"They don't know you very well," Phoebe muttered, tucking her hair back behind her ears. Solutions to the problem ran through her mind and the only one that kept taking the lead was what her father had already done. She thought some more. "How bad are the threats? I mean, are they threatening not to vote for you or something worse?"

"I know where you're headed with this, Phoebe," Stan said, a rea.s.suring smile playing on the corner of his lips. "This person has sent emails and letters that contain death threats. I'm not treating that lightly and I've taken certain steps that ensure our safety. All of us."

"By hiring CSA," Phoebe stated, finishing his sentence and then blowing at her bangs in frustration. She pulled the string that Paul had left dangling for her. "Is there a reason we can't go with a firm that's less expensive? Paul has a point."

"I'm not using the campaign's funds." Stan stood up and removed his jacket, hanging it on the back of his chair. He went about rolling up his sleeves and she knew that he intended to work well into the night. "I will pay for this privately until the Secret Service takes over. As for CSA, that is not up for debate. You get what you pay for. CSA is the best and I am not going to settle for less. I taught you that early on."

"Dad, I know that you have trust in Lach McKinnon, especially after Africa." Phoebe could be just as cautious with words as her father and delicately framed her sentences. "I also agree with you that he is highly qualified, which is why he should be the one to watch over Kimmie. The man who followed her out the door seems a little young and-"

"Ethan Chambers is only a year younger than you, Phoebe." Stan took his seat and leaned forward so that his elbows were on the desk. She didn't have to be his daughter to admit that he was handsome and had a charisma that would charm the American people. Added to that was his belief that he could make this a better country and the citizens got the entire package. She was one of the few people in the world that saw his flaws. Unfortunately, society wouldn't cla.s.sify being overprotective a weakness. "Crest agrees that Ethan will blend in more on campus than McKinnon. Let's face it, the man is a t.i.tan."

Phoebe wrestled with herself over telling her father what had happened in Iraq or keeping it personal. It wasn't any of his business yet she needed some excuse not to have Lach back in her life. He'd made it abundantly clear that the s.e.x they'd had was a one-time thing, and when pushed to clarify he answered exactly as she'd thought he would. He'd given her little choice and she'd gone on the defensive. She hated being on that side of the playing field.

Needing something to do in order to stall for time, Phoebe stood up and walked over to the small side table where her father kept a coffee machine. He worked hard and put in long hours, so it only made sense for him to have his own. It came in handy as she took a Styrofoam cup off of the stack and poured herself some.

"Is this where you tell me you had s.e.x with him? That's something I'd expect from Kimmie, but not you."

Coffee sloshed over Phoebe's hand and she cursed as she set both the pot and cup back down on the table. She'd always kept her personal life private, knowing her father would have had any man she was seeing investigated before their date had ended and lecturing her on how her behavior reflected on his public persona. She could only imagine his reaction to some of her past affairs, but she shoved that to the back of the long list of things her father didn't need to know. She grabbed a napkin and dried her hand, ignoring the reddish tint to her skin.

"Why would you ask me such a question?" Phoebe finally had her composure and turned to face her father. He was studying her reaction but she'd already decided that he didn't need to know specific details. "I don't ask who you sleep with, although if I were to take a gamble it would be Natalie Olson. She can't take her eyes off of you at those fundraisers and Senate dinners. And don't ever ask me where Kimmie gets her non-filtered mouth."

Her father had the decency to flush but the reaction was short lived. He pursed his lips and motioned to the men waiting outside that they could join them. A fleeting moment of panic shot through Phoebe as she debated on actually telling her father the truth.

"Just out of curiosity, would it have made a difference if I'd said yes?" Phoebe asked as she warily watched Lach and the other man walk toward the office door.

"Honey, you know that my family comes first and that I would love for you to settle down and give me some grandchildren. At least then I'd be a.s.sured of you remaining at home. If I thought Lach McKinnon could get you to do that, I'd shake his hand and give you both my blessing."

Phoebe didn't respond to her father's comments, as the man in question entered behind whom she presumed to be was his partner. Even from this distance, it was as if Lach's scent surrounded her. The afternoon they'd spent together seemed as if it were yesterday and the memory brought with it the hurt she felt at being just another notch on his proverbial gun.

