“A baby?” Keegan roared, bursting through Marty’s office door. Large and fit, his muscled build barreled to a stop in front of the women. “Mara’s having a baby?” he bellowed, which was essentially the Keegan way. If no one answered you, you just yelled louder.
Marty jumped up just as Mara’s face flushed red. She shrunk down into the cushiony softness of the couch while she watched Marty set about “handling” her brother. Marty was a pro at soothing Keegan’s rougher edges. They offset each other in every way—a balance no one watching the two of them together could deny.
“Is that any way to greet your wife?” Marty purred up at Keegan, cupping his lean jaw and running her fingers through his graying temple.
“Remiss me. Lay one on me, Mrs. Flaherty. Hollis is just outside that door, waiting for me to take her home so we can have princess tea. You know, boas, tiaras, tea in those cups the size of my thumb? So make it count,” he ordered on an indulgent chuckle.
Keegan did all sorts of girl-things with Hollis. He let her paint his nails, curl his hair, put makeup on him . . . When it came to Marty and Hollis, Keegan was just a pile of gooey mush. Her brother’s family was everything Mara had ever wanted. He was a different man since meeting Marty five years ago.
Marty dutifully lifted her lips for a kiss, her tinkle of laughter sweet and light.
“Now, who’s having a baby, ladies?” Keegan said against her lips, leaving one eye open to scan Mara’s form on the couch with a critical gaze.
Mara’s heart began that fluttering beat again. She was going to have to lie. Keegan would sense something was wrong with her, and then he’d interrogate it out of her. Then he’d know, and he’d have no choice as alpha but to take action.
Panic forced her to repeat the mantra, less is more, Mara. Shut up. Keep it simple.
Marty pulled back, hooking her arms around his waist, giving Keegan a frown, but forcing him and his penetrating gaze to focus on her, taking the heat off Mara. “No one’s having a baby, silly. So quit interrupting conversations you’re not invited to join. Mara and I are dishing. Girl-talk. Which means none of your business.”
Keegan’s hard jaw clenched tight. He narrowed his eyes, skeptical. “I feel like there’s something going on I should know about. Yet I’m afraid to ask for fear it’s nothing, and you’ll cancel our wrestling match date to punish me for accusing you unjustly.”
“You guys go to wrestling matches?” Mara managed to squeak from the couch, forcing her guilty panic to calm.
Marty swatted at Keegan’s shoulder, her eyes full of the kind of affection Mara had grown so fond of witnessing. “No. That’s what we tell Hollis we’re doing. Let me just say this. Four-year-olds are the most inquisitive, nosy beasts on the planet. She’s at the age where all she does is ask a question about everything. Especially when Mommy and Daddy make too much noise while we’re, you know, wrestling.” Marty winked, her long lashes sweeping her cheek.
Mara hopped off the couch, wrinkling her nose in teasing protest. “Okay. No explanations required. In fact, please don’t explain. It’s almost like hearing my parents talk about doing it,” she joked.
Marty laughed, squeezing Keegan’s hand before shooing him toward the door. “Mom’s do it, too,” she taunted. Turning to Keegan, she pointed toward the outer office. “Go. We have girl stuff right now. But tonight? After we put said nosy beast to bed? You. Me. A T-bone for two?”
Keegan planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “Ludmilla the Russian Spy, willing to do whatever it takes to get the super secret government formula from Heinrich, the suave, yet debonair millionaire? Even interrogate him, you know, wrestling match–style,” he said over Marty’s shoulder for Mara’s benefit, laughing as he sauntered out the door.
Mara jammed her hands into her oversized lab coat, tugging at her lifeless turtleneck. “Well, that explains why I can’t get a date. I need to change my name to Ludmilla and practice my Russian accent.”
Marty pulled her into a hug, squeezing her close just as her cell phone rang. She dug it out of the back pocket of her skinny jeans and frowned before returning her eyes to Mara. “I’ve got to take this. But this conversation isn’t over. I want to help you, honey. Not just Harry. Okay?”
“You got it. I have to get back to work anyway. See you later, Ludmilla.” She laughed her way to the elevators, warmed that Marty and Keegan were truly so happy. She’d do anything to protect that—even if it meant lying to Keegan about Marty’s involvement in the Harry incident.