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"God, no. Greg barely told him anything. They talk maybe twice a month these days." She sighs. "Matt's been weird since he left the Marines. Always on the move, never settling down. This is the first time he's been back in Charlotte in over a year."

Great. A perceptive, suspicious loner with military training and brotherly concerns. Exactly what my deception needs.

"Don't worry," I assure her, projecting confidence I don't entirely feel. "I've handled protective families before. I'll win him over with my charm and encyclopedic knowledge of your friendship history."

Catherine squeezes my hand. "You're amazing. Seriously."

By the time we head down to the rehearsal dinner, I've mentally prepared for every possible question about Catherine's life, preferences, and our supposed friendship. I've practiced my, "Oh, Matt! I've heard so much about you!" with various inflections. I've even rehearsed a few deflection techniques if the conversation gets too specific.

What I haven't prepared for is the reality of Matthew Dayton.

The Azalea Ballroom is already half-full when we arrive, guests in cocktail attire mingling over champagne as waiters circulate with trays of appetizers. Relatives immediately swarmed Catherine, leaving me momentarily alone at the entrance, surveying the room. I match faces with the dossier I’d been studying for the last two weeks.

That's when I seehim.

He stands by the windows, slightly apart from the other guests, radiating the kind of quiet intensity that makes the space around him seem charged. Six feet of lean muscle in a charcoal suit that fits him perfectly. Close-cropped dark hair, strong jaw dusted with slight stubble, and eyes that scan the room with military precision. The faint scar above his left eyebrow only adds to the rugged appeal.

My breath catches.

This is not how protective older brothers are supposed to look. They're supposed to be balding accountants with bad ties, or pudgy lawyers with condescending smiles. Not... this. Not a man who looks like he walked straight out of the pages of one of our Naughty Girls novels. He looks dangerous… in all the right ways.

As if sensing my gaze, his eyes find mine across the room. Dark, intense, assessing. For a moment, we just look at each other, and something electric passes between us that makes my skin prickle with awareness.

Danger,my professional instincts scream.Abort mission.

Too late.

Catherine reappears at my side, following my gaze. "Oh, that's Matt," she says, waving him over. "Come meet him!"

Matt Dayton moves through the crowd with the fluid confidence of a predator, eyes never leaving my face. As he approaches, I plaster on my most genuine-looking smile and try to ignore the flutter in my stomach.

"Matt!" Catherine greets him with a hug that he returns somewhat stiffly. "This is Jackie Lawrence, my maid of honor and best friend since forever. Jackie, this is Greg's brother, Matt."

Close up, he's even more devastating. Those dark eyes miss nothing, taking me in with a thoroughness that feels almost physical. His handshake is firm, warm, his palm slightly callused against mine.

"The famous Jackie," he says, his voice a low rumble that does unfair things to my insides. "Funny, Greg's never mentioned you before."

And there it is. The first test, delivered with a subtle challenge in his tone that makes it clear he's not buying our story for a second.

"Well, I've heard plenty about you," I counter smoothly, holding his gaze. "Catherine and Greg's personal storm chaser. Though you've been a bit... absent, from what I understand."

A flash of something—annoyance? respect?—crosses his features. The corner of his mouth quirks up in what might be the beginning of a smile.

"I go where the weather takes me," he says simply.

"How convenient," I reply before I can stop myself.

Catherine laughs nervously beside me. "Jackie's being modest. She's always traveling for work, too. Event planning," she adds quickly, sticking to our cover story. "Very in-demand."

Matt's eyes narrow slightly. "Is that right? What kind of events?"

"All kinds," I say vaguely. "Corporate, social, whatever pays the bills."

"Jackie's amazing," Catherine jumps in. "She organized that charity gala for the children's hospital last year. Remember I told you about it?"

Matt's expression makes it clear he remembers no such conversation, but he nods politely. "Impressive."

"It's just problem-solving with prettier decorations," I say with a shrug. "Nothing like chasing hurricanes."