"I'm not afraid of questions."

  "You just don't like to answer them," she said dryly.

  "Well, I don't think we're talking top-secret level questions, are we?"

  "They'll be very invasive, but they won't be about you; they'll be about why you're with me. Whether we're dating. If we're in love. If you're my boyfriend. If they can start putting you in the family pictures."

  "Wow, that's a lot."

  "Like I said, you can change your mind."

  "So, why don't you have a boyfriend?" he asked curiously. "Or do you? I didn't see any evidence of a guy at your apartment, but maybe you spend time at his place."

  "I'm not in a relationship now. And I haven't been for almost two years, which has actually been a good thing."

  "Two years, huh? Isn't that about the time you left the NYPD? A lot of changes in your life at the same time."

  "You're very perceptive. My last boyfriend was a cop. We were together for over a year, talking about moving in together, but he didn't like any of the decisions I made during that time. He wanted me to look the other way, get a transfer, just focus on myself and on him, because whatever I did could damage him, too."

  "Sounds like a great guy. Someone you could really count on," he said dryly.

  "He definitely revealed his true colors. I understood I was making a choice for both of us. But I couldn't just ignore what I'd seen. I was supposed to be on the side of the law. We all were. That was our job. He told me if I was going to take my partner down, then we were done."

  "It was your integrity or him."

  "Yes," she said. "He left that night, told his buddies the next day that we were over, that I wasn't someone he could be with. That protected him a little when I went to Internal Affairs. They believed he'd tried everything he could to talk me out of it and to convince me I was wrong. He kept his friends and his job. It all worked out for him."

  "For both of you," Max corrected. "You got a better job, and he didn't deserve you."

  "He didn't. And I don't regret my decision. I do regret not having seen who he really was before that. It makes me cautious now. I haven't been in a hurry to get back into the dating world. It feels so fake most of the time. And I have a job that I can't really talk about, which complicates matters. I also work long hours, and men don't always understand that."

  "Women, either," he commented.

  She gave him a quick look. "Does that mean you're also single?"

  "Yes. And in no hurry to change that."

  "Because…"

  "Because I have a job and long hours that would complicate a relationship," he said, echoing her words. "Maybe someday, but not now."

  "That's how I feel, too," she said, a little voice inside her head suggesting that she might make an exception for the right man, maybe even the man sitting next to her. But she immediately pushed that thought out of her head. "So, back to the party… My mom and her sister-in-law, Beth, Uncle Danny's wife, will be the worst. They'll want to know all about you, so let me know what you want me to tell them. I can say we're just colleagues, let them assume you're FBI. That should shut them down. Then they'll be off you and trying to set me up with every single guy in the bar."

  "Well, since you don't want to get set up, and I don't want to be your coworker, why don't we say we're dating?"

  Her hands tightened on the wheel so hard she had to pull back from a speedy swerve. "What? Why would we do that?"

  "To save you from having to talk to someone's single friend. And to stop them from asking me about work."

  "They'll still ask you about that. They'll want to make sure you're a good catch."

  "We'll tell them part of the truth. I work for Dominic Ashford's company, in his security department; keep it vague. A good cover has a few details, but not too many."

  "I don't know. I'm not sure anyone would believe we're together, because we're not together."

  "We have chemistry. You know that as well as I do," he said pointedly. "And I can be a convincing boyfriend. At least for a few hours. Give me a chance."

  She stopped at a light, not trusting the playful smile on his face. "This seems like a terrible idea."

  "It will be more fun this way."

  "I think you're just missing being a spy."

  "Maybe. But I'm doing this for you. Your family will love me, and they'll get off your back for a while."

  "It would be nice to go to a party and not be the perpetually single girl. Okay, let's do it. But nothing too over the top. We're just seeing each other. It's casual."

  "Casual," Max repeated. "Got it. No grand declarations of love."

  "Absolutely not."

  "No getting down on one knee."

