His shoulder was asleep. Pins and needles swarmed on his arm as he levered away from the doorjamb where he’d been leaning for lord only knows how long. Cam rubbed away the prickly sensation. He didn’t care if barbed wire was involved—as long as he could quietly observe the beauty of his sleeping kids, he was good.

He stared at Lily in her crib. She was adorable when she slept. Sometimes, he wondered what dreams his babies had. Did Dylan dream about snow angels and horseback rides in the desert? Would Lily Rose’s imagination be filled with wonder?

God, he hoped so.

With a reluctant sigh, he pulled the door partially shut after one final look. Across the hallway, he peeked in on Dylan. They’d had a busy day, and the lad was out cold, sprawled across his new toddler bed—a second birthday gift from Uncle Sinjin.

He smirked at the “big boy bed.” Drae’s idea of what every kid needed. Cam wanted to kill him when he first saw it. Not because it wasn’t unique and awesome—but because there were ladders involved and an “upstairs” loft area that poked at Cam’s protective instincts. Wasn’t the modified bunk bed design simply an invitation for a broken arm?

To his annoyance, after Roman pointed out that Matty had a similar bed, all of his objections were ignored, and the massive wood structure was installed.

Some part of him didn’t enjoy this growing up thing Dylan had going on. If he could keep things as they were, he would. Indefinitely.

Being a good dad and partially housebroken husband, he gathered the laundry from the kid’s bathroom hamper, wiped down the sink where Dylan squirted toothpaste, and double-checked the toilet. His son mastered a kid potty and graduated to the real deal not that long ago. It wasn’t unusual for a full party to break out when he proudly displayed the results of a bowel movement. This also meant Dylan Henry Cameron started early with the bathroom humor.

He was shoving stuff into the washing machine when his senses picked up Ponytail’s scent. Lacey was home!

Instantly losing patience with his domestic chores, he crammed as much as he could into the washer, filled the detergent cup, set the wash controls, and bolted from the laundry room in search of his wife.

He found her in the kitchen in front of the refrigerator, bent over and showing the slightest hint of her underwear as she rummaged around. The bottle of fruit juice she pulled out was half gone in a heartbeat after she uncapped it and went for an unladylike slug. Wiping the back of her hand across her mouth, she let out an exaggerated, “Ahh,” and slammed the door.

When she turned around, he was right there grinning at her. “Thirsty?” he teased.

She kissed him hello, mumbled “Mmhmm,” and looked at everything in the kitchen except him.

Cam chuckled. “What did you do?”

Her gasp and the way her eyes shot to his struck him as pretty funny. Didn’t she realize he knew her better than she probably knew herself?

“I did a bad,” she murmured.

The naughty girl caught in the act vibe his wife was putting off made Cam’s heart soar with amusement. He took her by the wrist—she said she’d been bad after all—and pulled her into the living room.

He took the juice bottle from her hand, put it on the coffee table, and then sat on the sofa. Patting his thigh, he arched a brow and waited.

She crossed her arms, pulled some cocked hip bullshit out of her quiver, and pouted up a storm.

“What does that mean?” she grumbled with a dip of her head to indicate his hand gesture. “Sit on your lap or prepare to be spanked?”

She surprised him with her reaction. His snickering chuckle was genuine. “Which would you prefer?”

With about as much grace as a clumsy puppet with a bad case of the sorrys, his Ponytail dropped onto his lap in a way that sent an unfortunate slam to his nuts. He grimaced when she wiggled around—totally ignoring the fact that she was killing him.

“When I tell you what I did, you’ll want to spank me.”

Her lip biting and pouty tone resulted in the usual hard-on. She was just so damn adorable the way she hesitated. He knew she’d been with the girls. That was why he was home alone with the kids. It was inconceivable that she’d get into an argument, so what else could it be?

He asked, “Is my phone about to light up with messages?”

Lacey sniffed and played with the end of her ponytail. “Well, maybe.” She shrugged and smoothed her dress. “Uh, possibly Rafe.”

His hackles went up. “Excuse me?”

Her grimace did nothing to calm him down. If Dallas had done anything to disrespect his wife, he would be cleaning the floor with that shithead slab of muscle, once and for all.

“You’re going to get mad,” she whined.

“Fuck, yeah, I am. If that asshole did anything, I’ll …”

“No! No, oh poop, Cameron. No. He didn’t do anything. It was me. I’m the one.”

“What?” He was confused. “You did something to Rafe?” A slow smile crept onto his face. “Was it good? Please tell me it was.”

The way her bottom bounced on his groin when she gave an exasperated huff made his dick eagerly engage.

“I couldn’t help it!” she exclaimed. “When I saw the chance, I just went for it. He’s always so ready with a practical joke,” she growled. “And while I think this rivalry you two have is silly, you are my husband so I kind of had to. Family loyalty and all.”

“Are you essentially saying that you were bad—but it’s my fault?”

She hadn’t seen it that way—her reaction made that clear—but his eagerness to take the blame gave her the perfect wifely out.

“If the shoe fits, Jason Cameron,” she drawled.

“Okay, well, don’t keep me in suspense.” He chortled. “What did I make you do?”

When she started fiddling with the buttons on his shirt and hemming and hawing like a pro, he knew his wife was becoming a champion mischief-maker.

“Well, it’s more about Domineau than Rafe.”

