Nick did something unexpected. He reached out and covered the top of her hand with his. "I'm on it." The steadiness of his gaze confirmed just that. "Trust me."
Jordan took a deep breath, realizing that she did trust him. She didn't know Nick all that well, and frankly didn't like—well, mostly—what she did know, but she had no doubt that he could handle whatever problem was thrown their way. So she left her hand where it was, covered by his.
When the Town Car finally came to a stop in front of her house, she resisted the urge to immediately jump out. Instead, she waited with forced patience as the driver handed her a clipboard with a bill for her to sign. She quickly added in a tip, scrawled her signature, and gave him back the clipboard. "Thank you."
"Any time, Ms. Rhodes."
She opened her door and stepped out of the car without waiting for the driver—a minor breach in Town Car etiquette, but she had more important things to focus on than playing the part of the pampered rich girl. Being followed by unknown villains and engaging in domestic espionage tended to put one's priorities in perspective.
She met Nick at the sidewalk—he'd gotten out of the car as soon as she had—and he took her arm and led her toward her house. She saw him look casually past her, to the street.
"Keep walking at a regular pace," he said low in her ear. "We're just a regular couple, coming home from a party."
"Could you please tell me what's going on?" she whispered back.
"A car turned onto the street and parked a few houses down. The driver turned off the car but didn't get out. People don't usually sit in cars with the heat off on cold nights like this." He opened the front gate and led her toward the stairs. "You're rushing, Jordan."
Yes, true, she had picked up the pace. She began heading up the steps to her front door. "It's thirteen degrees outside," she whispered impatiently. "And we're supposed to be on a date on Valentine's Day, remember? Maybe my character is simply eager to get to the hot sex part."
Nick caught her at the top of the steps and pulled her closer. "That's not a bad idea."
Jordan's heart began to race faster. "What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly.
His eyes burned into hers, brilliant green in the moonlight, and there was no mistaking his intentions. "It is our cover, after all."
"You're going to kiss me here? Now?" she whispered.
He raised his hand to cup her cheek. "Yes. So make it look good, Rhodes."
Without another word, his mouth came down on hers.
At first, the kiss was light and teasing as his lips gently brushed against hers. It took Jordan a half second to respond, but then she realized something: he was playing with her. Trying to take control with his whole I'm-in-charge, Mr. FBI Agent routine.
The hell with that, she thought. If there was going to be kissing involved in this undercover operation, she was going to do it right.
She slid her arms around Nick's neck and pressed closer. She parted her lips and kissed him back, softly melding their mouths together. She felt him freeze—ha, ha, he hadn't been expecting that—then suddenly—
—He was kissing her. Really kissing her. And ... wow. With his hand still holding her cheek, his tongue circled around hers in hot sweeps that made her breath catch. They kissed until the cold February air turned warm around them and crackled with electricity. She sank her fingers into Nick's hair, and had to fight back a gasp when he moved her backward and pinned her firmly against the front door.
Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed for the small silver purse that dangled from her wrist and rummaged inside. He pulled her keys out, reached past her hip, and fumbled with the lock. She felt the door give, and in a breathless bundle they stumbled inside the house.
Nick slammed the door behind them, and neither of them moved. He trapped her between his arms, his lips barely an inch from hers as he stared down into her eyes. "Do you kiss all your fake boyfriends like that?" he asked raggedly.
"Considering you're the only fake boyfriend I've ever had, yes," she panted. When he waited for her to say more, she put on her best innocent face and tried to sound nonchalant. "What? You told me to make it look good, so I did."
Nick's phone rang from inside his coat, interrupting them.
WITH THE DISTRACTION of the ringing phone, Jordan slid out from under Nick's arms and walked into the kitchen. He watched her leave, noticing that she touched her fingers to her lips as she turned the corner. He could still feel his own lips there, could still taste the intoxicating flavor of her. He might've known zilch about cabernet, pinot, and all the other wine varietals, but her kiss was something he'd have no problem describing: luscious, rich, and tantalizing.
