Secret Agent Boyfriend (2 page)

“No one can know what I’m after.”

“Of course.”

“Not even your mother.”

“Then it won’t be a change from how we usually get on. I don’t tell my mother anything. And as you so succinctly mentioned, she’s out of the country right now anyway.”

With her eyes shaded, he couldn’t see any hint of emotion deep in her expressive gaze, but even sunglasses couldn’t hide the subtle tightening of her slim shoulders. “So we’re agreed?”

“Agreed.”

She extended her hand across the table and Derek hesitated, the implied contract not lost on him. When she only waited, he slid his fingers over hers, her delicate skin soft under his calloused palm.

It didn’t make sense, nor was it rational, but in that moment he knew his world had reordered itself. And he knew with even greater certainty that nothing would ever be the same again.

Her hand slipped from his as she stood, her breakfast untouched. “Well, then. You’d better get ready.”

“For what?”

“We’ve got a governor to go meet.”

* * *

Landry slipped her cell phone into her caramel-colored clutch purse and left her room. She’d already fastened on her suit—Armani, of course—and the subtle jewelry that had become her trademark. Her heels sank into the ranch’s plush carpet as she moved from her wing toward the main staircase.

Although she’d been raised with the understanding that not much was expected of her beyond perfect hair, impeccable manners and a few well-chosen charities, she’d determined early on that she wasn’t going to let that be an excuse. So she’d channeled the frustration born of low expectations—along with boredom and a damn fine business degree—into making life better for others.

It had been a fulfilling choice until recently.

Until the bottom had dropped out of her world and she’d been forced to wonder about the morals, ethics and basic decency of her loved ones.

And her mother sat at the top of the list.

As Patsy Adair’s youngest child—and only daughter—she’d grown up with the knowledge that her mother was different. Cold and brittle, she wore both like a battle shield against the world. And wielded them equally well.

As a result, Landry had gone to the right schools. Had the right friends. Hell, she’d nearly even married the
right
man because it fit what was expected of her.

Wealth brought privileges and expectation in equal measure, and Landry had always understood that. What she couldn’t understand was how her mother could live a life so devoid of warmth and kindness.

Or love.

She turned down the last corridor toward the stairs and came to a stop at the top, thoughts of her family and their low expectations vanishing as if they’d never been.

Derek Winchester stood in the great hall, a phone pressed to his ear, and she gave herself a moment to look her fill. The same impression she’d gotten this morning of subtle strength and power was still there, but she let others swirl and form around it. He was tall and whipcord lean, but the strength in those broad shoulders was more than evident.

His coloring was dark—darker than she’d realized in the sun—and she placed his ancestry as holding some, if not all, Native American. Unbidden, an image of him on horseback filled her mind’s eye, roaming the High Plains and protecting his family from harm.

Protecting what was his.

She fought the fanciful notion and continued on down the stairs, already on the descent before he could catch her staring at him. Landry fought the slight hitch in her chest when she cleared the last stair and came to stand next to him.

And she refused to give an inch by relaxing the haughty demeanor that she swirled around herself like a cloak. “Do you have a suit jacket?”

“In the car.”

“And a tie?”

“Right next to the jacket.”

“Then let’s get them and go.”

Twenty minutes later they were on their way toward San Diego in her BMW. Unwilling to ruin her hair, she left the top up all while cursing herself for the choice. She should have selected her large SUV instead of the tight confines of the two-seater.

Serious mistake.

Derek’s large body filled up those confines and she could swear she felt the heat rising off the edge of his shoulders, branding her with its intensity.

“What event are we going to?”

Landry filled him in on the work of her favorite charity, the project’s focus on children an ongoing highlight in her life. Although she’d let several of her other commitments lapse over the last few months since her father’s death, she’d refused to cut ties with the bright and able-bodied leaders who worked tirelessly to ensure that the children of Southern California had enough basic necessities to not only survive, but blossom.

