by Leah Braemel
“She’ll get upset?”
Sam snorted. “More likely she’ll get on a plane and come here to try to run the detail herself. She was a nurse with the Army-served in ’Nam for two tours-that’s where she met Pop. I swear she’s a mind reader because you can’t get away with anything when she’s around.”
The next picture was one of Mrs. Watson and a small boy with a full head of black curls. Before she could ask, Sam sneered. “Yeah, that’s me. And if you say how cute I was, I’ll kick you out.”
“I won’t.” But she wanted to.
He ran a hand over his stubble. “And don’t tell me you’d like me to grow it out because I’m tall enough as it is without lookin’ like someone parked a goddamned poodle on my head.”
Rosie couldn’t help but laugh as she moved along the mantel and picked up the next picture. Sam in leather pants and motorcycle jacket, standing by a black and chrome Harley, the Washington Monument in the background. It was the look of adoration on his face as he smiled at a curvy redhead wrapped up in his arms that had caught Rosie’s attention when she’d first seen the picture earlier that day.
“That’s Jill Hoskins.” A bleak look crossed his face as he turned his head to stare out the window. “She died two weeks after that picture was taken.”
Carefully setting the picture back on the mantel, Rosie murmured, “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. So am I,” he replied even quieter, one of his hands rubbing idly at his chest. After a moment, he hit the remote and unmuted the television, focusing on the scrimmage instead.
She waited until halftime before speaking again. “Has Chad told you about Troy loaning us one of his operatives to help out?”
“Yeah, Scott Phillips.” Sam’s scowl and something that sounded like it would be a particularly filthy curse in what might have been German. “If anyone should be on vacation, it’s Scott. Instead Troy sics him on me. Do him a favor-give him a pile of files to check out or something. Keep him busy, will ya? He sits around with nothin’ to do, he’ll drive himself crazy second-guessing himself.”
Without another word, he stalked from the kitchen and headed down the hall to his bedroom. Obviously she needed to take a look at Phillips’ file herself and find out why he deserved a vacation. A burnt out operative definitely wouldn’t help protect Sam.
Thirty minutes later, a rhythmic noise had her peeking around the door. Wearing only a pair of shorts, Sam was working out on a rowing machine. His shoulder muscles rippled and his thighs bulged as he hauled on the pulley. Rosie stood in the doorway, entranced by a bead of sweat as it rolled down his forehead and slid down his neck.
The play of his muscles as he worked out made her imagine his chest flexing as he positioned himself over her, his arms planted either side of her head. She’d dig her fingers into those broad shoulders, feel his strength as he held himself above her. When he drove into her, she’d wrap her legs about his, feel the power of his thighs flexing as he whipped her into an orgasmic frenzy.
He’s your boss, her conscience hissed. She fled to the safety of the living room, wondering if she was fleeing Sam, or the strength of her desire.
You’re just horny, she reminded herself. It’s been almost a year since you’ve been with a guy and now you’ve got the man of your dreams at your fingertips. You’ve been on a starvation diet and he’s a delicious hunk of cherry chocolate cheesecake.
Forty minutes later the sounds changed and the whir of the treadmill started, followed by a regular thumping that gradually sped up as his feet pounded on the belt. An hour more had passed when she heard the shower turn on in his bathroom.
She found herself prowling along the floor-to-ceiling windows like a panther trapped in a cage. He’d be naked, those four showerheads in his expansive bathroom were pounding his back with steady pulses of hot water. Water that would cascade over his chest, sluice down his belly and over his cock. A cock she wanted to-STOP IT!
When the water shut off, she turned her back to the room and pretended to focus on the lights of the city. But once he stepped into the room, the lights faded and all she could see was the reflection of Sam. Wearing only a pair of navy sweats and a towel wrapped around his neck, he prowled across the room to stand directly behind her. The broad expanse of his chest was still visible in his reflection for the top of her head barely cleared the base of his sternum.
“The view is beautiful, isn’t it?” he said softly. Except he wasn’t looking at the panorama of the city, he was looking at her reflection.