She thought of what her mother would say in this moment and quickly looked down at her gray business suit cut just right over her hips. Annabelle would have told Phoebe to buck up and lift the sides of her lips as if she'd just received news that world peace had arrived and she'd had a hand in producing it. She had a feeling the total opposite was about to happen over the course of her father's campaign-h.e.l.l on earth-but that didn't stop her from looking up with a smile on her flushed face.

Chapter Five.

Lach entered and remained quiet as Stan Dunaway made the introductions. He liked to watch and it was his experience that he learned more about a person through careful observation. Phoebe stepped forward and shook hands with Connor Ortega while offering Lach nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement. Her obviously fake smile told him all that he needed to know. She wasn't any happier about this than he was. h.e.l.l, considering her parting words that last time they saw each other, she probably thought he wasn't of the caliber of agent she thought he should be in order to be willing to give his life for hers. She'd certainly made her point plain, even to the most casual observer.

"Connor and Lach will be able to explain better how they plan to oversee our protection." Mr. Dunaway offered them coffee before pouring himself a cup. Both Lach and Connor declined and once the pleasantries were out of the way, Connor took a seat while Lach leaned his shoulder against the gla.s.s window overlooking the bullpen. Paul Mooney joined them, dragging in another chair behind him and situating himself between Phoebe and Connor. Lach could see from Mooney's face that his action meant little in regards to her and more of a power sign to signal his need for some control. "Let's get started, shall we?"

"Phoebe, I'm sure your father has shared with you the threats he's been receiving," Connor said, starting off the conversation. Lach didn't mind and crossed his arms, getting comfortable. It gave him time to notice the little details in her appearance, like the fact that she'd put on a light amount of make-up. The other times they'd been in each other's presence her skin had been natural. He found that both had their attractions. "We've taken the written letters and we will have them processed for any fingerprints or DNA. As for the emails, our technician specialist in the office has already started to trace the IP trail back to the originating server."

"How will this work then? If you catch who's making these threats, will that end this?"

"This?" Connor looked between father and daughter, obviously not understanding exactly what Phoebe meant. Lach knew precisely what she was referring to and he tried not to take it personally. He failed. "I'm not sure I'm following. Your father has hired CSA to oversee three protection details. One for himself, one for you, and one for your sister. There will be three shifts, with three handpicked armed guards for each rotation. They've personally been selected by our boss, Gavin Crest."

"I'm aware of who Mr. Crest is, Mr. Ortega," Phoebe replied while adjusting the watch on her wrist. Lach cringed inwardly when her statement came out condescending. Had she truly meant it that way? He wasn't so sure anymore, which truly grated his ego because he was d.a.m.n good at reading people. "My question is once you've captured the perpetrator, will we still need protection? The cost for this is being footed by my father...personally."

"That's something for your father to answer."

"Phoebe, I've already given my opinion," Paul interjected, crossing his legs and seemingly annoyed that his view on the matter was ignored. Lach read the man's dossier earlier and nothing stood out, other than his need to win. He was aggressive in his career and didn't hesitate to make the major decisions. Lach could see why Dunaway hired Mooney, yet sometimes giving too much power to one individual was a mistake. "Even financed through personal a.s.sets...those are still resources that could be applied to more pressing needs."

"Yes, we'll continue to have protection," Mr. Dunaway replied, shooting Paul a look that indicated he should keep his mouth shut. Lach wasn't so sure Mooney knew how. "My running mates are Kaufman Rance and Philip Andrews. Rance is known for digging up dirt and using it any way he can to discriminate against his opponent. That kind of behavior riles up the public and I don't want to have to waste time going through this again. We'll be individually protected by CSA details until the Secret Service takes over. Subsequently, I'll maintain a CSA personal security representative until the election."

Phoebe tucked her hair behind her ears, although the strands had already been securely in place. The habit she had also seemed to be a nervous tick when she was uncomfortable and Lach wondered which part of what her father said made her agitated. Was it the fact that people would form opinions not in their favor over something untrue? Or was there something she didn't want publicized?

