Her Secret Agent Man by Cindy Dees

traversed an arcing fissure down the mountain face. Long shadows striped it in patches of darkness and light. This trail was quite a bit more difficult than the last one, and she paid close attention to her skiing.
    In front of her, Dutch called out, “Follow me.”
    Oh, Lord. Had he seen something she hadn’t? A threat of some kind? Adrenaline shot through her, and her knees went weak. He veered off to the left and she followed him into a side ravine. The trail was barely wider than a single pair of skis, and snow-laden boughs brushed her shoulders. The dim tunnel of trees went on for several minutes. Abruptly, they popped out into a wide clearing. It housed a large, log structure and a nearly full parking lot of cars. They skied up to the building’s double front doors.
    “Hungry?” he asked.
    It was a restaurant! “Famished,” she replied enthusiastically. They checked their ski equipment and slipped on felt slippers provided by the restaurant. She padded to their table, a booth, actually, with Dutch.
    She slid into her seat, vividly aware of how he completely filled the intimate space. “How did you know about this place?” she asked.
    He smiled at her, robbing her of breath. “Like it?”
    “If the food matches the decor, I’m going to love it!” The rough, log cabin-style interior, complete with antlers and old-fashioned snowshoes on the walls, belied the understated elegance of the crystal stemware and fine china on the tables. The menu confirmed the gourmet underpinnings of the place. She ordered a stuffed shoulder of veal while Dutch chose the roasted free-range pheasant.
    “So, do you vacation here often?”
    He shrugged. “Haven’t had a day off in five years. Until this week, of course.”
    “Five years?” She tsked. “Is the world that unsafe for democracy or are you just a workaholic?”
    He laughed aloud. The sound was rusty, as if he didn’t make it often. “A little bit of both, I suppose. Since I’m unattached, I take extra missions so the married guys can get a little more time with their families.”
    No surprise there. Since they seemed to be operating under a temporary truce, she asked a question she’d been curious about for years. “Why do you do this job?”
    “Because I like it.”
    How could anybody like the stress and danger of being a Special Forces operative? She prodded, “What’s your favorite part?”
    He answered without the slightest hesitation. “Saving the lives of innocents.”
    “Do you do that often?” she asked, surprised.
    “Often enough to keep me coming back for more.”
    She’d never thought about Charlie Squad as a rescue outfit before. She’d always thought of them as more of a death squad. But maybe that was because she’d been working with the criminals.
    He startled her by asking a question of his own. “When are you going to trust me and tell me what you’re hiding?”
    Trust him? Now, there was a novel concept. She already trusted him enough to put her life in his hands. For now. Wasn’t that enough?
    Apparently not, the way his blue gaze was boring into her.
    “I do trust you. It’s just that—”
    She broke off as he pinned her with yet another piercing stare. Okay. So she didn’t trust him that much.
    He snapped his napkin off the table and unfolded it deliberately in his lap.
    She asked in a rush, “Do you have any idea why I triggered your blackout?”
    “Do you?” he challenged. Again that saber-sharp, sapphire stare.
    Guilt slammed into her. It probably had something to do with that disastrous ambush ten years ago when her father almost managed to wipe out Charlie Squad. That had been the first time her father had threatened to kill Carina if Julia didn’t do his bidding. She’d hated setting up the Americans, but she’d had no choice. No choice at all. The hard edge faded from his gaze and she blinked, startled. He was afraid of his blackout. As tough as he pretended to be, as in control as he usually was, he was scared.