“Should I be doing something to protect my device?”
Callie wagged her head. “Ava can get you set up with a few security features that will help. It won’t be foolproof, but it will slow a hacker down.”
Daphne made a mental note to follow up with her once they sorted out James’s mess.
“You and Lovell?” Callie said.
Daphne’s eyes jerked up. Her sister studied her. Disconcertingly, she couldn’t tell what Callie thought about the possibility.
“Things were intense last night,” she said, testing the waters.
“So you jumped into bed?”
For the first time, Daphne had a sense of how good an FBI agent her sister had been—just the right amount of curiosity with no judgment in her question. An invitation to confess her sins.
“Not exactly,” Daphne replied, picking her spoon up again and swirling it in the semi-melted ice cream and caramel sauce.
Silence.
Daphne sighed. “If it bothers you, we’ll stop.”
“Could you?” Callie asked. She looked up in question. “If I told you it bothered me and that I didn’t want you to take things further, would you stop? Could you?”
Daphne sat back. “Not the question I was anticipating.”
Callie shrugged. “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but if you would or could stop because I ask you to, maybe you shouldn’t be doing whatever it is you’re doing. And no, I don’t want the details.”
An interesting perspective. One Daphne hadn’t considered. If whatever was happening with James meant so little to her that she could walk away at a simple request, should she really be doing it? People had sex for all sorts of reasons: because it felt good, it was how they found validation, the moment and person felt right, or they hoped for more. Some reasons were healthier than others, and she firmly believed that there was nothing wrong with enjoying a partner for the sake of enjoying each other, and that not every person she was intimate with had to be more than that.
But not every person she’d been with—not that there’d been a ton—came with the same complications as James. Her sister’s brother-in-law, for heaven’s sake. Complicated didn’t even begin to describe how things might shake out if the two of them were on different pages. Which meant she needed to figure out not only what page he was on, but what pageshewas on.
And to Callie’s point, if this was nothing more than a situational fling, maybe they’d better rethink things. Was it worth introducing the risk of complications for something they enjoyed but didn’t put any stock in?
“Can I get back to you?” she replied, chagrined. That she hesitated made her think shedidin fact know the answer but wasn’t prepared to face it yet. Because if James meant nothing more than a casual fling,thatsentiment was an easy one to recognize.
“Get back to her on what?” Gabe asked, entering the room with a canvas sling full of wood. James followed carrying a similar contraption. He wore his coat so she couldn’t see the bulge of his muscles, but she was intimately familiar with what they looked like. And how they felt.
“Dinner tomorrow,” Callie said. “We’ll have to see how the storm goes.”
Gabe slid her some side-eye. Callie responded with wide-eyed innocence, a look so unfamiliar on her that Daphne snorted.
The guys made another trip as the conversation turned to much more mundane topics. By the time they filled the woodbin, it was time for her and James to leave. They still had to stop at the store, and flurries were already starting.
Promising to call in the morning, Daphne kissed both Gabe and Callie on the cheek before darting to her car, parked in the driveway. James followed, unlocking it before she reached the passenger side, where she clambered in, leaving him to drive. She liked driving as much as the next person, but he seemed to love it, and riding shotgun gave her a chance to watch the scenery.
“Where did you learn to drive like you did?” he asked, backing out of the driveway.
She looked over. “Like I did?”
“The day you ran Weeks and Beeks off the road. I didn’t see it happen, but it didn’t look like it happened by chance.”
She chuckled, memories vibrating through her chest. “It was not by chance. I met a lot of interesting people when I was modeling. Some of them have helped me with specific aspects of book research since then. One of those is the driving and anti-terror tactic instructor at a very prestigious school for nannies. He taught me all sorts of fun things.”
“Nannies? For kids?”
“High-profile kids. Usually kids from royal families around the world or kids of the ultra-ultra-rich.”
“Kidnapping targets, in other words.”