"Getting back to how this will work, three details of armed guards will be provided for each of you." Connor's phone must have vibrated, for he stopped speaking briefly to pull it out of his jacket and look at the display. He promptly darkened the screen, but kept his cell in his hand. "I will oversee the detail for your father. Lach will be supervising yours and Ethan Chambers will in charge of your sister's."

"Which means?" Phoebe kept her eyes trained on Connor. Lach wondered if she would outright refuse his protection. He'd made it clear through his silence that he would do his job and keep things professional. Could she? "I just want to clarify so that I know who to give my schedule to."

"You'll give your schedule to Lach. He will then convey it to the guards that need to be aware of your appointments. As for your original question, he will be with you most of each day but he will see you to the safety of your home each evening. Since you live in an apartment building, your protection will remain right outside your door after your apartment is cleared upon your arrival. Depending on your next day's itinerary, Lach will arrive before you begin your day. Your father's detail is slightly different in that he resides at the family home, so therefore his guards will be in and around the residence."

Lach could see the relief in Phoebe's pink lips in the fact that she wouldn't need to be with him twenty-four seven. It wasn't like in the movies, but having her squirm through the last ten minutes in the uncertainty gave him a little humor in what was sure to be a long and tedious a.s.signment.

"I supplied you with the list of volunteers and employees, but I think it would be in our interests to also have Rance and Andrews investigated as well." Paul shrugged as if what he was suggesting was a given a.s.sumption in guilt. His suit appeared rumpled and not as crisp as Dunaway's, giving him a harried appearance yet his att.i.tude conveyed competence. He was in his mid-forties and grew up around politics, eventually making a name for himself in the right circles. Lach was reserving judgment on the man's character until he had time to observe him at length. His kind was always hard to read but eventually they gave away their tell. "It's not unheard of for the compet.i.tion to pull underhanded practices. It wouldn't surprise me if the threats are nothing more than rubbish from our rivals to drive Stan into doing the exact thing that's been done here today-waste money on useless protection details."

"Wasn't it you who suggested the idea?" Lach asked, unable to refrain from posing the question.

"Yes, but honestly I don't think the most expensive executive protection agency is quite what we need. Protection is protection, a gun is a gun." Paul shrugged and Connor stiffened as Lach curled his fist into the elbow crease of his black leather jacket. Mooney's ignorance was finally shining through and Lach resigned the campaign manager to his own useless pinhead list. "When a coward is confronted with both, they usually run away with their tails between their legs."

"It's pointless to go round and round with this when the decision has already been made," Phoebe exclaimed, pursing her lips. It seemed as if Mooney's ill-informed att.i.tude was also annoying her. Good. "I do have a suggestion though. My father and I both agree that Mr. McKinnon is more than capable of doing his job. No offense, Mr. Ortega. I've personally bore witness to Mr. McKinnon's expertise and I would rather he be a.s.signed to Kimmie. She still has a very independent spirit and she can be a handful."

And there it was. Lach couldn't prevent his lips from lifting at the corner and he bore his gaze into her until she had no choice but to finally meet his stare. The determination shining in Phoebe's eyes told him all he needed to know. She would try to finagle her way out of this any way she could but he knew for a fact that Mr. Dunaway had already made his decision. It wasn't that one daughter was more important than the other. The fact remained that Phoebe was more of a target based on her other activities with the Crescent Heart Foundation. In the eyes of Mr. Dunaway, Lach had already proven himself. It was pointless to let doubt creep in, particularly in this scenario where he wasn't in a van with a Bluetooth earpiece attached in his ear and trying to talk sense to a person who was in a building across the street without an ounce of sanity left. That was another lifetime ago and had no place in the here and now.

"Phoebe, the arrangements are made." Mr. Dunaway glanced at his watch, signaling to everyone that he was done with this meeting. "Crest handpicked every one of his team members. Connor, Paul will provide you with my itinerary and I will fill in my personal meetings as well. Sweetheart, why don't you call it a night and have Lach follow you home. He'll introduce you to the gentleman on the night shift and the other introductions will take place tomorrow before that interview you have with that talk show, Daytime America. That is, after our press conference."

