As the cold winter weather had set in, they’d been content to spend many an evening at home during the holiday season, watching movies and playing round after round of Monopoly with Scotty, who was shaping up to be a real estate shark in the making. He won every game. Sam couldn’t help but wonder, however, what would happen when her guys began to chafe at being stuck at home so much of the time.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” she decided. For now, she was thrilled to have a romantic evening ahead of her with the love of her life. She secured the diamond key necklace he’d given her as a wedding gift and slid on the gorgeous engagement ring she only wore when she wasn’t working. He’d told her he liked seeing it on her hand, so she wore it for him as often as possible.

In the room that served as her closet, she found a black wool coat that she tossed over her arm before she headed downstairs wearing the four-inch black Louboutin stunners with the red bottoms that Nick had bought her for Christmas. Her husband knew the way to her heart was through her shoes, and she’d found one hell of a way to thank him. She smiled when she remembered dropping to her knees before him—while wearing only the shoes—and the way his eyes had widened with surprise and then pure desire when he’d realized her intention.

As she entered the living room, the doorbell rang and the Secret Service agent working the door admitted Avery Hill, who stopped to give Sam the head-to-toe once-over before he cleared his throat and said hello.

She really wished he’d quit looking at her that way before Nick ran a rusty steak knife through the guy’s heart. Wouldn’t that make for some memorable headlines—Vice President Cappuano Charged with First-Degree, Premeditated Murder by Rusty Steak Knife of FBI Agent Who Lusted After His Wife. Story at eleven!

The thing about it, though, was that Hill was a trusted and valued colleague on the job, and he had a relationship that was starting to be long-term going with their friend and personal assistant, Shelby Faircloth. Yet every so often, he still looked at Sam like he wanted to kidnap her and drag her out of her happy home to be his sex slave.

Whoa. Where the hell had the sex slave thought come from?

“Sam?” he asked, his brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure. I’m fine. You?”

“Great. Good holiday?”

“Fantastic. You?”

“Very nice. The whole family was in Charleston for the first time in years.”

Sam sucked at small talk, but she made an effort for Shelby’s sake. She wanted Shelby to feel free to have any guest she wanted over to visit since she spent so much time at their house. Hill was at the top of Shelby’s guest list, much to Nick’s never-ending dismay.

Speak of the devil. He came into the room, and his amiable expression instantly hardened when he saw that Hill had arrived. Nick put his arm around her and kissed her temple. Not for the first time, she was grateful he didn’t lift his leg and pee on her to mark his territory in front of the agent.

“What do you think of this shit with Farnsworth and Gonzo?” Hill asked, apparently oblivious, as usual, to the fact that Nick would prefer that Hill didn’t speak to his wife—ever.

“I’m hoping it’ll blow over when something bigger happens.”

“Springer’s out for blood. He’s not going to be happy with anything less than Farnsworth’s head on a stick.”

Sam’s stomach turned at the thought of anyone other than her beloved Uncle Joe as the chief of police.

“No sense speculating on what might happen,” Nick said. “We’ve got somewhere to be. Are you ready, babe?” The Secret Service detail was hovering by the front door, waiting for the signal from Nick that they were set to go.

“Let me just say good-night to Scotty, and then I’ll be ready.”

“He’s in the kitchen with Shelby.”

Reluctant to leave Nick and Hill alone in a room together, she took hold of her husband’s hand and tugged him along with her to the kitchen, where Scotty was making pizza with Shelby. At times like this, Sam felt like a total loser as a mother because it would never occur to her to make pizza from scratch when there were perfectly good take-out numbers to call. Fortunately, Scotty didn’t seem to realize he’d landed a dud for a mother. He lit up at the sight of her and Nick the way he always did.

“Sam! Check it out! I tossed my own crust just like that chef guy on TV does it.” He’d recently turned thirteen and had grown at least two inches since he came to live with them over the summer. A member of Scotty’s Secret Service detail sat at the table reading the paper, sticking out despite his effort to be unobtrusive. They were all obtrusive, and Sam hated having them in her house. But the alternative of having Nick and Scotty unprotected was unthinkable.

“Looking good, buddy. If I tried that, the crust would be stuck to the ceiling.”

Nick patted her shoulder. “It’s best that you have your pizza delivered.”

How did he always know what she was thinking? That was one of her life’s most enduring mysteries.

“We’re heading out,” Nick said. “Are you guys all set with everything?”

“We’re good,” Shelby said, smiling at Hill, who hovered in the doorway.

Scotty nodded in agreement. “Yep.”

“Give me a hug,” Sam said.

“My hands are all dirty, and you look really nice,” Scotty said.

“I’ll risk it.”

He held his hands up and away from her while she gave him a squeeze and a kiss on the cheek. “Be good for Shelby.”

“Duh, I’m always good.”

And wasn’t that the truth? He was a good and decent boy, and they were blessed to have him in their lives. If only they could get his adoption finalized, everything would be perfect. As required by the courts, they had a private investigator looking for Scotty’s biological father, but so far their efforts hadn’t yielded any results.

“Shelby said we can have champagne at midnight.”

The tiny blonde Sam called Tinker Bell balked. “I said no such thing! Don’t get me in trouble.”

Scotty laughed at her outrage.

“I said you could stay up until midnight, but if you get me in trouble, it’s off to bed with you right now.”

“I’ll behave,” Scotty said gravely, a devilish glint in his eyes.

“Happy New Year,” Nick said.

“Same to you,” Shelby said. “Have a good time, and don’t worry about anything here.”

“Thanks, Shelby.” With a hand placed possessively on her lower back, Nick ushered Sam from the kitchen.

Hill ducked out of the way to let them pass. “Happy New Year,” he said.

“Same to you,” Sam said while Nick remained stubbornly silent.

As they stepped into the living room, the Secret Service agents sprung into action, talking on radios and doing all the stuff they did every time Nick dared to leave the house. Before her eyes, his entire body went tense, letting her know how much he detested all the hoopla.

Brant, the lead agent on his detail, waited by the front door. “Mr. Vice President, Mrs. Cappuano, we’re ready for you.”

After Nick held her coat for her, Sam squeezed his arm and smiled up at him, hoping to defuse some of his tension by reminding him that at the end of the day, it was still about the two of them. “Let’s go have some fun.”

He returned her smile and seemed to relax ever so slightly. “Let’s do it.”

Chapter Two

Nick had secured the same K Street lounge where they’d held their promotion party last year. Except this time, it was just the two of them and his detail rather than the raucous crowd of friends and family that had joined them a year ago.

“Are they closed tonight?” Sam asked.

Nick gestured to a candlelit table set for two in the middle of the big room that usually served as a bustling nightclub. “For a private party of two.”