  "Max!" she said with alarm.

  He laughed. "Just teasing."

  She shook her head. "You are enjoying this idea way too much."

  "I'm just getting started. This will be fun."

  "I shouldn't be having fun. I'm in the middle of a case."

  "That's why you need a break, a few hours to not think about it. I find the puzzle pieces fit better when I stop trying to shove them together in a desperate attempt to go faster."

  "Speed could save lives. It's hard for me to let go when I know what's at stake, how a minute can make a difference."

  "It can make a difference, but you're not Superwoman. You can only go as fast as you can go. And you can only do so much on your own. You have a team behind you, who are also working hard. And I have people who are trying to get me information, too. For the next few hours, let's take a break, have a drink, maybe some food, talk to your family, convince them that your future is bright, and when it's over, we'll go back to work."

  That sounded really nice. She pulled into the public parking lot across the street from Hannigan's Pub and shut off the engine. "Are you ready? Because I'm not sure I am."

  "Absolutely. Come on, fake girlfriend. Let's convince your family you're not going to die alone."

  "I hate you a little right now."

  "No, you don't."

  And the terrible thing was, he was right. It wasn't going to be that difficult to pretend she was interested in him. It would be much harder to pretend she wasn't.

  As they crossed the street, Max grabbed Kara's hand.

  "We don't have to start yet," she protested.

  "You never know who's watching," he replied as he wrapped his fingers around hers, enjoying the simple contact more than he probably should.

  He'd never been a hand-holder. It wasn't something he thought about, and when his girlfriends had wanted to take his hand, he'd always felt a little awkward. But tonight, he wanted to hold Kara's hand, probably because she didn't want him to. She prized her independence. She fought for her own identity, and he admired that. He also wanted to see a more relaxed version of her, one who wasn't racing against time, desperate to find a bomber, obsessed with work. And if he were being honest, he wanted to see that version of himself, too, a version he'd forgotten about over the last decade.

  "Here we go," Kara said, taking a deep breath as he opened the door to the bar and they stepped inside.

  Hannigan's Pub was exactly what Max had expected—dark wood, brass fixtures, Guinness signs, and walls covered with firefighter memorabilia and faded photographs. The place smelled like beer and fried food, and the air was loud with conversation and laughter. Jimmy Buffett played from the jukebox in the corner, and a huge three-tiered sheet cake sat on the bar. There was energy and friendship and love in the room, and when Kara's face lit up when she spotted her uncle across the room, he felt something he couldn't quite name—envy, maybe. A longing to be a part of something like this, but it wasn't real, and he shouldn't forget that.

  "Kara," the tall, broad-shouldered man said as he broke into a huge grin and walked through the crowd to give her a big hug.

  As she let go of his hand, he felt very much like an outsider, but he couldn't afford to show that emotion on his face.

  "Happy birthday, Uncle Danny," she said as they broke apart.

  "Wasn't sure you were going to make it."

  "I couldn't miss it."

  Danny's gaze shifted, assessing him with the practiced eye of someone who'd spent decades sizing up people in dangerous situations. "And who's this?"

  "Max Malone. Danny Reid," Kara introduced.

  He extended his hand. "Happy birthday. Thanks for letting me crash the party."

  Danny's handshake was firm, measuring. "A friend of Kara's is always welcome. How do you two know each other?"

  Before Max could answer, a woman in her late fifties with Kara's dark hair and eyes appeared at Danny's elbow, her gaze moving between them with undisguised curiosity.

  "Kara, you made it," the woman said.

  "Hi, Mom." Kara gave her mother a big hug.

  Apparently, this was a hugging family.

  "Who's this?" her mother asked as she let her daughter go.

  "Max Malone. My mother, Maggie Reid," Kara said. "And my aunt, Beth Reid," she added as another woman edged Danny out of the group.

  Beth was a curvy blonde with bright blue eyes. "Hello. It's nice you brought someone, Kara."

