Nikki ran a hand through her hair, then approached the net to shake hands with their opponents.

Travers shook her hand with little enthusiasm.

“Good game,” Ralph congratulated her.

“Thanks,” she replied.

“You should come back for lessons,” Ralph told Indiana. “You’ve got natural talent. And you sure know the rules of the game.”

“Thanks,” Indy said with a half smile.

Nikki tried not to lose herself in his characteristic smirk. Maybe his mouth was just built that way, shaped to tease.

“I’ll walk you back,” Indy said, turning to fix her in his dark gaze.

She nodded.

Travers was already headed off anyway. He wouldn’t be making any small talk with her today. She’d thought letting him win might loosen his tongue a little, but since the events between his son and Honey, Travers had been more closed off than ever.

“See you,” Ralph said, heading up the hill to greet another student.

Indy gestured to the path back toward the lawn and she followed.

“That was fun,” she said. “I didn’t know you were interested in tennis.”

“I’m not,” he replied.

He was staring straight ahead in a rather dark way.

Indiana was always relaxed. This was something new.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.” His voice was icy. But he kept walking, his long legs setting the pace just a touch faster than Nikki found comfortable.

“Why not?”

He stopped suddenly.

“You weren’t there to play tennis,” he said simply. “You were there to be near Travers. You don’t go to church on Sundays. You go somewhere else. And you know too much about undercover work. So I’m only going to ask once. Who are you, really, and what are you doing?”

Well, there it was. Maybe the boys from Aerie weren’t as clueless as everyone thought.

In the beginning, she had expected the others might ask too many questions about Vanderbilt, grill her about her interest in tennis, or ask to go to church with her.

But as it turned out, being undercover was easy. Too easy.

She just had to show up, not make too much noise, and if anyone asked her something too personal, turn the conversation back to them.

The long and short of it was that no one actually wanted to talk to her about her school or her religion.

And no one cared why she was interested in tennis enough to ask a second time if she changed the subject.

So she had spent the summer quietly taking notes and reporting back and writing her pieces on Travers and the aliens every Sunday. It had been lonely, but it had been easy.

Well, it had been easy until now.

“You’re right,” she said, deciding then and there to open up, at least a little. “I mean, I am Nikki Fortune, but I’m not interested in tennis, and when I go to town on Sundays, it’s not to church.”

“Where do you go?”

“I can only tell you if you agree to keep my secret,” she said solemnly.

He gazed down at her, his dark eyes bright with interest. “Why would you trust me with your secret?”

There was something possessive about the way he looked at her.

Nikki felt an awareness spread through her body, and her cheeks grew warm.

“You’re trustworthy,” she said. “If you give me your word, I know you won’t break it.”

And it was true. He might be the jokester of the group, but he was a man of honor. She knew it to her bones.

“I’ll keep your secret,” he said, nodding slowly.

“I’m an investigative journalist, here to do a piece on Samuel Travers,” she said. “I think he’s involved with insider trading.”

Indiana’s eyes widened, although she suspected he had little idea what insider trading was.

“I know it’s shocking,” she said. “I’m sorry I had to lie to you about what I was doing here. And I never wanted to lie to the girls. It’s just, in the beginning, I didn’t know if I could trust them. And now it would just be weird to tell them about it.”

She tried not to think about the fact that she was still lying. She wasn’t only working on a piece about Travers. She was hoping to write about Indy and his brothers too.

“Does anyone suspect your true purpose?” he asked.

She studied his eyes for a moment - so earnest and trusting, even in the face of her confession.

“I don’t think so,” she said, shaking her head and turning her focus back to Travers. “He’s barely talked business in front of me at all. The whole thing is turning out to be a bust.”

She could see the wheels turning in Indy’s head.

“Why do you think he hasn’t talked business in front of you?”

“Well, today his friend wasn’t there,” she said. “Sometimes they do talk shop a little. But in general I think it’s sort of a good old boys club.”

“Who are the old boys?” Indy asked. “What makes them so good?”

Nikki choked back a laugh.

“Good old boys is kind of a slang term for men who network with each other, usually because they are all the same race and social status. The implication is that they help each other stay on top, and by doing so, they keep women and minorities at the bottom of the pecking order.”

“That should have a different name,” Indiana observed. “Good old boys sounds like it should be a positive thing. Like the famous Duke brothers of Hazzard County. They were simply making their way, the only way they knew how.”

“Yeah,” Nikki admitted. “Anyway, I think Travers is unlikely to talk about the stock market in front of me, not on the court at least. I’ll bet he talks about it when he plays poker, though.”

“Then why don’t you play poker?”

“It’s kind of a guy thing too,” Nikki said.

He nodded, but made no comment.

“Anyway, I’m sure you have to get to work,” Nikki said, feeling nervous.

“Yes,” he said. “Let’s walk together.”

They continued on to the lawn to where Marshall, the guitar instructor sat in a music circle, his long blond ponytail dancing in the light breeze as he listened to his students strum away.

“They are not skilled,” Indiana observed.

“No,” Nikki agreed. “But they’re happy, aren’t they?”

“Is that the idea?” Indy asked. “To get away from their work and their cares?”

Nikki nodded. She loved the idea of getting away. If only that were her actual reason for being here.

“Maybe you’ll come back here someday,” Indiana said, as if reading her mind. “You could come and take guitar lessons and relax.”

Nikki laughed.

“What?” Indiana pretended to be shocked. “You don’t want to play the guitar?”

“I guess not,” she replied.

“What do you want?” He sounded oddly earnest.

What do you want?

It was a strange question, not one that people asked, though of course it was the most important question of all.

What she wanted was happiness, the prestige of being a real journalist, permission to relax and enjoy the fruits of her labor.

“Lunch,” she said.

Indiana laughed. “Fine, come have lunch at the lodge. I’ll have them make you something special.”

“No, I’m good,” she said. “Just keep my secret, that’s all I ask.”

She stopped in her tracks, looking up at him, studying his face for any sign that he might betray her.

Maybe she had been foolish to expose herself. But he was obviously tracking her down anyway. Heaven only knew what conclusions he might have come to on his own.

“I will keep your secret,” he promised, taking her hand.

Nikki tried to ignore the tingle of electricity that ran down her whole arm at his touch.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Before she had time to register what he was doing, Indiana leaned down and brushed her lips lightly with his.

Then he let go of her hand, turned and strode into his cabin.