Weekend camps, tutoring and days out simply enjoying their youth were a mainstay of the organization, and in the past three years she’d seen the children who took part begin to thrive.

“Sounds like a special group. Why is the governor attending?”

“He promised some additional funding if we met certain testing criteria, and the children in the program exceeded every goal set for them.”

“You’re proud of them.”

“Absolutely.” The response was out, warm and friendly, without a trace of her “haughty demeanor” cloak.

“Everyone needs a champion. Those children are lucky to have you on their side.”

Whether it was the close confines or something more, Landry didn’t know, but she sensed something underneath his words. Treading carefully despite the curiosity that ran hot in her veins, she nodded and kept her tone neutral. “All children deserve that.”

“Even if there are too many who don’t get that opportunity. Or a chance to shine.”

And there it was.

That subtle suggestion of something indefinable. Of something
more
.

“You speak from experience?”

“My work revolves around missing-persons cases. There aren’t nearly as many happy endings as there should be. Or beginnings, for that matter.”

The urge to remain distant was strong, but something long dead inside her sparked back to life. “It sounds like a taxing profession.”

“At times. But it’s also one I’m good at. Your aunt was a part of that.” She shifted into another lane, the sign for their exit coming up, and he continued on. “I was on her protection detail, but she saw something in me. She knew I had ambitions beyond security, and when a job opened on the FBI’s missing-persons team she gave me a glowing recommendation.”

“You must have impressed her. Kate Adair doesn’t do ‘glowing’ lightly.”

“She’s a special woman.”

Landry risked a glance at him as she slowed for her exit ramp. His face was set in hard lines as he stared straight ahead, his gaze set on something only he could see. Once more, the realization that something hovered just under the surface tugged at her.

The hotel came up on her right, and she pulled into the valet station. Two valets rushed to open their doors, the man on her left all smiles as he gave her his hand. “Welcome back, Miss Adair.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

Landry didn’t miss Derek’s widened eyes over the top of the car or the assessing gaze that accompanied his perusal. Annoyance speared through her at the speculation she saw there—and the surprise that she’d know the name of a hotel employee.

Whatever he thought—or whatever she believed she’d seen—vanished under a facade that was all business as he rounded the front of the car. With swift movements, he took her hand. “Come on, darling.”

Heat traveled up her arm, zinging from her fingers to her wrist to her elbow before beelining straight for her belly. She kept her expression bright and her smile wide, even as she clamped down on her back teeth. “What do you think you’re doing?”

His grip tightened, his smile equally fierce as another set of employees opened the hotel’s double front doors. “Why, escorting you, of course.”

“I hardly think this is necessary.”

“Of course it’s necessary. People see what they want to see, and we’ve got something for them to talk about. You’re showing off your new love, whom you can’t bear to be parted from.”

While she’d later admit to herself she had no excuse, in that moment she could no more stop herself than she could have voluntarily stopped breathing. The combative imp that liked to plant itself on her shoulder—the one that regularly whispered she needed to push against convention and what was expected of her—couldn’t resist putting her earlier impressions into words.

“So it’s all about distraction, then.”

The rich scent of lilies filled the air around them, dripping from the six-foot vases that filled the lobby of the hotel, a vivid counterpoint to the foul stench of her father’s murder that had seemingly clung to her—to all of them—for the past two months.

“Distraction?” Derek’s eyebrows rose over the almost-black depths of his eyes.

“Of course. It helps hide the secrets. Like a sleight of hand, it focuses attention elsewhere.”

“Are you suggesting you’re hiding a secret?”

“No. But I think you are.”

Landry had to give him credit, he held it together, his poker face firmly intact. If she hadn’t been looking for it, she wouldn’t have even noticed that slight tightening of his jaw that gave him away.

“Everybody’s got a few, you know. But in this case, I’d say your secrets are more present. Recent, even,” she said.

“I don’t have any secrets.”

