---

 

Isabelle awakened with start. She’d been dreaming about sex. Her face was flushed and her body humming. This had been happening a lot lately. Taking a deep breath of the cool air coming through the French doors off her and Michael’s bedroom, she lay back on the pillows, listening to the soft lap of water out on the lake, staring up at the ceiling fan she’d put in herself. She’d gotten skilled at home improvements after her husband died.

Mary Ellen, her business partner and best friend, who’d been a godsend after losing Michael, had a lot to say about the dreams Isabelle was having and the self-sufficiency around the house she’d developed.

You ’ve systematically removed every need for a man in your life. You ’re a beautiful woman, especially if you ’d gain some weight back. You need a guy.

Isabelle’s response was always the same. I had a guy.

Yet, at night or in the early morning, Isabelle admitted to herself that she was lonely. For a man. For sex. Maybe after this whole thing was over, she’d consider dating.

That she was in danger again was unbelievable. She’d truly believed the first time was a fluke and the second attempt an oddity. Frustrated in more ways than one, she climbed out of bed, threw a long shirt of Michael’s over her tank top and short pajama bottoms and, while she brushed her teeth, wondered what today would hold. She liked routines, structured blocks of time. She and Michael had lived that way. And now her whole world was turned upside down. God, she wanted her husband back, her life back the way it had been!

Finished in the bathroom, she checked on the boys, who insisted they sleep in the same room, so Isabelle bought them bunk beds, then she headed downstairs. The sun was coming up, but there was no getting back to sleep. She’d set the coffee to drip and wandered into the family room to the wall of windows.

That’s when she saw him.

A man stood on the long dock stretching out into the lake. Her heart began to gallop in her chest. Dear Lord, were the people after her this brazen? The doors were all locked, the alarm on, but what should she do?

Duh! She remembered who was sleeping in the apartment. Racing to the front of the house, she pounded down the stairs, which opened to a living area. There was no door at the entrance, but the bedroom had one. Without knocking, she thrust it open.

A quick glimpse of a tanned back, a sheet slipping low on bare hips didn’t stop her. She flew to the bed. “Agent Mar—”

His hand clamped around her forearm hard. She was thrown, literally, flat on her back on the mattress. He braced himself over her, had an arm at her neck, so she could hardly breathe.

After a moment, he let go. “What the hell are you doing?”

“S-somebody’s out on the dock.” Her words were shaky. “A man. It’s only six in the morning. I got scared.”

Bolting to his feet, he found a key in the nightstand and slid a steel box from under the bed. From that, he drew a gun.

He did all this totally naked.

She didn’t give a whit.

He barked, “Stay where you are,” and crept to the window. Several seconds passed before he said, “Shit. Still there. Get on the floor.”

“What about the boys?”

“Do as I say and don’t question me.”

Isabelle followed his order, so she couldn’t see him now, heard nothing. He must be at the window.

“Son of a bitch,” he finally murmured. “He could have told me.”

That didn’t make sense. Some rustling, then, “You can get up, Mrs. Barton.” Now his voice was gravelly. “One of my brothers is on the dock.”

Again, Isabelle could hardly breathe. Closing her eyes, her body went limp and she began to shake. When she finally looked up, Agent Marino was standing over her, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt. “You okay?”

“I guess.” She eased up to a sitting position. “I overreacted.”

“Rightly so. I’ll make sure none of my family does this again.”

“None of—”

“I’ll explain later. You, um, should button that up before you meet Connor.”

Tracking his gaze, she saw her thin tank top was askew under Michael’s shirt, exposing a breast.

He gave her a half smile, calling attention to the growth of whiskers that darkened his jaw. Though he’d put on clothes, he glanced down, said, “Pretty much even, now,” stuck the gun in the back of his waistband and let himself out the side door after he turned off the alarm.

For a moment, Isabelle lay there. Finally, she admitted that, despite the fact that she didn’t like any of this at all, Agent Marino did have his uses.

