An hour later, Vivian stretched her arms over her head, working out the kinks in her neck and back. She and Logan had reviewed the pictures of the major occupants of the suspect’s house and formulated a basic plan of action: she would keep an eye on the neighbors and catalog their comings and goings, including any cars, license plates, and descriptions.

Logan had a part-time job at the small airfield as a mechanic, just enough hours to provide cover until the covert part of his mission kicked in, which was something he did not divulge, assuring her that it was best for her not to know. He would be running often at night and had intel equipment coming that he was pissed was not already here.

He also let her know that as soon as he was able to get inside, he would smuggle out samples for her to test, so she needed to get her supplies in the shed and see if there was anything else she deemed essential.

With a simple plan in place, she glanced down, realizing she was still in her flannel pajamas. Logan had just finished changing the locks on the doors, re-entering the house when she jumped up, hustling toward the bathroom, as she called out, “Dibs on the shower!”

Watching her jog down the hall, he was unable to keep the smile from tugging at his lips. Once the bathroom door was closed, he sat and leaned back in his chair, his mind in motion as he rethought their plans. Closing his eyes for a moment, he wondered if there was any chance for this mission to succeed. Hearing the water in the shower turn on, his mind slid down another path—one where he imagined her body, wet and naked.

Jerking his eyes open, he stood quickly, forcing those thoughts away. Fuckin’ hell…she’s a pretend wife…a scientist…not some girl for me to pant over. Grimacing, he thought of her innocence in this type of situation and wondered about the bastard who set her up on this mission, based on her heritage alone. The mere thought that she could be in danger caused him to stand abruptly and head into the kitchen, where he gripped the counter, his knuckles turning white. Not on my watch, he vowed, knowing part of his mission was keeping her safe.

Inside the bathroom, Vivian lathered her body and quickly washed her hair, unsure how long the hot water would last. Closing her eyes as the water sluiced over her, the image of her fake husband filtered through her mind. Tall. Dark. Handsome. A giggle erupted as she realized how conventional her description sounded. How about towering, somber, athletic? Soaring, shadowy, muscular? More likely glowering, angry, irritable. Shaking her head, she knew there were infinite ways to describe him, each one accurate. Rising her hair, she turned the water off, knowing it was time to turn off her physical attraction to Logan as well.

It was time to do her job and do it well. Determined to accomplish that feat, she dressed for the day, sure that nothing could go wrong.

* * *

With Logan gone into Fairbanks to check on his helicopter, Vivian sat by the window waiting for a chance to meet the neighbors. Reading on her eReader, she lifted her head to see a woman coming out of the house next door. Hurrying to her car, she intended to take out a bag she had left in her trunk for the express purpose of having an excuse to go outside. From a distance, it was hard to see if the woman was Farrah, but she was desperate to make contact as soon as possible.

“Hello!” she shouted over to the woman.

Vivian observed the woman looking up quickly, her gaze jumping from Vivian to her house and then back to her again, before a short smile crossed her face as she nodded slightly.

She began walking toward her, smiling widely in return. Approaching the woman, she now recognized as Farrah, she was surprised as she took in her modern dress, her hijab her only concession to her Muslim faith. The young woman was wearing a black skirt and white blouse. A beautiful leather belt cinched her waist, but most surprising were the stylish leather boots on her feet.

Feeling frumpy in her jeans and heavy sweatshirt, she nonetheless thrust her hand out. “I guess we’re neighbors. I’m Vivian. My husband and I just moved in.”

“And I am Farrah,” the woman said, shaking her hand delicately. “I live here with my husband also.”

“The houses seem nice here, although kind of old. But we just got married and the rent fits our budget.”

Nodding, Farrah agreed. “We have not been here long, but I have tried to make it our home.”

“We should get together sometime,” she blurted, her heart pounding as she wondered what Logan would think of that plan. They had not had time to work out all the details of what she was supposed to do when she met the neighbors and she realized, belatedly, she had no clue what she was doing.

Farrah’s eyes widened at the suggestion. Thinking she was going to deny her outright, Vivian pressed, “We’ve got a grill out back that I’d like to try sometime. Um…you and your husband could join us.”

“That is very kind of you to offer,” Farrah said, her smile not reaching her eyes. “But I will have to speak to my husband. He…does not often have time to socialize. His work with university students takes up a great deal of time.”

“Well, he has to eat sometime, doesn’t he?” she asked, with a returning smile. “But if not, then we can get together for coffee or tea or something.”

Her smile faltered, but Farrah replied, “Of course. It would be an honor to have tea with you sometime.”

A slight movement in her peripheral vision caught Vivian’s eye. A man looking out of the window, his hand pulling the curtain partially back. Too far away to determine if he was one of the men in the pictures, she continued smiling at Farrah.

Hearing Logan’s truck rumbling down the road, she quickly stepped back. “Oops, I need to get lunch started. I’ll talk to you soon. Nice to meet you, Farrah.”

“You too, Vivian.”

Hurrying back to her car, she reached inside the trunk to take out the bag she had placed there earlier. Seeing Logan’s narrowed eyes on her, she smiled as he parked next to the house. Rushing over to him as he stepped out of the truck, she threw her arms around his neck while giving a little hop, causing him to catch her as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

Caught off guard, Logan’s arms encircled her waist quickly, surprised as she plastered her front to his.

“Hey, sweetie!” she called out, her face joyful.