The next session went better than the first. No one asked awkward questions about her abduction in relation to Makram Rafiq’s arrest. She got into the groove with Diana’s presentation materials now that she had one session under her belt. The third would be a snap.

She only had a fifteen-minute break between sessions two and three. She dashed to the ladies’ room. There was a line when she got there, but thankfully, it moved quickly. By the time she was done, the room was quieter.

She washed her hands and checked her makeup. After reapplying lipstick, she stared at her face in the mirror and breathed deeply. The scar on her forehead stood out in bright red on her pale skin. Over time, she imagined it would fade to white, but it was still fresh six months later.

Even with the scar, she looked so much like her mother.

After her mom died, her father would cup her cheeks, smile, then say, “It is my greatest joy that your mother lives on in you.” But in the weeks before his stroke, he would scowl as his finger touched the ugly red wound, the only visible evidence of her abduction. He didn’t say his thoughts aloud, but she knew him well.

“It’s not Freya’s fault, Dad.”

“She—and her whole family—were always trouble.”

Considering what had happened to Freya’s family, his words were downright cruel, and she had to wonder at what had made her once sweet father into a man with such a mean streak.

Maybe it was triggered by facing his own mortality. It was certainly fueled by fear for her.

She closed her eyes and took a final deep breath.

Today, I am a Valkyrie.

When she returned to the classroom, it was nearly full. She glanced at her watch and gave a small sigh of relief to see she had two minutes to spare.

She kept her head down as she traversed the center aisle to the front of the room, wading through a sea of camouflage.

One more class. Two hours. Then Malta, sunshine, and answers.

She fiddled with Diana’s lecture notes, hearing the low buzz of conversation as the last students filed in.

Her throat was dry, and she was glad to see the empty water bottle on the lectern had been replaced with a fresh one. She pulled up the spout and raised her head as she squeezed the bottle to fill her mouth.

That’s when she saw him. Sitting in the front row, just feet in front of her. Blond, blue-eyed, muscled perfection. Lieutenant Commander Randall Fallon.

The water hit her throat, and she choked, involuntarily spewing a geyser in his direction.

She coughed and clapped a hand over her mouth.

Drops of water dripped down his handsome face as he grinned. “Hello, Kira.”

Chapter Two

Rand was glad for Kira’s penchant for keeping her head down when entering a room. It had given him time to brace himself for her reaction to seeing him. He’d imagined this moment a thousand times in the last six months, but never envisioned this. Her invading his territory. On his base, teaching classes, looking every bit as sexy-librarian as she had six months ago.

He’d seen the posts about the hot teacher in one of the base chat groups and had been irritated but not surprised that Diana was being objectified by her students. Scrolling down further, he’d been stunned when the name of the substitute teacher was posted.

Now he knew why Chris was out on sick leave. And he finally had a chance to see Kira when she couldn’t turn him away.

He’d expected surprise, been braced for anger, hoped to see a kindle of excitement.

What he got was water in the face. Par for the course, really.

Her pale white skin flushed a bright red as she caught her breath and said, “Rand! Er…Lieutenant Commander Fallon. I’m so sorry! I didn’t expect to see you…”

She was adorable flustered. But then, after about ten minutes alone with her, he’d been smitten and thought she was adorable no matter what her mood or manner.

He wiped the drops of water from his face with a bandanna as he chuckled. To be fair, she’d barely splattered him. He deserved much worse.

He hated that she’d seen him with Staci, and later, he should’ve called her when her father died. But he couldn’t tell her what he believed her father had done, not when she was deep in grief. Failing to offer an explanation for his absence would hardly be a comfort.

“It’s good to see you, Kira.” He didn’t think he’d ever said truer words. The last time he’d looked into her eyes, her face had been swollen and her forehead split open. It was damn good to see her today, bruise-free.

He glanced around the room, which had gone silent at some point after Kira choked upon seeing him. “Er…I hope you don’t mind my crashing your class.”

Her gorgeous, long-lashed hazel eyes narrowed, but a smile tugged at her perfect red lips. She took a step toward him, but remained just out of reach. “This session is pretty basic for someone with your experience and type of deployment. I’m sure you know Diana will be teaching a more advanced class for Navy and Army special forces next month.”

That almost-smile was everything. He grinned back, feeling more confident by the moment. A lot of women found him attractive, and he was fairly certain Dr. Kira Hanson was within that Venn diagram. He dropped his voice to just above a whisper. “I don’t mind redundancy in education. SEALs are all about training and learning. We practice over and over, even when we have a skill down.”

Her face, which had returned to her natural pale peach, flushed again as she rolled her eyes. “Your choice, of course, but you’ll probably be bored.”

With Kira at the lectern? Never.

“Can we chat after class?”

She grimaced. “Actually, I’m on a tight schedule and need to hit the road.”

“Five minutes? Please?”

She huffed out a sigh. “Fine. But that’s all I can spare.” She glanced at her watch. “And I’m now running behind.” She turned and took her place at the lectern.

Rand settled into his front-row seat. After six months of wondering, waiting, and wanting, in two hours, he’d get a five-minute, private, face-to-face with Dr. Kira Hanson.

Kira smiled at the roomful of students who’d just witnessed her spew a mouthful of water on the commander of a Navy SEAL team.

Don’t try this at home, kids. I’m a professional.

But as usually happened in these sorts of situations, the ridiculousness of the moment took the edge off. Session one had been fine, two even better, but three… Well, she stuck the landing.

Or rather, since she was pinch-hitting, it was a home run.

Her ego appreciated that this was the session in which Rand was front row, center, even though she avoided his gaze the entire time. She was working. Dialed in. This was her forte.

The students laughed at her—or rather Diana’s—jokes, and where appropriate, Kira expanded on her expertise when it came to identifying fake provenance for potentially legal sales. Provenance traps were the bread and butter of forgers and fakers, and their prey ranged from big-cat super-rich collectors to tiny-kitten servicemen and women looking to bring home a souvenir from deployment.

She clicked to the slide that listed the fines and felony charges one faced when bringing looted artifacts into the US. “Nothing spoils a homecoming more than being arrested at the end of the gangplank.”