Fiancee for Hire (Front and Center)

Falling in love was never part of the plan…

Former Marine MacArthur Patton has made a small fortune on top-secret government contracts and black-ops missions, but his new

assignment involves something more dangerous—marriage.

Well, fake marriage anyway.

To keep weapons out of the hands of terrorists, Mac has to secure a fiancée. A sweet, demure, compliant fiancée to serve as his arm

candy for a few weeks while he completes the covert arms deal in Mexico. His sister claims to know just the woman, and sends her best

friend to play the role.

“Sweet” and “demure” aren’t in Kelli Landers’s repertoire. A badass veterinarian who neuters big dogs and bigger men on a regular

basis, she can’t wait to bring Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Detached to his knees. Her longtime crush on the commitment-phobe makes her plan to

seduce him even sweeter.

Love wasn’t part of the plan, but the deeper Mac and Kelli fall into their ruse, the more danger they attract, until more than just a

weapons deal is on the line…

dpgroup.org

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used

fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at

www.entangledpublishing.com

Lovestruck is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Heather Howland and Kari Olson

Cover design by Heather Howland

ISBN 978-1-63375-031-9

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition July 2014

Chapter One

Kelli Landers inked her signature on the prescription form, carefully dotting the i with a heart the way

she’d done since learning to spell her name at age four. She blew a corkscrew blond curl off her

forehead as she tucked the pen into the breast pocket of her pink scrubs.

“Here you go,” she chirped, her voice always a few octaves higher than she wished. She handed

the form to a man who had to reach down to grab it, given he was a foot taller than her.

The man blinked. “How the hell did you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Wrestle Rocco to the ground when he was snarling and fighting like that? He weighs a hundred

and fifty-five pounds.”

“A hundred and sixty-five, actually, which is ten pounds heavier than I’d like to see in an Italian

mastiff of his build.” Kelli paused to jot a few words on a notepad beside the clinic’s display of

Neuticles. She could feel the mastiff’s owner staring, and wondered if he was looking at her or at the

impressively large prosthetic dog testicles in the photo. She tore off the paper and handed it to him.

“Here’s the name of brand of dog food I recommend for trimming a few extra pounds. That and a little

exercise.”

“Exercise,” the man repeated, eyeing Kelli up and down. “You look like you work out.”

“Not really.”

“Huh.” He scratched his beard and nodded toward the Neuticles display. “Ever put the Saint

Bernard ones on a Chihuahua?”

“No.”

“Want to grab a bite to eat sometime?”

“No, thank you.” She offered her sweetest smile, but the mask was wearing thin.

The man leaned close, not getting the message. He gave her a lecherous wink and touched her arm.

“A little spitfire like you—how about we just get it on?”

Kelli jerked back, cherubic smile faltering. “I may look like a Cabbage Patch doll, but you should

know I have a pump-action shotgun, a black belt in karate, and a vibrator that doubles as a

jackhammer,” she replied, her voice still soft and bright. “If you’re not out of my office in ten

seconds, I will demonstrate all three on you, starting from the bottom of the list and working my way

up.”

The man blinked, opening and closing his mouth like a hooked fish. Without a word, he turned and

walked out, his horselike dog dragging him through the doors of the vet clinic. Kelli took a

halfhearted swipe at the dog slobber on her scrubs, then gave up as the front door chimed again.

She smiled with relief as her best friend strolled through sans dogs, cats, or kids.

“Hey, girl!” Kelli greeted, dodging Sheri Patton’s intended hug. “Might want to take a rain check on

that. I’m covered in slobber.”

“That makes two of us,” Sheri said, hugging her anyway. “There’s so much slobber on my shirt I

had to wring it out in the parking lot.”

“Are the twins teething, or is Sam drooling on your tits again?”

“Yes,” Sheri replied, affirmative on both counts. “The boys are actually with Sam and my brother

while I run a few errands.”

“Mmm, speaking of drooling.” Kelli heaved a dramatic sigh. “Which brother?”

“Mac. He’s back from his latest top-secret mission and en route to another.”

“Mr. Tall, Dark, and Completely-Detached-from-Humankind.” Kelli grinned. “My dream man.”

Sheri rolled her eyes. “Your dream man has been pissing me off.”

“Sounds par for the course. Come on, you can tell me whatever Mac’s done to piss you off while I

neuter Mr. Mittens.”

“Please tell me that’s a cat and not last night’s date,” Sheri said, following her into the back room.

“Don’t be silly. I neutered last night’s date right after dessert.”

Kelli began scrubbing up as Sheri parked herself as far from the surgical table as possible.

“I was just about to operate when a guy came in needing a sticker pulled from his dog’s paw, so I

have to get this neuter done before the anesthesia wears off,” Kelli said. “We can talk while I work.”

Sheri cocked her head and studied the cat. “He looks like a frat boy after an all-nighter in a karaoke

bar.”

“He’ll be singing soprano in about ninety seconds.” Kelli tugged on a fresh pair of gloves and got

to work plucking fur from the cat’s groin. “So, your brother—” she prompted, maneuvering deftly

around the cat’s fuzzy little scrotum.

“Right,” Sheri said, wincing. “Are you giving that cat a bikini wax?”

“We pluck, rather than shave cat scrotums for neutering. They’re too prone to razor burn. So your

brother—”

“Right, sorry,” she said as Kelli began swabbing the cat’s love spuds with disinfectant. “That’s

actually what I came here to talk about. You know how you’ve lusted after Mac since—well, um,

puberty?”

“Of course. Your brother is hot.”

“And you know how he’s barely aware you exist?”

Kelli picked up her scalpel and quirked an eyebrow at Sheri. “Are you planning to make a point

here?”

“Right. Yes, definitely.” Sheri cleared her throat as Kelli poised her scalpel for the first incision.

“Will you marry my brother?”

Kelli blinked, then slid her scalpel through the cat’s scrotum. “This is always how I imagined my

first marriage proposal.”

“I’m serious,” Sheri said as Kelli focused on the incision. “Well, sorta. See, Mac has this business

deal. And he needs a fiancée to pull it off. A fake fiancée. That’s where you come in.”

Kelli slid the cat’s testicles out, marveling for the millionth time that they were the exact size and

color of a pair of great northern beans. Maybe she should make white chili for dinner.

“What does Mac’s top-secret military bullshit have to do with marriage?”

“He can’t tell me much,” Sheri said, looking away as Kelli began tugging the testicle to break down

the ligament. “That’s the nature of top-secret military bullshit, as you put it.”

“I’m sure that’s what it says in the contract.”

“Right. Anyway, here’s what I know. Mac told a fib to land a deal. He said he has a fiancée, and

now he needs to produce one quickly so he can close the deal. You’d need to spend a couple weeks

in Todos Santos, Mexico. You’d attend a few functions, play the doting bride-to-be, collect a

ridiculous amount of money for your trouble, and say good-bye at the end of it.”

Kelli felt her heart kick up a notch. “Todos Santos?”

“You know it?”

She nodded, feeling a bubble of excitement low in her belly. “They’ve got an enormous feral cat

colony. I’ve always wanted to do a spay-and-neuter clinic there.”

“Really?”

“I even applied for the permits and made contact with some volunteers over there who could assist.

I just never had the time or the money or—”

“Money’s no object with Mac,” Sheri said, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s a private contractor

with a jillion government contracts and endless military resources. None of us are exactly sure what

he does, but it’s very lucrative.”

“He’s paying me to marry him?”

“To pretend to marry him. You’d be well compensated for your time if you’re willing to play the

fiancée role for a few weeks. You just need to be compliant, soft-spoken, beautiful, sweet, demure,

and drama-free.”

Kelli raised an eyebrow. “You’re aware you just gave a complete list of antonyms for my

personality.”

“Well, you are beautiful.”

“Thanks. It all sounds so romantic,” she deadpanned. “Will Mac throw in a ride on a white stallion

before we trot into the sunset to make beautiful babies and live happily ever after?”

“You’re allergic to horses, afraid of babies, and horrified by commitment.”

“Do I at least get to bang your brother?”

Sheri shrugged. “That’s up to you, I guess. And Mac. He made it clear this is strictly professional.”

Kelli looked down at the unconscious cat and frowned. “Something tells me your brother and I have

different notions of professional. What aren’t you telling me?”

Sheri was quiet a moment, then shrugged. “I think Mac is vaguely aware you exist, but only as the

pigtailed friend of his baby sister. He kinda hasn’t been around much since we were kids.”

“Absence makes the crotch grow fonder.”

“For you, maybe. As you pointed out, he’s a little detached from humanity. He’s never really

noticed you.”

“Thanks for the reminder.”

“Right. But what do men who don’t know you generally assume?”

Kelli maneuvered her hemostat in a figure eight to tie off the spermatic cord. “That I’m tiny, sweet,

docile, perky, quiet, and no trouble at all.”

“Exactly. It’s not ‘til they get to know you a little that they realize you’re a sharp-tongued, badass,

sex maniac.”

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all week.” Kelli beamed. “So let me get this straight—

you’re siccing me on Mac?”

“My brother has no qualms about meddling in my life. Doesn’t it seem fair I should meddle in his?”

Kelli smiled, recalling Mac’s under-the-table hiring of a marine sniper to be Sheri’s nanny. That

had worked out well enough in the long run, with Sheri and the manny now engaged.

But a fake fiancée?

The thought of seducing MacArthur was enough to leave Kelli tingling. She’d been lusting after him

forever, egged on by the challenge of his complete oblivion to her existence and the fact that Mac was

the only person on earth who seemed more incapable than she did of handling any sort of long-term

commitment.

Commitment leads to love, which leads to attachment, which leads to abandonment, which leads

to—

“So Mac is expecting sweet, calm, and pliable fiancée?”

Sheri nodded. “And instead we send him you.”

Kelli gave her most angelic smile and sliced off the cat’s testicles. “I’m in.”

…

Mac arranged the meeting for nine p.m. on a stretch of beach his sister assured him was secluded.

Even so, he’d spent an hour surveying the area spanning a thousand yards in each direction. Then he

devoted an hour to planting surveillance equipment around the perimeter, followed by two hours

performing a background check on Kelli Landers.

He’d met Kelli before, of course. He remembered her mostly as the little blonde who’d hung out

with his sister when they were growing up. Military ops and work missions had kept him out of the

country so much the last ten years that he hadn’t been around her much in adulthood. He’d run into her

a few times when he visited Sheri, but hadn’t made much effort to get to know her.

“You are the biggest dumbass when it comes to human relationships,” Sheri had told him when he

admitted all that over dessert at her place the night before. She’d shaken her head with a sad sort of

fondness and slugged him in the shoulder. “You keep everyone at arm’s length so emotions don’t get

in the way of your obsessive need to protect everyone.”

Mac had only shrugged and stood to go, stooping down to kiss the top of her head. “Make sure you

lock the door behind me.”

Not that there was anything inaccurate about his sister’s observation. It was true; he wasn’t too

keen on forming connections with anyone. He’d been that way forever. For years.

Thirty-one years, two months, and sixty-five days.

Mac swallowed back the memory and double-checked the time. Since that day, he’d poured

everything he had into making sure the bad guys never won again. At least not on his watch.

Mac heard footsteps in the sand and turned. He reached automatically to the pistol at his side, but

his hand froze when he saw her. She floated slowly down the beach toward him, her blond curls

fluttering on the night breeze. She wore a simple pink sundress with a ruffled hem and a scooped neck

that showed delicate curves. Her limbs were bare and slender, and the moonlight revealed a soft

spray of freckles across her nose. Mac smelled jasmine on the wind and resisted the urge to sigh.

Sweet, Mac decided. Everything about her seems sweet.

She smiled at him, and Mac felt an unfamiliar twist in his gut. He blamed it on the shrimp salad

he’d had for dinner as he stepped forward greet her. She drifted toward him, stopping scant inches

away. She was invading his personal space, but Mac didn’t move back. Instead, he held out his hand.

“Ms. Landers? It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Meet?” She raised an eyebrow at him as she tucked her small hand in his and gave a ladylike

shake. “We’ve met at least a hundred times, Mac. You put a Band-Aid on my knee when I was ten and

you were this big, cool high schooler whose kid sister’s friend tripped while chasing boys on the

playground.”

“Of course,” he said, his brain offering up no recollection of the Band-Aid but doing an impressive

job resisting the urge to let his eyes stray to her cleavage. “But we’ve never interacted under

professional circumstances related to the negotiation of a covert business deal pertaining to

international security.”

“Right,” she said, blinking up at him with eyes so startlingly blue they were almost turquoise. Mac

lost his breath for a moment and struggled to collect his thoughts.

“I almost didn’t see you dressed in all black,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear

color.”

“I prefer black.”

“And sunglasses? In the dark?”

“The lenses have a special coating that allows me to see at night.” He cleared his throat, not

entirely sure how they’d ended up discussing his fashion choices, but wanting to get back to more

comfortable territory. Like arms trading and terrorism. “Let’s talk about the business deal. You’ve

signed the confidentiality waiver?”

She slipped a hand into a pocket on the sundress, and Mac stepped back, braced for her to draw a

weapon. Instead, she produced a folded piece of paper and handed it to him.

“The waiver,” she said, eyeing him oddly as he took the form from her. His fingertips grazed the

back of her knuckles, and he felt a sharp sizzle of electricity. He drew his hand back and unfolded the

paper. He studied it a moment, then nodded and looked up at her.

“Your background check was clear. Let’s walk for a bit, shall we?”

Kelli shrugged, kicked off her flowery sandals, and crooked a dainty finger under the straps. She

hooked her arm through his and beamed up at him. “Lead the way.”

Startled by the unexpected physical contact, Mac fought the swell of lust surging through him. His

brain processed her words, mulling whether submissiveness or curiosity prompted the statement. A

submissive nature was ideal for this mission, but part of him hoped for curiosity. There was a quiet

wisdom about her. Certainly everything he’d researched about her academic and professional

achievements convinced him she was exceptionally intelligent.

You’re overthinking again , Mac warned himself as he turned and began walking along the beach

with Kelli’s arm tucked in his. As she fell into step beside him, Mac began to speak.

“As Sheri undoubtedly told you, the mission will take place in Todos Santos, Mexico. I understand

you’ve been?”

She nodded, her hair brushing his shoulder through his short-sleeved shirt. “A couple times for

vacation,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to return to head up a spay-neuter clinic.”

“Yes, my sister mentioned that.” He cleared his throat. “I also understand you speak Spanish fairly

well?”

“I minored in it as an undergrad before veterinary school.”

He nodded. “Your limited duties would allow you the freedom to pursue the veterinary effort.”

“Right.” Kelli kicked her bare foot through the sand, and Mac noticed her toenails were painted a

pale shell pink. “About those duties,” she said. “What can you tell me about the mission?”

She said the word with air quotes, a detail Mac found both endearing and irritating. “Have you

heard the name Pedro Ubano Trujillo Zapata?” he asked carefully.

“No. Though I appreciate the fact that his initials spell PUTZ.”

“You’ll want to refrain from pointing that out if you meet him.” Mac stopped speaking as he steered

her around a gnarly piece of driftwood. “Pedro is one of the most notorious crime bosses in Mexico.

Gangs, drugs, arms deals—he’s got a hand in all of it. The latter is of a particular interest to the U.S.

military.”

“Arms deals?” she repeated, sounding leery.

“The United States government is dedicated to keeping dangerous weapons out of the hands of

terrorists,” he said. “Zapata has a massive cache of stolen weapons he’s preparing to sell to the

highest bidder. The U.S. military has contracted with me to serve as one of those bidders. There’s

also another man vying for the weapons. Have you heard the name of Faouzi Ahmed Al-Zawahiri?”

“That sounds familiar. Was he the guy in that CNN special about the FBI’s most wanted terrorists?”

“He’s number one,” Mac said, pleased by her knowledge of current events. And by the way their

height difference allowed him to see down the front of her dress. But mostly by her knowledge,

dammit. “Obviously, it’s in everyone’s best interest if I obtain the weapons over Al-Zawahiri, and

I’ve been cleared to pay handsomely to make that happen.”

“So what’s the catch? I mean, why do you need me?”

Mac frowned. He’d rehearsed his answer to this question, but still felt embarrassed saying the

words aloud. “Zapata’s lovely young wife, Griselda, is a woman with whom I once had relations.”

“Ah,” Kelli said. “I see.”

“Her husband is mistrustful.”

“Got it.”

“The situation is rather delicate.”

Kelli nodded and stopped walking. She looked up at him with the moonlight casting a glow on her

soft features, and for an instant, Mac felt his heart stop.

“So you boned his babe, and he doesn’t trust you,” she said.

Mac blinked, taken aback by the blunt statement coming from those perfect pink lips. He nodded,

too flummoxed to reply right away.

“More or less,” he said at last, conscious of her hand on his arm. “Or more accurately, he doesn’t

trust her. Or at least he didn’t until I identified myself as a happily engaged man. At that point,

negotiations began to swing in my favor.”

“I see,” she said, trailing a toe through the sand as she began to walk again. Mac followed, not sure

how she’d taken the lead, but feeling no urge to take it back. “So what would I have to do?”

“Appear at several casual functions with Zapata and his wife,” he replied. “Remain smiling, silent,

sweet, and elegant. Play the role of the adoring fiancée.”

“How much adoration are we talking about?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Adoration.” Kelli looked up at him and smiled. “Am I looking at you like I appreciate the fact that

you pulled my chair out at dinner, or like you pulled my hair while doing me against a wall?”

He swallowed and pushed back the image her words painted in a dark corner of his mind. Christ,

she was something. “Uh, how about something in between?”

“Gotcha.”

Mac kept walking. There was one last thing he needed to say, but he wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

“Look, I need to make it clear up front that this is strictly a business arrangement. In real life, I’m

hardly the marrying type.”

“Are you always this romantic?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Kelli laughed. “Romance isn’t my specialty, either.”

He nodded, relieved at her response. “Any sort of emotional entanglement would compromise my

ability to protect you in that environment. Keeping you safe is a top priority. That, and securing the

arms deal, of course.”

“I understand completely.”

She didn’t. Not completely anyway, not the reason he’d always been this way. That was something

he didn’t talk about with anyone. Not ever.

They walked in silence for a moment, Mac conscious of her every footstep, every inhalation of

breath, every tickle of soft blond curls against the sleeve of his black linen shirt. He could tell she

was thinking and didn’t want to rush her. He glanced down at the sand and saw a flash of something

illuminated by moonlight.

He caught her around the waist, pulling her into his arms. She gave a soft squeak of surprise, but

came willingly, soft and fragrant and pliant against his body. He held her cradled to his chest, her feet

suspended in air, her breath warm on his throat, her curves soft and warm beneath her dress.

Her eyes met his, and something stirred in his chest.

“Glass,” he breathed, his face scant inches from hers.

“What?”

“You almost stepped on a broken bottle.”

“Oh.” Her eyes darted to the sand, then back to his. Her throat moved as she swallowed, and Mac

ached to kiss her there. “I see.”

He knew he should set her down, but hesitated. She felt so good in his arms. So warm and soft and

sweet and deliciously fuckable.

No. Keep this professional.

He kicked the bottle out of the way and set her on her feet. She blinked up at him, her expression

equal parts startled and intrigued. She licked her lips. “You could have just warned me.”

“Not my style.”

“I’m glad,” Kelli said, stooping to pick up the bottle, presumably so someone else didn’t step on it.

Conscientious of her.

She gazed up at him, her blue eyes pale in the moonlight. Mac resisted the urge to grab for her

again.

“I’ll do it on one condition.”

Chapter Two

Kelli stepped through the doors of the baggage claim area at the San Jose del Cabo airport and

straight into the arms of—well, not her dashing groom.

“Kelli!” squealed Anna Keebler, grabbing her friend in a bear hug so tight, Kelli felt all the air

leave her lungs. She hugged back, happy to have a friendly face greeting her the instant she set foot in

a foreign land.

Not that she would have minded Mac’s not-so-friendly face. Still it was good to see Anna.

“Hey, Anna,” Kelli said. “Thanks for coming.”

“I’m so happy to see you,” Anna gushed, stepping back and tucking strands of stick-straight auburn

hair behind her ears. A thick purple streak ran down the side just behind her ear, which was new.

Last time Kelli had seen her, it had been green. Somehow it looked perfect on Anna, a woman whose

entire career revolved around planning offbeat weddings.

“I couldn’t believe it when you called out of the blue like that to say you’re engaged,” Anna gushed.

“Has it really been a year since we’ve seen each other? I can’t wait to get started on your wedding.”

The words hit Kelli in the gut, and she felt a pang of guilt for lying to her friend. But this is what

she and Mac had agreed upon during their hasty strategy session.

“Your friend—the one who’s the wedding planner in Portland?” Mac had prompted, and Kelli

hadn’t bothered to hide her surprise he’d investigated her closest friends. “Get her out to Todos

Santos right away. Set up some wedding planning meetings someplace public. We need Zapata to see

us behaving like a normal engaged couple.”

Kelli had tried to point out that Anna didn’t really do normal—Anna’s Weird Weddings

specialized in Star Trek -themed ceremonies and receptions in which guests reenacted the battle of

Gettysburg—but Mac just shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. A wedding’s a wedding, and it’s important this look as authentic as possible when

Zapata’s spies start sniffing around. A real bride would go to her friend who’s a wedding planner for

this sort of thing, so that’s what you need to do.”

And Kelli hadn’t argued, eager as she was to seem agreeable and compliant, not to mention her

excitement at seeing the old pal she’d roomed with back in grad school. Mac had waved his magic

American Express wand, and Anna had boarded a plane for Mexico, arriving a day before Kelli.

“I’ve been e-mailing a bit with your groom,” Anna said, scooping up two pieces of Kelli’s luggage

and loading it onto a cart. “Stoic kind of guy, isn’t he?”

“You could say that.”

“You always did like them a bit detached. Honestly, I’m a little surprised you’re settling down.”

“Why’s that?” Kelli asked, hoping she hadn’t already blown her cover three minutes off the

airplane.

“It always seemed like you went for these unavailable guys who hated commitment as much as you

did. Like you figured if you didn’t get attached, you wouldn’t get hurt if he left the way your dad did

or like your mom—” Anna stopped, wincing. She squeezed Kelli’s hand and gave her an encouraging

smile. “Well anyway, obviously, I was wrong about that. I’m so glad you found the one.”

“Me, too!” Kelli said, trying to fix her face into the expressing of a glowing bride and not a woman

who’d just been unwittingly psychoanalyzed by one of her closest pals.

“Come on,” Anna said, steering her toward the doors. “It’s a two-hour drive to Todos Santos, and

we’re supposed to meet Mac for dinner at this great little restaurant near the beach.”

Kelli glanced at her watch, frowning. “So soon?”

“I guess he’s really eager to get started on the wedding plans.”

He’s really eager to have Zapata’s spies see us publicly planning a wedding , Kelli thought, but

grabbed the rest of her luggage and followed Anna out to her rental car.

They talked throughout the drive to Todos Santos, with Anna chattering happily about potential

wedding sites she’d scoped out. “He said money’s no object, so I’m coming up with a few different

options for themes and settings,” Anna said. “Have you guys set a date yet?”

“We’re still talking about it,” Kelli said, wishing Mac had spent more time briefing her on their

fake wedding and less time prepping her for how to react in a gun battle. Not that she wasn’t grateful,

but she hated the awkwardness of fibbing to a friend.

“How did you two meet, anyway?” Anna asked. “I wanted to pump him for details, but he didn’t

seem the type to cough up that sort of info.”

“Not unless you waterboard him,” Kelli said. She cleared her throat, reminding herself that Mac

had instructed her to stick as close to the truth as possible.

“This is why the plan works,” he’d coached. “It’s actually believable we’ve been smitten with

each other for years.”

No shit, Kelli thought, and smiled brightly for Anna.

“You met my friend Sheri, right? At that one party a few years ago—”

“Of course, right, the brunette? She had twins, didn’t she?”

“Exactly. Anyway, Mac is her older brother. We’ve known each other forever, and I always had a

bit of a crush on him.”

Anna grinned and banked left to avoid hitting a tumbleweed blowing across the desert landscape.

“So Sheri set you up?”

“Something like that,” Kelli said. “It was kind of a whirlwind engagement, to be honest.”

“You’re not knocked up, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“So how did he propose?”

Kelli bit her lip. She’d pictured a million scenarios with Mac over the years. Mac tied to her four-

poster bed licking her nipples. Mac pressing her up against the kitchen counter and taking her from

behind. Mac ravaging her on a beach with waves crashing around them and the hot sun beating down

on their naked flesh.

But never this. Never a proposal.

“We were walking on the beach in Kauai just after sunset,” Kelli said, sticking as close to the truth

as she could. “And he pretended he was bending down to pick up a bottle I was about to step on, but

instead he got down on one knee.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“What did he say?”

Kelli swallowed, wishing like hell she were a better liar. “Well, since he was eye level with my

tits at that point, he said he wanted to spend the rest of his life admiring them, along with the rest of

my body, mind, and soul. Then he asked me to marry him. After that, we had sex on the beach and I

spent the next two days digging sand out of my butt crack.”

“That’s weirdly romantic,” Anna said. “I can’t wait to meet this guy in real life.”

You and me both , Kelli thought, wondering why she’d never really gotten to know Mac in all these

years of crushing on him.

“Let’s see the ring!” Anna demanded.

“Oh. Uh, I actually don’t have it yet. Everything happened so fast with the proposal, but Mac said

he picked something out at a jeweler down here. We’re going to pick it up tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait to see it. I’m sure it’s gorgeous.”

“Gorgeous,” Kelli parroted, making a mental note to discuss jewelry with her bogus betrothed.

“This is the place,” Anna said, pointing to a sunny stucco building on the right-hand side of a tree-

lined street. “Oh! Parking spot right up front. That’s a good-luck sign, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” Kelli agreed, thinking she needed all the luck she could get. She opened her car door

and stepped out into the bright Mexico sun.

She was used to heat, living in Hawaii for the last five years, but this was a dry heat. A desert heat,

though she could smell saltwater on the air and hear mariachi music somewhere in the distance. Anna

led the way into the restaurant with Kelli plodding behind, feeling a bit like an accessory instead of

the bride.

She spotted him in the far corner of the sunny outdoor patio and her heart clenched. He wore black

—of course—though in deference to the weather, the short-sleeved shirt looked like lightweight silk

and his trousers were linen. The ever-present sunglasses were in place, and his hair looked freshly

cut. He had his back to the stone wall and an equally stony expression on his face.

The expression didn’t change as the two of them approached the table. “Mac?” Anna said,

extending her hand. “Such a pleasure to finally meet you. So sorry we’re late.”

“Ladies,” Mac said, standing to shake Anna’s hand before reaching for Kelli’s. She frowned,

wondering if he really intended to greet his fiancée with a businesslike handshake. Perhaps sensing

her discomfort, Mac took her hand and pulled her close, embracing her in a way that almost seemed

warm.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured. “So good to see you.”

His body was hard and hot and solid against hers, and Kelli couldn’t resist the urge to press herself

closer, sliding one hand down to give his backside a familiar squeeze. She felt him stiffen and smiled

to herself, pressing her breasts snug against his chest. She tilted her head back and smiled up at him

with her most angelic expression.

“I missed you, Honeybear.”

“You, too—uh—Cupcake.”

“Aren’t you two just adorable,” Anna said, pulling out a chair and sitting down. She tucked a hunk

of hair behind her ear, the purple streak glinting pleasantly in the sun.

Kelli still hadn’t taken her hand off Mac’s ass.

He drew back, and Kelli felt chilled, still craving the feel of his body against hers. Instead, he

pulled out a chair and gestured Kelli into it.

The perfect gentleman, Kelli thought glumly, wishing he would have at least copped a feel.

Mac sat down beside her, close enough she could still feel the heat of his body. She rested her arms

on the table, deliberately crossing her legs so her bare toes grazed his shin through his pants.

“Let’s get started, shall we?” Anna asked, opening up a notebook. “As you both know, my specialty

is in offbeat weddings, but I understand from Mac that you’re looking for something a bit more

traditional?”

“Traditional,” Kelli repeated, glancing at Mac. His expression was unreadable behind those damn

dark glasses, so she looked back at Anna. “Well, yes. Mac does like things to be just so.”

“Of course,” Mac agreed, leaning back in his chair in a pose his sister called Commander of the

Universe behind his back. “We’re thinking something simple, elegant, demure, understated, sweet.

Just like Kelli.”

Mac smiled at her, clearly thinking he’d paid her a compliment. Across the table, Anna choked on

her ice water.

“Kelli?” she gasped. “Sweet and demure?” She glanced from Mac to Kelli and back again as

though waiting for the punch line.

Kelli kicked her under the table, hoping Anna wouldn’t tell the story about the cowboy bar when

Kelli rode the buckin’ bronc topless while three guys with Nerf rifles—

“I think what Mac is saying,” Kelli said, nudging Anna with her toe again, “is that we want

something classy.”

“Classy,” Anna repeated, still looking at Kelli like she had ferrets coming out her ears. “Got it.

Okay then, here are a few locations I’ve been looking at for the two of you.” She spread an array of

snapshots on the table, each marked with information about cost and the number of people it could

accommodate. “This one right here has stunning views of the ocean, while this one has on-site

catering that’s magnificent.”

“Very nice,” Kelli said, admiring the landscaped grounds and trying to think of an appropriately

bride-like observation. “The statue in that fountain looks very well-endowed.”

Anna cocked her head as she studied the photo again. “Yes, I suppose he does. We could put pants

on him if you think guests would be offended.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“What about that spot on the cliff?” Mac asked, smiling at Kelli with what she assumed was

supposed to be the look of a doting groom who wanted the very best for his bride. He looked more

like a lion eyeing a tasty gazelle covered in chocolate syrup. Kelli swallowed. He put his hand on her

knee, and the possessiveness of the gesture made her skin buzz pleasantly.

Mac looked back at Anna, who was clicking her pen the way she often did when anxious. “The

place on the cliff,” he repeated. “The one I sent you the link to yesterday?”

“Yes, well, it’s very lovely, but I thought with Kelli’s intense fear of heights—”

“It’s fine, really,” Kelli said, hurrying to cover Mac’s misstep. “I’m totally over that.”

“You are?” Anna asked, looking dubious. “But it was only a year ago you refused to go up the

Space Needle with me on that girls’ trip to Seattle.”

“Intense hypnosis,” Mac said. “Very effective in curing phobias.”

“Absolutely,” Kelli agreed, steeling a glance at her groom. His hand was still on her knee, and she

willed it to slide higher. “Hypnosis is excellent for all kinds of phobias. It worked wonders for

Mac’s aulophobia. And you wouldn’t believe what a severe case of helmintophobia he was dealing

with until Dr. Hillman got a hold of him.”

Mac frowned, and Kelli wished like hell she could see behind his sunglasses. He had beautiful

eyes, large and brown and much warmer than she ever would have guessed.

“Er, right,” Anna said, looking baffled. “Okay then, we’ll take a look at that spot on the cliff later

this week. In the meantime, do you two want to talk about cake?”

“Lemon,” Kelli said. “Definitely lemon with buttercream frosting.”

“But only on half,” Mac added. “I’m allergic to lemon.”

“Of course, dear,” Kelli said, feeling her stomach sink as she reached over and patted his hand. “I

was just talking about the top tier. The one couples stick in the freezer to eat on their first anniversary

but end up throwing away because who the hell wants to eat year-old frozen cake?”

“There’s a local baker who makes some really unique creations,” Anna offered. “There’s this one

with glorious chocolate fondant and three tiers with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and—”

“No,” Mac interrupted, his voice so sharp Kelli felt her heart stutter. “No Reese’s Peanut Butter

anything.” He pulled his hand from her knee, and Kelli’s skin went cold.

She nodded in what she hoped was a show of support as the hair on her arms prickled. What the

hell was that about?

“So—vanilla?” Anna said helpfully. “Or maybe Dutch chocolate. If you’d like, I can arrange a cake

tasting for you at one of the bakeries in Todos Santos, though there’s a really good one in Cabo if

you’re up for a bit of a drive.”

“That would be great,” Kelli said, glancing at her stone-faced groom. “Since we have to go there

anyway to pick up my ring.”

“Ring,” Mac repeated, nodding. “Right, of course. Gotta pick out a ring.”

“For him,” Kelli said, kicking Mac under the table. “We haven’t talked about Mac’s wedding band

yet, but obviously I’m excited to see the ring he’s chosen for me at the jeweler down here.”

“Right,” Mac agreed, giving Kelli a light kick of his own. She looked up and caught a glimpse of

his eyes beneath the sunglasses. He was scanning the room, and she watched as his gaze settled on a

nearby table and narrowed.

She resisted the urge to look.

Zapata’s spies. We’re being watched.

A shiver rattled down her spine. “Of course, our schedule is a little busy,” Kelli said, doing her

best to project a perky and carefree demeanor. “Mac has a lot of meetings planned in the coming

weeks, and I’ll be busy setting up the spay-and-neuter clinic.”

“That’s right, you told me!” Anna said, folding her hands on the table. “It sounds like quite a

project. Were you able to make contact with some of the local clinics to round up volunteers?”

“Yes, Mac was a big help with that.” Kelli glanced at her faux groom, feeling genuinely grateful.

“We’ve got a surgical facility secured, and we received an anonymous donation of supplies.”

Mac nodded, acknowledging nothing, though Kelli knew damn well he was behind the donation.

There were definite upsides to having a controlling man with a mysterious occupation and

exceptionally deep pockets.

“So when do you start snipping?” Anna asked.

“I go in at noon tomorrow to meet the crew and develop a game plan for trapping and releasing the

cats. It’s important to return them to their original colonies following the neuter to avoid territorial

fighting.”

“That’s so great you’re doing that,” Anna said. “And what will you do with your practice in Kauai

once the two of you tie the knot?”

Kelli swallowed, not sure how Mac wanted her to answer that. “Well—”

“She’s keeping her practice,” Mac said. “Kelli worked hard to build that clinic, and since my job

keeps me traveling so much, it makes sense for her to keep her home base in Hawaii.”

“Exactly,” Kelli said, inexplicably relieved at the idea that her imaginary marriage offered plenty

of space and breathing room. “And if it’s too difficult for us to be apart, I can take on a partner to run

things in Kauai while I travel with Mac and do clinics around the world.”

Anna beamed. “That’s wonderful. Sounds like you two will be very happy. So do you want to try to

squeeze in a trip to the bridal boutique in the morning? I can make some calls and have them set aside

some dresses in your size.”

Kelli looked at Mac, expecting him to tell her that wouldn’t be necessary.

“That would be great,” he said. “Sweetie, are you still thinking about something with all those

buttons up the back?”

“Buttons,” Kelli replied. “Right. All the better to keep my groom from getting his hands on me too

soon.”

She gave him a flirtatious wink and wished for anything but that.