“I pulled my gun, asshole.”

Backdropped by the lake and the pinkish-blue horizon, Connor smiled at Nick. He was dressed in denims, a T-shirt and deck shoes. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait to see you. And I’m on Middle East time.”

At thirty-five, his baby brother had been in Syria for two years. The grueling work he’d done there showed in the world weariness of his blue eyes and some way-too-early specks of gray in his dark hair. He’d also acquired a sense of innate sadness that he’d never had before. Nick approached him and they hugged without self-consciousness. No matter what he did, Nick couldn’t keep himself from mellowing around his family, so he allowed himself the joy of Connor’s presence.

“Good to see you, Con. Mama and Pa told you where I was?”

“Yep. You know them. They think our lives should be open books.”

He grimaced. “I let them in on what I was doing before I knew this job was going to be a covert operation. I wish everybody knew.”

“Why don’t they?”

“The president is humoring his little sister. We both said no, but she won. I would have objected more, but secrecy does have its advantages in catching the guy. Even though it’s harder to guard her.”

“That’s why I’m here. I thought I’d help with the deck.”

“You’re supposed to be resting. You don’t look good.”

“I’m going stir crazy already.” Connor stared out at the lake for a few seconds. “Gabe’s coming up, too, right?”

“Yeah. He said he’d take some furlough to help with the deck.” Though Nick already spent some time with Gabe since they lived close, and also met up with him every eight weeks when Nick was required to return to the Secret Service academy in Beltsville for firearms recertification, he liked the idea of having his older brother around more.

“I worry about him, Nicky.”

“You worry about everybody in the world, kid.”

Connor gestured to the surroundings. “How’s the bodyguard stuff going?”

Nick studied the house. From this vantage point, the white-sided, three-story structure with black trim loomed over the water. The trees on either side gave the lakefront property unusual privacy. “You scared the shit out of Mrs. Barton.”

“God, I never thought about that.”

The back door opened, then slammed. Dressed in a yellow sweat suit now, looking like one of the tall flowers in the garden near the swing set, she stood on the deck and waved. Even from down here, he could see the sun highlight the gold strands in her hair. “I have coffee ready,” she called out. Her voice was huskier over the distance.

“Come on, bro, let’s go get some java.”

Connor stayed where he was. “That’s Mrs. Barton?”

“Uh-huh.”

“The president’s fifty-five. She’s young.”

“I guess.”

“And pretty.”

“I didn’t notice.”

Not at first, anyway. But after the danger was over and Nick saw her naked breast peeking out from her shirt and her surprisingly long legs revealed by her short pajama bottoms, he had taken a second look. Any red-blooded man would have.

“Yeah, sure. And I got a bridge to sell you.”

Chuckling, Nick clapped his brother on the back and they made their way down the dock.

“Thanks, Mrs. Barton.” Connor smiled up at the president’s sister as she served him coffee at one of the umbrella tables on the deck. She had the kind of looks both he and Declan, the second youngest, favored. Gabe and Nick went for the dark, sultry type, but he preferred girl-next-door, or had before he went to Syria. He should have stuck with the fair-haired ones. “I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m not used to this intrigue.”

“Neither am I. I’m sure you didn’t mean any harm. So, you’re going to help with the deck?”

“Yep, I’m gonna work for Nicky here.” He was trying his damnedest to compartmentalize the pain he’d brought back from the Middle East.

“My other brother might come, too,” Nick put in, his hand around a mug that read World’s Greatest Wife. “But he’s another Secret Service agent.”

“I need another one of you?” she asked, sounding distressed.

“It certainly won’t hurt. Gabe works at the Secret Service Training Center.” Which Connor knew his oldest brother resented. Gabe liked not knowing what was around the corner, having the potential to change history, as Nick did.

Connor added, “He’s got weeks of leave coming and told me he might scoot up to the lake for a while after he visited with our parents.”

