Didn’t she?
She sat up, and he let his hands fall to the chair’s armrest. “Sorry.”
“Happy to be here for you.”
“It’s been a long day,” she offered, searching for some common ground. “Did you pull a photographer out of the ocean who’d used a faulty bungee cord to lash himself to the side of a speedboat in an effort to get an exclusive shot of Holly Addison in her wedding bikini?”
“Ah, no.”
“Then I win the crappy day prize.”
“I guess you do.” She angled her head. “Wedding bikini?”
“White, obviously. With a lace and crystal train attached to the back like a fish tail. Or maybe a fish veil. Custom-made by some Paris designer, who apparently failed to notice the fabric became transparent when it got wet.”
“So other than drowning paparazzi, you watched over a bunch of scantily clad starlets all day. ’Scuse me, but that doesn’t sound so bad—at least from your point of view.”
For the first time since she’d met him, his lips broke into a broad smile. “There are some excellent plastic surgeons and personal trainers in Beverly Hills, and their specialty seems to be boobs and butts.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I saw you spying from the beach. Hot blue bikini. You spend some time at the gym yourself.”
“With my proximity to rich food, regular exercise is pretty much a necessity.” And how nice he’d noticed. Especially surrounded by those perfect Hollywood chicks. Maybe he— “Hold on, how did you see me? I never saw you.”
“Binoculars.”
“That’s a bit…unnerving.”
“A tool necessary for the job. Kind of like your need for a whisk.”
“Funny, I don’t see the correlation at all. If you want to see me in my bikini, you might try asking.” She narrowed her eyes. “Kind of like entering my room.”
“Okay. But catching you in the binocular sights was an accident the first time.” He scooped a stack of folded papers off the desk. “And I only came by to bring you this. As you’ll see, it’s not something I’m comfortable handing over in public. I was writing you a note when you came in.”
Looking down at the paper, she noticed the bold scrawl of the words Tara, I thought you might… But as she started to flip open the stack, she recalled a particularly interesting part of his confession. “The first time?”
His gray eyes gleamed. “I liked looking at you. I kept coming back.”
Her whole body went hot. “Did you? What about all those nosy reporters lurking around? Didn’t you want to keep an eye on them?”
“Except for bungee cord guy, they went with helicopters—nice call on that, by the way.”
“I’ve catered for celebrities, rich folks, demanding crazy people and the political elite. I’ve seen some strange stuff in the name of party crashing.”
“Which is why you knew what to do this weekend.”
“Apparently I don’t.” She dropped the stack of paper in her lap, then covered his hands with hers and leaned closer. “I keep getting caught.”
“Understandable. I’m pursuing you pretty hard.”
“Are you?”
His gaze roved her face, then focused on her lips. “It’s a little hard to keep my balance, but yeah.”
She understood his meaning. They had obligations to their jobs that weren’t meshing with their desire for each other. Like dieters licking chocolate off their fingers, they couldn’t seem to find the willpower to say no.
When he brought one hand up to cup her cheek, she melted into him like a gooey treat. She gave herself over to a kiss that was more tender than she’d expected, more needy than simple stress relief. He explored her mouth as if he planned to spend all day doing so.
The faint scent of coconut-laden sunscreen as well as sea air wafted from his skin, enveloping her in a forbidden island fantasy and exotic sensations. His arms, though banded around her like steel, held her with exquisite care.
She had no idea what they were doing, plastered together like magnets. But she knew she was glad he’d come, and she didn’t want to let him go.
Parting, she let her forehead rest against his. “This is crazy.”
“Then sign me up for the loony bin.”
“Done.” Smiling, she pressed another kiss to his lips. “I guess you have to go back to work.” A fact she regretted more than she expected.
He lifted the stack of paper he’d brought. “See for yourself.”
Straightening, she unfolded the packet. Her shocked gaze jumped to his. “This is the wedding events schedule.”
“It is.”
Her heart pounded as hard as when he’d kissed her the first time. “Why?”
“You got the shaft with the catering. I stand for truth and justice and all that jazz. At least I used to.”
“Truth and justice and all that jazz?”
“It’s supposed to mean something—not only for the rich and famous, but everybody. And especially you, particularly when I have something to say about it.”
His concern warmed her heart. He’d built a bridge between their opposing sides, and she was more interested than ever in finding out where their paths might meet.
She noted both a rehearsal dinner for family and the wedding party and a nightclub party for everybody else were taking place during the next few hours. The air leaked from the balloon of hope of satisfying her desire. “It looks like you’re going to be busy tonight.”
“I could bring up leftovers from the dinner.”
“Is this a meal Carla’s cooking?”
“Based on the resentful kitchen staff, I’d say so.”
“Then no, thanks. But I could call room service—the resentful kitchen staff does know a culinary thing or two. Maybe we could have a late dinner?”
“I’ll bring the wine,” he agreed immediately.
With a seemingly effortless move, he rose from the chair with her in his arms. She could really get used to this.
