Page 57 of The Perfect Mistake

“You bet.” They’re one of the few things I know how to make by heart. We’ve had them as a weekend treat for years, whenever I’m home.

She looks so happy that my heart constricts in my chest. “Are you working today?”

“No,” I say. “Not even for a minute.”

Her smile widens. “Can we go to the park?”

“We sure can. Whatever you two want.”

I watch her skip over to the couch, a feeling of guilt souring my mood. It never seems to go away. I want Willa and Sam to know that when I’m working, I’m doing it for them, but that concept is hard to translate for kids. I want to be here for them… and I want them to have a family legacy when they’re older. The way Nate, Connie, and I do.

I start frying pancakes and listen to the kids on the couch, the low drone of the TV, and the absence of squabbling. Good.

I’m flipping a pancake when she speaks. The sound of her soft voice has the opposite effect on me, striking like a lightning bolt down my spine.

“You’re cooking?” There’s a hint of surprise in her tone.

“Yes,” I say. She’s standing by the kitchen island, dressed in workout clothes and some kind of teddy jacket. Her face is clean of makeup and ponytail in her hair. Beautiful. “Does that come as a surprise?”

“I don’t want to offend you, but… yes. Kind of.”

I look down at the pancake I’m flipping. This is enough. This is the boundary I need to tread. Friendly, companionable, professional conversation.

“You know, there are a lot of talents I haven’t shown you,” I say.

Fuck.

Didn’t take long to step over that line.

She chuckles, and the sound makes the transgression worth it. “That sounds interesting, and a little ominous. Contron doesn’t secretly assassinate its business rivals or anything, does it? You’re not trained in Krav Maga?”

“I could tell you, but then I’ll have to kill you.”

She leans against the counter with a little smile. “So, that’s a yes. You know, Connie has always been pretty tight-lipped about what you guys really do at work, but I already suspected it was something illegal.”

I shake my head. “Oh no, we never do anything actually illegal. Gray areas, Isabel. That’s where most of the money is made.”

Her eyebrows lift. “You know what, I don’t even think you’re joking.”

I’m not.

But she doesn’t come from this world. Hers has been one of rigorous training and discipline, too, but in an entirely different field.

Her eyes, flaring and just a little bit cautious, lock with mine. Why wouldn’t she be wary? At any moment, I might start apologizing again. Or kissing her again. Or both.

God, do I want to do the latter. Now that I’ve tasted her, it’s all I want to do. The need I slaked earlier this morning is already rearing its head again. How had I thought hiring her wouldn’t be a problem? That it wouldn’t be a mistake?

“Good morning,” I say.

Her lips part on a soft exhale. “Good morning. Are we… everything’s okay, right?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

She digs her teeth into her lower lip. “Good. Because I was thinking that—”

Sam’s loud shriek cuts her sentence off. He comes racing into the kitchen with a blanket in hand. “Isa!” he says. “Cape, cape, help me with the cape.”

She ruffles his hair and takes the blanket from him. I watch as she ties it around his neck, loose enough that he can easily slip it off his head himself.

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