His eyes went wide, and he felt his brows shoot up. Tangling with Domineau took serious balls. He grinned and encouraged her to continue.

“You see, well … oh god,” she moaned. “There’s this homeless woman and Stephanie.” She was waving her hands as the lip biting intensified.

Stephanie and a homeless woman? What does this have to do with Rafe and Domineau? He was confused and trying to piece together what she was having so much trouble saying.

“So Heather thought since she was a warrant officer and all but that wasn’t enough. And then I sort of stepped in it.”

Not a single word made any sense, but Cam sensed she was near the core issue, so he hung on every word.

She grabbed handfuls of his shirt and earnestly griped, “You said she had an extra room, right? And that she was never home.”

Oh wait. She was starting to make sense. “Are you referring to Rafe and Domineau with the obvious and laughable sneaking around?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Exactly! Nobody is fooled, right?”

He scoffed. “Read the book, saw the original movie, bored by the sequel. Does that answer your question?”

“They needed a place to stay—near a school. Domineau had an extra room. All I did was suggest maybe she should consider roommates.”

Without a clue what she was talking about, he still got the gist, fixated on the word roommates, and started laughing like hell. Smoke and roommates! Bah!

“Um, Cameron. I’m afraid Domineau was not pleased. Red had to step in.”

Uh-oh. He needed more information. Information he could understand.

“Baby, start by telling me who ‘they’ is. Who needs a place to stay near a school? Fill in the blanks, please.”

“Oh, okay. Right.” She squirmed on his lap. “Woman named Becca Tate and her daughter, Kori. She’s the homeless vet who was sleeping in the car behind the diner. Heather is organizing some outreach to help.”

He nodded. The homeless vet situation was something they reacted to without hesitation.

“She was an Army Warrant Officer, and while I don’t know what that means, some others thought that sort of experience would be perfect for Stephanie’s assistant.”

“Oh, I get it now,” he murmured. “You guys found her a job. That’s so cool, honey.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she continued a bit more enthusiastically. “Kori is going into seventh grade, so they need to live in the school district. That means the rooms in the compound are off the table. Everyone else has a full house. Except Domineau. So I thought since she had the room and everything …”

“That you’d fuck with them by forcing her to play nice with others.” He held up his hand. “Give me five, Mrs. Cameron. Five for a well-played fuck you.”

Lacey hauled her hand back and then slapped his so hard it stung.

“Are you mad? Maybe I went too far,” she murmured. “It’s Rafe’s fault.”

Cam had to snigger. “I thought you said it was my fault.”

She graced him with her patented Lacey Cameron sweeter-than-sugar smirk. “It’s both your faults, then. All this back and forth with the stunts and jokes. He’s bigger than you! Get over it.”

“Oh, no you don’t.” He laughed. “Nope. After two years, Mrs. Cameron, I finally know when female logic is being applied. Obscuring the subject won’t excuse what you did. Rafe and I are grown-up boys. We act like idiots. The practical jokes will never stop.”

His adorable wife knew she was losing ground and muttered under her breath. “The crate of spinach was the last straw.”

He had to give her that one. Rafe was a dick for sending Ben over to the house with a gigantic crate of fresh spinach, which quickly rotted in the sweltering heat. Still, it was funny.

“I thought the last straw was the Popeye tattoo he put on Dylan’s leg.”

His Ponytail squinted and growled at the reminder. She’d had a full conniption fit and hadn’t given a flying fuck that the design was temporary. He and Drae made the mistake of laughing, and holy god, had she ever gone up one side and down the other. Watching Sinjin shield his balls from Lacey’s toothless bark was hilarious.

She switched gear. It wasn’t really about him, Rafe, or the childish rivalry they were never going to let go of. He wasn’t entirely sure where the impulse came from although a good guess would be the shared experience of losing a mother. That was the easiest way to explain Lacey’s interest in Domineau Rivera’s well-being.

“I watch her, you know. When we all get together. She wants so badly to be one of the girls. It breaks my heart, Cameron,” she whimpered.

He stroked her back. “Why?”

“Because she is one of the girls!” Lacey didn’t like to raise her voice unless absolutely necessary. She stopped and calmed down. After a bit more back rubbing and a few deep inhales, she sought his gaze.

“It’s so sad. It’s as if she doesn’t know how. To be a girl, I mean. Even though she does. She is!” she quickly exclaimed.

Nobody really understood Domineau. Rafe did—more than anyone—but it didn’t take an over-active imagination to see that she was like an iceberg. Even those who knew her the longest only saw the 10% above the water line. The shit hidden below the surface was where the problem hid.

“I’m no scientist, but if I had to take an informed guess, my money is on what happened to her at the exact moment a girl comes into her own. Call it arrested development or traumatic loss.” He shrugged. “Don’t think a clinical explanation matters. With Domineau, I think she’s always an awkward eleven-year-old. Probably why she gets along with the guys. We were her social group and where she felt most at ease. Until Justice, I honestly can’t say I ever saw her with a female friend.”

“Everyone loves her,” she grumbled. “But she’s just so snarly and is her own worst enemy. She’s stuck between the past and the future. I know what that feels like.” She lowered her voice to a whisper and said, “So I pushed.”

A thunderbolt of inspiration lit him up. “I have an idea. Let’s invite her to family dinner with the Camerons. Just her. No one else.” He grinned at his beautiful wife. “We’ll do it up and impress her with our family shtick. Steaks on the grill and ice cream sundaes with Dylan. She’ll love it.”

