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“Hand me the leveler,” Nick barked at Connor. The blistering sun beating down on them intensified his sour mood.

“Yes, sir.” Connor’s sarcastic tone also irritated him.

As the week wore on, the tension in the house had mounted exponentially after the incident with the firecrackers and President Manwaring’s concern about recent threats to him. Isabelle was jittery, Nick ornery and Connor tried to keep the peace.

He was checking the joist they installed this morning when he heard, “Nick?”

Glancing up, he saw Isabelle had come outside. Her hair was back in a braid and she wore jeans cut off below the knees that molded to her.

“Yeah?”

“Someone’s at the door.”

“Don’t go near it!”

“I didn’t. Though I don’t see why I can’t, with the new camera installed there.”

“Because I said so.” Tossing down the leveler and leaving on his tool belt, he started up the steps, checking to see that his gun was concealed in the pocket for nails. When he reached the top, he saw the worry etched around Isabelle’s pretty eyes and realized his mood wasn’t helping her. He rolled back on his heels. “Sorry. I’m grumpy.”

“Me, too.”

“Let me go first.”

She nodded. “The kids okay?”

“Yeah, they’re down in the water with Whitney.” His posture erect Secret Service-style, he headed into the house. “Stay back here on the porch.”

“Won’t it look odd if you answer my door?”

“I’ll see who’s there then decide.” He strode to the foyer and peered at the camera screen inside. “Just what we need.” He hustled back to her. “Trey Hanover’s on the porch.”

“The boys’ teacher?”

“Uh-huh.” He frowned. “Use the intercom your brother had put in so he knows you have it for protection.”

“From Trey?”

“Yes. And get rid of him as soon as you can.”

“You think everyone’s a suspect.”

“As you should.”

“Nick, I’m trying but I can’t wrap my head around all that. I’m sorry.”

Thawing at her honestly uttered words, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I understand. I know this is hard on you. But I have to act in your best interests.”

He situated himself in the small living room off the foyer where he could spring into action at any time. She spoke to Hanover through the intercom, then opened the door.

“Hi, Isabelle. I hope you don’t mind that I stopped by.”

“Of course, Trey. Come in.”

He entered the house and caught sight of Nick. “Um, hi.”

“This is my friend Nick. He’s working on the deck. We were going over somethings about the framework up here.”

“Ah. Can we talk a few minutes? I’d love some coffee.”

Nick’s eyes narrowed.

“Sure, come on out. We’ll sit on the deck.” She gave Nick an innocent look. “You can get back to work.”

He guessed he could watch her from outside. This guy’s background check had come out squeaky clean, but who knew what lurked below an innocent façade?

Nick waited outside the door off to the left until she fixed coffee, then he jogged down the stairs before they came out.

Connor approached him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, a suitor’s here.”

“A suitor?”

“There’s three guys that are sniffing around Isabelle all the time. This one’s the boys’ teacher.” He could hear the dislike in his voice.

“Nick, your tone…I don’t know, you sound jealous.”

Jesus. He was. And the reaction was totally unacceptable. “I’m not jealous. I’m more wary now after the president’s call yesterday. Anyone could be a threat to her. Besides, I don’t like strange people in the house.”

“How long has he been a teacher at the school?”

“Fifteen years.”

Connor snorted. “I’d say he’s pretty safe.”

“Can’t be too careful,” Nick growled. But he knew he was overreacting. He wouldn’t let himself speculate too much on the real reason and picked up his hammer.

On the deck with Trey, Isabelle noticed from the corner of her eye the two brothers returning to work. She faced her guest. “It’s so nice to see you.”

“Thanks. How are you?”

“Fine. Working from home.”

“Where are the boys?”

“Down in the water. I hired someone to entertain them part of the day so I could concentrate on business.”

“Hmm.” He leaned back in his chair. “Seems unusual for you.”

Best to ignore questions if she could. “Tell me what you’re up to this summer.”

“Curriculum work on units for next year. Enjoying some of my new purchases, thanks to you. There’s nothing like the feel of an old book in your hands.”

“I know what you mean.”