“Oh, no?” Landry waited a beat or two—her father had taught her the effectiveness of the approach—and watched as his attention caught, then held on her. “Then what is a big, bad FBI agent doing here on babysitting duty?”

Chapter 2

S
ecrets.

The word whispered over and over through Derek’s mind, filling up every nook and crevice until he barely knew who he was anymore.

Hell yes, he had secrets. And an endless series of questions that always culminated in the biggest query of all. When had it all gone so wrong?

Six months ago he was a man with a plan. A career he loved. A fiancée he was planning on spending the rest of his life with. And a series of cases that gave him purpose each and every day.

And now he was a glorified babysitter, living with the memories of a child who was still missing, a perp wounded by Derek’s own hand and a leave of absence while the FBI investigated it all.

Did he have secrets? Bile choked his throat at the raw truth of that question.

He had a boatload of secrets, and every damn one of them was eating him alive.

“Stay with me, Ace.” Landry’s sultry voice whispered in his ear moments before her hand came to rest on his forearm. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

“I haven’t gone anywhere.”

She cocked her head, the motion almost comical if it weren’t for the well of compassion she couldn’t fully hide beneath her gentle blue gaze. “You keep telling yourself that.”

She turned away before he could respond, and then there was no need when the governor stood before them, his crisp black suit as perfect as his smile.

“Governor Nichols. So lovely to see you again. I so enjoyed catching up at Congresswoman Meyers’s home last November.”

“As did I, Landry.”

Landry made quick introductions and Derek sensed the question that hovered in the air among all three of them.

Who was this man with one of California’s favorite daughters?

Was he good enough?

Would he ever be?

“Derek’s a friend of my aunt Kate. She’s raved about him for years and simply insisted we had to meet.”

The governor’s handshake was firm and his eye contact direct as he nodded through Landry’s introduction. “Kate always gets what she wants.”

Landry’s arm wrapped around Derek’s the moment he was done shaking hands and she squeezed. Hard. “Don’t I know it.”

Derek took that as his cue, smiling at Landry before turning toward Nichols. “And clearly I’m the lucky beneficiary. A beautiful, dynamic woman on my arm and the endorsement of another dynamic beauty.”

“And what do you do, Mr. Winchester?” Nichols’s smile was broad, but Derek didn’t miss the continued curiosity underneath the polite veneer.

“A little of this, a little of that.”

“Derek’s got the especially lucky opportunity to travel where his whims take him. Give of his time where he sees fit. And support the causes that are near and dear to him.”

Landry’s quick description of a wealthy, aimless playboy had the governor’s eyes dulling, and Derek chafed at the description.

Sure, he was here on an op, nothing more. But it still stung.

He worked damn hard, for every single thing in his life. None of it had come easy, nor had it come without a price. Long hours. Endless days spent briefing and debriefing, planning and then executing to a precise schedule.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries—and Landry’s confirmation of when the organization could expect a check from the governor’s office as promised. Only when Nichols walked away did Derek feel Landry relax by his side, her grip loosening, even though she didn’t fully pull away.

“Nice job, Slick. Even if you were gritting your teeth through my flowery description of your globe-trotting adventures.”

“I have a name, you know.”

She dropped his arm, but the husky register of her voice made him feel as if they still touched. Intimately.

“Yes, but then how can I objectify you in my mind? If I use your name, I’ll be forced to see you as a person.”

He marveled at her words and their distillation of something career abusers inherently understood. Objectify the victim. See them as something separate. Apart. If you don’t humanize them, then there’s no guilt over your choices—as with Rena and her captor.

“That’s awfully deep. And here I thought you had a business degree.”

“With a minor in psychology.” She patted his arm before reaching for the slim purse she’d laid on their table.

“I’d say you understand more than a few courses’ worth.”

Those husky notes gave way to a lighter, airier tone. “Ah, yes. The glorious education one receives as an Adair. We can’t forget that.”

Derek followed her back the way they came, down a long corridor and then through the main lobby. “Sounds lonely.”

