Kara Lennox - Under Deepest Cover

The furnishings were ultramodern, comfortable but sparse. He did his entertaining in the restaurant, so he didn’t need lots of chairs or sofas.

Original art adorned the space, but again, not too much-a small abstract painting here, a funky sculpture there. Things he’d seen, wanted, picked up.

Mostly from starving artists getting their starts, although a few pieces might be worth some serious money by now.

“I love this place!” Lucy whirled around, trying to take it all in. “You live here? You actually live here?”

“When I’m home, which lately hasn’t been all that often.”

“How long will I be staying here? Not that I’m complaining, just trying to prepare myself. Will you want me to testify at a trial? Will I have to stay indoors all the time, or can I go out?”

He smiled at her exuberance, which radiated from her every pore. He’d thought her plain when he first saw her, but he could see that wasn’t true, even in those horrible orange pants. She had an infectious smile and bright, lively eyes in a shade of pale blue he’d seldom seen.

“I won’t keep you locked up like a prisoner,” he said. “We’ll be able to venture out some. I don’t imagine you’ll run into anyone you know this far from home.”

As for his family, there was no way to avoid them. He would have to find a way to explain her sudden presence in his life.

“Um, actually, that’s not true,” she said. “I lived here for a while.”

“What?” This was news to him. The exhaustive background check he’d done on her hadn’t mentioned any residences in New York. “That’s impossible.” But then he remembered those two years when she’d disappeared from the system.

“Have you ever heard of a band called In Tight?” she asked.

“Sure. They’re hot right now. In fact, didn’t they play the Super Bowl half-time this year?”

She nodded. “I used to work for them.”

Now it was Bryan’s turn to be shocked. “You? Working for a rock band?”

“I answered an ad on the Internet, and I got a job working on In Tight’s finances-you know, helping to manage the money when they did concert tours, stuff like that.”

Bryan had a hard time picturing Lucy Miller hanging out with wild-haired musicians. Was it possible she was pulling his leg? Was Lucy Miller a pathological liar?

“I did a background check on you,” he said. “There was nothing about-”

“They paid me off the books. They weren’t as famous then. They gave me a place to live, too, so you wouldn’t have found an apartment under my name. I’m just telling you this so you’ll know that I might run into people who would recognize me.”

“We’ll just have to make sure that doesn’t happen.” He studied her from head to toe, thinking how she could be made to look different-different hair, different eyes. “How would you feel about a makeover?”

He was worried that he’d insulted her, but instead she brightened. “Oh, I’d love one. Can I be a blonde? I think Lindsay Morgan would be a blonde.”

“If you like. My cousin Scarlet is the assistant fashion editor at Charisma magazine. She can bring over a truckload of clothes and cosmetics, hair stuff.

Do you need the glasses?”

“Only if I don’t want to run into walls.”

“We’ll get you some contacts. Maybe green ones, though it’s a shame to cover up those pretty blue eyes.”

She looked away, embarrassed. “Don’t tease me. My eyes are a very ordinary shade of blue-almost gray. Boring.”

“I don’t find them boring at all.”

She peeked up at him. “You’re serious.”

Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. He didn’t want Lucy feeling threatened, since she was forced to shack up with him. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hit on you. But you do have pretty eyes.”

“Hit on me. Right. So when is the magical transformation going to take place?”

“How about after dinner?”

Bryan showed Lucy to the guest room, which had a private bath. “Where do you sleep?” she asked.

“My room’s upstairs, along with a study. I’ll show you later. My computer’s up there, and if you’re serious about deciphering the data you brought from the bank, you’ll be spending a lot of time at the keyboard.”

“Absolutely.”

“I’ll leave you to freshen up, then, while I do something about dinner.”

“Okay. Do you have a robe or something I can wear until your cousin brings me some clothes? I don’t really want to put Mrs. Pfluger’s polyester pants back on after my shower. In fact, I’d like to burn them.”

“I’ll bring you something.”

Bryan didn’t actually have a robe, but he found her a pair of pajamas still in the package, a gift from his gram. Every year she gave him pajamas, and he’d never had the nerve to tell her he didn’t wear them.

When he returned to Lucy’s room, the shower was running, the bathroom door open a crack. He felt a less-than-admirable urge to peek inside the bath and see what she looked like without clothes. Ever since she’d fallen on top of him, his imagination had been running wild.

