Debra & Regan Webb & Black - Would-Be Christmas Wedding

She’d caught her daughter doing the same thing more than once since Casey started working in ops. Situational awareness was a skill taught to field agents in the CIA as well as any other number of agencies. If she’d asked him, she knew he could give her an accurate description of everyone in the room and the best way out if any trouble cropped up.

He was definitely one of her brother’s Specialists, and the last shred of hope she’d clung to that their meeting online had been a coincidence dwindled to zero. She needed a plan, needed to get to the bottom of his motives before she wound up used—or worse.

The man might have a generous streak, but it didn’t require an active intuition to see there was more under the charming surface. “It was a pleasure to meet you, but maybe this isn’t the best night for dinner. Let’s talk more tomorrow at the gala.” She slid off the stool just as someone behind him shifted, and she found herself pressed tight against his warm, hard body.

Speaking of situational awareness... She looked up at him, captivated by the cool gaze that only increased her body temperature.

“Why don’t we go somewhere less crowded?”

Yes! “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.” She inched away from him, fighting the overwhelming urge to get closer. “As generous as you are, we’re scarcely more than strangers.”

“I made a reservation for us at that steak house down the street.”

The crowd shifted again, and this time he braced to keep from bumping into her. She was outrageously disappointed.

“Come on.” He smiled and her heart jolted. “Let’s share an appetizer and then you can decide if dinner is an option.”

She felt herself nodding an agreement before she could voice a reasonable excuse.

He took her coat from her grasp and held it for her, straightening the collar and smoothing his hands over her shoulders. He retrieved his coat—a supple leather bomber-style jacket—from the hook just under the bar top.

He gestured for her to go first, and when she checked the reflection, she saw his eyes weren’t on her, but the crowd around them. Something wasn’t quite right. Was he protecting her or preparing to snatch her away?

Oh, she had to get her brother’s voice out of her head so she could find her own way through this situation. She pushed through the door to the street and turned to just ask him outright, but another of his smiles completely derailed her train of thought.

“Is it always so crowded in there? It’s a wine bar.”

His beleaguered expression earned her sympathy. Apparently the profile notation that said he didn’t like crowds was truthful. Giving him the benefit of the doubt, she said, “It’s a popular wine bar. And every place is busier since we’re closing in on Christmas.” She gestured to indicate the white lights and holiday color dressing up the Old Town district of Alexandria.

“Fair point,” he agreed, falling into step beside her.

“Was the holiday spirit what moved you to make that donation?”

His lips twitched and he ducked his head to avoid a low-hanging strand of white lights. “In part. I’m not typically one for the holiday spirit. Mostly it was you. After we met online, I poked around and found that video your organization posted. Who could resist?”

Plenty of people in this economy, she’d discovered. “What is it that you do, Mr. Holt?”

“You call me Emmett online,” he reminded her.

His low voice sent a ripple of anticipation across her skin. “Emmett,” she repeated, like a besotted schoolgirl.

“I’m in private security.”

She turned her gaze toward the street, hiding her unjustified disappointment. Even if their online flirtation was genuine, she knew he wouldn’t have told her what he really did and who he really worked for. It would have been a breach of security at this stage. Even as the director’s sister, she wouldn’t know Mission Recovery existed if she hadn’t been married to a man like William. She told herself it was too soon to have any opinion on situations that fell into the delicate area of security clearances.

Still, she needed to know if he was here as friend or foe. “Ah, that explains it.”

“Explains what?”

She shrugged. “The way you scout a room and keep track of people. Don’t worry. It’s not obvious to most women.”

He gave her an arch look.

“I have relatives who are also in security-related jobs. Par for the course this close to DC,” she added, wishing he’d take the bait and elaborate. Wishing she had the courage to demand clarification. It felt so uneven to be this attracted to a virtual stranger without any idea if his responses were sincere. It was an odd sensation to realize someday in the field someone would look at her and wonder the same thing.

“It’s a habit we all develop, I suppose.”

“A matter of survival,” she agreed. “Or so they tell me.” Come January she’d be getting the training firsthand. No more inferring from the vague references her family made. It was an exciting thought, and she grinned with anticipation.

“Now, that’s quite a look, Mrs. Manning.”

“Cecelia,” she corrected. “I’m changing jobs after the holidays and whenever I think about it, I get excited.”

“What type of change?” He pulled open the door of the restaurant and she stepped into the dim alcove.

“Just something more active.” If he could hedge, so could she. It was good practice, anyway. “My company had openings in another department. All the recent charity endeavors made me realize I’m ready to get out from behind a desk.”

He gave his name to the hostess and they were seated immediately. “What have you been doing?” he asked when they were settled in a cozy corner booth.

“I focus on basic administration for the human resources department. It’s utterly boring, sifting through the same documents day in and day out. The job served its purpose while our daughter was growing up, but I’m ready to branch out now.”

“You seem eager to try something new.”

“Precisely.” A man as perceptive as Emmett had probably already noticed that her hormones were willing to start that something new with him at the first opportunity.

The waiter came by with water and offered the evening’s specials. They ordered drinks and the sampler of appetizers and Cecelia returned to her task of trying to unravel Emmett’s motives.

“How long will you be in town?”

“Probably just through the weekend.”

“Probably?” she echoed. Where had her conversational skills gone? He’d been trained to divert the curiosity she was so clearly showing, but she could do better.

“I’m really just here for you. For the gala,” he added as though it was an afterthought. “Haven’t had much cause to pull out the penguin suit lately, figured I should enjoy it. After that, it’s back to work.”

“In DC?”

“Same as everyone else in this area,” he said with that half smile that made her want to sigh.

She agreed with a nod. “You won’t take time off for the holidays?” Before her brother’s announcement this afternoon, she’d been determined to boldly invite him to join her on a beach in the Caymans in a few days’ time.

“Someone has to keep the office running. All the other guys have family.” He shrugged. “I volunteer to stick around on holidays and put out the occasional fire so they don’t have to.”

“That’s thoughtful of you.”

One shoulder hitched in a casual shrug. “When you have kids, you should be there for them.”

“That was my philosophy.”

But now it was her turn to do something solely for herself... The problem was, this part may have been a mistake.