His phone rang again.
Right, he had work to do. A minor undercover assignment he was supposed to be focusing on. He pulled his phone out and saw that it was Pallas calling. "We're back at Jordan's house," he answered. Thank God the microphone taped to his chest was well out of range of the receiver, or the guys in the van would've gotten an earful moments ago. "Tell me everything."
As Pallas filled him in on the details of the conversation they'd intercepted between Eckhart and Mercks, Nick slid off his coat, loosened his tie, and unbuttoned his shirt. He ripped the microphone and tape off his chest. "We were followed here by a black sedan," he said after Jack finished. "I wasn't able to get a look at the driver. Are you still in the van?"
"I left Reed and Jansen there. I just arrived at the office, and we're working up a full profile for you as we speak," Jack said. "Davis is on his way. He wants you to call in."
Thirty seconds later, Nick had his boss on the line.
"Pallas filled me in on everything," Davis said. "I'm still trying to decide who's going on my shit list for this mess."
"Xander Eckhart is at the top of mine," Nick said.
"Well, I can't yell at him," Davis grumbled. "How about Huxley? He's been working this up for months; he's the one who picked Jordan Rhodes. A heads-up that there's a romantic connection between her and Eckhart would've been appreciated."
"There's no romantic connection," Nick said. "Don't blame it on Huxley—we had no way of knowing this was going to happen."
"You know what it means now that Eckhart has someone following you."
Yes, he did. Nick had known what it meant the moment Pallas had called him at Eckhart's party. "It means that I'll be playing the part of Nick Stanton longer than expected."
Davis paused. "Obviously, you can't go to New York tomorrow."
Nick pinched between his eyes. "I know."
"I'm really sorry, Nick. I roped you into this and now you won't be able to make your mother's party."
"It comes with the job. You know that, Mike—you did this for years."
"I did. And I also know that after a while, it takes its toll. Six years of nearly back-to-back undercover assignments is a long time. If you weren't so good at it, I would've reassigned you already."
But he was good at it. Nick changed the subject. "What do we know about this Mercks guy Eckhart has following us?"
"We ran a background check and cross-referenced him in our database. He owns a private investigation firm in the Loop. Seems to have a lot of wealthy clientele."
"Any connections to Roberto Martino?"
"None that we've found. He might be nosy and highly inconvenient, but I don't think he poses any threat."
Nick was relieved to hear that. That last thing he'd wanted was anyone connected to Roberto Martino camped outside Jordan's house.
"There's one final matter we need to discuss," Davis said.
"Jordan."
"You understand what this development with Eckhart means in terms of her continued involvement in the investigation?" Davis asked.
"Yes."
"Does she?"
"Not yet," Nick said. "I'll explain everything to her as soon as we hang up."
"She's not going to like it."
No, she isn't. And it wasn't exactly a conversation Nick looked forward
to, but he had a job to do and this was part of it. He and Davis discussed a few outstanding matters related to the investigation, his boss wanting to be certain they were on the same page. Then Nick hung up and went into the kitchen, ready to be the bearer of bad news.
Fourteen
JORDAN STOOD AT the counter while she waited, checking her e-mail on her iPhone. She did this more out of habit than interest, since the only person she wanted to hear anything from right then was Nick.
She set the phone off to the side when he walked into the kitchen. Her eyes lingered momentarily on the shirt buttons he'd undone at his throat. He'd loosened his tie, too, and wore the shirt casually open-necked, giving her a peek of smooth, tan skin.
She refocused. Bad guys outside her house. Not good. "Now can you tell me what's going on?"
"Your friend Xander is causing all sorts of problems." Nick told her about the private investigator Eckhart had hired to follow him.
Jordan sank into one of the bar stools. "I just assumed Xander was flirting with me, like he does with everyone else. I didn't think he was actually serious. In my defense, the entire time I've known him, he's never dated any woman over the age of twenty-five. I assumed that was some kind of rule of his."
