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alreadyfriendly chatter and come-and-get-me smiles, these two had already decided they were a good match.
    Once the two newcomers had on their name tags, Katelyn whispered their identities so the tech back at headquarters could begin background checks. In case something serious developed between them, she didn’t want this couple to become the sniper’s next targets.
    â€œKate Kennedy?” she heard the now-familiar voice say. “Is that really you?”
    It was show time. She took a long breath, braced herself and turned toward him to start the charade.
    Oh, mercy.
    She obviously hadn’t braced herself nearly enough.
    At the wedding, she’d seen Joe Rico’s GQ look, and over the past couple of days, his urban cop look of khakis and button-down dress shirts. But this was obviously his cool hot-guy look.
    It worked.
    Black pants, perfectly tailored. A deep crimson red crewneck pullover that hugged his chest the way men’s chests should be hugged. Well, men with great chests, anyway.
    Which he had.
    The breeze coming in from the still-open door stirred his lightweight jacket. Also black. He’d likely worn it to conceal his .357 Magnum, but it made him look a little mysterious, confident. And dangerous.
    Katelyn bet he’d never had to take a deep breath to steady himself. On the other hand, she required several more.
    â€œJoe?” she managed to say, when she remembered how to form words. Sheez, her throat actually clamped up. She added a staged giggle of excitement to unclamp it. “It is you. I can’t believe this.”
    As they’d discussed, Joe and she went to each other immediately, and he pulled her into his arms. Yep. He was definitely carrying concealed, and there was a backup in the slide holster on the rear waist of his pants.
    â€œYou’re early,” he whispered.
    â€œYou’re not,” she countered, also in a whisper.
    â€œI was busy. We might have a little problem.”
    Okay. Little didn’t sound so bad. Little problems always arose during undercover missions. “What—”
    That’s as far as Katelyn got.
    Joe brushed his mouth over hers. A friendly sort of gesture—which they’d also discussed should happen. In theory, such a gesture was supposed to announce to the people at the agency that they were staking their personal claims on each other. Like his clothes, it worked. Katelyn heard the other couple and Bruce Donovan mention something about an apparent perfect match.
    Katelyn also heard her heart pounding in her ears and felt her body turning soft and warm.
    And she cursed herself.
    Talk about being a hormonal wimp. Somehow, she had to make herself immune to any carnal-related reactions to Joe Rico, and she did that with a simple reminder that he was not only her boss but also the man investigating her brother.
    That immediately cooled off her body.
    She pulled back, both literally and figuratively.
    â€œIncoming, six o’clock,” Joe whispered.
    In other words, someone was approaching from directly behind her. While Joe kept her firmly against him, she turned her head, already smiling, and came face-to-face with Addison Merrick, the owner of Perfect Match. He was also one of their suspects.
    He seemed younger than Katelyn had expected, and she’d expected young. Merrick was barely twenty-six but could have passed for a teenager. Well, except for the gunmetal-gray eyes. There was something not so youthful about them.
    Merrick wasn’t alone. A broad-shouldered man came into the reception area with him and took up position near the door. It was Katelyn’s guess that he wasn’t a client looking for love but was rather a bodyguard. Maybe this was the little problem Joe had mentioned.
    â€œI smell success,” Merrick greeted.
    No all-American, surfer-dude smile from him. It was on the mechanical side. Probably no perverted, name-tag-pinning intentions, either. He looked more like the Ivy