Distinguished Service. Tori Carrington

the mere thought of hearing her voice making his pulse run faster?

      The room emptied out and he sat on the edge of the conference table. He pressed the button to illuminate the cell screen only to find another voice-mail message from Janine.

      He sighed and rubbed his face. At his motel, he’d finally retrieved her messages. Five all told. The first two had been quietly nice. The next two longer narratives—the last one, she’d simply said she really needed to talk to him.

      He didn’t like the sound of that. And, yes, he admitted, a part of him was afraid of how he’d react when he finally saw her, even though he knew, with everything he was, that he wanted nothing to do with her.

      “Frank and I broke up … Well, I broke up with him … Almost immediately after you left for your last tour … Look, Mace, I know I have no right to ask you this, but it’s important I talk to you … In person … Apologize …”

      But it wasn’t that message so much as the next one that proved the cause for concern:

      “I’ve missed you …” A small, nervous laugh. “You know how hard that is for me to say, don’t you? Me? Who’s never wrong about anything.” A pause then, “But I was wrong about this. Wrong about you. I should never have done what I had. You didn’t deserve it. We didn’t deserve it. I really need to see you. Please …”

      It had been damn near impossible to get to sleep after that one. He hadn’t heard a word from her in months. Then the minute he gets back into town, he’s bombarded with calls.

      He honestly didn’t know what to do.

      He caught himself running his thumb over the cell pad again, Geneva’s name and number highlighted in his address book.

      He smiled.

      Yes, he did. He knew exactly what to do …