CHAPTER FIVE

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Juliet, before she'd lost Carlton, had a number of daydreams about what it would be like to do exactly what she was doing now: kissing the hell out of him.

Her daydreams had been pretty accurate.

Settling against his lean body as his arms wound around her, she welcomed his return kiss, savoring the feel of his lips and tongue against hers.

She was pretty sure she was making some soft noises akin to moans, if not whimpers, and his breathing was ragged.

His hands slid up her back, pulling her closer, and her thighs tightened over his.

Just so delicious, he was. Warm, electric, hers.

He sighed out her name, his lips moving against her cheek, his beard a pleasing friction she wouldn't mind feeling elsewhere on her body, preferably nude.

Just. So. Delicious.

Now those hands slid back downward, cupping her ass, scooping her ever closer, and she was completely ready to dispense with every pesky fabric barrier between them. But she could also have stayed just like that: close and warm and connected, thrilled to be with him—he who had been lost to her forever.

But in the next second, he pulled back and grasped her shoulders to set her away from him.

"Wait," he managed.

She caressed his face, already missing his kiss.

"We've waited long enough, honey," she murmured, leaning in and stealing one more kiss before he again pushed her back.

"Wait." His tone was more insistent, and his crystal blue eyes showed turmoil. "It's barely been an hour."

For a moment she had no idea what he meant... an hour? Like... wait an hour after eating before you go swimming?

"You can't be sure of anything," he tried again.

Juliet sat up, understanding now. "Yes, I can." To her, nothing was clearer.

"An hour. We've been apart five years." He was earnest. "We don't know anything about each other anymore. You can't be sure I'm even someone you like. Lots of people didn't like me before, remember?"

She shook her head. "More people liked you than you knew, and so what? That was a different life, but you're still the same fundamental you."

"How do you know?" he persisted. "After an hour, how do you know?"

"Well... how do you know I'm someone you like?"

He gave her a wry look. "Well, apart from you being damn near a goddess in any life, that's my point." Urging her off his lap—and she really didn't want to get off his lap—he moved to the opposite end of the sofa, where he ran his hands through his hair restlessly. "I've had a lot of time for self-analysis since I became John Ellery. Since I settled here I forced myself to consider what it would take... what I would have to do... to be someone a woman would find... worthy."

Juliet was appalled. "I find you worthy. You're worthy. Why would you think you weren't?"

He gave her that patented Lassiter Look. "Exhibit A: my romantic history."

"You chose the wrong women," she countered. "You chose idiot women, that's all."

His grin was crooked. "Maybe so, but even idiot women weren't lining up outside my door."

"They should have been. You're a babe." He was, too—the beautiful blue eyes, the lean grace, the smoky voice, the… she forced her mind back to the conversation.

Even under the beard, his blush was unmistakable. "You're biased."

"Am not," she retorted. "I thought so from my first day on the job. If I hadn't wanted to kill you so often, I'd have been hung up on you a lot sooner."

Carlton cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. "Be that as it may, we're a decade down the road and what I'm trying to say is that this reunion of ours hasn't exactly filled either of us in on who we are now. What if you realize, two months from now—or six—that I'm a pompous, boring stick-in-the-mud ass?"

She was at a loss. In principle he was correct, but she also knew he was wrong. The years they spent together, one-on-one, had shown her who he was, and having a new name and a new look didn't mean he also had a new personality.

"Then that's who I love," she said simply.

His gaze was uncertain, but steady. "You love a memory."

"Then so do you." She stood up and crossed to his end of the sofa, kneeling on the floor in front of him. "We'll have to make new memories. We'll date."

He drew back, surprised. "Date?"

"Yes. You can even tell me the dead clown story."

This earned his laughter, and he rubbed his face for a moment. "Date."

"Are you saying you don't want to date me? I'm told I'm quite date-able." She smirked. "Plus I'm new in town. You could show me around."

"Oh, you're date-able, all right," he assured her, and reached out to pull her closer to him. "Your taste in men is weird, though." He cupped her face and kissed her, and Juliet felt decidedly swoony.

Such a good kisser, she thought dreamily.

But once again he pulled back. "Why are you single?"

Juliet tried to focus. "Why am I single? Why are you?"

"We just covered that. But you—you're beautiful, desirable, smart, funny. It's been five years. Why are you single?"

She got up and sat next to him, clasping his hand because not touching him seemed ludicrous. "I don't know how to answer that."

Carlton frowned. "Sure you do."

"Well... I don't know how to make it not sound..." She sighed. "At first I was in mourning. Until a few days ago when I started alternating between happiness and homicidal urges, I was still in mourning."