"Apparently, he's willing to break the rules in your case," Nick said. "And now we deal with it. Which brings me to my next point: since I'm being followed, I can't go back to my place tonight. Obviously, there can't be any connection between Nick Stanton and Nick McCall. Which means I'm stranded here."
Jordan raised an eyebrow. "I see."
"Just for tonight," he told her. "By tomorrow morning my office will have worked out alternate arrangements."
She checked her watch. "It's after midnight already. You FBI guys move fast."
"We have to, given our predicament. That is, unless our characters were thinking about moving in together." He grinned. "I didn't think we were ready for that step yet."
"I think that's good thinking on your part. What happens after tomorrow?"
"Well, see, that's where things get a little interesting," Nick said. "Now that I'm being followed, we can't give Eckhart a reason to suspect that anything is off. Which means that until we get the evidence we need through the electronic surveillance, I have to remain undercover. So for the time being, I'll continue to be Nick Stanton, a real estate investor who rents properties to college kids and people in their early twenties. And who also is ... dating you."
It took a moment for this to sink in.
"We have to pretend to be dating?" Jordan asked. "As in, for more than just tonight?"
"Yes."
She couldn't help but feel as though she'd been given the bait-and-switch routine. "My agreement with the FBI was a one-shot deal. Now you're changing the game on me."
"Xander Eckhart changed the game," Nick emphasized. "On all of us. Trust me, if we had known about his interest in you, we never would've come to you with this deal."
Jordan bit her lip, still feeling guilty about that.
"I'm not blaming you," he said. "I'm just trying to explain why we're in this position. After tonight, it will look odd if you and I are never seen together again. And not looking odd is the number one rule in undercover work."
"Okay. Let's say that I agree to this. How long would we have to pretend to be dating?" Feeling thirsty, she got up and walked over to one of the cabinets. She pulled out two glasses. "Water?"
Nick nodded yes. "I can't give you an exact time frame, although I don't expect it to be very long. A week? Maybe a little longer? However long it takes for us to get the evidence we need through the bugs in Eckhart's office."
Jordan filled both glasses with water from the refrigerator, then set one in front of him. "So walk me through this. What would I have to do as the supposed girlfriend of a real estate investor who rents properties to college kids and people in their twenties?" She took a sip of her water.
"You'd need to have lots and lots of sex with me."
Jordan choked on the water and began coughing.
Nick blinked innocently. "No good?"
Her watering eyes undoubtedly lessened the effect of her glare.
Nick smiled. "The answer is that we need to act, from all outward appearances, as if we're a real couple. Xander thinks that you like me enough to spend five thousand dollars to bring me to his party, and that I'm similarly smitten enough to cancel work plans to be with you on Valentine's Day. If that was all true, what would you do next?"
"I don't know ... I'd probably start by calling my girlfriends and meeting them for brunch tomorrow to tell them all about you," Jordan said.
"There you go."
She pointed for emphasis. "No way. You need my help, and ... well, I agreed, so I'll help you. But it stays between us. No bringing my friends and family into this."
Nick thought this over. "All right. To the extent we can reasonably keep your friends and family isolated from this, I'll go along with that. It's not like I want to lie to them, either." He turned oddly serious. "Speaking of family, there's something else I have to tell you. And you're not going to like it."
Not exactly Jordan's favorite lead-in. "What?"
He rubbed his hand over his jaw and sighed. "You're really not going to like it."
"Okay, now you're making me nervous."
He looked her dead in the eyes. "We can't release your brother on Monday."
The words fell like stones between them.
Jordan said nothing for a moment. On this subject, there would be no jokes or bullshit between them. "Tell me the truth: did you ever intend to release Kyle, or did you simply make that up to get me to take you to Xander's party?"
