38
LARA
One Day Later: Friday Night
“’Night, Lara. See you tomorrow.”
I glance up from the filing cabinet and wave goodbye to Greg, one of the other analysts. “Have a good night.”
I drop the rest of the files into their appropriate folders and head back to my desk.
My cubicle at the SEC was practically a mansion in comparison to the one I have here. The office lighting makes my hair look green, the coffee has a distinctly metallic taste, my desk smells like someone else’s curry, and my chair has never even heard the phrase ergonomically correct. But . . . I love it.
I love it because it’s in the FBI building.
I’ll confess I was terrified it’d be a letdown. But I knew from the second I stepped through the front doors that it was right.
Or at least the right direction of right.
I’m still learning my way around, still learning who’s who, what’s what, who’s helpful, and who will bite my head off when I ask a question. I almost love those interactions the most. I love telling myself that when I’m in that position of power, I’m going to be nice to the new kid.
And I am going to be in that position of power one day. I know it.
“Crap,” I mutter, glancing at the clock. I’m supposed to meet my parents for dinner in fifteen minutes. The restaurant’s nearby, but traffic is brutal.
Eventually I’ll embrace the DC Metro system, but for now, I can only afford to live forty-five minutes from work and not particularly near any of the lines. My dad lent me his old car, and even with the constant maintenance on the damn thing, it’s the easiest option.
I’m rushed for time, but I still take the long way to the elevator—the one that goes by the white-collar department. About half the agents are still in their offices. Agent Powers even lifts her hand in a friendly wave as I go by.
Someday. Someday one of these offices will be mine.
You see? I’m happy.
Well, I’m mostly happy.
A little sliver (okay, fine, a big sliver) misses Ian. A lot. I naively thought that it was just a proximity thing with him—that we had come together so fast, in such weird circumstances, that we’d gotten wrapped up in the idea of the romance rather than the romance itself.
Three weeks later?
I don’t know. Three weeks later, it still feels like what we had was real.
He’s called a couple of times, but I just . . . I can’t. Not yet.
It’s late enough in the evening that I have the building mostly to myself, so when I get off on my level of the parking garage, I’m able to do that awkward run/speed walk to my car without any witnesses.
Or not.
My footsteps slow as I approach my car. There’s a man leaning against it, casual-like, feet crossed at the ankles.
Every woman’s worst nightmare, right? Woman alone, dark parking lot, strange man.
Except he’s not a strange man.
He’s a familiar man in a really good suit. I hate to say it, but I miss Wall Street suits. The FBI does not give good suit.
Ian watches as I approach, arms crossed over his chest, bouquet of roses dangling from one hand.
“Ian?”
“She remembers my name. Good start.” He flicks the flowers up and glances down at them. “I wanted to bring an orchid, but rumor has it they don’t travel well. Kennedy and Matt assured me these are a solid substitute.”
I smile and take them. “Tell Kennedy and Matt I’m impressed. I’m a fan of the classics.”
“Thought you might be.” He studies me. “How are you?”
I take a deep breath. Let it out. “I’m . . . confused. What are you doing here?”
He smiles and straightens. “We’ll get to that. Tell me about your job first. Is it everything you dreamed of?”
I nod enthusiastically. “Yes. Absolutely. I mean, it’s a lot of busywork but so fascinating. Today they asked me to revisit this cold case, and . . . well, I can’t tell you about it, but the perp reminds me of you, and—”
He laughs. “The perp, huh? Maybe I should have brought two dozen roses.”
I roll my eyes and smile. “You know what I mean. Too charming for his own good, great with the ladies.”
“Hmm.” He reaches out and grabs my hand, pulling me in. “You know this perp may have gotten it wrong. Turns out being great with the ladies isn’t where it’s at.”
“No?”
“Nope. The smart ones zero in on one lady. Make her theirs.”
“I see,” I say, my heart pounding as I struggle to keep my voice playful. “However do they accomplish this? Bash her over the head with a stick and drag her back to the cave?”
“It’s a thought. But I was thinking something more like . . .”
He reaches into his breast pocket.
Oh God! Oh God, he wouldn’t. We are so not ready for that. I can’t marry a man I barely know.
He pulls out . . . an envelope.
I don’t know if I’m relieved or disappointed. Maybe a little of both.
He hands it to me.
I struggle to juggle the flowers, my purse, laptop bag, and envelope, so he takes my keys from my hand and relieves me of everything but the envelope.
I give him a curious look as I pull out . . . plane tickets. Lots of plane tickets.
The first one is a flight for next weekend—DC to New York.
The next is for the weekend after that—New York to DC.
I flip through the rest of them. There are three months’ worth of plane tickets, alternating between New York and DC.
Between his city and mine.
“Ian?”
He lifts his eyebrows. “What do you say? Do long-distance with me?”
“Ian . . .” It’s a sigh this time.
He reaches out and slides an arm around my back, the other cupping my neck, his thumb brushing along my jaw as though memorizing the shape. “I miss you, Lara. I miss you like crazy. I get you have to be here, and I have to be there. Though, for the record, I did contemplate the very impressive gesture of quitting my job and moving here. But I didn’t think you’d respect me for it.”
I shake my head. “You’re supposed to be rich.”
He laughs, and the sound makes my heart swell. “Damn straight. But I’m also supposed to be with you.”
Ian touches his mouth lightly to mine, and when he pulls back to look down at me, his eyes are warm. “You thought I was going to whip out a ring, didn’t you?”
I let out an embarrassed laugh. “Sort of.”
He kisses me again, smiling against my mouth. “I thought about that grand gesture, too, but figured I’d better court you first.”
I pull back. “Court me? Did you steal that from Kennedy’s vocabulary—Wait. You thought about it? You thought about giving me a ring?” I nearly shriek.
He gives a little shrug. “It crossed my mind. After I realized I loved you.”
My knees buckle, but he catches me.
“That was embarrassing for you,” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “Give me a break. The guy I love surprised me with red roses, plane tickets, and vague chatter about marriage.”
His eyes go bright. “The guy you love, huh?”
I tap the corner of the envelope to his chest. “Turns out I’m very impractical when it comes to you. You had me falling head over heels in love with you in just a few weeks.”
“Just imagine what I can do in a few months,” he says, wrapping both arms around me and lifting me off the ground.
I laugh and lower my mouth to his. “I can’t wait to find out.”