She was so rattled, she dropped the paintbrush. Fortunately, it landed on the tarp she’d put down on the hardwood floors.

What was he doing here? Had something happened? Of course something had happened, she decided, answering her own question. He wouldn’t be here otherwise.

Maybe he found out where Evan Patterson was hiding and wanted to tell her. No, no, if that was true, he would have picked up the phone and called her.

Oh Lord, her father was home. He was probably sitting on the front porch reading the news on his laptop. He was already stressed out. A federal agent stopping by could send him right over the edge.

Dressed in a pair of old shorts, a sleeveless blouse spotted with lavender paint, and flip-flops, she dashed down the stairs, flew through the living room, and ran outside. She passed her father without saying a word and came to a screeching halt about a foot in front of Max.

She couldn’t seem to catch her breath, but it wasn’t because she was out of shape. It was because of him. When he saw her, a huge smile spread across his face. That dimple in his cheek could cause foolish women to go weak in the knees. She wasn’t a foolish woman, she reminded herself.

He looked sexy as sin. Damn it.

Her greeting wasn’t polite. “What are you doing here?”

Max was looking past her. “Is that your father? He looks like he’s going to pass out. Ah . . .”

“Ah, what?” she asked, frowning.

“He’s staring at my gun.”

“Great,” she whispered. “Just great.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m so happy you could make it,” she said loud enough for her father to hear. She then leaned up and kissed Max on his cheek.

He couldn’t resist. He pulled her into his arms, told her she had paint in her hair, and kissed her on her mouth. It was quick but amazingly thorough. “That should put some color back in his face,” he said.

She put her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear, “I haven’t told my parents about the shooting in the park . . . or about Sean Goodman . . . you know . . .”

“Got it.”

Side by side they walked up the porch steps to where her father waited, and Ellie made the introductions.

“Dad, this is my friend Max Daniels.”

“William Sullivan,” her father said, stepping forward to shake his hand.

“It’s good to meet you, sir.”

Never one to mince words, William said, “I notice you carry a gun.”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

“And a badge,” Ellie nervously interjected. “He carries a badge, too. Max is an agent with the FBI.”

Frowning intently now, her father asked how the two had met. It was obvious he was suspicious.

“The hospital,” she rushed to answer before Max could say a word. “We met in the hospital. His friend needed surgery.” She added nonchalantly, “Routine stuff.”

She was nodding vigorously, even as she tried to calm down. This wasn’t the Inquisition. Why was she so nervous? She knew the answer to that one. She was a frickin’ basket case because Max had astounded her, showing up the way he did.

Max could see the worry in her father’s eyes, so he casually took hold of Ellie’s hand and pulled her into his side. “Ellie did the surgery,” he said proudly.

She nodded again. She was beginning to feel like a bobblehead doll. “Yes, I did, and Max and I started seeing each other.”

She felt terrible lying to her father, but she justified her actions by reasoning that her motives were good. If she told him the truth, he would dwell on all the possibilities of what could have happened to her.

Her father visibly relaxed. “I’m very happy to meet one of Ellie’s friends. Why don’t we go inside and get something cool to drink. You must be parched.” He motioned for them to go in ahead of him.

Ellie’s mother came out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a frilly apron. “William, dinner will be ready in—” She stopped mid-sentence as soon as she saw Max, and her reaction was almost identical to her husband’s when he’d first noticed the gun.

“Claire, this is Max Daniels,” William said. “He’s a friend of Ellie’s.”

“A friend?”

“Yes, Mother,” Ellie said. “A friend.”

“Oh,” she said as she nervously patted her hair. Her gaze bounced back and forth between the pair.

Max smiled as he took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“My goodness, you’re handsome.” She laughed after making the comment. “You’re staying for dinner, of course.”

“I’d love to.”

Her mother beamed with pleasure. What had come over her? Ellie wondered.

“Why don’t we sit in our hearth room just off the kitchen,” her father suggested.

Where they could grill him, Ellie thought. And she was right. The questions began, one on top of the other.

