But there was no way to know if a relationship between them would work. Over the years, he’d dated plenty of women, but none of the affairs had lasted more than a few days or weeks. Everything about Skye felt different, his need for her somehow deeper, almost vital.

Still, there was no real way to predict what might happen, and he didn’t want to jeopardize a friendship he valued so greatly.

Along with that, sooner or later, he’d find a way to clear his name and return to the Green Berets. It was what he was trained for, what he was meant to do. He’d rain justice down on Major Bradley Markham and get his life back.

What if they were together? He’d be deployed most of the year. It wouldn’t be fair to Skye to tie her to a man who wouldn’t be there for her.

It was dark outside the tall glass windows in the living room, the lights of the city sparkling for miles in all directions. Edge tried to motivate himself to go into the kitchen and fix something to eat, or at least call for a pizza delivery, but after his conversation with Conn, his appetite had waned.

He straightened on the sofa. Elbows on his knees, he sat with his head tipped forward into his hands. He’d leave Skye alone, he told himself. No matter how tough it would be, he’d stay away from her, do his best to put things back the way they were before that earth-shattering kiss.

He thought of Henson. Skye intended to find him. Edge had promised to help her, had given her his word. That meant more time together, more sleepless nights aching for her.

Maybe he could talk to Trace, convince Trace to take his place. Trace was smart, strong, and capable, and he’d do everything in his power to protect one of his best friends.

He was also a damn good-looking man, one any red-blooded female would find attractive.

A knot tightened in his stomach. Trace and Skye were just friends, but still . . .

And what about Henson? No matter how much he trusted Trace’s abilities, Henson and his men were deadly opponents. Skye could be injured or even killed. Edge needed to be there to make sure she was safe.

His head came up at the sound of a knock on the door. It was getting late, and he wasn’t expecting visitors. As he crossed the room, he flicked a glance at the drawer in the side table where he kept a little .380 semiauto. His job pissed off a lot of people. Better to be safe than sorry.