Entering the terminal, Cam went straight to the counter with his phone to his ear. Twitch answered while he stood in line.
“Yes, I can track her phone,” she said without greeting.
Cam chuckled. “What can I say? I’m slow on the uptake.”
“Nah, you’re just a mess like the rest of us.” He could hear the sound of her fingers moving across the keyboard. “She's in Palo Alto. I’ll text you the address.”
“Thanks, Twitch.”
“Go get her, tiger.”
Evan left her suitcase by the front door. Everything in it needed to go straight to the laundry.
In five days, she had been from Palma to Algiers to Cairo to Madrid and finally back to Palo Alto. The sheer madness of the diamond discovery, the travel, and the press had taken every minute of her time. Almost every minute. She would have thought the hectic schedule would have been enough to distract her from thoughts of Cam. It was not. Everywhere she looked, there was some reminder—an Almond Joy in an airport gift shop, a question from the media about the discovery, the smell of the ocean. Even now, the yellow flame of the jasmine-scented candle burning by her bed had Evan imagining Cam's hungry eyes.
On the flight from London to Cairo, she had downloaded an article on undercover operatives from a medical journal. She’d read about how immersive and taxing the process was for deep cover agents, and she’d felt awful. Calling Cam “Miguel” was an honest, understandable mistake, but she had profoundly underestimated the impact doing so would have. Evan didn’t care about his name, but for him, the name mattered. Miguel Ramirez was not a role he relished; Miguel was not the man Cam was. When she had expressed her feelings, her love, and called him Miguel…
She passed through her cozy living area, grabbed a bottled water from the kitchen fridge, and headed straight into the bedroom.
She set the water on the end table next to the stack of classic novels she and her father had committed to reading. She ran her hand along the spines: Jane Eyre, Nicholas Nickleby, The Scarlet Pimpernel, her fingers stopping on her father's choice, Robert Louis Stevenson's Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. She winced. She didn’t think of Cam's cover identity as Mr. Hyde, but she imagined that's how Cam felt.
She flopped onto the bed, her frustration welling. She wanted, no, she needed to see Cam, to explain that she had always seen the real man beneath his cover. He may not want Evan the way she wanted him—his absence was a painful ache—but she needed to tell him how she felt. Evan thought back to the night in the cave when she had explained the meaning of an introvert. She processed emotions rather than expressing them. Well, that ended today. She loved this man. Cam. She loved him. And that was too important to bury under layers of shyness and inexperience.
First, she needed sleep— weeks of non-stop work had taken their toll. Evan staggered to the shower and quickly rinsed the day of travel from her body. Slipping into a weathered Stanford T-shirt she had had since freshman year, she crawled back into bed and let sleep claim her. Tomorrow she was going after her man.
Evan awoke before her alarm, filled with purpose. In the predawn darkness, she changed into yoga pants, a purple tank top, and running shoes to grab coffee and a muffin from the bakery she had missed like an old friend. In the hall of her small apartment building, she saw an actual old friend. Mara, her neighbor, a med student she had known since junior year, was just returning from a run.
“You’re back,” Mara greeted with a smile.
“Finally.” Evan puffed out a breath.
Mara placed her hands on the wall and stretched her calves. “And rumor has it, you’re a celebrity.”
“Hardly, but it was pretty awesome.”
“I need the whole story. Every detail,” Mara insisted.
Shooting a thumb over her shoulder, Evan said, “I’ll grab your chai and a muffin and tell you all about it.” She leaned closer. “There's a man involved.”
“That might be bigger news than finding a diamond where you’re concerned.” Mara assessed her friend then checked her watch. “Shoot, I’m due at the hospital in half an hour. Come by tonight. We can get into the wine.”
“Perfect. I still have a few bottles from the case of Pinot my dad sent,” Evan replied.
“I knew having a friend who grew up on a vineyard would pay off. See you tonight.” Mara smiled and disappeared into her apartment.
The sun was just peeking over the buildings to the east when Evan rounded the corner with her coffee and cranberry muffin set in the cup holders of the cardboard tray.
She stopped. An imposing, shadowed form sat on her stoop. A man—a man she had seen in dim light enough to recognize immediately.
Cam. He was here.
Evan halted, frozen in place. Cam scanned the street. When his eyes found her, he stood and stepped down to the sidewalk, facing her. Wearing military green pants, combat boots, and a gray T-shirt, he stood calm and ready. Evan could see those incredible irises even half a block away.
She dropped the drink carrier and ran. Cam met her halfway and crushed his mouth to hers. They were a tangle of lips and tongues and hands. He lifted her by her backside and pulled her thighs around his waist.
“Cam,” she breathed out between kisses.
He kissed her cheek, his lips traveling down to her neck. “Say it again.”