She ignored his hand. “Watch me.” She turned in her heels and walked away from the car, heading through the semi-plowed, snow- and ice-covered parking lot toward the entrance of division headquarters.

So help him, she didn’t slip once.

Huxley stopped at Nick’s side. “You could’ve given me a sign that you planned to question her in the car. Why not wait to bring up Eckhart at the office?”

“I wanted to catch her off guard. We needed to make sure she wasn’t one of the flavors of the month.”

“You think it’s a good idea to piss her off like this? We’re about to ask her to work with us.”

“She’ll cooperate.” Of that, Nick had no doubt. He’d known it about thirty seconds after walking into her store, when he saw the anxious look on her face when they’d first mentioned her brother.

Has Kyle been hurt?

Jordan Rhodes may not have liked him very much, but she was obviously concerned about her brother. At the end of the day, that was all that mattered.

THE TWO AGENTS led Jordan to a conference room on the eleventh floor and told her to make herself comfortable while they “retrieved a file.” She suspected this was FBI code for something shady, but wasn’t exactly sure what. All she knew was that after Agent McCall’s not-so-innocent questioning during the car ride over, she had her eye on him. Two of them, in fact.

She removed her coat, scarf, and gloves, and brushed the snow off her boots. Yes, fine, as McCall had annoyingly pointed out, her Christian Louboutins weren’t exactly hardy, all-weather footwear. And back at the store, when she’d grabbed her coat from the back room, she had thought momentarily about changing out of them. But the snow boots she’d bought last November – not having any idea she’d be in this predicament – were hardly business appropriate. The way she saw it, there were some matters of style that simply needed to take precedence over practicality, and right at the top had to be the rule that said one did not wear black dress pants and pink Uggs to a meeting with the FBI. Not anyone who didn’t want to look like a jackass, anyway.

Jordan took a seat at the conference table. She watched the blizzard that raged outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, dreading the snow she’d have to shovel when she got home. Perhaps she should look into getting one of those power snowblowers, she mused. Or a man. Either could be quite handy in inclement weather. Then again, snowblowers took up a lot of garage space, and she generally liked to keep at least a three-foot buffer around the Maserati. Not to mention, most of the men she met presumably had even less interest than she did in shoveling snow – they likely would hire someone else to do that kind of thing. The downside to dating Italian-loafer types, she supposed.

Maybe she needed to find more of a guy’s guy. One of those men who could start a fire with two sticks, could change a flat tire with one hand tied behind his back, and wasn’t afraid that a snow shovel would scuff his cashmerelined leather Burberry gloves.

The door flew open and in walked Nick McCall.

Someone, however, who at least knew what a razor was.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, Ms. Rhodes,” he said.

As Huxley followed Nick into the conference room, Jordan noticed that both men had shed their coats. She also saw that they were armed, catching glimpses of the shoulder harnesses and guns they wore underneath their suit jackets.

“What happened to your file?” she asked.

“Would you believe it? We couldn’t find the darn thing,” Nick said. “Guess we’ll just have to march on without it.” He gave Huxley a nod.

“Everything we’re about to tell you is extremely confidential, Ms. Rhodes,” Huxley began. “You can tell no one about the purpose of this meeting.”

Easy enough for her to do, since she didn’t understand the purpose of the meeting. “All right.”

“You already know that this pertains to Xander Eckhart. For some time now, we’ve had him under investigation. We believe he’s running drug money through his nightclubs and restaurants for an organized crime syndicate led by Roberto Martino. You may have heard about the recent indictments of Martino and the others in his organization.” Huxley gave Jordan a moment to process all this.

“You seem surprised,” Nick said.

She shot him a look. “Of course I’m surprised. I had no idea Xander was mixed up in anything like this. You’re sure of this?”

Huxley nodded. “Yes. We’ve been watching Eckhart. We’ve seen him on several occasions with a man we know to be one of Martino’s associates. They meet in Eckhart’s office, which is located underneath the main level of his restaurant, Bordeaux.”

“The one down the hall from his wine cellar, you mean,” Jordan said.

Nick sat forward in his chair, interested in this. “You’ve been inside Eckhart’s office?”

“Yes. Last year at his Valentine’s Day party, he gave me a tour of the entire space at Bordeaux.”

“How well do you remember the interior of the office?” Huxley asked. “Would you be able to describe it, tell us the placement of the furniture, that kind of thing?”

“I can certainly try,” Jordan said. “Is that what this is about? You want me to describe Xander’s office to you?” It seemed too insignificant for all the secret-agent rigmarole.

Nick shook his head. “Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. What we want is for you to help us get inside Eckhart’s office. This Saturday night.”

It took her a moment. “You mean during the party?”

Nick folded his arms on the table. “How would you feel about bringing along an undercover agent as your date, Ms. Rhodes?”

Jordan leaned in to meet him halfway. “I think that depends on who the date is, Agent McCall.”

Next to Nick, Huxley pushed up his glasses. “Me.”

Jordan looked over, surprised. “Oh. Okay.”

“Try not to look so relieved,” Nick said dryly.

“Sorry. It’s just that Agent Huxley seems more …” She searched for the right word.

“Like a fancy-wine type?” Nick suggested sarcastically.

“I was about to say ‘pleasant.’ ”

“Actually, I have been doing a lot of research into wine for this assignment,” Huxley interjected. “From what I’ve read, Eckhart has quite an impressive collection.” He shot Nick a glance and cleared his throat. “Not that I’ll be drinking that evening, of course.”

From Huxley’s nervous look, Jordan guessed that Nick held some sort of position of authority over the younger agent. Another of the FBI’s questionable judgment calls. “So I bring you as my date, and then what happens?” she asked Huxley.

“I’ll break away from the party at some point and plant small recording devices in Eckhart’s office.”

They made it sound so easy. Then again, to them, maybe it was. “Tell me how my brother fits into this.”

Nick took the lead here. “The U.S. attorney has agreed to a reduction of your brother’s sentence to time served. If you cooperate with us, her office will file the motion on Monday. While waiting for the court to rule, we can arrange to have your brother transferred to home detention.”

Jordan studied both agents carefully. “What’s the catch? There has to be one, if you’re willing to give up Kyle. Several months ago, the U.S. attorney had a blast making a public spectacle of the case. His way of being tough on crime, I suppose.”

“The former U.S. attorney made a public spectacle of your brother’s case,” Nick corrected her. “The new one has a different agenda.”

“You need to be aware that with any undercover operation, there is some risk of danger,” Huxley added. “We think we can minimize the risk, but nevertheless, you should take that into consideration.”

“How long do I have to make my decision?” Jordan asked.

“I think we all know you’ve already made your decision, Ms. Rhodes,” Nick said.