It occurred to him that what his wife and friend needed was neutral territory, so they could start from scratch. Establish something meaningful that was more one-on-one than a group activity. Lacey’s soft heart wanted Domineau to be happy—nothing more. The two getting to know each other better was a good thing.

“I love it,” she gushed. “We can do s’mores and get out the bubbles. I’ll extend the invitation and tell her a bathing suit is required.”

He raised a brow and gave a little headshake. “Oh god. I know what that means. Dad watches the kids while you move the drinks cart next to the hot tub and subject my old friend to a Ponytail interrogation.”

She giggled and wiggled. Uh-huh. He knew what that meant.

“It worked on you, didn’t it?” she asked with sly impertinence.

He laughed. “Sorry, honey, but I don’t think we had a hot tub back then.”

More giggles and wiggles. “True. However”—she chortled—“we had a bathtub that my big ole bear thought was a giant hamper to throw dirty clothes in. Remember?”

Ah. Yes. Yes, he did remember. His lover at the time had opened him to all sorts of new experiences, including the decadence of a well-planned bubble bath.

“Are the babies asleep?” she whispered close to his ear.

“Down for the count,” he growled. “Fresh air and exercise. Works every time.”

“Such a good daddy,” she murmured. Her soft hand stroking his face needed to move south. Into his pants.

Cam was deciding whether to dump her off his lap or cajole her into getting up when she slid off his thighs, stood, and in a breathtakingly fluid movement, she whipped off her dress and draped it over the arm of the sofa.

She had on her new favorite stretchy lace bra thingie. The garment was designed by chick-logic and involved desert heat, boob sweat, and something his wife insisted was a jiggle factor.

Her panties were indecently transparent with a little white bow on each hip.

As he stood, Cam had just one question. “Are you okay with a slut fuck?” He thought it best to ask—in case she was gearing up for something a bit more gentlemanly.

His naughty wife giggling and excitedly clapping while jumping up and down demonstrated the aforementioned jiggle factor and let him know she was up for anything.

Stepping into his body space, she plastered herself to his body. “I thought you’d never ask,” she purred.

Cam shuddered when she sucked on his earlobe and bit down. Her throaty growl saying, “Do me dirty, big guy,” guaranteed she’d get what she wanted.

Hadn’t she said something earlier about a spanking? He grunted, sat, grabbed her wrist, and with a gentle tug, he sent her over his knee. Lacey’s gorgeous ass in the see-through lingerie turned his boner rock hard.

She laughed and struggled, but he held her down with one arm on her back while caressing her bottom. In no time at all, her laughter turned to low moans.

“Sometimes, wife, a spanking is just a spanking.”

He smacked her the way she liked and enjoyed her writhing grunts. If he didn’t give his cock some breathing room soon, he’d end up crippled.

When her lovely derrière was slightly pink, he slid his hand into her panties. “Are you trying to tell me something?” he growled when his fingers encountered heat and arousal.

They both reacted wildly. He was desperate to feel her hands on his cock, and she was just desperate. His shirt surrendered its buttons when he morphed into Superman and simply ripped the two sides open. Before his hands moved to the fastening on his jeans, her mouth was on his chest.

Once they got started, there’d be no holding back.

Luckily, he was barefoot, making the frantic removal of his jeans a bit easier. Lacey smacked his hand away when he got rough with her panties. She liked to complain that he ripped them to shreds faster than she could replace them.

Standing, chests heaving as their mutual desire took over, they each snickered. He was naked with an insistent hard-on. She was bare bottomed and giggling. He pushed the stretchy bra thing underneath her boobs and latched onto a puckered nipple.

“What’ll it be?” he growled. “Slut fucks get first refusal rights. Head down, ass up, or over the arm of the sofa? Or”—Cam chuckled—“first you say hello with your wicked fingers and decide from there.”

Her amused and sexy giggle was wrapping around his heart when she slid to her knees. “Well, let’s see what comes up, shall we?”

Yeah—when it came to getting it up for his Ponytail, Cam was always more than ready.

She applied her hands and got him groaning up a storm. Her licks and nibbles drove him to the brink of his control. There was no sucking involved—his wife knew how to drive him crazy without it. He was about to surrender when she gave off a mighty growl before quickly dropping into her favorite filthy position. Lacey perfected the arched back fuck-me invitation. She put her head on the carpet and looked back at him. He liked seeing her eyes when they fucked.

“Hurry.” She shook her ass and arched even more.

He went down on one knee, grabbed his cock, moved into position, and went nuts while Lacey howled her pleasure and demanded more. Cam had a second’s worry that he was being too rough until she shook from the lust storm that had taken her over.

“Cameron,” she cried. “Don’t stop.”

Gripping her glorious hips, he shifted and moved around until he found the angle that started an immediate flood. His cock kept swelling with need until he saw stars. The things he did with his hips as he thrust in and out of his lover’s body made them both grunt.

Her eyes glazed over. She was making little whimpering noises each time he sank in balls deep. He heard his name as she begged. His hand went for her clit and rubbed the juicy nub. Within seconds her pussy squeezed the life out of his cock and she shuddered through a powerful orgasm that triggered his climax.

He shut his eyes, held her hips, and arched his back as he erupted deep in her pussy. The jolting spasms ripped him apart. He felt his seed spurt and surrendered to the unimaginable pleasure.