"Five years," he said softly. "For me?" He seemed genuinely flummoxed by this, because he could never see his own value.

With another sigh, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Yes," she whispered back. "For you. You were just too enormous a part of my life. I didn't think I'd ever get my balance back."

His blue eyes showed that turmoil again. "That's how I felt. Knowing you were out there helped, though. I knew I could never see you or talk to you, but because you were out there, the world was better."

Juliet felt misty again, and slid closer, to rest her head on his shoulder. "But for me, you were gone. And I couldn't trust my judgment, because I'd made such bad choices before. Shawn, the narcissist and fraud. Declan Rand, another fraud."

"He was a nice fraud, though," he pointed out.

"True, but that makes it worse. I fell for the nice and missed the glaring truth—and remember, I became a cop in part because of my con artist father, so that was just embarrassing. Then there was Cameron Luntz, who, I'll admit, kinda reminded me of you—" She laughed at his small sound of indignation. "Because he was mature and professional and confident in his abilities. The downside was his arrogance and, you know, he was a little bit narcissistic too. I just had this string of boyfriends who weren't right for me, and there you were the whole time."

He stroked her arm. "There were good reasons for us not to get involved."

"I know, but the point is... after you, I couldn't be sure of any man because I couldn't be sure of myself. I'd meet a guy and think, 'he's no Carlton.' So I figured if I ever met anyone who could make me think 'he's no Carlton, but let's give it a try' then okay, I'd give it a try." She lifted her head and smiled at him. "Never did meet him."

He smiled back.

"Plus, I'll admit, I never let myself stay anywhere very long. This is my sixth assignment since I joined the NPS. I've volunteered for every open slot because I didn't want to get comfortable anywhere."

Now he frowned. "But you... you like people. You like to be social. That was just making it harder on yourself."

"Maybe, but being social wasn't what I wanted anymore. Or what I needed. This, honestly, has been the first place I've worked where I thought about staying longer. About settling for a while."

"I'm glad," he murmured. "Not just for me but because that sounds more like you."

She nuzzled his jaw and felt him shiver, more so when she traced his earlobe with her fingers and pressed herself ever closer to his warm body. "So what do you say, John? Can we date? And do we have to date before we make love, or can we make love right now?"

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An all-over body shiver is what he felt at her words.

Can we make love right now? On the surface, such a simple question.

But this was not a simple situation. They weren't just former partners who met up after a long time. They were people who were not supposed to be together: the man she knew was supposed to be dead, and the woman he knew he was supposed to have no contact with, ever.

If anyone from their pasts saw them together, there would be nothing short of hell to pay.

Juliet was waiting, but she wasn't idle; she was still stroking his face and moving her body subtly against his, awaking every nerve ending.

He kept hearing his own statement in his head: it's only been an hour.

An hour together after five long years apart. Five years with zero expectation of any reunion.

She'd started out with fury and tears and was now purring in his arms and while it was a marvelous feeling to be close to her—it was a marvelous feeling to even be in the same room with her—some things needed more analysis.

Besides, if he took her to bed now they probably wouldn't exit the bedroom again for a week, and she presumably had a job to go to. Technically, so did he—except his was here in the cabin.

He caressed her jaw, tilting her head to kiss her, tracing her lips with his tongue, loving how she tasted and sighed and moved against him. Every past imagining come true.

But then he put distance between them.

"We date," he said, more or less firmly. "And I have to talk to Donovan."

"I hate that answer."

"I hate it too."

She sat next to him, grumpy, which almost made her more irresistible, but he knew better than to make that observation. "What's he going to do anyway?"

Good question.

"I mean, really? Is he going to make you disappear again?"

He thought about it, and what he knew of his employers, and shook his head. "Costs money. I wasn't a high-level operative."

"Then what? Is he going to have me killed? Or you?"

"If he takes you out, he'll have to take me out too," he said grimly.

She patted his thigh. "Back at ya. How about we just take him out? And 'disappear' ourselves?"

He wasn't sure why that made him laugh, but it did. "I'm way too old to go on the run for the rest of my life."

"Would you go on the run with me?" she challenged him.

"Hell yeah, but how about we don't? The nice thing about not going on the run is the little stuff, like pensions and health insurance."

Juliet laughed. "Now that's romantic."

"I warned you, didn't I?"

"You did," she admitted, still laughing, "but come on, that's something you would have said back then. And I can't even say you're wrong. Look, let's compromise, okay? Give me a few days to woo you before you call him."

"Woo me?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Do I need to explain wooing?"

