There’d be no living with Zack now.

Clenching her teeth in irritation, Whitney glanced across the seat at Zack. They’d only been waiting in the SUV for fifteen minutes before a man and woman walked into the parking garage to pick up their car. Whitney had thought by flashing her FBI badge at them that they would want to help them out. Nope. It was Zack flashing his money – five hundred dollars, to be exact – that convinced these strangers to give them a ride into town. He’d given the excuse that their car broke down, and they couldn’t wait for a tow truck.

The middle-aged couple, Mr. and Mrs. Boatright, were kind people who liked to playfully tease each other. They were friendly, as was Zack, but Whitney just couldn’t open up like Zack had. Thankfully, he never mentioned how rich he was. It was bad enough that Whitney had nearly jeopardized her assignment thanks to that little kissing scene that was now taking over social media.

Zack had given them directions to a townhouse in Manhattan, and it surprised her that these strangers would gladly drive out of their way to take Zack to this place. What people would do for money...

Strange, but the couple didn’t ask about the bloodstains on the arm of Zack’s jacket. Then again, because the leather was black, the stains were hardly recognizable as blood.

Mrs. Boatright peeked in the backseat at Whitney. The curly brunette-haired woman smiled. “How long have you two been married?”

Heat crawled up Whitney’s neck and exploded in her face. Zack glanced at Whitney and chuckled before turning back to the woman.

“We’re not married,” Whitney quickly answered.

Confusion marked the woman’s forehead with wrinkles. Whitney tried to think of something intelligent to say, but for some reason, today was the day her mind had decided not to deal the smart-card in the game of chance going on in her head.

Zack laughed and leaned over to Whitney, grasping her hand in a loving gesture. She sucked in a breath. What was he doing?

“That is a good question, Mrs. Boatright,” he said, keeping his stare on Whitney. “You see, I’ve been trying to get this beautiful lady to marry me for several months, but she thinks her job is more important.”

Shock slapped Whitney in the face like a two-by-four wooden plank against her skull. Obviously, he was playing the role she’d started at the airport, but it would have been nice of him if he’d warned her about it first.

Releasing an uncomfortable laugh, she tried giving Zack a sweet smile, although she was sure the others would think it looked pure evil. “Oh, Zack. Are you playing on Mr. and Mrs. Boatright’s sympathies? If you remember correctly, we both decided to hold off on getting married so that we can save money to have a nice wedding.” Zack opened his mouth to speak, so she hurried on. “Besides that, your father won’t be able to fly back into the country for at least another year. I think he’d want us to wait for him, don’t you?”

She wasn’t sure just how much Mrs. Boatright could see of Zack’s expression, but his glare was razor sharp as he aimed it at Whitney.

“Nah. Dad would have been fine with it because he just wants his son to be happy.”

Whitney moved her focus to the other woman for a brief second. Since Whitney had been an FBI agent, it was easier for her to read people’s expressions, and the woman appeared very doubtful. In order to keep their identities hidden – at least Zack’s – Whitney needed to make sure the others believed their story.

Mustering up a tender smile for Zack, she stroked his smooth cheek. “But darling,” she lowered her voice, hoping it sounded slightly seductive, “what about our jobs? Neither of us are making enough money for a wedding, let alone to start out a marriage.”

The color in his brown eyes softened the longer he looked at her. “Money shouldn’t matter if two people are in love.”

She couldn’t stop the romantic side of her from coming awake after all of these years. What happened to her theory of love stinks that she had tried cramming in her head for three years straight?

Mrs. Boatright let out an audible sigh. “He’s right, Whitney. You can’t base a marriage on money. Only love.”

“And trust,” Mr. Boatright said, giving a nod to his wife.

She smiled and grasped her husband’s hand.

Zack leaned closer to Whitney, staring deep into her eyes. “Come on, babe. You know you love me. You know you want to be my wife.” He shrugged. “We could always elope. It doesn’t matter to me, as long as we can be together, forever.”

