He tried to keep his voice low and his temper in check. ‘What do you want from me? A confession that I have regrets? Yeah, I do. Would I have gone about things differently if I’d known some of the things that I know now? Yes. But what’s done is done and I sleep better for it.’
‘I don’t think you sleep much at all.’
She was too observant.
‘I didn’t kill them. That was never my intent. Intent is important.’ It was all he had left. ‘What’s your background, Rowan? Why do you sit in a director’s chair? What’s your intent?’
‘How about you call me Director?’
‘In a workplace situation that requires it, I solemnly swear that I will never call you anything else.’
‘You really are used to getting your own way, aren’t you?’
‘Firstborn child,’ he murmured. ‘It’s in my file. What about you? Any brothers or sisters?’
‘No. My parents were diplomats—children really didn’t fit their career plans, so they made do with one. I was raised by my grandfather. He was an Army general.’
‘How’d you get your director’s chair?’
‘Drive, forward-planning and connections. I decided I wanted to run my own covert operations team when I was fifteen.’
‘If I told you that I joined the secret intelligence service with all the forethought of an adrenalin junkie in need of his next fix would you smack me?’
‘Yes. Please tell me you planned at least some of this?’
Jared grinned at her censure. She was a strategist—no question. His skills ran more to being pointed in the right direction and doing what was needed. He’d had no problem with his approach whatsoever at first. Right up until he’d realised that he no longer had complete trust in the people doing the pointing. And then life had got increasingly difficult.
‘You could smack me. We’ll see how we go. I might even like it.’
‘The way I read it, you have a certain innate …’
‘Charm?’
‘Cunning,’ she corrected. ‘A wariness that stems from your lack of trust in others. And you have no small amount of luck. You’re tenacious and a natural-born leader. Corbin has a vacant sub-director’s chair. He’s put you up for consideration.’
Jared set his coffee down abruptly. ‘What are my chances of getting it?’
‘Corbin’s pushing hard. A few of the other directors have questioned your maturity and your ability to plan ahead. No one’s blocked you outright yet. That’s down to Corbin’s political clout, by the way—not yours. You’ve done no political manoeuvring whatsoever for over two years.’
‘Been a little busy elsewhere …’
‘We know.’ Rowan watched him steadily. ‘Do you want it?’
The pancakes were ready. He fished two plates from the cupboard, loaded hers up and took it to the counter. He pushed the sugar bowl towards her and swiftly quartered a couple of lemons. He added more butter to the pan. More pancake mix.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’
‘If I’d known this was a job interview I’d have worn a shirt.’
She let her gaze drop to his chest, but it was hard to tell whether she was admiring his physique or cataloguing the bruises on it.
‘You could always put one on now.’
‘How do you sleep?’ he asked abruptly. ‘How do you smile when people go down and don’t get up and it was your call that put them there?’
‘You’re talking about your sister getting shot?’
‘I’m talking about dead men and belief. How do you know that you’re doing the right thing? How do you know when you’ve chosen the lesser of two evils?’
‘Intel helps.’
There was a hint of sorrow in her words that commanded his attention.
‘Arrogance helps. You have to want to take control and believe that you’re the best-equipped person to do so.’
‘Maybe I did believe that I was the person best equipped to take down Antonov two years ago,’ he offered raggedly. ‘The one with the most determination. The one with the burning desire to do so. Not sure I believe it now.’
He’d opened up to her this much—he might as well let her see the rest of it.
‘I can’t settle. I don’t sleep. I feel like I’m peeling out of my own skin half the time. I came back for the wedding. I forced things into play so that I could be home in time for that. I’ve left loose threads that I need to go back and tie up and now you want to put me in a manager’s chair? I can’t do it. I don’t belong in a chair. I’m no manager and I can’t stand paperwork. All I want to do is clean up my mess.’
‘And how would you do that?’
‘I need to know what’s happening with Celik—Antonov’s kid. I promised him he’d be okay. I need to get to Belarus and put something in play there that might lead us to the last of Antonov’s moles within ASIS. I need to get to the families of the other two dead men and see how they’re situated. I need to finish this so I can sleep.’
‘You came back too soon.’
‘I had to.’
‘You put family first.’
‘I always will. You can’t be too surprised by that. It’s all I’ve ever done.’
He turned the burner off, took hold of the skillet and tipped the pancakes onto his plate. He sat down opposite where she’d been sitting and reached for the sugar.
He ignored her when she slipped in between him and the corner of the kitchen bench, one elbow on the bench as she studied him intently.
Had she squeezed in between him and another person at a bar, in an effort to get served, he wouldn’t have thought anything of her proximity. But there was a lot of room at this breakfast bar and she wasn’t currently using any of it.
‘What are you doing?’ he asked warily.
‘May I try something?’
‘I don’t know whether to say yes or no.’
She reached out and slid the back of her hand up his cheek and towards his temple … a soft caress that made his breath hitch and his body stiffen against the utter pleasure of it. Her hand didn’t stop there and soon her fingers were in his hair, scraping gently across his scalp, making his eyes close and his body tremble.
‘You’re
