There was no other way to describe her loss of control—and the accusation she’d flung at Zeke.
Of course he’d read between the lines, realized she still had feelings for him.
Even worse, the lapse had forced her to acknowledge the hard truth that she wasn’t over him.
Not by a long shot.
And his simple question about her marital status had exposed the other lie she’d always told herself—that her single state had nothing to do with Zeke. That she’d simply never found the right man.
Hogwash.
She’d never married—or even dated much after he dumped her—because every other man she’d met had paled in comparison.
Stifling a groan, she closed her eyes.
What a mess.
No undercover job was easy, and there was always a degree of danger—but who could have predicted that this case would include danger that put her heart at risk?
High risk, judging by her erratic pulse, the tingle in her fingertips, and her balking lungs.
Crud.
One short encounter with Zeke, and she was reduced to a fraying mass of emotions.
Not acceptable.
Even if the man’s almost tangible virility was more powerful today than it had been eight years ago—when it had been seriously potent.
Even if the high voltage between them continued to buzz—on both sides, unless her instincts were off.
Even if the regret deep in his dark irises suggested he could be sorry their relationship had been sacrificed on the altar of ambition and adrenaline-pumping assignments.
But talking about the past wouldn’t change it—so why stir up old hurts?
She’d have to—
“Is everything okay?”
As the male voice spoke, Cate jerked her eyes open.
Noah Evans stood two feet away.
The very man she’d wanted to see—just not at this particular moment.
But despite the bad timing, she had to suck it up. Switch gears. Take advantage of this encounter with one of the people in her sights.
Fortunately, it didn’t require much acting to portray an unhappy teen whose world was shifting around her.
She sniffed and fished out a tissue. “Yeah. I’m kind of . . . I’m new here, and getting used to this place is . . . it’s hard, you know?”
“I understand.” Compassion softened his features, and he stuck out his hand. “Noah Evans. I’m one of the guidance counselors.”
As she slid her fingers into his, she called up his stats from the background sheet the department had prepared. Age forty-one, recent divorce, no children, master’s degree, eighteen-month tenure at Ivy Hill after working in a similar job on the East Coast.
“Cate Sheppard.”
“Nice to meet you, Cate.” He gave her a megawatt smile that was a tad too intense . . . and held on to her hand a fraction too long. “I noticed you in the cafeteria today, and I saw your name on the roster of new students. Anytime you want to talk, my door is open.”
Her brain clicked into analytical mode.
How would a troubled teenage girl who felt as if she’d been dumped in a reform school by her parents—someone like Cate Sheppard . . . or Stephanie Laurent—react to this guy’s attention and über empathy?
Maybe not in a healthy—or safe—way. Needy people often sought affection and understanding wherever they could find it.
This guy was definitely worth getting to know.
“Thanks. I may stop by.”
“Should we set up an appointment? That way, I’ll be available when you come and can give you my full attention.” He pulled out his cell and opened his calendar.
Perfect.
“I guess.”
“Tomorrow after classes? I’m here until four-thirty.”
“Sure.”
“Great.” While he tapped a few keys, Zeke rounded the corner—and almost ran into them.
“Sorry.” He pulled up short. “I didn’t mean to run you over.”
“No harm done. See you tomorrow, Cate.” Noah smiled at her and continued down the hall.
Ignoring Zeke, she strode toward the door that led to her dorm.
He didn’t follow or try to walk with her.
Thank you, God, for small favors!
At the exit, she took a quick peek over her shoulder—and found him standing where she’d left him, hands in pockets . . . watching her.
His perusal made her as uncomfortable as Evans’s had—for entirely different reasons.
She knew Zeke. They had a history. And while her relationship with the former detective turned DEA undercover agent hadn’t ended happily, he was otherwise an honorable man.
Evans was a stranger who’d given her an intimate smile and whose honor was unproven. He was also in a unique position to take advantage of vulnerable young women. Those facts, combined with Kayla’s warning, solidified his position on her suspicious list.
Hugging her coat close, she pushed outside and followed the walkway, past the lengthening shadows of Ivy Hill, head dipped against the frigid wind.
She shivered . . . but the icy gusts pummeling her didn’t bear the bulk of the blame. That belonged to the ominous goings-on at this high-priced girls’ school.
Ties to a Mexican drug cartel. Missing teenagers. A guidance counselor with questionable intentions.
Were all those seemingly disparate pieces related?
If so, what was the link?
And what other secrets—and connections—were waiting to be discovered?
So many questions, so few answers.
Yet.
But she’d find them. If Stephanie and her boyfriend had met an untimely end, they would get justice. She’d see to it.
And no one—including the handsome DEA agent who’d disrupted her investigative strategy—was going to distract her from that goal.
No one.
Will downed the last bite of his nuked dinner, swigged his beer . . . and glanced at the laptop on the other end of the table, fingers itching.
He ought to shut it down for the night. Watch a movie, read a book, go to the gym. Those would be the safest pastimes on this Monday evening.
Except none of them were appealing—especially the gym. Despite the new physical patrol policy he’d instituted at Ivy Hill, exercise stunk.
And he’d had his fill of it for today.
What he needed was an activity to help him relax.
If Suz was here, there would be several possibilities—but until the six-month separation she’d mandated was over, his wife was keeping her distance.
So he’d have to entertain himself.
He rose and wandered over to the trash can, dinner container in hand. Tossed it in the bin. Retrieved another beer. Wiped down the counter.
Eyed the computer again.
Swigging the beer, he ambled over.
What could it hurt to browse through a few sites? No one would find out. It wasn’t as if anyone other than Suz—and his anonymous benefactor—knew about his issue. And Suz wasn’t around.
He sat at the table, muting the red alert that began beeping in his mind.
Yeah, yeah, he was venturing into dangerous territory. Exposing himself to temptation. But he wouldn’t succumb. He’d learned his lesson.
Digging himself into another hole would be stupid.
A man deserved a little fun, though—as long as he had the funds to pay for it and the self-discipline to maintain control. Hadn’t he earned a reward for all his months of self-restraint?