Springing forward, he grabbed her wrist and she gasped. "You know, I might have reconsidered it if you hadnt pulled this last stunt."

"Stunt?"

"Sleeping with me."

"We made love."

"It takes two to do that. I still dont know what you got out of it except three o.r.g.a.s.ms."

Oh, G.o.d, Dylan. Yes, right there. I cant believe...

"I told you why I did it."

"You knew youd never have a chance to f.u.c.k me again."

She looked at his hand vising her wrist. "Youre hurting me, Dylan."

Letting go of her, he stood, dug in his pocket and threw some money on the table. "Then were even. Youll get a second chance when h.e.l.l freezes over."

Giving her his back, he stormed out of the restaurant. She watched as he turned up the collar of his leather coat and headed south. Swallowing hard, she chose to get mad.

Deciding to help out with lunch, Dylan went to the pub. Its warm interior, the rich scent of food and the camaraderie among his family always made him feel better. The noon crowd hadnt arrived and he found his brothers gathered around the bar, staring at something. His stomach tightened when he saw Aidan, who didnt yet know about the segment in Rachels show on his wedding.

When he reached them, he put his hand on Aidans shoulder. "Hey, buddy."

Aidan turned. A rested, happy and satisfied expression claimed his face. Had Dylan ever felt that way? "How was the honeymoon?"

Hugging him first, Aidan grinned from ear to ear. "Wonderful. Im even sappier now." His eyes teared. "h.e.l.l, Im gonna be a dad."

They hadnt had much time before he left for Hawaii to discuss C.J.s announcement at the wedding, which poleaxed them all, even her six beautiful sisters. "Youll finally be one of us." There were times to bust b.a.l.l.s and times to be genuine. "Its the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Hows Hogan?"

"Still on February break in Paris with his mother. It killed him to miss the wedding." Stephanie had made the arrangements for him to go to her place in France before Aidan and C.J. set a date. She refused to change her plans.

"We all missed him. He gonna be okay with her over there?"

"The jurys out on that one." Dylan hoped she didnt leave his fourteen year old son alone too much. Hogan was a good kid, but hed get in trouble, even in a foreign country, if his mother spurned him again. Sometimes, Dylans dislike of his ex-wife and how she handled his boy bordered on hate.

To change the subject, he pointed to what was spread over the bar. "Pictures?"

"Uh-huh. The resort in Hawaii was beautiful and just what we needed to reconnect."

Patrick rolled his eyes. "Christ, boy, if you two connect any more than you already are, youre gonna burn yourselves up."

"Nah. You know we had a hard time after she got shot." C.J. had been on protective duty for a foreign dignitary and had gotten hurt during an attack.

"That I do, little bro."

Dylan nudged Pat out of the way. "Let me see the photos."

There were about twenty of them spread out on the dark oak surface. Each one was better than the next: teal blue water, glittering sunshine, breathtaking sunsets. "Gorgeous, kiddo."

He snuck a picture from his case. "Not as gorgeous as this one." It was a shot of C.J., in a beautiful white sundress, tanned, her hair lightened. Her face glowed.

Liam smiled. "Holy Cow, Aidan, Ive never seen anything like that."

"Yeah, too bad I cant publish it anywhere." Aidans photos were well received worldwide because they were so good, but he refused to capitalize on Baileys fame or C.J.s history with her.

Liam left and came back with four bowls of stew. They sat at a table, eating heartily. Afterward, Aidan said, "So, whatd I miss?"

h.e.l.l, his brother was going to blow up when he heard. Bailey had given them all nicknames, and Aidans was The Peacemaker. He wouldnt run to type today, and Dylan regretted that hed ruin his brothers mood.

"Rachel Scott published photos of your wedding."

As expected, Aidan let out a string of obscenities. When Dylan explained it was his fault, Aidan managed to calm down. Though the brothers fought, when it counted, they were there for each other. "I dont blame you. I blame that b.i.t.c.h."

"I should have made her leave. But its water under the bridge. I saw her this morning, by the way."

"Where?" Patrick asked.

"She called, wanted to talk to me. Jesus, she showed up at nine a.m. with war paint and hair done like she was going to the opera."

"Let me guess," Liam said, "She wanted a second column from you."

"Whatd you say?" Aidan asked.

"That itd be a cold day in h.e.l.l." His cell phone rang and he checked the ID. "I have to get this. Its my editor."

"Hi, Herb. Whats up?" The mans gravelly voice rumbled over the phone. "I have instructions from on high, aka Mayor Jacobs office by way of the CEO of CitySights, that youre to give Rachel Scott an investigative interview."

"Excuse me?"

"The owners of the network want you to do for her what you do for most of your columns. Apparently, NSMBC has friends in high places. I know this concerns your family, but if you want to keep your column-the CEOs threat, not mine-you have no choice."

"f.u.c.k," he spat out after he disconnected.

"Hogan?" Liam asked. "No, my editor. Looks like the temperature just dropped below thirty-two degrees in the underworld." He explained his bosss instructions.

