Pure instinct made her shoot up from her chair and reach into the inside pocket of her leather jacket. She stopped herself short of pulling out the silver blade she was hiding there.

Gabriel broke his stride and came to an abrupt halt, his eyes narrowing instantly. He had perceived her threat.

Not breaking eye contact, she slowly pulled her hand from her jacket, leaving the knife where it was. Even more slowly, she sat back down.

“I’m sorry,” she purred, trying to play down her action. “I get startled easily.”

He nodded before moving back to his own chair and sitting down behind the desk once more.

“Quinn will be here in a few minutes.”

At the sound of his name, a tingling danced down her spine. Only a few more minutes and she would see him again. Would he have the same effect on her as he had then? Would her knees grow weak at the sight of him? Would her stomach turn into a nesting ground for butterflies?

“Why don’t we talk about the assignment in the meantime? I’m afraid you’ve given me very little information so far.”

“It’s a very delicate matter,” she insisted.

“You said that earlier. But we need a little more than that.”

Rose pushed a strand of her long blond hair behind her shoulder. “Doesn’t a million dollars suffice to douse your curiosity? I’m sure you don’t get offered that kind of fee every day.”

“On the contrary, somebody offering that kind of money always arouses my curiosity.”

Gabriel leaned back, giving a relaxed impression, but she wasn’t fooled. Underneath the calm exterior, he was watching her closely. Just as she was watching him.

“I prefer to defer disclosing the details until Quinn is here. I hate having to tell the same story twice.” Besides, the more often she had to tell it, the more likely she would trip up and get caught in her own web of lies.

“As you wish.” Gabriel straightened in his chair, a sign she interpreted as displeasure. “So, how long have you known Quinn?”

“That’s irrelevant.” Her relationship to Quinn wasn’t up for discussion.

“If you do truly know him . . . ” he insinuated. Gabriel leaned forward.

She wouldn’t take the bait. If he wanted to know anything about her and Quinn, he could try his luck with Quinn. Maybe he would be more forthcoming. But she would remain tightlipped. Some things didn’t need to be dredged up again. Her ill-fated relationship with the father of her daughter was one of those things.

It would be hard enough having to see him again.

A sound at the door made her whip her head around.

Oh, God, it would be harder than she thought.

Quinn was as handsome as he’d ever been. His blond hair seemed a shade darker, but maybe it was simply the way the light reflected on it. His hazel eyes appeared more alert and drained of the innocence that had inhabited them so many decades ago. While his body hadn’t aged, she realized that his mind had. There was hardness in him now. The carefree young man she’d known, the one who’d gone off to war to make a name for himself, was gone.

Yet at the same time, he was still the same. Still the man she’d loved so fiercely, with all her heart and soul. The man she’d given her body to more freely than she’d done ever since. The man she’d called husband for one night.

Rose only noticed that she’d risen when she felt her knees wobble and had to reach for the backrest of her chair to steady herself. Had Quinn noticed? Had he seen her weakness?

She searched his eyes, looking for a sign of what was going on inside him. Did he feel what she felt?

She wanted to turn away, wanted to hide from him, from the feelings that welled up in his presence. But turning away would expose her even more. She couldn’t allow him to detect her vulnerability.

She opened her lips, wanting to issue a greeting, something business like, but her dry throat was incapable of producing a single sound.

The silence was suffocating, and she yanked at the collar of her thin turtleneck top. The heat in the room was suddenly stifling, the air thick with unspoken words, the atmosphere laden with memories.

“Rose . . . ”

Her gaze locked with his, and the room and their host melted into the background. Hesitant steps brought her closer to him, while he too moved toward her as if pulled by invisible strings.

For a moment she allowed herself to fall, to take in his scent, his presence. And for an instant of weakness, she wished it could be different, that she could be honest with him, tell him the truth. Confess everything.

When his hand came up to her face, she leaned in. She wanted his touch, craved it. When his fingertips connected with her cheek, she lowered her lids and took a breath. She didn’t release it, because it would have come out as a sob.