Best Man For The Job (The Men of Fear Incorporated Book 1)

by Melinda Valentine

  Bella smiled. “Didn’t I see you in the paper last week? The society page to boot.”

  “Yeah, I was keeping a watch on Yancy Bloodworth’s daughter, Zoë. It was her twenty-third birthday. Daddy didn’t want anyone getting too ‘handsy’ with his little princess.” He rolled his eyes.

  “As in Yancy Bloodworth, real estate mogul?” Sloane asked, filling her glass again. Mirabella gave her a sideways glance, making a point to look at her very full glass. Sloane just shrugged a shoulder at her.

  Max nodded. “I do security, among other things. He hired me to keep her safe.”

  “Mr. Bloodworth is an intimidating guy. He’s not very big physically, but there’s something about him that sets my teeth on edge.”

  Max’s eyebrows shot up. “You know him?” He seemed surprised. Sloane wasn’t sure why that bothered her.

  “I’m Detlef Marek’s personal assistant; they have dealings together and he often comes by the office.”

  The four of them made small talk until they finished dinner. Sloane helped Mirabella clear the table and get dessert. She took all the plates in first, returning to collect the wine glasses. Max handed over his, their fingertips touching briefly. His eyes locked with hers. She could feel the heat that colored her cheeks as she spun around, quickly retreating to the kitchen.

  “I’ll pour the coffee,” she muttered.

  “You all right, Sloane? You look flushed.” Bella smirked.

  “I’m fine. Must be the wine. Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “It could be the wine, or…It could be that fine example of a man out there.”

  “Max? I don’t even know him.”

  “But you want to.”

  “Shut up, Bella. Even if I did want to, I’m already seeing someone.”

  “Look, I mean this in the most loving way: You are a moron.”

  Sloane narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “Brody is a piece of shit if I ever met one, and you deserve a whole hell of a lot better.”

  Mirabella stood on the other side of the kitchen island with her hands on her hips, her expression daring Sloane to disagree. Mirabella was more than her cousin—she was her best friend. Denying Brody’s affairs would be pointless since Sloane had cried on Bella’s couch just last month and it hadn’t been the first time. She had a feeling he was up to his old tricks again, but she wasn’t going to admit that to Bella.

  “We’ve had our roadblocks, yeah.”

  “Roadblocks? That’s what you call finding him in bed with a stripper? A stripper, Sloane.”

  Sloane’s eyes burned; she couldn’t go down that road right now. It was too much. “I don’t want to talk about it tonight, Bella,” she whispered. “Please.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” She walked around the island and took Sloane in her arms. “It just pisses me off that he thinks he can do that to you.”

  “I know.” Her whispered words hung between them for a moment. Sloane knew that he thought he could do those things because she always forgave him. She also knew she should leave him, only she wasn’t strong enough to actually do it. She kept hoping he would change.

  “All right,” Bella said. “Grab some plates. I’ve got the pie.”

  ***

  Max

  Max looked up as the women came out of the kitchen. The smell of warm cherry pie filled the room. Biting into his slice, Max tried to keep his gaze from traveling over to Sloane. She was breathtaking. When she’d opened the front door, he’d thought he might have to pick up his lower jaw before he walked into the house. Her skin was ivory and looked softer than satin. He loved that she wasn’t artificially tanned like a lot of women he encountered in his line of work. Her honey-colored hair was loose, hanging halfway down her back. Max longed to fist his hands in it. The thought tightened his pants. Shit. He had to calm down. No way she wouldn’t notice if he had to stand anytime soon.

  Sloane’s phone rang. Smiling at the screen, she quickly excused herself and hurried into the kitchen. Foster shook his head, and Mirabella gave him a small, sad half smile. Sloane’s raised voice floated in from the kitchen. They all sat quietly, trying not to be obvious about the fact they were all trying to eavesdrop. Bella worried her bottom lip, stealing glances at Foster. Foster alternated his gaze between Bella and the kitchen door. They were failing miserably at it. Max watched them quietly, wondering what could be going on to cause the concerned expression on Bella’s face. Suddenly it all became clear.

