by Brynley Bush
Miles continues. “You’ll leave for Austin in the morning. There will be a briefing at Maddox’s house tomorrow evening with the agents involved in the case and Maddox to get a course of action lined up. Everything you need is in the file, including the lease on an apartment in Austin and the information that has been gathered to date on the case. However, I suggest you do your own research on Drake Maddox before you meet him.” He flashes me a rare smile. “It would be advisable to have at least heard one of his songs since you’re going to be dating the guy.”
I’m more than ready for a drink when Kate picks me up four hours later. Wanting to share my excitement about my new assignment, I’d impulsively called Kyle after I’d gotten home, although all I’d told him was that I was going to be working on PR for a famous musician, not pretending to date him. Our conversation had ended with both of us hurt and angry. Again. He’d apparently thought that after a month on the job, I’d be ready to run back to Washington and resume our relationship.
“May is still two months away,” he’d said warningly before we hung up. “I’ll need you here. Hopefully you’ll have gotten this out of your system by then.”
Although the SoHo Wine and Martini Bar is located in a restored old bank vault off the Riverwalk, it’s dark and intimate with a jazz band playing seductively in the background, and I feel like I’m back in New York. It’s oddly comforting, as is the easy camaraderie of the women I’m with. In addition to Kate and me, there’s Sofia, a Spanish linguist I work with, and Sarah, another special agent that I’ve only spoken to a time or two. That doesn’t really matter though, because with infinitely more men in the agency than women, the bond between female agents tends to be pretty instantaneous.
“Tell us about your assignment!” Kate demands as soon as we’ve all ordered martinis. “We’re dying here.”
“I’m going undercover as the girlfriend of some country singer named Drake Maddox to try and catch a possible serial killer who’s targeting women he dates or shows an interest in,” I say nonchalantly, taking a sip of my Pear martini that tastes just like a Jolly Rancher.
The three women stare at me dumbfounded for one long minute. Kate recovers her voice first.
“Shut up!” she squeals.
Sarah chimes in, “That man is hotter that a car in Texas in August.” She fans herself dramatically.
“He is pretty good looking,” I admit. I’d peeked at the photo of him in the file. With his dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and hint of scruff, I can see how he’s the heartthrob of the country music world.
“Pretty good looking?” Sarah replies incredulously. “He’s panty dropping gorgeous!”
I laugh at her description.
“You’ll have to excuse Tori,” Sofia says in her melodious South American accent. “She’s sworn off all men, especially the good looking ones, since she broke up with her hot lobbyist boyfriend in DC.”
“We’re just taking a break,” I say automatically.
“You’re too good for him!” Kate says bluntly.
“I don’t know,” I say, running my finger absentmindedly along the rim of my martini glass. “Most people, including my dad and the entire Republican Party, think he’s pretty perfect. Actually, he is perfect. I think that’s part of the problem. I feel like I constantly have to work at being the perfect woman for him.” I sigh. “To be honest, I’m looking forward to this assignment and the opportunity to check out of my own life for a while.”
Eager to change the subject, I turn to Kate. “But I still feel bad that you didn’t get the assignment.”
“You’re a better fit for the job,” she assures me. “I’m too old anyway.”
“Yeah, thirty is downright ancient,” I say teasingly.
“Plus I’m not really his type, although I would love to ride that cowboy!” she adds wickedly.
“Kate!” I say, laughing.
She takes a sip of her martini and looks at me consideringly. “You aren’t really his type either, though.”
“Really?” I ask curiously. “What’s his type?”
The three women exchange a look.
“What?” I say suspiciously.
“Um, have you done any research on Drake Maddox?” Sofia asks.
“Not really, other than what was in the file. I haven’t had much time.”
“He has a reputation as a bit of a bad boy,” Sarah says carefully.
Kate snorts. “A bit! He’s a lone wolf, very private, oozes charming but doesn’t let anyone get too close. He’s also a total womanizer; he’s rarely seen with the same woman twice. But he’s wicked good-looking with a face and body built for sin, and he uses it. If you believe the rumors, he’s on the adventurous side and has a taste for the dark and forbidden. He typically doesn’t go for the sweet and innocent type.”
“I’m not sweet and innocent!” I protest, but I have to admit I can see her point.
Despite the fact that I can shoot a target with precise consistency and take out a man twice my weight, my life has been spent trying to be that agreeable girl who always does what’s expected of her. Growing up, I didn’t really stand a chance to be anything otherwise, although I secretly longed to be daring and adventuresome.
When my mother died in a car accident when I was six, my father had devoted himself to making sure nothing would ever happen to me. As the founder and head of one of New York’s most prestigious public relations firms, he had the means to ensure my childhood was spent in a luxurious bubble. While my friends had walked to school in giggling groups, I’d been driven in a limousine to ensure I wasn’t hit by an errant driver or kidnapped by some crazy madman. When I’d begged my father for horseback riding lessons, he had flatly denied me, telling me he wouldn’t risk losing the only person he had left that he loved.
As an only child, I’d felt the pressure to be everything he wanted me to be, and I’d done my best to not disappoint him or give him any cause for worry. I’d studied hard in school, made the right friends, dated the appropriate (albeit boring) boys in the right social circle, and unquestioningly followed in his footsteps, getting my bachelors and masters degrees in public relations from Columbia. Up until I applied to the FBI, my biggest act of rebellion had been insisting on taking a job in Washington instead of joining my father’s firm. Even Kyle was the perfect boyfriend for the perfect life my father has spent his entire life building for me. Not surprisingly, my father adores him.
I may have been that sweet and naïve girl who tries to please everyone, but I’m not sure that’s who I am anymore. The more time I spend with her, the more I’m starting to like the girl who impulsively ducked inside the FBI office while walking past on her lunch hour and spent the next hour talking to an agent there, the girl who filled out the application and took a chance on creating a new life for herself that excited her rather than settling for going through the motions of a life that had become so comfortable that she felt the walls were closing in.
In the spirit of that girl I say, “I may look sweet and innocent, but I’m an FBI agent. I’m a card carrying badass.”
“Of course you are,” Sofia says soothingly. She looks at me with concern. “But just because you can be a badass on the job doesn’t mean you can handle a man with the sexual appetites of Drake Maddox.”
I look at her in horror. “I’m not going to sleep with him! I just have to pretend to be his girlfriend.”
Dedication and Acknowledgements
To my second, who is matchless in every way
Thank you to Kim Kiser, Debbie Richardson, and Renae Cobb for the early reads, suggestions, encouragement, and friendship. I couldn’t do this without your support and invaluable insight. Thanks also to my proofreader, who fell in love with Griffin and kept me straight on all things Navy SEAL.
Also, a huge thank you to my husband and kids who dug through dirty laundry, ate take out and strange meals cobbled together at the last minute, and were endlessly patient when I got caught up in the world in my head instead of
the one I live in. Your love and support means the world to me.
And as always, a huge shout out to the romance community—readers and writers—who are some of the most welcoming, helpful, friendly, kind, and well-read group of women I have had the privilege to know.