"No secrets, remember?" It was our promise to each other when we started the firm. It's how I know that Jason still does covert work and Tag has a sometimes on-again, mostly off-again affair with his ex-wife. Wilson...well, the no-secrets rule has weird asterisks when it comes to our resident spook. But he tells us what he can, and Jason vouches for the rest.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Why her?"

I can't help myself. And that's the problem. That's always the problem with relationships. They're a distraction. They make men weak.

"Fine, don't answer that. Is it out of your system?"

Memories from that first night we were called to the Reid estate slide forward in my mind, offering themselves up as if I need a reminder that Hailey's been under my skin for six long months. I don't. "Leave it alone."

"She's not your type."

I clench my fists, and shove them in my pockets so I don't punch him again. Jason's known me for eleven years. I know he's not talking about her curves, because in that respect, she's definitely my type.

He's talking about her heart. And he's right.

"You'll break her."

"I know. I'm not going to kiss her again." But that's not good enough, just saying it. I have to push her away, and I know exactly how to do it. "Really. I'll take care of it." By being a b.a.s.t.a.r.d. "Tell me about the plan of attack for Taylor."

Reluctantly, Jason lets me change the subject. He outlines the interview with People magazine-"the fewer words the better"-and the lawyers are already on retainer. Unless the Vice President was completely honest about the affair, it'll be likely that the House of Representatives would find a way to impeach him.

Taylor Reid, Washington party girl, might bring down the man who thought he was eighteen months away from being the next President.

It was a good thing the Reids didn't have any political aspirations, because they'd just destroyed their own political party with what would surely be a protracted scandal.

"Please tell me we have a plan to find other women he's slept with."

"Wilson's got his interns on it." Three computer nerds at Georgetown who'd latched on to our friend after he'd spoken to their cla.s.s. Whatever turned their crank.

"Not a bad day's work before lunch, then." I vaguely point at my desk, only now remembering I dropped my coffee. I swear under my breath and Jason laughs at me. "I'm not sorry I punched you."

He sobers up fast. I've said too much, because I'm restless and frustrated, but that's the thing about the brothers you choose. They forgive a lot, and they understand you better than you understand yourself. Thank Christ for that. "You can't start something with her, Cole. There's no way that ends well. I'll take a few more hits if that's what it takes for you to remember who you are."

"One step up from a hired gun." I can't keep the resentment out of my voice.

"We're fighting the good fight."

I shake my head. I'm not sure there's any good left in this world, except for in the beautiful delusions of the innocent. Like Hailey.

And that's why I need to break her heart now. Not because of what I am, but what I believe-and what I can't because I've seen too much.

Done too much.

Hurt too many.

Been hurt. I shove that thought away even as I recognize that's probably more true than all the other s.h.i.t. Hailey's the kind to care with a capital C. That the thought makes my hands tremble and my stomach turn is even more reason to slice the ribbons of want between us before she gets any crazy ideas.

-five-.

Hailey.

The last few days have spun past in a blur. Taylor's been on TV a lot, but the press has lost interest in me. I even went to work yesterday, and spent earlier today at the spa with my baby sister Alison.

We didn't call Taylor.

Alison wanted to. I gave her my best stink eye and she changed the subject.

Now I'm on a date, although Trevor Waters, junior advisor for the junior senator from Texas, has spent more time in the lobby on the phone than next to me in our seats at the Kennedy Center.

I know I'm privileged to be here, that this isn't a once in a lifetime experience for me. But I can't help long for more. Something hot and intense, but a little less f.u.c.ked up than whatever I'd flirted at with Cole.

This is a date set up by my well-meaning but not-really-thinking friend Becky. Just because Trevor and I both like opera doesn't make this a good idea. For one thing, it could only be a good idea if both of us were actually present on the date.

A date I'd gone all out for, even though my heart wasn't in it. Black velvet halter dress, tight through the waist, thanks to the best corset money can buy. My b.o.o.bs look great, not that Trevor would notice.

I sigh to myself. The truth is that he's missing in body. I'm checked out mentally. That's not better. I don't even care if he's into me, because even though he's attractive enough-tall, slim, nice haircut, good teeth-he's just not my type.

