by Crespo, Nina
She faced him. “I showed you mine, now show me yours.”
He quirked a brow. “Sure you can handle it?”
“Would I ask if I couldn’t?”
His deep chuckle was like a wicked caress running over her bare skin. “True.” Eyes never leaving hers, he moved closer. Body heat and attraction filled the small space between them.
As he leaned in and reached back, his chest grazed her breasts. “What do you think?”
What did she think? If she sat on the table, they could reenact what happened in the storeroom. But they were talking about toolboxes. Weren’t they? She glanced over her shoulder.
His opened into multiple stacked shelves that cascaded down from the lid. Like hers, it was neatly organized. “Not bad.” She looked at him. With his lips hovering above hers, toolbox comparisons left her mind. Natalie closed the distance and pressed her lips to his. A kiss flavored with coffee and desire had her winding her arms around his neck.
He took hold of her hips and brought her close.
A long moment later, they broke a fraction apart.
He murmured against her lips. “If we keep doing this, the door’s not going up today. I have to be at work at three.”
“Or I could tackle doing the door myself.” She kissed away his frown. “But what would be the fun in that?”
“None whatsoever. We just need to focus and get it done.” But, like her, he seemed less interested in the door as he spread kisses down her cheek.
She tilted her head, giving him better access as he swept more kisses down her neck. “But…with both of our skills in play, I’m sure we can get the door up in no time. After we’ve had a nice long talk…about tools.”
“Tools, huh?” He nipped the side of her throat with his teeth, and goose bumps rose as he soothed the spot with his tongue. More goose bumps came up on her skin as he slid his hand under her shirt. “What do you want to know?”
Her breathing grew more uneven as his hand glided up to the curve of her breast.
Good thing he’d asked her an easy question that she could answer.
Natalie slid her hand down and cupped Rome’s erection. “I’m really interested in finding out all the ways you know how to use a drill.”
Chapter Eleven
Later in the afternoon, Rome walked down the back hallway of Club Escapade where the administrative offices were located. He checked the time on his phone. Surprisingly, instead of rolling into work late, he’d made it in twenty minutes early, but it was a shorter drive from Natalie’s house than from his condo.
Their plans for a quick, hard fuck had turned into something a bit longer. That skimpy top she’d worn had teased the hell out of him. Once he’d gotten her naked on the couch, he hadn’t been able to get enough of her. So much for keeping his priorities straight.
Luckily, he and Natalie had also clicked outside of the bedroom on the project of repairing the door. They’d worked together seamlessly, sawing, nailing, and gluing the frame pieces to the plywood. He’d held the finished door in place as she’d tightened the hinges. While he’d cleaned up and dressed for work in the clothes he’d brought with him, she’d finished putting on the lock. Now he just had to work on getting her a good security system for the house. Since he had a few minutes, he could talk to Xander about it.
She’d agreed to hear his recommendations for systems and potential companies that coming Tuesday night. She was even cooking him dinner. Would it lead to something else? He had a few more things to show her about his drilling technique.
A chuckle shot out of him. Hell, as a guy, if he had thrown out that lame ass line, it would have cost him his man card. But hearing her say it with that smile on her face and that mischievous look in her eyes had completely turned him on. Sexual compatibility and a body he couldn’t keep his hands off of weren’t the only things that attracted him to Natalie. He liked her sass and quick sense of humor. It not only felt right to help her out, but it also felt like a fair trade, because she was the first person in a long time who’d honestly made him laugh. It felt damn good to just relax and be around her.
As he walked down the hall, he passed closed office doors. The bar manager was already making rounds in the club. The bookkeeper was off for the weekend. As far as the owners, Shannon usually arrived around seven. Rafe lived in a studio apartment in the same building as Club Escapade and was always around. Xander was also at the club a good amount of the time, but, currently, he wasn’t in his office, either.
Rome went left at the end of the hall and out the service door that opened into the main part of the club, also known as Escapade East.
During the day, the space with two levels was the equivalent of a less flashy, boring sibling. Later that night, the thump of dance music would reverberate as the DJ played the hottest tracks for the crowd from a booth high up along the far wall. Strobe lights, music, and the energy of the crowd would transform the white walls and steel ceiling girders into a space that encouraged partiers to gravitate to the dance floor.
On the top level, servers would take care of patrons in the VIP booths while colorfully dressed go-go dancers on platforms high above the lower level would hype up the crowd below. Meanwhile, he and the other bartenders would serve glasses of cocktails, shots, and bottles of beer to customers sitting at tables and packed around the four neon-lit bars spread out along the walls.
On the other end of the now-silent space, Xander sat at a wood table, dressed in black jeans and a blue shirt with the club’s logo stitched on the upper left side. He looked over papers as he typed on a laptop.
Rome crossed the vacant dance floor to where the head of security was seated.
Xander was a former Ranger, and they’d gotten to know each other in Iraq during Rome’s first tour there ten years ago. Stateside, whenever they’d happened to run into each other, they’d gone out for drinks. When the incident in Costa Rica had landed him in the hospital, Xander had been one of the first people who’d called him. He also hadn’t hesitated in helping him out months later when he’d needed a job.
