“You said boat.” She’d expected a cruiser and Sam had brought her to a yacht. It was a large, well-appointed vessel with a crew of five standing by ready to welcome them aboard. “Is this yours?” she whispered as they followed the steward into a plush salon with a dinner table set for two.

  “Rush owns it,” Sam replied. “He uses it primarily to wow potential clients and shares it with the executive staff.”

  “Wow is right.”

  Another uniformed man asked for their drink preferences. Sam ordered a beer and she requested water, knowing another drink on an empty stomach would only make it harder to keep her hands to herself. The vessel glided away from the dock and they settled into soft chairs on the stern deck. The water churning in their wake as the vessel quietly moved into the bay mesmerized her. “Why didn’t he and Lucy come along tonight?”

  Sam studied the bottle of beer in his hand for a long moment. “A few reasons.”

  She waited, sensing his shift to practical issues. Whatever intimacy she’d imagined was blowing away in the sea air.

  “After everything that happened today,” he continued, “we adjusted the arrangements tonight so you and I could speak privately with no worry about interruptions.”

  “Does ‘everything’ include you being mugged?”

  “Everything includes an attempted mugging,” he clarified with a smile.

  She noticed the smile didn’t put a spark in his brown eyes. “You’re not okay.”

  “I am.” He shifted in the chair. “I got the man’s picture and his knife.” He sipped the beer. “The guy got nothing from me.”

  Madison wasn’t so sure about that. Something serious weighed on his mind, had him more distracted than usual. “Will you tell me the whole story?”

  “Maybe later.” He sat back in the chair and propped an ankle on his opposite knee. “First of all, the museum and the white jade cup are now secure from online threats through the run of the exhibit. Rush just finished installing the new program as a courtesy trial. If they want to keep it when the exhibit returns to China, they can buy it.”

  “That was more than generous,” she said. He had her almost convinced he was simply a carefree, wealthy entrepreneur out for a private dinner cruise. She spotted the tension in his clean-shaven jaw and the uncharacteristic stillness of his hands.

  “You didn’t want us to give them the upgrade for free?” He shot her a quizzical look.

  “Why would I want that?”

  “I just thought as a friend or whatever we are here, you might expect us to throw in a freebie.”

  “Sam, that’s ridiculous.” Too edgy and overwhelmed from the events of the previous twenty-four hours, she couldn’t hide her offense. “Stopping the hacker pro bono was all the favor I needed. You’re brilliant and should be paid well for your expertise.” On a roll now, she ignored the curious lift of his dark eyebrows. “I’m well aware how much you and Rush give back to the community. You have every right to call me on the marriage lie and yet here we are, acting it out.”

  “Right down to our first fight, apparently,” he said.

  The charming grin made her knees weak. “You know what I mean.”

  He nodded, his gaze full of an earnest sincerity. “I’m happy to help you, Madison. We’ve been friends a long time.”

  She didn’t trust herself to reply.

  “I’ve been through your computer.” He stayed her protest with a raised palm. “Off network. No one will ever know it was even turned on. I needed to study and evaluate your typical habits on that computer.”

  Work computer, she reminded herself. Her personal documents and such were in a password-locked file on her tablet at home. Great. Spalding probably had that now. Not that there was anything more incriminating than her banking and charity interests. Unless she counted every saved email she’d ever received from Sam Bellemere along with an electronic scrapbook of headlines he’d made through the years. If anyone found that, her fake husband might have cause for a restraining order against her.

  “Madison, you’re not listening. I know the details can be tedious—”

  “It’s not the details,” she said quickly. “You’ve always made the details interesting for me.” Through necessity, she’d developed the ability to listen to and assess multiple topics simultaneously. “The computer behavior assessment algorithms to prevent hacking and breaches are cutting edge.”

  “Yes, they are.”

  She sat forward, eager to hear more about what he was developing and what he’d do with it. “Will Gray Box market the new software publicly?”

  He frowned at her. “You were listening.”

  She smiled and sipped her water.

  “We’re a long way from having a reliable program ready to market.” He tipped his head back as they passed under the Golden Gate Bridge. “What’s more important and relevant is the string of recent email messages I found buried in your official inbox.”

  She shivered and it had nothing to do with the chilly breeze on the bay. Sam set aside his beer and removed his suit jacket, sliding it over her shoulders. Being surrounded by the fabric warm from his body and the scent of his cologne was almost better than dancing with him at the gala. He lingered there in front of her fussing with the jacket panels as if he didn’t want to go back to his own seat.

  If she leaned forward just a few inches, she could kiss those firm lips and learn the taste of him at last. He was right there, within easy reach and she lost her nerve, too afraid of scaring him off. Far more frightened that kissing him would snap that last thread of hope that she might be content with another man.

  “I clean out my inbox every day,” she said, though the words came out as if she’d been chewing sandpaper. “I have folders and a system and—”

  “I know.” He pushed back from her. Standing, he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Behavior, remember?”

  “Then where and how did I miss these emails you found?”

