Page 66 of Covert Temptation

“Kennedy—”

She was distracted by whatever she saw in the bottom of the box. “Um…I’ll just put this in my room.”

“Kennedy.” This time her name came out as a warning.

She rolled her eyes at him. “It’s a surprise. I promise you’ll get to see what it is later.”

After making her feel so unworthy, how could he say no to her now?

He tapped the last box with his toe. “And this?”

“That’s the coffee table.”

He sputtered. “You’re joking. You bought atable?”

“We need a place to put our midnight snacks when we watch hockey.”

He ran a hand over his face. “And you bought all this on the government card. Con’s gonna kill me.”

“I hate to tell you this, but we need to break out your card again.”

“For what now?”

“Food. The pizza’s gone, and I’m not going to trust some canned meat out of the pantry.”

He sank to the vacant chair and pulled out his phone. “You want pizza again?”

“I saw a menu for fusion food in the desk.”

“No way am I eating fusion. Mexican?”

“Tacos?” she asked hopefully.

“Done. Get it delivered. I’m going to check my email.”

“Deal.” She seemed lighter than he’d ever seen her. Maybe it was shopping. Maybe now that she had the tracking device in her boot, she felt he no longer had any reason not to trust her.

That small twist of pain in his chest was back, and he lifted a hand to the spot as he returned to the living room. As he took a seat at the desk, Kennedy called out, “Do you eat guacamole?”

“Love it,” he called back.

She was silent again, placing the order. He could barely focus on the few emails in his inbox. One caught his eye, and he sat up straighter.

Blackout got him full clearance and a login for the CIA’s secure system.

He had an in. A database to dig deep and find out as much as he could about the link between Daniel Sheen and Cipher.

He needed Kennedy to help him sift through all this information. She managed to take the workings of his mind and organize it into a visual aid.

She already understood him better than most people ever had in his entire life. His parents sure as hell hadn’t. The age difference between him and his siblings created a natural barrier. And his foster families didn’t want anything to do with Dante—they just wanted the check that rolled in on the first of every month.

But Kennedy… In trying to understand the intel, she had somehow tapped into his mind.

And his damn heart too.

He pressed his fingers to that spot again, the one that felt the sharp pang when he thought about how much he’d wronged her.

Her whisper reached him at the same time her footsteps did. He twisted to watch her coming toward him, dragging the coffee table package, her lips moving as she counted her footsteps.

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