The Undercover Affair. Cathryn Parry

also has a court-appointed counselor who drops by to give drug tests unannounced. Patrick has never tested positive.”

      “I understand.” Yes, this explained John’s protective behavior. “Tell me, Pete, is there anything I should do in relation to Patrick?”

      “No. In general, keep your eyes and ears open, but don’t attract undue suspicion.”

      “Right.” She glanced up as the rumble of an engine sounded, then snapped to attention. From her position facing the street, she saw Andy’s van head up the hill. Raising her hand, she waved, wondering if he knew the story about John’s brother. Probably. Andy knew everybody in town, it seemed.

      He waved back. His son, AJ, sat in the front seat; their helper, Moon, followed in his pickup, the sides dirty. Both vehicles turned into the driveway next door.

      “Okay, Pete, I need to go.”

      “Has Kitty arrived?”

      “No, she’s late. I hope she’s still coming to meet me.”

      “Want me to check for you?”

      “Not yet. I’ll call Karen if there’s a problem.”

      “Keep me posted.”

      She watched Andy’s team hop out of their vehicles. They were late for work, too. Maybe they had stopped at a building supply store, or maybe they were freshly come from the Seaside Bar and Grill, perhaps even quizzing John about just what she and he had been discussing inside her car.

      Enough. Her future course was clear: no more lunches spent at John’s establishment. Not for the foreseeable future, not until the morning’s incident had passed from memory.

      “I’ll see you tomorrow morning at our meeting point,” she said to Pete. They’d agreed on the market down the beach.

      “Good luck with the congressman’s wife.”

      “Not a problem.” She hung up.

      Frowning, she kept her gaze forward, scanning the street, waiting for Kitty MacLaine’s vehicle. Lyndsay hadn’t mentioned the encounter with John to Pete because John’s concern made sense to her now. If she saw him again, she could handle him. Still, it really would be better to avoid the Seaside for a few days. Let John cool down. Let him think that he’d upset her, talking about Jason.

      Her immediate mission was clear: convince Kitty that Lyndsay was a capable interior designer. In no way should people suspect otherwise.

      I have to live here, she thought. Two weeks, while the MacLaines are on their transatlantic cruise.

      Fourteen more days and nights—mornings and lunch breaks and evenings—working in the house beside Andy’s crew. They were going to wonder why she didn’t head to the Seaside with them for lunch. She needed an excuse. Maybe Kitty could give her one—if she showed up.

      Her mobile phone trilled. Pete again. Connecting to the line, she said, “Yes, Pete.”

      “I’m down the street from you, headed up the coast to meet with an insurance company. Thought you might like to know that the congressman’s wife just zoomed past. She almost hit me—the woman is a menace. My guess is that she’ll be at the house in no time.”

      “Thank you.” She really was thankful that Pete was alert and looking out for her.

      “No problem. Remember, Lyn, keep your cover.” The phone clicked off.

      As he’d warned her, up the street roared what had to be Kitty MacLaine, driving a cherry-red Mercedes SUV. Kitty exceeded the speed limit by at least fifteen miles per hour—Lyndsay would’ve been hard-pressed not to issue her a ticket, had she been in uniform.

      Kitty parked her vehicle in front of Lyndsay’s and hopped out with a saucy wave. Lyndsay felt the smile on her lips and waved back. Given the petite woman’s attitude, she surely would’ve talked Lyndsay into a warning instead of a ticket.

      Kitty reminded her of a firecracker. Flaming red hair, a petite, straight-up-and-down boyish build and a manner of walking that fit about three quick steps into what Lyndsay usually took as one long stride.

      With a blazing smile on her face, Kitty met her at her driver’s door. Lyndsay gathered her oversize purse from the seat beside her and stepped outside. The salty air felt sharp and fresh to her nostrils.

      “Lyn Francis? Are you Lyn?” Kitty asked in a loud, clear voice. The words were fast and crisp and seemed to run on in sentences that made Lyndsay strain to keep up. “’Cuz I am so excited to get started today. I’m honored to have you here. I’ve been a huge fan of DesignSea, your firm, and I can’t believe that Paul commissioned you as a surprise for my birthday!”

      “Oh, happy birthday, Mrs. MacLaine,” Lyndsay said, feigning innocence. In Lyndsay’s presence, Karen had conducted a phone call with Kitty’s husband on Saturday. The congressman had filled them in as to what he wanted to do for his wife.

      “Call me Kitty. And I already checked you out online on the DesignSea website. What a beautiful portfolio you have.”

      “Thank you, Kitty.” Lyndsay tried not to gulp. When Commander Harris had said that Wesley had made her a plausible background story, he hadn’t been kidding.

      Lyndsay followed along as Kitty wove her way past a picket gate, down a pathway edged by beautiful beach landscaping with rambling beach roses, not yet budded, and clumps of local grasses planted artfully in between white pebbles.

      “I can’t wait to see the finished home,” Kitty said. “I’ve been staying with my sister in Maine while Paul finished up work in DC. Well, let me get out my keys.” Kitty fumbled with a jangly, oversize key ring. Picking out the appropriate key, she unlocked the front door, then squinted at the panel that housed their home-alarm system.

      All of the micro-cameras that Wesley had installed last night were well hidden. Lyndsay knew—but Kitty didn’t—that they covered every angle of the exterior of the home. In fact, Wesley might be watching them both entering the home now, for all Lyndsay knew.

      “Just a moment while I let us in. But you already know about the security...” Kitty keyed the numerical code into the panel with one finger. Lyndsay stayed respectfully back until Kitty waved her way inside.

      The foyer never failed to take Lyndsay’s breath away. It was the bank of windows straight ahead that gave the most beautiful, calming view of the beach and sky that Lyndsay had seen from any home, ever. She would love waking up to those windows in the early morning, watching the majestic white seagulls fly through the air. The cloud formations over the wavy blue-gray ocean at dawn. The expanse of soothing beach sand.

      “Sit down, let me take your coat,” Kitty urged. Lyndsay complied, and sat on the beige leather couch in the downstairs living room.

      “Your purse is so beautiful,” Kitty cooed.

      “Thank you,” Lyndsay said. It was made of the softest almond-color Italian suede, and she hadn’t been able to resist it. “It was a splurge, but I have a weakness for pretty things.” She stroked the soft suede. It was nice to feel like a woman sometimes. These past years, she hadn’t seemed to receive that pleasure enough.

      “May I?” Kitty asked.

      “Of course,” Lyndsay replied, and the congressman’s wife stroked her hand over the suede.

      She looked at Lyndsay and smiled. “I love your plans for the upstairs sitting area.”

      Lyndsay felt the flush of pleasure spread in her chest. That had actually been her idea, not Karen’s, though Karen had warned Lyndsay that the final detail approvals were to be all Kitty’s, of course.

      “I know that Paul helped by showing you ideas of my tastes,” Kitty said, “but honestly, I never would’ve thought of that style of flooring. And enlarging the closets is a wonderful idea.”

      Lyndsay’s heart seemed to slow. “Closets?”