  “It’s not easy to explain. The dates and times show up over the past three or four months, but they didn’t actually hit your inbox until after the gala. More specifically, just after the first disturbance call from your neighbors.”

  The inexplicable and sudden rash of trouble bumped around in her head until it fell into place. “You believe I’m being set up.”

  “Yes,” he replied, his gaze searching the night beyond their boat. “I just can’t pin down why.”

  Her mind raced back through recent months and the attempts on the State Department firewall. “What did the emails suggest?”

  He sighed. “The implication is an ongoing conversation that you’re interested in sharing confidential information about Vietnam’s interests with China for the right price.”

  “I would never.” She swore. “That’s outrageous.”

  “I know.”

  “No wonder Spalding is after me. My boss said the FBI got a tip that I’ve already taken payoffs. It must be this hacker, or a group, trying to embarrass the State Department.”

  “I agree. Having more than one person or group come after you right now is too much of a coincidence. Unfortunately, it will take me some time to identify him.” He removed his glasses and hooked them at the open collar of his shirt. “I’ve worked on this all day, Madison. Depending on how things come to light, the problems at the reception could be read as retaliation for your potential betrayal. That’s a spitball theory, of course,” he said quickly. “There are too many unknowns right now. Even looking at the pieces separately, it’s clear to me the hacker has latched on to you. He or she took offense at your suddenly publicized marriage and me as your high-profile husband.”

  She understood why she might be a target as a liaison, but why did the appearance of a husband make any difference? She’d been behaving as married for a long time. “Should we publicize a separation or divorce instead?”

  “Hell, no.”

  His swift reply had her looking up at him in shock. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I can take care of myself.” He picked up his beer and drained it. “You—we—have options. FBI involvement or not, Rush and I can get you out of the country. Tonight, if you like.”

  She glanced around the harbor as understanding of their location struck home. “You’re suggesting we sail to Canada?”

  “It’s closer than Mexico,” he quipped. “I’m just laying out your options,” he added.

  “Lay out another one. I’m not running from some punk hiding behind a wall of technology.”

  “Have you forgotten I used to be that punk?” he asked with a rough bark of laughter.

  “Oh, you were not.” She stood up, swaying a little with the movement of the boat as she walked over to the rail. She gripped it hard, willing herself to find a graceful way out of this twisted mess. “Lay out another option,” she repeated over her shoulder.

  “All right.” He came up beside her and covered one of her chilled hands with his. “What if we enjoy what is sure to be an outstanding dinner and then head back to my place and handle whatever is coming together as husband and wife?”

  She studied his profile, seeing none of the tension or stress in the hard square of his jaw, only resolute determination. “Together?” She was bewildered as much by the offer as she was by the easy way he delivered it.

  “Exactly.” He faced her, giving her a heated, toe-curling smile.

  If only it would be that easy. “You stepping up publicly as my husband could very well put Gray Box at risk.”

  “I’ve factored that in.”

  His absolute fearlessness despite the unknowns made her want him more as a friend and an ally as well as on a personal level. She hadn’t known it was possible to sink deeper into her infatuation with him.

  “What did Rush say?”

  His gaze slid over her shoulder, as if he could see the office from here. “We discussed every angle of the situation and while there’s no foolproof plan right now, we know our options and basic tactics.”

  “You expect me to live with you at your condo?”

  “Yes. The building is covered by the best security team in the business,” he said, his eyes on her again. “It’s all legal too, should the FBI believe a hacker’s antics and claims over the proof we’ll eventually provide to clear you.”

  “What about your real life, Sam?”

  “You’re as real as my life has ever been outside of the office,” he replied. “Seriously, it’s the best solution for you.”

  He started to say something else but the steward stepped out, announcing dinner. Sam laced his fingers with hers as they walked into the salon. “I did speak with my mom, since she’s a society page junkie.”

  “Oh, no.” Madison groaned. “She must think I’m the worst for dragging you into my fib,” she said as Sam pulled out her chair at the table.

  “Not at all.” He took his seat across from her and waited while wine was poured. “I told her the ‘true story.’” He added air quotes to the phrase. “The way you gave it to me.”

  Appalled, Madison struggled to catch a full breath. “You didn’t.” His mother must be furious and hurt. “Sam.”

  “I admit she wasn’t happy we eloped. She was thrilled to hear I have a wife who adores me.”

  Sheer embarrassment heated her cheeks. He’d figured out her infatuation. The stereotype that tech experts had no personal observation skills was thoroughly debunked. Sam, both a famous tech innovator and notoriously shy, a soft-spoken rejecter of typical social conventions, had recognized her desperate crush on him.

  She knew it was all her fault. Yes, she could see his point about the need to play the parts she’d cast for them and the definite short-term benefits. What worried her more was the long-term fallout for her, him and the people who cared about them.

  To her immense relief, any need for a response was delayed by the arrival of salads and a basket of aromatic herb bread, brushed with a gloss of melted butter. It gave her time to get a grip on her runaway thoughts so she could match his logical approach to this monstrously uncomfortable box she’d built.