Lach waited for Phoebe to argue with her father, all the while Lach's mind spinning with the preparations he would need to ensure were taken if she were to go on live television. He made a mental note to find out where the interview would be taking place and speak with the people in charge. Those types of events tended to turn into cl.u.s.terf.u.c.ks if not overseen personally.

"Fine. We'll play it your way for now, Dad." Phoebe stood and held out her hand to Connor. "Mr. Ortega, please take good care of my father. Between you and me, he thinks he's ten feet tall and bulletproof."

"Don't go telling stories, girl," Mr. Dunaway said good-naturedly, the lines that had been running across his forehead fading away as his worries were eased. Phoebe was caving a little too easily for Lach's comfort, but he'd go with it. He could handle anything she threw his way. This professional spin on their relationship was no different. "Paul, I still need to talk to you regarding the poll numbers from this morning."

"My car's parked behind the building," Phoebe said, having walked around the other men and placed herself in front of Lach. She tilted her head and met his gaze, her displeasure evident. "I think some ground rules need to be made, don't you?"

"Yes, ma'am," Lach murmured from his position up against the window, watching her blue eyes darken like they had when they'd been in Iraq. A rush of something he refused to name ran through him, but his promise to Crest was like an immediate dam. "I couldn't agree more."

Phoebe made her exit, leaving an intoxicating fragrance in her wake. Lach's gaze dropped down to the way her gray pants hugged her a.s.s and he figured it was a good thing that he was an honorable man with vast depths of self-restraint. Any involvement with her personally right now would have only affected his judgment. He'd been there and done that before and he'd prefer that the two were separated.

"You got your hands full on that one, devil dog," Connor muttered, coming to stand next to him as they both watched Phoebe walk through the rabbit warren of cubicles they all referred to as the bullpen. The tag Connor had called Lach made him smile. Marines had been dubbed devil dogs or Teufel Hunden back during World War I, when their predecessors had taken the Belleau Wood from a crack German outfit. Their war cry had sounded like the bark of a hound from h.e.l.l through their gas masks, thus earning them that name. Lach knew he'd have to have that killer determination in the coming months and gave his friend a nod of agreement. "Ready?"

"Lock and c.o.c.ked."

Lach pushed himself into a standing position and let his arms drop to his side. He took a moment to shake hands with Mr. Dunaway and then proceeded to follow the objective of his Personal Security Detachment, also known as PSD. He wasn't relishing the upcoming conversation, but it would most certainly take place and guidelines would be drawn. He'd always liked when things went according to plan.

Chapter Six.

Phoebe heard Lach close and deadbolt the metal clad security door behind them as they stepped into her warm apartment. The light scent of salted caramel greeted her from the unlit candles sitting in their crystal sconces in the foyer as she unb.u.t.toned her long beige dress coat. She glanced into the living room as she placed her Gucci purse on the Eloquence Avignon drapery table. She noticed that the long outer drapes were open to reveal the golden-lit city of Minneapolis through the thin veil of gossamer sheers framed by the silk panels and textured matching burgundy valances. She let the heavy material of her woolen coat fall from her shoulders and hung it on an antique wooden coat rack with bra.s.s fittings that she'd purchased in Stillwater. All of these minute details that she was processing did nothing to still her heart at having Lach inside her personal s.p.a.ce.

"John seems like a nice man," Phoebe said, knowing the guard outside her door was a safe topic for now. She turned back to face Lach and was proud of herself for breaking the ice. Unfortunately, he wasn't where he'd been three seconds prior. She caught sight of his form walking through the kitchen to her left. Exasperation flowed through her at his erratic behavior. For a moment, it seemed as if he'd blended in with the black cabinets, as his leather jacket seemed to camouflage his large shoulders. It was almost laughable. Her father had dubbed him correctly as a t.i.tan. "Lach? John said he'd already swept the rooms."

"I'll be right back. I need to know the layout for myself."

Phoebe rolled her eyes as she watched him go through her apartment, including the master and guest suite off to the left on the opposite side of the kitchen. It was obvious he was doing some sort of search and though she wanted to tell him how ridiculous it was, she had a feeling it would only p.i.s.s him off. That wasn't what she was going for at this precise moment, so she held her tongue and went to the custom designed wine bar located under the long granite island and pulled out one of her favorite red wines, a 2010 Domaine Gayda Freestyle Rouge.

