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safety to strangers who she hadn’t vetted or to a surveillance system that could be hacked.

Both men stopped and stared at her as if she had unbuttoned her blouse and exposed herself.

“It isn’t necessary. There are surveillance cameras and heat and motion sensors on every inch of the outside grounds.” Jonathan’s condescension quickly became grating.

“The hundred-foot cliffs are a solid barrier to possible assault by sea.”

The ocean side of the villa was all glass except for the supporting beams optimizing the view of the Pacific.

“The windows are specially tinted to prevent the paparazzi from using helicopters to invade Ms. Storm’s privacy.”

“I’m glad to hear that surveillance is in place, but I never rely solely on tech.” She smiled sweetly. She didn’t try to act impressed by Jonathan’s reassurances and didn’t care that she interrupted the men’s tech bonding.

 â€śI can disengage the system once Jonathan leaves so you can do your thing.” Reeves’s eyes lit up with amusement.

Thank God, Reeves was a quick study and only needed a few minutes to master the system; otherwise, she might have hurt Jonathan if he didn’t stop talking. All she wanted was to get out of her wrinkled business suit and uncomfortable heels and into her runners and sweats.

“I usually prepare dinner for Ms. Storm and her guests.”

“Thank you, Jonathan, but Ms. Wilson is a gourmet cook and likes control of the kitchen. Plus, we’ve kept you later than usual.”

Reeves’s face and voice never betrayed his big fat lie. She pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing. Sure, she was a gourmet chef and a pro-basketball player. During travel, Darcy usually made do with nuts, protein bars, and a dark chocolate bar—or two or three—that she always had packed in her bag.

“I’m that way myself. I hate interruptions when I’m creating.”

She nodded at Jonathan, knowing he wouldn’t wait for a reply.

“Since you’re a chef, you’ll appreciate the kitchen.”

Reeves subtly widened his eyes. “I’m sure Ms. Wilson will be thrilled to hear about the details of the kitchen. Leave the tech talk to the men. Be warned. Once she gets started on her sauces, it’s a real snooze fest.”

Reeves Hewitt was a dangerous man. There were loads of men with beautiful faces and bodies but not many with his twisted humor. Not many men could tease her and not get their asses kicked. Instead, she found his devilish grins and absurd comments seductive. She needed some distance. If only she had packed a bathing suit, she’d do laps safely in the water, protected from doing something really stupid.

Reeves, with his bag swung over his shoulder, followed Jonathan into the kitchen.

Reeves slowed his pace. Looking over his shoulder, he whispered conspiratorially out of Jonathan’s earshot. “Have you seen any of Merissa Storm’s movies?” And then there was the grin that Darcy couldn’t look away from. Reeves was a striking man in repose, but his hard angles eased when animated, and his coal-black eyes brightened from an inner fire.

She found herself grinning back, leaning toward him and his diabolical enjoyment. Heat flooded her body, and her breath quickened at his closeness.

Something must have shown in her eyes or in the flush stealing across her chest and neck.

Reeves halted with an arrested look. “I feel the same way.” His voice took on a dark, edgy tone.

She was weakening. So what if they had nothing in common? Who cared? She didn’t want to marry the guy. She had goals, aspirations, and a lot of adventures ahead. What would be wrong with two consenting adults offering each other comfort after the day they had experienced? And Reeves was the kind of man who would offer her comfort, not just impressive orgasms. He betrayed his kindness in the hours they were together. The way he spoke affectionately about his sister, his emotional reaction to his friend’s death, and the gentle way he had woken her on the plane. No one ever treated her carefully or tenderly as if she was important or fragile.

She hadn’t had been in a relationship for a while. Now, it was mainly hookups with men like herself who needed to blow off steam from the dangerous work. The CIA pushed relationships amongst their employees. It made keeping your secret life less difficult if your husband was also an officer. She got together with a fellow officer. It lasted for almost four months, her longest relationship, when they were both in DC. Once she got her assignment to Senegal, she ended it. Her career came first.

And there were no rules against fraternizing with Reeves. It wasn’t as if he was a suspect.

She’d never admit it, but holding onto the idea that he was a suspect had been a flimsy excuse to protect herself.

Jonathan, ignoring or oblivious to the sexual tension, showed her the induction cooktop, the blender for emulsions, and the liquid nitrogen tank. Who knew that you could cook with liquid nitrogen? The only use she knew was for creating explosions.

She was enjoying giving Reeves death stares every time Jonathan looked away. Her heart fluttered like a teenage girl’s at the way Reeves’s lips twisted into the smallest smile.

When Jonathan opened the refrigerator and freezer to show them how well-stocked it was, Darcy considered her escape options since she either had to knee Jonathan to shut him up or kiss Reeves. And neither were viable choices. But if she stood any longer in her high heels, she would detonate. As her brothers could attest, it was never a pretty sight when she lost control.

“Since Ms. Storm might decide to fly up from LA on a whim, I have to be prepared.”

Reeves’s heated glances weren’t helping her control. Neither was Jonathan’s demonstration of multiple machines to make coffee.

“Thanks, Jonathan. I think we can figure out the basics.” Reeves slid his Glock into the kitchen drawer closest to the front door when Jonathan had his back to them. She would have liked to have the handgun in her possession. This was a compromise that she could live

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