SERENA

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THE HOUSE FELT SO FOREIGN and vast after living in the shabby, cramped motel room.

But it wasn’t soldierly neat, everything in its place, as it had been before. There were empty beer cans and hard liquor bottles on the kitchen counter, and coffee table. Ties and dress shirts were flung over the backs of chairs and couches.

I spotted an invitation next to the landline and picked it up. The company was holding its annual get together this weekend.

“You might as well attend. It would put to rest any questions people might have about us.”

“I’ll need a cocktail dress.”

“Tom will have to take you. I’ve got to get back to the office.”

“You froze my bank account, remember?”

His mouth ticked up slightly. “The dress is on me.”

On the drive into town, Tom kept switching from sullen silence to cursing under his breath at the other drivers. Was he angry at me for running away?

“Mac needs to bow out of this,” he said suddenly.

His mirrored shades hid his eyes, but the furrowed brow, the hard lips pulled into a thin line, told me he was deadly serious.

He turned down the radio. “Not sure you know this, but Mac’s been protecting you on the sly, and on his own dime. He’s jeopardizing his career to keep you safe.” Tom could be downright chatty when he was upset, it seemed.

“I didn’t even know he was a federal agent until yesterday.”

He gave me a quick glance. I sensed that he was surprised by that admission.

“The Bureau only offered minimal security. Nothing beyond some CCTV surveillance of the area in front of your apartment. They weren’t convinced you were at risk.

“About a week before you ran, I caught a P.I. parked at the bottom of the driveway. Binoculars, cameras, the works. Managed to get it out of him who’d hired him. Your ex-boyfriend.”

That was shocking. I was sure Ryan had long forgotten all about me.

He glanced my way. The sun glinting through the windshield struck his mirrored glasses. “I know nothing about Mac’s investigation beyond the fact that he’s using a covert identity. It can’t be a good development when a private dick starts snooping around.”

“I’ll say something to him, but I don’t think I’m the girl to convince him to quit.”

He chuckled. “Did you miss all the empty whiskey bottles around the house? Or my fresh patching job? He put two holes in the wall with his fist.

“You are definitely the girl. Problem is, you’re both the only person who could change his mind and the one he’s risking his neck for. Not sure how to square that circle.”

He scrubbed his hand through his buzzed hair as if frustrated. “You know what? Forget I mentioned this. Don’t say anything to him. I think it would just backfire.”

Forget that he just told me Mac was putting himself in danger to keep me safe. Yeah, easy as pie.

Tom pulled into the underground parking lot. I’d given him directions to the boutique that I’d been to the last time I’d attended one of these events with my father.

The shop sold only one of each dress, which could be altered to fit. The uniqueness of the dress ensured that the buyer wouldn’t be embarrassed at an event by someone showing up with a matching outfit.

I had no idea what a federal agent made...basically, how much I dared to spend. My father never put a limit on me when it came to clothing or anything else for that matter, but then much of my father’s wealth had come from fraud, whereas Mac came by his money honestly.

Tom positioned himself in a corner of the shop, trying and failing to be inconspicuous. Lucky for him I wasn’t the kind of shopper to linger. I walked straight to the discount rack, something I’d never done before. It was easy to see why some of the dresses hadn’t sold. Either the color was unappealing, or the style was yawn-worthy, or there was just too much going on; unnecessary ruffles, sashes, crazy sleeves. I opted for two boring ones, and one of the frillier ones.

As I walked past the rack with the new arrivals, one particularly beautiful, off-the-shoulder black lace dress caught my eye. I held it against me and checked myself out in the mirror on the wall. It seemed perfect. Sedate enough for a company event, and yet slinky enough to attract Mac’s attention. I craved his attention like I’d never craved anything in my life. Beyond leading me out of the club, he hadn’t touched me once since he’d captured me. Captured, what a joke. I hadn’t put up any resistance.

I noticed the neckline had a fringe of lace without the modest satin fabric that lined the rest of the dress. It was a sexy, but subtle accent. I tilted my head a little and imagined wearing the dress with my hair in a Bridget Bardot slightly messy up-do. Maybe I’d make Mac pay just a little for keeping me in the dark, and then almost instantly I had a change of heart and shoved the dress back onto the rack.

I crammed myself into one of the tiny changing rooms.

The midnight blue was as unimpressive on as it was on the hanger. It reminded me of something one of those uptight wives with helmet hair shellacked with hair spray might wear. Dull and matronly. I had to twist awkwardly to get a look at the back in the full-length mirror. It did have a sexy cutout at least. Maybe I could make a backwards entrance into the banquet hall. The creamy-white chiffon one with the sequined bodice reminded me of a prom dress, but it fit nicely.

Last and probably least was the teal blue one. I usually liked this shade, but this had a neon-y quality to it. I tried to ignore the obnoxious color and attempted to fit my breasts into the molded cups.

There was a knock on the door. I opened it and the salesgirl’s gaze dropped to my bountiful breasts spilling over the ruffled bodice, and then quickly lifted to my face. She was holding the black lace dress.

“He wants you to try this one on.”

Tom had obviously picked up on my hankering for it. Fine, it gave me an excuse to try it on.

The dress turned out to be the most gorgeous thing I’d ever put on. Slinky, sexy, and classy all at the same time. And I had the perfect pair of heels still in the box, sitting on a closet shelf in my apartment.