  "A nice change," her mother added, still giving him a speculative look. "Please tell me you're not just one of her coworkers who is going to drag her away in five minutes to finish some job."

  "Mom," Kara protested.

  "I'm not her coworker," he said. "And I can't imagine leaving a party as fun as this after only five minutes."

  "Good," Maggie said with approval. "I like him, Kara."

  Kara rolled her eyes. "Don't get carried away, Mom. We're just getting to know each other."

  "Well, I know you, Kara, and you wouldn't have brought him here if he wasn't a little special," her mother said.

  "Oh, he's special, all right," Kara said as he put his arm around her shoulders.

  He gave her mother and aunt a smile. "Actually, Kara is the one who's extraordinary," he said. "I feel like I won the lottery."

  "You are so sweet," Maggie said. "And you're right, my daughter is extraordinary. I'm glad she finally met someone who can see that."

  "Okay, that's enough," Kara said. "I'm going to get us some drinks. Anyone else need anything?"

  "No," Maggie said, waving Kara away as she urged him to take a seat at a nearby booth.

  As Kara fought her way through friends and family to get to the bar, he was peppered with questions by Maggie, Beth, and a younger woman named Ria, who was apparently Beth's daughter and was planning a wedding in May. Her first concern seemed to be whether Kara would bring him to the wedding, since she had said she was coming alone. Her mother instantly cut her off, saying they could always make room for him, which sparked a bit of a tense discussion between the two before Ria left to find her fiancé.

  Wanting to change the topic, he asked Maggie about her teaching job, and she blossomed with his questions; her passion for her career and her students more than clear. She also mentioned that Beth did music therapy with her students, which led Beth into a conversation about how music could help kids get over trauma.

  Kara eventually made it to the table with two beers, and he gave her a smile as she handed him a frosty mug and sat down next to him. Putting his arm around her shoulders, he said, "I missed you."

  She flushed a little. "Sorry, I kept getting stopped to chat."

  Beth slipped out of the booth. "I need to say hello to someone. I'll speak to you later."

  She'd no sooner left when Kara's cousin Sean slipped in next to Maggie. And as he sipped his beer and met various family members over the next thirty minutes, he felt more and more comfortable. While a few people asked him about his work, he was able to stall any deep dives into his business by just making everything sound a little boring.

  He couldn't help noticing that everyone was eager to talk to Kara, too. Apparently, she hadn't been spending much time with family since she'd joined the FBI, and everyone was eager to catch up. He enjoyed seeing her relaxed and loved. She seemed softer than she had before and very, very real—in a way that made his chest tight. She belonged here, in this loud, warm, chaotic place where everyone knew her favorite food and teased her about her terrible karaoke skills and asked about her job with genuine pride and concern. She had roots so deep they were unshakeable. He had never had roots like that, not when he was a kid, and not when he was an adult.

  The time passed quickly with food dropped off at their booth: burgers, fries, chicken fingers, salads, an assortment of other side dishes, as well as beer and wine, and they ate their way through many conversations.

  But eventually, they found themselves alone in the booth, and that's when Kara gave him an apologetic look. "I told you it would be a lot."

  "I'm not complaining. Your family is great. You're lucky."

  "I know I am. Sometimes I forget." She paused as the crowd hushed and her Uncle Danny stepped up to thank everyone for coming.

  As Danny talked about his family and friends, the support he'd always had in his life, calling out his wife and kids, he got a little emotional. Beth put her arm around his waist as he said, "I have to say that every birthday is bittersweet without my brother."

  At his words, he felt Kara tense and impulsively put his arm around her shoulders again. She didn't seem to notice as her jaw tightened, and her gaze was fixed on her uncle.