She and Trey had a lot in common. Throughout the year, he’d paid special attention to her whenever they met up. And he was attractive with the sunlight catching on his dark blond hair and his twinkling blue eyes. For the first time, she realized he had coloring similar to Michael. She wondered why she’d never seen him as a man.

Probably because she wasn’t looking for one. But five years had passed since her husband’s death. Given her erotic dreams lately, she decided when this surveillance was over, she might pursue something with him. Celibacy had finally gotten to her.

Her gaze strayed to the muscular, sweaty man out on the lower deck. The hot sun glistened off him, too. She almost sighed. Truth be told, his dark rugged looks appealed to her more than Trey’s appearance. Which was ridiculous thinking. She and her agent couldn’t be any more different and she’d be glad when he was gone from her life.

She would.

“So,” Trey said, interrupting her musing. “I came out to ask you to come to a last-minute Fourth of July party at my house.”

“The boys would love that.” She said the words before she realized she should check with Nick. He’d probably say no.

“I have other friends with children. And a big pool.”

“I—”

“Mr. Hanover!” Jamie’s voice came from the top of the steps, then both he and Ryan raced to their teacher.

Jamie touched his shoulder. “Holy cow, what are you doing at my house?”

Trey patted her son’s hand. “Hey, there.” He turned his attention to Ryan. “Hi, Rye.” Sometimes people left Ryan out of the conversation because he was shy. She liked that Trey didn’t.

“Hi, Mr. Hanover,” her more reticent son said. “Did you come to see us?”

“All of you. I want you to come to a July Fourth party at my house.”

“Yay!” Jamie, of course. “We got a nanny now. Can she come?”

“Of course. You can bring anyone you want. The more the merrier. I already asked Mary Ellen and Oliver from the store.”

“I—” She glanced at the kids. How could she get out of this one? Really, she couldn’t.

“What time and what can I bring?”

“You what?”

Isabelle saw the color rise in Nick’s face after she’d given him the news. But she refused to be intimidated by him. “I accepted an invitation to Trey’s Fourth of July barbeque at his house.”

His whole stance tightened. “Absolutely not. You’ll have to bow out.”

“I can’t. Besides, I don’t want to.”

He closed his eyes, probably counting to ten. “Isabelle, do you have any idea how much danger you’re in?”

Deflated, she dropped into the chair at the table. “Sit down, Nick.”

With a scowl, he sat.

“I hate feeling at odds with you like this. I am scared. But even if I could stay in this house for days on end, the twins can’t. Trey told them about the invitation before I could stop him.”

His gaze was intense. “I know the boys are frustrated. They keep asking Whitney why they can’t go to their friends’ houses. She’s struggling to answer that and tried to convince them to invite two over here today.”

“I know. Truly, I didn’t see I had a choice about the picnic.”

“All right. I shouldn’t have jumped on you about this. I’m not used to domestic situations. I’m more used to being in the kill zone.”

Her breath hitched. “Is that what you call it?”

“I shouldn’t have said that, either.” He shook his head. “For some reason, you make me act out of character.”

She liked that. Which was stupid.

“Let’s talk about how the barbeque could unfold.”

“You can’t come.”

“Sure I can. We’re dating.”

“I don’t think Trey knows that.”

“You didn’t want to tell him? Is it because you know he’s got the hots for you?”

“I do know he’s interested in me. I didn’t tell him because the boys would know, then, and I don’t want them to think I’d hook up a stranger who’s working for me.”

“Are you interested in Hanover?”

“I could be. It’s been five years since Michael died. I need to move on.”

Reaching out, he put his hand over hers. “That sounds like a plan, Isabelle. But surely, you can wait a little longer. This situation shouldn’t last too long. The president’s involved, and all the agency’s resources are devoted to finding the perpetrator. I’ll be out of your life before you know it.”

A tiny hole opened in her heart. Because he wouldn’t be around much after this? “All right.”

“So, if I don’t go, what would you propose?”

“The boys asked if Whitney could come to the party. She could protect me.”

“Yeah, I trust her with that. And I could do long-range surveillance.”

Isabelle watched him. She could almost see his logical mind working out a plan.

