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Kayla staredat the three women surrounding her. They were more dear to her than anything in this world. Which was why she couldn’t believe they were asking her to prostitute herself.

Having no alcohol of her own, she snatched her mother’s mojito and took a sizable gulp. Partly because she craved the resulting numbing sensation and partly to give herself time to process what was happening.

A long time ago, she’d made a promise to herself that she would push the proverbial envelope up to the line. One side, the side she operated on, allowed her to sleep at night with a clear conscience. The other side, the side that took a piece of one’s soul each time one crossed over, promised sleepless nights, hours of self-recrimination, and the kind of guilt one carried to the grave.

Until recently, Kayla had kept her feet firmly on terra pleasant dreams. But thanks to an ill-thought-out decision, she was already wrestling with one demon. She would not add another.

In the end, she could only come up with one thing to say. “You can’t be asking of me what I think you are.”

Sybil and Elsie shared a glance. Jillian sat stone-faced, twirling the base of her now near-empty cocktail. Dark shadows still haunted her eyes and her skin seemed thinner, almost translucent, and she’d barely touched her lunch.

Elsie cleared her throat. “All we’re asking is that you gather as much intelligence as you can.”

“It’s imperative that we stay abreast of his investigation,” Sybil said. “If the authorities dig deep enough, there’s an unacceptable risk of exposure.”

The muscles in Kayla’s chest constricted to the point she feared her blood would stop pumping. “Even if I were willing, which I’m not, the gentleman in question can barely tolerate my presence.”

Sybil laughed. “You’re out of practice, my dear. The sexual energy pulsing off that man when he looked at you last night was far from disinterest.”

“And he’s protective of you,” Elsie added. “I thought he was going to tear into that detective a few times.”

Kayla tried to read Ash’s body language the same way they had, but all she could see was a man who wanted something from her. And it wasn’t keep-you-up-all-night hot sex.

More’s the pity.

“Mama?” Kayla prompted, not understanding her parent’s unnatural silence.

“I think”—Jillian’s eyes met Kayla’s—“that we need timely information about the investigation.”

“Are you kidding?—?”

“But,” Jillian interrupted, and she cast a hard lioness look at the other two women, “on your terms.”

Sybil smoothed the napkin on her lap. “Naturally, that’s the desirable course.” She hooked her cobalt gaze on Kayla’s. “However, we’ve all had to make sacrifices for our cause. Some far more devastating than sleeping with a handsome man.”

Kayla had thought she’d known what betrayal felt like. She’d been struck by it from so many different directions. Legislators who told her one thing and did another. Lovers who left her for more attentive models. Friends who broke confidences.

Yet none of those former disappointments in humanity had shattered the hard, protective casing around her heart.

Until now.

Snapping on her lobbyist mask, the one that revealed nothing but conveyed everything, she said, “I wonder what Aunt Vicky would think about this assignment?”

“If Victoria were still h-here,” Sybil said, her voice catching, “she would be the one broaching this awkward but necessary topic with you, instead of me.”

Kayla stood. “I have given and will continue to give much for our cause, but I hold ownership over my body.” She jammed a thumb into her chest. “Me.” She looked each woman in the eye. “I will get the information we need. But not with this,” she tapped a finger against her chest, “with this.” She pointed to her temple.

Elsie’s small hand encircled Kayla’s wrist. “Please sit down. We have much more to discuss.”

Kayla rotated her wrist to break the fashion designer’s contact. “Another time.”

It was all the response her emotion-thick throat could manage.