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“Did you get what you needed?” Jonas asked in his usual cool, unbothered way. As if the petty concerns of mere mortals were beneath him.

Maybe someday she would understand why she found that so compelling.

Maybe someday she wouldn’t look to him for all the things the two of them would never be.

But none of that mattered. Not tonight.

“As expected, my mother has a spreadsheet,” she said instead, briskly. Professionally. “How much do you want tobet our favorite CEO likes to keep tabs on people’s bedrooms?”

Jonas’s eyes gleamed. “Seems as good a place to start as any.”

If she was interpreting laconic Jonas-speak correctly, that meant he was thrilled.

They made their way back into the main part of the house, skirting what sounded like security doing a sweep— or Charlotte the housekeeper, Bethan thought, wandering around and sticking her nose in.

There were two likely culprits staying in the house, according to her mother’s notes in elegant handwriting that Bethan could have identified from a mile off. Lewis Stapleton was here with his full-on Texas wife and his staff, up in one of the expansive guest suites on the second floor of the main house. Dominic Carter and two of his aides had been accorded similar accommodations on the opposite side of the same floor.

But since Dominic Carter was the newest arrival, and they hadn’t been surveilled by Lewis Stapleton or anyone else before now, they decided to start with him.

“The Carter party is in the Bougainvillea Suite,” she told Jonas.

He grunted. “You grew up in a hotel suite?”

“Certainly not.” Bethan stopped before she led him up the side stairs. Not the staff stairs, but the family stairs. The sweeping grand staircase was far too dramatic for daily use. “Most of the suites are part of the renovation. I think my childhood bedroom still exists, but I also think it’s been repurposed. As the sitting room, or possibly staff quarters.”

Jonas studied her in that way that always made her fight off a shiver. “The way you say that makes me think you’re not a fan.”

Bethan knew that he’d been faking it for the cameras this last time, but that didn’t change the fact that his mouth had been on her. All over her. She knew what that felt likenow. She knew where it could lead when there were no cameras involved. And she thought she was holding herself together pretty well, all things considered. After all these years and everything that had happened between them, to find out that she’d been right all along about what was beneath that dark gaze of his was... spectacular.

But she remembered herself. And more to the point, she remembered that he’d decided to act like all he’d done was scratch an itch.

“I left here and never meant to return,” she told him, pleased with how calm she sounded. “I don’t really care what they did with the room, if that’s what you’re asking.”

His gaze moved over her. “Seems like you had a lot of rooms to choose from.”

Bethan rolled her eyes. “Do you expect me to apologize for the house my parents bought when I was a teenager and renovated when I was gone?”

“I don’t expect you to do anything.”

“Of course not. Because then you might have to admit that you actually have a feeling about something. And obviously, the whole world would immediately explode.”

All they had to do was go up a flight of stairs. Dominic Carter was staying in the suite directly above them. They could do what they’d come here to do—create the necessary diversion, sweep the rooms, and cut the feed if this was where it originated. If the feed wasn’t coming from his rooms, they could check the rest of the guest suites and then fan out to the cottages. A whole night of tasks to complete— possibly while all the suites and rooms were occupied. It was right up their alley.

But neither one of them moved.

Jonas’s eyebrows rose on that stark, stunning face of his, all those sharp brown planes and the impossible sensuality of his mouth. That she’d now tasted.

She couldn’t say she had regrets. But she couldn’t seem to get past it, either.

“Is this about what happened earlier?” His voice was cold. “While we’re in the middle of an operation?”

Bethan didn’t think. She surged forward so she could get her face as close to his as possible, without actually poking him in the chest like a cartoon villain.

Though she thought about it.

“Don’t you dare patronize me,” she clipped at him. “I get that it’s convenient for you to pretend that you’re somehow above all this. But the only real difference between yesterday and today in terms of operational functionality is that we’re being honest about this situation. You’ve been treating me differently from the rest of the team as long as you’ve known me. And yes, I’m including way back when. It has nothing to do with men and women in combat roles, and it never has.”

She pulled in a breath, not expecting to see anything on his face. Not expecting anything at all. “It has to do with you, Jonas. And me. That’s always been a thing. It always will be. And it’s certainly not going to change now, while the operation in question is in my parents’ house.”