She shrieked with laughter as he stepped into the shower stall, fully dressed, and turned on the water.

“Idiot. I still have my boots on.”

He grinned. “Not for long.”

Chapter 10

Mel wasn’t sure how she felt about being Mrs. Donovan Ryan. It certainly seemed to her that Mary Ellen Ryan—her cover persona—was a singularly boring individual, more interested in fashion and manicures than in anything of real importance.

She had to agree it was a good setup. Damn good, she mused as she stepped out onto the deck of the house and studied the glimmer of Lake Tahoe under the moonlight.

The house itself was nothing to sneeze at. Two sprawling levels of contemporary comfort, it was tastefully furnished, decorated with bold colors to reflect the style of its owners.

Mary Ellen and Donovan Ryan, formerly of Seattle, were a modern couple who knew what they wanted.

What they wanted most, of course, was a child.

She’d been impressed with the house when they’d arrived the day before. Impressed enough to comment on the fact that she hadn’t expected the FBI to be able to provide such cozy digs so quickly. It was then that Sebastian had casually mentioned that it was one of his properties—something he’d had a whim to pick up about six months before.

Coincidence or witchcraft? Mel thought with a grimace. You be the judge.

“Ready for a night on the town, sweetheart?”

Her grimace turned into a scowl as she turned to Sebastian. “You’re not going to start calling me all those dopey names just because we’re supposed to be married.”

“Heaven forbid.” He stepped out on the deck, looking—Mel was forced to admit—about as gorgeous as a man could get in his black dinner suit. “Let’s have a look at you.”

“I put it all on,” she said, struggling not to grumble. “Right down to the underwear you set out.”

“You’re such a good sport.” The sarcasm was light and friendly, and made her lips twitch into a reluctant smile. Taking her hand, he turned her in a circle. Yes, he thought, the red evening pants had been an excellent choice. The fitted silver jacket went quite well with them, as did the ruby drops at her ears. “You look wonderful. Try to act like you believe it.”

“I hate wearing heels. And do you know what they did to my hair?”

His lips curved as he flicked a finger over it. It was sleeked back in a sassy, side-parted bob. “Very chic.”

“Easy for you to say. You didn’t have some maniacal woman with a French accent glopping up your head with God knows what, spraying stuff on it, snipping and crimping and whatnot until you wanted to scream.”

“Hard day, huh?”