“I just noticed that,” he said.

“Right. Thanks.” She unlocked the door and opened it. “So we’ll…talk.”

“You know where to find me, counselor.”

Then Rylann stepped out into the hallway and walked to the elevators. As she pushed the down button, she heard the soft click of the lock behind her.

“AND THEN YOU just left?”

Rylann shrugged at Rae’s question. “What else was I supposed to do?”

They’d scored an outdoor table at Kitsch’n, a popular neighborhood brunch place a few blocks from her apartment. Naturally, she’d called Rae that afternoon for the post-sexcapades debriefing.

Rylann drizzled syrup over her coconut-crusted French toast, continuing on as Rae took a sip of her mimosa. “It’s not like we were going to run out for coffee and pancakes. Last night was fun, but that’s all it was.”

Rae raised an eyebrow. “How much fun?”

Rylann grinned mischievously. “Three rounds of fun. Including one in the shower.” She cheekily took a bite of her French toast, saying nothing further.

Rae laughed. “Wow. Clearly, I need to find myself an ex-con. Since prison is probably the only place in this city I haven’t looked for Mr. Right yet,” she added dryly.

“What about the guy at the bar last night?” Rylann asked. “You were talking to him for a while.”

Rae sighed. “He was nice, I don’t know…” She shrugged, discouraged. “I keep waiting for this magic moment where I meet a guy and just know. But maybe that’s not what my story’s going to be.” She looked at Rylann and waved this off. “Ignore me. I don’t want to talk about my nonexistent love life today.”

“Are you sure?” Rylann asked. Actually, she had an idea on that front—she’d been trying to come up with a sneaky way to introduce Rae to a certain single, good-looking, all-American male prosecutor at the U.S. Attorney’s Office—but she didn’t have the details worked out yet. She needed to tread cautiously on that front, since Rae hated setups.

“Very sure.” Rae said emphatically. “Let’s get back to the part where you hightailed it out of the multimillion-dollar penthouse of the gorgeous billionaire heir who obviously has the hots for you big-time. You bitch.” She smiled. “Whoops. Did I just say that out loud?”

Rylann pooh-poohed this with a wave of her own. “That gorgeous billionaire heir is doing just fine. Trust me, Kyle Rhodes is not pining away in his penthouse for me. The guy goes through women faster than I go through legal pads.”

“Yeah, but you heard what his friend Dex said. About how Kyle was grinning like a fool after walking you home the night you met.”

Rylann paused at that. That was a really cute story. But still. “That was nine years ago, Rae. A lot has happened since then. He’s not some unknown, charmingly irritating grad student in a flannel shirt and work boots anymore.” She looked around, lowering her voice. “He’s the Twitter Terrorist. And I’m an assistant U.S. attorney. There’s only so far this can go. My office prosecuted Kyle just six months ago. Called him a ‘cyber-menace to society.’ Do you know how awkward it would be at work if anyone found out that he and I were sleeping together?”

“It would be weird. No doubt,” Rae said in complete agreement.

“Exactly. And I don’t want things to be weird. I’ve got plans for that office—like kicking butt and making a name for myself. And that name is not going to be ‘That New Girl Who Boned the Twitter Terrorist.’ “

“Uh-oh.” Rae grimaced. “Then I hate to be the one to break this to you…but you and Kyle are in this morning’s Scene and Heard column.”

Rylann’s heart stopped. “What? No.”

“Not your name,” Rae said quickly. She took out her iPhone and pulled up the gossip column online. “I’d been waiting to mention this, thinking you were going to get a kick out of it. Guess I called that one wrong.” She began reading out loud. ” ‘Kyle Rhodes, Chicago’s Twitter Terrorist and son of billionaire businessman Grey Rhodes, made his return to the social scene at the much-anticipated opening of Gold Coast hot spot Firelight, where he was spotted cozying up to an unknown brunette bombshell wearing a knockout red dress. Sources say the couple shared several drinks and appeared to have eyes only for each other as they left the nightclub together…’ “

Stunned, Rylann said nothing for a moment.

She cursed the red magic boob dress.

“On the bright side, they did call you a brunette bombshell,” Rae said.

And under different circumstances, Rylann would’ve preened shamelessly for at least two or three minutes over that, but right now she was too busy panicking. Back in March, there’d been that picture of her and Kyle in court, the one that had been blasted all over the media. If anyone connected the dots between that and the “brunette bombshell” he’d been seen with last night…

Not good.

“They don’t have any photographs of Kyle and me at the club, do they?” she asked anxiously.

“Just another one of him staring at your boobs.” Rae put down her phone, seeing Rylann’s face. “I’m kidding. Take a deep breath, Ry. You’re fine. No one will know this is you. It’s a big city, with lots of brunettes.”

“Right.” Rylann exhaled, slowly climbing down off the ledge and thinking how close she’d come to carelessly blowing her cover.

Too close.

ON HER WAY home from the restaurant, Rylann’s cell phone rang. For a moment, as she dug around in her purse to find it, she wondered if it would be Kyle, calling her about the Scene and Heard column. She could practically hear his low, teasing voice already. Just calling to check up on my favorite brunette bombshell, counselor. Thought I’d see if you’d be up for round four tonight.

Rylann finally found her phone.

Oh. Just her mother.

“Mom…hi,” she answered.

“Looks like I was right to warn you about that Kyle Rhodes.”

Rylann stopped at a four-way intersection, immediately on high alert. How could her mother, down in Florida, possibly know anything? So she played it cool. “Not sure what you mean, Mom.”

“I was just reading the Trib online,” Helen said. “The Twitter Terrorist made the Scene and Heard column again.”

“You read Scene and Heard?” Rylann asked.

“Sure. How else am I supposed to keep up with all the local gossip while we’re down here for the winter?”

And by winter, she meant early May. “I haven’t seen this morning’s column,” Rylann said. And technically, that was true—she’d only heard it. “I was busy this morning, then went to lunch with Rae. I’m just walking home now.”

“Apparently, he was spotted at some hot new nightclub. Leaving with a mysterious brunette bombshell in a red dress. Probably some skank he met that night.”

Then her mother changed the subject, cheerfully moving on. “Anyway, what’s new with you, sweetie? Did you do anything exciting last night?”

Yes. Kyle Rhodes. “Um, nothing special. Rae and I went out for a few drinks.” Rylann figured it was best to gloss over the rest of the details, seeing how her mother had just called her a skank. “Out of curiosity, what’s with all the animosity toward Kyle Rhodes? You don’t even know him.”

“I told you. I didn’t like the way he was looking at you in that photo,” she said. “Who looks at a woman, a perfect stranger, like that in a courtroom of all places? My firm used to represent men like him all the time. Wealthy, charming, think they own the world and can get away with anything.”

“It’s not like he killed anyone, Mom. He shut down Twitter,” Rylann said. She knew she sounded a bit defensive, but her mother’s words bothered her. She’d seen firsthand the real Kyle Rhodes—the guy who, despite everything, had voluntarily helped her in the Quinn case. Yes, he had his flaws, but there were good parts, too. And not just the naked parts.