Ha, ha. “I’ve got this, Rae. He and I have talked—we both know the deal. He doesn’t want to get serious with anyone, and…I don’t want to get serious with him.”

“All right. If you say so,” Rae said, not seeming entirely convinced. “So when are you and Smug Dimples seeing each other again?”

Rylann hemmed and hawed a bit. “Um…tonight, actually.”

Rae raised an eyebrow. “Two dates in one week.”

Rylann shook her head. “Not a date. He’s going to the Bulls game with his sister’s boyfriend and asked if he could drop by afterward. It’s just a hookup.”

“A prearranged hookup.”

“Exactly,” Rylann said.

“In other words, a date.”

“If we ever step outside the nine hundred square feet of my apartment”—which was not likely—”then I’ll call it a date.” Rylann checked her watch. 2:59. Which meant that Target B was about to leave his office and would soon be en route to the rendezvous point with Target A. Within minutes, Operation Setup would be fully under way.

Until the whole sneak attack went up in flames.

Rae saw Rylann check her watch, and did the same. “I should probably get going. I’ve got a pile of document requests waiting for me back at the office.” She stood up from the table.

“Wait.” Rylann tried to think quickly, needing to stall just a minute or two longer. “Maybe you were right. Maybe it’s not a good idea for me to see you-know-who tonight.”

Rae waved this off. “You sound like you’ve got the situation under control.”

“Still, perhaps we should fully vet the pros and cons.”

Rae ticked off her fingers, running through her list. “You’re having sex. Great sex. With a man who brings you expensive wine. Pro, pro, pro.” She held up three fingers. “Yep, I’m good with the situation.”

Well, when she put it that way…Rylann quickly changed tactics, not yet ready to concede failure on Operation Setup. “But we haven’t talked about what’s going on with you.”

“Because, depressingly, there is nothing going on with me.”

“Then let’s talk about that.”

Rae looked her over suspiciously. “Why are you suddenly so insistent that I stay? We talk all the time.” She cocked her head. “And come to think of it, why have you been checking your watch this whole time? It’s like you’re waiting for somebody.” Her eyes went wide, then she gasped and pointed her finger. “No. Do not tell me this is a setup.”

“Calm down, it’s not a setup.” Rylann hedged a little on that. “I’d call it more a meet and greet. Just a guy I work with; it’ll be totally casual. He doesn’t even know you’re—”

“Uh-uh. No way.” Rae grabbed her purse and drink off the table. “You know I hate these kinds of things. They’re so artificial and forced.”

“Come on. After all the matchmaking schemes you’ve put me through since college, you owe me.”

“That’s probably true. But still, I’m out of here.” Rae took a step back from the table.

As if in slow motion, Rylann saw what was about to happen. “Rae, look—”

“Nice try, Pierce. But you’re going to have to try a little harder to get the jump on me.” With a satisfied grin, she whirled around and—

—ran smack into the chest of one designer-suit-wearing Special Agent Sam Wilkins.

A chest now drenched in iced cappuccino.

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry,” Rae blurted out.

He sighed. “It would have to be one of the Varvatos suits.” Then he peered down at Rae, seeing her face for the first time. “Oh. Hello.”

Rae’s gaze lingered several seconds, seemingly mesmerized by his dazzling smile. She held up the soggy napkin from her drink. “Napkin?”

He took the napkin from her. “Assault with a loaded cappuccino. That’s a new one.”

Just in time, Rae recovered her wits. “Purely self-defense. You sidled up on me without warning.”

“Those would be my stealth moves.” He held out his hand. “Special Agent Sam Wilkins.”

“Rae Ellen Mendoza.”

Back at the table, Rylann watched this interaction with interest. Rae Ellen? This was getting serious. She waved cheerfully at Wilkins. “Good to see you again, Sam.”

Rae shot her a look. “You two know each other?”

“Sure do.” Wilkins blotted the coffee on his suit with the wet napkin. “We work together.”

“How interesting,” Rae said. “And you just happened to be in the area?”

“Actually, yes,” Wilkins said. “I was in front of the grand jury this afternoon for three hours and needed some caffeine before heading back to the FBI office. Saw Rylann and thought I’d come over to say hi.”

“Oh.” Rae pointed to his wet suit, making an apologetic face. “Sorry you have to go back to the office like that.”

“Since I’m by far the best-dressed agent in the office, you’re really putting my reputation on the line here. Luckily, I know how you can make it up to me.” Wilkins reached into the inner pocket of his blazer, exposing a glimpse of his gun harness. He pulled out his business card and handed it to Rae. “That’s my info. Call me—so I know where to send my dry cleaning bill,” he added with an amused sparkle in his light brown eyes.