The first time had never been so frantic. Or so perfect. There was always awkwardness with a new lover-that struggle to find the rhythm that works for both of you. But with Conrad...it was like our bodies just knew what to do.

He slid inside of me, and it was like the world just disappeared. There was nothing but the connection of our bodies and the pleasure rushing through me with every movement. He guided me with a hand on my hip, but only for a moment. And then his fingers were searching out tender spots I never knew I had, like the place just beneath my bra strap that sang when he ran his fingers across it, or the place just above the last knot of my spine that made me arch my neck at a ridiculously impossible angle.

I had never done anything like that. It felt so reckless, so insane. I'd had girlfriends, once upon a time, who talked about wild, spontaneous sex, and I had always scoffed at them behind their backs. No man would ever make me abandon my sense of self-respect, or cause me to bare my body in a public place. Yet, here I was, pressing my hand against the fogged up windows of his little car like some girl in a movie.

And I was loving every minute of it.

I almost regretted the moment he cried out, when I felt him swell inside of me. When the hard press of his final thrust set off a shockwave in my lower belly. I threw my head back and bit my lower lip hard enough to draw blood, as my orgasm washed through me, wiping away all ability to think or to reason. Then, I fell, like a puddle of water, into his arms, my breathing as rough as his, my heart pounding in time with his.

If that was what the first time was like, I knew I had to know what seconds, thirds, and fourths would be like, too.

Chapter Eight.

The call I had been dreading came early the next morning. I nearly cried when I woke up, not to the bleating noise of my alarm, but to the quiet chimes of a preprogrammed call notification.

"We need to talk," a familiar voice muttered into my ear when I answered. "Twenty minutes. The corner diner."

I disliked being told what to do, but that was one command I had no intention of defying.

I showered quickly, a little reluctant to wash off the scent of Conrad that still lingered on my skin. I couldn't help but think about him as I touched the places he'd touched and felt the lingering ache of soreness our acrobatics in the car had created. He'd left me at the front door with a chaste little kiss. He would have offered more, but I insisted I couldn't leave my grandmother alone much longer. And I couldn't invite him in. It felt almost like the end of a teenager's elicit night of debauchery than a lunch date between consenting adults. But I kind of liked the feeling...I never did bring a boy home for my uncle to meet.

But now? That voice on the phone threatened exactly what I had been afraid of all along.

The end of our time in Portland.

I dressed quickly, sliding into jeans and a sweatshirt instead of the more professional outfit I'd set out for work the night before. Russell would just have to understand if I was a little late to work this morning. A quick peek to assure myself that my grandmother was still sleeping, and I slipped out the front door.

There was a twenty-four hour diner down the block from our house that served the best pancakes in town. I tried to eat there most mornings because Russell and Einstein often had me hopping so constantly during the day that I didn't have time for lunch. But it was also a convenient place to meet people better not seen near my house.

He was in a booth next to the windows when I walked in.

"Hey, missy!" one of the waitresses called. "How's it going?"

"Good, Deanna. How's your son? Did he do well at his baseball game this weekend?"

"They won, five to four."

"Great. Tell him I said congrats."

I fell onto the empty bench across from him, noting the concern lines next to his eyes were already deeply apparent this morning.

"You heard," I said in way of greeting.

"Someone gets kidnapped at your place of employment, that's probably something I should be made aware of."

"It didn't have anything to do with me."

"And you know that how?"

"I just do."

His eyes narrowed a little, a dark cloud rushing over his face as he studied the dark circles under my eyes. "You're not sleeping."

"It brought up a lot of memories."

His expression softened slightly. "We're going to have to move you. You know that."

I opened my mouth to protest, but another waitress came with a coffee cup and a pot to fill it with. "What can I get for you?" she asked.

"Just the coffee," I said.

"No pancakes today?"

I shook my head, wrapping both hands around the cup to allow the hot liquid to warm my body.

He watched her walk away before he focused on me again. I found myself wondering who the waitresses thought he was. We met here once every three weeks, a quiet meal together to discuss my grandmother's deteriorating health and the few things that were going on in my life. He offered advice sometimes, but mostly just listened. They must have thought he was my father. He was old enough to be. At least, I thought so, from the graying hair at his temples and the wrinkles crisscrossing his sun-darkened skin.

Richard Collins. That's what I'd been told his name was. It probably wasn't his real name, but it felt real enough to me. He wasn't my father, but he did things for me that a father might. He fought for me to attend college, not once, but twice. He made sure my grandmother and I stayed together. And he allowed us the dignity of keeping our real first names.

I was told that almost never happened in WITSEC.

Witness Security Program.

Richard Collins was an officer with the United States Marshals Service.

"Your cover has been compromised. We have to move you."

I shook my head. "You promised after the last move-"

"I promised we would do our best. But, from what I understand, you were the intended target of this kidnapper, and it was just dumb luck that they confused you with that other woman."