"Releasing your brother was always part of the plan," Nick said. "And it still is. Just not yet. Now that Eckhart has his eye on you and me, we have to proceed cautiously. Letting your brother inexplicably walk out of prison fourteen months ahead of schedule could lead the wrong person to ask the right questions."
"You didn't worry about letting Kyle out early before."
"Before, you didn't have a man sitting in a car outside your house, watching us and running background checks on me."
Jordan folded her arms across her chest. "Maybe so. But my brother and I are getting the raw end of this deal. Kyle is the reason I agreed to help you. I've done everything you asked. I've even agreed to continue to pretend to be your girlfriend, which goes well beyond the original plan. And now that it's time for the FBI to uphold its end of the deal, conveniently, there's a problem."
"I understand your frustration, Jordan," Nick said quietly. "Trust me, this is not an ideal situation for anyone."
His subdued tone took the fight right out of her. And knowing Nick, that had been his intent. She was angry and annoyed—with him, even though the rational part of her realized this wasn't his fault; with the FBI in general; with Xander; even with Kyle. But mostly what she felt right then was tired.
She ran her hands through her hair. "I think I should show you where you'll be sleeping tonight. It's getting late."
AFTER LEADING NICK to the guest bedroom, Jordan left him with a polite nod good night. He heard her retreating footsteps on the hardwood floors of the hallway, then a quiet click as she shut her bedroom door.
Clearly, she wasn't happy about the news concerning her brother, and Nick couldn't say he blamed her. She was getting the raw end of the deal with the FBI, but sometimes that was how things went. That's why they'd chosen her, after all. With her brother's freedom at stake, she wasn't going anywhere—no matter how unhappy she was that they'd changed the terms of their deal. The special agent in him knew all this and was glad the operation hadn't completely tanked because of the curveball Eckhart had thrown at them that evening.
The man in him, however, felt like shit.
Nick closed the door and checked out the guest bedroom. His eyes skimmed over the king-sized bed with its plump, welcoming pillows and silk blue comforter. Through a doorway on his right, he found a private bathroom de
signed in creamy marble and well stocked with virtually every toiletry imaginable. It certainly beat the eight-by-eight-foot cell he'd slept in as part of his last undercover assignment.
Getting comfortable, he slipped off his suit jacket and made one last call for the night.
"So? Is Jordan on board?" Davis asked.
"Of course. Eckhart's not going to slip away that easily. But there's a catch." Nick eased onto the bed. "I'm calling in that favor you owe me. The one that just tripled in magnitude because of this mess you roped me into."
Davis sounded surprised. And a little suspicious. "What kind of favor?"
"Do we still have Agent Griegs in play?" Nick asked.
"Yes. Why?"
"This will involve him, too."
Davis sighed. "I'm not going to like this favor, am I?"
"Probably not," Nick said. "But I debated between this and having you call my mother to explain that it's your fault I can't make it to her sixtieth birthday party. You pick. But I should warn you: my mother is Italian. New York Italian, which is like being five hundred percent Italian."
Davis swore under his breath. "The hell with that. I'll get ahold of Griegs."
Fifteen
NICK WOKE UP the next morning not immediately recognizing his surroundings. An occupational hazard. When he felt the silk comforter brush against his bare chest in a caress, he remembered.
Jordan.
He wondered how angry she'd still be that morning. If he were an introspective person, one of those in-touch-with-hidden-emotions types—aka a woman—he would probably take note of the fact that it was much harder to blow off her dislike of him than it had been merely six days ago. And, if he were an introspective person, he might also ask himself what he'd been doing by calling in that favor with his boss last night.
Thank goodness, then, that he wasn't such a person.
Because if he were, he would also have to tell himself to shut up and stop asking so many damn questions. He had an assignment to focus on.
He sat up and listened for any sound outside the guest bedroom, wondering if Jordan was awake. He checked the clock on the nightstand, saw that it was just past seven A.M., and figured she was still asleep after the late night they'd had.