…

They bid farewell to Kelli’s friend at the curb, and Mac led his fake fiancée to the Town Car he’d

parked in back of the building. He glanced from side to side, alert to potential threats. He had

bodyguards stationed at two corners of the parking lot, but still felt tense. The pistol on his hip gave

him some comfort, but he was aware that danger hovered everywhere.

Especially in his bride’s delectable cleavage.

When Kelli reached for the car door, Mac touched her arm to stop her.

“Wait,” he ordered.

She stepped back and blinked. Mac was still touching her arm, and it took all the strength he had to

drop his hand and begin a slow inspection of the vehicle. He circled cautiously, stooping down to

check the undercarriage, then the wheel wells.

“Are you looking for bombs?” Kelli whispered.

Mac looked up and realized he had a lovely view straight up her skirt.

Probably should spend a little more time on the ground performing a really thorough

inspection.

“Bombs,” Mac repeated, shaking his head to clear it. Distraction wasn’t an option on this mission.

“Bombs or tracking devices.”

Or those gorgeous, sun-kissed legs curving up under that thin little skirt to a pair of lush, warm

thighs that would feel amazing wrapped around—

He straightened up on the passenger side and reached across Kelli to open her door. “Darling,” he

prompted, and handed her inside. She smiled at him, and Mac had to resist the urge to stroke her hair.

As soon as they were both in the vehicle and safely buckled, he turned to her. “Thank you for

accepting my proposal.”

“You must say that to all your brides.”

“No, I meant business proposal. Well, and the engagement.” He frowned, realizing he was handling

this rather awkwardly. “As you might imagine, this is much different from my usual missions.”

“You don’t say.”

“I’m ordinarily on much more familiar ground with things like illegal arms deals and tactical

military missions.”

“Not so much with wedding cakes and bridal lingerie?”

Her tone was teasing, and he allowed himself a small smile. “Not so much.”

“Were we being watched in the restaurant?”

“Yes. Two of Zapata’s men were at a table about twenty feet away.”

He started the car, relived when nothing exploded. It was always a risk in his line of work. They

rode in silence for a while, with Mac acutely aware of her beside him looking sweet and soft in a

pale pink silk top and white linen skirt. He smelled jasmine again, and wondered if it was her

perfume or her natural fragrance. He thought about asking, but that seemed too personal.

You’ve asked her to be your fake fiancée, he chided himself. That’s pretty fucking personal.

No, it was a business arrangement, pure and simple. It made sense, having someone who’d been

close with his family. Sheri had vouched for her, which meant a lot.

If Zapata’s men checked into it, they’d learn he’d been in close contact with Kelli for years. Not

that Mac remembered her much. On the rare occasions he’d bumped into a grownup version of Kelli,

he’d hardly had time to notice her.

He was noticing her now, acutely aware of the way her skirt rode up as she uncrossed and

recrossed her legs. Her blouse was modest, nothing overtly sexy about it, but something in the way it

draped over her smooth curves made him ache to see what was under it. Would her bra match her

panties? Bikini, he guessed, maybe pink. That seemed like the sort of woman she was, sweet and

modest and classy.

You don’t know shit about this woman, his subconscious chided.

“I know a lot about you,” he blurted, feeling dumb the second the words were out of his mouth.

“I’ve had private investigators tracking down every detail about you, from your childhood to your

college years and beyond.”

She blinked at him, looking perplexed. “A couple phone conversations with me wouldn’t have

sufficed?”

“Right,” he said. “I was being efficient.”

“That’s how every woman wants to be swept off her feet.”

They fell silent again, Mac trying to think of something to say.

This is a business relationship. You don’t need to make small talk.

“What’s aulophobia?” he asked. “And helmintophobia? Those things you said to Anna back at the

restaurant.”

Kelli smiled, and straightened the hem of her skirt. “Aulophobia is a fear of flutes. Helmintophobia

is a fear of being infested with worms.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope.”

“How the hell did you know that?”

She looked out the window, and for a moment, he saw two frown lines between her brows. Then

they vanished, and Mac considered the possibility he’d just imagined them.

“My mother was—um, different.”

“Different?”

“She had a number of mental-health issues.”

“I see. She died when you were fifteen, right?”

She looked over at him, startled, and he felt the urge to apologize. “I’m sorry. It was in the report

from the private investigators.”

“Right. Yes, well, then you may or may not know my mother was crazy as a bedbug, which is part

of why my father left when I was eight.”

“And you were raised in a series of foster homes, correct?”

“Yes. Then I graduated from high school and went on to college and vet school and lived happily

ever after.”

There was something wistful in her words, something that made him turn to look at her. She smiled,

her eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, but he noticed her hands had clenched into fists.

“Your mom—was she violent?”

“No, not violent. Just highly delusional. She suffered from all kinds of paranoia, which is how I

know so much about it. She battled chronic depression, and I suspect she would have been diagnosed

as bipolar if she’d bothered to go to the doctor. Meds probably could have helped, or therapy, but she

refused both.”

“I’m sorry,” he said lamely, feeling stupid for repeating such a banal phrase.

“It’s okay.”

It wasn’t, not really, but he didn’t know what else to say. “Here we are,” he announced, then turned

to watch her face as he pulled into the driveway of the villa.

She pulled off her sunglasses and he watched her eyes go wide as she took in the massive stucco

walls, the tasteful ironwork, the artful cobblestone driveway, and the views of the sparkling Pacific

on the horizon.

“It’s beautiful,” she breathed, reaching for her door handle. “You live here?”

“Part-time,” he said. “My work takes me all around the world, but I’ve had several missions in the

area these last few years, what with the drug wars and gang slayings. The U.S. military has quietly

increased its presence throughout the country as things have escalated.”

She nodded as though only partly hearing him and opened the door, stepping out onto the

cobblestone driveway. The ocean breeze fluttered her skirt and her hair, making Mac ache to gather in

her arms the way he had on the beach.

He settled for gathering her luggage. As if on cue, his personal assistant—a former Marine named

Brian—came hustling out to help.

“Sir, let me get that,” he said, pushing a wheeled cart up to the car. “Ma’am, how was your flight?

Oh, and congratulations. Both of you.”

Kelli beamed, then looped her arm through Mac’s in a way that sent his pulse thudding in his ears.

“Darling,” Kelli said, smiling up at him so sweetly his teeth ached. “You’ve been talking about me?”

“I wanted the household staff to know you’d be here making plans and getting ready for our

wedding. Everyone’s been informed to do whatever you need, whenever you need it. Come on, let me

show you the house.”

He led her up the walkway as she cooed over the flowers and cactus garden. He opened the door,

feeling strangely nervous all of a sudden.

“Señor!” Maria gushed, swooping in to give him a big hug. “You bring her here at last!” She zeroed

in on Kelli and crushed her in a huge hug. “Señorita, you are every bit as beautiful as I expected.”

“Thank you,” Kelli said, beaming at Mac. “I look forward to getting to know you.”

Mac nodded, not entirely sure whether she was speaking to Maria or him.

Maria gripped Kelli’s hands and smiled. “I let you get settled and then you come tell me what you

like for dinner, sí?”

“Sí,” Kelli agreed as Maria bustled off toward the kitchen.

Across the dining room in the study, Mac spotted Hank, his second-in-command. Hank waved, then

gestured to the phone held against his ear. Kelli turned and looked at Mac.

“You have a lot of people here.”

“Yes.” He lowered his voice. “And don’t think for a moment they aren’t watching.”

He meant it as a warning not to let her guard down, not to trust anyone with their secret, with the

details of their plan. Instead, she looked up at him with a saucy expression.

“Well then, don’t you think you ought to kiss me?”

“What?”

She took a step closer, her cheeks flushed, and grabbed the front of his shirt with her pink-tipped

fingers.. “Sure, honey. We’ve been apart for weeks, and obviously we can’t keep our hands off each

other.”

Mac glanced toward the kitchen, where Maria was busy polishing a granite countertop that sure as

hell didn’t need polishing. Across the hall in the office, Hank adjusted the phone against his ear. From

his peripheral vision, Mac saw Brian moving toward the house towing a wheeled cart loaded with

luggage.

Mac looked down at Kelli. Her features were fixed in an angelic smile, but there was something

else in her eyes. Something daring him to kiss her, to make it clear to the household staff that this

engagement was no act.

“My pleasure,” he said, meaning it more than she probably realized.

He pulled her to him, and she blinked with surprise, stumbling. He caught her in his arms, molding

her body against his as she tilted her face up to look at him. Her eyes were wide and her cheeks

flushed, and he felt a surge of lust as he lowered his lips to hers.

She froze at first, and Mac wondered if he’d gone too far, too fast. Then she kissed him back, her

lips parting as she gave a soft moan in the back of her throat.

He pulled her tighter against him, marveling at how tiny she felt in his arms, how soft. He didn’t

want to crush her, but couldn’t fight the urge to push her back against the wall of the foyer. She

stiffened, pressing against his chest. His fingers tangled in her hair and he tipped her head back to

deepen the kiss. He pushed her toward the wall again, and this time she went willingly, arching her

body against his as her shoulders bumped the stucco wall. He slid one hand to the small of her back,

curving her pelvis against his. His body responded, and he wanted her so badly his brain screamed

with it. He kissed her harder, cupping her face with his free hand to angle her against him.

He felt her hips swivel, felt her moving against him in a way that left him wondering if he’d

seriously misjudged this woman. There was a fire behind the serenity, a passion behind the

sweetness. Mac slid his hand up, traveling the silky smoothness of her back and around the side to

graze her breast. Christ, she wasn’t wearing a bra? He traced the underside of her breast with his

thumb as her leg twined around his.

His other hand had a mind of its own, finding its way to the back of her thigh beneath her skirt. His

palm slid up, up, up—

Kelli gasped, breaking the kiss. Those turquoise eyes held equal parts shock and desire.

The desire pulled him in, but the shock made him take a step back. He cleared his throat. His left

hand still curved around a bare ass cheek that definitely wasn’t hidden beneath demure bikini panties.

It was thong or nothing. Mac felt a surge of heat in his groin. He stared into her eyes, refusing to blink.

He moved his mouth to her ear, wanting to make damn sure she couldn’t miss his words.

“Don’t think I won’t do whatever I need to do to make this cover story believable for everyone,” he

whispered.

She shivered in his arms and drew back, looking at him with those crystal-blue eyes. “Everyone?”

The challenge was back in her eyes, and Mac fought the urge to take her up against the wall.

“Everyone,” he repeated, afraid of just how true that was.

“In that case, why don’t you show me to our bedroom?”

Chapter Three

Kelli held her breath as she waited for Mac to process her words. His palm still cupped her ass, and

her fingers were still twined under his belt.

“Our bedroom,” he repeated.

“Yes,” she murmured, her heart slamming heard against her ribs. “Or am I saving myself for our

wedding night?”

Something flashed in his eyes, and Kelli tightened her grip on his belt, drawing him closer. Was

that a gun holstered on his hip, or—

“Later,” he said, sliding his hand from beneath her skirt. “We have work to do.”

“Work?”

“Let’s not forget, this is a business arrangement, Ms. Landers. My ability to carry out this mission

and keep you safe hinges on my ability to remain focused and undistracted.”

Kelli swallowed, chiding herself for missing the warmth of his palm on her ass. “Here’s a tip—

most men address their fiancé by her first name.”

“Duly noted.” Mac took another step back, regaining control of the situation or at least himself. “I

also noted that we did not do a very convincing job of knowing one another in our debut as a couple.”

She grimaced. “Lemon allergy, huh?”

“Intense fear of heights?”

“Right.” He took a deep breath. “Come.”

I was just about to, if you’d kept grinding on me like that, Kelli thought, but allowed him to tow

her away from the door and through the kitchen.

She surveyed the elaborate kitchen with granite counters and gleaming appliances. Maria smiled as

they passed, but said nothing. There was a massive teak dining table to the left of the kitchen, and

beyond that, a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking a kidney-shaped pool done in turquoise

tile. She longed for a dip in the water, or at least a shower after her long flight from Hawaii, but Mac

had other ideas.

He pulled her into an office where a tall man with a buzz cut was just hanging up the phone.

“Sir,” he said by way of greeting.

“Hank. I’d like you to meet my fiancée, Kelli Landers.”

Kelli stuck her hand out, feeling a little like a trained seal. “Pleasure to meet you.”

“Hank is my closest ally and second-in-command,” Mac said. “We served in the Marines together

years ago before I started my company.”

Hank nodded at her, then looked back at Mac. “Zapata wants you to have dinner at his place

Wednesday evening.”

“The day after tomorrow.” Mac frowned. “Dinner party?”

“No. Just the two of you. And your wives.”

At the word wives, Kelli stiffened. She was being thrown into the deep end. Mac just nodded, then

looked at Kelli.

“I look forward to having you meet one of my business colleagues, sweetheart.”

“I’d love nothing more,” Kelli said, thinking of at least three dozen things she’d love more,

beginning with an appendectomy.

Hank studied her, his pale blue eyes boring into hers in a way that made Kelli shiver. She held his

gaze, determined to hold up under his military-like scrutiny.

Hank looked back at Mac. “Would you like to go over those briefings now?”

“How about after dinner?” Mac asked. “Right now, I’d like to spend a little time with my fiancée.”

“Very well. In that case, I’m running over to the base for a few hours. Need anything?”

“No thank you.”

As soon as Hank retreated, Mac turned and locked the door. Kelli frowned at him. “Base? There’s

no military base in Mexico.”

“Correct.”

He supplied no further information, and she couldn’t resist the urge to probe. “I understand

whatever it is you do is secretive,” she said. “But don’t you think your fiancée should at least know

the basics?”

He shook his head. “You know I handle contracts for the U.S. military on operations that are—shall

we say, a bit outside the box. That’s all you need to know. Part of minimizing the risk to you is

minimizing your connection to my business.”

“And to you, personally?”

“Precisely.”

“Fine.” Kelli sat down in a plush chair and glanced through the half-tilted blinds to the sparkling

ocean view beyond. “But I do think we both need to know more about one another if we’re going to

pull off this engagement story.”

“My thoughts exactly,” he said, striding around the desk to a chair on the opposite side. He reached

into a drawer and pulled out an army-green file folder. After pushing it across the desk toward her, he

steepled his hands and waited for her to open it.

She hesitated, then flipped open the cover. A stack of papers an inch thick greeted her, with neat

lines provided for handwritten responses. She scanned the words on the pages and realized it was

some sort of questionnaire.

Catalog your academic history.

List all members of your immediate family, along with ages and occupations.

Describe any food allergies.

She looked up at him. “You want me to fill this out?”

He nodded. “I’ve already gathered much of it through private investigators, but it seems prudent to

ensure I have all the information precise.”

“You’re filling this out, too?”

He pushed a second folder across the desk and nodded. “All my answers are filled in. You’ll be

studying this over the next twenty-four hours and will be drilled on responses throughout the

following days until you have it committed to memory.”

She blinked, then shook her head. “If I miss a question, will you punish me?”

A faint smile crossed his face, and he pressed his palms flat against the desktop. “I’ll do whatever I

need to.”

She felt a sizzle of lust arc through her body, and she looked away from his hands, trying to regain

control of herself. Of the situation. She opened his file folder and began to read. “A graduate of

Hawaii State University, a degree in political science, six foot two with black hair and brown eyes.”

She glanced up at him. “Not that I ever see them.”

“What?”

She closed the folder and looked at him. “I’ll fill out your forms, and I’ll study yours. But don’t you

think we need to get a little more—personal?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “The kiss in the foyer wasn’t personal enough for you?”

Kelli swallowed, her lips still tingling from that kiss. “It was a very nice performance, but only the

tip of the iceberg. Engaged couples share intimate details about themselves. Not just where you grew

up and where you went to school, but the name of your childhood teddy bear and how old you were

when you lost your virginity.”

Mac quirked one eyebrow. “Bingo. Seventeen. You?”

“Maple Syrup Florida Green Bear. Sixteen. Favorite color?”

“Black.”

“Of course. I like pink.” She licked her lips. “Favorite sex position?”

“I like being on top.”

“So do I.”

She let that hang between them a moment, waiting for his response. At last, he nodded.

“Fine. Now can we focus on the questionnaires?”

Kelli rolled her eyes. “I’m serious, Mac. We need to know this stuff. This is what couples in real,

human relationships do.”

“Grill each other on the names of their teddy bears?” Mac shook his head. “I’m quite certain that

Zapata will not be asking that of either of us. Now if you’ll turn to page—”

“Who was she?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“The girl you lost your virginity to.”

“This is relevant how?”

“Because this is the sort of thing a woman wants to know of her fiancée. Was it love, or a fling?

Was your heart broken, or was it a notch on your belt? Was it a successful endeavor, or did you shoot

your load on her leg before you got the condom on?”

“Why on earth—”

“Because women want to know where they stack up,” she interrupted, not entirely sure why this

mattered so much to her, but certain it did. “We want to know how we compare and deep down; we

all want to know that even if we weren’t your first, we were your best, your turning point, your most

meaningful, your everything.”

“For crying out loud, Kelli.” He ran his hands through his hair, looking exasperated, and she felt a

twinge of triumph.

“Fine,” he said. “Her name was Sarah, and it was at a party before my senior year in high school.

She wanted a relationship, but I wasn’t ready. We lost touch not long afterward, and while the

experience was perhaps more hurried than I prefer these days, I can assure you my performance was

respectable.”

Kelli sat back in her chair, feeling strangely satisfied. “There. Was that so hard?”

He shook his head. “Now I’m supposed to ask you the same questions?”

“No. Men in committed relationships don’t want to know details.”

“What?”

“You might care what sort of car my last boyfriend drove or what sort of annual salary he had, but

you do not want any details about my previous sex life.”

Mac folded his arms over his chest with a look of exasperation. “Okay then, since you’re

apparently the expert on male-female relations, tell me what our sex life is like.”

“Our sex life?”

“We’re engaged, aren’t we? Do I take you hard and dirty from behind against the bedroom wall

with your wrists pinned over your head, or do you like it slow and sweet and soft with the curtains

open and the ocean breeze cooling the sweat between your breasts?”

She opened her mouth to reply and found her lips suddenly didn’t work. The image he’d just

created was burned into her brain, and it was all she could do to keep from crawling into his lap.

“I—uh—”

“Come on now,” he goaded. “I assume you aren’t saving yourself for our wedding night?”

She pressed her lips together. “Maybe I am.”

He was silent a moment, digesting this possibility. Kelli gave him her most angelic smile and

crossed her legs primly.

“I see,” Mac said. “Very well, I’ll have your things set up in the guest room adjacent to the master

suite. It’s probably best that way, ensuring we keep things as professional as possible.”

Shit, Kelli thought, fighting the urge to tell him she’d only been kidding, and that she’d love nothing

more than to crawl into bed with him and do crazy things. She swallowed and stood, collecting the

file.

“The guest room will be fine.”

“Okay then,” Mac said. “If we’re finished here, you can get started on the questionnaire.”

Kelli stood and nodded once, feeling all at once indignant and turned on. She twisted the doorknob

and flounced out of the room with no earthly idea where she was headed.

Par for the course.

…

Kelli woke to the sound of her iPhone playing “Here Comes the Bride.”

Anna’s ringtone.

“Hello?” she grumbled, propping herself in bed.

“Hey, sleepyhead. Ready to try on wedding gowns?”

“What time is it?”

“Eight a.m. local time. Are you seriously just waking up?”

“Yes.” Kelli rubbed her eyes, dumbfounded to realize she’d just slept for more than twelve hours.

True, she’d awakened several times in the night. The first time she’d glanced out the window to see

two armed men patrolling the windows and balcony of her room.

The second time she’d heard footsteps in the hallway and peered through the keyhole to realize

Mac himself was standing guard.

These guys gave a whole new meaning to security.

“Long night, huh?” Anna teased, jarring Kelli back to the conversation. “I hear ya. First time you

and Mr. Hottie McFrowny have seen each other in weeks. I assume he kept you up all night playing

hide the sausage?”

“Pretty much,” Kelli said.

Assuming “hide the sausage” is code for filling out endless piles of paperwork and falling

asleep on page thirty-seven of the history of Mac’s former military career.

Since she couldn’t say that out loud, she settled for throwing her legs over the edge of the bed and

staring out the window at the Pacific Ocean. “Do we have an appointment this morning to try on

wedding gowns?”

“Nine o’clock. How about I come get you in ten minutes and take you the bridal salon.”

“Deal. Bring coffee, okay?”

“See you soon.”

Kelli trudged off to the bathroom and took a quick shower. She pulled on a simple, pale pink

sundress and a pair of white leather flip-flops and headed down to the kitchen in search of cereal.

Maria was bustling over a steaming pot of something that smelled spicy and scrumptious. She

beamed when Kelli walked in.

“Sit, sit, señorita! I make you good breakfast.”

“Thank you so much, but I don’t have time. I’m going shopping for wedding dresses in ten minutes.”

Maria made a tsk-tsk noise. “You must eat breakfast. Come, I make breakfast burrito. You like

spicy?”

“I like spicy very much,” she said, and dropped onto a stool at the granite bar. “Is Mac here?”

“No, he left early for meeting. He will be home by four to take you to dinner.”

“Dinner.”

“A romantic date, no?” Maria beamed knowingly, and Kelli felt herself returning the smile.

A horn beeped in the driveway, and Kelli jumped up. Maria turned and handed her two foil-

wrapped goodies.

“Here. One for you, one for your friend.”

“Thank you so much, Maria.” She took the food and trotted out the door to where Anna was waiting

in a rented convertible. Kelli slid in and handed Anna a burrito.

“Trade you for coffee.”

“Right there in the cup holder. You ready to do this?”

“Eat the burrito, or try on dresses? Only one of those gets a yes.”

Anna laughed and took a bite of her burrito. “You’ll do great. I worked with this bridal salon two

years ago when I was here doing a wedding for a bride who wanted the wedding performed while the

entire wedding party was skydiving. Suffice it to say, they’re very accommodating.”

“I’ll take accommodating. I’ll also take another six gallons of coffee. Thanks for this.”

“No problem.” She steered the car out onto the highway and Kelli sighed as the breeze ruffled her

hair. “So Mac is ridiculously hot. And I love how much he adores you.”

Kelli almost choked on her burrito. She held it down and took a sip of coffee for good measure.

“Uh-huh,” she agreed, eyes watering. “Me, too.”

“He looks like he’d be fantastic in the sack. That whole king-of-the-universe thing is crazy-hot.”

“It can be,” Kelli agreed, thinking her pal didn’t know the half of it. She’d never been so turned on

by a guy who wouldn’t sleep with her.

“Are we being followed?”

Kelli glanced up from her breakfast to see Anna frowning at the rearview mirror. She craned her

neck to see the car behind them. “Oh, that’s Mac’s man, Hank. I’m supposed to have a bodyguard with

me at all times, but Mac promised he’d give me my space.”

“He’s not going to follow you into the dressing room, is he?”

Kelli grinned. “Maybe we could make him model veils for us.”

Anna wheeled into the parking lot of the bridal salon and parked close to the front door. “Come on.

I can’t wait to see what they’ve picked out for you.”

“What did you tell them?”

“That you’re small, feisty, and ridiculously girlie for someone who wrestles Dobermans for a

living.”

“I’m sure they make just the gown for that,” Kelli said and followed her through the door.

The inside of the shop looked like a tulle factory had exploded. White gowns hung from

everywhere, some sleek and modern, and some with more ruffles than an eighties prom dress. Hank

walked a few steps behind them, looking like a man who’d prefer internment in a POW camp over a

morning spent shopping for bridal gowns. A veil grazed his arm, and he jumped back like he’d been

shot.

“Ms. Keebler? Ms. Landers? I’m so glad you could join us this morning. It’s our pleasure to serve

you!”

Kelli turned, startled by the voice. She’d been expecting a sleek model-type with a French accent,

or maybe an effusive gay man in bright jeggings.

What she saw was a tall man in a plaid shirt and cowboy boots. He tipped his cowboy hat, showing

a pleasant smile and laugh lines that made him look just like the Marlboro Man.

“Um, hi,” Kelli said, regrouping. “We’re here to look at wedding gowns. Not both of us. I mean,

I’m the one getting married. We’re not marrying each other. Not that there’s anything wrong with that

—”

“I know who you are, ma’am,” the cowboy said, gesturing toward a rack of dresses so blindingly

white, Kelli considered donning her sunglasses. “Ms. Keebler called ahead and gave us all your

measurements and some details about you. If you’ll come this way, we’ll get started trying things on.”

Kelli followed dumbly, noticing the man had the bowlegged swagger of someone who’d ridden

thirty miles on horseback to arrive at the boutique. Hank followed behind them, looking increasingly

uncomfortable as he waded deeper into the abyss of lace and satin.

“Clint has the best taste in gowns,” Anna whispered conspiratorially. “When I talked with him this

morning, he said he just got a new shipment of gowns from Vera Wang on Thursday.”

“They’re not flannel, are they?”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

“Or a bridal-shop owner by his chaps?”

“Exactly.”

Ahead of them, Clint halted in front of a rack and pivoted. “I’ve set aside a few styles to get you

started. Obviously, any of these can be tailored to fit you.” He plucked one gown off the rack and held

it up, the beading nicely complementing the silver buckle on his hat.

“This dress features a Venice lace sweetheart neckline and a fitted bodice. It’s an A-line gown

with a chapel train embellished with Swarovski crystals and seed pearls.”

Kelli nodded, reaching out to touch the dress. The satin felt cool beneath her fingers. “It’s very

nice,” she said. “But I was picturing something more—”

“Princessy?” he supplied.

Kelli blinked. “Yes. Pretty much.”

Anna elbowed her. “See? I told you he’s good.”

“This dress here is a drop-waist trumpet gown with a strapless, portrait neckline, ruched bust, and

a lace-up back,” he offered, swishing the gown to cover his spotlessly clean cowboy boots. “Optional

bolero is included.”

“It’s beautiful, but I’m not sure about the lace-up back. I was sorta hoping for—”

“Buttons?” he supplied. “I have just the thing.” He turned and pulled a third gown off the rack.

Kelli gasped in amazement.

“This is a taffeta A-line gown with a pleat-wrapped bodice topped with seed pearls and French

lace. It features an asymmetrical side pickup skirt revealing a jeweled tulle inset. The cathedral train

is detachable for dancing, and it has vintage, silk-covered buttons up the back.”

“That’s it,” she whispered, reaching out to touch it. “That’s the dress.”

For one breathless moment, Kelli forgot this whole thing was fake. She pictured herself in the gown

with her dashing groom waiting for her on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean as she gracefully

floated down an aisle lined with orchids and roses and daisies.

Then she remembered her groom was more eager to see her in a bulletproof vest than a wedding

gown, and that her fear of heights and natural clumsiness made floating on a cliff side even less likely

than allergy-prone Mac surviving a flower-strewn ceremony.

Besides. A real wedding was the last thing in the world she wanted. Ever.

A real wedding means commitment, which leads to love, which leads to attachment, which leads

to abandonment, which leads to—

“Try it on!” urged Anna. “That totally looks like your kind of dress.”

Kelli nodded and took a deep breath, bringing herself back from the edge of panic. It really was a

beautiful dress.

“The fitting room is right this way,” Clint said, leading her to a room with more mirrors than the

ceiling of a Las Vegas hotel room. He hung the gown on a hook and waved her inside.

“I’ll help with the buttons,” Anna said, stepping into the oversized fitting room with her. “Hurry, I

want to see it on you.”

“I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying.”

Kelli shimmied out of her sundress, and with a little help from Anna, managed to get the behemoth

dress over her shoulders. She deliberately avoided glancing in the mirror, not wanting to see anything

until it was settled perfectly.

“Okay, I’m going to zip you up now, hold still.”

“Zip?

“There’s a hidden zipper under the buttons,” Anna said. “The buttons are just an illusion.”

Just like the engagement, Kelli thought, but kept her smile pasted in place as Anna finished zipping

and buttoning and straightening.

“There,” she said, satisfied at last. “Don’t look yet, let’s walk out into the big room with all the

mirrors. There’s even a special pedestal you can pose on to see the full effect of the dress.”

Kelli allowed Anna to tow her out of the fitting room and into a brightly lit room. She stepped onto

the little raised platform and fluffed the train.

“Okay, you can look now,” Anna said. “Ohmygod, Kelli, you’re absolutely gorgeous.”

Kelli blinked at her reflection in the mirror. She did look gorgeous, if it was okay to think that. She

fluffed the skirt a little as Clint strode over and began arranging the train. Beside the dressing room,

Hank touched his earpiece and said something into a little microphone on his collar. He stared at a

man studying bow ties on the other side of the shop and Kelli shivered, trying not to think about who

might be spying on her.

“It fits you well,” Clint said, drawing her attention back to the dress. “We might need to take it in

just a little bit through here, but other than that, this dress looks like it was made for you.”

Kelli beamed, trying not to get emotional. It was just a dress. A stupid, fluffy white dress that

looked absolutely stunning on her. A memory flickered in her brain—the smell of mothballs, her

mother’s voice, the image of her seven-year-old self playing dress-up with her mom’s wedding gown.

“You’re a princess,” her mother had cooed, taking a slug of the Jim Beam she used to self-

medicate. “A real goddamn princess.”

“You are a princess,” Anna said, and Kelli realized she’d been mouthing the word princess like

some kind of moron.

Kelli pivoted, admiring the plunging neckline, the row of little tiny buttons up the back of the gown.

She frowned, noticing one edge of the fabric caught in the hidden zipper behind one of the top buttons.

She tugged, then stopped, not wanting to tear anything on the perfect dress.

Kelli pivoted again, certain Clint would have a solution for fixing the zipper. The bodice was

certainly lovely, and those seed pearls—

“Is that your phone?” Anna asked.

“I must’ve left it in the dressing room.”

“Don’t move. I’ll go grab it.”

Anna hustled off to the fitting area, while Kelli wriggled her shoulders, hoping to free the fabric

from the zipper. Wow, it was really wedged in there. Maybe if she tugged a little—

“The zipper?” Clint asked, reaching for it. “I was afraid of this. The humidity makes things

especially sticky. Let me see if I can—”

Chapter Four

Mac was en route home from a meeting when his phone rang. He recognized Hank’s number on the

readout and answered on the first ring.

“Is she okay?” he barked.

No point bothering with hello. He’d asked Hank to keep an eye on Kelli, to make sure she stayed

safe from gunrunners and thieves and fast-moving cars and large insects. If anything had happened to

her—

The silence on the other end of the line made Mac’s gut clench.

“She’s fine but there’s been a change in her plans for the morning.”

“What kind of change?”

“There’s been an emergency,” Hank said, and Mac’s gut clenched harder. “She had to race to the

clinic and—”

“I’m on my way,” Mac said, disconnecting the call as he slammed on his brakes. Tires squealed,

and a car behind him honked as Mac hauled ass for the volunteer veterinary clinic, Hank’s voice

echoing in his ears.

There’s been an emergency.

Dammit, he should have asked more questions. He’d have answers soon enough. He pushed the

pedal to the floor, handling the curves in the road like a NASCAR driver.

You swore you’d never let it happen again. If something happens to her because of you—

He screeched into a parking spot and jumped out of the car, slamming the door behind him. He

marched into the clinic like a man possessed, hoping she was okay, hoping she hadn’t been in a car

accident or gotten food poisoning or a hangnail. Jesus, what if she—

“Retraction,” commanded a familiar voice.

Mac rounded the corner into the newly built surgery suite and froze.

“Let’s get some lavage going here.”

His brain took a ridiculous amount of time processing the image of Kelli at the head of the

operating table. She wore a blue surgical mask over her mouth and nose, latex gloves on her hands,

and a full surgical gown tied in back over what appeared to be a—

“Is that a wedding dress?” Mac blurted.

Kelli looked up, her turquoise eyes meeting his over the top of her protective eyewear. “Hi,

honey,” she called cheerfully, despite the grim set of her face. “Can’t talk right now, gotta focus on

this bowel obstruction.”

She dropped her eyes back to the table, where a large mutt was sprawled unconscious, tongue

lolling to one side.

“We got the call at the bridal salon.” He turned to see Anna sidling up beside him, nodding toward

the table where Kelli worked. “The dog belongs to one of the vet techs. I guess their normal

veterinarian is out of town ‘til afternoon.”

“What happened?” he asked, moving around the table so he could see her from the front. He was

disappointed to discover the surgical gown covered the front of the dress completely.

Is it low cut? Is it silky?

Is it hot in here?

“Bowel obstruction,” Anna said. “Pretty common, but dangerous. Apparently the dog has a

fondness for panties.”

“Don’t we all,” he muttered, his eyes still fixed on Kelli as he moved to the side for a better view.

“I hope you’re not in the habit of eating them like Diablo here,” Kelli called, her brow creased as

she focused on her work.

God, she was beautiful. Especially in that dress, never mind the unflattering medical garb. The

view from behind was spectacular, the satin hugging her curves and showcasing that spectacular ass

beneath the tie on the surgical gown.

“Is the dog going to be okay?” Mac asked.

“Too soon to tell,” said a man in blue scrubs. He was clutching the hand of a worried-looking

brunette, and Mac deduced they must be the dog’s owners.

“Diablo always chews on my underthings,” she sniffed. “I’ve been so good about keeping the lid

down on the hamper, but I guess he must have gotten in somehow.”

“Let’s bump up the anesthesia,” Kelli said, setting aside a pair of oddly angled scissors that looked

like a medieval torture device. “Feels like it’s running a little too light. I’m going to try to squeeze the

foreign body through the intestine now. If we’re lucky, we can avoid having to resect the GI tract.”

“Dr. Landers has a lot of experience with this sort of surgery,” the dog’s owner whispered. “That’s

why we called her.”

Mac nodded, not sure if he was more surprised to hear her referred to as Dr. Landers, or to see his

sweet, docile bride up to her elbows in blood and intestines, looking calm and competent and in

command.

Why the hell is this sexy?

Mac turned back to Anna. “Is there a reason she’s uh—wearing a wedding gown?”

“We couldn’t get it off. The zipper got caught, and Kelli loved the dress too much to let us cut her

out of it. Now we just have to hope she doesn’t get blood on it.”

“Got it,” Kelli said, pulling a foul-looking mass from the dog’s belly and depositing it in a silver

bowl. “Let’s push three hundred milligrams of cefazolin, please. Can someone hand me some three-

ott PDS suture?”

“Jesus,” Mac growled.

“She’s good,” Anna said. “You’ve seen her work before?”

He hesitated, not sure what the right answer should be for a supposed fiancé. Given the awestruck

look he knew was plastered to his face, the truth seemed the best way to go.

“Never,” he said. “Not like this.”

“Did you know she’s published three different cases in the Journal of the American Veterinary

Medical Association?”

“Yes,” Mac said. He’d read that information in her file, of course. “But I had no idea what it

meant.”

“Well now you know,” Anna said, beaming proudly as she tucked a chunk of purple-streaked hair

behind her ear.

