I felt awful. Worse than awful. And that didn’t sit well with me.

His eyes were piercing. Direct. I began to wonder how much he actually saw.

Was he looking at the illusion I had created?

Or was he digging his way to the truth?

To the real Hannah?

I felt ill. My belly clenched and my hands became clammy.

Could Mason know? Was he playing with me just as I was playing with him?

He was an FBI agent, after all.

His walls had been remarkably easy to scale. Could a man trained to find criminals really not know that the woman he touched was one?

I stared up at the man whose life I had infiltrated. His expression was concerned, his eyes soft. I couldn’t detect any duplicity. He appeared to be someone who cared. A man possibly falling.

It upset me.

Because of the secrets.

They can weigh a heart down.

My heart could have nothing to do with this.

I couldn’t afford it.

But it did. I couldn’t stop the way it pounded for a man who shouldn’t have mattered.

But in spite of this, I had to make sure he didn’t suspect me. That his trail was stone cold.

It was his heart or my freedom.

Choosing one over the other shouldn’t be hard.

I slowly let my shoulders sag. I unclenched my fists.

I had a part to play. Appearances were important.

I was the romantic interest of the unsuspecting FBI agent. That was my role.

Why was I starting to hate the mask so damn much?

He took my hand and gave it a squeeze, regarding me steadily. “You okay?”

Calm. Even. Give away nothing.

Why did I want, if only for a moment, to give him something more?

“It was a long day. I’m fine now that I’m here,” I said.

He ran his hand through my hair. “You don’t have to pretend. I know we haven’t known each other that long, but you can trust me.”

Trust.

Why did that sound like such a dirty word?

He wants me to trust him.

His offer was without guile. Without pretext.

I could see that.

The twinge of guilt was back. And it was uncomfortable.

“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I gave him a weak smile.

“Why do I feel like you’re not being truthful?” Mason asked, his fingers on the nape of my neck.

My throat felt tight.

“I’m being truthful,” I protested, sounding defensive.

Chill out! I scolded myself.

“I’m just saying that you can talk to me. I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” He gave me his sexiest grin and I felt my stomach tumble and flip.

I was off balance. The conversation with Rose had unglued the tiny little pieces I was trying to hold in place.

And now, with Mason looking at me, his blue, blue eyes seeing way too much, I was unnerved.

Trust me.

I swallowed thickly, my mouth painfully dry.

This is going to fall apart.

“I got a call from an old friend just before I came here,” I found myself telling him.

Giving him a truth when I should be feeding him lies.

“And that has you looking like someone ran over your cat?” he asked, running a hand up and down my arm comfortingly.

We hadn’t moved from his front door. We stood close together, warm in each other’s presence.

I had a mission.

One that didn’t involve being something real.

Then why was I contemplating telling Mason about Rose?

About how she rattled me, even after all these years?

Why would I give him anything?

He wasn’t privy to the real Hannah.

He was being fed doses of a woman concocted for a specific reason.

Yet I had told him about missing my dad. I’d opened up about Charlotte. As much as I tried to tightly control the story, it was unraveling. Edges were starting to fray, the threads dangling around me no matter how hard I tried to keep them together.

Standing in front of him made it harder to keep the image intact. It was easier to lie when you didn’t care.

And that was the problem.

I was starting to care.

There was something about the way he looked at me, how he gave me his undivided attention, that made me feel special. Important.

Which I hadn’t felt in my real world in a long, long time.

I hadn’t realized how much I craved being someone’s focus. Feeling like I mattered.

I had hardened myself to affection. Convinced myself I didn’t need it. Didn’t want it.

I rejected it from my mother and allowed it from Charlotte only when I could handle the emotion it unleashed.

Not from anyone else.

My connections were few. It was intentional. I had no room for attachments in the life I had chosen to live.

But I was human. I was drawn to what he offered even as I battled against it.

He was dangerous.

“It was someone I have a complicated history with. I hadn’t spoken to them in years.”

Mason continued to rub my arm, his thumb pressing into my flesh, grounding me.

Reel him in; make him trust you.

Remember why you’re here.

Trust.

Trust.

Trust.

“Was this someone a former lover?” Mason asked. A hint of something in his voice. Jealousy? I wanted to grin like an idiot.

He didn’t like the thought of my being with someone else.

He fancied me his.

I shrugged. “They wanted to be.” I couldn’t give him any more. I had revealed too much already.

We were almost there….

Remember why you’re here.

Ticktock. Ticktock.

I could hear the invisible clock ticking away.

“They’re not important. Not now. I’m here. With you. I don’t want to think about phone calls and warnings—”

“Warnings? What warnings?” Mason pounced, his eyes wide.

Damn it! Get it together, Hannah!

“No, that’s not what I meant. I’m just frazzled. Forget it.” I went up on my tiptoes and kissed him, willing him to forget.

Mason cupped my face between his hands, peering intently into my eyes. “If someone is threatening you, Hannah, you need to let me know. I can help you. If it’s a stalker who can’t take no for an answer, tell me. Those types of situations can escalate quickly.”

I bit down on my bottom lip and silently cursed my stupidity.

“There’s no one threatening me. No psycho you need to worry about. You don’t need to go badass agent, I promise.” I tried to kiss him again. He didn’t respond. His eyes were still troubled.