“At times. Until you hit a point when you don’t care any longer.” The breezy socialite was back as she handed her valet ticket to the attendant.

Derek marveled at her quick and ready costume changes—the cool, refined temptress from the pool to the excited ingenue on their drive over to the responsible socialite with the governor.

Each one was undoubtedly a facet of her personality, but which one was dominant? Which one was the real Landry Adair?

And when had he begun to crave the answer?

* * *

Landry offered up a small “come in” at the knock on her bedroom door. She shoved the Roosevelt biography under her covers and opened the tabloid just as her brother Carson walked in.

She glanced up from a spread on upcoming summer movies and closed the issue, tossing it beside the bed before Carson could see she had it upside down. “Hey there, big brother.”

“Hey, yourself.”

Carson limped into the room, the bullet wound that had ended his career in the Marines a permanent presence in his life. Thankfully, so was his new fiancée, Georgia.

She’d worried for him when he first came home, ghosts dwelling in the blue eyes that were a match for her own. But in the past month he’d turned the corner. Their father’s death weighed heavily on all of them, but the fact that he’d found something strong and true with Georgia Mason had changed him.

And when you added how they found each other, Carson’s journey back to full emotional health was especially amazing.

“I heard you were out and about today.”

“When am I not?” She shifted on her bed, making room for Carson’s well-muscled form. He might move a bit more slowly than in the past, but he was far from soft. In fact, in some ways, his new physical limitations had only pushed him harder to keep his body in top condition.

“Let me rephrase my point. I heard you were out and about today with Derek Winchester.”

“Ah. You mean the babysitter.”

Landry let the words dangle there, curious to see Carson’s reaction. “The man’s damn good at what he does.”

“It still doesn’t mean I need to be watched over.”

“Come on. We discussed this and you said you were okay with it.”

They had. And she was.

Until a long, lean warrior arrived at the edge of her pool at eight o’clock this morning. The man messed up her routine and her order. He made her curious. About him. About what had brought him to their door. About what it might be like to kiss him.

And to ignore the fact that their relationship was a fake and pretend for a few glorious moments it was 100 percent real.

Shrugging it off, she tossed a jaunty smile toward her brother. “A girl has a right to change her mind.”

“Then if it’s that easy, change it back.”

“Why have we let an outsider in?”

“So he can see the things we can’t. We’re too close to it all. We’ve got absolutely zero perspective, and that makes us vulnerable.”

“I’m not too close to anything.”

“Oh, no?” Carson stretched out and folded his hands behind his head like a pillow. “You can honestly sit here and tell me you aren’t shocked as hell that we might have a brother somewhere?”

“No.”
Yes.
She averted her eyes rather than admit the truth to Carson with his all-knowing gaze.

“And you’re equally
not
shocked that someone shot and killed our father in cold blood.”

“Oh, come on, that’s below the belt, Cars.”

“No. It’s honest.” Carson shifted, rolling onto his side. “You know as well as I do this is not only a shock, but it’s happening from the inside.”

Much as she wanted to argue, Landry knew he was right. The events of the past few months had sent an earthquake through their family. While much of it was a blur at times, she couldn’t deny her brother’s words.

Underneath it all, everything felt personal. And way, way too close.

First her father’s death, shot in his office at point-blank range. Then the discovery during the reading of his will of a kidnapped child from his first marriage. Even their mother’s race to Europe smacked of personal knowledge.

Carson’s voice dropped. “And you know we can’t discard the questions about Noah.”

Despite the large rooms and relative isolation each of them had in the various wings of the house, on some level Landry understood Carson’s need to whisper.

Their cousin, Noah, had been a part of their lives forever. He was just...
there
. A part of their family. A part of them. Now they all had doubts and reservations since Carson’s fiancée, Georgia, asked the one question none of them had ever known to ask.

Was it possible their cousin, Noah Scott, was really their father’s missing son, Jackson Adair?

Georgia had seen an old photo years before of her stepmother’s father. The old photo depicted a young man, handsome and full of life.

