by Lori Foster
Or...did they feel the same way, too? Did they humor her in person while resenting her the rest of the time?
Disliking that possibility, she paused near her desk and, doing her best to keep the frown off her face, said, “A lateral move, actually.”
“Uh-huh. Did Scott tell you that?”
Scott had told her to quit harassing the clients—but she didn’t feel like sharing that part. Although, seeing Brand’s expression, she’d bet he already assumed as much. He seemed to know her too well.
Better than anyone else, in fact.
“Scott told me he wanted me to experience every facet of the business.”
“But you were never a bodyguard.”
She took pleasure in saying, “Yes, I was.”
Now Brand frowned, and she loved how intimidating he looked. He’d make an ideal bodyguard if only he’d realize it.
“Bullshit.”
She tsked at the crude language, her idea of a reprimand. “Scott taught me to shoot. I’m actually pretty good at it.”
“I’ve never seen you practice.”
“Here, with my employees? Of course not.” She had to maintain some mystique. “Scott owned his own range elsewhere and now it’s mine.”
“Where?”
She smiled. “It’s private.”
He countered with “Protecting a client isn’t always about shooting.”
“No, it’s mostly about intelligent decisions, good planning and quick thinking.” She let her gaze dip over him. “It’s one reason I thought you would do so well at the job.”
“Me, yes. But you?” His long strong fingers circled her upper arm. “You’re brilliant, Sahara, so no problem there.”
The assurance that he didn’t consider her stupid would have been nice, except that the moment he’d touched her, her thinking faltered. So did her breathing. And her heartbeat.
“I’ve never known anyone with a quicker mind than you,” he went on. “But when it comes to strength?” He lightly caressed her arm. “Physical strength, I mean. Does a woman like you, a woman who’s always manicured and polished, have any?”
Just that simple touch, his warm fingers brushing over her bare skin, on her arm, and her priorities got all mixed-up.
At five-eight, she wasn’t exactly petite, but Brand still stood half a foot taller, and next to his chiseled bulk, she felt downright dainty.
Oh, this wouldn’t do. Sahara cleared her throat and made herself stare up into his eyes. “Brute strength? I’m definitely lacking.”
“Didn’t say you were lacking. In fact, I’d say you’re just about perfect, but not strong enough to tangle with someone intent on causing harm.”
“When someone is smart enough and quick enough, there is no tangling.” She gave him her best smug smile and pretended her knees weren’t weak. “I worked for three different clients. One job was glorified babysitting for a three-year-old while authorities tried to find a failed kidnapper.”
Brand’s expression softened to real concern. “The child—”
“She was okay. Her father, Mr. Drayden, chased off the masked man before he got away with her.”
“Thank God.”
Sahara agreed. “Drayden wouldn’t rest until he knew who the man was and why he’d tried to kidnap his daughter, and was assured he’d remain behind bars.”
“Did they ever get the guy?”
Sahara wanted to turn away, but that would be too revealing. “Yes. I shot him.”
After the briefest pause, Brand clasped her other arm, too. “Tell me what happened.”
“The sick bastard wouldn’t give up. In his second attempt, he crawled in her bedroom window. He...had a knife. So I killed him.” More brisk now, she explained, “He’d helped install the security system so he knew exactly how to shut it down. He claimed the girl was his, that he’d slept with Drayden’s wife. She denied it of course, and to his credit, Drayden believed her. That turned out to be a good thing because they found out the psycho had made the same claim about three other children. Apparently he fixated on kids and convinced himself they were his even though he’d never touched their mothers.”
“Damn.”
His hold was soothing, but the last thing she wanted from him, from anyone, was pity. “The little girl, Mari, screamed from the gunshot, but she never saw the body. Soon as the guy hit the ground I scooped her up and got her out of the room, telling her it was just a loud noise.” Sahara could still remember the thin arms clinging so tightly to her neck, the shaking of that small body and the soft sobs after the scream.
Until that day, she’d never thought about having children of her own. She missed Mari a lot.
“How long were you on assignment with the family?”
“Two months. But the time flew by since I mostly played with Mari.” She twisted her mouth. “Afternoon tea with a G.I. Joe, a stuffed bear and a Barbie. Oh, the scrapes Barbie and Joe got into. The bear and I would just watch in amazement.”
Brand grinned. “You know, I can almost picture it, you in a tiny little chair sipping out of an empty plastic teacup with an audience of toys.”
“Good times,” she said, then tipped her head. “Can you see me killing a man?”
After briefly locking on her eyes, his gaze moved over her face and settled on her mouth. “Yeah, I guess I can. If it came to protecting someone you cared about.”
Well, that was something anyway. “I had a shorter assignment with a twenty-three-year-old. I was only a year older than him and he had some serious misconceptions about the role of a bodyguard.”
“How so?”
“I spent more time fending him off than protecting him. He got impossibly grabby.”
Brand went back to scowling. “Your brother allowed that?”