With a wistful sigh, I slipped out of it.

Tom met me at the register. He frowned at my choice, the chiffon dress.

“The lace one is too pricey.”

“We want the black one,” he told the salesgirl. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a billfold thick with cash. The salesgirl hurried off to fetch it from the dressing room a smile playing on her lips, obviously a girl who worked on commission.

“That dress may just be what it takes to square that circle,” Tom said once the salesgirl was out of earshot.

Though Tom and I didn’t discuss it further, it was pretty clear he expected me to seduce Mac then beg him to quit his risky assignment. I needed more ammunition. I had Tom drive me to my favorite lingerie shop.

I insisted he wait outside this time, but he was as bull-headed as Mac and followed me in anyway. I did my best to ignore him and picked out the most outrageously sexy teddy they had in stock. It was made of unlined Chantilly lace, even the fabric on the built-in underwire cups was sheer. And the back was even more provocative than the front with a corset-like lace-up and a thong bottom. When it came time to pay for it Tom actually blushed as he forked over the cash.

Once back at the house, I collected all the liquor bottles and straightened up the house and then started preparing for the night out. I was going to try my damnedest to wow him.

The undergarment was so fragile I took great care putting it on, fearing it might rip as easily as a pair of nylons. Once I laced the back up, I did a pirouette in the mirror and decided it was as close to going pantiless as I could come. If this didn’t steam-up Mac’s law-enforcement sunglasses then nothing would.

I had a moment’s hesitation when I heard the front door shut. When I didn’t hear Mac call out, “Hey, darlin’, I’m home,” as he used to, my doubts came rushing in. Why hadn’t I done a little candle magic and cast a spell to make him attracted to me again? Relying on a flimsy undergarment was stupid.

I turned to face him as the bedroom door opened, saving my nearly nude backside for my last resort. He was yanking loose his tie as he stepped into the room. He stopped cold, his hand on his tie, his intense gaze swept over me, making my blood run hot. This was supposed to be altruistic, saving my man from risking his career, maybe even his life. What a sacrifice. I sighed to myself remembering how amazing it felt to have him inside me. I wanted him so badly it hurt.

He tossed the tie atop the dresser and started undoing the button on his collar. “Why are you running around in fuck-all? What are you planning to do to me this time?”

“I wouldn’t run away again if that’s what you’re suggesting. I know now you’re one of the good guys.”

His mouth ticked up in a surly smile at my syrupy words.

My pulse was beating erratically. “I simply didn’t want to get any make-up on my new dress.”

He seemed so hard and unapproachable. I was finding it difficult to remember how we’d ever gotten together in the first place.

He moved to sit on the bed, I moved as well, turning so that I continued to face him. I’d never felt more embarrassed or vulnerable than I did at that moment, standing nearly naked in front of a man who didn’t want me anymore. I certainly wasn’t going to add to my embarrassment by turning around and showing him my exposed backside.

He was untying his shoe but barely sparing it a glance. He was too busy watching me through wary eyes. I took a couple of awkward steps to the side toward the towel that I’d draped over a chair. I snatched it and hurriedly wrapped it around me. I was out the door before he could say another word.

I put on my dress while he showered and then went in search of a little courage. Mac’s rejection of me had left me feeling unsure and fragile and helpless. Tom had been completely mistaken. I had zero influence with Mac.

Standing on tiptoes in my stocking feet, I checked the cupboard above the fridge. Unsurprisingly, considering the bottles I’d put in the recycling bin, the cupboard was bare. And the refrigerator was empty of beer. I remembered the champagne Tom had given us to celebrate our wedding. We hadn’t opened it, of course. I found it behind the prepared meals which had accumulated during my absence. Mac had obviously been doing more drinking than eating.

I tore off the foil wrapper and untwisted the wire cage. I pulled in a startled breath as the cork flew out the moment I removed the cage. The bang brought Mac to the rescue. Bare chested, his hair still damp from the shower, his pants undone.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath as he stared at the dripping bottle in my hand. “Why are you drinking?”

“I’m a little nervous about tonight. And I thought since we didn’t open this to celebrate the start of our marriage it seemed somehow appropriate to drink it now...at the end.”

His jaw tightened.

I cheekily poured myself a brimming glass. The bubbles frothed over the top and down the sides. I can’t drink this, I realized suddenly, I’m pregnant.

“Would you like to join me in a toast?” I asked.

He just stood there scowling at me.

“To the end of a marriage.” I lifted the glass to my lips and pretended to take a sip.

“Enough.” He snatched the glass from my hand, splashing champagne onto the floor, then dropped it in the sink where it shattered into glistening shards.

Lights beamed in through the window and I turned my head to glance out. A black limo was pulling up in front of the house.

“Stop acting up,” Mac growled.

I jerked my head around to glare at him. He made me sound like a misbehaving child and I guess that’s exactly how I was acting.

“If you can’t fake being a devoted wife for a single fucking evening then you’re no use to me. I’ll go alone.”

“I can fake it.”

He threw me a warning look before leaving the kitchen.

My throat tightened. He hadn’t even spared a glance for the sexy dress I was wearing. I was just a prop now. A pretend wife, a means to an end.

I rummaged through my overstuffed purse until I found my favorite spray perfume and applied it liberally, on my neck, between my breasts and on both wrists. At least I’d stimulate a reaction from one of his senses.