He held her against him covetously, one arm around her waist and the other on her ass. “That was a hell of a lot more than a mile high.”
Lara smiled as she held his head against her breasts. “Definitely,” she agreed, still in a daze, her body limp against his. Still flying above the clouds, Lara wondered whether she’d ever come down again.
“My boss sent me a text. He wants me back in DC soon. We’re shorthanded and he needs me back to work,” Lara told Tate quietly as they ate dinner together later that evening. “I was hoping I’d have more time, but he’s insistent.”
Tate nearly choked on his pasta as he inhaled to protest. He coughed and took a sip of his beer, looking at her before he spoke. “Don’t go back.”
Jesus. I can’t stand the thought of her leaving. The house would be empty without her. I’ll be empty without her.
She looked up at him and placed her fork on her plate. “You know I have to go back home. I have a career, and so do you. I don’t know what you’re still doing with the government, but I know you work a lot with the fire equipment company, developing new products. We both have our own very different lives.”
“I don’t travel much anymore, and I work with research and development in Denver for Colter Fire Equipment. I’m not there every day. I have professionals doing that job. I just give my input, and try to come up with new ideas.”
Shep whined at Lara’s feet, as though he knew what they were discussing. Hell, even his damn dog adored her. She couldn’t leave.
“I take my career seriously, Tate. I’m not a billionaire. My parents weren’t exactly prepared to die at such a young age. I got my degree from my inheritance, but I couldn’t go beyond a bachelor’s degree.” She took a sip of the white wine that she loved she’d found in his wine cellar.
Tate had already put in an order for several cases of the same wine.
“Is that why you joined the FBI?” he asked her huskily.
“Yes and no. I wanted to do something I was passionate about. Obviously I’m passionate about terrorism. Working for the FBI was a reasonable choice.”
“What else were you passionate about?”
“I got my degree in psychology. At one time, I wanted to be a counselor or a psychologist,” she admitted, her voice wistful.
“So do it. Stay here and finish school. Hell, maybe you could fix me.” Lord knew everybody told him he was crazy.
She smiled at him. “There’s not a thing I would want to change. Okay, maybe the cooking thing. But you’re rich. You don’t need to cook.” She picked up her fork again and twirled the pasta around the utensil. “I was hoping to work with abused women to get them out of the cycle of abuse.”
“Why?” Tate was fascinated now.
“I told you that I went to live with my aunt after my parents died. My uncle was abusive,” she answered in a sad voice.
“Did he hurt you?” Tate clenched his fist around the beer he held.
Lara shook her head. “No. But he hurt my aunt. I begged her to leave him, but he always came back and told her he was sorry, that he’d never do it again. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get out of the cycle. I only had to stay there for a little over a year to finish high school before I left for college, and he never touched me. But I wanted to get her out. I couldn’t.”
The regret and sadness in Lara’s eyes made Tate’s chest ache. “Where is she now?”
“She passed away a few years ago of cancer.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” She was damn alone in the world. All Tate wanted to do was hold her, be her confidante when she needed someone. “What’s your life like in Washington?”
“Mostly work.” She shrugged. “You know what it’s like to live for your job. I have a small apartment, my friends at the department. I’m content for now. I want to build up my savings and go back to school eventually. The shelf life of an agent isn’t all that long.”
Tate knew that between burnout and age, being a field agent could be a relatively short career. Agents had to be in top physical condition, and it was a demanding job. “Leave now. Stay with me and go back to school. You won’t have to work, Lara.”
She chewed and swallowed before she answered. “Not happening. I’m not sponging off a friend, even if he is a billionaire.”
“I’m more than your friend,” he rumbled irritably. “I’m one of the founders of a new charitable organization to help abused women. You could work there. Do what you really want to do.”
Her face registered surprise. “You mean the new one being started up by those billionaire brothers in Florida?”
Tate nodded. “Lots of billionaires, and not just in Florida. The Hudsons and the Harrisons are founding members, and so am I. My brothers are getting involved now, too. And Grady Sinclair in Maine.”
“Wow. That’s a lot of firepower.”
Tate smirked, amused by the way Lara measured everything by guns and law enforcement. “You could be part of it. Kade Harrison’s wife was abused, and she’s determined to do everything she can to help battered women get out of their situations. She’d be happy to have somebody trained to work with.”
He saw a flash of longing in Lara’s eyes before she slowly shook her head. “I’d still need more schooling, and I’m not ready to leave my job right now. But I might take you up on your offer in the future.”
Dammit. She was stubborn. Tate didn’t think it was a situation where she didn’t want to leave her job at the FBI, but pure dogged independence. He admired that and hated it at the same time. “When were you thinking about going back?” It ate at him to even think about her leaving.
“Tuesday.”
It was Friday. Dammit. He only had three more days to convince her to stay. He got up to take his dishes to the kitchen, racking his brain for any way to entice her to stay with him. Any other solution was unacceptable. “I’ll fly you back. I’d like to see Blake. I talked to him yesterday, but he isn’t exactly very forthcoming with information. I think it would be better if I talked to him in person.”
Lara picked up her own dishes and brought them into the kitchen; she nodded in response.
Honestly, he didn’t plan to take her anywhere at all except to bed, but he’d deal with the travel situation when and if it happened. Right now, he had to find a way to keep her with him.