  “Why not? You promised you wouldn’t miss tonight, Brody…Selfish? Me? …who is she this time? I know you’re fucking someone! I’m not stupid! …Whatever. Do what you want. You always do.”

  Sloane came out of the kitchen with a fresh bottle of red wine in one hand and a glass in the other. “Sorry about that, what did I miss?”

  She smiled, only this time it didn’t reach her expressive blue eyes. While Mirabella was completely put together even for an evening at home, her nails freshly painted and every hair in its proper place, Sloane was the opposite. Her polish was starting to chip, bangs that were slightly overgrown framed her face, and she wore a simple V-neck t-shirt with blue jeans. She was exactly what Max liked. She sat down, looking at Bella expectantly.

  “We were just discussing going to Velvet Ropes next weekend. Are you in?”

  Damn, Bella lied good. Max chuckled to himself. Velvet Ropes was the newest club to open its doors. The line to get in was always wrapped halfway around the building after eight at night, even on weekdays. Max had been there once for a job.

  Sloane smoothed her hair from her face. “Sure, why not. I doubt I’ll have plans.”

  “Max, you said you were in, right?” Mirabella smiled slyly.

  “How could I refuse after you made stew?”

  “You can’t.”

  The next thing Max knew it was almost midnight. Sloane’s bottle of red was as empty as her glass. The alcohol induced pink flush covering her cheeks made him smile to himself, even if the reason she drank that much didn’t. This was Brody’s “vanilla” girlfriend—the one he was cheating on, and apparently not for the first time.

  The three of them had settled in the living room after dinner, and he now sat in the recliner in the corner, watching Sloane stare into the fireplace. Mirabella and Foster held hands on the couch, whispering into each other’s ear. They occasionally glanced at Sloane, only to whisper some more. Sometimes giggling, but mostly they looked concerned.

  Max couldn’t take his eyes off her; she made his insides crawl. It was as though his skin was too tight for his body. He wanted to push her hair out of her eyes like he’d watched her do a dozen times tonight. He wanted to tell her Brody was a damn fool and didn’t deserve her. To take her lips with his. He wanted her. Plain and simple. But he’d just met her. How could he feel this strongly? It didn’t make any sense.

  Sloane stood up abruptly like she’d awakened from a trance. She staggered slightly, using the mantel to steady herself.

  “Thank you both for dinner,” she said. “It’s late; I better get going.”

  Bella shook her head. “Honey, stay here tonight. You’re in no condition to drive.”

  “I’m fine, really.” She stumbled, only to fling a hand out to balance against the wall.

  Max stood up. “I’ll take her home. I was going to head out myself.”

  “That’s all right, Max. You don’t have to,” Bella protested.

  Max walked over to Sloane and gently pried her keys from her fingers. Warmth spread from every place her fingers touched his. It radiated up his arm and throughout his body similar to an electric current from a live wire. She pulled her hand back quickly, her eyes widening. Max knew she felt it too. His eyes were drawn to her full lips, and her tongue darted across them, leaving them glistening. His body responded to such a simple act just as easily as if she’d rubbed herself against him. Yup, time to get outta here before Foster figured it out. He always could read Max like a book.

  “Don’t e
ven think about it,” Max said. “I’m driving, no arguments.”

  “Aren’t we bossy?” she mumbled under her breath.

  They said their goodbyes. Max hugged Mirabella, making sure to keep the lower half of his body pulled away from her. Last thing he needed was for her to know he was semi-erect. Foster raised an eyebrow and smirked. He gave Max’s shoulder a slap goodbye. Shit. He knew something was going on.

  Sloane trailed him out of the house to his pick-up truck parked on the street. He opened her door, making sure she was settled inside the cabin before closing it. Max walked around the front of the truck and slid in the driver’s seat.

  “Thank you,” Sloane murmured. “I don’t normally drink so much when I know I have to drive.”

  “Don’t mention it. There are worse things to do besides escorting a beautiful woman home.”

