Twice as Hot by Gena Showalter

hadn’t done anything.
    “Whatever
it is you’re thinking. Stop.”
    Was
he kidding? “Why? You have no idea what I’m thinking.”
    “I
can guess. You want me, and I don’t like it. Yeah, I know we were engaged. I
don’t remember, but I’ve been told, seen pictures. That doesn’t mean anything
to me right now.”
    Were engaged, he’d said. Don’t
be hurt! “You’re awfully full of yourself, aren’t you?” My pride spoke for
me, and I was helpless to stop it. “Maybe I’m looking at you but thinking of
another man. One who actually remembers me.”
    “Fuck
this. John,” he shouted. He even banged a fist into the two-way mirror,
rattling the walls. “Get her out of here.”
    My
jaw clenched, but I managed to say, “Sit down, Agent Masters.” Remember me.
Please. “John asked me to speak with you and he’s our boss, so we’ll speak.
Whether you like it or not. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can part.”
    Sadly,
that propelled him into instant motion. He stomped to the table and sat, then
waved his hand for me to do the same.
    Pretending
indifference, I tossed my notebook and pen on the surface. Eyes narrowed on
him, I smoothed my jeans and sat across from him. “This interview isn’t about
us. It’s about what happened to you that night at the warehouse. Have you
remembered anything since waking up?” I asked, getting down to business. Surely something would trigger his memory as I hoped.
    Ever
the stubborn male, he said, “I’ve already answered that question. Several
times.”
    “Not
for me.”
    For
a long while, he simply peered over at me, expression blank. I shifted left,
right, realized I appeared nervous (I was) and commanded my body to still. Then
Rome surprised me by saying, “I broke into the laboratory with a fellow agent
and helped neutralize the eighteen on-duty guards—a few with a syringe full of
night-night cocktail, a few with sleeper holds and a few with gunshots. Then we
freed the prisoners.”
    When
he offered no more, I arched a brow. “That’s it?”
    “Yes.”
    Nothing
new. “Well, then, you can just start over. This time, break it down for me
minute by minute.”
    He
scowled again, but did what I’d asked. I learned how he’d taken the guards by
surprise, tracking them through the vents and dropping onto them without them
ever being aware. I learned how he’d copied data from the computer system,
though the disks he’d stored that data on were now missing, gone like his
memories. But I learned nothing that would help me.
    “Okay,
then.” I tried another avenue. “What do you remember doing before that
last mission?”
    “Talking
to John.”
    “Before
that? And think hard.” Because he’d been with me.
    He
propped his elbows on the table and leaned forward. There was a wicked glint in
his eyes, one I knew well. He was about to provoke my fury. Before, that would
have excited me because I would have known we’d make love for hours afterward.
Now…“I kissed my daughter goodbye and left my wife sleeping in bed. Very, very
satisfied.”
    A
blazing mound of dirt suddenly and unexpectedly appeared in the palm of my
hand. Rage and jealousy, all blended into one fiery ball. I wanted to jerk my
hand under the table so he wouldn’t see, but I didn’t. It was better he learned
what happened when people upset me.
    “You’re
not married,” I said stiffly. “You’re divorced.”
    “I
know that,” he growled. “I left my ex-wife satisfied, then. But it’s only a
matter of time before she agrees to marry me again.” His focus never strayed
from the fiery mound of dirt, and before I could start sobbing over his claim,
he added, “Impressive.”
    “Thank
you.” So badly I wanted to remind him of all the (naughty) things we’d done
together, but this conversation was being recorded. Others were listening. My
colleagues did not need to know the things I allowed—okay, begged—Rome to do to
me. Then again, maybe Lexis needed to hear all about it.