"No, you don't need to explain wooing. It's just redundant. You already have me."

"Uh, not exactly. I'm sitting next to you, not in your lap, we're both fully dressed, and you want to date me before you do me. I think I might need to do some wooing."

"Maybe you're right," he said soberly. "After all, you did start out by punching me in the face."

Juliet smiled. "I can only offer to kiss it until it feels better."

She was short-circuiting his ability to think clearly. He stood up, unsteadier than he should have been, and while ignoring her sound of protest, crossed to the chair on the opposite side of the room.

"Juliet, look. You get what I'm saying, right?"

"Yes." Matter-of-fact.

"A few days ago you thought I was dead. When you showed up here you were furious, and in the very short time since then, you've run the whole gamut of emotions."

"Yes." Still matter-of-fact. Still somehow making him want her.

He wrested himself under control. "So you agree I'm right that you should think about—"

She interrupted. "I'm not agreeing you're right about anything. What I am thinking about is this. I agree you have to tell Donovan about me because if he finds out on his own, the consequences are likely to be a lot more severe than if Vick had found out we were dating. I mean, I was terrified she could tell how I felt about you when you were alive, and I was with Shawn then. But we're here now. Together. By chance. That means something, Carlton, and I do mean Carlton."

He couldn't help but think she was right, and he was not prone to fits of fancy.

Juliet smiled, a bit tremulously. "What are the odds? I mean, my God, what are the odds? Two Santa Barbara ex-cops winding up in the same little town in Virginia? There's chance, and then there's fate... or God... or... meant-to-be. Call it what you want."

The hand of God seemed like a good choice, as far as he could tell.

She went on, "Donovan can try to relocate you—and you know I'll spend my life looking for you—or he can try to relocate me, and I know you'll spend your life looking for me."

"Damn straight," he muttered, and she smiled again, all too briefly.

"Or he can separate us permanently."

His heart clenched. Surely Donovan wouldn't think either of them was worth the trouble, though it would certainly be quick, simple and cost-effective, which had always been the man's preference.

Juliet nodded at his implicit acceptance of her statement. "In any of those scenarios, I feel what I said before. We've waited long enough. We need to come full circle. This isn't about sex. This is about love, and connection, and completion."

He looked at her, and she looked at him. The cabin was quiet, and his mind was quiet, and once in a while, his heart gave wise advice.

"How did you get here?"

She blinked. "I parked on the shoulder, up the road."

"Go get your car," he said. "Park next to mine behind the cabin."

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She walked briskly, happily, the fall breeze rejuvenating against her skin.

Gravel crunched beneath her shoes and birds sang overhead in the pines, and Carlton was alive and loved her and would soon be her lover.

And even if this was the only time they ever had together, and even if they were clumsy and awkward and it ranked a -2 on the First Time scale, it would be the best day of her life because he was alive and loved her.

What she'd told him was true: this wasn't about sex. Didn't mean she wasn't going to rip his clothes off as soon as that bedroom door closed. Didn't mean she might not have to sew some of her own clothes back together before she went home again.

This was about need. About completion. About them.

At the door, he'd kissed her. It was a long, slow, deep and loving kiss which took her breath away and made her feel weak, and the Mediterranean blue of his eyes was enticing and steady and showed her exactly how he felt.

There would be carnage in the bedroom.

And who was she kidding… this was going to be at least a 50 on the First Time scale.

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Carlton collected the saw and put it away securely in the shed behind the cabin, then tidied the kitchen and made sure his bedroom was presentable.

He locked up and washed up and sat for a minute on the back porch, cane in hand, marveling at the day.

Simple little bit of porch-work. Maybe catch up on some profiling. He had a new biography of Frederick Douglass to read. It was going to be a quiet Saturday. Sunday he'd planned to go into town for lunch at the Mandolin.

But then... Juliet.

And nothing would ever be the same again.

And nothing could ever be the same again.

Before him, pine trees filled the horizon. He got pretty good sunsets from this angle, and was surprised sometimes at how much he'd learned to sit and enjoy the peace. In his previous life, quiet times were hours wasted: there was crime to solve.

Truthfully, quiet times were times he might have to deal with understanding he had no life beyond the job, so he might as well do more work.

This life—this gift life—he appreciated more.

Juliet, driving a green Jeep, pulled in next to his SUV, and she got out, all lithe grace.

Smiling as she approached, she somehow warmed and enticed him, and when she took the two steps up onto the porch she bent to cup his face and kiss him, her soft lips insistent and delicious.

He stood up and held her close for a moment, and then led her inside, locking the door behind them.

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