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?”
Secrets.
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