Glancing over the countertop and into her living room, Phoebe wondered what he thought of her decor. The earth tones of the furniture were set off by yellows and reds, along with the abstract art she'd personally collected from far flung places over the years during her travels. It was silly, she presumed, but a part of her wanted Lach to be impressed. This apartment wasn't paid for by money from her trust fund, though her tastes ran a bit on the ostentatious side. They were treasures she'd earned. She'd worked hard for every dollar she'd made at running her mother's foundation and the volunteer time she put into the missions were her being able to give back, along with keeping Annabelle Dunaway's memory alive.

Phoebe could hear voices in the hallway, and before she'd reached for her Code-38 wine knife two things happened at once. Lach came back from the bedrooms with his weapon drawn and the front door burst open, revealing Kimmie having words with the man who'd followed her out of the building earlier that day. Chaos seemed to arrive as her younger sister's guest.

"If you think I'm going to knock on my sister's door, think again, rent-a-cop." Kimmie tossed her tote near the table in the front entryway and then continued walking until she was at the gla.s.s front Sub-Zero refrigerator, pulling the door open for her favorite Lacroix carbonated water. "Phoebe, tell him. Especially since when we've had security before this was never an issue."

"Then they were f.u.c.k-ups and more than likely would get you killed."

"Ethan," Lach said, holstering his weapon as he came to a stop on the other side on the island, "Phoebe."

Phoebe refrained from saying something sarcastic at Lach's abrupt introduction and held out her arm in greeting. The boy-next-door type of man firmly shook her hand, although his frustration with her sister was evident. He wasn't alone, but that didn't mean this tiny subject matter couldn't be smoothed away. She smiled and tilted her head.

"It's a pleasure, Ethan. I'm sure you're very good at your job, but there are certain things that must remain the same if my sister and I are to retain any sense of normalcy." Phoebe quickly glanced over at Kimmie, wondering what she was even doing here to begin with. She should have been at her evening cla.s.s. When a warm sensation ran up Phoebe's back, she knew Lach's heated gaze was locked onto her. This wasn't how she'd wanted the evening to go either, but maybe it was for the best. She'd yet to clearly think through the rules she wanted in place if Lach were going to continue watching over her. "You need to understand that my father's decision to hire CSA came as a bit of a surprise to us. It's going to take some getting used to."

"And you need to understand that we are here to keep you alive," Lach interjected, causing her to turn slightly so that both men were in her vision. His arms were crossed in his usual fashion and his dark eyes signaled his resolve. "As does your impetuous sister."

"I'm right here," Kimmie called out, swirling her water bottle in the air. She walked around the other side of the kitchen, behind Lach, and finally settled herself onto the couch. "I told Ethan that I didn't mind him tagging along behind me, but that doesn't mean I'm going to knock on my sister's door. Or my family's home, for that matter."

"To make things easier, why doesn't Kimmie spend the night here and we'll talk things through?" Phoebe ignored Kimmie's dirty look as she went about soothing Ethan's ruffled feathers. "We do appreciate what you've been hired to do and we'll do everything we can to make things more convenient for everyone."

"Kimmie, I'll be back at zero six hundred tomorrow morning to introduce you to your first-shift guard." Ethan shared a private look with Lach that was hard for Phoebe to decipher. "I'll also need your schedule if it differs from the cla.s.s calendar I already have."

"I'll print one out." Phoebe could see Kimmie's growing regret at having caused such a ruckus and she exhaled a sigh. She always reacted before thinking things through. "Ethan, I really don't mind having guards, but the moment it interferes with me being who I am or with my family, I get p.i.s.sy."

Ethan nodded but remained silent, apparently not willing to forgive quite so easily. He then turned back toward the front door. Lach didn't follow, but instead waited for the door to click shut behind his co-worker. Phoebe waited to see what Lach would say or do, her nerves stretched a little thin. They hadn't spoken about their past or resolved their immediate future. She caught the slight move of his head, indicating that he wanted her to follow him into the entryway. He disappeared from view as he walked around the divider and into the foyer. She made sure that she stopped a foot away from him, but he stepped forward until their bodies were inches from each other and she was forced to look up at him. She swallowed hard but did her best to ensure he didn't see how much he affected her.

