She looked up at me. Her blue eyes held doubt and resolve.

“Why did I sign the contract?” she repeated.

“Yes.”

Her head tipped to the side. Her long hair was tousled and I liked the sight of her. Mussed. In my t-shirt. Here. A warm breeze cut across the deck, and she tucked a lock behind her ear.

“I didn’t know Jed was undercover. Then.”

I gave her a nod to continue.

“I wasn’t… convinced of his interest in me.”

She’d doubted me. Even last night. After.

So much had changed since then. Had her lack of trust forced her to sign the contract which in turn made the director believe her guilty? She’d completed the deal with Marshall so she’d know I wasn’t sniffing around solely to finish that job for him, which had been my original intention. Why hadn’t she told me when she’d taken me to her bed?

Shit, all those answers. I’d pushed her into revealing everything about what Macon had done. Spanked her even. It had been my goal to get her out of her head. I’d done that, but one of the results was me being in the dark about the contract because I’d made her forget all about it.

“Interest in you? Jed, are you—”

“You’ve wanted to get answers from a Wainright for months,” I snapped. “You’ve got one on the horn. Focus, Director.”

“When you’re back in the office, we need to have a talk,” she replied, her voice laced with authority. Like I gave a fuck.

“I won’t be back in the office,” I told her. “I sent my two week notice to HR this morning.”

North wasn’t the only one signing papers. Her eyes widened. Yeah, I’d surprised her right back. I had the ranch. I had this cabin. I had Jock and his family I needed to know better. I had North.

“Jed, think this through,” the director said.

I tipped North’s chin up so she couldn’t look away. My gaze shifted between her eyes and mouth.

“I have.” I spoke to my boss but studied North. The blueness of her eyes. The freckle on the side of her nose I hadn’t seen before. “Don’t worry, everyone around here thinks I’m a disgraced agent. Nothing you do now can make that worse.”

She huffed. Then sighed. “Continue, Miss Wainright.”

North swallowed, thought for a second, as if my announcement had made her forget the conversation. “I signed the Marshall contract after hours. Probably eight-thirty.”

“How long has he—Julian—been your assistant?” she asked.

“Two years.”

“He has access to all your files.”

“Yes. He knows more about what I do than I do. All good assistants are that way.”

“He had access to Macon?” she asked.