“Are you an agent, too?” Mrs. Barton asked Connor. She was sitting in one of the red padded chairs adjacent to him.

“No. I’m a doctor. I’ve been in Syria working with Doctors Without Borders.”

“Wow.”

“Yep, there are three agents and two doctors in our family.”

“Three agents?”

Connor’s gaze went to Nick. “She doesn’t know about Whitney?”

“Not yet.”

Isabelle cocked her head.

Resignedly, Nick told her, “The nanny is my cousin, Whitney Dwyer.”

“She’s more like our sister,” Connor added. “She was raised with us. Her parents were killed in a plane accident when she and I were five. She was torn between choosing the Secret Service or medicine as a career, and when Mama had a fit about the possibility of her following Gabe and Nick, Whitney opted for premed in college and became an EMT in the summers.”

“Con, TMI.” Too much information.

Mrs. Barton was amused. “Don’t stop now. This is fascinating.”

Cheerfully, Connor went on. “She went into the Peace Corps with her medical training for twenty-four months but eventually decided on the Secret Service, despite my mother’s objections.”

His older brother gave him an exasperated look.

Isabelle had to smile. “I’m a bit overwhelmed by your family.”

Connor laughed. “This, from the president’s sister?”

She shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe I’m overwhelmed because of this whole protection thing. It’s nerve-racking.”

“I imagine so. I have degrees in internal medicine and psychiatry, if you’d like to talk sometime.”

“Why, thank you. I’m hoping I won’t need guarding too long.”

They discussed her rare books for a while. “Another of our brothers, Declan, collects old medical tomes,” Connor told her. “He’d be interested in hearing what you have.”

“I do mostly fiction, but I’ll keep an eye out for anything in medicine. Things come up daily that we didn’t even know existed.”

After more small talk about the authentication of books and their values, a wave of exhaustion swept through Connor. So he stood. “I made a reservation at the B&B where Whitney’s staying. I’ll go get settled.”

Isabelle said, “The boys will be awake soon.”

Nick’s brows knitted. “I think they should stay home from school today. Since Agent Dwyer isn’t here yet.”

“No way. Today’s the end-of-the-year picnic. I’m chaperoning.”

“Then I’ll have to go, too.” He asked Connor, “Will you be all right for a few hours?”

“I’ll catch a nap while you’re gone.”

Isabelle frowned at his brother. “How will we explain you coming to the picnic?”

“We won’t have to. I’ll stay in a hidden location.” At her doubtful expression, he arched a brow. “My adult life has been dedicated to protective detail, Mrs. Barton.”

Connor left them alone on the deck. As Nick had said, this was a complicated situation, but Connor was so glad to be back with his family nothing else mattered to him. He wondered how Nick was handling the situation, though. He wasn’t used to anybody questioning his decisions.

“Hi, Isabelle. Thanks for chaperoning.” Trey Hanover, the boys’ teacher, gazed warmly at her. His students adored him, and he’d always been sweet to her.

“I’m enjoying myself. I love helping out in school.”

His expression was sincere. So were his blue eyes. “You’re valuable to the elementary staff. We don’t have enough volunteers.”

Looking out over the yard where the school held the picnic every year, she watched the kids climb on the jungle gym, do craft projects and play catch. Like most of Catasaga, the area was surrounded by trees and had a huge grassy space for play. Today, the sun was hot, but in the shade where she stood, it was cool. “Jamie and Ryan will miss you this summer, Trey.”

“I’ll be around.”

An odd comment. Oh, but he probably meant that he’d see her at the bookstore, and the boys often accompanied her. Teachers came in frequently in the summer. And Trey had an interest in rare books, too. She’d found him some deals on a few sports collectors’ items.

“Mr. Han-over!” Jamie screeched as he ran toward them, his blond hair sticking up, smudges on his knees and elbows. “You gonna be in the three-legged race with me?”

“Of course. I promised.” He winked at Isabelle. “But what about your mom?”