"Zero six hundred. When Ethan and Kimmie leave, we'll have our discussion." Lach stepped around her and reached for the doork.n.o.b before looking over his shoulder. "You have a travel trunk inside your closet. Large enough for somebody to hide in, but it was locked. Keep it that way."

Phoebe felt a flush start low and work its way up, but she steadfastly remained silent and gave a nod of agreement. She knew he brought it up due to security reasons and he had no idea what she kept inside, but it didn't stop the mortification that had it not been locked he would have known her secret. He walked out the door without another word.

"He's definitely hot," Kimmie exclaimed from way over where she still sat on the couch. Phoebe finally took in some much needed oxygen and turned on her heels before joining her sister. She was fanning herself. "You failed to mention that when you came back from Iraq."

"Would you please stop giving Ethan such a hard time?"

Phoebe kicked off her uncomfortable Prada shoes and felt immediate relief. She looked longingly into the kitchen where her wine still remained in the bottle on the cool granite counter. A little alcohol would definitely take the edge off that Lach seemed to continually have her on. How would she get through the upcoming months with him at her side?

"I wasn't talking about Ethan, although he's definitely got some s.e.xy going on. Did you see that dimple?"

"Dimple?" Phoebe noticed that the man hadn't cracked a smile, so no-she hadn't seen any such thing on Ethan. It didn't help that Lach had this magnetism about him, as if he had his own planetary pull that kept her attention focused on him like gravity. She needed to depolarize him. "I didn't notice, but he's a little old for you, isn't he? Dad mentioned he was around my age."

"Old? I'm in my mid-twenties, so I'd hardly cla.s.sify him as being outside my window. Anyway, he seems fascinated by this woman named Fallon, not that he would admit it. I think she works for the FBI or something." Kimmie sat cross-legged on the couch, a bundle of perpetual energy that Phoebe was in awe of. "He got a text from her while I was talking to some cla.s.smates. Our teacher got food poisoning and cancelled cla.s.s at the last minute."

"You are just a wealth of information." Phoebe finally got enough oomph to get up from the couch to pour herself a gla.s.s of wine. She went about trying to remember what she'd done with the wine knife as she pulled a fresh gla.s.s from the rack. She didn't bother to offer any to Kimmie. Her sister wasn't much of a drinker and she preferred her vile tasting carbonated waters to the sophisticated taste of wine. "Ethan just happened to volunteer this information?"

"Let's just say I read between the lines."

"You mean you read the text over his shoulder," Phoebe corrected, knowing how Kimmie operated. Ethan would be pulling his hair out by the time his detail ended. "He'll never look at his phone with you around again."

"He said something similar, if I remember correctly." Kimmie made a face and then pulled her brown hair over her shoulder, playing with the strands. Her eyes zeroed in and Phoebe knew her luck had run out. Seconds ticked by and she used the time to pick up her gla.s.s and swirl the red velvet liquid gently as she walked back to the chair she'd been sitting in. She hadn't yet leaned back when the declaration came at her like a bullet fresh out of the barrel. "Oh my G.o.d, you slept with Lach McKinnon. That's why you're avoiding talking about him. Holy s.h.i.t. Spill it all."

"There's nothing to spill," Phoebe answered, taking more of a gulp than a sip of the red nectar. She even closed her eyes as the taste of the wine spread throughout her mouth, warming her throat as she swallowed and calming her nerves. She let the seconds tick by until she knew Kimmie wouldn't be able to take the silence anymore. "We had a brief moment of L'extase and then it was back to our own lives."

Phoebe finally looked at Kimmie, a full smile blossoming on her face. Kimmie had always been the romantic one, the one who believed in happily ever after. Phoebe had done her best to shield her sister from harsh realities after their mother had pa.s.sed away, but maybe she hadn't done Kimmie any favors. Maybe now was the time to share the unpleasant actuality that just because a man had looks didn't mean they had tact.