Another lightning bolt—this one coming from inside—shot into his awareness.

He wanted another baby.

* * *

“What is that?” Cameron asked.

Lacey elbowed the container he was looking at. “It’s for gripping the pole. Think of it like a chalk ball in the gym—only without the mess.”

She tapped a control pad to cue up her music and smiled at her audience. Dylan was between Cameron’s legs with Lily on her baby butt between her brother’s spread legs. It was the Cameron clutch.

After a few warm-up stretches, she waited for the next song and then swung into action. Pole gymnastics might seem like a weird thing to some people, but she loved the physicality of the challenge. The style she preferred was also less strip-club suggestive and more graceful seductress. Her husband certainly enjoyed the show - when she let him watch. It was tough because she had a habit of wanting to take him to bed right after, only there was the whole being a parent thing to consider.

“What song are you using for the after show?”

In a rare display of possessive jealousy, Cameron flatly refused to let her do a modest routine for the variety show. She hoped to change people’s perceptions about pole dance, but he wasn’t having it. So she conceded the point—he was her husband, after all —and switched tactics by getting him to agree that she could show off her stuff at the private after party. He had no idea what she was planning and so far hadn’t seemed interested.

She plopped onto the floor at his knees and played with Lily’s toes. “Can’t say,” she quipped. “But it’s a group effort.”

“Meaning?” He raised a dark brow and waited expectantly.

“Meaning, my love, that you have nothing to worry about. I’m wearing the Burka leotard”—she snickered—“and the musical accompaniment will be live. No canned tracks.”

That certainly got his attention. Most likely because he hadn’t gotten wind of this development before now. The men and ladies were so busy spying on each other trying to get a jump on the private performance plans that her little pole display slid by unnoticed. Ha! She wasn’t stupid. Her plan was to surprise everyone—Cameron included—with a performance that she hoped her manipulation of Domineau didn’t mess up. Would probably serve Lacey right if the other woman decided to tell her to fuck off.

She’d worry a little bit more if it wasn’t obvious how important the song became to everyone involved. She’d chosen it to choreograph because she liked the vibe. When a pianist and vocalist got on board, her vision was fulfilled.

With a sly smile, she asked, “What blackmail did Alex threaten you with to get your cooperation with the whole man meat show?”

“Don’t have a clue what you’re talking about,” he mumbled.

Her husband was not a fan of the performance arts. Oh, he had the moves, the look, and enough skill not to make a fool of himself, but he really did not like the Justice penchant for turning everything into a Broadway musical. So she was more than a little surprised to learn that her brooding hunk signed on for a Magic Mike style performance fueled by Rafe’s Chippendales past.

She let it slide in favor of a different conversation.

“Have you decided yet? About going to Colorado with the Danes.”

He didn’t do much more than shrug. “Nothing to decide. We’re going. The four of us. Calder’s old business partner lives nearby and is checking out the real estate market. By October, we’ll be in a position to make some preliminary decisions and then tour the properties we’re interested in.”

They were getting a vacation cabin in Colorado! She could barely contain her excitement. The time she and Cam spent in the snow with Dylan was permanently etched on her heart. Sharing that excitement with Lily just seemed natural. They lived in the desert. A mountain vacation home seemed smart. And then there was Angie trying to talk everyone into some crazy scheme to buy a small tropical island—she said people do it all the time. Like a timeshare that they could all use and also rent out if they wanted.

Sure! Why not? If a conversation ever started about building an amusement park at the Villa to turn it into a Neverland, she’d say something, but till then, she was good.

She watched Dylan get Lily giggling and smiled at her husband. What they had seemed so darn perfect.

Dylan. Her little man was a carbon copy of his daddy blended with her golden coloring. He was a truly funny kid and something of a troublemaker when Danny was around. Those two were going to reign terror over Junior Justice someday.

He was also Lily’s big brother—a responsibility he approached with heart-melting seriousness. Her son was setting a standard for sibling behavior. Lately, he’d even taken to showing Danny the big brother ropes.

Her beautiful baby girl—almost six months old—was an angel. Lily displayed an unusual serenity. She was tactile and loved snoodling—something her daddy exceled at. At times, when her shining baby eyes locked with hers, Lacey swore she saw the expression of a wise, old soul looking back. In a way, it reminded her of her mother—only without the grinding agony of loss.

“Are we going to have more babies?” she asked.

The question—completely out-of-the-blue—didn’t appear to rattle Cameron. As a matter of fact, he perked up at the suggestion.

“Do you want another baby?”

Some part of her wanted to laugh in his face. He was being “woke Cam.” The guys used that term for each other in the face of the worldwide wave of women’s empowerment that was changing so many things—hopefully for the better. Even if he wanted a dozen kids, he’d play the “whatever she wanted” card. All the Justice men understood what they were asking of their women.

But there was this thing she couldn’t stop thinking about. They were two for three in the baby game, and almost every day since Lily was born, she wondered if three was their magic number. Had they always been destined for three children? Had her miscarriage before they even realized she was pregnant been just a fluke or something else?

“I think three is a good number.” When Cameron didn’t react at first, she thought of something else that qualified as an opinion. Of his. “After all,” she pointed out, “this is a four-bedroom house.”

His smile started slow and grew in intensity until it covered his whole face. Honest to heaven, she could look at Cameron’s happy smile all day.

