her myself.

“So, how’s babysitting duty going?” Martin, one of my coworkers asks, raising his voice over the loud chatter inside the pub.

“It hasn’t been too bad. Zoe’s okay, not a lot of drama like I thought she’d be.”

“How old is she?”

“Eighteen.”

“What does she look like?”

My brow quirks at his inquiry. “What does that matter?”

“I’m just curious.” He shrugs, before raising the beer bottle to his lips.

“She looks like a teenager.”

“Hair color?”

“Brown.”

“Long or short?”

“Long.” I shake my head. “Why do you care?”

“I’m just trying to get a visual. Eye color?”

“Blue.”

“So, you’ve noticed.” He smirks, knowingly.

“It’s hard not to notice what color someone’s eyes are when you’re talking to them all the time.”

“So,” he drums his fingertips on the bar. “You guys talk all the time?”

“Don’t be a dick. You know what I mean, and aren’t we trained to notice minute details? I’m just doing my job.”

“I’m just fucking with you, but I did hear she was easy on the eyes.”

“Who said that?” I grit out the words to keep myself from barking them.

“Pete did,” he mentions one of our coworkers. “He was one of the agents assigned to watch over Zoe at her parents’ funeral.”

My chest tightens at the thought of how much Zoe has had to endure and how strong she’s been through it all. No one her age should know so much tragedy or have had to experience it firsthand. I wasn’t at her parents’ service, but I can imagine her putting on a brave front and smiling through her tears. Or maybe she held them in? But anyone who really knew her would see the sadness reflected in her eyes as I’ve grown used to seeing.

Did she put on her overworked poker face I’ve also become accustomed to? Conducting herself like someone much older than her years is what she does best, but sooner or later that façade is bound to crack. Has she really allowed herself to grieve properly? If she has, I haven’t seen it.

“Any word on when the trial will take place?” Martin asks.

“From what I’ve heard, it’ll be in the next month or two. I guess we’ll know soon.”

“How’s Zoe handling the thought of testifying?”

“I’m not sure. She hasn’t mentioned it to me, but maybe she’s spoken to Smith about it. They seem pretty tight.”

He whistles. “Agent Smith, that’s one woman whose bad side I wouldn’t want to be on.”

I grin. “Smith’s great. I’ve worked with her a couple times now and she’s on the ball.”

“I know she is, but she scares me a little.”

Chuckling, I think about how she took my ass down without much effort. Gripping my beer, I bring it to my lips for a deep pull and mull over the predicament I’m in. Zoe Thomas is a complication I can’t afford in my life or my career. I can’t...I won’t jeopardize everything I’ve busted my ass for all these years. If I cross the line with Zoe and people find out, I’ll lose the respect of my peers and never be able to get it back. Pleasure is temporary, but respect is forever. It’s extremely difficult to earn in this field and unfortunately, all too easy to lose.