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were seeing in the number of women raising the glass ceiling and earning influential positions these days was because many of them were Athena graduates.

Alex thanked the general, noted he didn’t try to crush her hand as she stood and shook his, and moved him down toward the bottom of her list.

She didn’t take him off it. She wasn’t taking anybody off at this early stage.

Her afternoon appointment netted her an endorsement from a senator she wouldn’t have expected it from. Patrick Rankin, Junior Senator from New Hampshire, told her that he’d only opposed the school for political reasons, that he himself had always thought it would work.

This was a surprise, because the man was an ally of senate lion Eldon Waterton, who had been an Arizona senator since long before Marion was elected. Waterton had opposed her on nearly every matter, although he’d stayed out of the Athena issue.

G.C. had always suspected that it was because he had a granddaughter he hoped might attend someday. Politicians, he grumbled, were all for standing on principle for everybody else.

As Alex barely managed not to gape at Rankin, he went on to say that he was glad he’d been proven right, that Athena women were shining in all fields. He seemed a bit too curious about why she was asking, but she also couldn’t help but notice that his statements were peppered with comments that revealed a certain admiration for Senator Gracelyn. Or perhaps it was simply courtesy to a fellow senator.

She moved him farther down the list as well.

Not that I won’t put you all back on top if necessary, she said to herself later as she wearily kicked off her shoes in the foyer of the Alexandria house.

The second her bare feet touched the floor the phone rang. She considered not answering since she was so tired, but a glance at the caller ID told her it was Justin. She was answering before she even realized it.

“How’d it go today?”

“Just got home. I’m afraid I haven’t had the proper appreciation for you field guys,” she said.

“Well, that’s certainly true.” She could almost see him grinning, could almost see the dimple that slashed into his right cheek when he did.

“People complicate things. Forensics, physical evidence, is…not simpler, but cleaner somehow.”

“It doesn’t lie.”

“Exactly. And it doesn’t try to hide. If you can’t find it, you’re just not looking hard enough, or in the right place.”

“Welcome to my world,” he said. “You sound a bit weary of it all.”

“I am,” she admitted. “Exhausted.”

“People will do that do you,” he said, sounding annoyingly chipper. “But since you have the grace to admit that you’ve underestimated us field grunts, I’m going to reciprocate.”

“Reciprocate?” she asked, puzzled.

The door chimes rang—they were loud, to be heard throughout the large house—and drowned out whatever his answer had been.

“Hang on,” she said, “there’s someone at the door.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

Boy, I am tired, and apparently confused as well. He’s not even making sense to me, she thought as she walked back to the front door, glad she hadn’t sat down yet; she wasn’t sure she could have gotten up again.

“I know,” he repeated as she peered through the security peephole.

“Oh.”

She felt beyond silly. Not even the fish-eye lens of the peephole could totally distort Justin’s dark good looks. She pulled the door open to the sight of him standing on the porch, cell phone in one hand and a large bag in the other.

“Cute,” she said, disconnecting.

“I thought so.”

His smile was irresistible. “Not that it’s not good to see you,” she said, accepting the kiss he planted somewhere between her cheek and her right ear, “but…what are you doing here?”

He flipped his cell phone closed and held up the bag in his other hand. “Dinner. Chinese okay?”

The smell had hit her nose by then, a lovely, warm barrage of soy and spice and sweet, and her stomach lurched hungrily.

“Bless you,” she breathed fervently.

“I thought you might be glad not to cook tonight.”

“I’m always glad not to cook,” she pointed out as she stepped back to let him in.

“And I’m glad to let you,” he retorted, ducking her halfhearted swipe at him.

“I have other skills,” she said as she snatched the bag from him.

The familiar white cartons were stacked high, topped by a pile of napkins and plastic utensils and emitting those luscious aromas that made her stomach growl in anticipation yet again. She barely managed to stop herself from burying her face in the bag just to get a deeper whiff.

“Indeed you do,” he said. “And I hope to sample them all someday.”

Alex was glad she had her back to him, although she didn’t need to see his expression to know what it looked like. Not when his voice had gone so dark and smoky all of a sudden.

The Dark Angel speaks, she taunted silently, trying to chide herself into a cooler response.

It almost worked.

But then he stepped up behind her, put his hands on her shoulders and bent to gently kiss her neck. The shiver that went through her warned her yet again what she was likely in for should she ever—perhaps inevitably—give in and sleep with the guy.

Holy fireworks was all she could think of.

“I’m reading an awful lot into the shiver that just went through you,” Justin whispered.

That dark angel voice nearly made her shiver again. “I suppose saying I got a chill won’t work.”

Her irritation at herself for being unable to control her reaction to him echoed in her voice.

“Not a chance,” he said, his voice still soft, his breath still warm and making her skin—and other things—itch. She barely managed not to squirm, he was so close.

She twisted and ducked away from him. “Just what were you figuring I tipped for food delivery?”

He made no move to come after her, merely stood watching her with an expression she could only describe as amused. In a tone that sounded just as amused, as if it were the middle of some casual conversation, he said, “I’m very

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