Fatal Scandal: Book Eight of the Fatal Series Read Online Free PDF Page A

caressed his face, dragging her index finger over his lower lip that was still damp from their kisses. “Same time and place next year?”
    “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Chapter Three
    They arrived home to Shelby asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Avery’s arms. The agent was awake, watching the New Year’s festivities in Times Square on TV. Nick hated having that guy in his house, but Hill’s attentions were now focused on Shelby rather than Sam. At least he hoped so.
    Every so often he caught him looking at Sam with something way outside the bounds of friendship, and at those times, Nick wondered if he’d really moved on or if he was merely using their wonderful personal assistant to stay close to Sam. If Nick ever discovered that to be true, he’d have the agent transferred to an outpost in Siberia so fast his head would spin.
    He’d like to think he was above using his position for his own agenda, but in the case of the FBI agent who had a “thing” for his wife, he wouldn’t hesitate to have him removed from her orbit if it came to that. So he kept a close eye on the guy who seemed to be around their house more and more often lately. With all the women in the District he could be dating, why their personal assistant?
    Not that Shelby wasn’t fabulous—she was. Any guy would be lucky to date her. But Nick found the situation curious at best, fishy at worse. So while Sam talked to Hill, Nick went through the motions of hanging their coats in the front hall closet. He hoped Hill would get the hint and go home so Nick could take his wife to bed.
    What if he said that? “Hill, could you please leave? I need to make mad, passionate love to my wife, and you’re screwing things up just by being here.” Nick smiled to himself as he imagined the look of utter scorn he’d receive from Sam if he said it, but damn, he wanted to. Rather than get himself in trouble when he was planning to get very lucky, he went into the kitchen to fix himself a nightcap from the bottle of bourbon Graham O’Connor had given him on the one-year anniversary of John’s death.
    Rather than wallow in their ongoing grief, they’d chosen to toast their son and best friend with drinks and cigars that had left Nick feeling rather sick at the end of the evening. But they’d gotten Graham and his wife, Laine, through the day, and that was all that mattered. One year. How was it possible that John had already been gone a year? He’d never believe the changes to all their lives since then, most particularly Nick, who’d gone from John’s chief of staff to the Senate to vice president of the United States in one short dizzying year. He’d also gone from single to married to fatherhood in the same year.
    The best part, by far, had been reconnecting with Sam in the wake of John’s murder. That something so amazing and life-changing could’ve come from the worst day of his life was nothing short of a miracle. She was a miracle. His miracle.
    She came into the kitchen looking gorgeous in the clingy, sexy black dress, her cheeks still red from the cold, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Hiding out?”
    “Nothing of the sort.” He held up his glass. “Having a nightcap. Join me?”
    “I’ll have what you’re having.”
    “Feeling risky tonight, are you?” Bourbon wasn’t usually her drink of choice, but he poured her a couple of fingers nonetheless. “Is he gone?”
    “They both are, so you can come out of hiding. I’m proud of you, though, for leaving me alone with him.” She patted his face indulgently. “My little boy might be growing up.”
    Amused, he took a sip of his drink. “Does thinking about how quickly I could have him transferred to Siberia count as growing up?”
    “Nick...”
    “What? I didn’t say I was doing it. I simply said I’d
thought
about it.”
    She shook her head and grinned at him. “Want to know what I was thinking about?”
    “Always.”
    “You’ll have to come upstairs to