“Let me take a run over to his place and check the surroundings. See if there’s somewhere for me to observe what happens in the pool area. We often have one agent on the inside and another scanning the grounds. But if there’s no place to surveil from, you’ll have to bring me as a guest.”

“That’s a fair compromise.”

He gave her a crooked smile. “I’ve been known to do that a time or two.”

“Surprise, surprise,” she said with a grin.

Nick tromped through the woods surrounding Trey Hanover’s house. The area was closed off with trees, neighbors lived miles away. The location wasn’t on the water, but the surroundings were upscale all the way. How, he wondered, did a man on a teacher’s salary afford to pay for such a place? He’d be sure to check that out before they came here for July Fourth festivities.

A denser copse of trees perched on a hill, so he climbed up and took out the best-money-could-buy binoculars. He had a clear view of the pool. Pretty swank. The lawn was big and, again, outlined by trees, as if this lot had been carved out of them. Just as Nick approached the house, Hanover had driven away in a nice car. Nick could take a closer look, too.

Doubling back, he made his way to a window. The kitchen. All wood and tile. Then he checked another window. Holy shit! A woman sat in a chair, in front of the TV.

An old woman.

Ah, Hanover probably lived with his mother, maybe even his grandmother. Suddenly, Nick felt better about Isabelle and the boys attending the party.

Forty-five minutes later, he walked into Isabelle’s house. She was at the sink, dressed in khaki shorts and skimpy tank top. “Hey, there.”

She turned and a smile lit up her face. Nick had never thought much about a different life, but suddenly, he wondered what his would be like if he came home to a woman, and that kind of smile, every day. “Hi.” She picked up a dishtowel and dried her hands. “What did you find out?”

“You can go to the party with the kids. There’s places for me to watch from.”

“Thank you, Nick.” She gestured to the phone. “I already ordered some cookies from the local bakery to bring along. Could you take me there now to get them?”

“No, absolutely not. You have to stay out of public places. Think about what happened at Create a Cat.”

She sighed. “We could run in quickly. I also need to pop into the bookstore. I can’t go for a week without showing up there. And the bakery is right next door.”

“You talk to Mary Ellen every day.”

“Being MIA is out of character for me.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s a tiny shop and I love the little old man who runs the place.” She pointed to a bag. “I bring him jam periodically. Please.”

He knew he shouldn’t, but… “All right, stick by my side. I’ll tell Whitney.”

“Thanks, Nick.”

Barilla’s Bakery was a landmark in the little town of Catasaga with scalloped shingled siding and a white roof. They walked inside after spending a bit of time in the bookstore. The owner stood behind the counter, humming along with an Italian song on the radio. No one else was around. “Hello, Mr. Barilla. How are you today?”

His weathered face broke into a huge smile for her. “I am well today, la mia bella donna.”

They approached the counter. She’d asked Nick to be nice and he cooperated by holding out his hand. “Hello. I’m Nick Martin. Hai un bel posto qui.”

Mr. Barilla’s eyes got even brighter and he responded in English, “You know Italian.”

“Some. My father’s parents were born in Italy.”

“Thank you for complimenting my store.” Then he turned his gaze on Isabelle. “I have your order ready in the back.”

She handed him the jam. “Put this out there, too.”

“Raspberry?”

“Of course.”

“Grazie.”

Just as the owner slipped in the back, the little bell over the door tinkled. Isabelle turned to see a man walk in and approach the counter. “Morning.”

“To you, too.” As he perused the display, he said, “So, what’s the best cookie here?”

“All of them.”

Nick sidled in closer to Isabelle.

“Do you know the names of them?”

She crossed to the display case and began the recitation. “Biscuits, Italian Fruit Bars, Anise Toast…”

When she finished, the man turned to her. He had hazel eyes and a kind expression. “You can’t eat all those regularly, given how slim you are.”

Isabelle giggled. “Thank you.” She held out her hand. “Isabelle.”

“John.”

Nick edged her back. “Mr. Barilla is waiting for us.”

“Pleased to meet you, John.”

“You, too.”

She could feel Nick’s tension when he put his hand on her back as they left the store. “What’s—”

“Not now!” He led her to the car, opened the door and got them both inside.

“Nick—”

“Not now!” He swerved away from the curb, drove to the end of the street and into a parking lot. There, he turned off the engine and pivoted in his seat.