“Y-yes.” It took every ounce of her willpower to continue facing the windows, not to turn into the chest that formed a wall at her back, not to touch the scar down the middle of his chest, or the star-shaped bullet wound just to the left and ask him about it. She’d once asked, but no one, not even Chad, would tell her about the story of who’d put it there. She closed her eyes and forced herself to breathe slowly.
Closing her eyes only made her awareness of him worse. It let her focus on the warmth that flowed from him, enveloping her in a comforting blanket. While he hadn’t put on any more of that wonderful cologne he wore, she was aware of a scent underneath the smell of the soap he’d used. Every man she ever met from now on would be compared to the man standing directly behind her.
Her breath left her in a whoosh when he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.
“You look like you’ve had a tough day, Ms. Ramos. You need to relax.”
Heck he didn’t even have to touch her, his voice alone could melt her bones and turn her into a puddle of goo at his feet. When his fingers massaged her shoulders, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch.
“That’s it, Rosie. Just relax.”
Her breasts felt heavier, warmer, the fabric of her blouse tightened over her nipples longing to be touched by the fingers that caressed her neck.
And then her Berry rang, a unique ring she’d assigned to Chad’s number. Crap! How had she forgotten that she was not only Sam’s employee but his bodyguard?
Employee, not lover. Remember his type. Tall, lithe and beautiful. And if she added the news clippings and photos of his last girlfriend to the equation, rich.
She straightened her shoulders as she removed her Berry then, without looking at Sam’s reflection, took a half step sideways and fled to the kitchen. “Hey, Chad, what’s up?”
When she returned, she found Sam sprawled on the couch, one foot on the floor, the other propped up on the coffee table. He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here, Rosie, let me finish that backrub.”
“I’m here to protect you, Mr. Watson. Not to relax.”
His lips tilted up in a half smile that she knew so well. “You don’t mind if I relax though, do you?”
Something about the way he asked had her on alert. Nothing he said ever meant quite what she expected. “It’s your home, Mr. Watson.”
“My name’s Sam.”
“I think while I’m guarding you I’ll stick with Mr. Watson.” She had to keep that formality or she’d not only fall into his arms but crawl into his bed.
One eyebrow arched up. His fingers drummed on his thigh a couple of times before he reached for a box by his foot on the coffee table and withdrew a cigar. “Since this is my house, I’d say that you should abide by my rules.”
His rules? “Why don’t I just call you My Lord or Master.”
His gaze dropped to her cleavage, which swelled over the arms she’d folded across her chest, and his smile widened. When he looked up at her, something hot and dark flared in the back of his eyes. “If I’m your master, I guess that makes you my slave.”
His sense of humor was well known, but the look on his face told her that he wasn’t joking, and the powerful undercurrent in the conversation left her floundering for sure footing. “Slavery’s outlawed in this country.”
“If you only knew.” He trimmed the end of his cigar then picked up a book of matches and struck one, holding the flame to the cigar’s tip.
Her feet touc
hing bottom once more, Rosie raised her chin and looked him square in the eye. “While I am staying here, Mr. Watson-”
His brows clamped together in a frown of displeasure. “I thought I told you to use my name. My Christian name.”
Arrrgh! “Sam then! The point is, I have a few rules of my own.”
“I’ll just bet you do.” He gestured with his cigar to the couch again. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while we discuss your rules?”
“I prefer to stand, thank you.” Ignoring his raised eyebrow, Rosie paced in front of the fireplace. “You’ve made it very clear you don’t like having bodyguards, but you have to remember that you are the owner of Hauberk-if something happens to you there will be a lot of people out of jobs.”
“I’m quite aware of that.” His thumb and index finger rolled the cigar in what she knew was an unconscious gesture, she’d seen him do it so many times before. Yet she found herself entranced by the motion of the glowing tip. “You were telling me your rules?”