“Now I know,” Mac said and wondered if they were still talking about veterinary surgery.

“There,” Kelli said, stepping back slightly. “We’ve got the incision in the intestine closed. Let’s

check for leakage and give it a little lavage before we close the body wall.” She turned to the dog’s

owners and smiled. “You got lucky this time. Might want to be a little more careful with these in the

future.”

She reached into the silver bowl and unraveled a pair of red, lacy panties, dangling them from one

finger. Then she picked up some sort of oblong silver object, smooth and rounded on the ends. She

flicked a button and the object began buzzing in her hand.

“Oh,” Mac said, realization dawning as Kelli flicked off the bullet-shaped vibrator.

She grinned and gave him a wink. “Gotta love the power of Duracell.”

Mac looked at the panties, wondering if they’d started out crotchless or if the dog rendered them

that way. He turned to the dog’s owners to offer some words of encouragement and saw the woman

glaring daggers at the man.

“I have never owned either of those things in my entire life,” she snapped.

Mac winced and looked back at Kelli. She met his eye, her expression perfectly composed and

professional.

“Well,” she said. “I take it you won’t be needing these back?”

…

An hour later, Kelli found herself sitting shotgun in Mac’s black car with her wedding gown piled

around her.

“Definitely not the first time I’ve pulled panties out of a dog’s GI tract,” Kelli said, stretching her

legs out. “But that’s the first time they’ve become evidence in a divorce case.”

“You were amazing in there.”

“Thanks,” Kelli said, beaming. She noticed a hint of surprise in his voice, and wasn’t sure what to

make of it. She looked down at her dress and fluffed the satin. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

“Very. Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her gown before the wedding?”

“Since there won’t be a wedding, I think we’re safe.”

He didn’t say anything right away, and Kelli fiddled uncomfortably with a seed pearl. “Don’t

worry about me wearing it to Zapata’s house tomorrow. Anna’s sending someone to the house to get it

off me shortly.”

“I wasn’t worried.” He glanced at her, his expression unreadable behind the dark glasses. “You

were really good in there. Impressive.”

“Thanks. I’ve been doing this awhile.” She sighed and stretched her neck, which was full of kinks

from a morning spent hunched over the operating table. “Anything I should know about tomorrow’s

dinner with Zapata? Any briefs I need to read, or memos I should consult?”

“Just be yourself,” he murmured distractedly. Then he looked at her, seemingly startled by his own

words. “I’m not entirely sure I know who that is.”

“What do you mean?”

He was studying her so intensely, he seemed to have forgotten he was in control of a moving

vehicle. “Mac? Uh, the road?”

“Right.” He snapped his attention back to driving, but still seemed distracted. “When you meet

Zapata and his wife, just be sweet, elegant, and as quiet as possible. Let me handle the talking. And

don’t let Griselda bait you. She’ll probably try to get a rise out of you.”

“Got it. I probably need to go dress shopping before the dinner party. Is there something special

you want me to wear?”

“A wiretap.”

“I meant dresses.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “There’s a whole closet full of things in the master bedroom. I ordered

everything in your size. I was going to have Maria move them over last night after you decided to stay

in the guest room, but then you fell asleep.”

“Sorry about that.” Kelli bit her lip. “Did anyone ask questions about us not sharing a room?”

“I told them you’re very traditional, and that you think it’s bad luck for the bride and groom to share

a bed a month before their wedding.”

“We’re getting married next month?”

“Sure, why not?”

Why not, Kelli thought, and stared out the window, feeling jittery all of a sudden.

“I think we should postpone it,” she said.

“Postpone it?”

“The wedding. That seems way too soon.”

Mac was silent in the driver’s seat. “You do remember we aren’t really getting married? This

whole arms deal will be wrapped up long before that anyway.”

“I know,” Kelli said, not sure why she felt so jumpy. She turned to look at him, and caught her

panic-filled reflection in his sunglasses. She swallowed and pressed on. “I just don’t feel ready.”

“Ready for a fake wedding?”

Kelli nodded, balling her hands into fists in the wedding gown. “Maybe in two months. Or three. Or

even longer. I’ve heard of engagements lasting a year or more, and I just think—”

“Kelli.”

“What?”

“I promise I’m not planning to drag you to the altar by the hair, nor am I secretly plotting to get you

drunk and arrange a Vegas ceremony performed by a team of Elvis impersonators.”

“Is that going in our wedding vows?”

Mac looked at her again, his expression softening. “I can’t believe this.”

“What?”

“You’re terrified of marriage.”

She looked up at the ceiling of the car. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Marriage—a lifelong commitment between two people?” He furrowed his brow. “Or a week-long

commitment between two celebrities. Whatever. The point is that you’re afraid of it.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.”

“Am not.”

“Are, too.” He grimaced. “Jesus, we sound like six-year-olds.”

“Or married people.”

Mac shook his head and turned the car onto a narrow side street. “Is that what this is about? You

equate marriage with bickering and blame?”

“No. That’s not it.”

“Well what is it then?”

She bit her lip, hesitating. Was there really any reason he needed to know? Commitment-phobia

wasn’t really her problem, but her gripping fear of abandonment had nothing to do with this business

relationship. Not if they kept emotion out of the equation, which they’d both pledged to do.

She took a breath and forced her voice to stay steady. “I just think our story will be more

believable if we slow things down a little,” she said. “That Zapata’s men will be suspicious if we

rush things.”

Mac slid into a parking spot in front of a low-slung stucco building and braked into a parking spot.

He turned to look at her, and Kelli bit her lip.

“I don’t believe for an instant that you give a shit what Zapata’s men think,” he said slowly. “I do

think you’re terrified of marriage, or maybe just commitment. It’s fine with me either way, since I

have no intention of ever doing either. Now can we just put a time line on this fake engagement and be

done with it?”

Kelli nodded, squirming under the intensity of his stare, which was still masked by those damn

sunglasses. “Fine. Six weeks. That way if something goes wrong—”

“Nothing will go wrong.”

“—if there are any hitches in the plan,” she said with an eye roll, “we won’t really be expected to

get hitched.”

“Fine. Now turn around.”

The abruptness of the command startled her so much she complied without thinking, offering him

her back. “What for?”

“So I can help you.”

She felt his hands graze her bare back above the fabric of the wedding dress, and her whole body

began to hum with pleasure. He lifted her hair, baring her neck and the tops of her shoulders. His

breath fanned her skin, and she shivered.

“Oh,” she gasped as his fingers moved against her spine. She couldn’t tell what he was doing, but

she hoped he did it for a very long time.

“Definitely very sticky,” he murmured, his mouth closer to her neck than she’d realized. “Luckily,

there’s a little extra room in here.”

He moved one palm over her shoulder, stroking the sensitive flesh at the curve of her neck. Then he

moved his hand down, fingertips brushing the tops of her breasts. She gasped as he slid one finger

between them, stroking lightly. His breath was warm against her neck, and he skimmed his lips over

the back of her ear.

Kelli moaned and closed her eyes, melting into the sensation of Mac’s hands everywhere at once.

He had two fingers between her breasts now, a tight squeeze that left her squirming to feel more of

him. He curled the tip of one finger beneath her breast, caressing the soft underside as his teeth grazed

the nape of her neck. She arched into him, breathing hard now as Mac stroked her, the pad of his

finger just inches from her nipple.

She gasped again as his right hand moved against her back, nudging her forward so her breasts

spilled into his left palm. He squeezed softly, his fingers nimble and confident as he stroked and

teased. Kelli gripped the door handle whimpered, wanting to feel those fingers everywhere at once.

She pictured them moving between her legs, slipping inside her, probing her soft, wet—

“There,” he said and pulled his hand from her dress.

Kelli blinked. “What?”

“I fixed the zipper. You just needed a little…adjusting.”

She turned in her seat and gaped at him. “You groped me to unzip my dress?”

“Usually I unzip a dress before I commence groping. Understandably, I had to alter my technique.”

He gave her a satisfied grin and adjusted his sunglasses. It was obvious he knew he’d gotten to her,

and part of her wanted to punch him for looking so smug.

Most of her just wanted his hands on her again.

Before she could reach for him, he reached for the car door instead.

“Now that you’re taken care of, I need to run inside and grab a gun.”

“A gun? What, are you robbing the place?”

“No, if I were robbing the place, I would have said I was grabbing a gun and running inside.”

“Good point.” Kelli licked her lips, still dazed from the feel of his hands on her body.

“It’s a gun shop,” he said. “I’m just picking up a pistol I had serviced. You want to wait here, or

come inside?”

“I’ll wait here. I need a few minutes to uh—compose myself.”

“That’s probably best. I’d rather not have to explain why I’m bringing a woman in a wedding gown

into a gun shop.”

“A wedding gown that’s likely to fall off, now that you’ve loosened the zipper.”

“Pity I won’t be able to see that.” He smiled. “I’ll be back in two minutes. Hank’s parked right

over there if you need anything.”

With one last self-satisfied grin, he got out of the car and locked the door behind him.

Kelli settled back into her seat and looked around. Mac had left the keys in the ignition to keep the

air-conditioning running, so it wasn’t really hot. Still, the surrounding area looked parched. Parched

and hot and a little sketchy. A massive cactus hunched on the side of the road with one branch bent,

looking like a drunk guy with a broken arm. In front of the building next to the gun shop, a trash bin

overflowed with scraps of food and plastic bottles of laundry detergent and soda. A mangy dog

scurried past and sniffed the bin, looking for scraps.

Kelli peered at the dog, looking for injuries or anything that might require her aid. She was so

focused on studying the dog she didn’t see the man approach the car.

And it wasn’t until he put a gun to the windshield that she realized she might be in trouble.

Chapter Five

Kelli stared at the gun, then at the hand holding it, and at the arm attached to the hand, and at the face

—

“Open the fucking door, bitch!” the face snarled.

She yelped and scooted back in her seat, for all the good that would do. All her years of self-

defense and karate and wrestling large dogs vanished at the sight of a pistol pointed at her head. She

screamed, hoping Hank or Mac might hear her.

She closed her eyes, waiting for the gunshot, wishing like hell she’d gone into the store with Mac.

He’d been smart enough to lock the door, but would that really stop a sneering stranger with a gun?

Smash!

Apparently not.

Glass pelted her arms and head, and Kelli opened her eyes to see the man drawing his hand back.

He’d used the butt of the gun to shatter the driver’s side window, and before she could draw a breath,

he yanked open the door and threw himself inside.

Kelli gasped and grabbed for her door handle, but the man threw the locks and lurched out of the

parking lot before she could muster a scream. Tires squealed and bits of gravel and glass sputtered

behind them. In the rearview mirror she saw Hank running after them, yelling something into the mike

on his collar.

“Stop!” she shrieked.

The man laughed and floored the gas. “Nice car,” he said in Spanish, though it took Kelli’s addled

brain a few minutes to process the words. “Worth a lot of money. Maybe more than you.”

She screamed and tried to grab the wheel, not sure what she intended to do. It didn’t matter. The

carjacker raised the pistol, effectively ending any plans she might’ve had. She flew backward into her

seat as the carjacker gunned the engine.

“Sit there and shut up!” he barked.

He glanced at her, then did a double take before flicking his gaze back to the road. “Nice wedding

dress. Your husband, he must have a lot of money?”

“Please, just let me go,” Kelli pleaded, frantically scanning the road up ahead. They were headed

east, she thought, but God only knew where they were going. Everything was happening fast. Maybe if

she could reach her purse and her phone—

“Sit back and stop moving around. You’re worth the same dead or alive.”

“Please, let me go—”

“That’s not the plan here.”

“Well what is the plan?” she snapped, trying to keep her voice even. “I need to put it in my

calendar and make sure my schedule is clear.”

The man sneered. “You’re funny.”

He banked hard around a corner, still accelerating. She shot a frantic glance behind them, looking

for landmarks, trying to remember which way they were headed so she could alert Mac or whoever

they called for ransom.

If I live that long.

The carjacker screeched around another corner before pulling a phone out of his pocket. He

punched a few keys, then spoke in rapid-fire Spanish infused with so much slang, Kelli understood

only a few words, including Town Car, bride, and inexplicably, cheese.

The man punched the phone off and leered at her as he rounded another bend in the road. “It’s my

lucky day. We’ve got a buyer all lined up.”

“For me or the car?”

The man cackled, and Kelli felt her skin crawl. Where was her purse? She’d tossed it in the

backseat when Mac picked her up at the clinic. Maybe she could pretend she needed a tissue. Maybe

if she just reached back—

“Fuck,” the man snarled as a fruit truck careened into the road ahead of them. He jammed his foot

on the brake, and Kelli threw her hands on the dashboard, wondering if she should buckle up or flip

the locks and make a run for it somehow. They were still moving fast, maybe thirty miles an hour. If

she could just get the door unlocked—

Thunk!

Something red splattered across the windshield, and she screamed.

It took her three seconds to realize she was screaming at a tomato.

Thunk!

Another tomato, and another, followed by an oblong zucchini and something that might have been a

persimmon.

“What the hell?” the carjacker yelled, swerving to avoid a hail of flying fruit. He jammed the brake

harder, slowing the car to a crawl. Now was Kelli’s chance to make a run for it. She grabbed the

door handle and—

Smash!

She screamed as more glass shattered, the windshield this time. She threw her arm up to shield her

face, conscious of the glass pelting her, the car shrieking to a halt, the echo of a voice she’d know

anywhere.

“Hands in the air right now, or I’ll blow your motherfucking head off.”

Kelli dropped her arm and blinked, taking in the rush of air through the windshield, the pile of glass

on the dashboard, the reek of cantaloupe in her lap, and the sight of her fake fiancé crouched on the

hood of the car.

“Mac!” she cried, registering the pistol gripped in one hand, the honeydew melon in the other.

Mac kept his gun trained on the driver, but stole a glance at Kelli, his eyes performing a hasty scan

of her body. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Good.” He set the melon on the hood of the car, but the gun didn’t waver. “I might let this

sonofabitch live and call the cops.”

Mac barked something into a radio on his collar. Before Kelli could ask what he was doing,

Hank’s car screeched to a halt behind them, blocking any chance the carjacker might have had to make

a getaway. Hank jumped out of the car and marched to Mac’s side. Mac jerked his chin at the driver,

who was still frozen in place with his hands in the air and a dumbfounded expression on his face.

“Find out who this dickhead is,” Mac ordered. “Common car thief, or someone we should give a shit

about. Then pay Pablo over there for the use of his truck, driving skills, and fresh produce.”

Hank nodded and jerked the car door open. Bright metal flashed in his hand, and Kelli realized

he’d drawn his gun. She watched as he hauled the carjacker to his feet and shoved him toward the

fruit truck. The two men disappeared around the vehicle and out of sight.

Kelli looked at Mac and swallowed. “How did you—”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Mac asked, jumping off the hood of the car and swinging himself into

the driver’s seat so fast Kelli barely saw him move. Still holding the gun, he began to pat her down,

inspecting for injuries. She gasped as his hands moved along her rib cage.

“That hurt?”

“No. Just ticklish.” She shivered as his palms lingered there beneath her breasts.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to smash the windshield. I just needed to get the sonofabitch to stop. Does

this hurt here?”

She opened her mouth to pelt him with questions—How did you catch us? Who was that man?

Where the hell did you learn to throw fruit like that?—but none of it mattered right then.

“You saved me,” she gasped, her mouth finally discovering a way to form the words that had been

bouncing on the edge of her brain. “You saved my life.”

Mac nodded once, then dropped his hands. His expression was stony, and his jaw clenched and

unclenched in the glitter of sunlight through the missing windshield.

“That’s my job,” he said. “That’s part of this business arrangement. Keeping you safe.”

Kelli nodded, still too stunned for coherent thought. She looked down at the pile of shattered glass

and mangled fruit on her wedding gown and swallowed hard.

“I hope you know a good dry cleaner.”

…

“So he had no ties whatsoever to Zapata?” Mac loosened his grip on the phone and stared out his

office window at the glitter of afternoon sun on the Pacific Ocean.

“That’s correct, sir,” Hank replied. “He’s got a long rap sheet for carjacking and petty theft, but no

connection to our guy.”

Mac frowned. He trusted the intelligence, but still. He hated the idea he’d put Kelli at risk from

more than one direction. He’d spent enough time in Mexico to know many of the American news

stories about street crime and unsafe conditions were largely exaggerated. Still, he should have been

more careful. Should have done a better job protecting her.

“We keep two guards on her at all times,” Mac said. “Report back to me if you learn anything

else.”

“Yes, sir. I’m sorry again about losing sight of the car.”

“It’s not your fault. The guy took off like a bat out of hell.”

“Still. If you hadn’t jumped on that moving fruit truck and known where to cut the guy off on the

highway, things could have ended much differently. How the hell did you figure he’d head toward

Cabo?”

“Lucky guess.”

Luck. Goddamn it, he’d worked way too hard to leave anything to luck at this stage in the game. No

more taking chances with this deal.

With Kelli.

“She never leaves your sight,” Mac said. “You, plus two guards.”

“Understood.”

He disconnected the call and glanced at his watch. It was long past lunchtime, though he’d skipped

the meal and holed up in his office reviewing military briefings and gathering intelligence on the

carjacker. It was true Mexico had plenty of random crime, but the idea of Kelli being a target

unnerved him.

He sighed and tucked the phone in his pocket. Probably time to shut down for the day and check on

her. He couldn’t remember if he’d told her about their dinner plans for the evening, but he should

probably let her know so she had time to get ready. Hell, he needed to change his shirt, since it still

reeked of cantaloupe. He tugged at the buttons, shrugging the garment off as he passed the laundry

chute.

He took the steps two at a time and strode down the hallway toward the guest room. The door was

wide open, and he halted in front of it, not wanting to intrude.

“Kelli?” he called. “You in there?”

“Over here!” came the chirpy reply.

Mac turned toward the master bedroom, frowning slightly as he moved into his own living space

and took in his surroundings. There was the massive, four-poster bed with a sturdy iron headboard.

The crimson duvet brushed the corners of the dark teak nightstands on either side. The walls were

painted a near-black shade of purple and adorned with abstract paintings and an iron candelabra

Maria had found in an antique shop.

There was a faint scent of jasmine in the air, and Mac followed it almost unconsciously as he

moved through the bedroom toward the large walk-in closet in the far corner.

“Kelli?” he called again. “Do you need help with—”

The words died in his throat as he froze in the doorway of the closet. Kelli looked up from her spot

in the center of the space and gave him a broad smile.

It was the only thing she wore.

Well, pretty much. The bra and panties left little to the imagination, flimsy and lacy and made of

some sort of pale silk that showed every inch of flesh beneath. The wedding dress she’d worn earlier

was long gone, and she wore a pair of sparkly high heels that accentuated her calves and that pert

little ass. She looked like the best Christmas gift he’d ever gotten, Mac felt an overwhelming urge to

gather her in his arms and carry her to the bed.

“What do you think?” she asked.

Mac felt all the blood drain from his head. “Think?”

“About the dress.”

Mac swallowed hard and gripped the doorframe, afraid he might fall over from dizziness. “You’re

not wearing a dress.”

“And you’re not wearing a shirt. Our powers of observation are outstanding.” She grinned. “I’m

trying to choose a dress for tomorrow night. The meeting with Zapata?” She gestured to the garments

lining the closet. “You told me I could pick something in here. I hope it’s okay if I try on a few

things.”

Mac nodded, still not completely sure he’d heard her right. Did those even count as panties? They

were mostly just string and lace, and unless he was seeing things, she was waxed bare beneath them.

Her breasts strained against the thin fabric of the bra, and Mac felt his mouth go dry as he looked at

her.

“You’re staring.”

“You’re naked.”

“I’m in my underwear. This is more clothing than most women wear to the beach, and besides,

we’re engaged. Remember?”

Mac was having a hard time remembering his name at the moment. He blinked and tried to force

himself to concentrate.

“Dresses. Yes, absolutely.” Mac swallowed, frozen in place, his eyes flicking to the rows of

designer gowns he’d had delivered in her size. He felt light-headed. Maybe it was the sight of all that

women’s clothing lined up in his closet, or maybe it was the sight of all that woman. He gripped the

doorframe harder as she took a few steps toward him, a faint smile on her lips.

“What do you think?” she asked again. She held up two garments—dresses, he thought, made of

something shimmery and expensive, though he couldn’t have named the colors or styles if someone

tortured him.

Mac swallowed. “I think they’re stunning.”

“Mac?”

“Mmm-hmm?”

She tucked one finger under his chin and lifted to raise the direction of his gaze.

“About the dresses. What do you think about the dresses, not my tits.”

Mac tore his eyes from them and cocked his head. “To be fair, the tits are in my closet. It only

seems appropriate I should admire them.”

Kelli laughed, but made no move to cover up. “Well we are engaged,” she said. “And we are

having dinner tomorrow with your business associate. You should get to help pick the dress. Do you

think chartreuse or aubergine?”

“I have no idea what you just said.” He looked at the dresses for the first time, noticing she’d

picked out something green and one in a dark purple. “I don’t think that bra matches either dress.”

“Well, they are strapless dresses,” Kelli pointed out, holding them up for his inspection.

Mac nodded, and Kelli thrust them into his hands, forcing them to close around the hangers instead

of around those gorgeous breasts cupped in satin and lace. He remembered what they’d felt like in his

hands when he’d teased her in the car, and he ached to touch them again.

“I think the only way to try on these dresses is for me to remove my bra,” Kelli said. “Care to help

me?”

Mac swallowed hard, thinking this was probably a very bad idea. Why was that again?

It was one thing to tease her when he was in charge of the situation, but Kelli was calling the shots

now. The lack of control unsettled him.

It also excited him.

She turned, baring her back and the flimsy clasp of the bra so enticingly close, Mac could almost

touch her. Then he was touching her, dropping the dresses in a puddle at his feet as he reached for the

bra clasp. He flicked it open and pushed aside the lacy straps, his palms sliding around to cup her as

his thumbs slid over her nipples. She was so warm, so sweet, so unbelievably soft—

“Oh, no you don’t,” Kelli scolded, stepping away and turning to face him. She angled her arm so it

covered her breasts, but just barely. “We’re choosing dresses, remember?”

“Right. Dresses.” Mac nodded and Kelli gave him a smile. There was something different about it.

Something not even remotely angelic. He wondered how he hadn’t seen it before. She was all devil

now, her eyes flashing with mischief as she held those beautiful breasts just out of reach.

“I think you should turn around,” she said.

“What?”

“We aren’t married, you know. I don’t think it’s right for you to go staring at my bare breasts.”

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” He took a step toward her.

She took a step back and shook her head. “Turn around.”

Mac blinked, not sure if she was serious or not. She stared right back, her expression equal parts

teasing and scolding. He waited a few beats for her to drop her arm, to tell him she was just teasing.

God, it was hot in this closet.

“I’m waiting,” she said. “You wanted a sweet, demure, innocent bride who wouldn’t give you any

trouble, right?”

“What?”

“A modest bride is a happy bride,” Kelli chirped. “I read that in a wedding planning guide from

1958.”

“Did Anna give it to you?”

“Yes.”

“Is it too late to fire her?”

She grinned. “Turn around, Mac.”

Sensing she wasn’t going to be showing him her breasts anytime soon, he grumbled something

unintelligible and turned around. He was facing the closet door now, staring out into the bedroom

with its dark wood furniture and modern art and that big, sprawling, massive bed where he’d

sincerely love to toss Kelli and fuck her senseless.

“What do you think?” she purred, her lips so close to his ear that he jumped. How the hell had she

crept up on him?

He started to turn, but her hands cupped his shoulders, holding him in place. That’s when he noticed

what was pressed warmly low against his bare back. Those naked, soft breasts pushed against him,

teasing and warm against his spine. She moved with slow deliberateness, grazing the hollow of his

back with her nipples. He could feel them firm on his flesh, and he groaned aloud. He wasn’t sure if it

was frustration that he couldn’t touch her, or pleasure that she was touching him. Did it matter?

She brushed her breasts from one side of his back to the other, still teasing. Heat and friction made

her nipples skitter slightly, flesh on flesh, softness against hardness. He ached to touch her. To see

her.

But at least he could feel her. Her breasts moved against him, pressing upward, moving in slow

circles. Her nipples were hard and tight against the columns of muscle running up each side of his

spine.

“I like your freckles,” she breathed, planting a soft kiss on one shoulder blade. “I wouldn’t have

pictured you as a man with freckles. You hide things well.”

She laughed then, and brushed one fingertip over the front of his trousers. He groaned, and she

laughed again. “Well, maybe not all things.”

She went back to teasing him, hands on his shoulders, breasts moving soft and lush against his back.

He felt her eyelashes tickle his flesh as she planted another kiss on his left shoulder blade, then the

right.

It dawned on Mac this was as much a tease for her as it was for him. Her hands slid away from his

shoulders, and he tried to turn, to seize control of the situation. She stopped him, palms pressing hard

against his shoulder blades, breasts pushed firmly into the small of his back.

“Not so fast,” she whispered. “I’m just testing this out.”

“Testing what out?”

“How it would feel to be braless. See, I didn’t pack a strapless bra, so I need to make sure this is

an acceptable way to spend the evening in mixed company.”

Mac closed his eyes as she stroked herself over his spine and down. He pictured her bending her

knees as she dipped low, her breasts moving just above his belt.

“I don’t know about mixed company, but it works great here,” he murmured.

She slid her hands down, moving to cup his ass. Her palms moved against him, fingers massaging

—a surgeon’s skilled fingers—and Mac gave another strangled moan as her nipples trailed over the

heated patch of skin above his pants.

Pants that felt entirely too tight at the moment.

He could feel his erection straining against the fabric. The caveman inside him commanded him to

just turn around and take her. It would be so easy, and he knew she’d come willingly.

The rest of him ached to see what she planned to do.

He had his answer in an instant as her hands slid away from his ass and moved to the front of his

pants. His back was still to her, so he couldn’t see what she was doing, but he could feel her. Her

fingers found the buckle of his belt and unfastened it. Then she moved to his fly, fingertips grazing his

belly as she flicked the button open and moved to the zipper. She slid it down with aching slowness,

her movements deliberate, certain.

Her hands moved to his hips, pushing the fabric down over them. The pants fell easily, linen

pooling at his bare feet. She moved to the waistband of his boxer briefs, her fingers teasing as they

slid beneath the elastic.

Christ, he should just turn around and have her. Bend her over the bench where he sat to put on his

shoes. Take charge of the situation. Part of him screamed to seize control, to call the shots the way he

always did. But there was something thrilling about giving it up, if only for a moment. Letting a

woman have her fun with him.

“Mmm,” she whispered against his back as she pushed his boxer briefs down over his hips. They

fell onto the pants, a pile of warm fabric at his feet. He started to kick them away, but Kelli pressed

one high-heeled shoe onto the pile, trapping him in place with his own clothes.

“Stay still,” she whispered, nipping lightly at the top of his butt.

He groaned and tried to turn again, to see her at least. She held him firmly by the waist.

“Nice try,” she whispered, rising up again and skimming her breasts over his back. Her breath was

warm on the side of his ribcage. “No touching before the wedding.”

“This isn’t touching?” he ground out.

“Not yet,” she murmured. “But this is.”

Her fingertips grazed the tip of his cock. Then she wrapped one hand around him, her palm hot and

soft against him.

“Fuck,” Mac choked out, gripping the doorframe for balance.

“Definitely not,” she whispered, gripping him tighter as she began to stroke him. “I’m not that kind

of girl.”

She caressed him slowly, her hands skilled and applying just the right amount of pressure. She

moved up, down, up again, fingertips soft and firm all at once.

“Holy God,” he gasped as she stroked her hand in a slow, rhythmic, tease. Her breasts pressed soft

against his back as her fingers moved deftly over his shaft. “Whatever kind of girl you are, I hope you

never change.”

She laughed and stroked more firmly, one hand gliding over him while the other moved lower to

knead his balls. She teased slowly at first, her rhythm building gradually as Mac’s breath came faster.

Her grip was tighter now, but still fluid. He’d never been handled this way before, forced to stand

completely still while someone else touched and teased and all he could do was grip the doorframe

and hope to God he got to repay the favor.

He felt himself throbbing in her hand and gritted his teeth, certain he was on the brink of falling

down or passing out or losing it completely.

“Kelli,” he growled.

“Hmm?” she breathed against his back.

“You’d better stop now.”

“Or what?”

“Or one of two things will happen.” He closed his eyes, trying to regain his composure as his

fingers dug hard into the doorframe. “Either we’ll have another article of clothing to dry clean, or I’m

going to turn around and—”

“Sir?”

They both froze. Kelli’s hand held him tight, unmoving. Her breath was hot and fast against his

back.

“Sir? Are you in there?”

Brian. Fuck, Mac thought. I left the goddamn door wide open.

Mac swallowed. “Yes?”

“I have the car ready, sir. The dinner reservation you asked for is at seven.”

Mac closed his eyes. Dammit. He’d completely forgotten.

“Dinner?” Kelli whispered, fingers still twined around his shaft.

“It was a surprise,” he whispered back. “Since I didn’t get to take you out your first night.”

“How romantic.”

“Besides, it’s good for Zapata’s people to see us out in public.”

“Of course.”

Mac took a deep breath. “Coming!”

Behind him, Kelli laughed. “Not anymore.” She laughed again, her breasts moving pleasantly. Mac

lost a few more brain cells.

She squeezed him once more, softly, before letting go. Then she stepped back. Mac felt her absence

in the chill of his bare skin.

“On second thought,” he whispered, “We could just skip dinner and—”

“No way, José,” she said, putting a palm against his back to keep him from turning around. He

heard a rustle of clothing, and felt disappointed she was getting dressed.

“It’s only a major arms deal,” he said. “Just a few million bucks and some dead civilians, but

really—”

“The moment’s gone, Mac,” she said, a smile in her voice. “Stall Brian for ten minutes while I put

on some lipstick and a dress.”

“Without underwear?” he asked hopefully.

She swatted him on the shoulder, then gave him a gentle push toward the door. “You’ll just have to

wonder, won’t you?”

“About a lot of things,” he muttered raking his fingers through his hair in frustration. He grabbed a

shirt from its hanger and shrugged it over his shoulders as he stomped toward the door.

He got halfway down the hall before remembering to go back for his pants.

By the time he got to the car, he’d almost cooled off. Almost.

He punched his sister’s speed-dial number, grateful to have a few moments of quiet with no

bodyguards or assistants or disturbingly sexy fake fiancées around to cloud his thoughts.

Sheri answered on the second ring. “Mac! I’m so glad to hear from you. How are things going?”

Mac adjusted his sunglasses and stared through the windshield at a phallic-looking cactus. “I asked

for a Stepford wife and you sent me a goddamn hellcat.”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line, and Mac could picture Sheri biting down on

her fist to keep from laughing. He felt his blood starting to boil, or maybe that was his libido still on a

low simmer from Kelli’s teasing.

“It’s good to hear from you, too,” Sheri said primly.

“You knew damn well Kelli wasn’t sweet and demure and compliant and whatever else you tried

to sell me. She’s your best friend, for crying out loud.”

“And she’s your sister’s best friend,” she retorted, her voice annoyingly smug and chipper. “You

should have paid more attention.”

Mac gritted his teeth and raked his hand through his hair. “This is not what I asked for.”

“No? Well, I asked for a nanny and you sent a Marine.”

“A Marine you’re now engaged to marry, may I remind you? You’re welcome.”

“So are you, jerk.” She laughed. “You gave me the one thing I was damn sure I didn’t want but

never knew I needed. I saw my chance to do the same for my control-freak big brother. You can thank

me later.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll figure it out,” she said. “I have to run. Sam’s waiting in the car with the boys. I love you,

you overbearing bastard.”

Before he could say anything else, she’d hung up on him. Mac sat there staring at the phone a

moment, not sure whether to be pissed off at his sister, at Kelli, or himself.

He tore his gaze off the phallic cactus and saw Kelli floating toward the car in a shimmery yellow

dress that hugged her curves. His heart lodged in his throat, and he gripped the phone in his fist,

forgetting all about being pissed off.

Anger wasn’t what he was feeling. That wasn’t it at all.

And that scared the holy living shit out of him.

Chapter Six

“Are we being watched?” Kelli asked, taking a sip of wine as she tried to look inconspicuous

studying the other patrons in the restaurant.

There was the middle-aged couple feeding each other bites of scampi and laughing with their heads

bent close together. There was a table with five men in Bermuda shorts slapping each other on the

back while repeatedly using the word balls, and it took Kelli a moment to realize they were

discussing golf. She turned away and studied the gray-haired foursome enjoying a quiet dinner

together at the table near the window.

Was one of them a spy for Zapata?

Mac cleared his throat and picked up the saltshaker. He inspected the bottom of it, then set it down

and repeated the process with the pepper, the utensils, and the tiny vase of wildflowers on the table.

She saw his hands moving under the table, and for a moment, thought he was reaching for her knee.

Then she realized he was searching for something.

“Bugs?” she guessed, her stomach lurching a little at the thought of someone going to such lengths to

eavesdrop.

“All clear,” he said, returning his hands to the top of the table and clasping them together. “But

even if we’re not being recorded, we’re almost certainly being watched.”

“Well, then,” she said, sliding her hands toward his and moving her fingers over the tops of his

knuckles. “We’d probably better look like we’re on intimate terms, shouldn’t we?”

Mac seemed to hesitate, then unclasped his hands and folded them around hers. “Easier to do now

than two hours ago.”

Kelli felt some heat rush to her cheeks as she remembered the way she’d teased him. It had been

good payback for his earlier tease in the car. She smiled and freed one hand, taking another sip of

wine. “Between the emergency surgery, the carjacking, and our time spent in the closet, I haven’t had

much time to study your info packet today.”

“Thank you for filling out the questionnaire last night,” he said. “We’ll both have time for review

tomorrow before the dinner. That should be enough to make sure we’re covered.”

“Hopefully,” she said, returning her hands to his and savoring the feel of being engulfed in his large

palms. “Do you really think those questionnaires are enough?”

He frowned, forming what looked like a permanent crease between his brows. Kelli was struck by

a sudden urge to kiss that spot.

“Enough for what?” he asked.

“To seem like two people who know each other well enough to get married.”

He shrugged and glanced toward the kitchen where their waiter had disappeared five minutes ago

with their dinner order. Kelli followed his gaze, wondering if he was assessing the possibility the

waiter was a spy. What would it be like to constantly look over your shoulder like that? His urge to

protect her was comforting, but also a little unnerving. Almost an obsession, though for the life of her

she wasn’t sure what drove it.

“Let’s play a game,” she said.

Mac raised one eyebrow. “You’ll have to excuse me, I forgot my chessboard.”

“A get-to-know-you game,” she continued, ignoring the sarcasm. “I’m still of the opinion it’s the

quirky little personality details that will make or break our story.”

“What sort of game did you have in mind?”

“How about this or that?”

“What or what?”

“It’s a game,” she said. “I’ll name two things, and you have to choose this or that. Ready?”

