The Education of Caraline

He grinned as he caught the gist of my meaning.

“I see! Well, perhaps I can make up for your lack of progress by buying you a drink tonight?”

Oh. I wasn’t expecting that.

“That’s very kind of you, Major, but I have some notes to prepare. It has been a pleasure meeting you.”

He took my rejection well, returning my handshake with just the right amount of pressure.

“Good luck out there,” he said seriously. “Keep your head down: I’d hate to hear that anything had happened to you.” He hesitated for a moment. “Perhaps we could meet up – next time you’re in Geneva – or in fact anywhere in Switzerland. I’ll be in this post for the next six months at least.”

“Well, thank you. I don’t have any plans to be in the country again, but I’ll certainly make a note of that.”

At which point he resigned the field, and left with his dignity intact – and my opinion of him rose even higher.

“You are not interested, Lee?” said Marc, a knowing look on his face.

“What’s the point?” I sighed. “I won’t be in Switzerland again for months, if ever.”

“You could just take him for a quick ride – see what his rising trot is like,” Liz smirked.

I rolled my eyes. One-night stands had never been my thing, and what I’d said was true: there was no point in starting such a long-distance relationship. Apart from which, I’d have been a fool to get mixed up with another military man after my disastrous marriage.

We headed to the bar and spent the evening with some of the other journalists, swapping tall tales about some of the locations we’d reported from. Liz’s tales were by far the tallest – although in her case, I was willing to bet they were all true.

Shortly before midnight, I headed back to my hotel, feeling in a much better mood. I still hadn’t heard back from my editor during the day, but I was hopeful I’d be on the move soon.

I threw off my clothes and showered quickly, before checking my emails again. Still no word about my ride to Leatherneck. Annoying – but I wasn’t going to worry just yet.

I programmed my cell to wake me in the morning and turned off the light, hoping against hope that I might actually get some sleep.

I was woken abruptly when someone banged on my bedroom door. I scrunched up my eyes and peered at my phone. Jeez! Two in the morning. Who the hell was knocking on my door at this hour?

Grumpily, I switched on the bedside lamp, squinting against the light, and fumbled for my robe.

“Who is it?”

“Let me in, Caro.”

No one had called me ‘Caro’ in years; in fact, only one person had ever used that version of my name. And I knew his voice – except the tone was off.

Surprise and shock made my heart rate spike suddenly.

“What do you want, Sebastian?” I called through the door.

“Let me in,” he mumbled again. “I need to talk to you.”

Now he wanted to talk?

He banged on the door again. “Caro!”

At this rate he’d been waking up the entire hotel. God, he was irritating. And his sense of timing was lousy.

Reluctantly, but curious nonetheless, I pulled the door open.

Sebastian was leaning against the door frame, deliciously rumpled in old jeans, black T-shirt and a brown leather jacket. Irritating and gorgeous.

“Caro,” he said, a leer on his face.

Oh hell. And also very drunk.

“What do you want, Sebastian?”

He didn’t answer, but pushed past me into my room.

“What are you doing?” I said, my temper rising.

“Catching up with old friends,” he smirked

“How did you find me?”

He grinned and tapped the side of his head with one long finger, “Military intelligence.”

I closed the door, hoping that no one had seen or heard his noisy entrance into my room. But the hotel corridor was silent.

He fumbled out of his jacket and tossed it towards the chair, missing by a mile. I couldn’t help noticing that his T-shirt was snug on his body in a way that brought back too many memories.

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