Xander glanced up from his laptop. “Rome.” The brown-skinned man’s deep, gravelly voice broke the silence.
“Hey. Got a minute?” Even though they had a history, Rome never assumed he had special access to Xander’s time. He respected him as one of the bosses.
“I got a good fifteen. Take a seat.” As Xander ran his hand over his close-cut hair, he sat back. “Good timing. I’d planned on catching you before your shift anyway.”
Rome laid his phone on the table. After turning the chair next to Xander in the opposite direction, he sat down. Out of habit, he stretched out his right leg, relieving the tension of bending his knee. “What’s up?”
Xander waved him off. “We’ll get to it. What did you want to talk about?”
“A friend of mine needs a good security system. Her house got robbed last night. Do you mind giving me the info on the company that set up the system here at the club?”
“Robbed, huh? That’s jacked up.” Xander picked up his phone from beside his laptop and scrolled through items on the screen. “Did the police catch who did it?”
“Nope. The fuckers stole mostly electronics. Maybe they’ll be stupid enough to try and pawn the stuff and give the police a lead.”
Xander released a derisive snort. “These days, a lot of thefts are drug-related. If whoever stole the stuff is hard up enough for a fix, they’ll sell that shit right on the street for less than a twenty.” He tapped the screen of his phone. “Found it. You ready for the number?”
Rome picked his cell up from the table and added the info to his contacts. “Thanks.”
“I know the rep for the company well. Tell him I referred you, and he’ll hook you up with a discount. Does helping with this alarm system mean you’re thinking about getting back into some aspect of security work again?”
“No. I’m just helping out a friend. Hey, what did you want to talk to me about?”
“It’s
actually kind of related to my question.” Xander sorted through his papers and removed a business card paper clipped to one of them. “A guy I served with provides crisis and survival training, mainly for company employees and executives. He’s looking for good people.” Xander slid the card to Rome. “I told him about your skillset. He’d like for you to give him a call.”
Crisis and survival training were in the same league as protection and security, the career he’d left and no longer wanted a part of.
Rome slid it back. “I appreciate it, but I’m happy here. Unless this is your way of telling me I’m fired?”
“Come on, man. Just take the card. You and I both know this bartending gig isn’t permanent. You’re already dipping back into security by helping your friend with this alarm system. Just call this guy and hear what he has to say. That’s all.” Xander offered up a careless shrug. “If after listening to him, you don’t like what he’s offering, it’s all good. Break contact and tear up the card.”
If he did leave bartending, he wouldn’t return to anything linked to protecting people. But out of respect for their friendship and history, Rome picked up the card.
Two barbacks wheeled racks of glasses through the service entrance into the main club.
Rome stood and turned the chair back around before sliding it under the table. “Time to get to work. Thanks for the info.”
“No problem.” Xander leaned back over his computer. “By the way, the security cameras that company uses are top of the line. In fact, we just had some installed in the storage areas the beginning of last week.”
As Rome read the meaning behind Xander’s direct gaze, a sinking feeling forced out a harsh breath. Fuck. Xander had viewed the footage of him and Natalie in the storage room. “Who else has seen it?”
“Just me.” Xander chuckled and lowered his voice. “Not that anyone else would want to see the footage. It’s mainly a shot of your bare ass. Don’t worry. I deleted it.” His expression spelled out the rest of what he wasn’t saying to him—don’t do that stupid shit again.
Message received. Rome tipped his chin up in acknowledgement. “Appreciate it.”
At his assigned bar, Rome tossed the business card on the back counter.
During the time he and Natalie were in the storeroom, he’d been so caught up in her, he hadn’t even considered the possibility of security cameras. But he should have noticed.
Irritation flared inside of him as he grabbed a bar napkin from the counter and a pen near the register. Situational awareness. How many times had he drilled that into the soldiers he’d trained, the specialists on his protection detail, or the executives he’d protected? And Xander thought he was up to security work? Memories from the past that Rome couldn’t stop flooded in. Not paying attention in Costa Rica had not only injured him, but also cost lives.
“Two weeks. It’ll be a walk in the park for you…”
That’s what his superiors at Eagle Reliant Security had told him. They’d wanted him to take over as team leader of an executive protection detail in Central America. The lead who’d been in charge of it had returned to the States due to a family emergency.
He’d hesitated. After just returning from Africa, where he and his own handpicked team had prevented the kidnapping of a physician working for a relief organization, he’d needed some down time. The job had taken days longer than anticipated because the physician, who was also the daughter of a wealthy American financier, hadn’t appreciated being smuggled out of the country, despite the threat.
But his superiors had insisted, claiming watching over Austin Lattimore in Costa Rica would be a welcome change of pace. An easy assignment.
Rome wrestled with more of his memories, trying to shove them back into the dark hole they’d crawled out of so he could finish jotting down the bar inventory. But they persisted, emerging so strongly it was if he could once again feel the humidity and heat of Costa Rica clinging to his skin.