“I’m not sure I understand the intent of the exercise—”

“Mac or PC?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“For a computer. Does Mac use a Mac, or is Mac a stuffy PC guy?”

That got a small smile out of him, and his hands curved tighter around hers. “Mac is most definitely

a stuffy PC guy.”

“Excellent. See? I’ve learned something about you already.”

“I take it you’re a Mac guy?”

“God, no. I don’t even own a computer. Okay, next question. Bacon or cupcakes?”

“Cupcakes,” he said automatically.

“Bacon for me,” she said, nodding. “You have a sweet tooth then?”

“Definitely.” He’d skipped the sunglasses for once, and the molten quality in those dark brown eyes

made her shiver.

“But no peanut butter and chocolate—I remember that from our meeting with Anna.”

“Right.”

“Are you allergic?”

“Something like that.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the dark shadow that flashed in his eyes told her not to press it. Weird, but

okay. She cleared her throat. “Automatic or manual transmission?”

“Manual. I prefer the control.”

“Of course.”

“And you?” he asked.

“Same.”

“After your performance in the closet, it doesn’t surprise me you’re adept with a stick shift.”

She grinned, ignoring the rush of heat to her cheeks. “Cats or dogs?”

“Cats. They’re calm. Serene. Detached.”

“Hmm, that one doesn’t surprise me.” Kelli crossed her legs under the table. “I like cats and dogs

and hedgehogs and lizards and pretty much every animal under the sun. Except centipedes.”

“I’ll have Hank cancel that shipment of one hundred centipedes I’d planned to give you for a

wedding gift. So do I get to ask one?”

“Be my guest,” she said.

“Panties or no panties?”

She laughed and glanced toward the closest table, where the scampi-eating couple had moved on to

feeding each other bites of something that looked like roasted yam. She turned back to Mac and gave

him her sweetest, most angelic smile. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He stared at her for two breaths, unblinking. Then he reached out, grabbed the edge of her chair,

and jerked her toward him. She squeaked in surprise, nearly toppling from the chair, but he caught her

with one hand on her bare thigh. Her flesh tingled and her brain spun dizzily. Mac’s face was inches

from hers now, and she felt her heart lodge in her throat.

“Yes,” he murmured, his breath ruffling her hair. “I would.”

He didn’t wait for her to respond. He slid one massive palm between her thighs, parting them just

enough to move his fingers up. Kelli gasped as he grazed her most sensitive flesh. He was gentler than

she expected, but still rough, still in control as the pads of his fingers made one slow, gentle circle,

then another.

She started to resist—to wrestle control back from him and keep the conversation moving in the

direction she’d chosen. But his touch felt too damn good.

She moaned and moved her thighs apart. Breeze from the ceiling fan brushed her bare skin as the

ocean crashed in the distance and the scent of pineapple daiquiris wafted over from the bar. Mac

circled her with his fingertip, barely moving, but shockwaves of pleasure rocketed though her core.

He smiled. “And now I know.”

She licked her lips. “Now you know,” she whispered, thankful he didn’t know the half of it. What

was really going on in her head.

“Tell me something,” he said, taking a sip of his wine as he looked away from her and surveyed the

room with a look of perfect nonchalance. “Do you find eschewing panties keeps you in a constant

state of arousal?”

“What?” Kelli breathed, her brain too addled to grasp the question.

Mac set his wineglass on the table and leaned back in his chair, fingers still working their magic

under the table. “It’s either that, or you got wet the second I touched your thigh. Which is it, darling?”

She pressed against his hand, ignoring his words and savoring his actions instead. His fingers

moved between her legs with a certainty that surprised her. She gasped as he plunged into her, curling

his finger in a come-hither motion.

“My, my,” he said. He picked up his napkin, spreading it over his lap in a gesture the other patrons

would probably mistake for politeness.

But there was nothing polite about what he was doing under the table. She stifled a moan as his

fingers glided expertly over her sensitive folds, teasing, stroking, caressing.

Her breath was coming fast now, her hands clammy as she gripped the edge of the table. She could

still take charge again. Get a grip on herself and the situation and keep things safe and flirty.

Then Mac drove deeper into her while his thumb made languid strokes across her clit, and all of

herself-control melted away like the ice in her water glass.

Mac picked up his glass and took another sip of wine, his expression stoic as he surveyed the other

patrons in the restaurant. A waiter whisked fajitas onto a plate at the next table, the bright red peppers

sizzling and hissing. A woman at the bar took a bite of chocolate flan and moaned with pleasure.

Kelli dug her nails into her palms and stifled a groan.

Mac slid another finger into her.

This time, she moaned aloud as his thumb caressed her again. She was growing dizzy, the heat

building inside her as her brain throbbed and her thighs clenched and her toes curled in her shoes and

—

“Oh, God!”

She brought her napkin to her lips, smothering her cries as he plunged into her. Small explosions

seized her from the inside, pulsing out with the rhythm of his fingers. She knocked over her water

glass and prayed the waiter didn’t rush over to mop it up. Another wave of pleasure hit her with more

force than the last, throwing her back in her chair as his thumb stroked her.

When the swells of sensation ebbed away, Kelli felt herself drifting back to earth. Mac drained the

last of his wine, the faintest hint of a smile quirking his lips. She slammed her thighs together and

pushed his hand away. His smugness should have brought her crashing back to earth, but it didn’t. Not

entirely.

She felt too damn good.

She took a breath and righted her water glass, crossing her legs beneath the table. Her heart was

throbbing in her ears, and she had to grip the napkin in her lap to keep her hands from shaking.

“You’re all wet,” Mac said.

“No kidding.”

He smiled. “I mean your water glass. Let me get the waiter over here to clean it up.”

“Just give me a minute,” she said, her voice high and shaky as she struggled to regain control of it.

“The game. This or that?”

Mac raised an eyebrow. “We’re still playing?”

“Of course.” She grabbed his water glass and took a big gulp, then another. When she set it down,

she noticed her hands had stopped shaking. She turned back to Mac, feeling duly fortified.

“End world hunger, or create world peace?” She turned her face up toward the fan, wondering if

her cheeks were as flushed as they felt.

Mac studied her, his expression infuriatingly self-satisfied. “Dish it out, or take it?” He smiled.

“Wait, I can answer that one for you. Certainly not the latter, hmm?”

“What?”

“The teasing. This wrestling for control. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

“Right. Um, well, I believe I asked my question first. World peace or—uh—something like that.”

He smiled. “Very well. I’m inclined to suggest world peace and ending world hunger aren’t an

either/or proposition. I know enough about politics and social economics to believe if you solved

one, it would likely solve the other. Morning person or night owl?”

“Night owl,” Kelli replied, using her napkin to blot at the water spill as her heart rate returned to

normal. “You?”

“Depends on what duty requires of me.”

“But which comes more naturally to you?”

“That is what comes naturally to me.”

“Duty?”

“Yes.”

“Not pleasure?”

“Sometimes, the two overlap.”

Kelli nodded, understanding him better than she had all week. Maybe ever.

She took another sip of water and recrossed her still-shaky legs.

Chapter Seven

Kelli spent the next morning lounging by the pool, alternately paging through Mac’s questionnaire and

fretting about the night before.

What the hell had she been thinking?

First the groping in the car. Then the situation in the closet. Then, the orgasm in the restaurant.

Was she crazy?

You came here hoping to tease him, her subconscious reminded her. To have fun with the guy

you’ve been crushing on for years, but never really knew. To make him lose his mind with lust.

It seemed like Mac had other ideas. Who was really doing the teasing here? Was it a control thing

for him, or something else?

She remembered the way he’d touched her in the car, so confident and purposeful.

She thought about the way he moaned and moved against her in the closet, the feel of his hot skin

against her nipples, the ripple of muscle hard against her own softness.

She remembered his fingers inside her, his thumb moving like he knew the location of every nerve

in her body.

Three of the hottest sexual encounters of your life, and you haven’t even slept with him.

Sighing, Kelli set the paperwork aside and picked up her phone. She glanced around the pool,

making sure none of the household staff was nearby. Maria had gone into town. Hank and Brian were

holed up in the office, though they kept checking on her every few minutes. The two bodyguards Mac

had assigned to watch her were out of earshot on opposite sides of the patio. She wasn’t entirely sure

they spoke English anyway, so she punched in the number for Sheri and waited.

“Hey, girl!” Sheri answered on the first ring. “How’s everything going with Operation Seduce My

Jerk Brother?”

Kelli crossed her legs on the chaise, grateful for the warmth in her friend’s voice. “For a military

brat, you’re surprisingly terrible at coming up with names for covert operations.”

“Give me a break. I’m the mother of two eight-month-old twins and the fiancée of the hottest guy on

the planet. I slept three hours last night and my brain is like a shriveled raisin. So things are going

well?”

“Great,” Kelli said a little too brightly. “I’m sweet, demure, delicate, and classy.”

“In other words, totally full of crap.”

“Pretty much.” She smiled to herself, thinking demure probably didn’t describe her behavior in the

closet last night, nor was her performance at the restaurant particularly classy. She cleared her throat

and forced herself to stay with the conversation. “Mac saved me from a carjacker yesterday.”

“What?”

She glanced toward the bodyguards, hesitating for an instant. Mac had said the attack had nothing to

do with Zapata, so it should be safe to talk about. She leaned back against the chaise and proceeded

to share the story, wrapping up with a dramatic description of the cantaloupe-covered wedding gown

and Mac crouched on the hood of the car looking like a fruit-wielding assassin.

“Holy shit,” Sheri said. “You could have been killed.”

“No I couldn’t. Mac was watching out for me.” She was taken aback by the certainty in her own

voice. “He takes the protector thing pretty seriously.”

“Too seriously, if you want my opinion.”

“How do you mean?”

“My brother has spent his whole life making himself an emotional iceberg so his feelings don’t get

in the way of his ability to protect people. It’s kind of an art form with him.”

“Beats the hell out of papier-mâché,” Kelli said, shifting a little in her lounge chair as she filed that

insight away in her mental Rolodex. “Anyway, things are going well. Great, I mean. Really great.

Mac is amazing.”

God, she sounded like an idiot. On the other end of the line, Sheri was quiet.

“You’re not falling in love with him, right?” she asked. “I mean, you’ve always had a thing for my

brother, but I thought it was just lust, and—”

“Don’t worry,” she said, licking her lips and infusing her voice with her normal, lighthearted

perkiness. “I only do lust. Not love. That’s why I’m here, right?”

“Right.” Sheri didn’t sound convinced, but she was a good enough friend to let it drop. “Mac called

last night. He sounded a little rattled. You must’ve done something to shake up his image of you as

sweet, demure, and wholesome?”

Kelli laughed. “I jerked him off in his closet, then let him finger me in a restaurant.”

“That’ll do it. All that within the first forty-eight hours?”

“All that in a two-hour span. I’m nothing if not efficient.”

“And this is why I love you. Well, and because you buy me sex toys for my birthday. So have you

slept with him, or is he holding out on you with the full-meal deal?”

“For now I’m stealing fries from his Happy Meal,” Kelli said. “I’m working my way up to

demanding the super-sized combo.”

“Atta girl. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want anyone getting hurt here.”

“Please. If there were Olympic medals for avoiding emotional attachment, your brother and I would

both be vying for gold.”

“About that, Kel. I know your parents did a number on you, and I don’t blame you for having issues

with abandonment, but—”

“It’s okay, really,” Kelli interrupted, her voice so bright it hurt her ears. “Seriously, I’m fine. So,

uh—is the temp vet taking good care of my clinic?”

Sheri didn’t respond right away. Kelli fiddled with the tie on her bikini bottoms, hoping her friend

would just let it drop.

“The best,” Sheri said at last. “I checked on him yesterday, just like you asked. All is well.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem. I should probably get back to the boys. It was good hearing from you, Kel.”

“You, too. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. Stay safe. And don’t fall for my idiot brother.”

“Not a chance.” She hung up hoping like hell that was true.

The last thing she needed was to get attached to someone whose entire existence revolved around

avoiding emotional involvement. Wasn’t that a recipe for a broken heart? A woman terrified of

abandonment falling for a guy hell-bent on never staying with anyone. Talk about ridiculous.

She pushed all thoughts of emotional entanglement and abandonment out of her mind and spent the

rest of the day reviewing Mac’s files. At five, she went upstairs to get changed. She chose an Emilio

Pucci dress—strapless, of course, no bra—and a pair of Louboutin nude peep-toe heels that added an

extra four inches to her frame. She spritzed on her favorite jasmine perfume, then studied the small

stash of jewelry she’d brought with her.

She had a few costume pieces, but none of them looked quite right. She hesitated over the pearl-

drop necklace her mother had given her when she’d turned twelve. The necklace had belonged to her

grandmother, but Kelli’s mom had added a tiny paw-print charm that left seven-year-old Kelli

swooning with delight.

Kelli’s mom had slurred her way through the wedding story as she presented the necklace to her

daughter. “Love’s fine and shit, but don’t count on men to give you what you need,” she’d mumbled.

“Men leave, you know. Can’t trust them to stick around and take care of you, so you’ve gotta get out

there yourself and grab life by the balls.”

“Okay, Mommy.”

Considering much of Kelli’s career involved lopping off testicles, she hadn’t strayed too far from

the advice. Kelli considered that, touching the pearls and the tiny paw-print charm. She took a deep

breath and turned from the mirror.

She walked downstairs with her heart in her throat, hoping she was adequately prepared to bluff

her way through a dinner party with a fake fiancé and a real arms dealer.

“Wow,” Mac said as Kelli descended the stairs. His gaze traveled the length of her legs, the curve

of her waist, the bare skin of her shoulders. He reached out to brush the silk hem of the dress.

“Is that chartreuse or aubergine?”

Kelli grinned and let him take her hand at the bottom of the steps, planting a chaste kiss across her

knuckles.

“It’s black, goofball,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it cost more than my condo. Thank you.”

“You look incredible. Griz will have a conniption.”

“Griz?”

“Griselda. Zapata’s wife. The one I—uh—”

“Screwed before you realized you also wanted to screw her husband in a different way?”

“You do have a way with words sometimes.”

“I’ll behave at dinner, I promise.”

“I don’t doubt it.” He led her to the car and handed her inside, opening and closing her door before

heading around to the driver’s side.

Once inside, he turned to her. “I wasn’t sure these would go with whatever you chose to wear, but

they seem to match your necklace.” He pulled a velvet box out of his jacket and opened it for her.

Kelli gasped, reaching out to touch the pearl-drop earrings as her other hand stroked the necklace at

her throat.

“Mac, they’re beautiful! How did you—”

“Lucky guess. I swear I didn’t snoop through your stuff. Not today, anyway.”

“I can’t decide if that’s the creepiest or most romantic thing ever,” she said, taking the box from

him and hooking the earrings in place.

“Let’s go with romantically creepy,” Mac said, and started the car. “They look perfect with your

necklace.”

“Thank you.”

Once they were on the road, Kelli cleared her throat. “So Zapata and his wife both speak English?”

“Yes. All our conversations will be in English, so you don’t have to worry.”

“I wasn’t worried.”

“I noticed. Your Spanish is very good.”

“Thank you. I’ve done volunteer vet work in El Salvador and Guatemala.”

“I know.”

Kelli cleared her throat again. “So tell me about Griselda.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Is she pretty? Smart? Flirty?”

Mac gave her a guarded look, an expression that had become all too familiar to Kelli. “I suppose

so. On all counts, I guess. Does it matter?”

“Yes. A real fiancée would be threatened by at least one of those things. Maybe not overtly, but

jealousy would rear its head at least a little.”

“Hmm. That makes sense. So you’re deliriously in love with me and leery of my former mistress?”

“And you’re completely smitten with me and blind to her charms.”

Mac smiled and turned onto the highway. “I think we can manage that.”

They chatted easily for the drive from Mac’s place in Todos Santos to Zapata’s place outside San

Jose del Cabo. By the time they arrived at the stucco mansion on the cliffs overlooking the ocean,

Kelli was beginning to feel relaxed.

Okay, maybe not relaxed. But as calm as she could be, considering she was a fake fiancée in a

borrowed dress and too-high heels preparing to meet a vicious arms dealer and his vixen wife. At

least she had Mac. And at least she might not have to try all that hard to appear smitten with him. Her

lifelong crush had given her plenty of practice.

Mac parked the car in front of an elaborate stucco mansion. Kelli swallowed hard as she looked up

at the home, noticing the elaborate brickwork, the staggering ocean views, the armed guards at every

corner.

Mac walked around the side of the car and opened her door. Kelli hesitated, feeling nervous all of

a sudden. He smiled and offered his arm.

“You’ll do great,” he murmured. “I promise.”

“Any last words of advice?”

“Take my lead. Smile a lot, don’t say much, and try to look as ridiculously in love with me as you

can muster.”

“Got it.” She fought the urge to salute and settled for raising one manicured hand for him to grasp.

He pulled her gracefully to her feet, and she wobbled a bit on the heels. Mac steadied her, cupping

her elbow in one of his large palms. She held tight to his arm and let him lead her to the front door.

Her heart was in her throat as Mac rang the bell, then pulled off his sunglasses as footsteps

approached the door.

“Breathe,” Mac whispered.

“Okay.”

“You’ve got this.”

She gave him a weak smile, and Mac smiled back, then squeezed her arm.

She turned back to the door, waiting for a servant to greet them. When the door jerked open, Kelli

jumped in surprise. She took two steps back as a petite brunette in a Prada dress cried out, then

launched herself into Mac’s arms.

“Oh my God,” the woman sobbed into the front of Mac’s shirt as Mac looked down with alarm.

“Something horrible has happened!”

…

The sight of Griselda sobbing and hysterical sent a rocket of ice down Mac’s spine. He felt the pinch

of the shoulder holster holding his pistol beneath his suit jacket, and calculated how quickly he could

detach Griz and push both women behind him while drawing the weapon to defend them against

whatever waited inside.

Mac rested one hand on Griselda’s back as her arms twisted around his neck and she sobbed into

his coat. He shot a look at Kelli, knowing she was probably terrified. She met his eye with a

questioning look.

“Go back to the car,” Mac whispered. “Let me assess things here and—”

“Don’t leave me!” Griselda wailed. “Come quickly, both of you.”

With that, Griz grabbed Mac by one arm, Kelli by the other, and pulled them into the foyer. Mac

was on high alert now, his hand reaching for the pistol, his eyes scanning the room for the threat, for a

body on the floor, for a hostage situation for—

“A lizard?”

Mac blinked as Zapata stepped into the room cradling something that looked vaguely like a

dinosaur. Judging from the slump of Zapata’s shoulders, it had to weigh fifty pounds. The animal

flicked its tongue at Mac, assessing him as though he were a meal.

“An Argentine black and white tegu,” Kelli whispered reverently, her bare arm brushing Mac as

she step forward. “He’s beautiful.”

“He’s dying; we must take him to the hospital now,” Zapata barked, his accent more pronounced

than normal as his eyes made a frantic scan of the guests. “I apologize for dinner, but we must go

quickly.”

Mac looked at Kelli, who was studying the large reptile with professional calmness. He felt a surge

of pride as he touched her arm.

“I may not have mentioned it, Señor Zapata,” Mac said. “but my fiancée is a veterinarian.”

The arms dealer looked at Kelli with wide eyes. “This is true? Dios mío, you will look at Felix?”

“Of course,” Kelli said, setting her purse on a bench beside the door and taking a step forward.

“What seems to be the problem?”

“His manhood,” Griselda wailed. “It has exploded.”

Mac winced as Zapata angled the large lizard up and he caught sight of something that did indeed

look like an exploded manhood.

“Holy shit,” Mac murmured. “His dick blew up. They probably didn’t cover that one in vet

school?”

“Of course they did, sweetie,” Kelli replied, looking bizarrely calm. “It’s a prolapsed hemipenis,

very common in reptiles.”

All three pairs of eyes swung to her, looking baffled. “A hemi-what?” Mac asked.

Kelli was already crouching low, inspecting the lizard from beneath. “A hemipenis or hemipene.

Many kinds of reptiles have not one, but two intromittent sex organs everted for reproduction via

erectile tissue. The hemipene is one half of the paired, erectile, copulatory organ protruded through

the cloaca.”

Mac blinked, as distracted by the view down the front of Kelli’s dress as he was by the words

coming from her mouth. “Lizards have two penises?”

“Sure, so do snakes, sharks, koalas, kangaroos—well, technically the marsupials have a bifurcated

penis, which is more like one penis that splits into two.” She looked up at their dumbstruck hosts from

her position on the floor at their feet. “Have you had him long?”

“Only a few weeks,” Zapata said. “He was a gift from a collector. Is he dying?”

“No, but we need to treat him. He’s not going to be able to retract the organ on his own. Where is

your bathroom?”

Griselda touched a hand to her throat and sniffed loudly. “There’s a powder room down that

hallway and to the left.”

“Not a powder room, a bathroom. With a bathtub.” Kelli stood up and looked at Griselda. “I need

you to bring me sugar and some mineral oil. If you don’t have mineral oil, we can use a sexual

lubricant like KY Jelly, if you have it.”

Griselda blinked, then nodded. “The kind that warms when you blow on it?”

“I don’t think Felix is too picky about that.” Kelli turned to Zapata. “Let’s bring him into the

bathroom and start running a warm bath. Have you bathed him before?”

Zapata shook his head, looking nothing like the ruthless arms dealer Mac knew him to be. “I did not

know I needed to.”

“It’s okay. I just wanted to know how he tolerates water. Most tegus are fond of it, especially if we

run the water a bit warm. Mac, would you grab my purse? There’s a little medical kit I need.”

Mac stared, dumbfounded. “You brought a medical kit to dinner?”

“I never leave home without it. Come, let’s get to work.”

Mac brought up the rear, feeling ridiculous holding a beaded purse and marching behind his fake

fiancée, his ex-girlfriend, and notorious arms dealer carrying a double-dicked lizard. Griselda fell

into step beside her husband carrying a five-pound bag of sugar and a half-used tube of KY Jelly.

How the hell did I end up here? Mac wondered, as they paraded down the hall.

By the time he reached the bathroom, Kelli was already kicking off her shoes. She climbed into the

tub, running water over her bare feet as she tested the temperature with her fingers. Mac resisted the

urge to admire her butt as she bent down to plug the tub.

“This bathtub, it was just cleaned,” Griselda offered helpfully. Beside her, Zapata was cooing

something unintelligible into the lizard’s ear. Did lizards have ears? Mac wasn’t sure, and obviously

wasn’t too familiar with the anatomy of reptiles. Two penises? Holy shit.

“May I have the sugar, please?” Kelli asked, stepping out of the tub.

Griselda handed her the bag without comment, and Kelli dumped a generous amount into the tub

and swished it around with her hand. Then she held out her arms. “May I please have Felix?”

Zapata eyed her with surprised. “He is very heavy, be careful.”

Kelli gave him a smile. “I do this sort of thing all the time.”

Mac nodded trying to look like a man accustomed to seeing his beautiful fiancée fixing lizard

penises in a bathtub. “First you perform dog surgery in a wedding gown, and now you’re fixing lizard

dicks in a cocktail dress.”

“It is a beautiful dress,” Griselda said earnestly.

“Thank you,” Kelli said, wrapping her arms around the lizard and pulling him to her chest. “Mac

helped me choose it last night.”

She smiled at Mac, a flicker of mischief in her eye as she held the massive lizard against her

breasts. She stepped toward the sugar bath, cooing to the creature as she moved. “Here we go, big

guy. We’ll get that pork sword back in place in no time.”

The lizard flicked its tongue and gave Mac a look he could have sworn was smug. Mac bent down

so he was eye level with Felix. “Don’t get too comfortable, buddy. She’s going home with me.”

Kelli smiled and lowered the animal into the water. It was only a couple inches deep and liberally

laced with sugar. Mac expected Felix to thrash or fight, but he seemed to relax at once.

“What does the sugar water do?” Griselda asked.

“It’s one way to reduce the prolapse,” Kelli said, kneeling beside the tub and rubbing a handful of

sugar against the creature’s underside. “Right now, it’s too swollen to be pulled back into his body

where it belongs.”

“And the, uh—” Mac glanced at the tube of KY Jelly in Griselda’s hand. He looked away fast, not

certain what etiquette called for when one’s ex-girlfriend stood gripping a half-used tube of sexual

lubricant in the presence of her arms dealer husband and her ex-lover’s fake fiancée.

“The lubricant will allow me to slip the prolapsed hemipene back in place,” Kelli replied. “Then

I’ll use a purse-string suture to tighten the opening enough to hold both organs inside.”

“And you believe he will live?” Zapata asked.

“Odds are very good, yes,” Kelli said. “There doesn’t appear to be any infection, and we’re

catching it in time. Most male tegus copulate with the penis on the right, so there’s a good chance he

could still reproduce if you’d planned on doing that.”

“Good news, buddy,” Mac told the lizard, resting a hand on Kelli’s shoulder. He felt stupidly

proud, which was ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything.

He looked at Zapata, who wore a bewildered expression completely unlike anything Mac had seen

in his prior meetings with the man. The guy made multimillion dollar arms deals with terrorists and

ordered hits on his enemies, but he seemed completely undone by the lizard crisis.

Zapata looked at him and nodded. “Thank you. Both of you. I don’t know what I would have done

without you.” He shook Mac’s hand with ferocious warmth.

“It’s no problem,” Kelli called, her dress dragging in the water as she knelt to maneuver the lizard.

“That’s a nice boy, Felix. Does that feel good?”

“Can I answer for him?” Mac offered.

“He looks happier already,” Zapata said. “Doesn’t he look happy?”

The lizard flicked his tongue as Kelli probed his underside, and Mac nodded. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Can I get anyone a glass of wine?” Griz called. “Perhaps a cocktail.”

“Cocktail,” Kelli replied dodging Felix’s tail as he thrashed it. “Maybe later.”

Felix thrashed his tail again, splashing sugar water down the front of Kelli’s dress. She didn’t

move, but stroked his head to calm him. Mac moved into place beside Zapata, and they all stood

watching Kelli and the lizard.

“Okay, big boy,” she cooed. “I just need to touch your beef bayonet again.”

“That is the medical term?” Zapata asked.

“Should this be turning me on?” Mac asked.

“Shhh!” Griz ordered. “Let her work.”

“Very nice,” Kelli murmured, ignoring them all. “The swelling is already going down.”

“This really shouldn’t be hot,” Mac murmured.

“Be strong, Felix,” Zapata coached. “¡Fuerte!”

“Shhh!”

Kelli kept working, her expression serene and patient.

Zapata looked at Mac and shook his head in wonder. “Your bride—she is amazing. I had no idea.”

“She is amazing,” Mac replied, looking back at her.

And I had no idea, either.

“I’m going to give him a few more minutes to soak,” Kelli said. “If you’re at all squeamish, you

might not want to stick around for the next part. The suturing process isn’t pretty.”

Griselda paled at that and glanced at her husband. “Come. Let us check on dinner and find

something for Ms. Landers to change into when she is finished.”

“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Kelli said. “Mac? Would you mind sticking around and giving

me a hand?”

He stooped down beside her, barely noticing as he knelt in a puddle of water. “Fondling a lizard in

a bathtub full of sugar water,” he murmured. “Not how I pictured this night going.”

Kelli grinned. “Your life with me is full of surprises.”

“Don’t I know it,” he replied, and braced himself to give a lizard a handjob.

Chapter Eight

By the time Kelli finished the final stitch and set aside her needle holders, she was soaked to the

bone.

So is Mac, she thought admiringly, glancing at the front of his trousers in appreciation. She turned

and washed her hands at the sink as Felix flicked his tongue from the freshly dried bathtub Kelli had

lined with clean, soft towels.

“We’ll want to keep him isolated there for a little while, but that went well,” she said. “He should

be fine in a few days.”

“That was incredible,” Mac said.

“Aw, I’m sure you say that to all the girls who fix lizard penises.”

Mac laughed and lifted the pile of clothes Griselda had just handed him. “You sure you’re still up

for dinner? They said we can postpone for another night.”

Kelli shook her head and began repacking her medical kit. “This is a business dinner, and you need

to talk business.” She hesitated, not sure how much to say, since Mac had already warned her the

bathroom was likely bugged. She settled for nodding at the pile of clothes. “As long as there’s

something in there that’ll fit me, I say let’s do it now.”

“You’re a real trooper, you know that?”

She grinned, thinking that was one of the nicest things he’d ever said to her. After all these years of

not being noticed by Mac, it felt odd to suddenly have him so aware of her.

“Will Felix be okay in here for now?” he asked.

“Yes, as long as we close the toilet lid and make sure there are no small spaces he can climb into.

Tegus are very curious by nature, and they can hurt themselves wedging their bodies into too-tight

spaces.”

“Judging from where you just put those stitches, Felix probably won’t be wedging himself into

anyone’s tight spaces for a little while.”

Kelli laughed and closed up her kit. “Shall we see what sort of clothing our hosts provided?”

She turned and began pawing through the pile while Mac locked the bathroom door to offer some

privacy. Griselda was a good six inches taller and three times bustier, so Kelli gave a dubious look at

the pair of strapless cocktail dresses she’d brought. She didn’t doubt there was a touch of female

passive-aggression at play.

“You saved my lizard, so let me repay you by making sure you look like a six-year-old playing

dress-up in mommy’s gown,” Kelli muttered under her breath as she held up one of the dresses.

Mac held up a black gown. “That’s Griz for you. How about this one? It looks like it might fit.”

Kelli eyed the black garment and shrugged. “Sure, I’ll give it a shot.”

She started to reach for it, but Mac pulled it back. “You know, after all you’ve done here this

evening, the least I can do is help you get dressed.”

Kelli rolled her eyes and reached for the dress. “Your control-freak tendencies are admirable, but

I’m pretty sure I can dress myself.”

“I insist,” Mac said, tossing the dress behind him on the counter and reaching for her. He pulled her

into his arms and spun her around, making it clear he had more in mind than helping with her clothing.

She shivered with pleasure as his fingers found the zipper at the back of her gown. He slid it down

slowly, taking his time, tantalizing her. She gasped as his fingertips grazed her spine, tracing a soft

line on her flesh as he drew the zipper down, down, down.

“So you decided to go braless,” he murmured, his voice low in her ear as he breathed against her

neck. “Good choice.”

“Thank you.”

“Are these panties or gift wrap?”

“Are you mocking my butt-bow?”

“On the contrary, I’m admiring.”

The zipper hit the bottom and Kelli felt the fabric fall away and drop to the floor. He gripped her

by the rib cage, turning her around to face him. She looked up into his eyes wearing only her thong

and a smile. “Well then,” she said, licking her lips. “Admire away.”

Mac’s eyes were molten as he slid his palms to her ass and pulled her hard against his body. She

went willingly, arching her back to press her breasts against his sodden shirt. She moaned and twined

her hands behind his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him back as fiercely as she dared. His pants

were damp from the bath, his muscles hot and hard beneath the fabric. His kiss grew more fierce with

a possessiveness that left her panting.

Kelli slid her hands between their bodies, lingering over the muscles in his chest. Her fingers

fumbled with one button, then the next and the next until his bare chest was pressed against hers.

She pushed the shirt over his shoulders, and reached for his belt. Mac drew back, breathless.

“God, I want you.”

She smiled and unhooked his belt. “The feeling’s mutual.”

He shoved the pants down over his hips and kicked them aside, his hands barely leaving her body.

He kissed her again, and Kelli tasted sugar water and sweat. She’d never hungered for anything this

much in her life.

His hands were on her ass, kneading, cupping, stroking. The only thing separating them now was

the thin lace of her thong, and that was hardly protection. He was hard and throbbing against her, and

she wanted him so badly she cried out.

“Please,” she gasped.

He smiled down at her, not bothering to ask what she wanted. He clasped his hands around her hips

and boosted her onto the counter. Then he hooked his thumbs under the waist of her panties and drew

them down, baring her completely.

She reached for him, needing to feel him inside her that instant, but Mac drew back.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “I want to taste you.”

Before she could say a word, Mac dropped to his knees on the tile floor. With one hand on each of

her thighs, he pushed them apart. Kelli gasped and gripped the handle of the sink handle for balance.

He moved between her legs, his tongue probing gently at first. He made slow, deliberate circles, his

mouth warm and wet as his fingers dug hard into her thighs.

Everything was a rush of sensation and liquid warmth as he teased and tasted, sliding up and down,

dipping his tongue into her before drawing back to circle again and again. He released one thigh and

moved his hand up. Gently, he slid one finger into her. Kelli cried out and gripped this sink handle,

spurting her backside with a gush of tap water.

Mac laughed and licked into her. “You’re already plenty wet.”

Kelli groaned and tried to remember how to turn off a faucet as she concentrated on the feel of his

tongue surrounding her, his fingers moving deep inside her. He slid in and out, his tongue working in

soft rhythm as he thrust deeply into her, a solid counterpoint to the softness of his mouth.

She felt something building inside her and released the sink to twine her fingers into his hair.

“Mac,” she panted.

She only had breath for that one syllable before the first wave of pleasure crashed into her, rocking

her back against the mirror as her heels smacked the cupboard. She cried out, turning her face into her

arm and biting down to muffle her own screams as her body clenched around him. His mouth was

everywhere at once, licking, tasting, stroking as his fingers moved. She arched up, pressing into the

sensation as her back slid against the mirror and her body surged again and again and again.

She couldn’t remember closing her eyes, but she opened them as the last wave of pleasure ebbed.

Mac was standing now, his face glowing and tense with need. Before she could gather herself, he was

reaching into his wallet for a condom.

He looked into her eyes, a brief invitation to refuse if she wished. She reached for him instead.

“Please,” she gasped again, sliding the condom the rest of the way on. Mac grabbed her roughly,

catching her hips in his hands as he drew her back to the edge of the counter.

He moved slowly at first, easing himself inside her, giving her a chance to adjust. She groaned and

clenched her legs around him, digging her heels into his low back to urge him on. She tilted her head

back and he claimed her mouth, kissing her hard and deep. He plunged into her again, harder this

time, and Kelli buried her face in the crook of her arm to keep from crying out.

His hands were hot and rough on her hips, holding her steady to meet his thrusts. He let go of her

with one hand and slid his fingers between them, the pad of his thumb gliding softly over her most

sensitive spot. Kelli cried out, dizzy with sensation. His thrusts were hard, but this soft, new pressure

was delicate, precise. He caressed, probed, teased, until she felt herself break again.

She screamed, biting down on his shoulder to muffle the sound as Mac drove into her, his own

voice rasping with pleasure as she felt him pulse inside her. The rhythm of his thrusts matched the

force of her own body’s spasms, and she rocked against him, breathless and dizzy and liquid with

sensation as they crashed together.

As her dizziness subsided, she was aware of Mac gazing down at her. She looked up to see the

smile in his eyes.

“Well now,” he said, drawing his hand from between their bodies to stroke softly over the bite

mark on her biceps. “We did an admirable job showing Felix how that’s done.”