"Madison."

"What?"

"The other woman. Her name is Madison and she's my friend."

"I'm sorry." Richard reached across the table and touching my hand. "I know you're tired of all this. But it's the only way to protect you."

I pulled my hand away, lifting my coffee cup to my lips, but not drinking. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but I didn't want his compassion just now.

"The police seem to think this was just a case of corporate espionage, like the papers are saying, but they can't be certain. And we can't take a chance."

"Johnny Duprey is in jail."

"But his lieutenants aren't. We've been over this before."

We had...the first time he approached my grandmother and me about WITSEC...when he told us we'd have to leave California and move to Arizona and when we left Arizona for here. He reminded me of that every time.

And it still had the power to shoot cold blades of fear through my heart.

My hands started to shake. I had to put my coffee cup down before the contents found their way to the front of my sweatshirt.

"Memaw's not fit to travel."

"I know." Richard sat back and glanced out the window, watching the cars go by for a moment. "We talked to her doctor, and he thinks she would benefit from moving into an assisted care facility."

"No." I sat up a little straighter, leaning forward so he couldn't miss a word I said. "I will not place my grandmother into one of those places."

"You might not have a choice."

He wouldn't look at me when he said it. Even so, his meaning made its way through my fear and my anger to settle with the power of a bucket filled with ice water poured over my head.

"You want to move me without her. You want to stick her into some home here in Portland."

"They don't want her, Mellissa. They want you."

I shook my head even though I knew what he was saying was true. "My uncle made you promise-"

"And we've done the best we could to keep that promise. But everyone knew from the beginning that this day might come."

The idea of being separated from the only person left in my life who knew me before-who loved me before-broke my heart. And he knew it. I could see the understanding in his eyes and that made it so much worse. If he didn't care, if this was nothing but another job to him, maybe it would have been easier to defy him. To spit on everything he had done for me over the past six years. But he did care.

"I won't go. I'll leave the program before I let you separate us."

"Don't do that." He reached across the table and grabbed my arm, pulling it until I was leaning toward him and we were only inches apart. "These people have been looking for you for years, Mellissa. Do you really think they will stop just because you've decided you've had enough? The moment you leave the program, they'll be on you like flies on shit. And you will be dead by the end of the month." He squeezed my arm a little harder. "Do you think that will help your uncle? Do you think that will do your grandmother any good?"

A squeal of tires and a prolonged blare of someone's car horn broke the tension. I glanced out the window and wanted to disappear.

Conrad's car was stopped in the middle of the lane right outside the diner.

"It's not what you think."

"So you said."

I tried to grab his arm again, but he pulled away. Again. We'd been going back and forth like this since I jumped into his car, riding unwittingly with him to his downtown office. He wouldn't even look at me at first, driving much too fast and much too recklessly through the morning traffic for me to even catch my breath, let alone explain anything. When he slammed the car into a parking space in the underground garage beside his building, he got out of the car like he didn't even know I was there.

"This is really mature," I said. "You're acting like a three-year-old who didn't get his way."

"I'm the immature one?" he asked, jabbing a finger into his own chest. "You're the one that had sex with me in my car yesterday and then this morning you're having some sort of lover's tiff with some guy."

"It wasn't a lover's tiff."

"Then what the hell was it?"

But that was it. I couldn't tell him.

WITSEC makes you sign a contract that is hundreds of pages long. And one of the first stipulations in that contract is that you can't tell anyone that you're in the program. No one. Not even a lover.

There was nothing I wanted more, but I couldn't.

When I didn't answer, Conrad turned away.

"Please," I said. "I never meant for you to see that."

"I'm sure you didn't." He dropped into his office chair and opened his laptop computer. "I'm sure it was your intention for neither of us to know about the other. But, again, this isn't a relationship, right?"

"He's not my lover."

"Then who is he?"

I shook my head, drawing a blank. I could have said he was a friend, but he wasn't. Not really. He was so much more than that. The truth was the only thing that could really explain what my relationship was with Richard, but that was the last thing I could tell him.

Conrad stared at me for a long minute then shook his head, turning his attention to his computer. "Why don't you just go? I can't even stand to look at you."

"You told me the truth is full of grays." I went to his desk and slammed my hands against the top. "If that's good enough for you, why isn't it good enough for me?"

"Because this requires black and white."

"Why? Why is this different from everything else?"

"Because."

"Because why?"

He looked at me, and then he shoved his computer, knocking it over onto its side. It would have gone off the desk if it hadn't slammed into my arm.

"Because I care about you," he said, as he stood and shoved his chair back against the wall. "Because I thought you were different, that I could be enough for you."

"We barely know each other."

"We know each other well enough for yesterday to be..." He hesitated, but the look in his eyes told me what he couldn't put into words.

I wasn't the only one who was in trouble here.

And that realization made my eyes burn with tears that begged to be shed.

This was all so unfair!