Page 28 of Playing With Love

Damn.

“Sorry. I have a lot on my mind. What’d I miss?”

This of course wasn’t a lie. For the first time in my career, my personal feelings were overlapping with my professional obligations. It was a lot to process. I was also doubting my ability to keep the past in the past and work with Tucker—another first. Not since that very first day fresh out of basic after Carter Lenox Senior had given me a stern talking to did I doubt myself. Doubt turned into hesitation and hesitation could get someone killed. That didn’t mean I wasn’t cautious and careful in the field. It just meant I never put myself in a position where doubt could creep in.

Now doubt was front and center.

“Shannon already sent your cover. Didn’t make it to Dylan before Nick poked holes in it.”

That didn’t sound right. The ATF wasn’t the CIA, but still, they didn’t hand out janky legends that could get an undercover agent killed.

“Poked holes in it?”

“Obviously whoever crafted your cover didn’t take the time to read Nick’s profile,” Trey told me. “An independently wealthy, highly successful businesswoman isn’t going to appeal to Mackenzie Archer. She’s looking for women who have just enough expendable income to pay for her seminars and attend her retreats, but not wealthy. Your cover had you inheriting millions.”

No, that wouldn’t work. Mackenzie wouldn’t be interested in someone flush with cash.

Shit.

“I need to appear hungry,” I stated. “Just a taste of success and looking for a way to increase my wealth.”

“Correct,” Trey affirmed.

“What’s Tucker’s cover?”

Trey smirked.

“Retired.”

I glanced at Tucker, took in the gray at his temples, the strands that dusted the rest of his hair, not to mention his beard, then back to Trey.

Even though he doesn’t look anywhere near retirement age, I played along.

“I can see that.”

“You’re gonna see something,” Tucker mumbled.

“What was that?” Trey snickered.

“Someone’s a little touchy about their age,” I teased.

Tucker raised a brow slowly, a lazy gesture that said exactly what he wanted it to say, so the words he added were superfluous, yet he still smoothly put in, “We can talk about just how touchy I’m feeling, sweetheart.”

Nope.

No thank you.

I wasn’t going to engage because I really, really wanted to engage. I knew from experience if I gave Tucker the go-ahead he’d run with it. The banter would be teasing and fun until it wasn’t. My walls were flimsy at best; a few naughty comments from Tucker would have me forgetting my heart couldn’t take another round.

Moving on.

“How about we stay on track,” I suggested.

Mercifully, Tucker heeded my suggestion and informed me, “I’m going in as a web designer. I need a job that won’t prohibit relocation.”

That made sense.

“I’ll call Sam and tell him he needs to read Nick’s profile and give me a cover surrounding the arts. I can’t draw for shit, but I can throw some paint on a canvas and call it abstract. He can give me an Etsy store, a website, fake awards and reviews. There’s money to be made selling art online. I’m skirting the line of success, making money but hungry for more.”