“And with only one penis.”

Mac grinned. “You complaining?”

“Definitely not,” she gasped, planting a kiss on his shoulder. “Not in a million years.”

…

Dinner was surprisingly uneventful.

Or maybe it was everything that happened before dinner that made it all seem uneventful, Mac

mused as they headed home just after ten.

The only moment of drama had come when Griselda caught sight of the self-inflicted bite-mark on

Kelli’s upper arm.

“Oh, I’m so terribly sorry,” Griz gasped. “Felix—he does not know what he does when he is

excited.”

Flummoxed, Kelli had knocked over her glass of red wine, effectively cutting off that line of

questioning. Mac had done his best not to smirk at her as the maid rushed to clean it up.

“You’ve been spilling a lot of drinks lately,” he said, giving her a wry smile. “Should I be

concerned about a drinking problem?”

“Oh, I have a problem, all right,” she’d said, kicking him under the table.

Now they were back in the car with the balmy evening breeze brushing over their skin. Mac had

switched off the air-conditioning, savoring the wind in Kelli’s hair and the scent of her perfume in the

air.

“So you think we fooled them?” she asked, using her fingers to hold her hair at the nape of her neck.

Mac caught sight of the bite mark on her arm and smiled. “You mean did we convince them we

can’t keep our hands off each other? Pretty sure we nailed it.”

“So to speak.”

Mac laughed. “When you went to the powder room, Zapata asked if you were feeling okay.”

“What?”

“‘Your lady,’” Mac mimicked, a spot-on impression of Zapata, if he did say so himself. “‘She is

not well? I hear her groaning before dinner, and now she look—how you say? Flushed.’”

“Ugh.” Kelli closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat, releasing her hair to flutter around

her face again. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. And don’t worry—I assured Zapata you just had a raging stomach virus.”

She snorted. “Are you always this romantic, or are you saving it just for me?”

“Just for you,” Mac said, struck by how true that was. Had he ever felt so comfortable around a

woman, so at ease with goofball humor and easy conversation?

“Well, I hope it helped,” Kelli said. “When will you know more about the deal?”

“Soon,” Mac said, adjusting the rearview mirror. He caught sight of a dark sedan behind him,

moving slowly through the darkness with its high beams slicing through the night. How long had it

been back there?

“Griselda seemed nice.”

Mac turned his attention back to Kelli. “Griselda seemed much more reserved than normal.”

“How do you mean?”

“Normally, she’d have been trying to slip her hand down the front of my pants whenever her

husband left the room. Instead, she sat on the opposite side of the table and never made eye contact.”

“So sorry you were deprived.”

Mac grunted and checked the mirror again, noticing the dark sedan getting closer. He slowed,

waiting to see if the driver would pass or stay on his tail.

“Trust me, Kel—the last thing I’m feeling is deprived.”

She was quiet a moment, and Mac tore his eyes off the other car long enough to glance at her. “You

okay?”

“Me?” she asked. “Absolutely. Tonight was—well, incredible.”

“If you’re easily romanced by sex in a terrorist’s bathroom in the company of his injured lizard, I’d

have to agree.”

She gave a laugh that seemed a little uneasy and looked out the window. “I’ve never been one for

romance. A quickie on the bathroom counter is much more my style.”

Mac wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or insulted, so he settled for squeezing her knee. Kelli

smiled and curled her bare feet beneath her on the seat, looking small and delicate and sweet again.

How the hell did she do that?

Tearing his eyes off her, Mac looked in the mirror again, dismayed to see the other car wasn’t

passing. He dropped his speed, feeling edgy as they approached his house. Had someone followed

him here? It wasn’t one of the Town Cars, so it couldn’t be Hank keeping tabs on them.

The roads leading to his neighborhood were quiet, dotted with second homes and quiet residences

that didn’t see much action at this hour. Who the hell was following them?

“Mac?”

He turned and saw a pair of tension creases between her brows.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Mac slid a hand to the gun holstered at his side. He was just a few hundred feet from the house

now. Should he continue past and see if the car followed, or risk leading someone straight to his

house?

“The house is well guarded,” he said, as much for his own sake as for Kelli’s. “Someone’s on our

tail.”

“Oh.” She glanced behind them, her worried expression deepening. “We’re being followed?”

“It looks that way. Duck down, Kel. Keep your head below the dash.”

She obeyed, and Mac made the turn into his driveway. He hit a button on the dash that controlled

the intercom to the house. “Guys, we have visitors,” Mac said. “Full alert.”

He watched as the car turned into the driveway behind him. A dark sedan with tinted windows

masking the identity of the person inside. Mac swallowed hard and pulled the parking brake, his hand

steady as he reached for the pistol.

“Don’t move,” he told Kelli. “Not unless I come for you. Keep your head low.”

“Okay.”

Her voice was high and soft, and Mac wished he could just stay here and pull her against his chest,

stroking her hair and assuring her everything would be fine.

But duty called.

Mac reached for the door handle as he drew his gun with the other, wishing he had the Kevlar vest

he kept stowed in the trunk. He stepped out just as the rear door of the sedan swung open and

someone stepped out.

Mac felt his blood go cold.

“Dear God, no.”

Chapter Nine

Kelli sucked in a terrified breath as Mac’s words echoed in the night.

Dear God, no.

She kept her head down, just like he’d told her, and her pulse thrummed so loudly in her ears that

she thought her brain might explode. She held her breath, waiting for the gunshots, waiting for the

thundering footsteps of Mac’s bodyguards, waiting for—

“Is that seriously the way you’re going to great your mother, MacArthur Patton?”

Mother?

Kelli sat up, banging her head on the dash, as she peered through the window. Sure enough, there

was Stella Patton, looking exactly as she’d looked since the first time Kelli had gone home with Sheri

in second grade and Stella had explained they could only have a plate of cookies and milk if they

performed thirty minutes of KP duty, followed by a military circuit workout.

Stella had led the workout.

Kelli looked at Mac. He couldn’t have looked more dumbfounded if his mom had shown up naked

wearing a sombrero made of bacon.

“Mother,” Mac repeated, almost like he was willing himself to believe it. “What are you doing

here?”

“That’s precisely what I came to ask you, young man. Did you not think to tell me you’d gotten

engaged?”

“I—uh—”

“Mrs. Patton,” Kelli said, pushing open her car door and stepping onto the driveway to rescue her

fake groom. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”

“Kelli? Is that you, dear? Goodness, I haven’t seen you for ages. How have you been, sweetheart?”

Stella stepped forward and wrapped Kelli in a hug that smelled like gunpowder and Oil of Olay.

Kelli fell gratefully into it, catching sight of her dumbstruck groom over Stella’s shoulder.

“You’re on hugging terms with my mother?”

“Of course we are, honey,” Kelli replied. “I’ve been friends with your sister since second grade,

remember?”

“No—I mean, I guess I didn’t pay attention to my little sister’s friends, but I didn’t realize—”

Stella shook her head and regarded her eldest son with fond contempt. “MacArthur, how can

someone with such a genius for covert operations and world affairs be so utterly oblivious about

human relationships?”

Mac gritted his teeth, and Kelli almost felt sorry for him. If Sheri was right about her brother’s

hang-ups with emotional entanglements hindering his need to protect people, having his mother here

had to be messing with his mind.

“Good to see you, too, Mother.”

Stella stepped back and straightened her blouse before turning to regard Mac with a stern look.

“Don’t you get smart with me, young man. How is it that I had to hear through the grapevine that you’d

gotten engaged?”

Mac grimaced, but said nothing. Feeling sorry for him again, Kelli looped her arm through his and

gave her most angelic smile.

“Mrs. Patton, we wanted to surprise you. Mac had this lovely plan to fly you and Mr. Patton out

here for a visit and announce the engagement over dinner at our favorite restaurant. Isn’t that right,

sweetie?”

“Right,” Mac said, swallowing hard as he stared at his mother. “That’s right, darling.”

Kelli winced at the stiffness of his words, but Stella didn’t seem to notice. “So the two of you—

wait—you’re marrying Kelli? Sweetie, that’s wonderful.”

Stella threw herself at her son, beaming like she’d just won the lottery. Though Mac towered over

his mother by a good foot, it didn’t seem to matter as she wrapped her arms around him and did her

best to hoist him off the ground.

“Mom, don’t—you’ll hurt your back.”

“Don’t you tell me what to do, young man. I’ll have you know I endured thirty-eight hours of labor

to bring you into this world. I could throw you across the driveway if the mood struck me right.”

Kelli didn’t doubt it. She’d once stood at the edge of a military airport watching Stella land a

fighter jet—quickly, it so happened, since she was late to take the girls to a school carnival.

Stella Patton was the master of steel-handed mothering.

“Why don’t you come inside,” Kelli suggested, glancing at Mac to make sure he wasn’t preparing

to run. “We’ll just have Maria get a room ready for you, and—”

“The guest room is occupied,” Mac said suddenly. “Kelli is staying in it, and the household staff

occupies the other rooms, so it would probably be best if I found you a nice hotel in town. Someplace

safe with full-time guards.

“Kelli is in the guest room?” Stella raised an eyebrow at her. “You a born-again-virgin, missy?”

Kelli felt her cheeks go red as she remembered just how unvirginal she’d been just a few hours

ago. “We’re choosing not to cohabitate until after the wedding,” she said as sweetly as possible.

“Sweetheart, don’t even try to pull this prim-and-proper thing with me. I’ve known you since you

climbed to the top of the monkey bars and charged the boys a dollar apiece to see up your dress.”

“Must’ve been college?” Mac muttered under his breath.

Stella smacked him in the arm, then gestured toward the car. “Get my bags, MacArthur. Then you

can help your fiancée move her things into your room. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether you’re

going to be a gentleman and take the couch or if you two are going to stop being silly and old

fashioned.”

“This, coming from the woman who insisted good old-fashioned child rearing required you to wash

my mouth out with soap every time I said a curse word.”

“Don’t think I won’t do it again if you get smart with me.” She turned to Kelli, offering her arm.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go inside and you can tell me all about the wedding plans. My, those are

beautiful earrings. They look like they’d match the little necklace you used to wear. The one you got

from your mom. Do you still have that?”

“Have it? I’m wearing it. Look—”

Kelli reached down to touch the chain and froze. She looked down and gasped. “My necklace. It’s

gone!”

Mac frowned. “I noticed you weren’t wearing it in the car, but I thought maybe you took it off in the

bathtub.”

Kelli shook her head, fighting back tears. “It must have fallen off when I was taking care of Felix.

Or maybe after that when we were—”

She trailed off there, not wanting Stella to think she was more depraved than she already knew.

Mac squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure we get your necklace back.”

Stella beamed and nodded approvingly. “You can always count on MacArthur. A man of his word,

that one.”

Stella began tugging her toward the house, and Kelli stumbled to follow. She cast one quick look

over her shoulder at her groom. Mac stood numbly beside the car, the pistol dangling limply at his

side.

“This isn’t how arms deals are supposed to go,” Kelli heard her groom mutter as she drifted into

the house behind her new mother-in-law.

…

It was well after midnight when Mac watched Kelli stand up from the dining room table and yawn. “I

really appreciate all your insights about bridesmaid dresses, Mrs. Patton.”

“You can call me Stella now, sweetheart. We’re almost family.”

“Stella.”

“And don’t forget my idea about the wedding theme.”

“I’ll certainly consider having all the guests bring firearms and dress in World War II uniforms.”

She turned to Mac with a sleepy smile, and he felt his heart constrict. “I’m going to turn in now,

honey. Think you’ll be up shortly?”

“Soon,” Mac said, then realized it was the same answer he’d given her when she’d asked about the

arms deal. Funny how his life had become this strange blend of duplicitous sex and arms deals.

He was still thinking about it when Kelli bent down and pressed her lips to his. The kiss took him

by surprise, and Mac found himself pulling her onto his lap and kissing her soundly for three beats

before he realized what he was doing.

Jesus, man. Get control of yourself.

“Wow,” his mother exclaimed, setting her coffee cup down on the table. “I never thought I’d see the

day you’d display that sort of passion for anything besides assault weapons, MacArthur.”

Mac released Kelli, still too shaken by the kiss to come up with a snarky reply for his mom. Kelli

blinked up from where she was sprawled across his lap with her cheeks flushed and her lips so red

and kissable that he almost grabbed her again.

At last, she got to her feet and smiled. “Good night, sweetie.”

She pressed three fingertips to her lips, kissed them sweetly, and pressed them to Mac’s forehead.

The skin was still tingling as he turned back to his mother.

“Well, well, well,” she began, smiling at him in a way that made Mac feel like an ill-behaved

toddler. “I have to admit, I never thought I’d see the day.”

Mac cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table. “Yes, well, it was certainly a surprise.”

“To you, maybe. Anyone with eyes could have seen that girl’s been pining for you her whole life.”

“What?”

“Honestly, MacArthur, you can be so dense. Kelli’s been sweet on you from the time she was little.

Of course, you hardly noticed she was alive, but I always knew it was just a matter of time.”

He blinked, trying not to show how utterly baffled he was by this piece of information. “Kelli had

feelings for me?”

“Well, I don’t know if I’d go that far. Kelli had a case of the hots for you, which is a different thing

entirely. It was probably for the best you didn’t realize it.”

“Why’s that?”

His mother shrugged and stood up to rinse her coffee cup. “I always knew she’d take a long time to

be ready for any sort of relationship. A crush, sure. But a real relationship—” She seemed to stop

herself there, considering. “Between her father leaving and her mother’s suicide and then spending

her teen years in foster homes, it’s no surprise she’s been skittish about being abandoned again. I’m

just glad she finally found someone she can count on.”

The words hit Mac like a punch to the gut. He wasn’t sure whether to hate himself for lying to his

mother, or for taking risks with Kelli’s heart. Either way, he felt like a grade-A dickhead.

His mother beamed, oblivious to his self-flagellation. “I’m just glad things finally worked out. It’s

good to see you so happy, MacArthur. You are happy, right?”

For an instant, he felt her gaze slicing through him. He felt like he had the time he’d stolen his

father’s drill-sergeant whistle and his mother had known somehow, interrogating him until he finally

admitted his transgression.

“I’m happy,” Mac parroted, doing his best to keep his voice neutral and confident.

His mother studied him, unblinkingly. Then she nodded. “Good.” She was quiet awhile, seeming to

consider her next words. “I’ve always worried about you, MacArthur. Much more than the others.”

Mac swallowed, projecting a coolness he didn’t really feel. “Oh?”

“I know you always blamed yourself. That you’ve saddled yourself with this massive sense of guilt

and responsibility because of what happened to—”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Don’t you think I know that?”

Her eyes suddenly glittered with tears, and Mac felt a horrible wave of shame and sadness. He

leaned forward to hug her, but she waved him away, fighting to regain her composure.

“It’s important that I say this, MacArthur. Now that you’re on the brink of having a wife and a

family of your own. It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

“Right.”

The lie sounded dull even to his own ears, so he didn’t really expect her to believe it. She shook

her head sadly, then laid her hand on his. “Someday, MacArthur. Someday, you’ll really believe

that.”

They sat in silence for a few beats, neither of them knowing what to say next. There was a dull ache

in the pit of Mac’s stomach. He already felt worried about his ability to protect Kelli. About how this

new level of intimacy would affect his ability to keep her safe. Now he had to worry about his

mother, too?

Mac jumped when she smacked the back of his hand.

“You should go to her,” she commanded.

“What?”

“Your fiancée. You should tuck her in, make sure she’s gotten settled in the new room.”

“Mother. I don’t think—”

“That’s actually your problem, MacArthur. You do think—entirely too much, if you want my

opinion. You’re all in your head, trying to anticipate how to control situations and people, but you

don’t stop to feel.”

Mac swallowed, completely taken off guard. “I do feel.”

“I know you do, baby. I saw how you looked at Kelli. And I’m so glad you finally found each other.

Just don’t overthink things into the ground with her, okay? Get over your need to control everything

and just feel. You’ve got a good thing there, and I want to see you keep it forever.”

Forever.

The word echoed hollow in Mac’s ears as he stood up. God, she was going to kill him when he

found out this whole thing was a lie. How had he not anticipated his mother finding out? He was

losing control here, losing his grip on a situation that was already much too dangerous.

He leaned down to kiss her on the cheek, he wrapped his arms around her more tightly than he

meant to. “Good night, Mom. I’m glad you came.”

“Me, too, baby. Me, too.”

As Mac headed up the stairs, he was surprised to realize he actually meant what he said. He was

happy to see his mother. To talk with her, to have her part of the wedding plans, and giggle with his

fiancée about—

He stopped himself, frozen on the threshold of the doorway. Get it together, man. This is the last

thing in the world you want. The engagement is a sham, and now you’ve got two women you care

about who need you to stay focused enough to protect them.

“Mac?”

Kelli’s voice was faint from inside the master bedroom. He hesitated, then turned the knob and

walked in.

She was already tucked under the covers, the bloodred duvet pulled up to her chin. She looked

small and delicate with her freshly scrubbed face and tousled hair. He ached to crawl in beside her.

He steadied himself, then shut the door behind him.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he said.

“Are you insane?”

“I’m being a gentleman.”

“There’s a fine line between the two.” Kelli grinned and patted the bed beside her. “In case you’ve

forgotten, you were buried inside me less than five hours ago. Can we drop the pretense of being

sweet and chaste with each other?”

Mac shook his head, then covered the distance from the doorway to the bed in two steps. “How I

ever bought your pretense of sweetness and chastity is beyond me,” Mac said, pouncing on the bed so

fast her eyes flew wide. “The question now is what are we going to do about it?”

She smiled. “You have some serious control issues. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Once or twice.”

“Know what I think we should do?”

Mac felt a twinge of pleasure between his legs, losing himself to the purr of her voice. “What?”

“This.”

She tossed the covers back and threw one leg over him. Dumbstruck, Mac fell backward on the bed

with Kelli landing on top of him, her wild curls falling over one eye.

He was still trying to figure out what hit him when the handcuffs clicked into place.

Chapter Ten

Mac pulled against the handcuff binding his wrist to the headboard. “What the—”

“There!” she said triumphantly, latching the other cuff into place as she sat back on her heels and

smiled. “I knew the second I laid eyes on this bed that this old iron would be sturdy enough. It’s

practically made for this, don’t you think?”

Don’t think.

Mac grimaced, disturbed to have his mother’s words echoing in his ears at a moment like this. He

strained against the cuffs, his instincts urging him to struggle, to fight, to free himself.

Well, some of his instincts.

The rest wanted to see what Kelli had planned.

“I’ll make you pay for this,” he murmured, only half kidding.

“I’ll leave the money on the nightstand in the morning,” she chirped. “For now, I have other ideas.”

She reached for his shirt and began slowly unfastening buttons. She popped one, then the next, then

another, until she pushed the shirt open, baring his chest.

“Very nice, MacArthur,” she purred. “I see your mommy made you eat your vegetables and get your

exercise.”

“My mommy made me do military workouts every morning before I got my Malt-O-Meal,” he said

through gritted teeth, groaning as Kelli trailed her fingers down his chest, teasing him with light

strokes. She leaned down, brushing her curls over his bare skin, the breath of jasmine light on the air

as she moved.

She leaned back on her heels again as she studied him. “You have very sensitive nipples for a man,

you know that?”

Mac groaned and yanked at the cuffs, fighting alternating waves of panic and lust. He’d actually

freed himself from a pair of handcuffs in a military prison once by dislocating his thumb, but now

didn’t seem like the right time to mention that.

“Speaking of nipples,” he said, “I promise to make yours feel very nice if you uncuff me right this

minute.”

Kelli laughed and rested her hand on his chest. “I can do that just fine on my own, thank you very

much. As a matter of fact, I’ll let you help.”

She reached for the hem of her tank top and lifted the garment over her head. She tugged her arms

free, her hair flying in static-charged ringlets as she tossed the top aside. He stared at her breasts, his

mouth watering as he remembered what they’d felt like in his hands, in his mouth, pressed against his

chest. He ached to touch her. He jerked on the cuffs again, wondering how she’d managed to seize

control. He’d let his guard down again, goddammit.

Why was that so thrilling?

“Now,” she began, moving to straddle him. “What was that you said about making my nipples feel

good?”

She leaned down, teasing him with her breasts. She brushed them lightly across his skin, the soft

points of her nipples tracing delicate lines through his chest hair and over his abdomen. Mac groaned,

surprised by the intensity of the sensation.

Kelli took her time moving over him. She went back to tickling him with her hair, the fragrant curls

drifting across his neck, down his belly, across his belt line. She arched up again, her breasts

pressing into him. She trailed them up his stomach and over his ribs, then up the underside of his arm.

She made it all the way to his wrist before Mac tried to grab her, aching for just two seconds of

feeling her in his palm.

“Ah-ah-ah,” she cooed, moving away. “This is my show.”

She leaned down, positioning her nipple over his mouth. Mac opened his mouth to take in as much

of her as he could. He circled the firm nub with his tongue, making her gasp with pleasure. She

lingered there for a minute, her weight on his chest, her softness in his mouth, as she moved against

him.

She shifted to the side, pressing the other breast against his mouth. He gave that one the same

treatment, licking, sucking, devouring.

“I think that’s enough,” she said, pulling back abruptly and smiling glassy-eyed at him. “Thank you

for that.”

“You’re welcome. Are you taking these off now?” He rattled the cuffs.

“Not a chance, honey. I’m just getting started.”

She slid off him again letting her hair graze his belly as she moved down to his belt buckle. She

flicked it open like she’d done it a million times before, and Mac realized it was the third time she’d

performed the task in twenty-four hours. How had he gotten this lucky?

“Your pants seem a little tight,” Kelli murmured, her fingers deftly working the zipper. “Let me see

what I can do about relieving some of the pressure.”

“God, yes.”

She slid her hands into his pants and shoved them down with Mac lifting his hips to help. He

expected her to tug them all the way down, but she stopped mid-thigh, pinning his legs together. Mac

fought the panic that surged at the thought of being imprisoned and at her mercy.

God, why was this so electrifying?

“So,” she said, leaning down so he could feel her breath on his upper thighs and her hair tickling

the end of his cock. “Was there something you wanted?”

Mac made an unintelligible sound in the back of his throat as Kelli moved up, her lips brushing him

so softly he might’ve imagined it. He felt her tongue flick lightly over the tip of him before she moved

away again, her hair tangling around him as she planted a trail of kisses down one thigh and back up

the other.

Her breath was hot on his bare skin, his body aching to have her. When the tip of her tongue grazed

him again, Mac groaned in frustration.

“Please.”

He barely recognized his own strangled cry as Kelli drew back, taking that hot, sweet mouth with

her. She smiled. “I’m sorry, was there something you wanted?”

Mac cursed, half frustration, half pleasure, as she lowered herself over him again. This time, she

licked one, long stroke from root to tip, her tongue soft and warm and the best thing he’d ever felt in

his life. Then she drew back, letting her hair tickle him again as she planted featherlight kisses across

his abdomen, over his hip bones, across his belly.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he hissed.

“That’s kinda the idea.”

“Just let me touch you.”

“No way. I’m here to teach you that you don’t always need to be in control, Mac. Pay attention,

there’s an exam later.”

Mac groaned again as Kelli worked her way back down, moving her mouth over him again with

careful precision, just barely avoiding any contact between her tongue or the roof of her mouth. She

brushed him once with her lips on the way down, engulfing him completely, but still barely touching

him with anything but her breath.

He’d never felt such exquisite torture in his life.

She drew back again, meeting his eyes once more as the tip of her finger grazed him.

“What do you want, Mac?”

“I want you.”

She smiled. “Say it. Tell me what you want me to do.”

Mac swallowed, torn between uttering such a crass command to a sweet woman and getting what

he wanted. What he needed.

“Suck me,” he breathed. “Please.”

And she did. Her lips closed around him, tight and warm as her tongue curved around his shaft. She

moved slowly at first, the suction of her mouth pulling him toward the back of her throat. She gripped

the base of his cock with one hand, using it to angle him against the roof of her mouth. She turned her

head to one side, and her hair fell away from her face. Her eyes met his, and he could see her smile

even though her lips were otherwise engaged.

She moved down his shaft, sucking and licking and alternating the pressure of her mouth with the

firm stroke of her hands. He felt his brain leaving his body, felt his whole body losing control—

“Kelli, I’m going to—”

“Not yet, you aren’t.” She rose up on her heels and smiled, then leaned over him. He stretched to

reach her nipple with his tongue again, but she moved away quickly as she reached for nightstand. She

sat back, condom in hand, and brushed a curl from her eyes. “I want you inside me again.”

She didn’t wait for a response—not that he would have put up a fight. She rolled the condom on,

then threw one leg over him. She straddled him like that for a moment, hovering above him with her

fingers clenched around his shaft, the tip of him poised between her legs, her eyes locked on his.

He was inches from being inside her, but it might as well have been miles for all the control he had.

Kelli held all the cards.

Well, the cards and his cock.

He clenched his teeth, wondering if she planned to toy with him. If she wanted to see him beg. He

was deciding if he had it in him to resist when she plunged down onto him, taking his breath away.

“Jesus Christ,” he gasped as she sheathed him to the root.

She laughed and circled her hips slowly, letting her body adjust to his. She was tight and wet and

hot around him, and Mac groaned as she clenched her thighs over his hips. She rose up on her knees,

then slid back down again, her muscles gripping him in a velvety caress. She arched up and closed

her eyes, threading her fingers in her hair as she lost herself to the rhythm of her own movement.

He tugged at the handcuffs, wishing he could slide his hands over those beautiful breasts or grip her

by the hips and pound himself into her.

But this was her rhythm, her show.

A pretty spectacular one at that.

He watched her ride him, felt his own pleasure mounting, heard the buzzing in his brain that

signaled he wouldn’t be able to take this much longer. Her beautiful face was flushed with pleasure,

her movements quickening as her breath came faster.

Mac thrust his hips up hard, pushing himself deeper into her. Kelli’s eyes flew wide, and she

gasped. He drew back and thrust again, hitting the same spot harder this time.

“Oh my—Jesus, Mac, what did you just—holy fuck!”

He drove into her harder, his aim perfected now as he felt her tighten around him. Her body tensed

and she threw her hands forward, raking her nails down his chest. He was back in control, or was he?

He didn’t know anymore. He groaned and thrust deeper, concentrating on hitting the same spot as his

own pleasure mounted and something exploded behind his eyes.

“Christ!” he said through gritted teeth as Kelli bucked and cried out, the spasms of her orgasm

propelling him through his own. Wave after wave of sensation washed over him, and he closed his

eyes and gave in to it.

She collapsed on his chest, her breath warm against his neck. He felt her swallow as she tried to

rise up, but she seemed boneless on top of him. He smiled.

“Who won that round?” he murmured.

“Let’s call it a tie.”

“Speaking of ties, how about you unlock me?” He rattled the cuffs.

“In a minute. I can’t feel my arms. Or my legs.”

He grinned. “As long as you have feeling elsewhere, my work here is done.”

She sat up then, smiling, and shook her head. “Seriously, Mac—that was fucking incredible.

Anyone tell you your aim is impeccable?”

He started to respond, but she clamped a hand over his mouth and laughed. “Never mind. Of course

they have. You seriously must have a G-spot magnet in that thing.”

She rolled off him then and reached into the nightstand again. Extracting a key from the top drawer,

she gave a sigh of pleasure before turning back to him and unlocking the cuffs. She kissed him then

with surprising softness, and Mac breathed in the scent of her hair across his face.

“There you go,” she murmured. “You’re free.”

She lay back down beside him, snuggling against him so her head rested on his chest and her curls

spilled over his shoulder. He moved his arm around her, pulling her closer to absorb all her warmth

and softness.

He lay there for a moment thinking of something to say. Pillow talk wasn’t his forte, especially with

a fake fiancée he’d vowed not to get attached to.

He was still trying to come up with some witty repartee when he felt her body slowly go slack in

his arms. He looked down at her, amazed to discover she’d fallen asleep. Careful not to disturb her,

he reached down and pulled the covers up over them. He looked at her again, so sweet and peaceful

in her slumber. He ran his hand over her hair, in awe of the softness of those fragrant curls.

You’re free.

Her words echoed in his head, and Mac closed his eyes, willing them to be true.

…

In her dream, Kelli was running topless on a beach.

It wasn’t a terribly X-rated scene, since she was five years old.

“Slow down there, Kelli-belly,” her mom called from her perch on a gnarled piece of driftwood.

Kelli turned to see her mother take a slow drag on her cigarette, the corners of her mouth turning

up in a sad little smile as she blew the smoke into the wind.

Kelli turned back and ran toward her mom with bits of blowing sand stinging her cheeks. The

sea air was salty and damp and clung to her skin like a spiderweb. “Where’s Daddy?” she panted,

plopping down in the sand at her mother’s feet. “He said he’d come to the beach with us today,

didn’t he?”

Her mom said nothing at first as she took another drag on her cigarette. She looked off in the

distance, and Kelli followed her gaze, hoping to catch a glimpse of her father.

There was no one there.

“Can’t count on a man for anything,” Kelli’s mom said. Her voice was so low, she sounded like

another person.

Startled, Kelli looked up at her. “Mama?”

Her mother just shook her head, her eyes still fixed on the horizon. “You best learn that early.

Men can be amusing, and they’re handy as hell for opening jars and fixing cars and giving you a

good fu—uh, fun time. But take it from me, baby girl. Don’t get attached.”

Kelli frowned up at her mom, not sure she understood. Her daddy was the best man she knew,

full of cuddles and scratchy kisses and pockets full of peppermint candies. He was always around,

or at least most of the time. Maybe not after Mama got mad and yelled at him to get out, but he

always came back, didn’t he?

“No! Goddamn it, stop! Jillian!”

In her dream, Kelli frowned. Jillian?

“Jillian! No!”

The fog of sleep fell away, and Kelli opened her eyes and blinked in the darkness. The beach was

gone, and so were her childhood pigtails and the smell of salty air. She was lying in bed beside a

shirtless man with dark hair, killer abs, and a sleep-slack face creased in fury.

Mac’s fist balled in the sheet beside her head. “Jillian—don’t leave! Not with him, please!”

Kelli touched his arm, unsure what to do. She’d never slept with a man who had nightmares before.

Hell, she seldom slept with a man, period, at least not the sort of sleeping that involved

unconsciousness.

“Mac?” She propped herself up on her elbow and slid her hand to his chest. She touched him

lightly, careful not to make any sudden moves. “Mac, you’re having a bad dream.”

His eyes snapped open, and he blinked at her with a steely look. Kelli jerked her hand back,

shivering as she pulled the covers tighter around her breasts.

“You were having a dream,” she whispered. “About someone named Jillian?”

“Jillian,” he repeated, his voice cracking a little. He blinked again, as the light moved back into his

eyes. “A dream.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “I mean, I understand.”

His brows creased. “You do?”

She wasn’t entirely sure she did, but she nodded anyway. “Sure. You’ve had plenty of women in

your life and I’ve had plenty of men in my life. We’re bound to dream about others from time to time.”

“Right.” Mac sat up, his gaze still hard and unreadable. He looked at her a moment, then turned

away. “I should get going.”

“Going?” Kelli glanced at the bedside clock. “It’s four a.m. It’s still dark.”

“I’ve got a lot of work to do,” he said, sliding out of bed. She shivered as his warmth went with

him.

He fumbled in the darkness for his shirt, not meeting her eyes as he tugged on his pants. “I’ll be

down in the office for a little while, but I’ll be out in the field for most of the day. I trust you have

plenty to keep you busy.”

His tone was all business, and Kelli tried not to let it sting. “Of course. We’re starting the first

round of spaying and neutering today, but Mac—”

“Talk to my mother if you need an extra set of hands,” he said. “She doesn’t have veterinary

experience, but she had some field-nurse training years ago. She’d be happy to volunteer. Hank will

drive you both and keep an eye on things.”

He finished buttoning his shirt and turned to look at her. His gaze flicked to the handcuffs still lying

on the dresser, then to the rumpled sheets. When his eyes met hers again, they’d softened just a little.

“Thank you, Kelli.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, unsure what to say. The temperature in the room

had dropped at least ten degrees. She drew her knees up under her, holding the sheet tight around her

breasts. It wasn’t like this was the first time a man had left suddenly after sex. Hell, usually she was

the one running.

Running away so they don’t leave you first.

Kelli swallowed and forced a smile. “Have a good day,” she said at last, infusing her voice with a

chipper note that fell flat.

He nodded once, seeming to hesitate. Then he turned and walked out of the room, closing the door

behind him. She stared at it a moment, then lay back down on the bed and blinked at the ceiling. She

slid her hand over to the warm spot where his body had been.

What the hell was that all about?

Chapter Eleven

Kelli couldn’t fall back asleep, and by six, she couldn’t stand it any longer. She picked up her phone

and dialed.

The call had barely connected when her words rushed out in a jumble. “Sheri? I’m so sorry, I know

it’s still the middle of the night in Hawaii, but I had to call you and ask about—”

“Kelli? Is that you? Hang on a sec, I think we have a bad connection.”

Kelli bit her lip and waited, feeling stupid. She shouldn’t have called. It was no big deal, really, if

Mac was dreaming about some old girlfriend who’d left him. Jesus, she knew he wasn’t a monk, and

what business was it of hers if he wanted to dream about orgies with a dozen women from his past?

She should just apologize and hang up, tell Sheri the whole thing was an accident and—

“There, that’s better,” Sheri said. “Sorry, my reception isn’t so hot on the other end of the house.

The boys have a cold, so I was up anyway suctioning snot and messing with the humidifier. What’s

going on, Kel? Is everything okay?”

“Who’s Jillian?” she blurted. “Shit, I mean sorry about the boys being sick and the snot and

everything, but—”

“Jillian?”

“Yes, Jillian. Someone Mac used to date, maybe?”

“That doesn’t ring a bell. I haven’t known many of my brother’s girlfriends, though. Why? Did he

do something stupid?”

“No, not stupid.” Kelli sank back on the bed, resting her forearm over her eyes to block out the

morning light and the stupid glare of her own insecurities. “Just weird. Or maybe I’m the one being

weird.”

“Not the first time. So what’s the problem?”

“He said her name in his sleep,” Kelli said. “Or shouted it, really.”

“Wait, what?” Sheri hooted with laughter. “We’ll come back to the girlfriend thing in a minute—

you’re sleeping with my brother?”

“Oh, please. Did you really think I’d hold out more than forty-eight hours?”

“Of course not. You’d have shagged him in the jetway at the airport if you had the chance, but I

thought Mac might hold out longer than that.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know—some stupid hang-up about his kid sister’s best friend, or maybe because he’d feel

too wrapped up in protecting you to want to compromise things by having sex with you. Either way, I

obviously underestimated your powers of seduction.”

“You’re forgiven,” Kelli said. “So about Jillian?”

“I’m stumped. Are you sure that’s what he said?”