Ellie didn’t know whether Max liked sweet tea or not, but the glass was offered, and he accepted. She stood by the kitchen island, watching, and had the most amazing revelation: Max could be charming. And her mother? She was so excited and flustered, she was blushing. Was her behavior because her daughter had finally found another man? That possibility riled. Or was her mother acting strange because Max was so adorable . . . with her, anyway.

“Ellie, why don’t you go upstairs and change before dinner,” her mother suggested.

“I’m almost finished painting the room. I just have the trim to do.” And one wall, she silently added. “When is dinner?”

“In an hour.”

“I’ll help paint,” Max said.

Ellie was all for that. She couldn’t wait to get him alone and find out why he had come all this way.

“No, you’re a guest,” her father said.

“He likes to paint,” Ellie rushed to say.

“How long will you be staying?” her father asked.

“No time at all,” Ellie answered for him.

Neither parent paid any attention to her.

“William, Max is Ellie’s plus one. He’ll be staying at least until after the wedding. Won’t you, Max?”

“He’s my what?” Ellie asked.

“Your plus one, dear.”

“No, he’s not—”

“I’ll be leaving when Ellie leaves,” Max said, and the look he shot her suggested she not argue.

“You’ll be flying back with her?”

“That’s right.”

Ellie was shaking her head at Max. Her parents ignored her protest and so did he.

“Our daughter couldn’t be in safer hands, with her own FBI agent at her side,” William said. “Have you checked into one of the motels or the hotel yet?” he asked Max.

“No, sir, I came directly here.”

“Good,” he replied. “You’ll stay in the apartment over the garage. It’s not as bad as it sounds. In fact, it’s very comfortable, isn’t it, Claire?”

“Oh yes, it is.”

“I’m staying in the apartment,” Ellie said.

“Yes, dear, you are,” her mother agreed.

“There are two bedrooms,” her father reminded her.

“And you’re both adults,” her mother added.

Ellie was speechless. It was so unlike her father to be lackadaisical about sleeping arrangements. Yes, she was an adult, but until this minute, her father had never treated her as such. And her mother’s attitude was even more shocking. She was always so prim and proper, a true Southern lady, who tended to worry a little too much about what other people would say. She apparently didn’t give a hoot about them now, though.

“I’ll admit I’ll sleep easier knowing you’ll be watching out for her,” William said. “Has Ellie mentioned Evan Patterson to you?”

Max nodded. “Yes, sir, I know all about him.”

He sighed with relief. “My daughter keeps things inside. I wasn’t sure whether she’d shared her past with you, but I’m very pleased she did. Now you understand why I’m happy you’ll be staying with us.”

“Dad, Max didn’t say he could stay—”

“I’d love to stay here.”

“Good,” William said. “Do you think after dinner we might sit down and talk about Patterson for a minute?”

“Of course,” he answered.

“I’d love to find out about you two,” her mother said. “How long you’ve been seeing each other and how—”

“Later, Mom,” Ellie interrupted. “After dinner you may ask all the questions you want. The paintbrushes are going to dry out. Come on, Max. You offered to paint. Let’s go.”

He followed her upstairs. She was muttering something, but Max couldn’t make out what she was saying. From her tone, he knew she wasn’t happy. Too bad, he thought. He had come all this way to protect her, and by God, that was exactly what he was going to do.

Concentrating solely on the job was going to take discipline. The first thought he’d had when he’d arrived at her house and saw her coming down the stairs toward him was that she was safe, and he’d felt a tremendous jolt of relief. The second thought was less professional. He’d wondered if her legs had gotten longer since he’d last seen her. By the time she’d reached him, he’d conjured up all sorts of fantasies about her.

Ellie led the way into Annie’s bedroom. Max took a step back when he saw the color on the walls.

She waited until he had shut the door behind him and then said, “It’s bad, isn’t it? Of course, it’s bad. You wouldn’t have come here if it was good news. You would have called, right? So it’s bad. Just tell me, Max. How bad?”

Max heard her father coming up the stairs. Now wasn’t the time to explain. Ellie was bound to get upset, and from her father’s response to seeing his gun, Max knew he wouldn’t take the news well at all.

