Page 11 of End Game

“Thank you for coming, Mr. Blackwell,” Jillian said. With an elegant, slim hand, she introduced her two friends, then indicated Kayla. “You know my daughter, I assume?”

Drawing on acting skills he’d honed onstage with the Montford Park Players for two summers in high school along with his Bureau undercover work, he infused warmth into his features and looked at the lobbyist for the first time since joining their circle. “We’re acquainted, yes.”

The laugh lines around Kayla’s eyes curled tighter, and Cameron realized he’d moved the congeniality needle too far in the opposite direction. She was used to his scowls and barely contained civility. Anything approximating friendliness would, of course, draw her suspicion. And increase her damn amusement.

He cursed his rookie move. Why did he always feel off-balance around this woman? Why did every cell in his body nudge him closer to her, while his brain slammed on the brakes and threw him in reverse?

For the thousandth time, he cursed Zeke for forcing a promise on him and Lawson for backing him into a corner. Nothing he’d learned at the FBI Academy could have prepared him for Kayla Krowne.

The likelihood that she would divulge anything of substance to him was next to nothing. He flattened his features.

A master at reading body language, Phin turned the conversation toward the event. “With such a full house, I suspect you’ll hit your fundraising goal.”

While his brother did damage control, his mind worked through different scenarios on how to get Kayla alone, so he could question her about the board member’s accusations. He had the sensation of responding to inquiries, while his mind kept working the problem.

Right when he decided the direct approach was his best option, the back of a large hand smacked his bicep.

“Where the hell did you go, bro?” Phin said in a low, irritated voice.

Blinking, he glanced around and realized with some shock that the three older women had moved on. Feeling a shift in the air beside him, he turned to find the lobbyist walking away, her head bent toward her phone.

In two giant steps, he was at her side. “I need to talk to you.”

When she lifted her head, her eyes had that faraway look a person gets when their mind was still engaged elsewhere. Phin muttered something beneath his breath before leaving them alone.

Kayla lifted a blond brow. “That’s not the impression I got while you were standing next to me, aloof for ten full minutes.”

“I was . . . thinking.”

Her lips twitched, and he braced himself for one of her sharp barbs. But she surprised him by putting on her professional hat instead.

“Call my office tomorrow and my assistant will get you on my calendar.”

“Why not find a quiet spot now?”

She rocked her phone back and forth between her thumb and middle finger. “I have to meet with someone.”

Irritation bubbled, and his pleasant façade slipped. He held out his business card. “Text me when your meeting is over.”

Her amusement disappeared, as she accepted it. “What’s this about, Ash?”

“Cameron.”

An expression he couldn’t quite name flashed across her features. If it had been anyone else, he might have thought his correction had hurt her.

He shook off the thought. This was Kayla Krowne. He knew from experience that the lobbyist’s skin was as thick as a rhino’s.

She raised an inquiring brow, waiting for an answer.

“I’d like to get your opinion on a piece of art,” he improvised.

“I’m sure your expertise far exceeds my own. What could my input add to the equation?”

He tamped down another surge of irritation. “Meet with me and find out.”

“Such mind game tactics don’t work on me, Mr. Blackwell. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really must go.” She glided away, exiting through a set of French doors that led to what he assumed was an outdoor veranda.

Mr. Blackwell.

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