His face was impassive. Cold. “Damn it, Isabelle. What’s wrong with you?”

“Excuse me?”

“You made contact with a total stranger. He could have gotten poison into you.” Nick’s eyes flamed. “Injection with a miniscule needle, or he could have had some on his palm, which couldn’t hurt him because he took an antidote.”

She put her hand over her mouth. “Oh, no, I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I’m partly to blame.” Even colder. “What the hell am I doing letting you talk me into visiting the bakery, going to the barbeque. Jesus Christ! Do you want to die?”

Her throat tight, she stared at him. Then a single tear trickled down her cheek.

Nick knew he was angrier at himself than at her. He was the responsible party here. He should have nixed the cookie run and the barbeque. Instead he’d let her talk him into doing both. But he wasn’t ready for her reaction.

She turned away and wiped her cheek. But her shoulders hunched and he knew more tears had joined the one he’d witnessed.

He blew out a heavy breath. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

She mumbled something.

“I’m angry at myself because I feel like I don’t have control of this situation.”

When she didn’t turn around this time, he tugged her shoulder so she’d face him. The sadness he saw there was joined by something he’d caused. Fear. Deep fear. Her lips trembled.

Without censoring his actions, he pulled her to him. It was awkward across the gear shift, but his arms went around her. She grasped his shirt and buried her nose in his chest. Her hair tickled his nostrils, and its scent was lilac. She was all woman with generous curves and softness. For a moment, he let himself bask in holding her close to his heart. Like an ordinary man would do.

Then the agent surfaced. He shouldn’t be comforting her. He stiffened.

She drew back. “You don’t have to apologize. You’re right. What was I thinking?”

“Your whole life has been upended.” Her complexion was blotchy and her eyes watery. “It’s up to me to set parameters and insist you follow them.”

“I will, from now on, whatever you say.”

“All right.”

“We’ll make an excuse to Trey about the barbeque. I don’t have to go.”

His hand fisted on the wheel. “You’ll have an insurrection on your hands.”

“I’ll find a way to deal with the boys.”

“No, we can compromise this time. But we’ll need more people inside so I won’t watch from the perimeter.  I’ll come with you, as your boyfriend or cousin of Whitney. That way I’ll be close to you.”

She nodded.

He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and brushed his knuckles down her cheek.

And made a promise to himself. No more of this. I have to control my attraction, my feelings for her.

Her life was on the line and he had a responsibility to put her first. Just as he’d always done in his job.

Isabelle felt like a wet noodle. She was totally drained by the constant tension and mistakes she knew she shouldn’t be making. They walked into the house through the front door, which had been locked up tight, and Nick motioned to the stairs. “Go on up and take a nap.”

“What about the boys?”

“Whitney texted me. They’re down at the swings with her.”

“All right. I’m exhausted.”

“I’ll be here. I’m going to stick closer to you when I can.”

Climbing the staircase, she was besieged by a sense of hopelessness. Her whole world was upside down, having lost her normal routine, which she’d depended on for the years since Michael’s death. Tears threatened again but she battled them back with a harsh Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She heeded the warning as she entered the bedroom and closed the door. She kicked off her shoes and turned to the bed.

A figure stepped out from the bathroom. A man. Her mind processed only a few things: black T-shirt, black jeans, boots. “Don’t scr—”

She screamed.

He started toward her.

The door flew open

Nick barreled through the entrance.

He tackled the guy onto the bed. His gun fell to the floor. Isabelle went to reach for it when she heard, “Christ, Nicky, what the hell are you doing?”

“Gabe?”

Nick eased off the man and stood. The guy rolled to his feet. When they embraced, Isabelle slid to the floor and put her head down on her knees. Her heart was thumping in her chest, her legs had gone weak and she felt sick to her stomach.

 * * *

“What were you doing upstairs?” Nick asked Gabe while casting surreptitious glances at Isabelle. They’d come down to the kitchen and were seated around her table. She was still pale, but she sipped her tea without saying anything.

“Scoping out the house so I’d have the lay of the land. I particularly wanted to check out the safe room the president had put in.”

