Easier said than done. Claire Morgan was one stubborn, aggravating woman. He had said everything he could to convince her, done everything he could. Well, almost everything. Gideon grimaced. He hoped it didn’t come to that. He’d spare her that if he could. But how could he help her if she wouldn’t cooperate? She either jumped onboard to save her ass or it was over.

Dragging a hand through his hair, he reminded himself that it shouldn’t matter, that she shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t be so complicated. He shouldn’t think about his attraction to her, shouldn’t think about stripping her naked and settling his body over hers.

The blare of the television greeted him as he stepped onto his porch. Someone had made himself right at home. Gideon unlocked the door and strolled into his living room, eyeing the man relaxing in his overstuffed La-Z-Boy, beer in one hand, remote control in the other.

His voice carried over the din of the television. “It’s a comfort to know the local police break in to people’s homes these days.”

“Not everyone’s home. Just yours,” Cooper corrected, his eyes never leaving the television.

“What brings you here?” Gideon noted the bag of Cheetos in Cooper’s lap—the bag taken from the top of his refrigerator. “Besides my food and television.”

“Can you believe this guy?” Cooper pointed a Cheeto at the screen, where a young man wearing pants that rode dangerously low stormed off the Jerry Springer set. “He just got the DNA test proving the kid is his, and he still refuses to believe it.”

Denial was a sore subject right now. It reminded Gideon of a particular woman and her own penchant for denying the truth. And she was the last thing he should be thinking about around this man. Cooper McPherson was no fool. He hadn’t risen to board director of the Greater Houston Area division of NODEAL by being dense. Even if he did like watching Jerry Springer reruns, the man was sharp, suspicious by nature, and one hell of an agent. And he knew Gideon. Damned well. Well enough to know when something was bothering him, but not—Gideon hoped—to know when he lied. Because in the case of Claire Morgan, he was going to have to lie through his teeth.

Gideon eased down on the couch and tossed his keys on the coffee table, uncomfortable and doing his best to hide it. Until now, Gideon had never kept anything from Cooper. They had no secrets. Never had. Cooper was like a big brother. Always around to bully and kick him in the ass when he needed it. Sometimes even when he didn’t.

“How can you watch this crap?” Gideon grunted as he yanked a pillow from behind his back to lounge more comfortably. He had to rely on the image of relaxation since his gut was knotted with tension.