He didn’t, then wondered why he was being so noble. He was a spy, used to peering at other people’s secrets. He set the pajamas on the bed and then went to see about dinner. A quick call downstairs to the restaurant took care of that. Then he had to deal with Scarlet.

“You know I love a makeover challenge,” Scarlet said, warming to the idea right away. “John’s away on business, so my evening’s free. I’ll stop by the office, grab everything I need and be there in an hour or so.”

“Are you guys getting married?”

“The wedding’s not till next year, and if you didn’t travel so much for the restaurant, you would know these things. Honestly, don’t they grow decent spices in America?”

Hmm. Maybe his standard excuse for his frequent absences-that he was seeking exotic spices-was growing a little thin. “I have to keep up with the latest,” he said blandly.

“So where’d you find this girl, anyway? What’s the story? Normally the girls I’ve seen you with don’t need any help in the clothes or cosmetics department.”

“Oh, she’s not my-” He stopped. How was he going to explain Lucy’s presence to Scarlet, and to the rest of his family? She could be under his protection for months. He couldn’t keep her under wraps all that time. “She’s not my usual type, true,” he continued smoothly. “But Lindsay’s special. Frankly, I think she’s perfect just the way she is. She’s a country girl, you know, the all-natural look. But she’s the one who wants a makeover. She wants to fit in better in New York.”

“I’ll be happy to help Lindsay any way I can,” Scarlet said, and Bryan read between the lines. She was going to pump Lucy for every shred of information she could get about Bryan’s new romance. He’d better go warn Lucy that she’d just become his girlfriend.

Lucy couldn’t believe what she’d just overheard. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop.

But as she wandered into the kitchen fresh from her shower, she couldn’t help but hear Bryan talking to his cousin. And he’d passed her off as his new girlfriend.

Bryan turned, saw her and realized she’d heard. “Uh, yeah. Guess we need to talk about this. I’m sorry, but I don’t know any other way to explain what you’re doing here. My family doesn’t know I’m a government agent. No one knows. And they can’t know. I have to keep those two parts of my life completely separate, for the welfare of everyone concerned. You understand that, right?”

“Yes. But-”

“You’ve already proved you can be cool under pressure. When Scarlet gets here, just follow my lead. You’re okay with this, right?”

Oh, she was more than okay. The idea excited her. But there was a big problem.

“Sure, I can deal with it, but who on earth is going to believe I’m your girlfriend?”

“Why wouldn’t they?”

“Because I’m just a mousy little banker from D.C. and you’re a…a…”

“I own a restaurant. That’s all anyone knows.” The phone rang and he picked it up. It didn’t escape Lucy’s attention that he didn’t argue about her self-assessment. Apparently he agreed with her description of “mousy.”

“Okay, thanks.” He hung up and turned back to Lucy. “That’s our dinner. I’ll be right back.”

While he was gone, Lucy tried to wrap her mind around the idea that she was going to be posing as Bryan’s girlfriend. Once upon a time she’d thought of herself as quite the hot chick. After all, she’d caught the eye of Cruz Tabor, drummer for In Tight, one of the hottest men in the country if the tabloids could be believed. She’d told herself when she took the job with In Tight that she wouldn’t behave like a groupie, that just being around the band was excitement enough for her.

Then Cruz had started flirting with her, and she was a goner. She’d believed every lie the bastard had told her. He’d said she was gorgeous, sexy, hot. He’d taken her on tour, letting her travel in first class with the band, buying her expensive presents.

But then she’d discovered he said all those things, did all those things, with every woman he slept with. And there were lots and lots of them. She’d been so naive, such a dumb bunny, to think she was anything special.

This was way different, though, she reminded herself. She wasn’t a hot chick, and she wasn’t deluding herself into believing she was. So how would anyone else believe she’d caught Bryan’s eye? Bryan was pretty hot himself. He could have any woman he wanted.

He knew the Hilton sisters. His trendy restaurant drew celebrities all the time.

Did he sleep with any of them? How was she supposed to compete with that?

She found some dishes in the cabinets and set two place settings at the polished-granite bar. A few minutes later, the most wonderful aroma invaded her nose, followed by Bryan stepping off the elevator with two huge white bags.