At the door, he set her down, then pressed his lips briefly to hers. “I’ll see you around nine—after the dinner and before things get out of control at the nightclub. Then I’ll help you find Maynard Sr. He’s really the only one who can answer your questions about losing the wedding contract.”
“Okay.” Her heart resumed its excited pounding. The possibility of having a heart-to-heart with a billionaire who might become a future client wasn’t the only cause. After all, all work and no play made for a cranky—if financially solvent—caterer.
Wade paused with his hand on the door. “Oh, and something squirrelly’s going on with that Carla chick.”
Spoken like a true Texan. “She got her cooking lessons from the Academy of Tasteless Hoes?”
He grinned, and she wondered how she’d ever had a hard time picturing a smile on his face. “Probably. And her financials are way off base for a caterer.”
“How do you know anything about her financial status?”
He simply raised his eyebrows.
“Right. You have access to information I don’t.”
“I’ve got a hunch.”
“What—”
He held up his hand. “Let me see where it goes. I have to deal with this rehearsal dinner, then we’ll talk.”
“Just talk?”
He brushed his lips across her cheek. “And eat. Don’t forget room service.”
6
WADE LISTENED TO THE maid of honor droning on with her postdinner toast to the bride and resisted the urge to check his watch.
Again.
Was the woman going for some kind of record? Where was the loud and impatient orchestra, playing her offstage before she’d started listing the reasons Holly Addison had played a critical role in the life of her Jack Russell terrier?
I’ve got a hot woman and a hot meal waiting for me upstairs. Lift the damn glass already!
As was expected by his role in this little drama, though, he exposed none of these thoughts. He scanned the room
for anybody who didn’t belong. He made note of Paul’s intent watchfulness at the door separating the rehearsal dinner party from the rest of the restaurant. After yesterday’s lack of attention, and Wade’s threat to send his ass home without his full paycheck, he’d obviously decided to take his job more seriously.
He saw Tara’s competition, Carla Castalono, watching the proceedings from the back corner of the room, a smug smile on her face. As far as he could tell, she hadn’t lifted a finger to help either her staff or the resort’s pull off the multicourse dinner. Instead, she’d chosen to fawn over the bride and groom, keeping their wine and champagne glasses filled.
Based on the guests’ reaction to the bland-looking meal, he imagined the booze was appreciated.
A prickle at the back of his neck reminded him of his suspicion that something was off at Posh Events.
And it wasn’t only the lousy food.
Finally, finally, the maid of honor lifted her fluted glass, and the toast was done. She then tossed back the contents and ended the ordeal with a blessedly brief and enthusiastic, “Let’s party!”
Keeping an outward calm but inwardly jumping for joy, Wade spoke to Marco, his second-in-command, gave Paul a warning glare, then slid from the room. His lieutenants could handle a couple of hours on their own.
He fought the urge to run straight to the elevator and instead dived into the hotel gift shop for wine, flowers and condoms. You have to think positive to get positive results, his coach at UT used to preach. A much sager—and shorter—toast to a successful life than the one he’d just heard.
When he arrived at Tara’s door, he used every ounce of crisis-management training and experience he possessed to calm his pulse and remind himself that he’d come a long way since he’d gotten his first girl in the back of his Chevy.
Which did him no good when Tara opened the door and faced him wearing a white halter-top sundress and a sultry smile of welcome.
Balancing the wine and flowers in one arm, he wrapped the other around her waist and backed her into the room. She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him toward the bed. They fell on their sides onto the comforter, her leg wrapped around his hip.
The flowers and wine bottle tumbled, forgotten, to the floor.
He slid his hands down her back and cupped her butt, pressing her center against his erection. The contact felt so good, so delightfully torturous, he groaned.
She responded by shoving off his jacket, then ripping open his shirt, which got stuck on his shoulder holster. But with a few shrugs and a released fastener, she was quickly gliding her hands over his skin. “You’re on fire. You’re probably sunburned.”
“Just hot.”
Her gaze roved his face, then his bare chest. “You are indeed.”
Smiling, he moved his mouth down the silky curve of her throat and untied the halter. She wore nothing beneath, and he took almost no time to flick his tongue across her distended nipple.
She arched her back, pressing herself into him, silently asking for more.
He’d have given her the planet, the stars and moon in that moment. With only the faint bedside light casting a glow, she looked like a spirit from another world, her delicate curves calling to his instincts, sending him spiraling into the whirlpool of desire.
He pushed the dress and her satin white panties down her hips and off the end of the bed while she unbuttoned his pants. When her hand wrapped confidently around his erection, he thought he stopped breathing.
When she slid her hand down, then up again, he knew he had.
Gritting his teeth against exploding, he slid his fingers between her legs. The wet heat spiked his lust, but the breathless, lingering kiss she placed at the base of his throat reminded him that his needs weren’t his first priority.
He stroked her, parting her soft flesh and finding the button that would drive her to the edge with him.
In response, she squeezed his erection.
“Back pocket,” he croaked.
