Part 3 (1/2)

”No secrets, remember?” It was our promise to each other when we started the firm. It's how I know that Jason still does covert work and Tag has a sometimes on-again, mostly off-again affair with his ex-wife. Wilson...well, the no-secrets rule has weird asterisks when it comes to our resident spook. But he tells us what he can, and Jason vouches for the rest.

”Fine. What do you want to know?”

”Why her?”

I can't help myself. And that's the problem. That's always the problem with relations.h.i.+ps. They're a distraction. They make men weak.

”Fine, don't answer that. Is it out of your system?”

Memories from that first night we were called to the Reid estate slide forward in my mind, offering themselves up as if I need a reminder that Hailey's been under my skin for six long months. I don't. ”Leave it alone.”

”She's not your type.”

I clench my fists, and shove them in my pockets so I don't punch him again. Jason's known me for eleven years. I know he's not talking about her curves, because in that respect, she's definitely my type.

He's talking about her heart. And he's right.

”You'll break her.”

”I know. I'm not going to kiss her again.” But that's not good enough, just saying it. I have to push her away, and I know exactly how to do it. ”Really. I'll take care of it.” By being a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. ”Tell me about the plan of attack for Taylor.”

Reluctantly, Jason lets me change the subject. He outlines the interview with People magazine-”the fewer words the better”-and the lawyers are already on retainer. Unless the Vice President was completely honest about the affair, it'll be likely that the House of Representatives would find a way to impeach him.

Taylor Reid, Was.h.i.+ngton party girl, might bring down the man who thought he was eighteen months away from being the next President.

It was a good thing the Reids didn't have any political aspirations, because they'd just destroyed their own political party with what would surely be a protracted scandal.

”Please tell me we have a plan to find other women he's slept with.”

”Wilson's got his interns on it.” Three computer nerds at Georgetown who'd latched on to our friend after he'd spoken to their cla.s.s. Whatever turned their crank.

”Not a bad day's work before lunch, then.” I vaguely point at my desk, only now remembering I dropped my coffee. I swear under my breath and Jason laughs at me. ”I'm not sorry I punched you.”

He sobers up fast. I've said too much, because I'm restless and frustrated, but that's the thing about the brothers you choose. They forgive a lot, and they understand you better than you understand yourself. Thank Christ for that. ”You can't start something with her, Cole. There's no way that ends well. I'll take a few more hits if that's what it takes for you to remember who you are.”

”One step up from a hired gun.” I can't keep the resentment out of my voice.

”We're fighting the good fight.”

I shake my head. I'm not sure there's any good left in this world, except for in the beautiful delusions of the innocent. Like Hailey.

And that's why I need to break her heart now. Not because of what I am, but what I believe-and what I can't because I've seen too much.

Done too much.

Hurt too many.

Been hurt. I shove that thought away even as I recognize that's probably more true than all the other s.h.i.+t. Hailey's the kind to care with a capital C. That the thought makes my hands tremble and my stomach turn is even more reason to slice the ribbons of want between us before she gets any crazy ideas.

-five-.

Hailey.

The last few days have spun past in a blur. Taylor's been on TV a lot, but the press has lost interest in me. I even went to work yesterday, and spent earlier today at the spa with my baby sister Alison.

We didn't call Taylor.

Alison wanted to. I gave her my best stink eye and she changed the subject.

Now I'm on a date, although Trevor Waters, junior advisor for the junior senator from Texas, has spent more time in the lobby on the phone than next to me in our seats at the Kennedy Center.

I know I'm privileged to be here, that this isn't a once in a lifetime experience for me. But I can't help long for more. Something hot and intense, but a little less f.u.c.ked up than whatever I'd flirted at with Cole.

This is a date set up by my well-meaning but not-really-thinking friend Becky. Just because Trevor and I both like opera doesn't make this a good idea. For one thing, it could only be a good idea if both of us were actually present on the date.

A date I'd gone all out for, even though my heart wasn't in it. Black velvet halter dress, tight through the waist, thanks to the best corset money can buy. My b.o.o.bs look great, not that Trevor would notice.

I sigh to myself. The truth is that he's missing in body. I'm checked out mentally. That's not better. I don't even care if he's into me, because even though he's attractive enough-tall, slim, nice haircut, good teeth-he's just not my type.

It's a sad state when my only nerves about going on a date are whether or not the press will hound me with annoying questions, and not whether or not there's going to be kissing at the end of the night.

I applaud with the rest of the attendees as the lights go up for intermission, then head out to the terrace in search of my absentee date. Or alcohol. I'll take whichever I find first.

It's cold outside, and I don't see Trevor anywhere. I head inside, hoping he can find me at the bar, when my skin p.r.i.c.kles with awareness. I sense Cole a moment before he speaks, and it bugs me how I suddenly don't feel alone. Annoyed. Alive and raging, sure. But no longer lonely. It's an awful trick my mind is playing on me, because if there's anyone who will abandon me, guaranteed, it's the man behind me.

”You've got your socialite rags on, Hailey.”

I whirl around, telling myself it's to lay into him. How dare he slide that silky voice all over me like we're intimate. But when I collide with his gaze, I'm the one left doubting...because he sure looks at me like, at least on some level, we already are. My lips certainly remember something that felt like a h.e.l.l of a lot more than an accidental collision of mouths. My ears remember his filthy words lighting me up from the inside out.

He wants me. Why, I can't quite understand. How, when we don't even like each other, we can be ten feet apart and it already feels like we're halfway through foreplay...I don't understand.

I don't like not understanding. I don't like anything about this, especially the part where it ends. I like the absence of our vicious dance even less than the mess of it. How screwed up is that?

I square my shoulders and let my inner b.i.t.c.h take over my voice. ”What are you doing here?”

He raises his eyebrows in vague disbelief. Well, okay. So he's wearing a tux. Clearly, he's here for the opera just like me. ”I need to play this game for clients. Network. That kind of bulls.h.i.+t. You've opted out of this life, so the bigger question is, what are you doing here?”

I bristle, because what the h.e.l.l does he know about the choices I've made? ”I'm on a date. Wait. I told you I was coming here.”

I didn't think it was possible for his liquid gold eyes to burn cold, but I was wrong. Cole hates that I'm on a date, and the thought gives me an illicit thrill. Good. He needs to know that not everyone jumps at his command. Not everyone is within his realm to control.

He steps closer. ”Pretty romantic first date, the Kennedy Center.”

”Who said it was a first date?”

”Since your date isn't at your f.u.c.king side, making you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, I should hope it's not a repeat.”