“Ryan and I are a team.” Her other son was seated at a picnic table, drawing. Like his architect father.

“This is so fun. I gotta go see Rye.”

When Jamie left, she noticed Trey staring at something behind her; his shoulders stiffened.

“What’s wrong?” Isabelle asked. These days, she was constantly on edge and wary.

“That’s the second time I thought I saw something in those woods.”

Hell, could Nick Marino be that sloppy? “Probably a deer. They prowl around in Catasaga all the time.”

“Maybe.” He pointed to the grilling area. “Want to help me cook some hotdogs? This is the one and only time of year we offer unhealthy food.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They had a pleasant day. The food was a big hit, and Jamie and Trey won the three-legged race—Jamie won every sporting event he entered—but Ryan got first prize in the art contest, so both were happy.

As they helped clean up, Isabelle covertly surveyed the woods, wondering where Nick was. Against her will, she pictured him naked in the downstairs bedroom this morning. At the time, she was too scared to take in details, but now she remembered contours and hard planes of torso, long, corded legs, impressive… Hell, why was she thinking of him in the buff? She was going to have to talk to him about Trey’s suspicions, and she was dreading the discussion. Her experience with the Secret Service had taught her that agents didn’t take criticism well.

When the picnic ended, the kids raced to the SUV that Jimmy had sent under the guise of the car being a rental while hers was getting fixed.

Nick waited on one side, disreputable with his scruffy beard and worn jeans. “Hi,” he said to the guys.

“Mr. Martin. You comin’ to the bookstore with us?” Jamie asked.

“Yep. I’m making new storage units there, so I have to check out the place.” He’d driven to school with them and told the kids he had some supplies to buy for the deck but would pick them up at the end of the morning.

Isabelle said, “Get into the backseat guys.”

Nick frowned when she slammed the door. He dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, the action stretching the denim tight against his front. “What’s up?”

“I’m wondering how good you are at your job is all.”

Dark eyes narrowed, he cocked his head. “Explain that remark.”

“The boys’ teacher saw you, twice, in the woods on the north side of the school.”

Abruptly, he yanked open the passenger door. “Get in the car now.”

“What? ”

“I said get in, Mrs. Barton.”

“Why?”

“Because I wasn’t in the woods on the north side of the school.”

Mary Ellen Lewis glanced up from the computer when they walked into Barton Books. A petite woman, Nick guessed she was a bit older than Isabelle. “Hi.” She frowned, probably when she saw that her friend was upset. “What’s wrong?”

Nick was none too happy, either. Because of the boys, he and Isabelle hadn’t been able to hash out her unfair criticism, and he was itching to set her straight.

She said, “I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“This have anything to do with the notes?” she asked quietly.

“Shh.” Isabelle touched Mary Ellen’s arm. “The boys are here.”

Mary Ellen knew about the first notes. One had come in the mail and one had been left at the entrance to the store in a big box, an insidious present. But when Nick entered the picture, they instructed Isabelle to keep anything else that happened to herself. And they’d stuck to the handyman story as his cover with her, too, though the deck part was a relatively new development. Originally, he was only supposed to build the storage units at the shop.

But Mary Ellen Lewis was going to be hard to deceive. She had a palpable affinity to Isabelle. He also wondered if the president’s sister had confided in the flirty teacher. Nobody, not even these two normal people in her life, was above suspicion.

Bypassing the conversation, Isabelle introduced the two of them. They exchanged greetings, then Mary Ellen dismissed him and turned back to her friend. “Do you want to check out the new website that just came online?” She shook her head. “I swear I can’t make heads or tails of the value projections.”

Apparently, Isabelle’s research and acumen in finding rare books had gotten that part of the business off the ground, and she continued to handle it. The president got a kick out of this branch of the store and bought first-edition biographies whenever they found one for him.