She needed no further direction. Finding the condom, she tore the foil with her teeth and rolled on the protection. As he moved between her thighs, her eyes were glazed with hunger, but she moved her fingers across his cheek in a whisper touch as if savoring the moment just before they became one.
His heart jumped, and he realized in an instant that this wasn’t a weekend fling.
At least not for him.
Unable to deny the hunger any longer, he pressed inside her body, sighing with relief when he drove in fully. Her breathing became choppy. She dropped her hands and clutched the comforter as she drove her hips up to meet his.
She was through with tender strokes. She needed satisfaction. And now.
Rocking his hips, he set a rhythm of relief rather than seduction. Tenderness could follow, but now their bodies demanded release. She bowed her neck and back as she braced her palms against his chest and drove her hips up to meet his.
Her fingers danced in a tremble the instant before she came. Her inner walls squeezed him, and he let his own satisfaction soar. The pumps and waves of pleasure seemed to go on endlessly, and when it was reduced to intermittent quivers, he gathered her close and held her against his hammering heart, careful to collapse on his side and keep his weight off her.
For the first time since being forced to leave the Service, he felt a crazy flutter in his heart that might have been happiness.
THEY BROUGHT THE ROOM service tray into bed.
Tara had gone for a menu she knew would please a Texan, while including some local Caribbean specialties. The T-bone steak and a spicy conch chowder were the highlights.
As well as her feeding bites to a naked and appreciative Wade Cooper.
“Did you like playing football?” she asked.
“I liked being part of a team.”
Propped beside her against the headboard, his wide shoulders and muscled chest made her mouth water more than the food. And that was saying something because the resort staff knew how to make chowder. “And you liked the Secret Service for the same reason?”
“Yeah. Plus I liked making a difference. The work we did mattered. Now I’m just a hired gun. Who doesn’t even get to use his gun anymore.”
“What you’re doing now matters.” She shoved another bite of chowder into his mouth as he started to protest. “Forget it’s a Texas billionaire’s son and a Hollywood A-list actress. It’s Holly and J.D.’s wedding. The most important day of their lives. And you’re making it special.”
“Is that what you tell yourself when you cash the check from a particularly difficult client?”
“No. Then I say, ‘Please, don’t let this bounce.’ You saved that photographer today, remember? That’s pretty damn cool.”
Wade sipped from his wineglass. “It’s a dubious honor to save somebody that ambitiously stupid.”
“Maybe he has a wife and four kids in Oxnard to support. Don’t be such a cynic. Tomorrow’s spa day before the wedding. I think you should take an hour break for a relaxing massage.”
His gray eyes sparked with interest. “Are you the masseuse?”
The image of a candlelit room and her running her oiled hands over his muscled back flashed through her mind. “We could insert that activity into the schedule.”
“Provided I haven’t completely screwed up by leaving my crew on their own tonight.”
“They’re undoubtedly lost without their fearless leader. I should probably feel guilty.”
“But you don’t.”
“Nope.” She fed him another bite of chowder. “What was it like risking your life for the President?”
“Challenging.”
“Did you get to use your gun a lot then?”
“Sure. But then the stakes were a lot higher. I haven’t fired my weapon on the job in two years.”
“But that’s a good thing. You’re scaring away all the really bad bad guys before they have a chance to strike.”
“My most exciting project over the last year was on
a pop star’s concert tour.”
“Sounds pretty dangerous to me. Some of those superfans can get pretty crazy.”
Bafflement flooded his face. “Why are you determined to cast me in the role of hero?”
“If the cape fits…” She trailed the tip of her finger down his chest. “And I can personally testify that you’d look smokin’ hot in brightly colored spandex.”
After setting his glass on the nightstand, he slid his hand around the back of her head and pulled her close. “You do revolutionary things for a hotel robe. Though I think this particular one would look even better on the floor.”
Her heart rate picked up its pace. The impulse to toss aside responsibility and indulge herself in the best kind of pampering was close to irresistible. “I thought you had to go back to work.”
“I do, and I know you want to talk to Maynard.” He drew his thumb across her bottom lip. “But the party has to end sometime.”
“So after business…”
“Pleasure.”
In answer, she pressed her lips to his. They’d known each other barely twenty-four hours and yet she felt closer to him than any man she’d dated in the past several years. She admired his dedication—as well as his body—and understood his need for a constant challenge.
Was this thing with them a reaction to frustration with their careers? Once the weekend was behind them and the balmy breezes subsided, would their chemistry fade? Or even disappear altogether?
They dragged themselves from the intimate confines of the bed, then dressed, though she eventually had to retreat to the bathroom because he kept trying to remove everything she put on.
Walking from the room, they linked hands. Their connection was about to be suspended. Security chief versus party crasher.
She dreaded going back to opposite camps, even if only for appearances.
At the door, he turned and his gaze locked with hers. “I am a cynic. I’m going through the motions of my job because I don’t know anything else. And I’m pissed off I can’t do what I love anymore. But I’ve smiled more in the last twenty-four hours than I have in the last twenty-four months.” He pulled her close and added in a whisper, “Because of you.”
By Invitation Only Page 11