was a rationalization, of course. He also wanted to have sex with her; he could be honest with himself about that much.
Sitting back, he pulled the laptop toward him, starting to study the files, and waited for the phone to ring. He had no doubt that it would.
DELLA SLOWED HER PACE as she approached the restaurant where she was meeting Gabe Ross. She’d been shocked when she’d opened her bag and realized it wasn’t hers. Especially when she’d discovered the stack of papers with the Homeland Security letterhead and his badge inside. She’d closed it as quickly as possible, calling him immediately.
She’d been so flustered on the plane that she’d clearly grabbed the wrong bag.
Still, she thought with a smile playing around her lips, it had resulted in her seeing Gabe again. It had taken every ounce of nerve to call him after discovering the mistake and finding his contact information on the luggage tag.
As she approached the small café with tables on the sidewalk under a charming dark red canopy, she heard her name called and looked up to see Gabe standing by the door.
Della walked quickly toward him, seeing that he had her case as well.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, grimacing. “I could have had this sent to you, instead of dragging you all the way up here.”
He smiled, taking his case as he handed her hers. “This is much better. I wouldn’t have wanted the case in unfamiliar hands.”
“Oh, yes, I—” she said, dropping her eyes down, then meeting his again. “I didn’t look through your things, of course, but I did open it and saw you work for the government. I promise I only saw the letterhead and your badge and then closed it right away.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. “Your things should be intact. I didn’t know we’d switched until you called.”
Then one of the waiters, Gianni, appeared, smiling in her direction.
“Ciao, Gianni. Come stai? Avete una tavola libera?”
“Ho sempre una tavolo per voi, bella,” Gianni said fondly, grabbing menus and leading them to a table on the patio.
Gabe looked at her. “You speak Italian, too?”
“Not as well as I’d like to. I have a chance to go to Italy as a visiting lecturer this fall, but I haven’t made up my mind yet. So I practice when I can.”
“Grazie, Gianni,” she said, smiling at the older man. “This is Gabe.”
“Nice to meet you, Gabe,” the waiter said, and Della almost had to chuckle at how Gianni smiled, but his eyes narrowed on Gabe as he took their drink orders.
“A close friend?” Gabe inquired when Gianni disappeared back inside.
“I tutored his youngest daughter so she could improve her math scores for college, and I wrote her a recommendation. I spent several evenings at their home, and here at the restaurant, teaching her, so I did get to be friends with the family. They are a lovely group.”
“Did she end up getting into the school she wanted?”
“She did. Full scholarship to Cornell in veterinary science.” Della smiled, proud of her friend, and that she could help.
“Did you grow up here, in the city?” Gabe asked.
“No, I was born in Connecticut, and I spent a good deal of my teenage years in Boston.”
She stopped there, not elaborating that she had spent her teenage years in Massachusetts because she had been admitted to Harvard when she was fifteen. She’d finished her first PhD by the time she was twenty, and then a second at twenty-four.
“When did you start working at Columbia?”
“About eight years ago. New York is home now. I can’t imagine being anywhere else.”
“But you travel a lot?”
“I do. I do work as a consultant on several government and private-sector projects in addition to teaching, and I visit universities in different countries. It’s a great excuse to travel.” She paused as Gianni delivered their wine and took their orders, then turned the discussion away from herself. “So, you work for DHS? That has to be exciting.”
“Actually, most of my work is at my desk. I do a lot of strategic analysis, that kind of thing. Writing analyst reports and giving advice on operations.”
“Oh, I love logisitics!” Della said enthusiastically, and then bit her lip.
“What’s the matter?” he asked.
“Oh, I know I can get geeky about things like that, you know, it can put people off.”
To her surprise, he frowned, and then reached over to touch her hand, which rested on the table by her wineglass.
“You shouldn’t hold back when you’re excited about something,” he said, staring into her eyes so intently that she couldn’t look away.
She also wondered for a second if he knew how excited she was about being here with him—and how he was touching her hand.
Then she chastised herself for making the same mistake she’d made on the plane, being too hopeful. This was just a dinner, and he was only being nice. He wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the bag switch.
“Thank you,” she said, gently disentangling her hand from his—or trying. When she pulled away, he curled his fingers around hers, and squeezed. Then he let go.
Oh my.
“Besides, it’s not every day someone finds my work interesting, either. They imagine feds are always busting down doors or hauling in bad guys, but for me, it’s a lot of paperwork. Which is fine. I had enough action in the army.”
“You served?”
“Ten years, four tours to Iraq and Afghanistan.”
Della watched his features change as he talked, how his smile faded and his eyes became shadowed.
“And you came home and joined DHS?”
“I actually went back to college first, something I hadn’t had the time to do back before I joined the military. But school wasn’t my thing—never really was. My military experience was more valuable, for DHS, anyway. So I talked to some contacts, and that was where I ended up five years ago.”
“What were you studying in school? Where did you go?”
“Virginia Tech. I thought I’d do something with IT, but it wasn’t where my strengths were.”
“So you live in Virginia?”
“Well, D.C. now.”
She