“When I built this house, it seemed like an extravagance. So many bedrooms for a single guy.” He feathered his fingers on her arm. “Until the first time I saw you in the kitchen, I was fairly certain I’d made a mistake. What was the point of a huge home? But I knew then that you belonged here. I was just waiting for you.”

Dylan rolled a few feet away and encouraged his sister to follow. Lily did a commando tummy crawl and chased after him. She was already pulling herself up in the crib. Just like her older brother had been, she was energetic and endlessly physical.

Lacey scooted closer to her husband and put her head on his shoulder. With their hands lovingly entwined, they watched the children.

“Let’s go to Vegas.”

Her head shot up, and she studied his face. Was he serious? Lacey loved Vegas—not because of the Strip or any of that. Oh sure, it was all kinds of raucous fun but what she thoroughly enjoyed—as any female in her right mind would—was the staggering array of pamper and spa services to be found in one small town.

That, and the shopping. It was easy to shed her frugal impulses when her grinning husband begged her to melt his credit card with an extravagant freak-out. It was the least she could do, right?

“Really?” she asked with childish eagerness.

“Sure,” Cameron teased. “We’re over twenty-one, and the kids are old enough to survive a parent-free weekend.”

“When?”

“Slow down, speedy.” He laughed. “We’re a little booked until Labor Day. How about if we plan for the week after the variety show? Or we can wait till after the Desert Thunder challenge. I’ll ask Sawyer what shows are happening and see what he can do.”

“Does this mean you’re okay with trying for baby number three?”

“Yes.” He chuckled.

“I love you,” she gleefully told him.

“Daddy! Look at Lily!”

Their chubby blond daughter had pulled herself up at an ottoman and was hilariously trying to stomp her foot and wiggle her ruffles-covered tushy.

“Dance like Mommy!”

They laughed and got in on the fun by clapping, singing, and generally acting like kids.

Another day, another chance to love her beautiful family with her whole heart.

* * *

Remy cleared the table and tried to ignore Finn. She could tell he knew something was up, but she wasn’t ready to get into it with him. Dragging her feet, was only going to bring more problems. She’d waited too long already.

Lost in the drudgery of tidying the kitchen and loading the dishwasher, she was failing miserably at reigning in her anxiety. Anxiety that existed on several different levels.

The level gnawing away at her nerves involved … what? Her boyfriend? Was that the part Finn played in the current situation? She knew that as Meghan’s brother, he was automatically included in the Justice security protocol. What made her jumpy was realizing that he’d be included solely on the basis of their relationship. She was a Justice managing director. In that scenario, he would be part of Cover-Net.

She thought about her desert vision quest and how much of it revolved around Finn. Domineau was right to call her on it.

“I have to get back,” he told her in a flat voice.

The sound was like nails on a chalkboard because Finn O’Brien was anything but flat. It killed Remy that he stepped so carefully around her—but she’d forced him to be wary with her ever-changing mood swings.

Tossing a dishtowel on the counter, she moved to the sofa and invited him to join her. His face registered surprise, and for the thousandth time, she mentally screamed at herself. Would it hurt to dial back some of the bitchiness?

“I have to tell you something. Something important.”

He nodded and sat down with a respectable amount of space between them. He also immediately demanded to know if she was okay. Finn might be willing to put up with her bitchy attitude, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t also up in her grill. Constantly.

Damn.

She sighed and angrily pushed her hair behind her ears. His concern made her feel like a shit.

Something weird swirled in her gut. What the hell? She pressed a hand on her stomach to quell the flash of emotion.

The weird feeling pushed back. It didn’t want to be ignored any longer. Remy knew she was trapped. Trapped by her growing need for Finn.

Her conscience angrily tsk’ed. Need? Seriously?

Her butt squirmed, and she crossed and re-crossed her legs, but nothing stopped the avalanche of truth that mentally body-slammed her to the floor.

She loved Finn. It wasn’t a maybe or a someday thing anymore.

And because of her feelings and the way she clung to him, he was potentially in danger.

Fuck.

There wasn’t a beginning or starting point for what needed to be said, and she still hadn’t responded to his caring inquiry. Feeling tongue-tied and growing increasingly upset, she tried to get the ball rolling before her nerves got the better of her.

“I’m fine,” she assured him. The ridiculousness of the hollow expression made her wince. Thinking a quick backtrack or side comment would reset the situation, she self-consciously muttered, “Well, okay. Maybe fine is a stretch. I’m never fine.”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” Finn drawled. “From where I’m sitting—in the cheap seats—you’re mighty fine, Ms. Bisset.”

“Don’t be nice to me, Finn. I don’t deserve it.”

His kiss was unexpected and so tender that she was afraid of crying.

“Do you want me to start?” he asked.

Ergh. He knew. What the hell was wrong with her?

He didn’t wait for her to respond.

“First, I know about your other guy.”

She nearly fell off the sofa in shock. “What other guy?”

He met her gaze with an expression she couldn’t read. Panic fired off in her chest. What was he talking about? Shit, most of the time she barely managed to be civil at work, and it wasn’t like she had friends. Certainly not guy friends.

“The one you talk on the phone with.”

Remy blinked in slow motion. The phone. What guy did she talk to on the phone? She chewed her lip and searched her thoughts.

“Long distance,” he added. His expression did not change.

Her poor lip objected to the furious assault from her teeth. A guy she talked to long distance.

When clarity hit, she smacked him on the arm and grumbled, “What’s wrong with you?”