“I didn’t tell him! That would have been like admitting I couldn’t handle the job, and it was an important one. He was a movie star’s son being hassled by a radical group that opposed the star’s last movie. Apparently, they didn’t understand fiction versus reality. They wanted to drive home their point by making his son miserable anytime he ventured into public. You’ll understand that it was all confidential so I can’t give names or details.”
“Sure. Tell me the part where you knocked the punk out.”
She grinned. “We’ve already surmised that I’m not physically powerful.”
He agreed by saying, “You should have quit.”
“I couldn’t. Scott chose me for the job because I was close enough in age to blend in. The boy didn’t want his friends to know he had a bodyguard. Guess it dented his macho pride or something.”
“First, he’s not a boy. At twenty-three, he’s a man. And second, I hope you dented the hell out of his pride.”
That was one of the nice things about Brand: he had a similar mindset to her and they often agreed on things. “Of course I did. We were at a club with his friends. He kept trying to force me to dance with him. I knew where that would lead with the octopus, so I refused. I could keep an eye on him from the bar, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He grabbed my wrist and wouldn’t let go.”
Expression darkening more by the moment, Brand asked, “What did you do?”
“I tripped him to the ground. That made him mad and he grabbed for me again.”
“To do what?”
She shrugged. “I didn’t want to find out, so I grabbed two fingers and twisted enough to break them.”
“Ouch,” Brand said with smiling satisfaction.
“He raged and decided it was time for us to go—with my wholehearted agreement. I had visions of the whole assignment going to hell, but it took an uptick when we stepped outside and the same group I was supposed to protect him from was there to mob him. That got him moving quickly to get in the car. On the way, I had to...ahem, assault a man who tried to drag my client ba
ck out of the car.”
“Assault him how?”
“With my knee.” She struck a pose, showing the knee she’d used and drawing Brand’s undivided attention to her exposed leg. “In a place where no man wants to get hit.”
Dragging his focus back to her face, Brand winced for real. “I gather that worked?”
“Like a charm.” At least that night she hadn’t shot anyone. “When Scott heard the whole story, he tore into the client and his father, and got me a bonus with an apology from the boy.”
“Man.”
“Man-boy,” she compromised. “The third assignment was just a matter of escorting a local politician to and from a speech. It went off without incident.”
“How come you never mentioned any of this before now?”
“Why would I?” She rarely discussed her background with anyone, because those stories all centered around her missing brother and left her grieving the loss anew. “My history with the agency has nothing to do with the reasons why you should sign on.”
He turned speculative. “And you’ve been all about getting my agreement.”
“Yes.” She gave that a quick thought and asked, “Does knowing my history make you more inclined to—”
“Not really.” Gaze intense, Brand slid his hands up her arms to her shoulders. “You’ve always amazed me, with or without the history report.”
As he leaned closer—to kiss her, she was sure—she said desperately, “Work for me.”
Without a smidge of regret, he said, “No,” and then his mouth was on hers, his lips pressing, his tongue touching until she opened.
The second she did, his tongue slid in and she melted against him.
God help her, it was incendiary.
* * *
FROM THE DAY he’d met her, Brand knew it’d be like this. Sahara Silver with her classic bone structure, her sharp wit, her beautiful blue eyes and slender body, was almost too stunning.
He meant to keep his hands on safe ground, but then, he hadn’t meant to kiss her either. Without really thinking about it, his palms slid over her shoulders and down her back, feeling the soft cashmere of her short-sleeved sweater, the firm resiliency of her flesh beneath.
She had expensive taste in fashion and always looked like a million bucks. She loved sugary pastry, but far as he could tell, she never gained a pound. No matter the company she kept, be it fighters, senators or twisted criminals, she was always comfortable.
She had no problem pampering herself, and no problem taking charge of any situation.
She tasted good, and felt even better.
But kissing her was a dumb move because Sahara wasn’t for him.
She wanted him, yes—to work for her.
She’d chased him—to get his agreement. For her, the hard-core campaign to win him over hadn’t been personal.
He couldn’t question her participation in the kiss, especially with her hands locked in his hair keeping him close, but when it came down to it she would always choose her brother’s memory, and thus the agency, first.
The sexual attraction was secondary for her, and that made it not enough for him.
If his friends Leese, Justice and Miles didn’t work for her maybe he’d take what he wanted before walking away. But that could end up complicating things for the guys who had left fighting for Body Armor, and he couldn’t do that to them.
Sahara pressed closer, her breasts to his chest, her belly to his dick, and logic nearly flew the coop.
He lowered his hands to her perfectly shaped ass, toned from the sky-high heels she favored—heels that made her long legs look even more amazing. Scooping her closer, he rubbed her against him, then stifled a groan.
Two seconds more and he’d be hard.
Ending the kiss wasn’t easy, not with her tongue dueling with his and all those soft, sexy sounds escaping her. He gentled her, slowed her down and finally freed his mouth. Hoping to make it less abrupt, he kissed a trail over her stubborn jaw to that sensitive spot just beneath her ear.
Subtle perfume vied with the natural scent of her fragrant skin.
She tipped back her head.