  Chapter Eight

  “I explained our reasons,” Sam continued, wondering about Madison’s prolonged silence. Her cheeks were turning red, her lips caught tight between her teeth and she stared deliberately at her salad plate.

  “You don’t have to really adore me,” he said quickly. “Obviously we won’t be out and about much. I was selling it for Mom, that’s all,” he blathered on, fighting the rising panic. This wasn’t how he’d envisioned the conversation. “I told her we kept the wedding quiet because it was better for your career not to go public until we had to.”

  “Had to,” she echoed.

  “Yes.” He offered her a slice of bread and took one for himself. “To best protect you now, I think we’ll need to let the public in a little more.”

  “My boss said lie low,” she said. “Stay off the radar.”

  “I know.” He leaned forward, willing her to look at him and see what he was offering. She didn’t. “I promise you, Madison, we can manage this. We’ll be careful and deliberate about the what, where and when of every piece.”

  “You’ll hate that kind of invasion of your privacy.”

  He shook his head. As her husband, he wouldn’t be coping with the scrutiny alone. It had been the personal teamwork he’d longed for. “We’ll be invaded together.” His joke fell flat. There had to be a way to convince her.

  He’d spent all day thinking about it and decided this marriage offered them the best of both worlds. No longer an eligible bachelor, he could go out with his wife and enjoy the city without unflattering speculation or bizarre attempts to get his attention. Granted, when people approached him it was more often about technology than a personal interest in his life, but still. “Whatever attention we get, you can be a social asset for me. The company and I will be a legal buffer for you.”

  She met his gaze and her moss-green eyes were as cool and hard as the jade artwork in the exhibit. “You see that as an equal trade?”

  He wished she’d spit out whatever was bothering her. Either his suggestion made her angry or there was more going on that she didn’t want to share with him. “You’re not enthused about this at all.”

  “My apologies.” She raised her glass of wine. “A toast to wedded bliss.” Her smile was brittle, far more fragile than the warm expressions they’d shared out on the deck.

  He gently tapped his glass to hers and held her gaze as they sipped. “I’ve irritated you? Overstepped?”

  “No.” She closed her eyes a moment. “No,” she repeated. “That’s on me. I did the wrong thing with the guest list by dragging you into this on a personal level.” She placed her hands in her lap, her body so still, her eyes solemn. “I appreciate the remarkable patience you’ve extended to me.”

  “There’s more,” he prompted when she picked up her fork and stabbed at the mixed greens on her salad plate. “I’d rather we were honest with each other.” To that end, he should probably come clean with her about what he really wanted.

  She choked, sputtered and then waved off assistance as both Sam and the steward moved to help her. “I’m okay. Maybe you should send me out of the country,” she said morosely when the coughing spell was over.

  Sam knew he didn’t understand women, but this moodiness didn’t fit with the Madison who’d shown exceptional grace under fire six months ago, last night and again this morning. When the salad plates were removed he walked over and pulled up a chair to her side of the table.

  “Madison, I don’t believe you’re guilty of any wrongdoing.”

  “That’s not it.” She fanned her face with her hand and blinked rapidly.

  He thought he caught the glimmer of tears welling in her eyes. He was bad enough at the personal stuff and lousy at soothing crying women. “If there’s someone else in your life, I’ll talk with him. I’ll take care of the fake divorce as soon as this mess is resolved.” Rush would have a field day that he couldn’t keep a fake wife.

  “No. There’s no one else.” She sniffled through a wry chuckle. “Only you.”

  “Same goes,” he said, clutching her admission like a lifeline. Lasting marriages had started on weaker foundations. If he handled this crisis well, he might convince her to stay with him. Just because the situation was unconventional didn’t mean it couldn’t work. The more time he spent with her, the more he believed they could work.

  “Pardon me?” Her eyes went wide, the soft green shimmering with emotions he couldn’t label.

  He understood that. He’d struggled all day with the potential pitfalls and, frustrated, he shifted his focus to the more enticing potential rewards. “Why don’t we move forward with this?” He picked up her hand and kissed her knuckles, hoping she found the gesture romantic.

  “This?” Her gaze locked on the point where his lips met her skin.

  Probably laying it on too thick, he decided. Releasing her hand, he moved back to his side of the table as the main course arrived. “This,” he said when they were alone. He pointed a finger between them. “Us. Being husband and wife. We’ll play it out publicly, cautiously as your situation requires and in private we can see how we get along. I’ve drawn up a contract for your review with a plan to reassess and make adjustments in thirty days.”

  “What?” Her voice traveled up a full octave in the single syllable.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw the steward hesitate before stepping out of view. Good. He didn’t need witnesses to his humiliation. Sam sliced into the beef medallions and took a bite, savoring the flavor. He’d rather hear the litany of his inadequacies on a full stomach. Across the table Madison stared at him, still clearly mortified by his suggestion.