That assignment had been trouble from the start—the tension between Lattimore and Lattimore’s girlfriend, Bianca, who’d recently arrived for a visit, as well as three brand-new security specialists who hadn’t quite jelled as a team. It had taken all of his patience and knowledge as a leader to keep things on track.
His instincts had also remained on super high alert the entire time, and he hadn’t been able to figure out why. His constant checking and rechecking of procedures, while also taking extra precautions, was viewed as a nuisance by Lattimore and Bianca. The CEO of Eagle Reliant, who was also good friends with Lattimore, had called personally and told him to back off. He shouldn’t have. The explosion happened just two days before he and the rest of the protection detail, along with Lattimore and Bianca, were scheduled to leave.
A barback dropping a glass snapped Rome back to the present. As he walked to the digital register at the end of the counter, a hollow ache widened in his chest.
He couldn’t remember all of the details from that day, especially when it happened. Xander had connections in the security sector and undoubtedly knew every last bullet point of the incident report—one he’d never read—outlining how he’d failed. Why would Xander think a position providing crisis and survival training to executives would interest him, especially since on his last job, he’d lost a client?
Rome snatched the card from the bar counter and tossed it in the trash.
Chapter Twelve
Natalie sat at the head of the rectangular table, presiding over the final Monday meeting of the day with her team in the glass-enclosed second-floor conference room. A slight air-conditioned office chill penetrated her gray blouse. Her fourth cup of coffee of the day warmed her, but she didn’t need the caffeine to feel energized.
Although more than a year had passed since she’d been promoted to an account director and put in charge of her own team, the thrill of it hadn’t dimmed.
Crawford Advertising’s bold and unconventional approach to the industry spoke to her. Everything, from the design of their modern, open-floor-plan offices in Los Angeles, New York, Chicago, and the satellite location where she worked in Alexandria, to their unique approach of using collaborative creative teams to handle client campaigns, was about innovation and maintaining a competitive edge.
She thrived on it.
As she leaned back in the orange padded chair, she said, “Okay, let’s move on and talk about the Sun Ray campaign.”
Sun Ray, their newest client, had built their business on selling practical desk blotter calendars. Now they were making the leap into the personal productivity market with a new line of planners and journals. The company’s product launch had sunk like a rock in the wide ocean of companies already established in the market. That’s why they’d tapped into Crawford’s expertise as troubleshooters, able to create advertising campaigns that succeeded where others had failed.
Olivia, the team’s auburn-haired art specialist, sitting to her right, took over the screen share function first. She took her time, tapping the screen of her tablet to bring up information to appear on the viewer at the front of the room. Since she was always calm, even in the midst of chaos, “serenity” should have been her first, middle, and last names.
“We’re making progress.” Olivia slowly swiped through images of the colorful productivity journals staged on a white surface. “The photographer just sent these over from the product shoot last week.”
“Not bad.” Jack, their design specialist, sitting opposite Olivia, pushed his glasses up his thin nose and peered at the images.
The brown-haired, balding man had just become the father of twin girls two weeks ago, and based on the shadows under his eyes, he wasn’t getting much sleep. But his sharp eye for overall design and continuity hadn’t slacked off a bit.
He leaned in. “Clean, bright, crisp. Other than needing to bump up the color saturation, I’m pleased.” He looked to Ned, the team’s content expert, pop culture aficionado, and Michael B. Jordan look-a-like. “What do you think?”
Forty-five minutes later, Natalie drained her coffee cup. “We’re ahead of schedule, but I still want mock-ups done by the end of next week. Make sure we tighten up the areas we’ve discussed so we can really wow the executives at Sun Ray when we give them our next update.” She smiled at her team. “Good job, everyone.”
Jack, Olivia, and Ned were in high spirits as they gathered up their things and left Natalie in the conference room.
She closed her computer. Out of habit, she glanced at her phone. Two reminders had popped up. Call the insurance company. Dinner Tuesday.
It was only three days since the robbery, but she’d already resigned herself into accepting she wouldn’t get her stuff back. Or that the thieves might not be caught. According to the police, her neighbors had noticed a van with a furniture company logo that turned out to be for a bogus business parked in front of her house earlier that night. They’d assumed she was having something delivered.
The detective who had followed up with her had reiterated that a security system should become her main priority, and it was. Rome had a few ideas he’d wanted to share with her. She’d agreed to make dinner tomorrow night and hear his recommendations. It was also the perfect opportunity to do something for him as a thank-you for all of his help.
And the perfect chance to get him back in bed?
Images of Rome kissing her, caressing her, gliding into her pooled heat in Natalie’s middle. But as good as it was, it was time to walk away from him in her bedroom.
Like she’d told Alexa, she wasn’t interested in a serious relationship, and she didn’t have the bandwidth in her life for a time-consuming fling. Her team also needed her at the top of her game.
The fabric of Natalie’s charcoal slacks swished as she drifted to the wall of glass overlooking the bottom level of the loft office.