But he didn’t say any of that.

“No. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

She rose, hefted the backpack into position, and pushed through the door.

He watched until she disappeared through the stacks, then killed the app on his phone and stood.

Wobbled.

What the . . . ?

He grabbed the edge of the table . . . and sucked in a breath as the cause of his unsteadiness registered.

His legs were shaky—both of them, not just the one that had taken two bone-shattering bullets.

Staring into the eyes of cold-blooded killers, facing torture and death if his cover was blown, had never rattled him as much as the past fifteen minutes had.

More proof he wasn’t over Cate.

But much as he’d like to have a heart-to-heart with her about personal matters, that would have to wait. She wasn’t receptive—and they both had a job to do.

Before he left St. Louis, though, the two of them would hash this out.

In the interim, he had a ton of thinking to do—about evolving career aspirations, an unforgettable woman . . . and how to make amends for what may have been the second biggest mistake of his life.

Cate rounded the corner of the hallway that led away from the library . . . verified she was alone . . . and slumped against the wall.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

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.