“Positive.” Hell, he’d said it three times. That had to mean something, right?

“Why do you think it’s a girlfriend?” Sheri asked. “Was he talking dirty in his sleep or spanking the

monkey or something? Oh God, don’t answer that—yuck, my brother.”

“There was no monkey spanking involved. Well, not then anyway. I guess I just thought—Shit,

never mind. It was stupid. I guess I just wondered what sort of woman could get under the skin of Mr.

Tall, Dark, and Detached-from-Humankind.”

“Jillian,” Sheri repeated as though trying to place the name. “The only Jillian I can think of is my

Aunt Sarah’s daughter who died way before I was even born. Obviously, I never knew her.”

“A cousin?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I can’t imagine Mac would even remember her. He would have been five or six

when she died, and our family really never talked about her.”

“Can’t be the same Jillian then,” Kelli said. “Can you think of anyone else?”

“He dated a Jenna in college. Wait, no, maybe it was Jeanine. Whatever, it wasn’t serious. None of

Mac’s relationships ever were.”

“Exactly why I wanted to play hide-the-salami with him,” Kelli said, projecting a cheerful

indifference she wasn’t sure she really felt.

“You sure you’re okay, Kel?”

“Of course!” Her words sounded falsely bright, even to her own ears, and she knew Sheri heard it,

too. She cleared her throat and tried again. “I’m fabulous, obviously. I got to nail your brother, which

allows me to cross one major item off my bucket list. I just need to go hang gliding and learn to juggle

now.”

“Okay, then.” Sheri paused, and Kelli knew her friend was waiting for her to offer more. To fill in

the blanks with something juicy or jokey.

Kelli stayed quiet.

“Right, so good luck with that,” Sheri said. “The hang gliding that is. You’ll call if you need

anything?”

“Absolutely. Oh, I almost forgot—your mother’s here.”

“What? Seriously?”

“She found out about the engagement somehow. I think Mac’s freaking out about it a little. He’d

hoped to keep the whole thing quiet and isolated in Mexico. I’m not sure what he’s going to do now.”

“Christ, are you okay?”

“I feel lousy lying to your mom. She always had a knack for knowing when I wasn’t telling the truth.

For now, she believes the whole story, so Mac’s cover isn’t blown or anything, although speaking of

blowing Mac—”

“If she bought the story, you’re the one who should be worried. You know Stella Patton is perfectly

capable of marching you to the altar at gunpoint, don’t you?”

Kelli winced and threaded her fingers through her hair, feeling a chunk of crusted sugar. God, was

it only last night she’d been in an arms dealer’s bathtub with Mac and a giant lizard?

And on the arms dealer’s bathroom counter, legs wrapped around Mac’s hips—

“I’m hoping your mom will understand when it’s all over and we explain it was a matter of national

security,” Kelli said.

“Don’t count on it. My mom would love to have you as a daughter-in-law. Don’t be surprised if she

brings new meaning to the idea of a shotgun wedding.”

“The odds of a wedding actually happening are the same as the chances I’ll join a convent.”

“You’ll be the hottest nun on the block. Look, I’ve gotta run, Kel. The boys are starting to fuss

again, and I don’t want them to wake Sam since he was up with them last night. You’ll call if you

need anything?”

“Will do. Hugs to the babies and that big hunk of man-flesh.”

“Bye, hon.”

Kelli hung up the phone, feeling more uncertain than she had before she’d dialed Sheri’s number.

Who the hell was Jillian?

More importantly, why did she care? The engagement was fake, and the sex was meaningless. She

might have some temporary claim to Mac’s body at the moment, but certainly not his heart or mind or

dreams. What the hell was her problem?

She climbed out of bed and went to take a shower, a little reluctant to scrub away the remnants of

last night’s sex. She had to hand it to Mac, the man knew his way around a woman’s body. Even with

his hands shackled, he’d made her come harder than any man ever had before. That was saying

something.

She toweled off and dressed in set of pink surgical scrubs, forcing herself to turn her attention to the

day’s agenda. Volunteers had been busy using live traps to collect feral cats from around the area.

Today was going to be a big day of snipping and suturing, hopefully making a good-sized dent in the

number of homeless cats breeding and starving and wreaking havoc on the area’s bird populations.

Trudging down the stairs to the dining area, she froze mid-step as Mac’s mother looked up from her

morning paper and smiled. Stella was impeccably dressed in loose linen trousers and a matching top.

Her eyes bored into Kelli the way they had when Sheri and Kelli got busted sneaking out in middle

school.

She nodded at Kelli. “I trust you slept well, dear?”

Kelli felt the heat creep into her cheeks. How thin were the walls in Mac’s house, anyway?

“I—”

“Oh, please,” Stella said, shoving her newspaper aside before Kelli could stammer a response.

“You can cut the blushing bride act with me. You forget I’m the one who picked you up on prom night

after your date passed out from exhaustion in the backseat of his car.”

“He’d been drinking tequila,” Kelli replied, descending the stairs the rest of the way and seating

herself primly on the other side of the table. “And that feather duster you found was only for cleaning

the—”

“Sweetie, I don’t care. It’s none of my business now, is it? As long as MacArthur is happy and

you’re part of the reason for it, I’m not one to judge. What the two of you do behind closed doors is

between you. So tell me about this spay-and-neuter clinic you’re doing?”

Kelli blinked, not sure if she was more surprised by the subject change or by Stella’s sudden live-

and-let-live attitude. Wasn’t this the same woman who’d threatened to tell her foster mom when she’d

caught her playing spin-the-bottle at an eighth grade party?

“The clinic,” Kelli said, clearing her throat. “Right. Well, if you’re free, we could use an extra set

of hands labeling the cages and helping keep things organized. It’s important that the cats are all

returned to their original colonies, so there’s a system in place to make sure we follow protocol.”

“I’d love to help,” Stella said, standing up and folding her paper. “When can we leave?”

“I called Hank to bring the car around. He’s driving me—Mac’s orders, of course. He’s a little

controlling about these things.”

“He’s worse the more he loves you.”

“He must love me a lot, then,” Kelli replied, feeling an odd twist in her gut as she said the words.

She turned and picked up her medical bag off the hall table, nodding to Stella. “I think there are extra

scrubs at the clinic that’ll fit you, if you like.”

“I’m always happy to be useful, honey,” Stella said, marching to the door like a woman on a

mission. “When I heard Mac was getting married, I figured I’d fly down here and help pick out

flowers and color schemes. Now that I know he’s marrying you, it’s a lot more fitting to spend our

time lopping the nut-sacs off tomcats.”

Kelli nodded and picked up her medical bag, pushing back waves of guilt and uncertainty as she

made her way to the door.

…

The morning was a long one, filled with an endless stream of mangy cats who were less than thrilled

by the prospect of parting with their fuzz nuggets and lady biscuits. Kelli lost count of how many

surgeries she performed, her morning and afternoon blending together in a haze of surgical clamps

and feline fur.

By the time the clinic was wrapping up, the sun was already starting to sink low. Kelli did the

same, sliding her back down the side of the concrete building to sit down on the curb outside the

clinic.

“Here you go, dear.”

Kelli looked up to see Stella offering her an icy cola can. She nearly wept with relief as she

reached up to take the soda. “Thanks. This is the first time I’ve sat down all day.”

“I’m sure I could find you a chair. Either that, or one of the bodyguards over there could get down

on all fours and let you use him as a seat.

“That’s okay,” Kelli said, popping the top on her soda and taking a long drink. “The pavement’s

nice and warm. Besides, Hank’s bringing the car around in just a minute. I want to watch for him.”

“Very well.” Stella seemed to hesitate, than sat down beside her on the curb. She looked a lot more

dignified doing it than Kelli felt.

Kelli took another sip of soda and thought about her day. No matter how she tried to focus on the

work she’d done, her brain kept drifting back to Mac. She pictured his hands anchored above his head

as he angled his hips up and—

No. Stop thinking about that with his mother sitting beside you.

She glanced at Stella, hoping the older woman couldn’t read her thoughts.

Stella nodded. “You and MacArthur certainly seem compatible.”

Kelli choked on her soda, the warmth in her cheeks only partly a result of her lack of oxygen. Stella

whacked her on the back and looked out at the street.

“Please, darling. Don’t pretend you weren’t having salacious thoughts about my son. It’s written all

over your face every time you drift off like that. I have to say, I never really recognized the depth of

your infatuation with him.”

“Neither did I,” Kelli said. She took another sip of soda, not sure if that was the truth or another

embellishment for the sake of their cover story. Either way, she felt guilty. Stella had been like

another mother to her and it felt wrong not to tell her the whole truth.

They sat in silence for a moment, and Kelli’s thoughts wandered back to that morning. To Mac’s

sudden flight from the bedroom after his nightmare. What on earth had that been about?

She looked at Stella and cleared her throat. “Sheri and Mac’s Aunt Sarah—she’s your sister,

right?”

The question was clearly out of the blue, and Stella turned to look at her with a curious expression.

“Sarah? Yes, of course—she’s younger than me by three years. Why on earth do you ask?”

“We’ve—uh—been working on the guest list for the wedding.” Kelli felt another pang of guilt, but

pressed on, too late to turn back now. “I was trying to remember if I’d ever met any of your siblings

or Mac and Sheri’s cousins.”

“It’s possible,” she said. “Sarah’s son Carl is just a few days older than Grant, so we sometimes

celebrated their birthdays together when you kids were younger. You used to come over sometimes

for that, right?”

Kelli nodded, remembering how she used to think of Sheri’s younger sibling as her own brother.

She’d certainly never felt any of that brotherly affection for Mac, but then he’d always been older and

more detached, wanting nothing to do with his younger sister or her friends.

“Yes, Sarah’s had a rough go of it,” Stella said.

“Oh?” Kelli tried to sound casual, but obviously this was the reason she’d broached the subject.

“Sarah had a daughter who passed away, right?”

Stella’s brows knitted together. “That’s right. Mac must’ve told you? It happened before Sheri was

even born, but I’m surprised MacArthur would speak of it. He never wanted to discuss the subject.”

Kelli tightened her grip on the soda can and tried to look casual. “He was five or six when Jillian

died?”

“That’s right.” Stella studied her a moment, assessing. Kelli kept her expression neutral, but her

heart was slamming hard against her chest. Stella looked away, her gaze drifting over the horizon.

“Mac just adored Jilly. She was two years older, and he used to follow her around like a puppy dog.

They were such sweet little playmates.”

Kelli nodded, trying to piece the story together. She considered playing along like she knew all the

details, but it seemed pointless to pretend.

Keep the story as close to the truth as possible. Isn’t that what she and Mac had agreed at the start

of this mission?

“Do you mind if I ask how she died?” Kelli asked. “Jillian, I mean. Mac mentioned her, of course,

but like you said—he doesn’t like to talk about it much. I never wanted to pry for the whole story.”

Stella turned and looked at her. Her steely-brown eyes were so much like Mac’s, it took Kelli’s

breath away. She’d never seen eyes that could change so quickly from warm to icy. Right now,

Stella’s were somewhere in between, studying Kelli with careful consideration.

“It happened when she and Mac were playing together,” Stella began slowly. “They were out in the

front yard while the grownups were all inside getting ready for a barbecue. Mac told us later that a

man with a black baseball cap and a bushy mustache pulled up in a blue car and asked Jillian to help

find his lost puppy.”

Kelli swallowed, feeling sick over where the story was headed. She dug her fingers into the edge

of the curb and looked at Stella. “She went?”

Stella nodded, her eyes still trained on the horizon, but Kelli saw tears pooling at the edges. “She

went,” Stella said softly. “Police found her body two weeks later in a forested area about five miles

from the house. I always wondered—”

She broke off there, her voice catching. Kelli reached out to touch the older woman’s hand. She

hesitated, then closed her fingers around Stella’s. “You always wondered what?”

“If MacArthur blamed himself. I told him it wasn’t his fault, of course. He was five years old, and

there’s nothing he could have done. But he never wanted to talk about it. Not as a child, and not later

as an adult.” She cleared her throat and shook her head slowly. “I do think what happened to Jillian

did a lot to make him the man he is now. Fiercely protective of the people he loves. Hell-bent on

controlling everything around him so nothing bad can ever happen to anyone he cares about.

Childhood trauma has a way of shaping the adult you become.”

Kelli blinked, surprised to realize her own eyes were filling with tears. “Yes,” she whispered. “I

know exactly what you mean.”

Stella turned, her eyes piercing straight into Kelli’s soul. “I know you do, dear. I’ve known you

since you were a ratty-haired little ragamuffin trying to hold your world together while your mama

went crazy and your daddy went AWOL and everything fell apart around you. Why do you think I kept

such close tabs on you as a girl?”

Kelli swallowed back tears, not sure her voice would work. “Because I was your daughter’s best

friend?”

“That was part of it. But you were also a child whose views on love and loss and what it means to

be a grownup were shaped by some pretty terrible things. And if my own son wouldn’t let me mother

him through something like that, at least I could mother you.”

Kelli didn’t even try to hold back the tears anymore. They were slipping down her cheeks in

earnest now, big, sloppy, wet droplets that plopped onto her pink scrubs and left her sniffling like a

sad little girl. She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes, a futile effort that just left her with a

smear of sticky cola on her cheek. Stella squeezed her other hand, then stood up, pulling Kelli with

her. She wrapped her in a fierce hug, holding her like that for a few heartbeats before she let go and

looked her in the eye.

“I’m glad you finally decided to let someone in,” Stella murmured. “Someone besides Sheri and

me. MacArthur is a good man. He won’t leave you the way your parents did. You know that, don’t

you?”

Kelli nodded, tears still flowing, too overwhelmed to say anything at all.

“Come on,” Stella said, nodding to the street where the black Town Car sat idling with Hank

standing at ease by the passenger door, his back discretely to them. When had he arrived? Kelli had

failed to notice.

Stella squeezed her hand again. “Let’s go home and eat ice cream and watch M*A*S*H reruns on

Netflix.”

Kelli nodded and let Stella tow her toward the car, the little girl inside her wishing stupidly to be a

part of this family forever.

Chapter Twelve

After a long morning of tense phone calls and delicate negotiations for an arms deal in Saudi Arabia,

Mac wanted nothing more than to come home to a quiet house, a late lunch, a smoky scotch, and a

good blowjob.

He frowned, slamming the car door shut as he strode up the walkway. Since when had the blowjob

factored into his plans for a solitary evening at home?

Since your fake fiancée turned out to be more than a simple business associate.

Goddammit, he couldn’t lose focus here. He had a deal to close and a girl to protect. It wouldn’t do

to let sex addle his brain.

Mac adjusted his sunglasses and pushed his way through the front door, ready to make a beeline for

his favorite chair on the veranda. He was pretty sure he’d stashed that new bottle of Laphroaig in the

liquor cabinet, and maybe Maria had left a bowl of those chili-roasted almonds with—

“Hey, bro! Long time, no see!”

Mac stopped in his tracks as his younger brother, Grant, marched through the foyer, beaming like a

kid with a new bike. A really big kid with an even bigger new bike, probably a goddamn Harley.

Grant’s military buzz cut looked shorter than normal, and though he wasn’t in uniform, everything

about him screamed soldier. Grant grabbed him in a bear hug and Mac hugged back stiffly, surprised

how thrilled he was to see his stupid kid brother. He clapped Grant on the back and tried to

remember the last time they’d been in the same room together. Much too long.

Mac squeezed him harder. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Good to see you, too, asshole.” Grant pulled back and grinned at him.

Mac grinned back. “Fuck off.”

“Nothing like the sound of brotherly love between my sons.” They turned as their mom walked into

the room, gesturing toward the soap dispenser at the kitchen sink. “Don’t think for a moment you’re

too big for me to turn you over my knee or wash your mouths out with soap.”

Grant reached out and grabbed their mom, pulling her into a one-armed hug as he jerked Mac close

with the other arm. It was more physical affection than Mac generally cared for, but he had to admit

there was something pleasant about the awkward three-way huddle.

Mac’s mind veered a little at the word three-way, and he thought about Kelli and the handcuffs and

everything else he’d like to do with her before this silly fake engagement was over.

He pulled back from the hug, not sure he should be thinking about sex with his mom and baby

brother so close. “Seriously, Grant—what are you doing here?”

“I had a week of leave, so a couple buddies and I planned a surf trip to Cabo. When mom called to

say you were getting married, I figured I was close enough to come see this for myself.

Congratulations, bro.”

“Uh—thanks. Thank you.”

“What the hell, man? Were you planning to tell me?”

Grant gave him a wink, his back turned discretely to their mother.

He’s talked to Sheri. He knows this isn’t real, but he’s playing along.

Mac felt unfathomably relieved, grateful both for the extra layer to his cover and for the extra set of

eyes to watch over Kelli. He knew he could count on his brother for both discretion and protection.

“Sorry about that,” Mac said. “We—uh—fell for each other, and we wanted to surprise everyone.

Speaking of which, where’s my beautiful bride?”

“She’s out on the veranda on her laptop,” his mom said. “I asked her where the two of you had

registered, and she told me you hadn’t taken care of that. We have a lot of family that will be asking

me those questions, MacArthur.”

He frowned. “What questions?”

“About gifts, of course.” She grabbed his arm. “Come on, you need to be part of this, too.”

“I do?”

His mother shook her head in exasperation and began towing him toward the back of the house.

Mac followed, shooting a longing glance at the liquor cabinet and his favorite chair on the other side

of the patio. Resistance was futile with his mother, so there was no point in putting this off.

Grant fell into step behind them, laughing his ass off.

His mom dragged him outside, where Kelli was parked at a patio table staring blankly at a laptop

screen. A sunny curl had fallen over one cheek, and she wore a pink-and-white striped dress with

little ties on the shoulders. He thought about grabbing one of those ties and tugging, baring her

shoulders and breasts for him to devour.

Maybe not with his mom and brother watching.

Kelli looked up as he approached and gave him a pleading look.

Help, she mouthed and Mac felt a twinge in his groin at the memory of where that mouth had been.

Stella smiled and rested her hand on Kelli’s shoulder. “Are you finding what you need on the

Williams-Sonoma site, dear?”

“I don’t really know where to start,” Kelli replied, giving Stella a bewildered look. “I’m not really

much of a cook.”

“Well how about the two of you sit down together and make some selections?”

Not waiting for a response, she pushed Mac into a chair beside his befuddled looking bride. Kelli

leaned up and kissed him, a chaste peck that still managed to send all the blood rushing from his brain

to his groin.

“Okay then,” Kelli said, turning back to the laptop. She scrolled the mouse down the page, her eyes

widening as she clicked something silver and oblong.

“Wow, they have vibrators on this site? I thought it was just kitchen crap. Check it out, it has a

stainless-steel drive shaft, fifteen speeds, a control grip, and a special setting for whipping and

emulsifying.” She looked at Mac, a salacious grin on her sweet face. “I’m not sure what emulsifying

is, but I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.”

“I’m game.”

Behind him, Grant snorted. Their mother made a tsking sound and leaned down to peer at the

screen. “Emulsifying is the blending of two immiscible liquids.”

Mac shrugged and looked at Kelli. “I’m down with that.”

“You two are hopeless,” his mom said, smacking him on the back of the head. “I’m talking about

things like oil for salad dressing—you’re looking at an immersion blender, dear.”

Grant burst out laughing, while Kelli shrugged and clicked off the page, her cheeks pinkening only a

little as Stella watched the screen over her shoulder. Mac reached for the mouse, grazing her hand as

he took control of browsing.

“What is this thing with the probes and the timer?” he asked, clicking a photo. “It looks like a

bomb-making device. That could be handy.”

“It’s a meat thermometer,” Kelli said, her eyes scanning the words on the page. She laughed and

looked up at him with another salacious smile. “It does say it has a sturdy meat probe.”

Grant was practically rolling on the ground, and Kelli reached under the table to give Mac a

discrete squeeze through his pants, mouthing the words meat probe as his mom wiped tears of

laughter from her eyes and made a halfhearted effort to appear composed and unamused.

“How about we look at knives,” Mac suggested, clicking the mouse again. “This Shun Kaji

Hollow-Ground Santoku knife looks impressive. Check this out, the blade is constructed with a core

of SG-2 powdered steel clad in a true Damascus layer of forged nickel and stainless steel.”

“Wow,” Grant said, stepping in behind them. “Is that a ten-inch blade on that bad boy? You could

do some serious damage with that.”

“How about a pot rack?” Kelli offered, wrestling the mouse away from him. She clicked a few

links before she found what she wanted. “This one has a hammered-steel grid and frame with eighteen

straight hoots and two extension hooks. It looks like a very nice rack.”

“It does look like a very nice rack,” Mac agreed, staring down the front of her dress.

His mother smacked him on the back of the head again, and Mac tore his eyes off Kelli’s rack to

look back at the monitor. The screen displayed some sort of bizarre knife with a long, curved blade

and a thick wooden handle.

“I’m not sure what a Double Mezzaluna is,” he said, “but judging from the blade on that thing, I

wouldn’t want to meet someone carrying it in a dark alley.”

“No worries, you’d just whip out that stainless-steel bagel cutter and lop the guy’s nuts off,” Grant

offered, pointing at another pane on the monitor. “Or how about that egg slicer down there at the

bottom? That thing would make a great weapon if you put the right body part in there.”

Kelli stood up and flipped the laptop shut, clapping her hands together as she smiled at Stella.

“How about we call it a day on the wedding registry, shall we?”

Mac nodded and got to his feet. “Considering all we’ve done is look at sex toys, bomb-making

supplies, and weapons, I think our work here is done.”

Stella shook her head and swatted at him again. Mac could tell she was trying to look disdainful,

but she wasn’t even close. Her fondness for all three of them was apparent in the way she looked

from him to Kelli to Grant and back to him again.

“You two are perfect for one another, you know that?” she said. “Horrible, but absolutely perfect

for each other. Speaking of which, have you given any thought to engagement photos?

“Engagement photos?” Mac frowned. “I think we’d rather keep this more low-key.”

His mother put an arm around Kelli and gave a motherly smile. “Don’t be silly. Engagement photos

don’t have to be anything fancy. Just something simple to include with your announcements.”

Kelli shrugged and looked at him with those big turquoise eyes. “I can ask our wedding planner

about photographers. I guess we ought to do that soon, huh?”

There was a tinge of guilt in her expression, and Mac felt his gut twist. Choosing a fake fiancée

with close ties to his family had seemed like a smart idea when the whole thing was confined to a few

secretive weeks in a foreign country. But having his mom here made things tricky. He knew Kelli

hated lying to his her, and he wasn’t wild about having another loved one in the middle of a

dangerous situation.

How the fuck had this gotten so complicated?

“I have an idea,” his mom said, jarring him from his grim thoughts. “Grant, you’ve always had a

talent for photography. Didn’t you just say you got a fancy new camera?”

Grant shrugged and looked at Mac. “Sure. Matter of fact, the light’s going to be just about perfect in

a few minutes. Want to get this over with?”

Mac resisted the urge to grimace. “What did you have in mind?”

“Head down to the beach, get a few shots of you two playing grab-ass and making googly eyes at

each other.” He grinned. “It’ll be romantic.”

“Only in Mac’s world does grab-ass count as romantic,” Kelli said, patting his butt. “I’m up for it.”

Mac dropped his eyes to her ass, all thoughts of his mom and Grant and Zapata vanishing as he

contemplated whether his faux bride was wearing panties.

He nodded once and slid his gaze back to hers. “I’m in.”

…

Kelli didn’t bother changing clothes for the photo shoot, though she did hustle back to the bedroom to

put on panties.

“Such a shame,” Mac murmured, reaching for her as she struggled to pull her underthings up over

her hips.

“Stop it!” she whispered, smacking his hand away as she tugged her dress down and turned to slick

on some pink lip gloss. She knew this wasn’t a real engagement photo shoot, but she still wanted to

look nice. “Hurry up and change your shirt before your mother comes in here and does it for you.”

Mac reached for her again, but Kelli skittered out of the way, laughing as she hooked the pearl-drop

earrings through her lobes. A small pang of wistfulness hit her as she remembered the paw-print

necklace. Would she ever see her little family heirloom again?

“Come on, you guys!” Grant yelled from the hall. “We’re losing our light. There’s no time for a

quickie.”

Kelli winked at Mac and stepped out of his reach. His reach turned out to be greater than she

expected, and he caught her hand, pulling her to him.

“You heard your brother,” she whispered, arching against him. “No quickies.”

“I want more than a quickie, but that’s not why I grabbed you,” he whispered, planting a kiss below

her ear and making her shiver. “My brother knows the engagement isn’t real. Sheri must’ve filled him

in, but he’ll protect our cover. Just wanted you to know.”

“Good,” she said, not sure why she felt a small wave of disappointment. She stepped away again

and straightened her dress. “One less person to lie to is a plus. I feel bad enough betraying your

mom.”

“She’ll understand,” he said, buttoning a fresh black shirt and moving toward the door. “She knows

my work requires drastic measures sometimes.”

“Maybe not this drastic,” Kelli murmured as she fell into step behind him.

Grant herded them all out the door and down a little footpath to the beach. He was muttering about

lighting and aperture and lenses while Stella clucked behind them about the groom’s attire.

“All black for an engagement photo, MacArthur?” she chided. “I hope you’re at least planning to

remove the shoulder holster.”

“Yes, Mother.”

Kelli giggled and leaned close to Mac, quickening her pace to keep up with him. “I have to put on

panties and you have to take off your gun,” she whispered. “Maybe we should shake things up a little

and have you wear the panties while I put on the holster.”

Mac snorted. “Remind me to have Grant keep these pictures away from my mother. Otherwise

we’ll end up with a full-page engagement announcement in the New York Times.”

They reached the beach and Kelli kicked off her shoes. The sand felt warm and soft between her

toes, and she found herself missing her home in Hawaii for the first time since she’d arrived. Tossing

her shoes behind a piece of driftwood, she skipped off down the beach. The wind was soft and salty

in her hair, and she spread out her fingers to feel the warm breeze between them as she ran.

She glanced back to see Grant had pulled out his camera and was clicking away.

“Beautiful,” he called.

“Hey now,” Mac grumbled. “Stop checking out my wife.”

“She’s not your wife yet. She still has time to wise up and leave your sorry ass.”

Kelli laughed and stooped down to pick up a seashell. She heard Grant’s shutter click, and she

skipped back toward her intended groom.

“You should turn a cartwheel or something,” Mac called.

“Good idea,” Kelli called back. “I hear crotch shots are all the rage in engagement

announcements.”

Stella shook her head. “Only the two of you could find a way to work the word ‘crotch’ into a

special occasion.”

“Turn this way, Kelli,” Grant called. “Mac, get your ass over there and say something romantic to

your bride.”

Mac sauntered over, looking dark and lethal and so sexy Kelli felt her toes curl in the sand. “Hey,

big boy,” she murmured, looking up at him. “What sort of romance do you have for me?”

Mac slid his hands around her waist and drew her close, lowering his mouth to her ear. “The kind

that involves me pinning your wrists over your head and banging you senseless against the wall.”

Kelli shivered as her stomach did a triple somersault. How the hell did he do that to her? She

looped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss. “Yes, please.”

“Let’s see another kiss!” Grant called. “Mac, get your hand off her ass. We’re aiming for classy

and romantic, not pornography.”

Mac ignored his brother for the moment, giving Kelli’s ass a quick squeeze before settling his

hands in the small of her back. He pulled her closer and Kelli went willingly. He lowered his mouth

to hers, kissing her with a familiarity that left her head reeling.

She drew back and looked up at him, her heart galloping. “You should take off the sunglasses,” she

murmured.

“We’re on the beach.”

“And it’s almost sunset. Come on, Mac. I’m beginning to think the only time I’ll ever get to see your

eyes is when we’re having sex.”

“That’s one way to guarantee it.”

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t bend over that piece of driftwood there and hike my dress up

right now.”

“Rain check?” he murmured, nuzzling her neck.

“Deal. Off with the glasses.”

Mac grinned and removed one hand from her back, reaching up to tug off the shades.

The instant he did it, Kelli felt the earth shift beneath her. Her fingers clenched on his shoulders,

and her breath caught in her throat. She stared into his eyes, the magnetic pull of those brown depths

drawing her into a trance. Waves crashed behind her and the smell of saltwater floated around them.

Grant and Stella faded into the background, and for a moment it was just the two of them.

Something warm and electric surged inside her, and Kelli knew it wasn’t just lust. Mac’s eyes

were locked on hers, unblinking. Was he feeling it, too?

She swallowed, too dizzy to form sentences in her mind, but knowing she had to say something.

“Mac, I—”

“Hand me those sunglasses, MacArthur,” Stella called, stepping forward and breaking the trance.

“You need both hands free to embrace your bride.”

Mac blinked and drew back. Was it Kelli’s imagination, or did he look as shell-shocked as she

felt? He turned and took a few steps toward his mother, reaching out to hand her the glasses. Grant

moved in for a close-up of Kelli.

“Perfect,” he said, shutter clicking. “That’s the look of a woman in love.”

Kelli turned to face him, feeling all the blood drain from her face. A wave of dizziness hit her, and

she reached for something to hold her upright. Her fingers caught Grant’s sleeve, and he reached out

to steady her.

Bang!

Grant grabbed her around the waist and knocked her to the ground. “Ooof!” she said as he threw his

body over her, his burly arms covering her head. “What the—”

“Stay down!” Grant barked, covering her body with his in a way that was more brotherly protector

than sexy lover. “Mac?” Grant yelled.

Kelli turned her head to the side and froze. Mac was on the ground three feet away. She watched as

he reached down and whipped a pistol from a harness around his ankle. He rolled to a crouch and

scanned the beach, gun braced in front of him. He looked cool and lethal and utterly, completely

terrifying.

His eyes slid to her, his expression grave. Kelli swallowed hard.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

“I’m fine,” she choked out, squirming under Grant’s weight. “Stella?”

“Right here, baby,” she called. Kelli spotted her behind a piece of driftwood, a small pistol braced

in her manicured fingers.

Grant moved on top of her and she realized he was gripping a pistol of his own. “This wasn’t what

I had in mind when I suggested an evening shoot,” he said.

Kelli coughed and spit out a mouthful of sand. “Jesus, is everyone here armed?”

“You’re with the Patton family, hon,” Stella called. “It’s best to assume everyone’s armed.”

“Was that a gunshot?”

No one answered at first. Kelli looked back at Mac. He was still in a crouch, still aiming the pistol,

but his shoulders looked less rigid. The sound of a car engine faded into the distance, and Kelli

watched as his eyes swung back to her. They were filled with something she couldn’t quite read, and

a lake of dread pooled in her gut.

Mac swallowed and lowered his gun. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?”

“Yes,” she said, taking a deep breath as Grant eased his weight off her. “What happened?”

“I think it was just a car backfiring,” Grant said. “We all overacted. Par for the course with

Pattons.”

“It certainly sounded like a gunshot,” Stella said. “But I think you’re right. Just a car backfiring.”

Kelli swallowed and looked at Mac. He still looked tense, but Kelli sensed it was more than just

the car weighing on his mind.

“Mac?” she asked.

He turned to face her, his brow creased in a frown. Then he reached down and caught her hand,

lifting her to her feet. “You’re sure you’re fine?”

“Mac, seriously. Stop asking. I’m okay. Your brother weighs a ton, but he didn’t crush my rib cage

or anything.”

He shook his head, and Kelli watched a muscle twitch on the side of his eye. “You could have been

killed.”

“By someone’s faulty fuel pump?”

“Sounded more like a catalytic converter,” Grant said, dusting the sand off his shorts as he got to

his feet. “Coulda been the intake timing.”

Mac scowled. “You know what I mean.” He gritted his teeth and looked down at the gun. “It should

have been me protecting you.”

“From a noisy automobile? There was no need, really. I’m fine, Mac.”

“We’re all fine, buddy,” Grant said. “Everything’s okay.”

But Mac wasn’t okay. Kelli could see it in his eyes.

At least she could until he slid the sunglasses back into place.

A shiver chattered down her spine, and she fisted her hands in her dress to warm them. Overhead, a

seagull gave a low cry. A wave crashed behind them, but she kept her eyes on Mac.

“Never again,” he said, shaking his head as he turned away. “That’s the last time I let my guard

down.”

Chapter Thirteen

Later that night after Kelli and his mom had gone to bed, Mac sat out on the veranda sipping

Laphroaig with his brother. He’d been talking for an hour, and his mouth felt tired and a little fuzzy

from the scotch.

“So that’s pretty much it,” Mac said, setting his glass down on the small table that separated their

chairs. “One fake engagement keeps weapons out of the hands of hundreds of terrorists. Seems like a

fair trade.”

“That’s the most fucked-up cover story I’ve ever heard,” Grant said, taking a sip of his drink. “You

think Zapata is buying it?”

“Hook, line, and sinker,” Mac said. “You should have seen her at dinner. She charmed the pants off

of him.”

“I imagine she’s done the same for you, too,” Grant said, swirling his scotch in the glass. “Gotta

admit it’s a little weird. She was always like a sister to us.”

“I never thought of her like that. I guess I never thought of her much, period. She was just Sheri’s

little friend.”

“That’s because you’re completely disconnected from your fellow humans,” Grant said good-

naturedly. “And also older than us. Same thing, really.”

“I barely knew her.”

“Seems like you know her pretty well now.” Grant picked up the bottle of Laphroaig and tipped a

splash more into his own glass. He gestured to Mac with the bottle, but Mac shook his head. He had

to keep his wits sharp, especially after what had happened on the beach.

Nothing happened. A car backfired. Everything’s okay.

But everything wasn’t okay. Not by a long shot. He’d let his guard down, let himself get lost in

those unfathomably blue eyes. It could have cost them all dearly.

“Thanks again for protecting her today,” Mac said.

“Dude, it was nothing.”

Mac shook his head. “I should have been the one keeping her safe.”

“I happened to be closer. You’d have done the same thing for my fake fiancée.” Grant studied him

with a thoughtful expression, and Mac resisted the urge to look away. “You really seem rattled.”

“I brought her into a dangerous situation. It’s my job to keep her safe.”

“You sure that’s all it is?”

“Of course. What the hell else would it be?”

Grant shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “Whatever you say, bro. If you don’t want to talk

about feelings, we won’t talk about feelings. How about baseball? Or guns? Or—”

“Or how about the fact that you haven’t had a girlfriend in years. Not since—”

“Okay, okay.” Grant grinned. “Touché, big brother. Let’s not go there.”

They were both quiet a moment, and Mac resisted the urge to fill the uncomfortable silence. He

picked up his nearly empty glass and wondered if Kelli was asleep.

“So what’s the story for the breakup?” Grant asked at last. “You just going to go your separate

ways once the deal is sealed, or are you planning a big ugly throw-down?”

“We haven’t gotten that far yet. I guess we’ll play it by ear.”

Grant snorted. “You, playing something by ear? That’s a first. The Mac I know would have every

conversation mapped out in an Excel spreadsheet.”

