By three-thirty she was being escorted across the street, where Andre promised to work a miracle on her hair. Her skin was vacuumed, her pores cleansed, her feet pedicured and her fingers massaged. While this was done, Andre cut off six inches of hair, gave her a deep conditioning, then blew her hair dry over a fat, round brush.
A six-foot redheaded amazon beauty then explained the mysteries of makeup, chose a foundation that actually matched Jamie’s skin and didn’t streak.
By six Jamie was back in her apartment. She’d maxed out a credit card. Instead of feeling shocked, she was thrilled. “I should have done this years ago,” she said as she scampered to the bathroom.
She walked into the room, closed her eyes, flipped on the light, then opened her eyes. A stranger stared back. A pretty stranger with thick, shoulder-length hair that swayed and bounced. Andre’s cut had freed up natural waves Jamie didn’t know she’d had. He’d trimmed her bangs and thinned them until they were wisps. Makeup highlighted her wide hazel eyes.
Color stained her cheeks and her mouth. Diamond earrings glinted at her earlobes.
In place of worn blue jeans, she wore a denim skirt, a fitted T-shirt with a suede vest hanging open. Jamie laughed out loud. She looked…normal.
She stared at the piles of boxes and bags all over the floor. She had shoes, makeup, clothes, lingerie, accessories. She was going to have to buy a dresser. Maybe even a nightstand and another lamp.
She ignored the packages and walked into her kitchen. Sitting in the middle of the round oak table was the plant she’d bought herself. Coleus something. The man at the flower shop had sworn it was about as hardy as they came. She couldn’t kill it. She had detailed instructions about feeding and watering her new possession.
She’d never had a plant before. It implied permanence. That she would be staying here indefinitely. That she would be around enough to take care of it and talk to it. It made the sterile apartment more of a home.
She put a cup of water in the microwave to heat it for instant coffee, then leaned against the sink and stared out at the bay. The sun drifted toward the water, making the waves glimmer with gold. The emptiness inside was still there-it would always be there-but right now it was bearable. She hadn’t yet learned how to forget, but eventually she would figure out how to go on living. Who knows, she might even get herself together enough to go to the trouble to make a pot of coffee for just herself.
The microwave beeped and the phone rang at the same moment. Jamie’s heart jumped into overdrive. She reached for the receiver as her heart sent up a fervent prayer. Please, let it be Zach.
“Hello?”
“Sanders, you bored by retirement yet?”
The pain was so intense, she thought she might be dying. Not Zach. Foolish of her to think he would call. He’d made his choice and he was never going to admit he was wrong.
She sank to the floor and pulled her knees close to her chest. After taking a deep breath so her voice wouldn’t shake, she said, “I’m fine, Winston. How are you?”
“I’m spending a lot of time wondering how I’m supposed to get anything done without you.”
The microwave beeped softly to remind her about the heated water. She ignored it.
“You have lots of capable agents. I’m sure they can step in for me without any problem.”
“You were a little more than capable. What have you been doing with yourself? I’ve been calling every couple of weeks, and this is the first time I’ve caught you home.”
“I’ve been-” She squeezed her eyes shut. I’ve been falling in love with a wonderful man. I’ve been living the fantasy. I’ve been making plans and watching them disappear into dust.
“I’ve been adjusting,” she said.
“Not easy, is it?” His voice was low and sympathetic.
“No, but I’m determined to keep trying. I’ll figure it all out.”
“Maybe you don’t have to.”
“What does that mean?”
“I used to be a field agent, just like you. After ten years, I tried to walk away.”
The microwave beeped again. She opened her eyes and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t know that.”
“Not many people do. The point is, I couldn’t make it on the outside. I needed the agency. It was in my blood. So I came back.”
“Is that what this phone call is about?” she asked, then shook her head. “I’m not interested, Winston. I’ve made my decision and I’m going to stick to it.”
“I’m not inviting you to go back in the field. I’m offering you something inside. A promotion. You’d be based here in Washington. Technology is changing and improving every day. We’re going to be adding another department. I’d like you to run that.”
She leaned her head against the cupboard door. “Would I be running agents?” she asked.
“Sure. You’d have a great team. The best. I’d let you pick them yourself.”
That’s what she was afraid of. “No, Winston. I don’t want the best. I don’t want to be responsible for sending other people into dangerous situations. I have to make a life for myself outside of the agency.”
“What if you can’t?”
She’d asked herself the question a thousand times. “If I can’t, then I’ll come crawling back and offer to work as your secretary.”
“That would be great, but I’m not going to hold my breath. You’ve never failed at anything, Jamie. I figured you were going to refuse, but I had to try. Stay in touch.”
“I will.”
He hung up without saying goodbye.
She sat on the floor and listened to the silence. She could have asked. It would have been so easy to casually ask if Zach was back on assignment. After all, she’d been the one to save his life. Winston wouldn’t have thought anything of the inquiry.
Where was he right now? The Middle East? Africa? South America? Was he even still alive?
That question kept her up nights. How would she know if something happened to him? Eventually information filtered down the agency grapevine, but she wasn’t hooked up to that anymore. Five years from now, would she run into Winston and ask? Would he look puzzled and say, Zach died years ago. Didn’t you know?
Would she spend the rest of her life waiting for Zach only to find out he was gone? Or would she just be waiting for a man who had no intention of finding her?
The microwave beeped, reminding her about the now-cooling water. She stood up and replaced the receiver, then reset the timer and started the machine again. She didn’t have the answer to any of those questions. When Zach had refused to even try to make it work between them, he’d made his choice. When she’d walked away without a word, she’d made hers. There was nothing left to do but get her life together and move forward.
Winston stared at the report in front of him. Zach felt strangely out of sorts. Instead of waiting patiently, he prowled the well-appointed office, adjusting souvenirs on bookshelves and straightening already straight pictures.
“You passed the physical with no problem,” Winston said, then flipped back a couple of pages. “You heal pretty fast for an old man.”
“Thanks.” Zach shrugged. “I owe it all to my clean living.”
And Jamie. She’d taken care of him, fixing healthy meals, encouraging him to exercise. Together they’d worked out their own physical-therapy program.
“You want to know what the psychiatrist had to say?” Winston asked.
“Not really.”
“He thinks you’ve got a death wish.”
There’s a news flash, he thought grimly. “What’s your point?”
Winston lowered the papers to the desk. “Do you?”
Zach moved toward the desk and lowered himself into one of the leather chairs there. He leaned back, then placed one ankle on the opposite knee. “Every assignment is a death wish. Going out in the field is inherently risky. Some people come back, some people don’t. What your mental friend didn’t like was that I’m not afraid to die.”