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His arm curled around her slender waist, and they turned to face Spencer Correll together. Correll’s assistant had joined them.
Mike stuck out his hand to introduce himself to the assistant, just to make sure Claire knew his name...or at least the name and identity he’d devised for this assignment. “Mitchell Brown, nice to meet you.”
Correll clapped his hand on his assistant’s shoulder. “Trey Jensen, this is Claire’s fiancé, Mitchell Brown. Mitchell, my assistant, Trey Jensen.”
He shook the other man’s hand, already knowing his name, bank account balance and sexual predilections. “Good to meet you, Trey. Now, if you gentlemen don’t mind, I’m going to steal my fiancée away from her own party for a few minutes.”
Claire pinched his side. “I thought you’d never ask, babe.”
Spencer chuckled. “You two go ahead. I’ll hold down the fort for you, Claire. It’s not like you’ve spent much time with your guests anyway.”
Claire responded to this zinger by pulling Mike toward the staircase with a firm grip. “We won’t be too long.”
They held hands up the stairs and across the landing until she dragged him into a library, its shelves lined with books and the floor covered by a thick carpet that muted their steps.
She shut and locked the door and then turned toward him, her unusual violet eyes alight with fire. “Fiancé? You’re my fiancé?”
“I thought it was the best cover to keep me close to your side and privy to Correll’s comings and goings. That way I can stay in this house. I even brought a bag. This is still your house, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” She narrowed her extraordinary eyes. “Did Lola send me someone I can actually work with, or a bodyguard?”
“Can’t I be a little of both?” He spread out his hands. He liked it better when she had her arms curled around his neck, kissing him, instead of skewering him with a frosty gaze. He needed to get on her good side if he wanted her to give Lola a good report—not that it mattered at this point.
“Just so you know, Mitchell Brown is not my real name. It’s Mike. Mike Becker.”
“Suits you better.” Crossing her arms, she tapped the toe of her glittering sandal. “When did this fiancé stuff all go down, Mike Becker?”
He put a hand in the pocket of his dress slacks and toyed with his coat-check ticket. “From the look on your face when I walked in, I figured you hadn’t received Lola’s final text.”
“She told me she was sending someone from her husband’s agency, but I didn’t know the details. I certainly didn’t know I was acquiring a fiancé.”
“I didn’t even give Lola all the details.”
“I have a five-year-old son. To him, you’ll be nothing but a friend, got it?”
The mama-bear attitude surprised him coming from this glittering goddess, but it figured she’d be protective of her son. He knew all about the boy and the tragic demise of her husband, Shane Chadwick.
“I know about...your son, and I have no intention of playing the doting fiancé or future stepdad in front of him.”
She blinked and brushed a wisp of blond hair from her eyes. “Ethan’s going out to his grandparents’ place in a few days, anyway. I’m glad Lola gave you some background, although I’m sure you did some checking on your own.”
“Of course.” Didn’t she realize that every covert-ops agent at home and abroad knew the story about her husband? Hell, didn’t the entire world know? Mike cleared his throat. “Jack Coburn isn’t too pleased you contacted his wife directly, but when you mentioned a connection between Correll and a terrorist group, we thought it best to investigate. You have some video proof?”
“I do. I’m sure it proves...something. You’ll see.” She’d hooked her finger around a diamond necklace encircling her neck, and the large pendant glinted in the low light of the library.
“When can I see it?” Jack wasn’t all that convinced Claire had any proof of anything, but he didn’t want to leave any stone unturned—especially when that stone involved his wife’s friend.
