I’m not famous, generally speaking. There are no squealing girls or awestruck fans when I venture out, but in certain circles I’m well-known. DC would be one of those circles, especially with my brother rising the way he has. I pull the brim of my Astros cap a little lower and adjust my sunglasses. When I enter the Royal, the LeDetroit Park coffee shop where, according to my sources, Lennix has breakfast each morning, I don’t cause even a ripple of interest.
She’s seated at the table tucked into a back corner. Sunlight shines golden on her high cheekbones. She’s reading, her dark brows bunched, and she chews on her bottom lip. I stand there for a second watching her. It feels good to simply be able to look at her again. She reaches for the steaming teacup beside her and takes a sip.
“Morning,” I say.
“Shit.” She startles, hissing at the burn and tugging her bottom lip. She sets down her steaming cup of tea and aims a look caffeinated with impatience up at me. “Good morning. Too much to hope this is a coincidence?”
I crook a half-grin and nod to the empty seat across from her. “Can I sit?”
“I mean, you went to all this trouble to find me.”
I sit and lay my sunglasses and hat on the table. “Not too much to figure out since you eat breakfast here every day.”
“It’s creepy that you know that.”
“One man’s creepy is another man’s determination.”
“A new business venture for you. Inspirational quotes for stalkers.” She pushes away the untouched croissant in front of her. “Print that over an ocean scene. It’ll be gorgeous on the wall of some peeping tom.”
“Nice one.” I chuckle and sink lower into the seat. “This could have been avoided if you’d just talked to me last night.”
She glances up from under a sweep of midnight lashes, but slides her gaze away, out the window to the people passing by. There was a time when this woman’s body begged for mine, and now she’ll barely look at me.
“I didn’t think we had anything to discuss,” she says, eyes still trained outside, voice pitched to a level of indifference. “I’m assuming Owen told you my conditions for accepting the job.”
“You mean that Kimba is my handler?” I infuse some amusement into the words, but I didn’t find it funny when Owen told me. I still don’t.
“Your contact.” She looks at me directly. “It’s not unusual for us to divide responsibilities.”
“Is it unusual to have slept with your clients?”
Her eyes and mouth pinch at the corners. That’s what I wanted—the fire I know is there, not these cold ashes she’s giving me.
“This is exactly why I didn’t think we should work together,” she says.
“Because you’re scared? Or would Wally not like it?”
“I’m not scared, and it’s Wallace. Please stay out of my relationship.”
“Your relationship.” I stretch the word out as if examining it syllable by syllable. “So when did you and Wallace start seeing each other?”
Back then, Grim reported that they were dating, but it wasn’t clear when they started.
“The first time it was not too long after college graduation,” she answers.
I tense at her words. “Were you seeing him when I came to the campaign office in Oklahoma?”
“No.” She clears her throat. “What happened that day was a mistake, but it never would have happened if I’d been in a committed relationship.”
“So you like to think.”
“I know so. I would never cheat on Wallace.” Truth rings in her voice, and I’m even less sure of what’s going on between them.
“If there’s a point, could you make it?” She asks, glancing at the slim watch on her wrist. “I need to get to the office.”
“You obviously believe my brother can win,” I say, lowering my voice and glancing around. Owen hasn’t announced yet, and this city is crawling with eyes and ears.
“I believe he will win. I wouldn’t have taken him on if I didn’t believe that.”