Chapter Fifteen

“I’ve always said, ‘If you need Viagra, you’re probably with the wrong girl.’” Donald Trump

Gideon opened his eyes and winced.

Daylight streamed through the open curtains.

Where the hell was he?

And why the hell was he even having to ask that question?

He sat up. He was naked in a strange bed. Then it came back to him. The bar. The blonde. She wasn’t here now. He was alone.

He scrubbed a hand through his hair and winced. His scalp felt sensitive and there was a fierce ache behind his eyes. His gaze wandered around the room, settled on the glass on the bedside table. He picked it up and sniffed, but all he could smell was whisky.

Too much to drink?

Not a chance.

He had a vague memory of her holding his hand as he fell asleep, but that was all they had done.

What the fuck?

He got out of bed. His pants were folded on the chair and he grabbed them and dragged them on, then sat on the bed and pulled on his socks and shoes. His shirt was nowhere to be seen. He crossed the room and opened the door, then came to an abrupt halt.

She was curled up on the sofa, long blonde hair over her face, still wearing the dress from last night.

She’d picked him up in a bar and brought him home and he’d…fallen asleep.

Yeah. Of course he had.

He walked silently across the floor, found his shirt on the back of the sofa and shrugged into it, then stood looking down at her for a minute. She didn’t stir.

Moving away, he wandered around the room; it was a nice place. What had she said she did? A computer programmer? She must be a good one to afford an apartment like this in this part of town. His jacket and gun still lay where he’d left them.

He opened a couple of closets, but found nothing to tell him anything about her. Her bag was lying by the front door where she’d dropped it. He picked it up and took it back with him to the chair opposite her and sat down. Her lashes were still closed, and her breathing was even. He tipped out the contents onto the coffee table in front of him. There was a phone and a small hand-held tablet computer. Both were password protected.

Then he found her ID. What the hell? He stared at it for a long time.

She’d said her name was Leia. Clearly, she’d lied.

Kate Buchanan. He knew that name, but the picture on the ID looked totally different from the woman lying opposite. Except for the eyes. She’d told him they were contact lenses. Again—she’d lied.

It came to him then just who she was. Stella’s baby sister.

He’d hardly noticed her back when he’d been engaged to Stella. She’d been a gawky, geeky teenager, tagging along behind them. If he remembered rightly, Stella had tried to set him up with her at the president’s party.

Why had Kate Buchanan lied about who she was?

And why had he slept like the dead?

Time to find out. He shoved the contents back into the bag, tucked it by the side of his chair, then sat back.

“Kate.” She didn’t move, and he spoke again, louder this time. “Kate!”

She sat up abruptly. As she stared at him, horror filled her wide eyes. Then she visibly pulled herself together. She put her hand up to her head, swung her legs around, and sat up straight. “Gideon. You’re awake.”

“I am. I slept like the dead. Very unlike me.”

“You just passed out. I was worried.”

“You didn’t think to get help?”

She licked her lips, glanced around. “I thought maybe you were…on something. Drugs or…” She shrugged. “If I’d called an ambulance, they might have reported it, and I didn’t want to get you into trouble.”

“Nice of you.”

She ignored the comment. “You seemed okay.”

“Other than being unconscious.”

“I thought it best to let you sleep it off. And look, here you are all…perky and awake.” She shrugged again. “Well, I suppose you’ll want to leave now.”

He crossed his legs, smiled. “No rush. Why don’t we spend a little while and get to know each other?”

“Oh no. I don’t want to take up your valuable time. I’m sure you have things to do, and really, you don’t want to know more about me. I’m boring. Honestly, you’re not the first man to fall asleep on me.”

“I don’t find you at all boring, Kate.”

“Oh, but—” She broke off, looked at him. “What did you call me?”

“Kate?”

“Why would you call me that?”

“Because it’s your name.” He reached down and picked up her bag. Her eyes opened even wider. She blinked.

“You looked in my bag?”

“I was curious.”

“That’s not…very nice.”

His lips twitched. At least he wasn’t bored. He was intrigued. And he had an urge to see her as she really was. Maybe that would spark his memory of her. “Why don’t you lose the disguise, Kate, and then we can sit down and have a chat about what happened last night.”

“Look, last night was just supposed to be fun, and I—”

“The disguise, Kate.”

Her lips tightened in a mutinous line. For a moment, he thought she was going to refuse, and he had no clue what his next move should be. What she’d done—lied about her identity to a member of the Secret Service—was a crime she could be locked away for. Though he wasn’t ready to take that route. Yet. He wanted to understand why she’d done what she’d done, and then he’d decide.

After tugging down the hem of her dress, she got to her feet, then cast him a dark look and stalked into the bathroom. “Nerfherder.” He heard the muttered word as she passed him.

What the hell was a nerfherder?

…

Kate stared at herself in the mirror. Why the hell had she fallen asleep with Gideon in the apartment? She should have been on her guard. Great savior of the world she was.

Auspex had set up a program for her on her tablet, so taking the retinal scan had been easy. All she’d had to do was pry open Gideon’s eyelids and place the tablet in front of his face, then let it do its stuff. According to her tablet, the scan had worked, and Gideon’s retina was now recorded.

