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questions.
    He had a sinking suspicion that she would. The woman was a lot sharper than he’d given her credit for.
    “I’m from Vermont,” he replied before taking a sip of his drink. The alcohol heated his gut and fueled his confidence. “But my family moved around a lot when I was a kid. I was a military brat.” He paused. “What about you?”
    Rebecca brought her glass to her lips and downed half her whiskey, then proceeded to chat about herself for a few minutes. She told him a few stories about growing up in Atlanta, explained how she’d wanted to go into journalism ever since she was a little girl, and then she promptly steered the conversation back to him, much to his discomfort.
    If it were any other woman, he would’ve felt better about his responses, confident that she was buying his bogus backstory, but this was Rebecca Parker. Each time he answered a question, those green eyes narrowed slightly, as if she were analyzing every single word that left his mouth.
    “What about you?” he asked after he’d told her he’d studied journalism at Columbia. “Where did you go to school?”
    “Northwestern.” She lobbed another query his way. “How did you like living in New York?”
    Nick stifled a groan. The back and forth went on in the same fashion for the next twenty minutes. It was like a game of ping-pong. Question, answer. Question, answer.
    By the time they’d finished a second round of drinks, it became glaringly obvious that Rebecca had an agenda.
    She’s fishing.
    Crap. She was absolutely, indisputably fishing.
    Nick’s shoulders stiffened, his guard shooting up as he studied Rebecca’s knowing expression.
    “Everything okay, Nick?” she drawled.
    His hackles rose. The little minx knew he’d figured her out.
    “Everything’s great,” he responded.
    He polished off the rest of his drink, but didn’t signal the waiter for another. Nope, because it had become imperative that he keep a clear head.
    So much for getting laid tonight.
    What started out as a promising evening had turned into an aggravating battle of wits. Did Rebecca know who he was? Was she somehow connected to the people who’d killed his unit, the people trying to kill him? Or did she think he was simply a rival journalist and was trying to unnerve him for some reason?
    “Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh right, finding material to report on,” she said casually. “You know where to find the best scoops? D.C. Seriously, all you’ve gotta do is walk down the street and you’ll stumble across no less than ten scandals.” She met his eyes. “Have you ever been to D.C.?”
    “Of course. I wouldn’t be a good freelancer if I didn’t pay frequent visits to our nation’s capital.” He kept his voice light.
    She cocked her head. “What do you think of our current administration? A little too military-focused, wouldn’t you agree?”
    He shrugged. “Defense is important.”
    “Of course it is. But should we really spend so much money on it?”
    According to his father, hell to the yes. In fact, Nick’s dad was partially responsible for the president’s defense-focused platform.
    But he kept that tidbit to himself.
    “Where do you think the funds should go?” he countered, yet again pitching the proverbial ping-pong ball her way.
    “Education, health care, social reform.” Her tone was absent, and frustration creased her forehead, as if she couldn’t decide the best way to regain ground.
    He suppressed a chuckle. “Everything okay, Rebecca?” he mimicked.
    Annoyance ignited those big green eyes of hers, but it faded fast. As the corners of her mouth lifted in resignation, she leaned forward and set her glass on the table, then straightened her shoulders and met his gaze head-on.
    “All right, let’s cut the crap,” she announced. “I know exactly who you are, so save your lies for a woman who’s stupid enough to believe them. All I want to know is, why did you lie about your name and what on earth