Why had she even started this conversation in the first place? Her heartbeat skipped abnormally for the first time since Steve had dumped her, forcing her to devote herself to her job. And why was it getting harder and harder to look away from Zack’s dreamy chocolate eyes that weakened her in the worst way?

She swallowed, hoping to add moisture to her suddenly dry throat. “Oh, Zack. You know how much I love you. And yes, I do want to marry you. But if you love me, you’ll let me have the fairytale wedding I’ve always dreamed about. After all, I’m only going to get married once.”

He sighed in defeat. “Well, because I love you so much...”

She smiled fully, surprised how elated she felt even though they were just pretending. “You’re such a wonderful man.” She threw her arms around his neck and pressed her forehead against his.

There was no way she wanted to kiss him in front of the Boatrights, but it seemed Zack had different plans. His head tilted as his mouth started heading right for hers. Panic gripped her chest and she couldn’t breathe

“I think this is the address, isn’t it?” Mr. Boatright asked.

Whitney jerked back, as did Zack. He leaned toward the window to look outside.

“Yes, this is the address.”

“This is a really nice neighborhood,” Mrs. Boatright said with a touch of awe in her voice. “Is this where you live?”

“I wish I could afford to live here.” Zack chuckled. “This is my father’s house. He’s out of the country, but he lets me stay here when I’m in town.”

He unfastened his seatbelt and opened the car door. “Mr. and Mrs. Boatright, it was a pleasure to get to know you. And thank you, once again, for being good Samaritans by giving us a ride.”

Whitney climbed out and thanked the older couple before closing her door. Staying in character, she moved beside Zack and took hold of his hand, entwining their fingers. As the car drove away, Zack led the way up the steps and to the front door. He punched in a code beside the door before using his key and opening the front door.

As soon as they were inside and the lights were on, she stepped away from him, breaking their contact. She took in the grandeur of the place and gasped in surprise. She’d never known anyone with a lot of money, and naturally, she’d never had the opportunity to be inside their home. Zack’s house was decorated in light peach and green, with contrasting splashes of brown. But it was the furnishings that nearly made her drool with envy. His taste seemed to lean more toward the turn-of-the-century. Never had she seen so many items that appeared new, but were styled for the early nineteen hundreds.

“So, this is where you live, huh?” she asked, taking slow steps into the living room.

“Not really. I bought this place for my mother, but she doesn’t like to stay here very often.”

Whitney’s heart dropped. So, he doesn’t live here, only his mother? For a moment, Whitney had wanted him to be the one who enjoyed old-fashioned furniture.

“Why not? This place is an interior designer’s dream-come-true.” Whitney wondered why his mother hadn’t wanted to live in a museum like this. Was she blind or something?

“I’m glad you think so, but my mother thought the townhouse was too small and the neighborhood was too crowded. She’d rather live in Upstate New York.”

Apparently, his mother was not blind, just a snob. Whitney nodded. “Well, I think this place is very beautiful.”

Her gaze fell to one of the many paintings on the wall. Excitement rushed through her, and she gasped again, moving closer to the painting of a bridge over a small stream covered with flowers floating in the water.

“Oh, my...” She stopped in front of the painting, not believing her own eyes. She stretched out her hand to touch it, but withdrew before it reached its mark. “Is this a... Claude Monet?”

When Zack stepped beside her, she didn’t turn to look at him. She couldn’t. The painting was too mesmerizing.

“Yeah. You like Monet?”

“I love his work.” She grudgingly tore her focus on that painting and moved to another one. This particular painting was of a Victorian man and woman walking amongst some trees and shrugs. “No!” she gasped. “This can’t be...”

She snapped her gaze to Zack who stood looking at her with a silly grin.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Is this a Pierre-Auguste Renoir painting?”

His grin widened as he nodded. “You certainly know your painters.”