“Roller or brush?” Max said.

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

He repeated the question just as her father opened the door and stepped inside, saying, “I’ll use the roller. Why don’t you two paint the trim. How much do you have left to do, Ellie?”

“Two windows,” she answered.

The trim was white, the walls an iridescent shade of lavender. Max took one window, Ellie the other. She kept glancing over at him while she tried to think of a way to get her father to leave, but he wasn’t going anywhere. He was in a cheerful and chatty mood, no doubt because her friend was armed.

Once again she felt a pang of guilt. Having her home was a burden for him. She shouldn’t have given in to her mother’s pleas. It would have been so much better for her father if she had stayed away.

“You’ll have to see the falls while you’re here. It’s a short hike but worth it, isn’t it, Ellie?” he asked as he poured paint into the roller pan.

“Yes, it is,” she replied. “I don’t know that Max will have time—”

“Sure he will,” her father argued. “You did say you were going to be here until Ellie leaves, didn’t you, Max?”

“I did,” Max answered.

Ellie glared at him. He winked at her.

“How long have you two been seeing each other?” her father asked.

Determined to nip the personal questions in the bud, she said, “Awhile now, Dad. Max, did I tell you that my father has a Ph.D. in mathematics? He’s a dean now at the university. Did I mention that to you?”

“Ellie, Max doesn’t want to hear about my achievements. I’ll bet he’s curious about yours.”

“I am,” Max said. “What was she like as a child?”

“Difficult,” he said, grinning.

“I’m not surprised,” Max said.

“Hey . . . ,” she began in protest.

“And challenging,” her father added. “She kept . . . amazing us.”

“How?”

Pausing in his task, William held the roller over the pan while he considered which story to tell.

“She was about seven or eight, and there was a visiting professor . . .”

“Oh, Daddy, don’t tell the auditorium story.”

“Ellie, it’s one of my favorites,” he protested.

She knew it was pointless to argue. When her father was set on something, no one could change his mind.

“I was much older,” she muttered.

He ignored her correction. “There was this professor in mathematics from England. Dr. Nigel Goodrick was his name, and he was a real interesting fellow. He never would have lectured at such a small university, but he was visiting a relative who happened to live here, and so he agreed. Goodrick was a bit persnickety and quite arrogant. Wasn’t he, Ellie?”

“I thought he was mean,” she said. “And he smelled funny, like mothballs.”

“Ellie was spending a couple of hours with me at the university that afternoon, and it just happened to be the time Dr. Goodrick had picked to give a lecture to our math students on the great nineteenth-century German mathematician Carl Friedrich Gauss. We anticipated a large gathering, so the lecture was moved to the main auditorium. He was down on the stage, and Ellie and I were sitting on the aisle about fifteen or twenty rows back. The kids, the students . . . were bored. I’ll admit Professor Goodrick was a little dull.”

“He was a snooze,” Ellie interjected. She was working on the windowsill and stepped back to check her work.

“No one left the auditorium, though. The students were getting extra credit by attending, but instead of signing in, they had to sign out after the lecture was over. Otherwise, they would have left. Most of them zoned out the minute he began his dissertation on Gauss’s life and his contributions to mathematics.”

“Can’t say that I would have been any different,” Max admitted. “Afraid I’ve never heard of Gauss.”

“If you’re not in the field, it’s unlikely that you would know much about him,” William said. “You could have heard a pin drop in that auditorium, but it was because most of the audience was asleep—which made what Ellie did all the more conspicuous.”

“What was that?” Max asked.

“Dr. Goodrick had just told one of the legends about Gauss. It’s said that he was quite precocious as a youngster and was always getting in trouble in school. One day a teacher, for punishment, told him to add all the numbers between one and one hundred. Of course, the teacher assumed that this would keep young Friedrich busy for quite some time, but when Gauss completed it in just seconds, the teacher was astonished.

“Dr. Goodrick told this story, and then he asked if any of the students in his audience could tell him the answer that Gauss came up with or how he did it. The room was silent. Several moments passed, and then Ellie stood up and looked around the auditorium . . .”