It's a sad state when my only nerves about going on a date are whether or not the press will hound me with annoying questions, and not whether or not there's going to be kissing at the end of the night.

I applaud with the rest of the attendees as the lights go up for intermission, then head out to the terrace in search of my absentee date. Or alcohol. I'll take whichever I find first.

It's cold outside, and I don't see Trevor anywhere. I head inside, hoping he can find me at the bar, when my skin p.r.i.c.kles with awareness. I sense Cole a moment before he speaks, and it bugs me how I suddenly don't feel alone. Annoyed. Alive and raging, sure. But no longer lonely. It's an awful trick my mind is playing on me, because if there's anyone who will abandon me, guaranteed, it's the man behind me.

"You've got your socialite rags on, Hailey."

I whirl around, telling myself it's to lay into him. How dare he slide that silky voice all over me like we're intimate. But when I collide with his gaze, I'm the one left doubting...because he sure looks at me like, at least on some level, we already are. My lips certainly remember something that felt like a h.e.l.l of a lot more than an accidental collision of mouths. My ears remember his filthy words lighting me up from the inside out.

He wants me. Why, I can't quite understand. How, when we don't even like each other, we can be ten feet apart and it already feels like we're halfway through foreplay...I don't understand.

I don't like not understanding. I don't like anything about this, especially the part where it ends. I like the absence of our vicious dance even less than the mess of it. How screwed up is that?

I square my shoulders and let my inner b.i.t.c.h take over my voice. "What are you doing here?"

He raises his eyebrows in vague disbelief. Well, okay. So he's wearing a tux. Clearly, he's here for the opera just like me. "I need to play this game for clients. Network. That kind of bulls.h.i.t. You've opted out of this life, so the bigger question is, what are you doing here?"

I bristle, because what the h.e.l.l does he know about the choices I've made? "I'm on a date. Wait. I told you I was coming here."

I didn't think it was possible for his liquid gold eyes to burn cold, but I was wrong. Cole hates that I'm on a date, and the thought gives me an illicit thrill. Good. He needs to know that not everyone jumps at his command. Not everyone is within his realm to control.

He steps closer. "Pretty romantic first date, the Kennedy Center."

"Who said it was a first date?"

"Since your date isn't at your f.u.c.king side, making you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, I should hope it's not a repeat."

He's not wrong. I don't say that, though. I don't say anything.

"Who's the f.u.c.k up?"

"None of your business."

"Does he kiss you like he could get drunk on your mouth?" He dips his gaze to my lips, which part as if on command. f.u.c.k off, lips, don't be difficult. I lick them in a nervous attempt to get my body back under my own control, but that just makes his pupils dilate. Like the promise of my mouth is enough to make him drunk.

I don't tell him I haven't kissed Trevor, and I won't be. Unfortunately for me, the bar for kissing has recently been raised to impossible heights.

I might need to become a nun. I shake my head and give him my haughtiest stare, left hand firmly on my hip. "That was a mistake."

He glares at me, like I'm making him be a jerk and he resents it. "Doesn't mean I don't want to do it again."

His words blast through me and I reach for the railing to steady myself. "Don't. I'm on a date, for Christ's sake."

He swallowed hard, and my gaze slides past him to a woman fast approaching. Holy s.h.i.t.

"You're not here alone, either."

"No."

She's beautiful, and I'm filled with irrational jealousy. I'd just finished telling him I was none of his business. But I selfishly still want him to be my guilty something. And the way she's sauntering over...my stomach turns. I tell myself not to ask the question, but it spills out anyway. "Who is she?"

"My girlfriend."

I didn't hear that right. I couldn't have, but when I meet his gaze, it's suddenly cold and unwavering.

"But you came over...No."

He lifts one eyebrow. "No?"

"You kissed me," I hiss under my breath. It sounds catty and I don't care.

He drops his voice, too, but it just sounds s.e.xy. "I kiss a lot of women, Hailey."

That doesn't sound s.e.xy. f.u.c.k him. It's my standard refrain. "Like, this week?"

I can't swallow and my mouth is dry. I can't believe I let him touch me, and now she's beside him. Blonde, thin, pale in a pretty way. Ugh. I hate her and hate myself for hating her. I smile and offer a hand. "Hi, I'm Hailey Reid."