Nick sat back and relaxed a bit. “When did you get here?”

“Apparently, right after you left. Whitney filled me in, and I spent some time with her and the boys outside. Then I excused myself and came in to look around.” He focused on Isabelle. “I’m sorry I scared you, Mrs. Barton.”

She swallowed hard. “I understand. I overreacted.”

“No, you didn’t,” Gabe said softly but with firmness. Nick had forgotten he had a knack for mixing the two, which convinced others to do his bidding easier than Nick’s gruffness.

“You were right to scream at a strange man in the house,” Nick added.

“You knew I was coming, Nick. The president told you, right?”

“Yeah, but I thought you’d call with the details.”

“Then this is my fault. Again, Mrs. Barton, I take full responsibility.”

“I’m not blaming you. My body hasn’t gotten up to speed yet.”

Gabe expression was sympathetic. “The adrenaline spike and then the drop off.”

Nick shook his head. “This is two for two.”

She gave him a small smile.

“What does that mean?” Gabe asked.

“Connor appeared on the deck out of nowhere. We reacted like she did with you.”

“Neither is acceptable.”

“In any case,” Nick put in, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Thanks. And thanks for getting the president to send me in.”

“I didn’t do that, Gabe. He suggested your involvement.”

Gabe didn’t smile a lot these days, but when he did, the expression transformed him. His whole demeanor relaxed, and his deep brown eyes, like Nick’s, twinkled. Though that’s where the resemblance ended. Gabe wore his dark hair longer than Nick’s and emanated an overall dark and dangerous appearance. “I like hearing that.”

“I don’t understand.” Isabelle seemed to be coming out of her daze. “Why wouldn’t Jimmy call you? Nick said you have a prestigious position in the training center.”

Immediately, the mask came down. “Didn’t Nick tell you about my background?”

“No.”

“She needs to know,” Gabe said to Nick. “Secrets come back to bite you in the ass.”

“Whatever you say, buddy.”

Gabe turned to Isabelle. “I’m afraid getting sent to the center was a punishment, not a promotion.”

“I wouldn’t say that.” Nick’s defense was strong. “No one wanted to punish you.”

Big shoulders stiffened, and he spoke again to Isabelle. “I did something and was taken out of protective services.”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“Nicky, please. You’re not helping. Let me get this out.” Again, to Isabelle, he said, “I’m sure you’re aware of the black marks on the Secret Service in the last few years.”

“Yes. But Jimmy said those incidents were caused by a few bad apples giving the whole force a bad name.”

“I’m one of the apples. Five years ago, I was the SAIC, the special agent in charge for the vice-presidential detail. I headed a team sent down to Mexico to do the advance work for the VP’s visit. A group of us always check out a high-ranking politician’s travel destination to set up protection, investigate any locals on the Watch List and call in the police department for help.”

“I’m aware of some of the protocol, because of my brother.”

“We were two days in when I tripped over a tree limb while running. I bruised my shoulder. Had medical treatment. That night, I took pain pills so I could sleep. Instead of keeping tabs on my men, I missed the whole sordid mess they got into. Prostitutes, booze. Right under my nose.”

Nick’s heart went out to his brother. Gabe hadn’t done anything wrong. He waited for Isabelle’s reaction, hoping she didn’t agree with Whitney that this was indeed a measure of Gabe’s inadequacy. The president’s sister could get him kicked off the case.

When Gabe finished, she said, “I’m not an expert, Agent Marino, but I don’t see how that was your fault. You got hurt. And your agents were grown men, responsible for their own actions.”

“The action of underlings is always a reflection of their leader.”

“I’m surprised my brother was so harsh toward you.”

“He didn’t have a choice,” Nick put in. “So many other mistakes had been made by the Secret Service, he had to come on strong.”

Gabe added, “I don’t blame him.”

Isabelle waited a minute. “Which says a lot for your character.” She cocked her head. “I’m not going to object to you being here, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Nick could see Gabe’s relief in the softening of his shoulders and un-fisting of his hand. “Thank you, Mrs. Barton. I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

Which was an understatement. Nick knew Gabe craved the opportunity to work his way back into the good graces of the government he loved.

And Isabelle had given it to him.