"Are we ever going to get her out of our lives?" Aidan asked.

"Maybe Dylan should seduce her." Of course Pat was joking. "Keep her quiet with s.e.x."

"Ill bet shes frigid as h.e.l.l." This from Aidan.

Liam said, "Come on, guys. Lets not bad-mouth her. Shes got a job to do." He smiled at Dylan. "Still, if you spent some time with her, you could keep an eye on her."

Dylan didnt respond. His brothers couldnt be any more wrong. Though he hadnt done it to control her, having s.e.x with Rachel had no effect on her betrayal of the ONeil family.

Sighing, he refused to let the notion hurt.

"So, beautiful, how did you snag this one?"

Rachel glanced up to see Rubin Raskin standing in her office doorway. Her s.p.a.ce was big, airy, with two windows and had been professionally decorated in blues, greens and a hint of peach. Behind him in the large newsroom, the staffs low murmurs and ringing phones drifted into her office.

Her colleague and the man she preceded on nightly cable-news network NSMBC alternated being a staunch supporter and, like now, somewhat sarcastic about her success. Incredibly handsome with ma.s.ses of light-colored hair and nearly gray eyes, Rubin was a favorite of the audiences, who seemed to love his wit and his charm. Just like her in some ways. Though she tried not to capitalize on her looks, she knew theyd helped her rise in the media world.

"Snag what?" she asked, marshaling her defenses.

"Havent you heard? Your producer is in heaven. Youre getting Dylan ONeil to follow you around for a while. The First Ladys brother."

"Shes not the First Lady yet. The president came through the surgery just fine." Rachel hated that some people had declared Mark Langley as permanently incapacitated. Shed done a segment on the tasteless nomenclature.

"Whatever." Leaning back against the doorjamb, Rubin crossed his ankles.

"When does he start?" she asked him.

"You mean you dont know that, either?"

"No."

They both looked up when Crane Davis came to the doorway. Nearly fifty, with gray hair and a still-fit build, he was always in her corner. "I got good news."

"Raskin beat you to the punch. Howd it happen?"

Crane gave Rubin a disapproving look. "John Walsh"-the top network official-"called the mayor, who called the CEO of CitySights. Since the acting president of the United States was a former New York senator, the mayor wants things smoothed over between ONeil and you."

Inside Rachel a war battled: Yay! she was going to see Dylan regularly. And: Oh, no, she was going to see Dylan regularly. "How will it go down?" she asked as neutrally as she could.

Turning to Rubin, Crane said, "Could you give us some s.p.a.ce, Raskin?"

Scowling, Rubin nodded and left.

Crane closed the door and sat across from her. "ONeil will investigate you in three ways. Hes allowed to scrutinize all your previous stories for any kind of mishandlings; he gets to follow you around your job and go on a.s.signments with you."

"Thats not too bad."

"Theres one more thing. He insists on being filled in on your background. By you."

"No way."

Cranes eyes were clear and caring. "Its a deal breaker and we cant afford to break this particular deal, Rach."

Exasperated, she leaned back in her chair. She had secrets she didnt want anybody to know about. "What exactly does my background consist of?"

"Youll have to ask him."

Her phone buzzed. The intercom speaker said, "You have a phone call, Rachel."

She knew, she knew who it was.

"Dylan ONeil."

d.a.m.n.

"Put him through," Crane said to her, "and play nice. This is the chance you wanted. And itll get you places." Crane was pulling for her to get the foreign reporter a.s.signment and was planning to be part of her team.

When Crane left, Rachel picked up the phone. "Rachel Scott."

"You won." Dylans deep baritone came across the phone lines. Even angry, his voice skittered across her nerves.

"Not quite. Ill go along with the first two requirements but not the last. You dont have a right to pry into my background."

"I check out the background of all the subjects I investigate. Im meeting with the KPRAY people this afternoon to start the process. Ill be digging into everything about them."

"Into their personal lives?"

"Yeah, to see what their motivation might be."

She got up and closed the office door Crane had left ajar, then whispered into the phone, "You didnt sleep with those others, Dylan."

"Nope. And believe me, Ill never make the mistake of sleeping with the enemy again."

She couldnt control the little gasp that escaped her. "Were not enemies, Dylan."

"Yes, Miss America, we are. So, Im free tomorrow morning. Come to my office with a list of the projects youve worked on. Well start to get to know each other then."

She hated his autocratic tone. But she agreed, wishing like h.e.l.l she hated everything else about him.

Chapter 4.

The offices of KPRAY broadcasting were in the Village, not far from the pub, which surprised Dylan as much as their modest size. Up a flight of stairs, seven private offices with several cubicles and tables filled the main area. They employed twenty workers; one met Dylan before he could wander around. "Mr. ONeil, Im Jamie Linton."

Hed expected a man, maybe in a suit, maybe older. This woman looked about thirty with short red hair, freckles, wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that read Come Pray with Us.

"Youre managing producer of the station?"