  "Jimmy was one of a kind. My older brother was my best friend. He's the reason I became a firefighter. He's the reason I keep going even when it's hard. He sacrificed his life, and he's an inspiration every day. But it's not just his bravery that I remember, it's how funny he was, how adventurous he could be, how he was the first one to say yes to any idea, and how he loved his family, no matter how crazy they could be." His voice choked for a moment, and Max saw a lot of people wiping their eyes. "To Jimmy," Danny said, raising his glass.

  "To Jimmy," everyone echoed, except for Kara. She'd raised her glass, but the words seemed to be stuck in her throat.

  He gave her shoulders a squeeze.

  She turned to him with moist eyes. "He says that every year, and it always gets to me."

  "Understandable."

  "I barely remember my dad, you know. I was six when he died. It feels like I know him more through other people's stories than through my memories. That seems wrong."

  "It seems right, too."

  She gave him a watery smile. "I really hate being emotional."

  "Afraid it makes you look weak?"

  "Yes," she said honestly. "In my line of work, female tears are not an asset."

  "Well, you're not working now, and I'm not judging you."

  She tipped her head. "You're a nice guy for a spook."

  "Not a spook anymore."

  "We should get going. Get back to work."

  "Whenever you're ready."

  Before she could say she was ready, her uncle slid into the booth across from them.

  "Haven't had much of a chance to talk to you," he said. "Are you having fun?"

  "Yes," Kara said. "And thanks for saying that about my dad."

  "I meant every word." Danny paused. "This isn't party conversation, but since we're alone for a minute. I've been thinking about you since the explosion in Midtown yesterday. Same bomber?" he asked.

  "I think so," she said. "But we're still digging into it all. Do you know anything about it?"

  "The building is owned by Wexler Properties. They have had a couple of fires in the last ten years and have gotten a reputation for cutting corners during construction."

  "Were those fires explosions?" she asked.

  "Not deliberately set as far as I know, but you should look into the company. The Meridien Tower fire had numerous casualties."

  "Meridien Tower," she murmured. "I remember that fire. It was a while ago."

  "Seven or eight years, I think," Danny agreed. "I'd look into Wexler."

  "I've already reached out to their executive team. They're on their way back from a meeting in Japan, so hopefully I'll be able to speak to them soon."

  "I'm not sure I'm giving you much to go on. A bomb is different than a construction defect, but maybe someone had it in for them."

  "Maybe. But Wexler has nothing to do with the café, so it's hard to say."

  "You'll figure it out. You're a smart woman," Danny said. "I have confidence."

  "Thanks."

  As a roar came from a crowd near a dart game, he said, "I better go show the kids how it's done."

  She smiled. "Keep them humble."

  "Always," he said with a laugh.

  As her uncle left, she turned to him. "We should go."

  The determined look in her gaze told him she was already thinking about work, and that was fine, because he was, too.

  "Let's do an Irish goodbye," Kara said as she led him through the bar. "It's faster."

  "What's an Irish goodbye?"

  "You just slip away. Otherwise, it will take us an hour to leave."

  "Won't your family care?"

  "They'll still be thinking how happy they are I had a date," she said dryly. As they left the bar and hit the chilly night air, she added, "You did well, by the way. Very convincing."

  "I told you I would be," he said as they got into her car. "Although I'm disappointed that I didn't get to throw in a kiss before we left."

  She rolled her eyes. "That would have been even more over the top. Seriously, you were way too complimentary and adoring. No one acts like that."

  "You mean your last boyfriend didn't act like that?"

  "None of them have."

  "That's kind of sad," he said as he fastened his seatbelt. "Your mother is right; you deserve better."

  "I don't think anyone acts that loving and protective unless they're putting on a front, as you were. Have you ever treated anyone else like that when you met their family?"

  "I haven't met many families," he said, seeing an interested gleam flit through her eyes. "I usually get out before that happens."

  "Then why were you so confident you could charm mine?"

  "Because I am good at being charming, at knowing what people want to see and to hear. Your mom and your family want you to be happy, so I wanted them to know that was my goal, too."

  "But it was an act."