Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover #2) - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,11

complex later on.”

I study her for a second. Hell if I know what to call him. The Puppy works for me.

Several boys run past us, chasing each other and laughing. One of them tags his friend and yells, “You’re it.”

“Any suggestions on what I should call him?” I ask her.

She takes my phone from me and studies the picture for a moment. Her light floral scent teases me briefly before she leans away again. Something inside me stirs. I ignore it, unable to put a name to it.

They say some pets look a lot like their owners. I don’t know how much truth there is to that. Jayden and his dog don’t bear much resemblance to each other. Plus, Mojo is more on the lazy side. The same can’t be said about Jayden.

When it comes to Chloe’s hair color, she and the puppy have that in common.

But that’s where the similarities between them end. The puppy is…well, he’s just a puppy. Chloe is sexy as all hell.

But not sexy like the women I’ve been known to hook up with in the past. Those women were more blatant with their sex appeal.

Chloe is sexy in a sweet, wholesome way.

And that thought reminds me exactly why I’m here, in the playground, watching kids during recess.

I’m supposed to be her boyfriend—the man who’s going to protect her sexy ass. The man who’s charged with discovering where her cousin is hiding so the Feds can finally nail his sorry ass to the wall.

“Whiskey. That’s what I think you should call him.”

A barked laugh erupts from my lungs. “You think I should name him after an alcoholic beverage?”

“Sure, why not? The color of his coat reminds me of a glass of whiskey. I mean, you can call him Jack or Daniel, but Whiskey sounds cuter…and he’s definitely a cute puppy.”

“Do you like whiskey?” She looks more like a wine drinker to me. A wine drinker who owns a winery she might not know about.

“Can’t say I’ve ever had it. But the elderly gentlemen where I volunteer have hinted quite loudly that they would love it if I sneaked some in for them.” She grins. “Anyway, it seems like the perfect name.”

“Okay, Whiskey it is.” Because it’s not like the little dude will be with me for long, so I don’t really care one way or another what he’s called.

After recess, I spend the morning playing math games with the kids. This is followed by them working on their math coloring pages while I walk around checking on how they’re doing.

“Does anyone have any questions?” I ask at one point when some of them start to get restless, squirming in their seats like they’re sitting on an ant nest.

Wrong thing to inquire.

“Have you kissed a frog?” Jessica asks. “My sister told me if you kiss a frog, it turns into a prince.”

“Nah ah,” Kathleen says, shaking her head so fast I wouldn’t be surprised if she gets whiplash. “If he kisses a frog, it’ll turn into a princess ’cuz he’s a man.”

Twenty-five pairs of curious eyes turn my way. “Is that true?” Ryan asks. “If you kiss a frog, it’ll turn into a girl frog?”

“A princess,” Kathleen corrects.

“Same thing,” Ryan retorts.

“No, it isn’t,” Pigtails—officially known as Patty—says. “Princesses live in big palaces.” She stretches her arms out wide, demonstrating how big these palaces are, and almost pokes Ryan in the eye.

“Good point,” I say because I assume that’s true. The girls here probably know a helluva lot more about princesses and royalty than I’ll ever care to know.

“Have you kissed a frog?” Jessica asks me again.

“Can’t say I have or that it’s on the agenda.”

Twenty-five heads nod, apparently satisfied with the answer.

Until…

“Why haven’t you kissed a frog?” she asks.

“I’m selective of who I kiss. You can’t just go around kissing anyone.” That’s pretty close to the truth.

I haven’t kissed everyone.

But I have kissed a fair number of women over the years—and that’s not including the girls horny teenager-me kissed after I discovered the joys of the opposite sex.

“Now, let me rephrase my earlier question. Does anyone have any questions about math?”

Ryan’s hand shoots up. I nod for him to ask it.

“What is one million and ninety-eight times fifty-five?”

“That wasn’t the kind of question I had in mind. Any questions about the coloring page you’re working on?”

Note to self: Be as specific as possible when asking the kids a question.

The bell rings, announcing lunchtime. I direct the kids to get their lunch bags and return to their