A guy who should never have been part of my life, and there were days when I wished he never had been.

Karl, the werewolf jewel thief I was supposed to capture for Tristan, my bogus council contact. Karl, who’d shown me I was actually working for a Cabal, who’d introduced me to the real council and got me a job with them. Karl, who knew why I really worked for the council—my less than honorable motivation—and not only knew, but understood.

After that first meeting, almost two years ago, he’d kept coming around, his intentions murky. Chemistry we had, and sometimes even explored, but we both seemed more comfortable with friendship. He’d show up, let me poke holes through his ego, sometimes return the favor. We’d banter for a while, then slide into confessions and concerns neither of us shared with anyone else.

When he’d hinted about coming to one of my mother’s charity galas, I’d teased that he was getting old and needing easier access to jewels. He’d joked that he wanted to meet my mother, see whether she approved of him. Then, at the Valentine’s ball at my brother’s Texas ranch, he’d shown up on the doorstep, ticket in hand.

If he’d been serious about wanting to come, we should have discussed the pros and cons of letting the supernatural side of my life seep into my family life. But the anger I’d felt on seeing him hadn’t lasted.

Charm was Karl’s specialty, but that night he’d used none of his usual too-clever charm that sent society matrons into vapors as he divested them of their jewels. My mother wouldn’t have fallen for that. Instead, Karl had charmed her by being himself—or as close to it as he ever was around others.

When the party ended, I’d given him the grand tour of the grounds. The stable visit didn’t go so well—his werewolf scent spooked the horses. When the groom had come down, wakened by the noise, we’d raced out like kids caught at a prank.

We’d stopped at the pool, tucked behind the gardens. I’d opened the gate.

He’d peered in. “I didn’t bring my bathing suit.”

“I can probably find one for you.”

“Don’t bother.”

He’d stripped off his jacket and shirt, and I’d known, even as I let my dress fall around my ankles, that this was why he’d come. To take the step we’d been dancing around for two years.

Afterward, he scooped me up out of the pool, grabbed towels from the cabana and carried me into the woods.

As perfect a night as any romantic would want. Perfect even for a cynic like me.