The cheeky, arrogant smirk he did so well, the one she knew and loved, lessened her anxiety.

“You should know my old man offered to step aside.”

She flinched. “Wait. You talked to Paddy? About me?”

“I spoke to my father. You were mentioned.”

The panic got real. “Finn,” she mumbled.

“Hey,” he gently murmured. Taking her hand, he drew her gaze. “My father loves you, and he isn’t the sort to spill confidences. Your conversations with him are protected by the paternal clause. As I’m sure any discussions I may have with your folks would be.”

Her scoffing snort was habit. “Newsflash—my mother and father are porous when it comes to anything about me. They are embarrassing blabbermouths. What they don’t know is for their own good.”

“Well, then we’ll chalk my father’s behavior up to being a cop. He hears confessions all the time and understands what confidential means.”

The very idea of Paddy telling Finn about their talks made her nervous. She found it so easy to talk to the gruff Irish cop and had divulged some pretty personal stuff.

“So you talk to Da on the regular. I’m fine with it, by the way. Moving on,” he said in a fast clip, leaving her no chance to break in.

He squeezed her hand. “I also know way too much about what you’ve been getting up to. With the ladies. Sorry. I’m not prying. Most of the time, what I get is bits and pieces here and there. After a bit—it starts fitting together.”

Uh-oh. Was he talking about her and Domineau naked in the desert? Or the secret musical number she was working on for Lacey? Dammit. She had a lot going on, and her default setting was to keep her own counsel. Something she knew looked like a deliberate deflection to her determined Irishman.

He didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t press, but he did make a surprising request.

“I hope you’ve given serious thought to Ingrid’s spotlight offer. Somehow, and I actually don’t know how, she found out you’re an accomplished pianist. Since I assume you automatically said no thanks, I’d like it very much if you reconsidered.”

“Why?”

“Because of all the stuff you have bottled up. You even keep your amazing artwork under wraps. Let some of that amazingness out, honey. There’s no reason for you to pull back. Stride confidently onto the stage and share your talent.”

This push to help her get a life was a nonstop pressure ever since she admitted the horror in her past. He wanted her to move on—especially once Domineau let them know justice was served.

It sounded simple. And it probably was. But she was her own worst enemy. As much as she wanted a more normal relationship with Finn, there was still a Damocles sword dangling above her.

Getting past what happened was one thing. Moving beyond the emotional damage she inflicted all by herself was another matter completely.

“I’ll think about it.” That was all she had. A lame statement that wasn’t a promise.

“Great. So now let’s discuss Justice and why you didn’t tell me about the dung heap flung into the fan?”

She literally gulped. Not a swallow. Not even a swallow with difficulty. Nope. A gulp.

“I don’t know how to share, remember?”

He didn’t let it rest. His answer made her uncomfortable.

“Sorry—can’t let you get away with that, Remington. You know perfectly well how to share. You just pick and choose.”

“What do you know?” She sighed. “Tell me to save time and I swear I’ll tell you everything.”

“I know my parents have security, and I know Meghan and the twins have round-the-clock protection on top of protection. Alex mumbled a bunch of nerd language about surveillance that went right over my head. And I know, because I fucking asked, that you also have a security detail. Would have been real nice to hear that from you.”

The accusation hit home. She lowered her face and put her forehead on his chest. It was as contrite as she could be with her clothes on.

“You’re right, and I’m sorry. You should be mad, Finn. When it comes to you, I always do the wrong thing.”

“Just tell me. Do you want me to be concerned? About you? I am. All the time and it’s not a secret. You can’t get rid of me no matter what, Remy, but if you had a choice? Right now. This second. Do you want my concern?”

“Yes, yes,” she cried. “I do. For real.” With a surge of spontaneous effort, she shifted and put her arms around his neck. He held her, and she heard his sigh.

“There’s nothing you could do or say that will change how I feel. I understand a lot more than you think, baby.”

His reassuring words gave her comfort. She wanted him to still like her once he knew how damaged she actually was. If he could see past her bad behavior, maybe, just maybe …

Extended hugs made her twitchy, so she pulled back despite feeling some reluctance. Finn was solid and real. She liked his arms around her.

Plus, he smelled good. Like really good.

She owed him a real explanation—not her usual dismissal. He earned her respect a long time ago.

“This is going to sound crazy …”

When he interrupted her little speech and spoke with a gentle softness, the wall of protective ice around Remy’s heart melted. He gave her a smile that set her pulse racing. How did he do that?

“I like the crazy. You do it with a unique style that is all your own. Don’t change because you think you should. Crazy suits you, babe.”

His disarming smile and wiseass charm made her face split into a wide grin. Then his expression stilled and grew serious.

“You’ve got the floor.”

Right, right. What was she saying? Remy chewed her lip and retraced her steps.

When she got right down to it, telling him everything was crucial. Not because she owed him—because he was in potential danger. Because of her.

“There’s been some weird shit in the air. Something is going on behind the scenes. With Alex. Or maybe because of Alex. The devil is in the details,” she worriedly murmured.

With an abbreviated sigh, she continued. “There’s been quiet chatter in the background. Chief Winston is,” she paused to search for a good word. “Concerned. I see it in his eyes. Until last week when shit got real, my involvement was strictly peripheral. Part of the job.”