Then she’d pulled the sheet up over him and left the room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

She hadn’t been able to upload the scan because she was offline; it would have to wait until she got to the office in the morning. She couldn’t risk doing it from here in case it was picked up by someone else.

With no clue how long the drugs would last, she’d had no choice but to wait. She wanted to know when he woke up so she could stop him wandering around her apartment and peering in places he shouldn’t peer. Like her purse. Instead, she’d fallen asleep.

Jesus. She was totally crap at this spy thing.

But like Gideon, she hadn’t been sleeping well lately—it was hard with the weight of the world on her shoulders. The relief had been too much, and she’d just closed her eyes for a second…

And woken to find him sitting opposite, staring at her.

She whipped the wig off her head and tossed it in the trash. Her hair was secured under a skullcap, and she peeled that off as well, then ran her fingers through, fluffing up the flattened strands. Next, she pulled off the thick false lashes, then splashed her face with cold water. When she looked at her image, she had eyeliner halfway down her face and lots of freckles. She wiped away the black stuff, and there she was in all her red-haired glory. Not even red, really, true ginger. Ugh.

The door in the opposite wall led directly to her bedroom and she hurried through, replacing the dress with jeans and a T-shirt.

She opened the door and stepped out just as he came in from the kitchen. Making himself at home. He carried two mugs of coffee but stopped when he caught sight of her. His lips twitched.

Yeah, because she was so freaking funny.

She scowled, and his smile was wiped away. He came toward her and handed her a coffee. It was black and strong, exactly the way she didn’t like it. She took it from him and placed it on the coffee table, then lowered herself to the sofa. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner she could get rid of him and be on her way to the office.

He sat down opposite and studied her. Somehow, she managed not to twitch.

“Freckles,” he said.

“Yup.”

“And red hair.”

He was so observant.

“I remember you now.”

“I’m hard to forget.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it, though the wig made a huge difference.” His gaze dropped over her figure. “Not to mention the padded bra. So,” he said, “are you going to tell me what this is about? Why the disguise?”

“I don’t suppose ‘no’ is an option.”

“Not unless you want to be taken into the Secret Service for questioning.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Of course I would. You could be a security risk. Using a false identity to get close to a Secret Service agent. You could be locked away without a trial.”

She gritted her teeth but was quite aware that he was telling the truth. At least he hadn’t accused her of drugging him. Yet. Did he even suspect?

She could hardly save the world if she was locked up. While she was sure her father would get her out eventually, in the meantime, a nuclear bomb would go off, likely triggering a war that could kill millions. Not an option. And she still had to find Stella.

So she had no choice but to totally humiliate herself.

She could do it.

She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “Look, okay, this is really embarrassing.”

“Go ahead.”

She took another deep breath. “I wanted to sleep with you.”

Had she managed to shock him? Though it must have been clear—she’d almost dragged him here and torn off his clothes.

“Why?”

What would convince him? The truth? No—only a lie would do in these circumstances. “I had a crush on you when I was a teenager.”

“So far so good.”

“Obviously, you were totally off-limits back then. You know the whole engaged-to-my-sister thing. But that’s not the case anymore and when you came back, I asked Stella if she would try and arrange for us to…get together.”

“She spoke to me at the president’s birthday party.”

She sniffed. “Did she? She never mentioned it.”

“Probably because I said I wasn’t interested.” He shrugged. “She told me you were looking for a relationship.”

“No. I’m not.”

He ignored her comment. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Neither do I.”

“But you still wanted to have sex with me?”

“Yes.”

They were silent for a minute. Maybe it was time for a little fabrication. “Stella told me you liked blondes. That you’d gotten a reputation for one-night stands with blondes you picked up in bars. So I thought—why not?”

“Why indeed?” he muttered.

Maybe he didn’t like the idea that he was getting a reputation. Hard luck. He shouldn’t be such a man slut. “I was pretty sure that you would be a huge disappointment and I would get you out of my system once and for all.”

“Well, I was certainly that. I fell asleep on you.”

“It was probably just as well. Some things are meant to stay in the realms of fantasy.” She gave him a bright smile. “Anyway, so that’s it.” She wanted to add something to the effect that he could go now, but she thought that might be pushing her luck.

Did he believe her?

He sat back and sipped his coffee, looking at her over the mug. She had to hold herself still to prevent herself twitching. “Maybe you should head home and get some more sleep. You must have been tired.”

“I must have been.”

“It’s probably an age thing.” She was definitely pushing her luck.

“No doubt.” He put his empty mug down and stood up, then crossed over to where he’d placed his things the night before. He slid the shoulder holster over his shirt, buckling it on. With the weapon, he seemed to change, become a different person, and she realized what she’d been doing.

Baiting Gideon Frome.

Hero of the Wall. Second-in-command of the notorious Secret Service. A dangerous man.

He pulled on his jacket over the top. He was leaving and she blew out her breath, almost sagged into the seat. Then she pushed herself to her feet and wiped her hands down the side of her jeans. “I’ll see you out.”

“Thank you.”

Was there a hint of irony to his words? Probably.

She led the way to the front door. As she moved to open it, he placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her, and she turned to face him.

“Well, goodbye, then,” she said.

He didn’t move, just stood there looking down at her.

“I’ll call you,” he said.

What for?

Before she could ask, he was gone.