  Sloane gave him directions across town to her apartment building. He parked in the only empty spot he could find. Taking her hand, Max helped her out of the vehicle. He was reluctant to let her go, but he did. Not trusting his ability to keep his hands to himself, he shoved his hands in his pockets, and they walked toward the building side by side. The moon was full overhead, illuminating the parking lot. Once inside, she stopped in front of the elevators. She leaned against the wall after pushing the Up button.

  “I’m on the fifth floor. Apartment five-oh-four.” She reiterated the apartment number with her fingers, drawing it in the air with a giggle that sent a jolt down his spine.

  Shaking his head and trying to hide his own smile, he took her by the elbow to lead her inside the elevator car. Max pushed the button marked with a five. The doors closed and the car rose quickly. She slumped against the back wall of the car.

  Max imagined what she might taste like. He could easily fantasize stalking over to where she stood and pinning her to the wall as he claimed her lips. He stood there watching her until the doors reopened on her floor. After guiding her down the hallway, he stood outside her apartment door and waited for her to unlock it and enter before he left. She turned to him with the door partially open.

  “Thanks again, Max.”

  Her big blue eyes looked up at him from under those damn bangs. Without thinking what a gigantic mistake it was, Max gave in and slowly pushed her bangs away from her face. Those beautiful blues stole the small amount of resistance he had left. He slid his hand around the back of her neck, pulling her to him and claiming her lips. He slanted his mouth across hers, pulling a small moan from her. His tongue slipped past her lips and caressed hers. She tasted of cherries and red wine. Sloane pulled him even closer using his belt loops as handles, pressing her hips into him. His erect cock pressed into her tender belly. He was coming unglued. How could one kiss light him on fire like this?

  Sloane pulled back, gasping, when her phone started ringing. Her trembling fingers touched her kiss-swollen lips in…shock? Perhaps awe?

  “I should get that,” she panted. Every macho-infused cell in his body relished the knowledge that he made her do that. She was just as affected as he was.

  “Don’t,” he said sternly. Her eyes widened, but otherwise she didn’t move a muscle. Max closed the narrow space between them yet again. Sloane’s breath hitched before his lips crashed down on hers. He released her abruptly. “I better go.”

  Max kissed her forehead softly. Turning quickly, he made his way a few feet back to the elevator doors. He looked back while he waited for the steel doors to open.

  “And Sloane, next time you even think of driving home after drinking and I hear about it, there will be consequences.”

  Sloane still stood in the doorway of her apartment, her gaze glued to his. Her phone, temporarily forgotten in her hand, hung by her side. Did she know it was still ringing?

  Chapter Three

  Sloane

  Barely able to breathe, Sloane slipped inside and closed the door. She looked down at the phone that kept ringing in her hand. Brody. She so wasn’t in the mood to speak to him. Not only had he blown her off again, but after those scorching kisses from Max, there was no way she was in the right frame of mind to deal with him. Hitting the Ignore button, she quickly sent a text to Mirabella. She let her know that she had arrived home safely and would be by tomorrow to get her car.

  Without waiting for her reply, Sloane grabbed a t-shirt to sleep in. Once it was on, she smelled Brody. Eyeing herself in the mirror, the oversized t-shirt mocked her. No way was she wearing his shirt while Max invaded her every thought. She wondered what consequences he could be talking about. Her body involuntarily shivered. She pulled off the t-shirt and threw it into the hamper before she climbed into bed.

  The next morning came way too soon. Sloane needed a carafe of coffee and half a bottle of aspirin, at the very least. She fetched a clean t-shirt—one of her own—and a pair of yoga pants. She needed to go find deliverance from the polka band playing in her head. Ugh, why oh why did she drink so much last night?

  After making it slowly to the living room, she decided coffee was in order first. She veered to the left, entering her kitchen nook, and fumbled to set the coffee up. The smell teased her senses. A long gong tore her attention away from the little miracle machine percolating in front of her. She hurried to get to the front hall before the doorbell rang again. Too late—the sound pulled a groan from her and she covered her ears like a toddler. The clock on the microwave showed it was just after eight. Who could that be this early on a Sunday? Peeking through the peephole suspiciously, she almost started to drool. Standing on the other side of her door, looking like a god, was Max. She took a moment to appreciate him this way, rather than to gawk openly where he could see.

