Secret Agent Boyfriend. Addison Fox

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      “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.”

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