“I was waiting for one of the big kids to raise a hand.”

“But no one did,” her father said. “And so my daughter raised her hand. I remember Goodrick had a smirk on his face as he berated the students for not having even a guess, and he accused them of not paying attention—which, if you think about it, was actually a criticism of his lecturing skills—but he finally noticed Ellie and pointed to her. ‘A child has a question for me?’ he asked.”

Max smiled. He had a feeling he knew what was coming.

“Ellie looked embarrassed because now everyone was staring at her, but she said, ‘No, sir. I know the answer—five thousand fifty.’ Goodrick then saw me sitting beside her and, thinking I had fed the answer to her, wagged the marker at her and challenged her to show the audience how she arrived at the conclusion.”

Ellie turned around and interrupted her father’s account. “I’m finished with this window. Want me to help you finish yours?” she asked Max.

“And did she?” Max asked William, ignoring her.

“She certainly did,” he answered. “She went up on the stage, took the marker from him, and showed that the problem could be broken down into fifty pairs of identical sums of one hundred one. And fifty times one hundred one gives the answer: five thousand fifty. Goodrick looked thunderstruck, but to his credit, he did congratulate her on getting it right. He then asked if she could solve another problem. I realized he was trying his best to trick her with the second one, but she got that right, too.”

Ellie waved her brush at her father. “Dad, Max doesn’t want to hear—”

“Yes, I do,” Max said.

Her father continued, “I put a stop to it after those two problems and took Ellie home.”

“He made me promise not to tell Mom what happened,” she said.

“How come?” Max asked.

“Claire and I had agreed to help our daughter lead as normal a life as possible,” William said. “Getting up onstage and drawing attention to her capabilities at such a young age . . . her mother and I didn’t want that, and . . .”

“And what?”

He looked sheepish. “And I knew I’d catch hell if my wife found out.” He laughed and said, “I swear it was the only time I allowed her to perform in public. Ellie always loved math. She read all the books I brought home, and she and I would do problems together every now and then at night when the twins were having their baths or doing their homework.”

Fortunately, her father resisted the need to tell more stories about her, and Ellie was thankful. She finished the painting, and while her father took Max out to the garage to show him the apartment, she showered and changed into clean jeans and a blouse.

Her mother didn’t approve of the outfit. “You should put on a skirt. We have company.”

“Mom, he’s just a friend.”

“Set the table in the dining room.”

“We have a huge, round kitchen table. Max will be just as comfortable here. Besides, you’ve already got it set for dinner.”

“I just thought it should be a little more formal. When Ava and John come for dinner, she always insists we dine in the dining room.”

Of course she does, Ellie thought. Ava was all about appearances.

“We don’t need to impress him.”

“Oh, all right. Go ahead and set a place for him at the kitchen table.”

“Thanks, Mom.” She kissed her mother on the cheek.

“Since you’re in such a good mood . . . ,” her mother began.

Ellie got a plate down from the cabinet. “The answer is still no.”

She carried the silverware and linen napkin to the table and set a place for Max. Never in a million years would she have guessed she’d be doing this for him.

“You don’t even know what I’m going to ask,” her mother said as she began to gather vegetables from the refrigerator.

Ellie took them from her and put them on the counter next to the sink. Her mother handed her a chopping board.

“I was just saying that since you’re in a good mood, you might want to reconsider . . .”

“I’m not going to be in the wedding.”

“Now, Eleanor Kathleen . . . ,” her mother said.

“You’re wasting your time.”

“You’ll break your sister’s heart.”

Ellie shook her head slowly. “Guilt isn’t going to work. The answer is no.”

“No, what?” her father asked as he came in the back door with Max.

“Your daughter is being stubborn,” her mother said.

Max was carrying tomatoes from the garden William had proudly shown him. He laid them in the sink and turned the water on to wash them. Next to him, Ellie was chopping vegetables. Her mother saw how fast she was working and immediately cautioned her.

“You be careful with that knife. It’s sharp.”

