Gabe closed what little gap remained between them, eased his arms around her, and set her cheek against his chest. Her hair smelled like summer, and he buried his face in it, his lips pressed against her.

Thoughts of her as a spy or even a thief vanished. All he wanted was to hold her.

He ran his hands inside her jacket and up to her shoulders. Her hold on him intensified. She worked her fingers into the muscles of his back.

"I haven't been able to stop thinking about you," she whispered.

He reached under her blouse and ran his fingertips over the silky hollow of her back. In that moment, nothing else seemed to matter—nothing but her touch and the feel of her skin.

It had been so long since sex was special, he was thinking—so long since a kiss really mattered.

"Gabe," she whispered, "tell me there'll be time for us."

He set his lips on the base of her neck. "I can't believe this is happening. There'll be time. I promise you there will—as much time as you need, as much time as you want."

She eased herself back, never taking her eyes from his.

"I knew you were out there, Gabe. A smart, kind, gentle, funny man. I knew it."

"I don't want you to stop touching me."

"I intend to redefine the term. But any moment now the covering doc will be strolling in. I'm not sure this is the way we want him to find us."

"I love that it's happening," Gabe said, holding her tightly, one last time. "And I really do promise you there'll be time. But what's his name up in the residence and his wife are expecting me, and I think maybe I should show up there since they are my only patients."

Alison straightened up and tucked in her blouse.

"You're not afraid of me anymore?"

"Do you mean afraid, or mistrustful? Because I was never afraid."

She kissed him under his chin and then adjusted his tie once more and smoothed his jacket.

"So, what do you want to know?" she asked suddenly.

His gaze fixed on hers.

"Did you really save me that night or was that whole car thing a setup to gain my confidence?"

"There was no setup, Gabe. That was the real deal, just like this is."

She rose to her tiptoes and kissed him lightly on the lips.

He gently moved her away from him, keeping his hands on her shoulders, knowing that if she was lying, he was hardly in a position to be able to tell. Still, he desperately wanted to ask one more question—provided he could ask it without giving away privileged information.

"The bloods I drew on the president," he suddenly heard himself asking, "why did you take the tubes from the refrigerator? You were one of the few besides me who had access to them."