"Penny Kristoff." Her grip is sure, and I want to ask her if she knows her boyfriend apparently kisses a lot of women, but I'm afraid I might vomit all over her Donna Karan gown if I open my mouth.

So instead I press my lips together and nod and smile through some lie Cole tells her about what we were talking about-a charity connection we discovered over the last few days, because "I'm a cheating sc.u.mbag who can't keep my tongue in my mouth" probably wouldn't go over well. I make a noncommittal noise when she asks me...something, and then finally my good for nothing date shows up and I escape.

The next hour pa.s.ses by in an angry blur. It's like there's a slideshow of our kiss playing over and over again in my head with an awful National Geographic narration. The alpha male, ever alert for an opportunity to rut with a willing female, pounces at the first sign of vulnerability.

By the time the performance is over, I'm beyond ready to go home, but there's a talk after the performance that Trevor wants to stay for. We file out to the foyer with everyone else.

"Would you like a gla.s.s of wine?" Trevor murmurs, touching my elbow.

I shake my head, then change my mind. Sure, whatever. "White, please."

I excuse myself to the ladies room where of course I run into Cole's girlfriend. Because Fate clearly hates me.

She's at the mirror, touching up her lipstick, and I decide to do the same. There's no way my bladder can perform while she's in the same room, and it was really just an excuse to get away from Trevor anyway.

"Lovely performances tonight," she says with an authentic smile. Sure, why shouldn't she smile? Blissfully ignorant of how gross her boyfriend is.

"Yes." I apply a careful layer of Barely Red, and as I do, she watches me. Not suspiciously. Not innocently. Something else I can't quite figure out is playing in her eyes. I cap the lipstick and tuck it away.

I've got two choices here. I can run and hide, or stick my toe in the water and find out what's what. It's very unlike me, but Cole's lit a spark inside me. It's dangerous and crazy, and I'm perilously close to not giving a f.u.c.k. "You're Penny, right?"

She steps closer, tipping her head to the side. "I am."

"Cole didn't mention you..." I leave that trailing. I don't want to be a b.i.t.c.h here. I'm done with him, so it doesn't matter-except it does. Ugh.

"No, he wouldn't." Her lips plump and curl at the corners, like she's got a secret that pleases her.

I don't want to get sucked in, but that smile has a million questions racing through my head. "What do you mean?"

Another secret smirk, and I want to smack her. No, I want to walk away, but I can't.

And then she turns and looks at me, and everything shifts slightly as her voice turns overtly friendly. "That's a great shade on you."

So much for me being brave. I take a mental step back into the protection of my ingrained graciousness. "Thank you. It's a favorite."

"I can see why Cole likes you." She leans this time, not actually moving closer, but the room feels smaller. And hotter. "You're luscious."

Whoa. "Pardon?"

Surely I've misheard her. But then she tugs her lower lip between her teeth and glances down my body, and nope, I'm pretty sure she said I was.... Wow. So maybe Cole and his girlfriend both kiss random women. That didn't make me feel better.

"You're very much his type." She says it almost under her breath, and I wish I could say that I don't like hearing that. I'd wondered, over the last hour, why he'd kissed me when he was with this woman. Of course now I wonder if he has some kind of fetish for thick thighs and soft b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

And since I don't like that idea at all, I feign my last vestige of ignorance. "Excuse me?"

She pinks up, finally cluing in to the fact that we're very much not on the same page. "You know..." she says softly. "Don't you?"

"No, I really don't." My voice is high and wavers a bit, but I stand my ground.

"Oh." She presses her lips together, pink cheeks now ruddy with embarra.s.sment. "Then let's blame this on champagne and a long work week."

I'm not sure I can. She knows something about Cole that I don't. h.e.l.l, what she knows about her boyfriend that I don't would probably fill a stadium. But right now, her words are ringing in my ears.

"Listen, this..." She lifts her hand and hovers her fingers between us for a minute before ever so lightly touching my collarbone and exhaling as she does. "I know he's difficult. But the way he was looking at you." She makes a warm humming noise. "I'd like to watch him f.u.c.k you."