Finn nodded his understanding. “Security is a big part of your responsibilities. Have to tell you that when I first got dumped here, I thought Zorro’s security paranoia was lame. From an outsider’s viewpoint, Justice practically tagged and bagged every bowel movement in the compound. Bordered on obsessive if you’d asked me at the time.”

She bit the inside of her mouth to stop from giggling. “I’ve come to see that there’s a reason to the Major’s madness. He views things in big picture ways we can’t understand. Like three-dimensional chess or alternate universes. Actually, it’s all three of them. Cam, Draegyn and Alex. They bounce off each other like pinballs. Alex is the big brain, but Drae brings the cool analysis. And Cam, Jesus. Do you think that guy, like ever, puts the remote control down and then forgets where it is?”

It was a real question that got them chuckling and nodding.

One time, she got frantic searching her office for a pair of sunglasses—the ones that had been on her head the whole time. She cringed with embarrassment—glad that Jason Cameron had not witnessed her detour into brainless territory.

“Anyway”—Remy lightly snickered—“you know me. Unless I was personally involved, I kept my head down and took care of business. And then the shit exploded, and I got caught.”

“You should have told me right away. Not fucking days later.” Finn’s clamped mouth and intense stare rattled her composure.

Her chin stubbornly lifted. She could take care of herself. But her being proficient with a firearm wasn’t what pissed him off. It was her reluctance to let him in. The realization took the wind out of her sails and sent her chin lowering like a drawbridge.

She had no excuse. Not one that made sense. Awkwardly, she cleared her throat, pushed hair behind her ear, and mumbled, “You’re right.”

He acknowledged her admission with a slight dip of his head. “Thank you for that.”

Needing an anchor before she continued, Remy slid both hands beneath her thighs. “I wasn’t surprised when Alex went on Defcon alert. The security uptick isn’t just appropriate; it’s necessary until he gets a grasp on the situation. I knew what Control-Net implied,” she said firmly, “so I’ve no excuse for how I reacted.”

“Where is this going?” Finn asked.

Dammit. He didn’t see the obvious. Not yet. She shifted uncomfortably and dug her hands farther beneath her legs.

“If you weren’t Meghan’s brother …” She couldn’t continue.

“What?” he demanded. “If Meghan wasn’t my sister … what?”

“Shit, Finn. Don’t you get it?”

“No, I do not,” he griped. “Come on, Remy. Spit it out. You didn’t tell me you were in danger, and I can’t follow your sibling rationale.”

She jerked to her feet and waved her arms over his head. “Fuck! If you were just some random guy and not the Major’s brother-in-law, you’d still be included in Cover-Net. Because of me! Our relationship puts you in jeopardy. I’m used to this shit, but it’s not okay that being with me could, could, oh shit,” she growled. “I don’t know. But do you understand now?”

He held up a hand to silence her. The emotion in his eyes was confusing. Finn rarely reacted the way she expected. The way she feared.

* * *

He knew when the conversation started that things were going to get interesting. The serious talking to his dad gave him opened Finn’s eyes. Da had also pinned him to the spot and demanded to know if he was sleeping with Remy. His automatic and tersely grumbled, “No,” was met with a hasty retraction when his dad reworded the question.

“I’m not asking if you’re having sex with the girl. I asked if you were sleeping with her. In the same bed.”

The question kept him awake at night because yeah, they slept together most of the time, and if he tried to explain why or what it meant, he became uncharacteristically tongue-tied.

He answered truthfully—Da wasn’t down with verbal detours—and ended up learning something that kind of changed everything.

Finn meant what he said to Remy—that his dad didn’t spill anything confidential. But he had dropped an information nugget. Apparently, on nights when his non-lover was restless, she’d get a sketchpad out and draw him while he slept.

Da did not need to say another word after that.

Watching her mini freak-out because she imagined he was in harm’s way was oddly fun. He schooled his expression to remain neutral. She needed to get there on her own—without prodding from him. It was the only way for Remy to finally own her feelings.

“Are you worried about me?” His question was understated. Calm. Two things Remington Bisset couldn’t locate at the moment without serious assistance.

“Of course, I’m worried about you, ya dumb shit!”

Her eyebrows rose. Confusion or amazement? He hoped a little of both.

“Why would you worry?”

She looked at him as if he was losing his mind. His heart started to thump heavily. They were so close—he could feel it. He mentally crossed his fingers and prayed he didn’t overshoot the runway with his needling.

“Are you serious? Why? Finn! Oh, my god.”

Her hands were waving, and she began stomping in a tight-assed back and forth. As she whirled, her incredibly thick mane of long black hair swirled around her shoulders.

She had an innate strength that did not lessen her devastating femininity. Remy imagined that hiding in clothes that made her nearly invisible somehow obscured the woman inside. She was wrong. He viewed her rugged wardrobe with patience and understood why she rarely let her legs see sunlight.

If he could, he’d buy the ASCAP rights to that damn Rod Stewart song and send it into obscurity where the reminder of what she’d suffered could never hurt her—ever again.

“I can’t have this,” she grumbled.

He needled a bit more. “Can’t have what?”

That was the straw that brought her camel to its knees.

“Can’t have you in danger because of me. Because I … need you.”

“You what?” Finn held his breath. He was certain this was it.

“Jesus Christ, Beantown! What the fucking fuck? I love you, okay? I can’t have it. You. Danger. Me. None of it.” She stopped pacing and dropped her face in her hands.

