unlikely anyone would. She had nothing in common with actors and models and photographers. She was probably the only woman on the roof who wasn’t regularly featured in the gossip columns. She couldn’t be in the gossip columns; her life depended on it. If someone saw her picture and recognized her as anyone other than Kit Walker, she was screwed.
Kit swirled the lemon-lime cola in her wineglass. She would have drunk it straight from the can, but the bartender had given her such a look when she requested it, she decided she would use a glass.
A light breeze blew, and Kit shivered. Was being cold an excuse to leave? It was July in Southern California and no one else seemed uncomfortable, but Kit wasn’t accustomed to being half-naked. Her legs were bare. Her arms were bare. Her shoulders were bare. How did people relax when they were dressed like this?
Goose bumps formed on her arms, and she turned, sensing someone watching her. She pasted on a smile in case it was her sister. Kit could pretend she was enjoying people-watching. Watching beautiful people seducing and flattering each other was an activity that didn’t involve her phone. After the party was over, these beautiful people would go home with companions as attractive as they were.
Kit would go home alone, water her plants and go to bed. That was okay. She didn’t want someone coming home with her.
She didn’t see her sister, but a man was watching Kit drink her soda. A good-looking man. Was he trying to place her? Wondering why she was at this party? He had the smoldering, sexy look down pat. He must be a model or an actor. His hair was longer, reaching to the tops of his ears, and he was dressed in a black T-shirt, dark blue jeans and boots. Though his expression was serious, he almost seemed amused. Her defenses heightened. She wasn’t in the mood to be teased. She’d heard every joke in the world about being the ugly sister to supermodel Marissa.
She was aware she wasn’t as gorgeous as her sister. Since she had been a baby, she’d been compared to her sister, and Kit did not rank on any magazine’s list as hot or tempting. At some point, looks wouldn’t matter as much, and someone would recognize her genius. But in this space and at this time, looks mattered; brains didn’t. Maybe when she and Marissa were in their sixties, someone would finally stop snapping pictures of Marissa long enough to realize that Kit was smart.
Kit didn’t blame her sister. Marissa was a good person with a warm heart, but the media cared only how she looked, what she wore and where she partied. Kit and her sister were both underestimated.
The man started toward her. Kit slid off the stool. She checked that her dress was pulled down in the back and tried to flee. It was juvenile, but she didn’t want to have an actual conversation with a handsome man or fend off a joke about her.
Kit didn’t get far. With her ridiculous borrowed shoes, she had to walk like a clopping horse. The roof was too jam-packed, and unlike her sister, who strode through a room and parted the crowd, Kit had no such effect on the people around her.
The man reached her and smiled. The smile shifted his looks from handsome to drop-dead gorgeous. Her knees locked and her breasts tightened and she cursed her body’s complete overreaction. Maybe this was how men felt when they looked at her sister. If so, she understood their obsession with Marissa a bit more. Standing in front of this man, it was hard to look away.
“You’re Kit Walker, right?” he asked.
Kit blinked at him and then looked behind her. He’d said her name, but was he actually looking for her? She could think of only one reason why he would. “If you are trying to meet my sister through me, Marissa doesn’t make a mockery of me by allowing men to use me to get to her.” It had happened at least five times in the past. It was humiliating for Kit, having a man pretend to like her only to flat-out ignore her once he was in Marissa’s presence. Marissa hated it. Kit wasn’t a fan, either.
“I have no interest in your sister,” the man said. His voice was deep and slightly gravelly. Like the voice of a man who was used to being in charge and in control. Maybe an actor, then. Or a director.
“You’d be the first and only man on the planet.” She laughed so she didn’t sound completely bitter, but it wasn’t funny. It was true and painful. When she was younger, she used to imagine a man would come into their lives and see something in her that made her more attractive than Marissa.
“Is there a place we could speak in private?” he asked.
“I don’t sneak off to closets with strangers,” she said.
He frowned, and she mourned the loss of his amazing smile. His eyes were flat and serious. “I have no plans to put you in a closet. I do have something important to speak with you about. It’s a sensitive matter. I am familiar with your work.”
Her stomach dropped. His voice gave away he wasn’t referring to her job at the florist. It had been four years since she had worked as a computer scientist, and she had put the past behind her. Though she sometimes woke in the night in a cold sweat, nightmares about her previous work hounding her, Kit had built a safe life for herself.
Kit held up her hands and backed away. “Stay away from me.” How had anyone found her? She had been exceedingly careful.
She turned to flee and he grabbed her wrist, preventing her escape. The party went on around her as if no one was aware of what was happening to her. Being socially invisible might get her killed. “If you don’t let me go, I will scream. My sister has a security team here. They will...tackle you.” Kit had seen her sister’s bodyguards grapple with or hit men who lunged at her sister either trying to cop a feel or take a picture up her dress. It was comical how easily her bodyguards kept pests away.
But this man was more than a pervert with a mission. This man was a threat. He wouldn’t be flicked to the side.
He released her. “Shade sent me.”
The words came on a whisper, carrying a heavy message. Shade, a name from her past, ancient history. Shade was known for being ridiculously principled and scrupulously ethical. Shade was a topnotch hacker and a class act. “Is she in trouble?” Kit’s question confirmed she knew Shade. But if he knew about Shade, he knew too much already. Theirs was a small and discreet community.
“She’s safe, but she sent me because she is worried about you. Problems are coming your way.”
Kit wasn’t interested in a cloak-and-dagger routine. “I don’t do that type of work anymore. I work for a florist. If Shade was worried about me, she would have sent me a message directly.” Online. Over the phone. Sending a messenger did not seem like Shade’s style.
“You’ve been hard to find.”
Her pride flooded through her. At least she hadn’t made it painfully easy for her enemies to locate her. Shade was a friend, but to keep herself safe, she’d had to hide from everyone, and that had meant creating a new online identity. “Yet here you are,” Kit said, wondering how he had located her. If he had found her, then her enemies could, as well.
“I went through a lot of trouble to locate you. Thousands in bribes, hours on stakeouts and hacking the United States’ civilian records,” he said.
The records the government kept to allow them to track almost anyone. Library cards, credit card bills and facial recognition from streaming video feeds made hiding next to impossible. Kit had believed knowing how the government could track her meant she could be untraceable. She had been mistaken.
“Coming for you in person allows us to protect you.”
“Us?” She looked around. She could spot a military man from fifty paces. This man had the look of someone with service experience, but no one else jumped out at her.
“I work with a team, but I am here alone.”
“You work for Shade?” she asked.
“With her,” he said.
He didn’t like to be submissive. Definitely military. “I’m fine here. My family is close, and if you haven’t noticed, my sister hired a dozen security guards for this