Mac shook his head and swallowed the last sip of his scotch, not sure why it suddenly tasted bitter.

It was expensive as hell, normally his favorite. He wondered if Kelli would like it, or if she’d prefer

something sweet and syrupy. He couldn’t begin to guess. Everything about her seemed to surprise

him.

“We’ll figure it out,” Mac said. “Hopefully, Mom won’t be too heartbroken.”

Grant raised one eyebrow. “It’s mom you’re worried about?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grant shrugged and swirled the amber liquid in his glass. “Just that I don’t think Mom’s the only

person getting attached to her. I saw the way you looked at her. Like you want to bend her over the

table and show her your carrot peeler.”

“That’s a seriously fucked-up euphemism.”

“Blame it on the wedding registry.”

Mac shook his head and set his glass down on the small tiled table that separated them. “Whatever

you thought you saw was lust, plain and simple.”

“Maybe. It’s something else, too.”

“Fuck off.”

Grant laughed and set his drink down. “I rest my case. I’ve never seen you this agitated by a

woman.”

Mac grabbed his brother’s glass and downed the last of it in one gulp, feeling restless and edgy.

“So are you sticking around for a little while?”

“Nah, I actually have to get out of here tomorrow morning,” Grant said. “I was telling the truth

about the surf trip, but I only have a few days left of my leave. I just wanted to check on you, see if

you needed any help.”

“I appreciate that.”

Grant nodded and looked at him. “Seems like you’ve got everything under control.”

Mac couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement, but he nodded anyway. “Absolutely.”

Pretty sure that’s true, he thought, slamming his glass down on the table.

…

It was late when he finally headed upstairs. He hesitated on the landing outside the master bedroom,

listening to the sound of crickets outside and the gentle swoosh of the ocean. Through the door, he

heard Kelli sigh in her sleep, and he pictured her lying there with one bare leg thrown over the top of

the covers, her curls tousled with sleep.

Maybe crawling into bed with her was a bad idea. It would just make things harder in the long run,

make it tougher for him to stay objective and keep protecting her like he needed to. He should just go

sleep on the couch.

Grant’s on the couch , he reminded himself. Besides, there’s no better place to keep watch over

Kelli than sharing the same bed.

He wasn’t sure his reasoning was very sound, but he pushed open the door anyway. Surely she was

asleep by now. He could just creep in quietly, fall asleep beside her instead of taking her in his arms.

It was a big bed, after all.

A blade of moonlight fell across the pillow, glinting on her golden curls. She was facing away from

him, and Mac felt his throat tighten as he glimpsed the soft curve of her bare shoulder. Her breathing

was shallow, and Mac ached to curl himself around her body and feel her breasts rise and fall.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood there watching her, wrestling with his conscience. Stay or go?

Be a chaste bedmate or make love to her until neither of them could breathe?

All at once she stirred and rolled to face him. She blinked in the moonlight, then smiled. Her eyes

were sleepy and warm, and the curve of her hip beneath the sheet made Mac dizzy enough to forget

his name. He wanted to run away. He wanted to push himself between her legs and take her hard and

deep.

He settled for putting his hands behind his back so he didn’t reach out to touch her. “Hi.”

She smiled again. “Hi yourself.” She propped herself up on one elbow and patted the bed beside

her.

As invitations went, it was hardly salacious. Mac moved toward her, his mind no longer in control

of his body as he stripped off his shirt and shucked his pants.

No sex. Nothing to cloud my judgment, my professionalism.

He started to reach for her. To his surprise, she turned away from him.

“Spoon me,” she murmured, presenting him with the naked curve of her back.

Mac stifled a groan and moved behind her, the mattress sinking beneath his weight as he curled his

arm around her. “Spoon?” he whispered back. “Is that a sex thing from our Williams-Sonoma

registry?”

She laughed and nestled her backside against the curve of his pelvis. He lost his breath for a

moment, aching to press himself into her. But he regained his composure and snuggled tight around

her, feeling every curve of her flow warm against the hollows of his body.

“Mmm, that’s nice. Sometimes, just cuddling is good.”

“You’re warm,” he murmured against her neck, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.

She pulled his arm tight around her, her breasts soft against the underside of his forearm. They lay

there like that in the moonlight, their breath in sync, their bodies twined together beneath the cool

sheet.

He was pretty sure she’d fallen back asleep, and he started to relax. It was better this way. No sex,

no connection to complicate things.

This isn’t connection?

It wasn’t the same, though maybe that’s what made it dangerous. He breathed her in, feeling her soft

curls catch in his beard stubble. She smelled flowery and warm, and he let his hand slide down over

her hip, memorizing the contours of her thigh. The curtains fluttered on a breeze that tasted like sage

and seawater, and Mac closed his eyes.

I could do this forever, he thought, then kicked himself for it.

No. Not forever. Not even close.

She turned in his arms, and for a moment he was struck by the idea that she’d read his thoughts. Her

eyes held his in the semidarkness, glinting with moonlight and curiosity.

She propped herself up on one elbow and licked her lips. “Tell me about Jillian.”

Her words hit him like a punch to the ribs.

“Jillian?”

She nodded and reached up to tuck a wayward curl behind her ear. A streak of moonlight bathed

her cheek in cool light, and Mac felt his fingers clench tighter around her hip.

“Jillian,” she repeated, her expression determined. “Your mom told me what happened. About your

cousin getting in the car with a strange man and police finding her body a few weeks later. I can’t

even imagine how horrible that was for you.” He watched her throat move as she swallowed. “The

two of you were close?”

He felt himself nodding, even though he hadn’t made up his mind yet about answering her. He

rolled onto his back, distancing himself from her eyes. Her hand settled in the center of his chest, and

something about the gesture made him open his mouth to speak.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I was five, and she was seven, so I pretty much worshiped her.”

“Did you—I mean, you saw it happen?”

He turned his head to the side and met her eyes again, admiring the startling turquoise shade of

them. “We knew about stranger danger, of course,” he said. “We both saw this rusty blue car pull up,

and a man in a black baseball cap. Jillian said he was creepy.”

Her eyes held his, unblinking, as her palm rested over his heart. It felt good there, warm and

necessary. She stroked her fingers absently through his chest hair, and Mac closed his eyes.

He saw the blue car. Saw the man with the mustache and black cap.

“He said he lost his puppy,” Mac said, his words distant to his own ears. “He pointed at Jillian and

said, ‘You there, girlie—come here.’”

“And she went?”

“No. She didn’t. Not at first.” Mac breathed in and out, picturing the man’s face in his head. The

crooked, leering smile. “He pulled out some candy. Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, one of those big

king-size packages.”

His eyes were still closed, so her voice sounded soft and dreamlike when she spoke. “So she went

for the candy?”

Mac opened his eyes and met hers. He’d never spoken the words aloud, not to anyone. He

swallowed and held Kelli’s gaze.

“Jillian was allergic to peanut butter. To peanuts.”

“What?”

“She never would have gone to the car if I hadn’t begged her to.”

Her hand froze on his chest. For a moment the words hung suspended in the air, like he could still

snatch them back if he wanted to. He watched her eyes flicker as realization dawned. Mac waited, not

sure if she’d cry or run or call him names.

He deserved all of it.

Instead, she bent down and kissed his forehead. “Mac, you can’t possibly blame yourself for that.

You were five years old. You couldn’t have known.”

He shook his head, willing her to understand. “If it weren’t for me, Jillian never would have gone

with him. She’d still be alive.”

“Wait—is this why you don’t eat peanut butter? Some sort of penance?”

He swallowed. “It’s fucked-up, I know. It was my favorite treat in the whole damn world, and I

begged her to go get it for me. A stupid fucking peanut-butter cup. Jesus.”

Mac closed his eyes again, suddenly more tired than he’d ever imagined. Kelli’s hand stroked over

his chest, a gesture that was both calming and ridiculously sexy. She was quiet for so long, Mac

thought she might have drifted off.

“What happened to him?” she asked at last. “The man in the blue car. Did the police catch him?”

“The police never caught him.”

He let the words hang there between them in the semidarkness.

“But you did.”

Mac opened his eyes, studying her. “How did you know?”

“Because I know you, Mac. It’s the kind of man you are. You made him pay.”

He nodded once. “Yes. Not enough. It could never be enough but—”

“It’s enough, Mac.” She kissed him on the cheek, soft and sweet and gentle, so unlike the woman

Chapter Fourteen

Kelli didn’t remember drifting off to sleep. She also had no recollection of Mac getting up to pull the

covers over them both, then curling his body around hers so they fell asleep twined together like two

branches.

She opened her eyes in the morning to find his limbs intertwined with hers, his face slack and more

peaceful than she’d ever seen it before. She watched him sleep for a while, replaying the last week in

her mind. Not just the sex, though that had been nice.

It was the conversation from last night that stuck in her mind, the connection she’d felt winding

slowly around them as he’d told her about Jillian. After he’d poured his heart out, she’d reciprocated

with her own stories of her mother. She told him about the shrieking anger, the emotional instability,

the frightening grip of mental illness. She told him about the lullabies, about ice cream in the park,

and the way her mother held her hand when she’d taught her to skip rocks at the beach.

She’d also told him about the foster homes. About never knowing from one month to the next where

home might be, whether she’d find herself abandoned by another family unwilling to care for an

unruly teenage girl.

She looked down at Mac now, wondering why the hell she’d chosen him to open up to. God knows

she’d never done it before, not with any man.

You know exactly why.

Fuck.

She brushed a finger over his cheek, considering how long she’d had a crush on this man. Years.

Decades, even.

Had she ever really known him?

Mac’s eyelids flickered open, a look of alarm quickly replaced by awareness of his surroundings.

“Good morning,” she murmured, drawing her hand back. “Sleep well?”

“Very well.” He ran his hand over her hip. “You?”

“Never better.” She swallowed, wishing she didn’t have morning breath and that her thighs weren’t

stuck together with sweat. This was never as sexy as they made it look in movies.

“Thank you,” she said.

He angled up on one elbow and raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to have to be more specific. For

fingering you in a restaurant, letting you cuff me to the bed, or telling you my deepest, darkest secret?”

She laughed, the sound bubbling up from inside her before she had a chance to stop it. “All of it, I

guess.”

He looked down at the sheet, suddenly very interested in picking at a spot of lint. She waited,

wondering what he was thinking. When he looked up at her again, his brown eyes were unexpectedly

soft.

“I’ve never told anyone about that before,” he said. “About Jillian, I mean. About why she went to

the car.”

Kelli swallowed, unsure how to respond. “Why me?”

“I’m not sure.”

She nodded. That was explanation enough. “Look, Mac—”

The words died in her throat. She wasn’t actually sure what she meant to say.

I never want to fall in love with anyone, ever?

I’m afraid I’m falling in love with you?

Both seemed exactly right and exactly wrong.

“We’re still good, right?” she said at last. “This is a business arrangement for both of us. I mean,

you’re a great guy, and everything we’ve done has been awesome, but I’m not looking for—”

“Shhh.” He put his finger to her lips, halting the awkward flow of words that weren’t going

anywhere anyway. “I’m not planning to vomit out some sappy movie monologue where I announce

I’ve fallen in love and I want to get married for real and live happily ever after in a castle made of

cotton candy.”

“I hate cotton candy.”

“Excellent. Something else we agree on.”

Kelli smiled, ignoring the funny pang in her gut that was either relief or disappointment. “Look, I’m

not the kind of girl who settles down. Long-term commitment, marriage, relationships—none of those

are things I’ve ever wanted or feel like I’m even wired for.”

Mac nodded, his eyes fixed on hers, his expression unreadable. “It’s why I chose you for this

mission. Why this thing between us works.”

“Great. That’s great. Really.” Kelli swallowed. “How about we make a promise?”

He gave her a wry smile. “To love, honor, and cherish, ‘til death do us part?”

She laughed again, hoping he didn’t hear the hollow awkwardness in it. “Besides that,” she said. “I

enjoy spending time with you. I really enjoy fucking you.”

“Likewise.”

“So how about we just agree to keep emotion out of the equation. No falling in love. Ever.”

“Ever,” he repeated, his expression solemn. “Deal.”

She smiled and raised one hand in a mock pledge. “I hereby solemnly swear I shall not fall in love.

Neither rain nor sleet nor snow—”

“Are you making a vow or joining the Postal Service?”

“I’m trying to find the right verbiage for a solemn oath.”

He smiled. “How about over my dead body?”

“That’s pretty fucking solemn.”

“As in I’ll fall in love over my dead body,” he said.

“And I’ll fall in love over my dead body,” she repeated, trying out the words. “Yes, I think that

works.”

“Then it’s settled.”

“Excellent.” She forced a smile, hoping she hadn’t just made a promise she was already on the

brink of breaking. She reached under the covers, groping for him as a distraction from her own

niggling doubts. “Shall we shake on it?”

He grinned and rolled away from her, taking his magnificent appendage with him. “You don’t know

how badly I want to, but I need to go. Duty calls.”

“Doesn’t it always?”

“For both of us,” he said, bending down to pick up his discarded clothing. “Big day of castrating

the city’s wayward feline population?”

“I’m going in at noon. Before that, I’m having brunch with Anna to discuss wedding music.”

“Right, of course—at the café Griselda likes. Good opportunity for her to see you doing wedding

planning.”

“Should I invite your mom?”

“That’ll make it more authentic. I’ll ask Hank to take you, make sure you stay safe.”

“Okay.”

Mac dropped his clothes in a wicker hamper beside the closet before stooping down beside her.

“I’ll see you tonight, then. Dinner with Zapata and some of his associates. Wear something sexy.” He

kissed her swiftly, then rose and made his way to the bathroom.

She heard the shower switch on and thought about joining him. She imagined herself running soapy

hands over his torso, fingers exploring every sinewy limb and curve of muscle.

No. Make some space between you. It’s better that way.

She rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of pink yoga pants, determined to uphold the vow she’d

just made.

…

An hour later, Kelli was showered, dressed, and seated at a quaint café in Todos Santos, sipping an

iced tea while Anna and Stella prattled on about wedding themes.

“So you specialize in offbeat weddings?” Stella asked Anna as she stirred creamer into her coffee.

“Tell me about the strangest wedding you’ve ever planned.”

“Well, there was this one time the bride wore a plaid rubber bodysuit and the groom had this

loincloth with studs all around his—”

Kelli’s mind drifted away from the conversation as she scanned the crowd for Griz. So far, she

hadn’t spotted her, but Mac had said she didn’t come every day. The point was to be seen in public as

much as possible, playing the role of an eager, blushing bride so consumed with love it practically

oozed from her pores.

She smoothed a hand over her arm, thinking her pores and every other component of her flesh was

still tingling from Mac’s kiss good-bye that morning.

It’s just physical attraction. God knows you’ve had that before.

Not like this. Never like this.

“—and then the bridesmaids and groomsmen built a human pyramid while the bride and groom

walked down the aisle to ‘Livin la Vida Loca,’” Anna finished.

Kelli pulled her attention back to the conversation as Stella set her coffee cup down on its saucer.

“That’s really something,” she said. “Will you girls excuse me a moment? I need to visit the ladies’

room.”

Kelli reached for another packet of sugar while Anna’s gaze followed the older woman down the

hall. The instant Stella was out of earshot, Anna grabbed Kelli’s arm.

“Okay, what gives? Spill it, girlfriend.”

Kelli blinked at her, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Your mind is a million miles away. Either you’re contemplating the existentialist philosophy of

moralism, or you’re having second thoughts about this wedding.”

“I always did enjoy existentialism.”

“Bullshit. I’m a wedding planner. I’ve seen that look before. What gives?”

“You’re crazy, Anna. I’m fine, really.”

Anna’s eyes softened, her expression somewhere between sympathy and annoyance. “Honey,

you’re one of my dearest friends. You held my hand when I got my first Brazilian bikini wax.”

“It was only fair since I talked you into it.”

“My point is, we know each other intimately, so I know when something’s on your mind,” she said.

“And considering what I do for a living, I have a strong sense it’s got something to do with this

wedding.”

“It’s just nervous butterflies,” Kelli said, wrapping her palms around her mug of chai. “Planning a

wedding can be stressful.”

“Duh.” Anna shook her head and gripped her own mug. “It’s something else.” She nodded at

Kelli’s hand. “Where’s your ring?”

Kelli looked down at her left hand, almost hoping a solitaire might materialize on her ring finger. “I

told you, we still have to pick it out.”

“You said you were doing that several days ago.”

“I needed a little more time to decide what I want.”

“Is that what this is about? You need more time?”

“Quit trying to psychoanalyze me.” Kelli sighed and poked at a piece of blueberry bagel on the

plate beside her. “Everything’s fine. The man of my dreams is pledging to love, honor, cherish, and

protect me with fruit for the rest of my life. I don’t even have to handcuff him to make him stick

around.”

Anna jabbed a finger at her. “I knew it! That’s what this is about. You’re afraid of being left.”

“Are you stoned? I was making sex jokes.”

“No, there’s a subtext there. That’s what’s going on with you. Your fear of abandonment is making

you panicky about getting married.”

“Or maybe I just want to get laid. Shut up about it, okay? Here comes Stella. Act normal.” She

looked at Anna and shook her head. “As normal as a weird wedding planner with a purple streak in

her hair can manage.”

Anna grinned and squeezed her hand. “I’ll do my best.”

Stella rejoined them at the table and picked up her coffee mug. She looked from Kelli to Anna and

back to Kelli again, her eyes studying them like she expected one of them to confess to sneaking out at

midnight to grope a boy on the playground.

“We were just talking about the bridal party and groomsmen,” Anna said, giving Stella her most

helpful smile. “Do you think Mac will want all his brothers to stand up with him?”

“Good question,” Stella replied. “God only knows where Schwartz is right now. I suppose I should

have asked Grant about it when he was here. You didn’t happen to broach the subject with them?”

“She didn’t get to meet Grant,” Kelli said, quirking an eyebrow at her friend. “It’s too bad,

actually. I think they would have hit it off nicely.”

Anna rolled her eyes. “Thanks, but no thanks.”

“You sure? I had a chance to check him out when he tackled me on the beach yesterday, and I’ve

gotta admit, the man’s ripped.” She looked at Stella and grinned. “You’re the master breeder of well-

built men.”

“I should have that printed on business cards.”

Anna shook her head and picked up her teaspoon. “Thanks, but military men aren’t really my type.

No offense. Besides, I’m still seeing Bryce.”

“Bryce?” Stella asked.

“Anna’s on-again, off-again boyfriend,” Kelli supplied. “A narcissistic, tortured artist who totally

doesn’t deserve her. I thought you guys were off-again?”

“We got back together. And he’s not narcissistic. Much.” Anna clicked her pen, a sure sign she was

feeling agitated. “Okay, so back to your wedding. Maybe tonight you can ask Mac—”

“Ask Mac what?”

They all turned to see Mac striding into the coffee shop. He wore all black—of course—and his

dark sunglasses obscured his eyes.

Kelli felt her traitorous heart do a somersault in her chest. She forced a smile and gripped her

coffee mug to keep from gripping him, or worse, having anyone notice her hands were shaking.

“MacArthur—what a surprise!” Stella said. “What are you doing here?”

“Kelli said she was having breakfast, so I thought I’d swing by for a second.” He smiled at her and

reached into his pocket. “I have something for you.”

Kelli smirked. “Please say it’s something off the Williams-Sonoma registry.”

“Better.” He knelt down in front of her and drew his hand from his pocket. His fingers were

clenched around a small object, and Kelli watched as he uncurled them to reveal a flat palm.

A flat palm that held the most spectacular diamond ring she’d ever seen.

Mac pulled his sunglasses off, his brown eyes locking on hers. For a moment, she didn’t breathe.

Everything in the room began to spin, the smell of coffee and the whir of an espresso machine fading

to a distant blur in her head.

Mac’s eyes held hers, unblinking.

Kelli’s heart surged into her throat, and she burst into tears.

Chapter Fifteen

Mac stood up fast, fumbling for a chair from the table beside them. He sat down in it and grabbed

Kelli’s hands, the ring still held in his palm.

What the hell was she crying for?

“Kelli, dear, there, there,” his mother said, patting her on the back as Mac watched in horror.

“MacArthur, I think you shocked the living daylights out of her.”

Kelli nodded, pulling one hand from his to grab a napkin off the table. She dabbed at her eyes as

she pasted on what Mac recognized as her best make-believe smile. “I wasn’t expecting you—this—I

mean—” She took a gulp of air. “You picked out a ring.”

“Yes,” he said, still reeling from her unexpected reaction. Hadn’t they talked about staging this

performance at some point? True, he’d surprised her with it today—he wanted her reaction to be as

authentic as possible—but he hadn’t expected this.

Was she the best actress ever, or the worst?

“It’s beautiful,” she said. “I mean, it’s one of the ones we looked at the other day at the jeweler, but

I didn’t expect—”

She took it from his hand and slipped it on, not giving him the chance to perform the act the way

he’d hoped. Still, improvising was good. He squeezed her hand and glanced around the shop,

wondering if Griselda was here.

“Thank you, Mac,” Kelli said, pulling him down for a kiss. “I’m never taking it off.”

“I should hope not,” he said, kissing her more passionately than he intended. Across the table, Anna

gave a low wolf whistle.

“Very nice performance!” she called, grinning at them, and Mac tried not to notice the word

performance.

From the corner of his eye, he saw two figures stroll into the coffee shop. Zapata gripped his young

wife’s arm, while Griselda made a beeline for their table.

“Mac! Kelli! So lovely to see you again,” she gushed.

“What a nice surprise,” Kelli chirped back as she stood to embrace Griz. “I was eager to try this

place after you suggested it the other night. You’re right, the bagels are divine.”

“I told you so. Oh—I’m sorry—am I interrupting a meeting here?”

Her gaze fell to the table, where an artful array of binders showed wedding flowers, bridal gowns,

and photos of cakes. Mac resisted the urge to smile.

Perfect.

“It’s no problem, really,” Kelli said. “Just making wedding plans. Griselda, this is my friend and

wedding planner, Anna Keebler. And this is my soon-to-be mother-in-law, Stella Patton.”

“Pleasure to meet you, dear,” his mother said, extending her hand. “You’re friends of MacArthur

and Kelli?”

“Friends, yes,” said Zapata, stepping up behind Griz and resting a hand on her shoulder. “Friends

and business associates. I’m looking forward to talking things over with you this evening, Mac.”

Mac nodded and stood, shaking Zapata’s hand while steadfastly avoiding any contact with Griz.

They were so close to finalizing things now, there was no sense giving the man anything to be jealous

about.

“We’ll be there at eight,” he said. “Anything we can bring?”

“Just yourselves,” Griz chimed in, beaming at him.

Christ, when did arms deals start sounding like Tupperware parties?

“We’re eager to spend more time with you,” Kelli said. “Thank you so much for inviting us. How is

Felix doing?”

“Marvelous,” Griz trilled. “Thank you so much for what you did the other night. He is back to his

normal self.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Mac turned back to Kelli. “Sweetheart, I have to run to a meeting. I’ll see you

back at the house around six?”

“Absolutely,” she said, lifting a hand to his cheek in a move he assumed was meant to display the

sparkler on her finger. She gave him a kiss on the lips—so soft, so sweet, so delicate—and he almost

lunged for more.

No. Don’t overplay your hand.

He drew back, nodded once, and slipped his sunglasses back on. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

He gave her hand a squeeze and offered a curt wave to his mother and Anna before turning back to

Zapata. “Call me if you think of anything we can bring this evening.”

A grenade launcher? An M40 sniper rifle?

“How about a bottle of wine,” Griz said. “If you insist.”

“Of course. See you tonight.”

He looked at Kelli again, so beautiful and sweet in her lavender sundress, and never wanted to

leave.

Get out!

He dropped her hand and walked away fast, not risking a glance back over his shoulder.

…

An hour later, Kelli stood looking down at a box of kittens. There were four of them, tiny and dainty-

pawed with their eyes barely open. Maybe ten days old, if her estimation was correct, and cute as a

bug’s ear if she set aside her veterinary expertise and pretended bugs had ears instead of chordotonal

organs detecting vibration in the tympanic membrane.

She trailed a finger down the spine of the smallest kitten with black-and-white tuxedo markings.

“Mew,” it squeaked, and Kelli’s heart melted. She looked up at the man who’d brought them to the

clinic and posed her question in Spanish. “So you found them in your basement?”

The man gave a vigorous nod. “I’ve been trying to take care of them, but they didn’t want to eat.”

“They’re too little to eat regular food. What did you offer them?”

“Fruit Loops.”

“Okay,” she said, stroking a finger behind another kitten’s ear. “Um, they actually need to nurse, but

if their mother isn’t around, some milk replacer would be the next best thing.”

“Yes, I tried that, too! Nursing, I mean. I put my cat in the box with the kittens to see if they’d

nurse.”

“Oh—your cat is the mother of the kittens?”

“No.” The man shook his head sadly. “But he’s very gentle with them.”

“He? Your cat is male?”

“Yes, Pedro is his name.”

Kelli bit her lip. “Right. See, I don’t think things are going to work out with Pedro nursing these

kittens. Let me check the supply cabinet for some milk replacer. Then I’ll have you talk with Julia out

front to see about getting in touch with the local foster organization.”

Kelli turned and made her way to the back corner of the exam suite, trying to be grateful the word

had spread so quickly about their little volunteer clinic. Besides the spay-and-neuter effort, she’d

been working nonstop tending to other animals who needed care.

She grabbed several cans of milk replacer and a couple small syringes to serve as baby bottles for

her tiny patients. She’d just filled one of the syringes with formula when a familiar figure strode into

the exam room, pivoted, and gave her a brisk salute.

“Hey, Hank,” Kelli said, tipping the kitten’s head back to offer the formula. “I thought you weren’t

picking me up for another four hours.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’m not here to pick you up. I’m sorry. I can see you’re busy. I’ll come back later.”

“It’s no problem. I just need to get some food into these kittens. Is something wrong?”

“I think so, ma’am. A dog—I think it’s been hit by a car. I saw it limping away from the road, and I

tried to catch it. I thought maybe you could help, but if you’re busy—”

“No, it’s okay. Is it far from here?”

“Just a few miles.”

“Let me get one of the volunteers to take over feeding the kittens. I’ll grab my medical bag and meet

you at the car in five minutes?”

Hank nodded, his stoic features looking visibly relieved. “Thank you, ma’am. Mac said you’re

really good at this.”

She felt a soft flutter of pride knowing Mac had been talking up her talents. She was damn good at

her job, and it was nice to have him know that. Love might be overrated as far as Kelli was

concerned, but respect—well, that was worth something.

She hurried to grab her kit, adding a few essentials she thought might be necessary with an injured

dog. A couple splints, some Telazol, definitely bandage material, pain meds. She zipped up the kit

and issued instructions to the young volunteer who seemed delighted to play nursemaid to a batch of

adorable kittens. Then she stepped out the door into the bright sunlight.

The familiar black Town Car idled at the curb, and Hank nodded to her as he stepped around to

open the door. “Thank you for helping,” he said. “I didn’t know what else to do, and the dog looked to

be in bad shape.”

“Poor thing,” she said, swinging herself into the backseat and setting her back beside her.

“Hopefully we’ll be able to find him.”

They rode in silence into a neighborhood Kelli hadn’t visited yet. Nicer homes like Mac’s gave

way to smaller, dingier shacks with mud-streaked windows and razor wire on the fences. One yard

held a car missing all its wheels. Another featured a tatty string of laundry anchored between a pair of

cacti. Her window was up, but she could smell a faint hint of sewage in the air. A skinny cat darted

across the road, and Kelli felt a surge of sympathy.

You can’t save them all, she ordered herself. Focus on the dog.

“Is it much farther?” she called to Hank.

“No, ma’am, just right up here.” He pointed toward a taller building that looked like some sort of

warehouse. “I saw the dog over there, but when I tried to get close, it limped off over that way. I

wasn’t sure about rabies or things like that, so I didn’t chase it too far.”

“You were smart to come get me,” she said, grabbing her medical bag as Hank angled into a

parking spot. “I’ll have a look around.”

She reached for the door handle, but Hank had it open for her before she could do it for herself. He

offered her a hand out of the car, then stood at attention while she stepped away from the vehicle.

I’ve gotten used to this bodyguard thing, she mused as she moved across the cracked pavement

toward the building. She slid her sunglasses over her nose and scanned the horizon. Then she glanced

back at Hank, who was right on her heels with a stoic expression, intent on protecting her. I’m going

to miss having someone waiting on me hand and foot.

It’s not all you’re going to miss.

She turned back to Hank. “You said the dog went that way?”

“Yes, ma’am. Over by that Dumpster.”

Kelli nodded and took off, her medical bag clutched tightly in one hand. She turned the corner of the

building, grateful to be in the shade for a change instead of in the blazing heat of the Mexican sun.

Unlike Mac’s tree-lined neighborhood, there were only a few scraggly cacti and one lone palm tree

that looked like it might have some sort of fungus.

“Here, puppy, puppy, puppy,” she called, keeping her voice sweet and soothing as she gave a low

whistle. “Come here, sweetie. Ven aquí, perrito.”

She made a few kissy noises, peering around the Dumpster and beside a dead shrub.

Nothing.

She kept going, rounding the next corner of the building. She stepped into the blazing sunlight again

and squinted toward the fire escape. Her back prickled with sweat beneath her pink scrub top, and the

smell of the Dumpster made her stomach roil.

But she had to get to the injured animal.

She moved carefully along the back of the warehouse, still calling out to the dog.

“Here, baby!” She whistled again. “¡Ven aquí!”

She slipped her hand into her medical bag, feeling for the syringe that held the Telazol. Injured

dogs could be dangerous dogs, as she knew from experience. She’d sustained more than one bite

wound over the years. Might as well be prepared.

“Here, doggie,” she called again. “Ven aquí, sweetie.”

A shadow fell over her back.

Kelli turned, expecting to see Hank. He was there, but the expression of stoic concern on his face

had been replaced by something darker. Something Kelli didn’t recognize.

She took a step back.

“Hank? You’re sure this is where you saw the dog?”

He stepped toward her. “There’s no dog.”

Kelli shivered, tasting bile at the back of her throat. “What?”

He stepped forward again. “I said there’s no dog.” He reached for his shoulder holster and drew

the pistol. Kelli had seen the gun every time she’d been near him from the moment Mac introduced

them. For the last week, it had made her feel safe.

She looked up at Hank, at that towering wall of muscle and the glint of gunmetal steady in his hand.

At the eyes that were colder than anything she’d seen in her life.

She didn’t feel safe now.

She felt utterly, painfully terrified.

Chapter Sixteen

Running wasn’t an option. That much Kelli knew. With a full foot of height on her and a helluva lot

more muscle, Hank would catch her in three seconds.

A bullet would be even faster.

“Get in there,” Hank snarled, pushing her toward a door. “Move it!”

She knew she shouldn’t go with him, but what choice did she have? She glanced at the gun and

shivered. He shoved her again, and she stumbled forward, fumbling with the doorknob. It turned

easily, and Kelli pried it open, wondering what the hell she was walking into.

“Can’t we talk about this?” she asked. “Whatever you want, I’m sure Mac will—”

“Mac isn’t running the show anymore,” Hank snapped, pushing her through the doorway. “I am.”

Dread knotted her stomach as she moved into the darkened space with Hank on her heels. The room

was pitch-black and darker still as he jerked the door closed behind them. He flipped a light switch,

bathing the room in a swath of dirty yellow light.

She turned and looked at Hank’s menacing face and tried not to shudder. “He trusted you, you

know,” she said. “Mac did. That’s not easy for him.”

“I don’t give a fuck what’s easy for him,” he barked.

“The carjacking,” Kelli said, realization dawning. “You were behind that somehow, weren’t you?”

“It would have gone down much easier that way.”

“What would have?”

“My plan!” he snapped, raising a hand.

She must’ve flinched because Hank gave a nasty little laugh and dropped his hand. Kelli didn’t

relax. “Chill, babe. I’m not planning to rape you or beat the shit out of you or anything.” He hesitated,

then gave a leering shrug. “Well, assuming you do what I say.”

“Which is what, exactly?”

“You’re going to help me turn this fucking arms deal around. Mac’s planning to hand the weapons

over to the U.S. military but there’s a lot more money to be had selling them elsewhere.”

“To terrorists, you mean?”

He rolled his eyes and thrust the gun skyward. “No, to hairdressers. Jesus. Terrorists. You watch

too much television. I’m talking about a highly trained rebel group fighting valiantly by whatever

means necessary to seize control of their government.”

“And that’s different from terrorists how?”

Kelli knew she shouldn’t bait him, but she was trying to buy herself some time. She studied the gun,

which was no longer pointed at her, but dangling loosely from one hand as Hank glanced away to

adjust the lights. If she could just keep him talking—

“I’m done talking,” he snapped. “Now here’s how you’re going to help me.”

Now or never.

She lunged at him, the syringe she’d stashed her pocket clutched in her fingers. She flicked the cap

off with her thumbnail, baring the sharpened point of the needle. She aimed for his biceps, stabbing

with all her strength to sink the point into Hank’s bare muscle.

“What the fucking fuck—”

He grabbed her by the hair with his free hand, jerking her head back. Kelli yelped and jammed the

plunger down, flooding the Telazol into his muscle. Hank yelled and drew his gun back, slamming the

butt of it into her cheek.

She cried out, falling to her knees. He raised the gun, sneering, and aimed at her head.

She looked up to see the syringe still stuck in his biceps. She could smell his sweat and the scent of

her own terror mixed with the dust in the warehouse. He had a crazed look in his eye as he drew his

foot back and kicked her hard in the ribs. Kelli screamed and curled into a ball, hoping he’d kill her

fast.

Hoping against hope the drug would kick in faster.

“Fucking bitch!” he snarled as he jerked the syringe out of his arm and threw it at her. She ducked,

avoiding the needle, but grimacing from the pain in her ribs and the throbbing her cheekbone. She

wasn’t bleeding anywhere, though she guessed Hank planned to remedy that.

He stomped his boot on the syringe, crushing it into a million tiny bits. Then he raised the gun again

and sneered. “Stupid bitch! What the hell were you think—”

That was all he got out before his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the ground. He

landed with a thud, dust clouds billowing around him. Kelli scooted back, barely escaping being

crushed under his weight. He flopped onto the concrete in a big, traitorous heap, and began to drool.

Kelli skittered away. She hesitated, catching her breath, then got to her feet. Her legs were shaky,

but she towered over him.

“I was thinking,” she snarled, “That Telazol is an excellent tranquilizer for mean dogs and mean

men.” She barely recognized the primal sound of her own voice as she reached into her medical bag

for a length of surgical tubing. “And I’m thinking Mac is not going to be thrilled when he finds out

what you’ve done.”

She knelt beside him and worked quickly to bind his hands behind his back, hoping like hell the

drug kept him out long enough for her to get away. She cinched and knotted and tied as fast as she

could with her hands shaking like she was in the throes of a seizure.