She jerked her attention back to his gaze and saw the look of amusement on his face. Damn it, she had to stay in control. “As your lead op, it’s up to me to ensure your safety as well as the future employment of your employees. So first off, you do not answer your door-that’ll be my job. I’ll be screening your phone calls as well. Whenever you leave the apartment, you will wear a bulletproof vest and we will take one of the company limos. You will not attempt to leave-” She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “No, Chad warned me that you might try something sneaky. If you try to get past us-past me, I will recommend that you be stashed in one of Hauberk’s safe houses and kept under armed guard. And Chad’ll agree.” He would, she’d already discussed that possibility with him. “Now, I want you to guarantee me that you will not try to go anywhere without one of the team with you.”
“You’d trust me if I agreed?” His voice deepened.
“Yes. You’re a man who honors his promises. Now, will you give me your word not to go anywhere without me, Andy or Kris with you?”
He tipped his head and drew a long puff on his cigar. After he’d exhaled a wreath of smoke into the air, he nodded and raised his left hand. “I promise to let you answer the door and the phone, and I promise to stay in the apartment while you’re with me.”
Chapter Seven
Before she could point out to him that he’d raised the wrong hand, or question the way he’d phrased his promise, her cell phone buzzed, and two seconds later there was a knock at the door.
Checking her cell, she found a one-word text message from Andy confirming the identity of their visitor. As she hurried to the door, she glanced over at Sam who crossed his feet on the coffee table and took another long drag of his cigar.
A king of the castle ensconced on his throne as his lackeys hustled around him. Yet there was no sense of entitlement about him. No smug satisfaction. So why did she have the feeling she’d fallen into some sort of trap?
Even though she knew who was on the other side, Rosie checked the flat screen monitoring the camera they’d mounted outside. Their visitor’s identity confirmed, she opened the door.
“Hi, Sandy, what brings you here at this hour?”
Sandy stepped into the foyer and gestured to Kris who trailed behind her carrying two banker’s boxes.
“Chad asked me to bring over the files of clients we’ve had for the past two years-he figures there might be something in them about Sam’s stalker.”
“Where do you want ’em?” Kris asked.
Rosie jumped when Sam spoke from directly behind her. “Why don’t you take one box back to your apartment? Rosie and I can start going through the other box here.”
How did such a large man move so quietly?
Sam relieved Kris of the top box, but before he could disappear down the hall to his study, Sandy stopped him. “Oh and, Sam? Chad wants you to give me your Blackberry-he wants to give you a new number. John is loading some program on my computer to catch anyone going into my address book.”
“Hang on a sec, I’ll get it for you.”
Sam headed to his office while Kris ambled back to what Rosie now thought of as their temporary headquarters, leaving her alone with Sandy. Rosie made small talk, but noticed that Sandy kept shuffling her feet and not meeting her gaze. “Sandy? Is something wrong?”
“It’s just… I’m surprised you’re…” Sandy glanced down the hall, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Forget I said anything.”
“Something’s bugging you, Sandy, I can tell. So spill.”
“I’m just didn’t expect to see you at Sam’s place, that’s all. I figured you’d be monitoring the cameras and Kris or Andy would be here.” Sandy shrugged and shuffled closer to the door. “You know it’s nothing. Really. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Sandy?” Rosie fixed her with a glare. “You knew I was heading the team, so why are you surprised I’m here.”
Sandy’s gaze darted toward the hallway to make sure Sam wasn’t nearby before she leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper. “When Sam and Chad were discussing who to assign to the team and Chad said he wanted to assign you as lead op, Sam said he didn’t want you guarding him.”
Rosie stiffened as her pride in being named head of his team evaporated in a red haze. How had she forgotten the look on his face, or how he’d snarled at Chad when he’d realized she was in on the meeting. That feeling she’d had in the elevator hadn’t been an illusion. “Was it me personally he objected to, or just any woman?”
Sandy’s gaze dropped briefly, darted back to the door. “Sam said…” She took a deep breath. “Sam just said he didn’t want you guarding him. He was fine with Andy and Kris.”