  His sunglasses were perched on top of his head. He still hadn’t shaved. Normally she went for the clean-cut, boy-next-door look, but for some reason the shaggy hair and stubble turned her insides into putty. His gaze landed right on the small glass circle she was looking out of. The corner of his lip pulled up into a small smirk. The sight caused her pulse to speed up.

  “I’m not leaving, so you might as well open the door, Sloane.”

  Oh. My. God! Sloane quickly backed away from the door. How did he…? Taking a deep cleansing breath, she reached forward, unlocked the door, and pulled it open. Max drank her in openly. Every place his eyes landed ignited as if he had actually touched her.

  “How did you know I was there?”

  “I could see your shadow under the door. I figured you were watching for me to give up and leave. Not likely.”

  “Oh. What are you doing here?”

  “I thought you could use a lift back to Foster’s to get your car. I was heading there anyway.”

  “Thank you for thinking of me. I still need to get dressed; I don’t want to hold you up.”

  “We have plenty of time. I can wait…that is, unless you take as long as Bella to get ready.” He laughed.

  “Good grief, no! I love her and all, but that girl makes getting ready look like an Olympic event. It’ll only take me about twenty minutes. Come on inside and make yourself comfortable.”

  Sloane opened the door wider to allow Max to enter her apartment. She tried not to sniff him. She really did.

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  She led him into the kitchen area where the smell of brewed coffee made her salivate.

  “Would you mind if I finished my coffee first, though? I don’t think it would be wise for anyone to be around me if I didn’t get my caffeine fix.”

  “Not at all.”

  “Thanks, would you like some?”

  “Sure. Just black, please.”

  Sloane filled another mug with coffee and placed it in front of Max. She stood on one side of the little kitchen island as he sat on a stool across from her. She watched him sip from his mug. She loved the way his large hand wrapped around it, instead of using the handle. He glanced around the room, taking in her apartment. No other men had been in her apartment other than Brody or Foster in ages, and she didn’t know what to say to
Max. Luckily he saved her from stumbling through an icebreaker.

  “Nice place. Lived here long?”

  “Almost five years.”

  “Have you worked for Detlef long?”

  “I’ve been his assistant for three years now. How about you—how long have you been a bodyguard?”

  Bodyguard. She devoured him with her eyes. His t-shirt hugged his shoulders and chest in the most delicious way. She wanted to see more of the tattoos that disappeared under his shirt. Her mind started to wander. He can guard my body whenever he wa—Oh God. Where had that thought come from? She shouldn’t be picturing him pressed up against her, but now all she could think about was him pinning her against the fridge, that stubbled jaw grazing against her neck…Heat crawled up her face. Hopefully Max didn’t notice. The way he was currently studying her however, there was no way he didn’t notice. He tried to hide a smirk. She was totally busted. Ugh.

  “I’m not really a bodyguard, per se. I do private securities. The actual tasks vary per client. I got into it last year after I left the force.”

  “That sounds exciting.” She didn’t know exactly what that meant. However, she bet he looked sexy as hell doing it.

  After a few more minutes of small talk, Sloane excused herself to take a very cold shower. She needed the distance to get herself under control. Never before had she wanted to run her hands over a man the way she wanted to with Max. Everything about him called to her. She had to continuously keep reminding herself what a bad idea it would be to run back out to wrap herself around him while licking every inch of his body. She stepped under the frigid spray and squealed. Holy shit was it cold.

  “Are you all right?”

  Max’s voice boomed from just outside the bathroom door. She shrieked, jumped, and lost her balance. She tried to regain her footing, but the slick shower floor had her scrambling to keep herself upright. Her effort, however, was in vain—she slipped and landed hard on her ass.

  It wouldn’t have been so bad if her elbow and head hadn’t also connected with the side and back of the tub. She groaned as she lay there. Both embarrassment and pride kept her from getting up immediately.