When she was done, she sat back on her heels. Her phone was in the car. She just needed to get to it

and call Mac and everything would be okay.

She fished in Hank’s pocket for the car keys, shuddering as she rolled his limp form from one side

to the other. She found the keys and stood up, moving away from him on shaky legs. Clutching her

medical kit, she sprinted for the exit.

She’d almost made it when the door burst open.

The sudden rush of daylight blinded her, sending her staggering backward. A man stepped into the

opening, a woman right on his heels.

Kelli skidded to a stop, her heart lodging in hear throat. “No.”

“I’ll take that,” Griz said, reaching out to yank the medical bag from her hand. Kelli tried to keep

her hold on it, but Zapata raised a vicious-looking assault rifle and aimed at her chest.

Kelli let go of the bag, stepping back.

“I see you’ve taken care of Hank for us,” Zapata said, nodding over her shoulder. “Nicely done.

Saves us the trouble of double-crossing the double-crosser to do our own double-crossing.”

Kelli took another step back, stumbling over her own feet, too stunned to recall how to maneuver

them. “I have no idea what you just said, but please—let me go.”

Griz laughed and tossed Kelli’s medical bag across the room. It landed with a clang, and Kelli

fought the urge to lunge at the woman, clawing and screaming. Griz reached into her purse and pulled

out Kelli’s phone.

“I grabbed this from the car for you,” she said. “You’re going to make a phone call now. You’re

going to summon your fiancé so we can make a few changes to the terms of our business deal.”

“I don’t—why now?” Kelli gasped, her head still spinning from Hank’s blows. “Why not just

ambush us when we both show up to dinner tonight?”

Griz sneered. “Because we’ve seen the way Mac looks at you. How protective he is, how he’ll do

anything for you—anything.” She laughed, a brittle sound that made Kelli’s skin prickle. “We need to

ensure he complies. You are our ticket to that.”

“You’re more useful to us alive than dead,” Zapata said.

Griz gripped the phone in her hand and held it aloft, glaring at Kelli. “Try anything funny, we’ll

blow your brains out in two seconds. Then we’ll go after all your friends, family members, and Mac.”

Zapata nodded and lifted the gun. “Do what we say and summon Mac without incident, and we’ll

let everyone go.”

“Everyone?”

Griz took a step forward. “Everyone but Mac.”

Kelli shook her head, still dazed from Hank’s kick to the ribs and the drama of the last ten minutes.

“You want me to lure my fiancé to his own death?”

Griz shrugged. “It’s either that or we systematically kill everyone you love, ending, of course, with

you.”

“And only after we’ve made you watch us torture your fiancé,” Zapata added, almost cheerfully.

Kelli wiped her hand over her face, feeling a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth. She

looked from Griz to Zapata and back again. “You’re crazy.”

Griz just laughed, a sick, curdled sound that made Kelli’s stomach clench in a tight ball. “Do

exactly as we tell you to do and we won’t have to torture you as well,” she snarled, thrusting the

phone at Kelli’s face. “Now here’s how we want you to play it.”

…

Mac was just wrapping up a meeting when his phone buzzed. He glanced at the readout on the screen

and felt his gut twist with pleasure.

Kelli.

“That’s all for now, boys,” he said, dismissing the assembled men as he stood and sidled toward

the exit. One by one, the soldiers filed past him, saluting even though he hadn’t been a military officer

for ages. One result of this undercover bullshit meant no one knew exactly how to address him.

Mac stepped into the hall and slid his finger over the screen. His phone flickered to life.

“Kelli,” he said as one of the men strode past and made googly eyes at him. Mac turned away,

ignoring him. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great, Mac,” she chirped, perky as ever. “I could use your help though.”

“Help?” he asked, alarm bells ringing in his head. Her tone was breezy, but something seemed off.

“Not help like that—nothing’s wrong, except that I need a hand with some wedding stuff.”

“Wedding stuff?”

“Right. See, I’m meeting with that guy about the wedding venue we wanted—the one on the edge of

the cliff?—and he’s refusing to let me sign for it without my groom present.”

Mac frowned, trying to get a handle on what she was saying.

What the hell?

“Kelli?”

“There’s another couple here ready to put down a deposit on the date we want, and if you don’t

hurry, they’re going to get it.” Her words were hurried and panicky, which may have had something to

do with the wedding venue, if the wedding were real, but—

“You know how much it means to my mother to see us get married there,” Kelli said, her tone so

cheery Mac’s teeth hurt. “It’s sentimental for all of us.”

Mother?

“I understand,” Mac said, not sure he did.

But one thing was for certain: Kelli was in trouble. Someone must be listening to their

conversation. It was the only reason he could fathom for the way she was talking in code, feeding him

clues he couldn’t quite piece together.

“The caterer here said he can make that Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup cake you wanted,” she said,

clearing her throat. “I went ahead and ordered that already, since I know how much you and Jillian

will enjoy it.”

Jesus.

“Okay, so you need me to meet you somewhere?”

“Right,” she breathed. “That place on the cliff. The one we talked about with Anna?”

“I know it. You’re there now?”

“I am. This place is just amazing, honey. I can’t wait for you to see it. And Mac?”

“Yes?”

There was a pause—probably only three seconds—but long enough for Mac to come up with at

least a dozen scenarios for how this could end very, very badly.

“I love you,” she said. “I really, really love you.”

Mac’s flesh went cold.

I’ll fall in love over my dead body.

“I’ll be right there.”

Chapter Seventeen

As soon as Kelli hung up the phone, Griz snatched it away from her.

“Nicely done,” she snapped, turning to her husband. “You’ve got it covered from here?”

“Of course. I’ll meet our friend MacArthur and explain the new financial terms of the deal. If he’s

not willing to double his offer, we’ll apply the necessary leverage.”

They both looked at Kelli. She shivered, knowing damn well she was the leverage.

Fuck.

Had she done the wrong thing?

Had there been any choice?

If she hadn’t made the call, they would have killed her. At least his way, she had some hope Mac

had gotten her message. That somehow, he could still get them both out of this. All she could do now

was put her trust in him.

Easier said than done.

She swallowed and looked at Griz. “So I’m staying here?”

“We’re staying here,” Griz corrected, looking at her husband before turning back to Kelli. “You

and me and the four armed guards positioned outside the building. In case you get any ideas about

running away, they’ve been instructed to blow your pretty little head off.”

Kelli balled her hands into fists. “All this for the person who fixed your lizard’s dick?”

Zapata glanced at his watch, ignoring her. He turned to his wife and spoke low in Spanish. “I’m

going now. You know what to do if I call.”

“I have it under control,” Griz said.

Zapata planted a disgusting wet kiss on his wife’s lips, and Kelli tried not to shudder. She

wondered if she’d ever get a chance to kiss Mac again, and the thought made her eyes prick with

tears.

She blinked them back. Don’t let them see you cry. You have to stay strong.

The voice in her head wasn’t her own. It was Mac’s.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to look at Griz as Zapata shut the door behind him.

Griz tossed her hair and glared at Kelli. “I suppose you think you’re pretty hot shit.”

“You’re holding me at gunpoint. I wouldn’t say this is one of my highest moments of self-esteem.”

Griz snorted in disgust. “Mac never got serious about anyone he dated. Not even me. What the hell

is so special about you?”

“He likes my knitting?”

The punch was so swift, Kelli never saw it coming. She doubled over, trying not to gag. “For

fuck’s sake,” she grunted. “I can’t even knit.”

“You think you’re so funny,” Griz said. “So cute and clever and all he’s ever wanted.”

“Or maybe he’s not a fan of crazy bitches with guns,” Kelli tried, straightening up and bracing

herself for another blow. “Just a theory.”

She expected a punch to the face this time, but Griz just glared at her and stalked away. Kelli fell

silent as Griz paced, her agitation evident in the way she raked her fingers through her hair and

muttered Spanish curses Kelli was grateful not to understand.

When Griz turned back to face her, there was ice in her eyes. “You know he’ll be dead one way or

the other by the end of the day,” she snarled. “So will you. We needed you to lure Mac where we

want him, but there’s no reason to keep either of you alive once the job is done.”

Kelli swallowed hard. She’d figured as much, but hearing Griz say it aloud made the reality sink in.

“Guess you’ll have to find someone else to fix your lizard’s dick next time.”

Griz sneered. “That’s hardly my concern. I can’t stand the stupid animal anyway.”

If Kelli hadn’t already wanted to punch her, she would have really had the urge now. It wasn’t

going to happen—not with Griz still holding the pistol and waving it around like some kind of psycho.

If only there were some way for Kelli to get her hands on it—

A sharp crack outside snapped Kelli’s attention to the door. A second crack sounded, and Kelli

held her breath, waiting for more. She wasn’t terribly familiar with the sound of gunfire, but that’s

what it sounded like to her untrained ears.

“There sure seem to be a lot of cars backfiring around here,” she said, trying to keep her voice from

shaking. “Sounds like a catalytic converter. Or maybe a faulty fuel pump or—”

“Shut up.” Griz’s face creased into a frown. She edged closer to Kelli, pistol raised. “They’re

probably just shooting at stray dogs. Just in case though, it’s a good thing I’ve got a hostage.”

“Good thing,” Kelli repeated, not thinking it was a very good thing at all.

They stood like that for several heartbeats—one? two? a dozen?—their eyes fixed on the door,

Griz’s fingers locked on Kelli’s arm.

The door burst open, and Mac charged through it with four men in fatigues on his heels. But it was

Mac who held Kelli’s attention, Mac whose eyes locked on hers as he marched forward with menace

in his eyes and a wicked-looking gun in his hand.

“Let her go, Griz,” he commanded.

Griz gripped Kelli’s arm tighter and raised the pistol to Kelli’s temple. “Not a chance.”

Mac’s gun was pointed straight at Griz’s head, while Griz aimed hers at Kelli’s. Neither position

seemed the point to a peaceful resolution.

“I’ll shoot her,” Griz said. “You know I will.”

“And I’ll shoot you, then your backstabbing husband. How does that serve you?”

“So how about this,” Griz said, digging her nails into Kelli’s arm. “Back off, and I might let her

live. That’s what you want, right?”

“There are a lot of things I want,” Mac said coolly, his eyes shifting to Kelli’s. He held her gaze for

a moment, his eyes oddly suggestive. “Including my fiancée down on her knees.”

“What?” Griz sputtered. “At a time like this, you’re thinking of—”

Kelli dropped to her knees, jerking her arm from Griz’s grasp as she slid down and out of the way.

The gunshot was loud—louder than she expected—and Kelli cried out and covered her head with her

hands. She squeezed her eyes shut as footsteps pounded around her and the smell of gunpowder filled

her nostrils. She felt the body crumple beside her but couldn’t bring herself to look.

What if she’d read Mac’s order wrong? What if he was the one hit? What if—

“Kelli, look at me.”

She opened her eyes and pulled her hands from her face. Mac was crouched down beside her

looking solid and alive as he pulled her into his arms. He wasn’t wearing sunglasses, and his brown

eyes found hers, searching. She swallowed, locking her gaze with his as everything inside her ached

with emotion.

“Is she—” Kelli couldn’t bring herself to say the words.

“Griz is dead,” Mac said flatly. “And you’re alive. Thank God. Are you okay?”

“I think so,” she said. Her voice sounded hoarse, and her whole body was shaking. “Hank got in a

few good punches before I got him down, but I don’t think I’m badly hurt.”

Mac cursed and hugged her tighter, and she felt the trembling start to subside. “Why aren’t you on

the cliff?” she asked. “How did you find me?”

“Your ring.”

“What?”

“It’s a tracking device. I had a feeling it might come in handy, but I didn’t realize how soon.”

She swallowed, realization dawning as she gazed down at the stone. She studied it, blinking back

tears, then looked up at Mac. “You saved my life.”

“You saved your own life,” he said. “Unless Hank tied his own hands together with surgical

tubing?”

Kelli looked over at Hank’s prone form. One of Mac’s men was taking his pulse, and Kelli

shuddered at the sight of it. “He’ll wake up shortly.”

“He’ll wish he hadn’t.”

Kelli swallowed, her brain still stuck on the knowledge that Mac had rescued her. That he’d come

through for her, that she could count on him to be there for her no matter what.

“You saved me,” she said again. “If it weren’t for you ordering me down on my knees—”

“If it weren’t for your crazy antimarriage vows and your phony declaration of love—”

“Mac,” she said, swallowing hard as realization dawned. She looked him straight in the eye,

unblinking, unwilling to look away for even a moment. She licked her lips. “It wasn’t phony.”

His eyes went cold. “What?”

She took a deep breath. Keep the story as close to the truth as possible.

“It wasn’t phony,” she said, her eyes filling with tears. “I’ve been fighting it for a long time, trying

to pretend it wasn’t happening—that I wasn’t developing real feelings for you and I could still walk

away and I didn’t really love you—but I am and I can’t and I do.”

She was sobbing in earnest now, her heart a twisted mess of relief and joy and sorrow and love.

Mostly love.

Mac just stared at her. Then he stood up, his expression completely unreadable. He took two steps

back, and Kelli went cold all over.

“Brian and Carlo will take you to the hospital now,” he said, tucking his gun back into the holster

and taking another step away. “We need to make sure you’re okay. After that, you’re free to go. I’ll

have the money wired to your account first thing in the morning.”

Kelli blinked. He hadn’t thrown a single punch, but his words hit harder than any blow Hank had

delivered. What the hell had she expected?

To love. Honor. Cherish.

Idiot.

“Mac—”

“I have to go,” he said again, reaching behind him for the doorknob. “I have to—” He raked his

fingers through his hair, making it stand up in unruly spikes that Kelli longed to smooth down with her

palms, but she made no move to get up off the floor. “Zapata,” Mac choked out. “The cliff. Payback. I

need to—fuck!”

He pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and jerked them on. Then he turned and shoved his way

out the door, leaving Kelli speechless on the floor.

“Fuck,” she repeated, staring at the door. “Two weeks ago, that was all I needed, too.”

…

After it was all over, Mac drove around the city for hours. He had no idea how long, but it was still

light when he left Zapata’s house and now the night sky was pitch-black and pockmarked by a million

blinking stars.

What the hell had he done?

He’d almost gotten her killed. Christ. The person who meant more to him than anyone else in the

world had nearly lost her life because of him.

Again.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have let his guard down like that? It wouldn’t

happen again. He’d make sure of that. He’d get her back on a plane tonight if he could, or tomorrow

morning at the latest. He’d never see her again, that much was obvious, but at least she’d be safe from

terrorists and arms dealers and double-crossing undercover agents.

And from me.

It was after midnight when he got back to the house. He made his way up the walk praying to every

deity he could imagine that his mother would be asleep. Praying Kelli wouldn’t be there to greet him.

Praying he could be completely alone to kick himself over and over until he—

“Hello, Mac.”

Mac closed his eyes and shook his head. “God hates me.”

“Good to see you, too, big brother.”

Grant’s voice was cheerful as always, but there was an edge to it. It might have been Mac’s

imagination. It also might have been the fact that he was lurking in the shadows, his back against the

side of the house like he was lying in wait for prey.

That would be me, Mac thought grimly.

“What are you doing here, Grant? And why the fuck are you standing outside in the dark?”

“Waiting for you. Gotta say, your reflexes are going to shit. I could have double-tapped you

between the eyes the second you got out of the car if I were a criminal thug instead of your loving

brother.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

Grant pushed away from the house stretching under the porch light, as he studied Mac with an

unsettling intensity. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“Zapata double-crossed me,” he said. “Hank and Griz and—”

“I know all about that,” Grant said, waving a dismissive hand. “Carlo told me about it when he got

back from the hospital. I meant what happened with Kelli.”

“Kelli?”

“Jesus, Mac.” Grant shook his head, looking disgusted. “Your fake fiancée? The woman who loves

you for real and who you love back if only you pulled your head out of your ass for ten minutes?”

“Oh. That Kelli.”

Grant folded his arms over his chest. “You’re a dick.”

“Thank you. Can I please enter my own home now?”

“No.”

Mac stared at his brother, trying to remember the last time Grant had stood up to him. He was pretty

sure his kid brother had still been in diapers and the incident had involved a dispute about a plastic

army figure. It wasn’t that Grant was a pushover or a wimp. He just preferred to choose his battles.

Mac sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Why is this your battle?” he asked tiredly.

“Because you’re being a dumbass. I saw how you looked at her and how she looked at you.”

“With terror?”

“Exactly!”

Mac shook his head. “And I should chase after that because?”

“Because she’s scared to death of commitment, but there’s something else that scares her more.”

“My insane family?”

Grant ignored him. “The fear that you’ll leave her. Congratulations, that’s what you just did.”

Mac sighed. “Why are you busting my chops on this?”

“Because you’re afraid, too.”

“I just tracked down a notorious arms dealer and shoved him over a cliff to his own death. What the

hell would I be afraid of?”

Grant’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch. “You got Zapata?”

Mac nodded, too tired to speak.

“Good. That’s half your fear, anyway.”

“What is?”

“The fear of not being able to protect the people you love. You saved Kelli. From the bad guys,

anyway. Just not from yourself.”

“Since when did you become Sigmund Fucking Freud?”

“Since I watched my big brother screw up the best thing that ever happened to him,” Grant barked.

“I love you, but you’re being an idiot.”

Mac raked his fingers through his hair again and fought the urge to kick something. “I don’t have

time for this.”

“You love her. You know you do, and she loves you, too. Now go find her.”

“Find her?” Mac asked, a sense of alarm jolting through him. “She’s gone? Where is she?”

Grant shook his head. “You’re such a dumbass sometimes.”

“What?”

“You know her. Better than you know yourself, it looks like. You can figure out where she went.

The question is, do you have the balls to go to her?”

“You’re starting to piss me off with this shrink act.”

“Good. It’s about goddamn time you showed a little emotion.”

Grant stared him down for a moment, arms folded over his chest. Mac stared back, trying not to let

his brother’s words get to him. At last Grant turned and opened the front door. He stepped inside,

casting one last look over his shoulder.

Mac hesitated, part of him wanting to follow. To just go upstairs, crawl into bed, and pretend the

whole goddamn thing never happened. No fake engagement, no sex games, no confessions or

expectations.

No sunny laughter or whispered conversations or bright turquoise eyes looking straight into

your soul.

“Fuck you,” Mac said, as much to himself as to his brother.

“That’s the spirit.”

Mac shook his head. Then he pushed past his brother and stalked into the house.

His fists were still clenched when he got to the master bedroom, and he made a conscious effort to

uncurl his fingers.

Her suitcases were packed and piled up beside the door. He scanned the room, looking for any

trace of her. On the dresser, he spotted a large manila envelope. He walked over and picked it up,

expecting a letter from her telling him what an asshole he was. How he’d let her down, betrayed her

trust, proven himself unworthy and unreliable.

She’d be right.

But the envelope wasn’t addressed to him. It bore her name, in handwriting that looked a lot like

his brother’s. Pushing aside the voice that told him he shouldn’t be snooping, he opened the flap on

the envelope and pulled out a single sheet of notebook paper. More jagged handwriting he recognized

as Grant’s. He frowned down at the page and began to read.

Kelli,

Thought you might like to keep some of these. If my brother ever pulls his head out of his

ass, maybe they’ll come in handy.

Love you (but only like a sister, so don’t get creeped out),

Grant

Mac frowned and set the paper aside. He reached back into the envelope, and pulled out a handful

of five-by-seven photos. It took him a moment to register what he was seeing.

Kelli on the beach laughing up at the sky.

Kelli twirling in the sand, curls spilling into the sunshine around her.

Kelli with a perfect, white seashell in the palm of her hand and a sparkle of sunlight in her eyes.

Kelli up close with a look of love so intense, Mac felt his lungs seize.

He flipped to the next photo and stared.

It was a picture of the two of them, faces touching, eyes locked together, lips so close he could

swear he felt her breath against his cheek. Mac’s hand was on her face, and Kelli looked at him with

that same spellbound expression in the other photo.

But it was the look on his own face that slayed him.

Love. Admiration. Lust. Adoration.

All of it wrapped up in one simple, stupid, love-struck smile. He’d never seen himself look at

anyone that way before.

You’ll never see it again, either. Not ever. Not with anyone else.

His hands began to shake, and Mac set the photos down. He swallowed hard, at a loss for what to

do next. Something else caught his eye on the dresser. He reached out and picked it up.

“The ring,” he said aloud, turning it over in his hand. The diamond sparkled, and the rose gold

seemed warm to his touch.

She’d taken it off. He couldn’t blame her. He’d abandoned her, just walked away like a total

jackass. In one fell swoop, he’d hit her with the two things she feared most: falling in love, and being

abandoned.

Congratulations, asshole.

Mac curled his fingers around the ring, clenching hard enough to feel the stone biting into his palm.

He closed his eyes, but all he could see was the look on her face in that photo. The look on his own

face. The kind of love that didn’t hit people upside the head every day.

He opened his eyes again and shook his head. There were no guarantees. No certainty he could

keep her safe or that he wouldn’t screw up again. No assurance she’d always be safe from danger.

He looked at the photo again, at the look of love on her face. On his.

Maybe there was one guarantee…

He turned and stormed out of the room.

Chapter Eighteen

There was something peaceful about lopping off testicles at three in the morning.

Kelli finished tying off the spermatic cord of a mangy-looking tabby and peeled off her surgical

gloves. Her heart felt heavy, but at least her hands were busy.

“Your days of being a ladies’ man are over,” she informed the unconscious feline. “You may find

yourself developing an overwhelming interest in handbags and cooking shows.”

She moved to the sink and scrubbed her hands, then dried them carefully on a paper towel. Her

thoughts drifted back to that warehouse. Back to the moment she’d said the words she could never

take back, not ever.

I love you.

How fucking stupid could she be?

They’d both promised not to fall. That emotion would never come between them, no matter what.

Mac had held up his end of the bargain. He’d been a man of honor, a man of his word.

She was the one who’d changed.

Okay, so she’d screwed up. She’d fallen in love against her better judgment. It would go away,

wouldn’t it? Surely there was a pill she could take or a few therapy sessions or something. Love was

basically a disease, so there had to be a cure for it.

“Never again,” Kelli ordered herself as she pulled on a fresh pair of gloves.

She turned back to the operating table where another feline was stretched out unconscious, his

marble sack awaiting her ministrations.

“At least that’s one thing I can still do right.”

She sighed and picked up her scalpel.

The clinic door banged open. She jerked her head up, expecting one of the three bodyguards who’d

insisted on stationing themselves outside, guns in hand. But it wasn’t a bodyguard standing in the

lobby with disheveled hair and wild eyes and hands balled into fists at his side.

“Mac,” she said, dropping the scalpel. It barely missed her foot, and she cursed her own

clumsiness. While she was at it, she cursed Mac, too. She cursed his stupid good looks and his idiotic

sense of honor and his ridiculously beautiful eyes and the fact that just staring at him now made her

fall for him all over again.

She looked away, her eyes on the floor, on her scalpel.

“Kelli, look at me. Please.”

She took a shaky breath.

You can do this.

She pasted on a cheerful expression. “I’ve got three more neuters and six spays to go. If you’re

going to be here, you’ll need to scrub in.”

“Scrub in?”

“Sink’s over there. Gloves are right beside it. Could you grab that scalpel first and stick it in the

autoclave?”

Mac blinked at her, then nodded once and followed her orders. Gathering her wits, Kelli moved to

the second operating table and assessed a skinny black cat who was missing half his left ear. She got

busy plucking the fur around his junk, grateful her hands were steady despite Mac’s unsettling

presence.

He stepped into place beside her, his warmth unsettling her even more. She focused on her work,

tugging out the fur in soft little clumps. She reached for the antiseptic and began to swab, trying to

keep her breathing even.

“I’ve been thinking—” Mac began.

“Could you hand me that fresh scalpel over there?”

Mac shook his head. “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“It’s fine, Mac,” she chirped. “Everything’s fine. Scalpel? Careful not to touch anything when you

unwrap it.”

He frowned and reached for the tool. He peeled back the wrapping, making sure his fingers didn’t

contact the sterile blade. His hand brushed hers as he handed her the scalpel, and Kelli fought the urge

to cry.

Mac cleared his throat and tried again. “Like I said, I’ve been thinking—” He stopped, shook his

head, and tried again. “I’ve always been thinking. That’s really the problem, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“I’ve only been thinking, not doing any actual feeling for a really long time. Not until you showed

up.”

Kelli could feel the lump forming in her throat, and she held the scalpel poised above the cat’s

scrotum, waiting. For what, she couldn’t say. Mac fell silent, either gathering his thoughts or

completely finished with what he’d come to say. She dared a glance at him and felt her heart dissolve

into a big, stupid puddle.

No! Control this. Stop it now.

She took a breath and made the incision.

“Oh, Jesus,” Mac groaned. “Okay, wait—I need to tell you some things.” His voice was rushed and

a little shaky, but Kelli kept her eyes on her work.

Mac began to pace.

“My first kiss was a girl named Sadie when I was in the second grade, and we held hands

afterward on the school bus,” he said. “I love cherry popsicles but hate the grape ones. I’ve never

owned a dog because I can’t bear the thought of having it die someday. I am deathly afraid of snakes,

even though I try to pretend I’m not. I sometimes miss the military, but I love working for myself and I

desperately want my parents to be proud of me. The last time I cried was six years ago at a buddy’s

funeral. I am hopelessly turned on by smart, competent women, even when they’re cutting off a cat’s

testicles while I do my damnedest to profess my love.”

Kelli looked up, startled. “That’s how you profess your love? By telling me about popsicles and

snakes?”

Mac nodded and raked his hands through his hair. “I’m new at this. I’m trying to let you in and be

vulnerable and open and all that other shit I’m not very good it.” He swallowed, and Kelli looked

back down at the cat. She slipped out the testicles and began tugging to break up the ligaments.

“Holy shit!” Mac gasped. “Look, I want to get better at it. I’m just scared, okay? I’m scared of

feeling. I’m scared of not feeling. I’m a big, fucking chicken.”

Kelli focused on her figure-eight technique with the hemostat, tying off the spermatic cord like

she’d done a thousand times before. “You killed Zapata, didn’t you?”

He was quiet a moment, and Kelli kept her eyes on her work.

“Yes.”

“How can a man who faces down terrorists without blinking be so terrified of his own goddamn

emotions?”

“I blinked,” he said. “At least twice. And after I shot him and threw his body off a cliff, I went back

to his house.”

“You what?”

Mac reached into his pocket, the rubber gloves making his hands look blue and alien. “Your

necklace,” he said, drawing it out of his pocket. “I knew how much it meant to you and I wanted to get

it back.”

Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them back and grabbed her scalpel.

“Christ,” Mac hissed as she sliced off the testicles.

She set them aside and felt Mac move behind her. Her breath caught in her throat as he fastened the

necklace in place.

“I’ll never be good at the emotional stuff,” he said. “I’m going to screw it up—lots of times—and

I’m probably going to be a jackass to you on more than one occasion. But I want to try to do better. I

want to learn.”

Kelli let the spermatic cord retract back into the incision, amazed how steady her hands were in

spite of everything. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” His voice cracked on the you, and he tried again, more forcefully. “I love

you. I didn’t realize it because I’ve never been in love before. Not once. And I know I freaked out and

handled it badly, but I want to make it up to you.”

Kelli set down the scalpel but kept her eyes on the table, digesting his words. “You love me,” she

said, looking up at him. “How do you know?”

“Because the thought of losing you makes me want to rip out my own testicles with a sharp object.”

He grimaced. “So to speak.”

“So to speak.”

“I don’t know how it happened, and I’ll admit it’s scaring the shit out of me—more than watching

you cut the nuts off that cat—but I can deal with that. With all of it. Because I love you and want to be

with you.”

He dropped to one knee, and Kelli gasped. He started to reach for her hand, then stopped, frowning

at it. He turned his palm up, displaying the beautiful diamond ring that had graced her hand just a few

hours ago.

“I’m guessing those gloves are sterile, and I’m not sure this ring would fit over them anyway,” he

said. “But I want you to have it. The ring and the promise that goes with it. I will always be there for

you. I’ll always watch over you. But most of all, I’ll always love you.”

He stayed there on the floor, eyes fixed on hers as her heart pounded in her ears. She swallowed,

watching him kneel there, feeling his words sink into her soul as the ring lay heavy on his gloved

palm. Her hands were shaking now, and she wasn’t sure whether to reach for the ring or for him or

for her scalpel.

He stood up, his expression endearingly unsure. He reached out, and for a moment she thought he

was going to cop a feel. Instead, he tugged the edge of the breast pocket on her scrubs and dropped

the ring inside. He pressed his hand over it, holding it in place over her heart. Over her boob, too, but

mostly over her heart.

Kelli swallowed again not sure what to say, but knowing she couldn’t hold back the tears much

longer. She nodded stupidly, not trusting her own voice.

“I’m abysmally bad at this,” he continued. “I’ll probably be an insensitive prick more often than

you’d like. I’m a slow learner and a control freak and a bossy, anal-retentive—”

“You’re right about one thing.”

He swallowed. “Which one?”

“You’re abysmally bad at this.”

“Thank you.”

She smiled as a single tear plopped down her cheek. “So am I. I’m terrified of commitment and

petrified of love and a mess of fucked-up ideas left over from a shitty childhood.”

Mac shook his head. “How did two of the most dysfunctional, broken people end up falling for

each other?”

Kelli felt her smile get wider, and she peeled off her gloves to wipe away the tear. Then she

reached into her pocket for the ring. She held it a moment, studying it. Then she slipped it on her

finger and met his eyes again.

“Maybe between your broken pieces and my broken pieces, we can find a way to fit everything

together and make something whole.”

Mac nodded. “That sounds good. Also a little dirty.”

She laughed and looked at him—really looked at him this time, not through the haze of a childhood

crush or the blur of adult lust, but through the lens of reality.

He was big and powerful and sexy as hell, and everything she’d fantasized about for years.

But he was also shaken and rattled and unsure, which was not what she’d pictured in all her years

of imagining him.

He was better.

“Okay,” she said, stepping forward so they were almost touching. “I’m in. Let’s give this a shot.”

Mac grinned and pulled her into his arms, kissing her with a fierceness that took her breath away.

Kelli kissed him back, twining her fingers around his neck as she stretched up on tiptoe and he bent

low and somehow, they met in the middle.

She wasn’t sure who broke the kiss first, but it was Mac who glanced at the operating table. “Not to

kill the mood, but could you maybe do something about those cat nards?”

Kelli grinned and looked down at her unconscious patient. “That’s not your idea of romantic?”

“Actually, I guess it is,” he said. “Any happily-ever-after with you is going to involve balls.”

She laughed and stretched up to kiss him again. “Yes it is. It definitely is.”

Did you love this Lovestruck?

Acknowledgments

Thank you so much to Dr. Emily Bemrose for not only letting me pick your brain for veterinary

knowledge, but for taking spectacular care of all my fur-babies over the years. You’re the best!

I’m super grateful to Jeff Jensen, owner of The Reptile Zone in Bend, Oregon, for giving me an

awesome introduction to the Argentine tegu and other cool critters. If it weren’t for you, I could never

speak knowledgeably about reptile penises at cocktail parties.

I’m flattered, honored, and a little bit baffled by the huge volume of readers who’ve contacted me

almost daily since the release of Marine for Hire, asking when Mac and Kelli’s story would be

available. Thank you for your enthusiasm and encouragement. This one’s for you!

Huge thanks to Linda Grimes, Linda Brundage, Cynthia Reese, Larie Borden, Bridget McGinn, and

Minta Powelson for all your crazy-fast turnarounds and crazy-insightful critiques (and all-around

craziness, of course).

My undying gratitude to the whole Entangled team, especially Heather Howland, for crying over my

dirty jokes and laughing at my tender moments. Wait, does that sentence need to be edited?

Big hugs and kisses and thank-yous to Michelle Wolfson of Wolfson Literary Agency for doling out

good advice, moral support, and kick-ass agenting in equal measure.

Thank you to my family, Dixie and David Fenske and Aaron and Carlie Fenske, for always being

there for me, and for making sure the world is well stocked with Fenskes. Thanks a million to my

awesome stepkids, Cedar and Violet, for understanding why you’re not allowed to read my books or

friend me on Facebook.

And thank you to Craig for tirelessly coming to my aid when I request assistance in choreographing

a sex scene. You’re a real trooper.

About the Author

Tawna Fenske traveled a career path that took her from newspaper reporter to English teacher in

Venezuela to marketing geek to PR manager for her city’s tourism bureau. An avid globetrotter and

social media fiend, Tawna is the author of the popular blog, Don’t Pet Me, I’m Writing, and a

member of Romance Writers of America. She lives with her fiancé in Bend, Oregon, where she’ll

invent any excuse to hike, bike, snowshoe, float the river, or sip wine on her back deck. She’s

published several romantic comedies with Sourcebooks, Coliloquy, and Entangled Publishing. Her

quirky brand of comedy and romance has won praises from RT Book Reviews, Library Journal, and

the Chicago Tribune, which noted, “Fenske’s wildly inventive plot & wonderfully quirky characters

provide the perfect literary antidote to any romance reader’s summer reading doldrums.”

www.tawnafenske.com

Discover the Front and Center series…

ARINE

FOR

IRE

a Front and Center novel by

Tawna Fenske

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duty—playing nanny for their newly divorced sister and her seven-month-old twins. Problem is, Sheridan has sworn off overbearing

military men, so Sam must hide his identity. And that he’s been ordered not to touch her. Ever. But even the most disciplined Marine has

weaknesses…and Sheridan is one Sam might not be able to resist.

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and a date with Cami. Suddenly Cami’s lust for junk food isn’t the only thing making her tingle. When this sinful chef and hot yoga

teacher eat, play, and lust together, they just might bring their obsession to a new level.

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and if anyone needs to meet his soul mate, it’s this man. Addison is determined to stick to her plan despite the chemistry flaring between

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what happens in Vegas might not stay in Vegas…

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a One-on-One novel by

Jamie Wesley

Life, and love, is too short to take seriously—a fact radio sportscaster Tate Grayson enjoys rubbing in uptight radio host Noelle Butler’s

face. But when he tells his listeners men shouldn’t get married, she’s all too happy to call in and yank the silver spoon out of his

overprivileged mouth. Their heated on-air arguments are a hit, but when they’re forced to do a joint show for two weeks, they must pull

the struggling radio station back from the brink or they’ll lose their jobs. Or worse, their hearts.

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Claire Williams is off to see the world, but first, she needs quick cash. A temp job at Anderson Auctions seems perfect, especially with

the unexpected benefit of the hottest man she’s ever laid eyes—or hands—on. William Anderson’s military training makes him the

perfect man to flush out the spy undercutting his family business, but no amount of time in the Marines could prepare him for the

suspicious—and sexy—new temp. Desire lands them in bed…but duty may cost him his heart.

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