She glanced back at the painting. “I adore his work.”

“Yeah, he’s one of my favorites, too.”

“I could look at these paintings for hours.”

He shrugged. “Feel free. I’m going upstairs to shower and change my clothes. This dried blood on my skin is itching like crazy.”

She tore her attention away from the paintings to look at him, again. “Do you live here, too?”

“No, but I have a room here... with clothes.”

“Oh. Well, when you shower, if you get your bandage wet—”

“Yes, I know. There’s gauze and tape in the hall closet. We’ll bandage up my arm when I’m done showering, I promise.” He motioned his hand toward the kitchen. “Also, feel free to look through the kitchen if you get hungry.”

He turned and headed up the stairs. She couldn’t tear away from staring at the way his jeans practically clung to his thighs and waist.

Grumbling under her breath, she moved toward the kitchen. Maybe she was the one who needed a shower... a very cold one. The man confused her. Her emotions jumped all over the place when he was around. She just needed to figure him out so she knew how to act around him. That was the only way either of them could survive.

The grumbling of her stomach reminded her that there was something more important than staring dreamily at paintings by famous artists – or at a certain man’s butt.

The kitchen was vastly different from the front part of the house because every appliance was extremely state-of-the-art. The first place she went was to the refrigerator. Just as she pulled the door open, her cell phone buzzed. She jumped from the sudden sound and quickly grabbed it. When she read the name on caller ID, her heart sank in dread.

What excuse could she give Captain Bott for her mess-up this time?

“Agent Lawson,” she answered, hoping to sound confident.

“Agent?” His loud voice boomed from the other end. “You’re using that title loosely, aren’t you?”

Her nerves were already frazzled, but it seemed as though he was going to make it worse. “I um... I don’t know what you mean, Captain.”

“Lawson, I just finished watching your video.”

Grimacing, she rubbed her forehead. “What video, sir? I didn’t make a vid—”

“No, you didn’t make it, but someone at the airport did and they’re spreading it around social media.” He cussed. “What do you think you were doing bringing attention to Zack Greyson when he’s supposed to be in hiding?”

“Well, sir, you see...” She took a steady breath, trying to find the courage she had somehow lost. “As I was following him today, he led me to the airport. He was headed to Hawaii, and I knew I had to stop him.”

“By making a scene and pretending you were in love?” He released a disappointed groan. “Lawson, I think you should have figured out a different way to stop him.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s a little too late, now,” she defended her poor decision. “And I was desperate. I knew he wouldn’t come with me by flashing him my FBI badge.”

He sighed. “You’re correct, Lawson, it’s too late to change it.” There was a short pause. “I hope you’re planning on fixing this.”

Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to cry. “Yes, sir.”

“Because I can guarantee you one thing,” he snapped. “If the senator’s hitman finds Zack Greyson, he won’t be the only one in danger.”

“I’m well aware of that, Captain Bott.”

“Fix this, Lawson. This is a warning. Your job is in jeopardy.”

“Yes, I know,” she whispered before her voice broke.

He ended the call without saying good-bye, which was all right with her. She would have probably started crying.

Inhaling deeply, she paced the kitchen. No longer was she hungry. Instead, she was determined. She’d show the captain – along with Mr. Dreamy-Eyes – that she was a good agent, and she could do her job without messing up.

As she paced the floor, her mind spun with ideas, but she crossed every one of them off her list. She had to be more creative. She needed to hide Zack where nobody would find him.

Immediately, her stepfather’s face popped into her head. He’d divorced her mother when Whitney was ten-years-old, but he’d been the only father she’d ever known. Thankfully, Joe Robbins treated her like the daughter he’d always wanted. And...

Whitney grinned. Joe owned a horse ranch in Maine away from civilization. The ranch would be the perfect place for Whitney to hide Zack. Not only that, but being on a ranch would force Zack to be a regular guy instead of a dreamy billionaire.

Things were looking better and better already.