Ellie didn’t look up. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And slow down, for heaven’s sake. You’ll cut your finger off. Here, give that knife to me. I’ll do it.”

“I’ll slow down,” Ellie promised.

Her father had gone into the hearth room and was standing with his hands in his pockets, watching the news on television, and her mother had gone into the dining room to get one of her fancy salad bowls when Max leaned into Ellie’s side. “Your mom knows you’re a surgeon, right?”

She laughed. “Yes, she does.”

“So she’s got to know you use sharp knives.”

“Both my mom and dad know what I have become, but neither one of them saw me get there. I was a child when I left home. They weren’t there to see the progress from university to medical school to residency to fellowship. They didn’t hear all the stories that happen during training.”

William walked into the kitchen. “Max?”

“Yes, sir?”

“It appears it will be a while before dinner is ready. Do you have a minute to step out in the backyard and have a talk?”

Uh-oh, Ellie didn’t like the sound of that. “A talk about what?” she asked.

“Patterson,” her father answered. “If Max is interested, I thought I would catch him up on what I’ve learned from my friends in the FBI.”

“Sure,” Max said. “I’ve got the time.” Turning to Ellie, he whispered, “Don’t you leave this house.”

Ellie stood at the sink, staring out at the yard. She couldn’t see the two men, but she could hear the low murmur of their voices. She was certain Max was asking all sorts of questions.

He knew just about everything about her; she knew absolutely nothing about him. Well, not exactly. She knew he lived in Honolulu but grew up in Montana. And that was it. Sisters? Brothers? She didn’t have a clue. She needed a plan, she decided, to get through dinner. As soon as it was over, she’d get him alone and start demanding answers.

Dinner was a challenge.

“Where did you grow up, Max?” her father asked as Claire served the salads.

“Butte, Montana.”

“Are your parents still living there?”

“No,” he answered. “When I was a freshman in college, they moved to Minneapolis, Minnesota.”

“Do they live in Minneapolis now?”

“Yes, sir, they do.”

“It gets so cold there and so much snow,” her mother interjected.

“I wouldn’t think it would be too much different from Montana. Gets real cold there, too,” her father said. “What does your father do for a living, Max?”

“He’s an attorney,” he answered. “He worked for the Department of the Interior for twenty-five years, retired, and now works as a children’s advocate for the State of Minnesota.”

“Admirable,” William said. “I imagine it’s a difficult job. Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked without pausing.

Ellie listened to the interrogation with mixed feelings. She wanted to hear more about Max, but she was terrified by the possibilities of where the discussion would lead.

“Dad, stop with the questions please,” she said. “Max isn’t interviewing for a job.”

“We’re just having a friendly conversation,” her father protested.

Max, Ellie noticed, didn’t seem the least fazed by all the questions. She, on the other hand, was sick to her stomach and could barely get her salad down. She never should have lied to her father. As soon as she’d introduced him to Max, she should have told him the truth, but she didn’t. She made the decision to keep quiet because her father hadn’t looked well, and she’d put him through such heartache. How could she have burdened him with more?

“And your mother? Does she work outside the home?” her father asked.

“She teaches music.”

“Any brothers or sisters?” he asked.

“Dad, enough already. Let Max eat.”

“No sisters,” he answered. “I have six brothers. Simon’s the oldest, then me, then Bishop, Sebastian, Bradley, Tyler, and Adam.”

“Your parents had their hands full with so many boys,” Claire said.

“Simon Daniels,” her father said. “That’s the same name as the football player Ellie’s so crazy about. He’s always her number-one pick in her fantasy football leagues.”

“When I get first choice,” Ellie explained.

Max flashed a smile. “You know who Simon Daniels is?”

“Of course I know him. He’s one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL. His stats last year were amazing: over forty-three hundred yards passing, a sixty-eight percent completion rate, lowest number of interceptions in the league. Don’t you follow football?”

“Sure, I do,” he replied. “How many fantasy leagues are you in?”

“I’m cutting back to two this year.”

“Max, would you like more roast beef?” her mother asked.

“No, thank you.”

