Joseph Tiberius Lincoln burst into Emma’s office and her life like a shooting star. An undercover shooting star.

“The man—the young, very young—man bounded up to Gina’s desk, a vision in sartorial confusion. He looked to be in his mid twenties, and definitely was not a fan of mainstream office attire. His ripped jeans, T-shirt that screamed I’m Innocent in fourteen languages, gimme cap, and flip-flops made her think he’d got the wrong office. Wrong building. Maybe even the wrong city.

“What—who are you?” Emma demanded.

“Hey, hey, ladies!” He looked from Gina to Emma. “Have no fear! JT is here!”


“You Emma?”

Oh, dear. That meant he wasn’t in the wrong office. She nodded.

“Well, Em baby, I’m here to make your life beautiful. To take the most horrendous tasks off your calendar. To free you to play with the pretty sparklies all day long. And if there’s anything I can do for you on the personal level, hey, baby, I’m your guy.” By the time he got to the last sentence, JT had reached Emma’s side, put his arms around her and dipped her as though they were finalists in a tango contest.

“Let go of me,” she sputtered.

He did.

She hit the floor. “Ow!” Flustered and furious, she glared up at him.

“Ooops. Looks uncomfortable. Come on, babe, let’s get you on your feet.” He grabbed her hand and pulled.

Emma popped to her feet like a champagne cork coming out of the bottle. The kid was strong, she’d give him that. Crazy, yes. And way too young for her to be noticing the wide shoulders, the to-die-for eyelashes, the Navy SEAL-worthy biceps, the— Yeah. Too young.

But very strong. “Who are you?” she demanded again.

“I told you. I’m Joseph Tiberius.”

“And why are you here? The talent scout’s office is on the next floor.”

“Aw, Emmy, you wound me. What would I do with a talent scout? No, no, no, no. I am here, babe, because I am yours.”

“I’m giving you back.”

“Nuh-uh. I’m your new assistant. The boss man tells me things are a little understaffed around here, and I am now your new, number one gofer. Anything you need done, you just tell ole JT!”

Ole JT grinned down at her, tall, dark, delicious, and young. Or maybe young, hot, and weird was a better description.”

He’s fun, protective, and—it turns out later—very different in his up tight FBI black suit. She wants to keep him, too, and how can that possibly work?