He’d lied to her. Outright lied.
Oblivious of the flames about to erupt from Rosie’s ears, Sandy kept talking. “Sam didn’t want to have any bodyguards at all-you should have heard them arguing, I’ve never seen Chad get so riled up. But he was definitely against having you on his team.”
“Here you are, Sandy.” Sam walked into the foyer and handed Sandy his Blackberry. “Thanks for runnin’ those files over. Make sure you expense your mileage. And don’t let Chad make you work too late tonight, you hear? There’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow.”
“It’s no problem at all, Sam.” As Sandy gave Rosie a hug good-bye, she whispered. “Don’t make a big deal about it, okay? He’s a guy and you know how guys are.”
Hitching her purse up on her shoulder, Sandy fled the foyer, leaving Rosie shaking.
No wonder he kept offering her a beer-he’d been trying to find a way to get rid of her. If she’d accepted, she’d have given him grounds for dismissal.
Sam wandered toward the kitchen. “I was fixin’ to make some dinner. I could grill us some chicken and toss a coupla sweet potatoes in the oven. We could finish it all up with that pecan pie you bought.” Normally she found the way he pronounced pecan more like pehcawn sexy, but now his drawl shredded her nerves.
“No, thank you.” Rosie turned her back on Sam and marched to the spare bedroom. She pulled her suitcase from the closet, tossed it on the bed.
“Is there a problem?” Sam said from the doorway.
“Not at all.” She grabbed the clothes she’d put in the top drawer and tossed them into the suitcase.
He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe, his forehead furrowing. “Then why are you packing like there’s a four alarm fire on the floor below?”
“I’ve decided to switch off with Kris or Andy. We’ll all be happier that way.” Well, she wouldn’t be. Goddamn, when would men realize that just because she was only 5’1 and didn’t have a penis didn’t mean she couldn’t provide proper protection or run an effective op?
“Happier? You wanna tell me why you think I’d be happier with them? What bee crawled up your- What’d I do to send you running like someone tied a bottle rocket to your tail?”
She whirled, her arms held rigidly at her side. �
�Oh, let’s see, you wanted someone else protecting you, not a little bitty woman who wasn’t a former Navy MP or D.C. City cop or CIA spook. And then when I asked you earlier if you had a problem with me being on your detail, you lied to me. Outright lied! I’ve put up with a lot of crap, Mr. Watson, but I don’t tolerate lies. You don’t want me guarding you, fine. But you should have said that when I asked.”
“I didn’t lie. I never said I didn’t want you protecting me because you were a woman.”
“But you told Chad you didn’t want me assigned to you, didn’t you?”
“Yes, that part’s true. But-”
“Ay bendito. I knew it.” She advanced on him. “Just because I’m short doesn’t mean I can’t take you down-just ask Kris or Andy. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I’m not a damned good shot. I’ve been trained in counter-surveillance, and bomb disposal.”
“I know that, I-”
“Just because I’ve never worn a uniform or carried a badge doesn’t mean I can’t guard you. I’ve been on details guarding an Oscar winning actor while he was making that movie down in Savannah and got him to safety when the barricades failed to hold back hundreds of screaming fans.” Then the asshole had expected her to put out in the limo. “I’ve protected those three country music singers-did I mention how much I hate country music-and let’s not forget the gentleman from Saudi Arabia with his three wives and sixteen kids, or the dozens of women from the Safe and Sound program.”
“I know you’re good at your job. That wasn’t why I wanted someone else.”
“Ha! So you did want someone else. You admit it.”
“Yeah, I already admitted it. But-”
“But you don’t trust me to protect you.” She closed the cover on the suitcase and zipped it.
“I trust you. But-damn it! I wasn’t objecting to you because you’re a woman, Rosie. Well, yeah, it’s sort of because you’re a woman. Aw, hell, you’re reading this all wrong.”
“For all your bullshit about equal opportunities, it’s still just bullshit. You want to be a big macho he-man who guards the ‘little woman’ but God help you now it’s the other way around.”