And a shocking genetic mirror of Noah.

Ruby, her stepmother, had lost her baby son, then subsequently her husband. Did they dare get her hopes up that Jackson might have been nearby all these years?

“Please tell me you understand why we need Derek?”

“Of course I do.”

“Is that a ‘Carson, I understand and will cooperate as you’ve asked’ sort of yes?”

She shoved at his shoulder, the motion doing little to move him. “Yes, it is.”

“Good. I’ve already briefed him. You can give him proper cover in the morning when he begins his investigation.”

The words were on the tip of her tongue to argue and let him know she and Derek were going into this as equal partners, investigating
together
, but she held back. She knew Derek hadn’t been all that pleased with her request, and she knew damn well her brother wouldn’t be, either.

So she held her tongue and smiled. “Of course I will.”

Carson lifted up on an elbow to give her a quick kiss on the cheek before rolling toward the edge of the bed. Despite his injury, he moved off the mattress and got to his feet in one swift motion.

“And Landry?”

“Yes.”

His hand snaked out before she realized its destination and dragged the thick hardcover out from where she’d hidden it. “Go easy on him. He’s one of the good guys.”

Carson dropped the hardcover on top of the blankets where it bounced with a hard
thud
, his grin broad and cocky as his hands went to his hips.

That smile brought back memories of their youth, roaming Adair Acres and playing through the endless groves of citrus trees. He’d often fancied himself Peter Pan, his hands perched at his waist as he issued orders for how to fight pirates or manage their skyward flight to Neverland.

There had been a time when Landry thought she’d never see that smile again. And now that it was back, she could only be grateful.

She might not like her immediate circumstances.

But she was glad to have her brother back.

* * *

Derek kept his gaze on the pool from his guest-room window, Landry’s morning swim as captivating from a distance as it had been up close and personal the day before.

He hadn’t intended to be a pervert—and as a lawman who spent his life in pursuit of those who lived up to the moniker, he knew he wasn’t—but for the life of him he couldn’t turn away from the window.

She was magnificent. Her long body was a vision, the product of discipline and obvious hard work. But it was her mind and the emotions that lurked behind her expressive blue eyes that had him even more fascinated.

He’d replayed the day before over and over, tossing into the early hours of the morning as images of Landry Adair had floated through his sleep-deprived brain.

And for the first time in months, he’d had company through the long night with a memory that didn’t end in blood.

With one final glance out the window, Derek pulled himself together and headed for the stables. He knew he’d made a promise to Landry—they’d handle the investigation as partners—but if the suspicions about her cousin were right, her presence would only hinder the investigation.

He slid his wallet in his back pocket, his fingers bereft when a badge didn’t follow, and fought the daily swell of battered pride and bruised ego.

He was a federal agent. He knew how to do his job, and he was good at it.

Damn good.

He navigated the large house, the back stairwell into the kitchen the closest to his bedroom. The scent of coffee and fresh muffins assailed him as he hit the bottom step, and he caught a shy smile from the head cook as he stepped into the kitchen.

“Good morning, Mr. Winchester.”

“Derek, please, Kathleen. How are you this morning?”

The woman blushed, her obvious surprise that he’d remembered her name highlighting her already-rosy cheeks with a warm blush. “Fine. Fine. I hope you slept well.”

“Excellent.” The lie tripped off his tongue, and he felt no remorse. To tell the truth would only mar the moment.

“Can I fix you a plate?”

“I’d love to, but I actually wanted to get down to the stables for an early ride. Might I swing a to-go mug of coffee from you?”

The woman blushed once more before quickly busying herself with his request. He used the moment to watch the comings and goings in the large, bustling kitchen. Two additional cooks managed at stations along the wall while a series of maids streamed in and out in the few moments he stood there.

An overall impression of efficiency and expertise pervaded the room, and he marveled at the fact that the home ran without the obvious oversight of the lady of the manor.

Interesting.