Barefoot with a Stranger (Barefoot Bay Undercover #2)(92)

“Too late, Harris.”

No, it wasn’t. “Don’t lose hope,” he whispered to her. “We got this.”

“We sure do,” she said.

He searched her face, his expression slowly changing from dread and uncertainty to a slow, warm grin. “You did it.” Not a question, she noticed.

“Not bad for a rookie, huh?”

He inched closer, the noise of the soldiers, alarms, and the world that seemed lined up against them fading into the background as he held her gaze.

“Francesca,” he whispered. “I love you.”

The words stunned her. Maybe they were spoken in the craziness of the moment, but they sounded so completely right. She resisted the urge to say them back, knowing she’d have time. Maybe a lifetime.





Chapter Thirty-one





Sleep faded easily, pulling Chessie from a dream about the Ramos School. A little girl ran around her in circles, laughing and calling Chessie Mamá.

She inhaled without opening her eyes, not smelling guava pastelitos and bitter espresso, but the sweet air of Barefoot Bay and the masculine scent of her lover still on the sheets. She automatically reached for him, hitting a pillow and empty space.

Blinking into the soft pink glow of dawn, she lifted her head to see Mal silhouetted against the morning sky, standing at the patio rail facing the bay, a cup of coffee in his hand. She took a minute to appreciate the physique she never tired of, his broad shoulders that seemed tailor-made for leaning on, and the way his boxer shorts hung low on narrow hips.

He dragged his hand through his hair, and although she couldn’t hear it, she imagined the sigh that lifted and dropped those mighty shoulders. Without hesitation, she rolled out of bed and glanced down at her naked body. Tempting as it was to go to him this way, he was facing the open beach. She pulled open a dresser drawer, snagged the first T-shirt her fingers touched, and slipped it over her head.

It fell to her thighs, covering her enough to pad barefoot to her lover and see what made him sigh.

“I hate when you disappear from my bed,” she said, coming up behind him to wrap her arms around his waist and lay her cheek against his strong, warm back.

“I hate disappearing from your bed.” He turned enough to bring her around and press a kiss against her forehead. “Coffee?”

He offered her his cup, and she took a big sip. “Poor man’s tooth-brushing technique,” she joked.

He reached down and kissed her mouth, tasting just as creamy as the morning blend. “Works for me.” He leaned back and flicked the shoulder of the T-shirt. “Is this a joke?”

“No, I…” She glanced down and saw what she’d chosen.

Allenwood Federal Correctional Institution

“It has sentimental value,” she teased. “Your first gift to me.”

“We did have an auspicious beginning.” He placed his hand on the words, conveniently located directly over her breast. “And an adventurous middle.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, and Chessie broke the silence to say what she suspected they both were thinking. “But what about the end?”


He slid his hand up to tuck it behind her neck and thread his fingers through her hair. “We’re doing a good job of dragging that part out, Francesca.”

“A week in paradise after what we’ve been through?” The CIA had kept them in Cuba for what had seemed like an interminable time, long enough for everything to get straightened out. Reports were filed. Investigations launched. Criminal records cleared.

Chessie had been able to make one trip to the school, but it was still a farm with Nestor Ramos saying he was keeping it closed indefinitely. And, of course, Gabe had to be told the sad news about his son, and the fact that they couldn’t be here to share his pain had been devastating.

“Anyway.” She gave him a poke in the belly. “Christmas is in two days, pal. Nino’s pulling out all the stops for your first one.”

She had arranged a grand Christmas Eve on the sands of Barefoot Bay. Nino hoped it would cheer up Gabe, and Chessie wanted to roll all thirty-eight Christmases Mal hadn’t celebrated into one.

“So, I wouldn’t call it dragging anything,” she said.

“I can’t stay on this island forever,” he said on a sigh, making her wonder if that’s what he’d been thinking about earlier.

“It would be time for address number forty-three,” she said, hating the burn of sadness just saying that brought to her chest. “So the big question is, where is that mailbox going to be?”

“I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’m free to go anywhere.”

“I imagine it’s pretty exciting,” she agreed. “You could stay here and work for McBain Security.”

He lifted a shoulder. “I might if Gabe were staying.”

She closed her eyes at the mention of Gabe. So far, he hadn’t moved on. He hadn’t done much of anything, to be fair, but work out and hide. He’d turned down three new clients, and Uncle Nino was starting to make noise about going back to Boston.

And speaking of Boston. “We, could, um, use you at the Guardian Angelinos?”

“Which sounds like a very cool place to work, but…” He shook his head, his lack of enthusiasm for any of her near-miss plans obvious. “I’m not in the private security business, you know? I’m a spy, and I don’t know how to turn that into a life now that it’s over.”