She’d looked up and seen Leina and Shannon smirking knowingly at her. But what did they know?
They’d just fallen for men they worked with; that was all.
He’d introduced her to other parents as Jac. That was it. Nothing about them not being related or anything, or them working together. Nothing. Just Jac.
Half the people had assumed she was Emery’s mother. Max’s wife.
When she’d looked at Max after the fourteenth time she’d been told she and Emery looked just alike—they didn’t—he’d just grinned wickedly.
But she’d seen the shadows in his eyes. The director had said something that had upset Max. In a way that had him going quieter than normal. More pensive.
Max was a talker. He always had been. Talkative, outgoing, but reserved with personal information. He had friends, but he kept a bit of a wall between him and them, sometimes.
Except with her. Max had once been so different with her.
He bought her a funnel cake. Jac studied him as the powdered sugar got all over her mouth.
Max reached out, brushed his thumb over her bottom lip.
His eyes burned as he looked at her.
For a moment, the world narrowed to just her and Max, even though they were in a sea of people. Her mouth instantly went dry. Her skin tingled.
There was hunger in those eyes.
And not for funnel cake.
Jac just knew that.
Emery pulled them out of it, demanding Jac’s attention.
But his touch felt different. Far less casual and a whole lot less platonic.
The next time he touched her, she knew the man was doing it deliberately.
Jac spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out exactly what that man was up to now.
16
Paul had watched Jaclyn Jones, comparing her to Rachel all evening long. He would admit it: his wife hadn’t measured favorably. The redheaded woman was very attractive—and she knew her way around the elite.
Those parents had finally arrived an hour after the carnival had begun. Even the mayor had been there. Jaclyn had spoken with him for several moments, perfectly comfortable with someone of the mayor’s stature.
When he’d been given the name of the computer analyst for the Complex Crimes Unit that he was supposed to dig up dirt on for the corporation’s future use, two days after the carnival, he had just known.
It was a sign. A given. Meant to be.
He’d made love to Rachel that night while imagining Jaclyn in Rachel’s place. It had been the best sex he’d had in a long, long time. Paul always had enjoyed fantasizing.
But now…he had to do what was needed to secure that money. Tuition for the winter term was due in two weeks. And he wanted to move Ava into kindergarten early. She was certainly clever enough, but it might take a sizeable donation to achieve. The school could be resistant because of her age, though there had been grade advancements made before.
He’d managed it with Olivia.
It took little to get himself inside the reasonably sized ranch-style home that Jaclyn owned. For an experienced FBI agent, Paul would have expected Jaclyn to have better security on her home.
Of course, Rachel had stated that it was a new place. Still, the system she had wasn’t sophisticated. He was in within moments.
Perhaps she felt that she had nothing to worry about. That she was safe where she was. It was a nice neighborhood. Not as affluent as Paul’s, of course. But he had worked hard to build his IT consultant business over the last five years, narrowing his market focus to only the more lucrative government contracts.
He was also thirteen years older than Jaclyn. Paul had had time to build on the company he had inherited from his brother.
Time Jaclyn hadn’t had yet. At a year younger than Rachel, Jaclyn was young enough to still be building her profession. And her investment portfolio. She had a very healthy investment portfolio.
The woman didn’t have to be working at all. That she did was just another contradiction that fascinated him.
Paul was routinely fascinated by the women he watched.
He had dug deeply into her human resources file. Learned all about her that he could. Even her psych evals had been in those files. It had started off with him looking for information to be used against her.
But that had changed within a few hours. He’d found himself becoming intrigued by her. She was a fascinating, brilliant woman. One that pulled him on every level. Her background as a diplomat’s daughter was absolutely impeccable.
She had connections he once would have cut off his own arm to make.
Perhaps, he should encourage Rachel to cultivate a relationship with Jaclyn. It could be advantageous.
He stepped inside the midsized, midcentury ranch-style home confidently, just south of the city. If anyone was watching, it would look as if he belonged. A guest, perhaps.
The house smelled feminine. There had been flowers on the porch. Mums, he believed they were called. Rachel loved flowers as well. It was something feminine that she and Jaclyn shared.
Paul had to admit flowers were a nice touch to making a home.
Rachel…she didn’t compare to Jaclyn now.
Rachel was questioning him too often about where the extra funds were coming from. She’d found files; files she knew he wasn’t supposed to have.
Files on people she knew from Brynlock.
That could prove very dangerous. If she opened her mouth to the wrong people, it could ruin everything Paul was working toward. Or it could get them the wrong sort of attention.
He couldn’t afford for her to blow this opportunity for him. For them, for the children. He would have to discuss that with her again—once he found out what he could about this new friend of hers.
The hallway had hardwood. It looked like someone had recently repaired it. He wondered if it had been Jaclyn or if she had paid to let strangers into her house to do it. Her