Unable to ignore that invitation, he teased damp kisses along her throat before drawing her head to his shoulder. He returned his hands to her upper back, moving up and down to soothe her.
Against her temple he said, “I’m sorry, Sahara. I shouldn’t have started that.” But he wasn’t sure anything could have stopped him from tasting her. “This isn’t the time or place to get carried away.”
Awareness drew her back and she stared at him in shock, her blue eyes wide and vague, her lips—now slightly swollen—parted.
Brand smoothed a tendril of thick, light brown hair that had escaped her pins. “You okay?”
That got her stepping quickly away. “Yes, of course.” She brushed her palms against the tight material of her skirt over her thighs. “It was only a kiss.”
For some reason, it annoyed him that she downplayed the impact. “A kiss that had you crawling all over me, and you damn near yanked out my hair.”
Her eyes widened even more...and then she laughed. “We did get a little carried away.”
“A little,” he agreed, still nettled. Could she really be less affected than he was? Or was she hiding behind her usual cool persona?
“I’m fine.” She reached up to remove his sunglasses, then stroked her fingers through his hair. “But did I hurt you?”
Her touch ignited him all over again. Dangerous. He’d known that about her within minutes of their first introduction. Catching her wrists, he lowered her hands—but then couldn’t let go.
And she didn’t pull away. After a long look, she said, “We could...discuss this more tonight.”
Hell of a suggestion, but he’d damn near lost it in her office with Enoch just outside the door. If he had her alone, no way in hell would he be able to keep his hands off her. So he shook his head and explained, “I’m meeting the guys at a bar tonight.”
One slender brow arched up. “My guys?”
Did she think she owned them? “If you mean Leese, Justice and Miles, yeah, they’ll be there, but arriving at different times. I think Leese is between assignments, right? And both Miles and Justice should finish up for the day in time to join us.”
“Us?”
“A half-dozen other fighters, some of their wives. You’ve met most of them.”
She nodded. “Will you be going to that quaint little hometown place, Rowdy’s?”
Damn it, did she plan to crash the party? Actually, how the hell did she know about Rowdy’s? He thought about asking her, but decided he’d be better off getting out of there. “That’s the plan, yeah.”
She waited, but when he said nothing more, she briefly looked wounded before giving him a cool smile. “Have fun then.” She went back behind her desk and turned on the monitor to her PC in clear dismissal. “Do let me know if you change your mind.”
“I won’t.” But he didn’t like being dismissed. “My sunglasses?”
As if she forgot she held them, she looked at her hand in surprise. “Oh sorry.” Nonchalant, she leaned forward, offering them to him without getting up, her attention still on the monitor.
Proving he had a perverse streak a mile wide, Brand let his fingers slowly graze hers as he took the glasses.
Her startled gaze flew to his face, but she only grinned, once again in full control. “Wicked, that’s what you are.” She fluttered her fingers at him. “Thanks for stopping by.”
And she went back to staring at the screen.
Left with nothing else to do, Brand walked out. That meeting hadn’t gone as planned, but then nothing with Sahara ever did.
He knew he’d done the right thing.
So then why did it feel like he’d been kicked in the chest?
CHAPTER TWO
SHE WOULD NOT feel dejected, Sahara promised herself as she walked through the lobby toward the parking garage exit. Her heels clicked on the marble tiles and she smiled automatically at every friendly face she saw.
Anita, the lobby receptionist, stood to ask, “Done for the day, Ms. Silver?”
“I am, yes.” She liked Anita, so she stopped to ask, “How’s the weather out there? Still raining?”
“Storming, unfortunately. Do you need an umbrella?”
“I’ll go from the garage here to my garage at home, but thank you. What about you?”
“I’ll make a mad dash into my apartment, but I have a raincoat with me.”
“So you’re not worried about melting either?”
She laughed. “I like rain, actually. Always have.”
“Same here. A good storm leaves everything fresh.” Sahara buttoned up her lightweight coat and pulled up the collar. “Be careful driving then.”
“You, too, Ms. Silver.”
She waved as she stepped away.
Other employees spoke to her, all of them friendly and familiar but still respectful. For her, Body Armor was a business with a family vibe. After all, she’d practically grown up here. Being sixteen years older than her, Scott had taken over raising her while their parents traveled the world. She’d always known she was an unpleasant surprise for them, but she’d never doubted Scott’s love.
The agency was all she had left of him and being here, surrounded by people he’d hired, protocols he’d put into place, contacts he’d built, made her feel closer to him.
Brand was a distraction, the first to consume her since she’d taken over the agency, and that scared her a little. She had to shake it off. She was not a woman to brood.
So he’d kissed her senseless, then made it clear that he didn’t want her to join him for the evening. Men were fickle. She’d been dealing with them long enough that it shouldn’t have bothered her.
But...she’d thought her men, all of them, liked her as more than a boss. They had an easy camaraderie. She’d spent time with them outside of work and they’d never seemed to mind. She liked to think she’d been helpful when it came to various problems they’d encountered.