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"Fine," I say. "But no more interrogations tonight. I'm off duty."

His eyebrow lifts. "Off duty?"

Shit.Poor choice of words.

"Figure of speech," I recover quickly. "It's been a long night of socializing."

"No interrogations," he agrees. But not even twenty seconds after the elevator closes, he starts talking. "I care deeply about my brother and about Catherine. Which is why your sudden appearance in their lives interests me."

"There's nothing interesting about old friends reconnecting," I say, sticking to my story.

He glances at me, his gaze heavy with meaning. "We both know that's not what's happening here."

The rest of the short elevator ride passes with charged silence. He puts his hand on the small of my back and guides me out and down the plush carpeted hallway. I nod at my room number and we stop right outside the door.

"Whatever you're doing," he says, his voice low, "whatever game you're playing, I'll figure it out."

"There's no game, Matt." I reach for the door handle, eager to escape the intensity of his presence.

His hand lands on my arm, gentle but firm. "One more thing."

I turn back, my breath catching as I realize how close our faces are. "What?"

"If you hurt them," he says softly, "if this whole charade is some kind of scam, there is nowhere you can run that I won't find you. Understood?"

The threat should anger me. Should offend me. Instead, I feel a thrilling shiver race down my spine.

"Crystal clear," I whisper.

His eyes drop to my mouth again, lingering longer this time. For one breathless moment, I think he might actually kiss me.

Instead, he releases my arm and steps back. "Goodnight, Jackie Lawrence. If that's even your real name."

I slip into the hotel room, shut the door and lean back against it, letting out a long, deep breath.

What the hell am I doing?

Matt Dayton is suspicious, perceptive, and determined to expose me. He's the last person I should be attracted to.

And yet here I am, heart racing, skin buzzing, remembering the heat in his eyes when he looked at my lips.

Get it together, Jackie.It's just a job. Three more days, then you never have to see him again.

The thought should be comforting.

It isn't.

CHAPTER 3

Surviving the morning yoga session is easy enough. I'm naturally flexible and Catherine's college friends are too hungover to notice that I don't know the "traditional post-vinyasa chant" they apparently did in their college days. Brunch passes in a blur of mimosas and wedding talk, with no sign of Matthew Dayton to complicate matters.

By the time I return to my hotel room to change for the welcome party, I've almost convinced myself that last night's electric tension was just champagne and wedding jitters. A professional hazard, nothing more.

Then my phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.

Unknown Caller: Wear something blue tonight. It suits you.

I stare at the screen, my heart doing a little tap dance against my ribs. There's only one person it could be.