But which government agency did he work for? In what capacity? An independent contractor perhaps? Some kind of shadowy facilitator with international ties? Her mom had found him, though, and hired him.

Or had he found her?

Rose's dad had left her mom a small fortune in the divorce. Was she planning to do something crazy with it, and Bellamy was helping her make it happen?

Whatever his deal was, it scared Rose to death. And that was a bitter aftertaste to what had been such a delicious date on the island. It suddenly left her mistrustful of him, her mom, and everyone else involved. It made her want to go back to her apartment in the city, bury her head in a mountain of work. Come back when she could be alone with her mom. No mystery men, no jerk brother, just the two of them talking about stuff and working the world out over a bottle of wine and a bag of chips.

All these men and their bullshit.

If only all men could just screw off and leave her and her mom alone. If only she could shake loose of him. If only she could stand the idea of things going back to the way they were, before he'd stirred these feelings inside her. These feelings she knew wouldn't go away anytime soon.

***

Andy and another young man, a little gormless-looking and sporting a varsity t-shirt, were leaving the building as Rose returned. They looked sullen. Andy looked hard at her, then at Bellamy, but said nothing. The other guy held the door for her, smiled politely when she thanked him.

It might be a sunny day but a shadow hung over it now. One that chilled her heart, as though bad news had been piling up all around her and she'd been oblivious to its approach; its arrival was imminent, yet she was going to be the last to know. Andy knew it, Bellamy knew it, her mom knew it. Hell, even the gormless varsity guy probably knew it.

“Do me a favor.” Propping the door open, she reached into her purse and plucked out a ratty looking twenty-dollar bill and handed it to Bellamy. “There's a grocery store about three blocks that way.” She nodded up the street. “Grab us some drinks? My feet are killing me from all that walking, but I could murder a cold beer.”

He cast her a suspicious look. “Any preference?”

“Not really. As long as it's ice cold, I'm all over it. Get some for yourself, too.”

He shrugged and leaned in to plant a delicate and reserved kiss on her cheek. “Very well.”

She fought the urge to pull him into her, to make the kiss last longer. “Cool. Don't be long.”