Page 110 of A Shot at Love
She worked on her computer, editing photographs and e-mailing clients without stopping until late afternoon.
Just as she was finishing up and about to make something to fill her growling and insistent stomach, the doorbell chimed.
Without first looking through the peep hole or asking who it was, she pulled the door open and gasped.
“Ky!”
He looked…wonderful. Exhausted, but wonderful. About three days’ worth of amber, honey-blond stubble lined his jaw, dark, half-moon shaped blotches circled under his eyes, and it looked as if he’d been wearing the same clothes for a while. He leaned against the doorframe, as if he needed it to keep him upright. Gemma wanted to wrap her arms around him and cuddle away all the pain and weariness she saw in his eyes and on his face. Then, in the next breath she remembered she was mad and wanted to punch him for not getting in touch with her.
“What are you doing here?”
“Can I come in?” he asked. Even his voice sounded close to the edge of collapse.
Gemma pulled the door open wide. He let out a breath, placed his jacket over his forearm, and entered.
“Thanks,” he said when she shut it behind her. “I wasn’t sure you’d be home. I took a chance without calling or texting first. I hoped,” he shook his head, “I hoped you’d be here.”
She led him into the living room.
“This is nice,” he said absently, glancing around, his eyes tired but alert. “I wasn’t paying attention the last time I was here.”
The day she’d been attacked. The day they’d met.
Lord! Was it really just two weeks ago?
“Would you like something to drink? Or eat?” she asked. “I was just going to fix myself something.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a beer if you have one.”
“I do. Sit.” She pointed to the sofa. “You look about ready to drop.”
He nodded. While she went into the kitchen to get them drinks she heard him settle down and sigh.
Her heart stuttered at the bone-weary fatigue in the sound.
She laid a hand across the quivering muscles in her stomach and set about making him a sandwich.
“Here.” She handed him the beer she’d poured into a glass and set down the small plate with the ham and cheese she made on the cocktail table, and then sat down on the opposite side of the sofa.
“Thanks.”
He took a long draught, tipping his head back as he drank.
Such a profound craving to reach out and run her mouth along his exposed jaw and neck pounded through her, she squirmed in her seat and settled her butt firmly into the cushion so she’d stay put.
When he leaned forward again, his gaze shot to her.
“How are you doing since you’ve been home?”
She shrugged. “Fine. Busy. Getting my life back in order again.”
“No nightmares, trouble sleeping? No anxiety about what happened?”
“None.” She mentally crossed her fingers against the fib.
Ky nodded. “Jon told me you gave your taped deposition. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for it. For you.”
Her heart gave a little shudder at his words. She bit down on the inside of her cheek before she asked, “How about you? Is the investigation closed now? Officially?”
“Almost. I’ve been tied up with the director and attorney general. I just got off the plane about an hour ago. I haven’t even been back to my apartment yet.”
So he’d come directly to her. Interesting.
“Was it bad?”
“It wasn’t good.” He blew out a breath. “The attorney general went on a rampage when he was told Ritandi was dead. He blames me.”
“That’s ridiculous. I’d think he’d be happy the man was brought to justice, no matter how it was accomplished.”
Ky shook his head absently and took another drink of his beer. “He wants answers to questions and now he can’t get them. With Ritandi dead we can’t find out much more about his organization. There’s still stuff we haven’t been able to tie to him to, and now it looks like we won’t be able to. And then there are the millions of questions about Tiege. How did Ritandi get to him? What was the leverage? Is anyone else involved? It’s been a nightmare. My tech guys have been combing through Tiege’s home and office computers since we got back.”
