Bryce stood there, still reeling from their kiss and she was like this cool efficient machine. Cutting him out before she split.
Without a doubt in his mind he knew if she left, he'd never see her again.
She'd gotten to him. Five years ago and five seconds ago. And he knew he was about to make a fool of himself for a woman who didn't want him.
"Well, there is a problem," he said, yet she kept packing. "Just anyone won't do and the last nanny neglected Carolina."
Ciara turned from where she was tossing her things into a suitcase. "What do you mean?"
"I came home unexpectedly and Carolina was in her playpen, crying, wet, dirty and hungry. And from the look of it, she'd been that way for hours. God knows what else the woman did to her."
Instant fury filled Ciara, the mere thought of anyone neglecting a child making her see red. "Did she have marks on her?" Her voice snapped with anger.
"No, thank God."
"Did you bring charges?"
"With what evidence? Yes, I fired her, called the agency and tried new ones. But Carolina screamed her head off any time a stranger came close to her."
Ciara's brows knitted and she thought of the little baby sleeping down the hall, of anyone scaring her. "But she didn't with me?"
"My point exactly."
"Oh, that's unfair, Bryce."
He knew that. And inside, he refused to admit that he wanted Ciara to stay for more than because his daughter was comfortable with her.
"You can find someone else," she said and turned her back on him. She couldn't stay. She'd already sunk too deep and though she had no idea where she'd go, where she'd hide 'til Faraday was caught, she knew she couldn't take being near Bryce when she wanted him so badly.
"I don't have time," Bryce said. "I've got negotiations for a deal that will set my company for life, not to mention the mountain of paperwork piling up at the office. I can't work and search for a new nanny at the same time. And I don't want to be forced to take the next nanny that applies. Not after last time."
Ciara's shoulders sank. He was wearing her down and she realized her survival skills were useless around Bryce Ashland.
"Look Ciara, if you can stand being near me, stay for Carolina's sake."
Ciara forced herself to fold and lay her clothes into the case. "Cheap shot."
"I'm desperate." Bryce felt as if he was losing a battle he wasn't sure he wanted to win.
She faced him, her gaze clashing with his.
Damn, Bryce thought. He hated that frosty stare. And it hurt to see it aimed at him. It was as if Ciara could take her heart out and put it on a shelf 'til she needed it.
"Okay, I'll stay."
Shock and relief swept through him and made his shoulders droop.
"But under one condition."
Figures, he thought. "What?"
"No touching me." She was just too vulnerable when it came to him.
"Agreed."
She eyed him suspiciously, in a way that made him see the woman in Hong Kong who'd easily left him on the hotel room floor.
"Okay, we have a deal—"
Suddenly Carolina cried out, and without a glance, Ciara left the room, racing to his child.
She might put her heart on a shelf where he was concerned, but with this baby, she wore it on her sleeve. He glanced at her suitcase, then left the bedroom, wondering why he just didn't leave it alone. It wasn't bad enough that he'd destroyed Diana's life, what would he do to Ciara's if given the chance?
A chance she wasn't allowing. Probably a good thing, he thought. One night years ago left a mark on them and although it fed memory and desire, there wasn't anything there for a future. Not that he wanted one. And she sure as hell had made it clear she didn't.
Great sex just wasn't enough anymore.
At least, not for him.
* * *
Three days later, in the darkened house, Ciara slipped out the French doors and walked quickly to the gazebo. Sitting down on the curved bench, she instantly opened the small laptop, stretched her fingers and started typing. A familiar excitement raced through her as she watched the screen, routing her phone line through a hotel in Switzerland, an airport in Australia, one in Tokyo and a half dozen other places before ending at her unit at the CIA. The Intel computer phone rang and Ciara, opting for the headset instead of the phone, put it on just as it rang on her senior supervisor's desk. He was the only person she could trust.
"Patterson."
"Indigo Alpha, 4-0-8," Ciara said and heard the appropriate clicks that scrambled the line.
"How you doing, kid?"
Only her boss would call a thirty-year-old agent a kid. "Fine. Any light in the tunnel?"
"No, lay low. He's still free. It's going to take some time. I'll contact you."