“Let’s look now.” Isabelle glanced at him, her expression annoyed. She was annoyed? “I’ll leave you to do your measurements. Let me know if the boys get in your way?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He studied them as Isabelle walked to the back office with Mary Ellen, then focused his attention on the layout of the store. The place would be attractive to readers—lots of wood, non-glare lighting that managed to be bright enough to read, walls painted a dark green, and a cute kids’ play area, where the boys had headed. He took note of the exits, the number of windows. Like the ones in the lake house, these were also new. After his sister had been kidnapped, the president had insisted on upgrades to her house and the store. Bullet/shatterproof glass windows, shutters for many of them, and an alarm system for all the exits. The biggest security improvement at her home was the large walk-in closet. It appeared normal, but on closer inspection, the space had been made into a safe room.

“Hey, Mr. Martin, wanna read with us?” Ryan asked.

“Sure.” He crossed to them and scanned the children’s books available for storytelling. And saw his favorite. “How about this one?”

“I love that book,” Jamie cheered. No surprise there.

Nick cocked his head at Ryan. “I don’t care which one we read.” Ryan was easy going, didn’t dig in his heels. Nick’s own family fell into the same kind of roles.

Settling onto a couch, they sat on each side of him. Declan’s kids always curled up to him as he read, and Nick liked the cuddling. He didn’t know the boys well enough for that, though. He began Where the Wild Things Are.

Three books later, Isabelle emerged from the office. “I’m ready to go,” she said to Nick. Fatigue etched tiny lines around her mouth and her shoulders slumped, but they had to clear the air.

Standing, he spoke to Mary Ellen. “Mrs. Lewis, I need to ask Mrs. Barton some questions about the storage units.”

“Go ahead.”

Twin pink slashes formed on Isabelle’s cheeks as she led Nick to the back of the store. The office was spacious, one window, a connected bathroom. A four-by-five alcove recessed off to the right where he was to build the units.

Shutting the door, he leaned against the wood and gestured to the small couch. “Sit down.”

She didn’t. Instead she stood watching him. She’d changed into khaki shorts and a white summery blouse for the picnic. When she folded her arms over her chest, the sleeve pulled up and he noted a bruise on her biceps. From him grabbing her this morning? That bothered him. “I don’t want to sit down.”

“All right, then. Here’s the deal.” He was all agent now. “Don’t ever question my competence again.”

“Excuse me?”

“You thought I was stupid enough to be seen by a teacher?”

Her hot expression confirmed his statement. And she’d said as much.

“You have to have complete trust in me.”

“Hard to do, when you didn’t even go check the woods for signs of an intruder.”

His pulse rate sped up. Since he’d become the special agent in charge of the PPD, no one questioned him. “I know my job, Mrs. Barton. It’s to protect you and the boys. An agent always stays with his protectees. If we’d been working in pairs, one of us would have gone out and scouted the area in question.” He took a step closer and the scent of flowers and femininity filled his head. “Would you rather have been left unprotected if some lunatic was in the woods? He’d have total access to you and the boys.”

Her face paled. “I never thought of that.” Still, she frowned. “Were you even watching the woods?”

“I kept my focus on you and the kids all morning, like I’m supposed to. Periodically, I also surveyed the area and caught sight of a deer or two, but I didn’t see any human being.”

Her chin lifted. “Then, why did you start ordering me around if we were safe?”

“I didn’t say you were safe. We have to take into account every detail of what happens. The teacher might have been right.”

Her eyes narrowed on him.

“You and I need to get one thing straight. Do you or do you not have confidence in me?”

“I guess I do. If Jimmy does.”

Why on earth was she being so contrary about all this?

Shaking his head, he turned to the door before he said something he’d regret.

She grabbed his bare arm, her fingers strong, the palm of her hand soft. “Nick, I’m sorry if I’m cranky. This is hard for me. And I’m scared most of the time.”

“Which is why I’m here.” But because that fear was illuminating her eyes, he softened his tone. “We need to get used to each other, is all.”

“I hope that’s possible.”

“It has to be.”