Now that it was out there, he was stunned. Flooded with fierce admiration for the incredible woman he loved more than life, Finn gave the meaningful moment space.

She loved him and actually said the words out loud.

Holy fuck.

He stood and gathered her in his arms. Relief course through him. Everything was going to be okay. They were still a hundred miles from making this thing work, but the truth was finally out there.

Now, for the first time, he could take the reins she refused to release. He’d figured out almost from the start that what Remington needed most of all was to let it go. To surrender. Not from weakness, but from strength. He knew it would take someone special to break through and be that man. The honor she allowed by letting him love her gave his entire life meaning.

There was no kissing and nothing overtly sexual about their embrace. He simply held tight.

She was his, and he was hers. Finally.

He pressed a kiss on her head and murmured softly, “You will never regret letting me in, babe. I promise. Love isn’t just a word, sweetheart. It’s everything. Thank you for trusting me.”

He was a little surprised by how tightly she clung. The implied yielding was a powerful turn-on. One that, for now, he had to keep tightly controlled.

A couple of minutes was all she could handle, and he was perfectly fine with that—especially when she stuck her tongue out at him when she pushed away.

“Do not imagine this gives you the upper hand.” She sniffed, crossed her arms, and tapped her foot so adorably that he had to laugh.

Well, he thought, she might not be ready for more—not yet—but they made it to the other side of the quicksand, and that meant they were now in flirtation territory and on the way to seduction junction.

“Full disclosure, babe.” He motioned at her body language and smirked. “The snotty thing turns me on.”

Her gasp and startled expression lit up his soul with joy. Messing with Remy was definitely going to be the highlight of his world from here on out.

She came back quickly, though, and got a laugh out of him. “Just so you know, I have wicked MMA skills.”

Finn acted affronted. “Are you threatening to kick my ass?”

Her nonchalant shrug was tinged with amusement. Well, okay then. He was going to let it go but …

In a nanosecond, he dropped her to the floor on her back with both hands in his grip and pressed into the carpet above her head. She tried to shake him off, but he was much bigger and had no problem keeping the advantage.

In the midst of the struggle to escape, she managed to wrap her legs around his waist and hang on like a boa constrictor. He barked with delight and surprised her by quickly standing. Now upright, they wrestled around the room, banging into furniture and knocking over a lamp.

Oh, and they were howling with laughter the whole time.

She grabbed at him and pulled on his hair. Her tight grip on his waist made it impossible to shake her off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun.

Things might have stayed in the safety zone, but dammit if she didn’t put her mouth on his neck and bite like a vampire desperate for human flesh.

Shit. He was just a guy, and a guy who hadn’t had sex in a time span counted in years.

He slammed her against the wall and ground his pelvis into her spread thighs. She increased the grip on his head in response. There wasn’t anything else he could do after that except kiss her until she trembled.

Their tongues were engaged in a slow, seductive duel. He and Remington had a strong kissing game. A year of doing nothing but that made them pros. But her admission and his desire messed with his head and made him want more.

He shuddered and groaned into her mouth when she sucked on his tongue. She writhed just a bit. He pressed against her, holding her body in place, and deepened the kiss as his fingers slid up her torso and cupped her breast. The soft mound filled his hand. She moaned. He was certain this was what heaven felt like.

They continued the intoxicating make-out session while Finn took full advantage of her subtle surrender. He wanted to feel her warm skin but knew if he went too far, too fast, she’d be a mess. So he kept his groping in over-the-clothes territory.

“What’s that noise?” she asked in a husky whimper after tearing her mouth from his.

Noise? He breathed deeply and reluctantly stepped back so she could slide down his body and land on her feet.

“Fuck,” he murmured with their foreheads touching. The desire to take his cell phone and smash it into a million pieces made him scowl.

Fishing into his pocket, he found the offending noise and pulled it out. “What?” he barked into the phone.

It was Barry wanting to know where the hell he was. Pete’s needed him to manage the kitchen during the dinner hour.

“Dude,” Barry teased. “Feed your girlfriend and then get your ass back here! Manny just took a swing at Fred over some buttermilk. Come on, man. You know my kitchen talents are limited to cans of Spaghetti-Os and toaster oven chicken nuggets.”

He winced and glanced at Remy’s face. She had a freshly mauled look that pleased him to no end.

“Are we in trouble?” she whispered with just enough sarcasm to make him grin like an idiot. They really were making headway if she was willing to crack jokes.

“Sorry, partner. Remy was being a shit. Said she didn’t like the fried chicken I brought over and made me go get her a Big Mac.”

Barry roared with laughter while his lady punched him in the arm. Hard.

He grabbed her ass and pulled her against him. She briefly struggled and then laughed.

“He’s a lying sack of shit, Barry!” she yelled while he pulled the phone from her reach. “He was watching reruns of Reba!”

While kidding around was great fun, he had responsibilities and a business to run. Ending the call, he switched gear and got serious.

“Where are we sleeping tonight?”

His question was bold and direct. She didn’t even try to deflect. Thank god they were past playing games.

“I have to be at the garage by O-dark-thirty. Caravan of Humvees heading out for a training exercise. Do you mind?”

“Nope. Whatever works, babe. I’ll grab FiFi and circle back later. You want me to bring anything? Made chocolate peanut butter bars. Bella’s recipe. Interested?”

“Did you really have to ask?”

He kissed her soundly, told her he loved her, accepted that she just blushed, and nodded and then headed back to work.