“What does your brother do for a living?” William asked as he took the platter that Claire handed him.

“He’s a football player.”

Silence followed the statement. It didn’t last long. Ellie dropped her fork.

“Are you telling me your brother is the Simon Daniels, the future Hall of Famer?”

“That’s what I’m telling you.”

Ellie’s mother looked puzzled. “But he’s African-American, and you’re . . . not.”

“Simon’s parents adopted me,” he explained. He smiled as he added, “Then they got on a roll and adopted the others. I was eight years old when my adoption was final.”

“What happened to your biological parents?” William asked.

“Car accident.”

“No more questions, Dad,” Ellie pleaded.

She knew her face was flushed. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. Max had all but knocked her off her feet with his ohso-casual announcement that Simon, the perfect quarterback, was his brother. She was flabbergasted and trying not to let it show.

“Ellie, I couldn’t help but notice you looked thunderstruck by the news that Simon was Max’s brother. You didn’t know?” her father asked.

“Uh . . . no,” she stammered. “Max never mentioned it.” Her mind raced to find an excuse. “But I understand why,” she said.

“Enlighten me,” he persisted, frowning now.

“He wanted me to like him for him . . . not who he’s related to,” she explained and hoped to heaven she was making sense.

Her father nodded, and that gave Ellie hope that he was buying yet another lie.

“There are still lots of things about Max I don’t know yet,” she said. Was that ever an understatement! “We’re getting to know each other.”

She pushed her chair back, stood, and snatched Max’s plate. She was on her way to the sink as she asked, “Finished, Max?”

She cleared the rest of the dishes while her father told an amusing story about one of the professors at the university. Then the topic moved to the wedding.

“The relatives will be pouring in here in two more days, and William and I have been frantically working on the house,” her mother announced.

“Not frantically, Claire.”

“Are there any other bedrooms that need painting?” Max asked.

“No, the lavender room was the last,” William said.

“Who chose that color?”

Ellie was rinsing the salad bowl and putting it in the dishwasher. “You don’t like the color?”

“I didn’t say that. I just wondered who chose it.”

Her parents glanced at each other before answering. The question seemed to surprise them.

“No one chose it,” Ellie’s mother said. “We purchased what was on sale, didn’t we, dear?”

“That’s right. That particular color had been discontinued.”

Max could understand why. The color practically glowed.

“We got it for a song,” William said proudly.

“Would you like some coffee, Max?” Claire asked.

“No, thank you.”

By this time, most of the dishes had been cleared, rinsed, and placed in the dishwasher by Ellie. Her mother carried a pitcher to the counter, and Ellie practically wrenched it from her hands to begin washing it.

“Ellie,” her mother said, “why don’t you and Max get settled in your rooms for the night. It’s been a long day, and I know you two would like some alone time to catch up. And just maybe, after a good night’s rest, you’ll reevaluate your position on the wedding.”

“I assure you that won’t happen,” she said, and before her mother could start in again, Ellie rushed ahead, “Are you sure you don’t want me to finish the dishes?” Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Max’s hand and headed for the back door.

Max made her wait while he thanked her parents for dinner, then followed her outside.

“I like your parents.”

She didn’t look over her shoulder as she crossed the yard at a fast clip to get to the steps.

“Uh-huh,” she agreed. “You’ve probably got a hundred questions about my family, don’t you?”

“No,” he answered. “Okay, maybe a couple.”

“Yes?”

She rushed up the stairs and waited for Max to unlock the dead bolts. He leaned around her, wrapping her in his arms as he slipped the keys in the dead bolts and unlocked the door. If she moved at all, her lips would touch his warm skin. He swung the door open and pulled back so she could go inside.

She walked to the center of the living room, turned around, and folded her arms in front of her while she waited for him to lock the door and give her his full attention. As soon as he was facing her, she said, “Okay, start talking. Why are you here?”

He leaned against the door and grinned. “I thought it was my turn to ask questions.”

She sighed in frustration. “Okay, I’ll give you two. Then you start explaining. Go ahead. Ask away.”

“What’s a plus one?”