"Actually, the truth of the matter is that after we slept together, he had no interest in me. It happens. Spontaneity got the best of both of us and when reality returned, he made it clear it was a one-time thing. Don't go reading something into it that's not there and whatever you do don't tell Dad."

Kimmie choked on her water, and while she screwed the cap back on the bottle and got her coughing under control, Phoebe continued to sip her wine. Sharing the details was like a weight being lifted off of her shoulders. Yes, she had friends, but her closest confidant was and always would be her sister.

"Run? Lach doesn't strike me as the type to cat around," Kimmie said, after having cleared her throat multiple times. "He's...well, he's such a man. Did you see the size of his hands?"

Phoebe swore she could still feel his touch and she was in total agreement with Kimmie's statement. Lach was definitely all male, but that didn't make him any less of an a.s.s. His comment it is what it is had made her want to throw him out of that hotel window. Instead, she'd put on her public persona and handled it with what grace she could manage. She had her mother to thank for her calm nature. Unfortunately, Kimmie was a little too young to remember those lessons.

"He didn't run away like that," Phoebe corrected, twirling the stem of her winegla.s.s. Even though she felt relief sharing this with Kimmie, it was still difficult to admit out loud that Lach hadn't felt more than just something physical. She'd personally never experienced something so intimate before. "It was more of a change in his manner. He distanced himself immediately and it was obvious he didn't want to take things farther than a casual encounter."

"Bad boys never do, although some just play hard to get." Kimmie tilted her head as if she were studying Phoebe. "You always were too serious. Let me guess. It was you who ended up walking away, but you justify it as he was first because he didn't say what you wanted him to say."

"I did what he wanted me to do." Phoebe didn't like where Kimmie was headed with this. Nine times out of ten her sister always took her side. "Trust me, there weren't that many words exchanged. We dressed and then went straight to the airport. This afternoon was the first time we'd seen each other after we arrived back to the States."

"Oh man," Kimmie said, shaking her head in regret, "if I'd known all of this beforehand, I wouldn't have missed that meeting today for anything."

"You didn't miss much. I tried to talk some sense into Dad, but as usual it was like talking to a totem pole. I waited until we were done and then told Lach that we needed to discuss some ground rules."

"Like what?" Kimmie leaned forward and set her bottle of water on the coffee table, not bothering with a coaster. Phoebe sighed, knowing she'd have to wipe the ring off of the wood in the morning if she didn't get one. Right now, she was getting sleepy from the wine and a little depressed with how things had gone today. Regardless, she reached over the side of her chair and retrieved a thirsty stone, tossing it to her sister. Nothing had been resolved. "There really doesn't seem to be a lot to say, Phoebe. It happened, it's over, now move on. Let Lach do his job. Unless you're still hoping for more?"

"It's not that simple." Phoebe frowned and took another sip of wine. She tried to explain the situation again. "Lach runs hot and cold. Do you know what he said to me in Africa? He told me that I was a spoiled little rich girl. And then when he showed up in Iraq, he kissed me, which led into us having s.e.x. Afterwards, he acted like it was an everyday occurrence and-"

"You are still attracted to him," Kimmie said, interrupting with a smile on her face. "You want to lay down rules so that you don't go falling into his bed the minute he smiles. Speaking of which, did you notice that none of the men seem to smile? Ethan did once, but that was only because Fallon texted him."

Phoebe downed the rest of her wine, knowing full well she wasn't going to get Kimmie to understand the predicament she was in. Having Lach around as a reminder that she wasn't good enough for anything more than casual s.e.x wasn't conducive to a good working relationship. Technically, it was the first time that she'd been the one placed in that position and she found that she didn't like being dismissed. It was usually she who had to set limits, due to who she was or, more to the point, who her father was. Being with a U.S. Senator's daughter came in handy for those men who aspired for a political career and needed a social ally. Kimmie had spent the majority of her adult life on campus, so she hadn't yet experienced what Phoebe had.

"Kimmie, guidelines have to be made and implemented." Phoebe stood and then walked to the kitchen to place her wine gla.s.s in the sink. "Lach made his position clearly known, as have I. He's being paid to make sure that my safety is ensured and I'm to represent the family for Dad's campaign. Neither one of us can afford for things to get sticky."