by Tawny Weber
“Indeed,” Alcosta said, his tone more dismissive than interested. Mia could feel his stare and knew he wasn’t paying any attention to the painting.
She kept her eyes locked on the artwork while nerves fluttered over her skin. She knew when a man was interested in her, and this wasn’t the first time she’d had to discourage a potential client. But never one with a project—or an ego—the size of Alcosta’s.
It’d take a delicate balance of flattery, diplomacy and evasion to avert the interest while enticing the business. Still working out the logistics, Mia gestured to the painting again.
“Would you like to meet the artist? She’s as beautiful as she is gifted.”
“I’ve already found the most beautiful woman in the room. Why waste time with anyone else?”
“You’re too kind.” Mia put another inch between them, looking around the room, looking for a polite escape. Her gaze landed on Spence again.
A tingle curled in her belly. He was talking to a group of people, including Clair, who was clinging to his arm like Velcro. But all the while, those piercing eyes were locked on her with an intensity that made her want to squirm. Nerves, she told herself. Just concern that Spence was doing a good job. Clair was obviously keeping him busy.
“Kindness is not necessary when the truth will suffice,” Alcosta said, pulling her attention back to him as he lifted her hand again. Mia braced herself, but he didn’t kiss it this time. Instead, he just held it and stared at her until she wanted to brush at her face. “I’ll be happy to bid on this painting if it makes you happy. And in return, you’ll help me find the perfect place to display it. We can discuss it over dinner, perhaps? My suite, tomorrow night?”
“I appreciate the invitation, but I have a prior commitment.” With her jammies, her laptop and a pint of Chocolate Chunk Delight. “I do hope you’ll bid, though. This painting suits you so well and would be a wonderful addition to any art collection.”
“Ah, collections. As a connoisseur of art, seeing these paintings is only one of the reasons I was eager to attend this evening. I understand that you have access to the famed Penz collection. I lost a lovely Monet to the senator in an auction and have envied him that painting ever since.”
“Monet was an amazing artist,” Mia said with the same care she would use dancing in a minefield.
“Your expertise in tonight’s gala gives me the idea to include something similarly in my own series of fund-raisers. Perhaps a more intimate affair, one with a more exclusive guest list. You are related to the senator, yes?”
Ah, Mia almost sighed. Damn.
She really didn’t want to go there, but didn’t see a lot of options.
“Senator Penz is my uncle,” she confirmed.
“A great man, your tío Penz, and one I’d be honored to meet. I believe his presence would bring a great deal of attention to our cause, as well as highlight his support of the arts. This is what they call a win-win, yes?”
“I’m so sorry, Señor Alcosta, but I don’t feel comfortable using my family’s connections for profit.”
For a brief second, something flashed behind the charm in his dark eyes. Something so cold and cutting, it sent a tiny shiver of fear through Mia’s system. Before she could figure out why, it was gone, leaving only a lingering chill.
“I confess I am disappointed.” Then, exchanging his empty glass for a full one, he gave an easy shrug. “But I am sure you have many other ideas that might be equally intriguing.”
“I really do have a long list of fabulous fund-raising ideas to share with you at lunch on Monday. I’m excited to integrate your art benefit into the list. I can think of numerous ways to make it an event you’ll be excited about,” Mia said, hoping that’d appease him.
She didn’t know if his “ah” was an acknowledgment or agreement, but at least he dropped the subject. Instead, Alcosta waved one elegant hand toward the dance floor.
“The music is almost as lovely as the artwork. If you won’t have dinner with me, at least grant me the pleasure of a dance?”
“I’d be delighted.” Mia laid her hand in his.
When her body recoiled at the touch of his hand on her waist, she reminded herself that this was business. Important business, which she was an expert at handling. To prove it, she spent the entire dance weaving a subtle, skilled pitch of how her services would benefit his hospital charity event, while being careful to keep her every word and action completely professional.
“You’ll sit next to me at dinner, of course?”
“Actually, I have duties to attend to,” she decided on the spot. “But I’m sure that I’ll see you after the meal.”
He gave her another one of those piercing looks that made the hair on the back of her neck stand at attention.
“If I didn’t know better, I might think you were not interested in spending time with me.” Alcosta’s laugh was chilling. “Except, of course, for business.”
Mia was skilled enough to keep the well, duh from her face, but couldn’t help but wonder why he’d think otherwise. It wasn’t like she’d hit on the guy or they had a long-term relationship. Still, she’d worked with the wealthy long enough to know to step carefully around this type of narcissistic arrogance. Especially if she wanted his business.
She caught sight of Lorraine in her hot-pink and huge diamonds as the older woman gave a thumbs-up from across the room. She followed that with patting her hip, then miming eating, then another thumbs-up.
Lorraine. With her extensive connections, her propensity to gossip and, most of all, her elite Winter Ball.
Lorraine. Who wanted Santiago Alcosta for any variety of reasons, not the least of which were his charm, mustache and notoriety.
Mia sighed.
Yeah. She definitely needed Alcosta and his business.
Before she could figure out how to maneuver this new tightrope, she felt a presence at her side. Her breath caught in her chest, tiny goose bumps dancing over her suddenly overheated flesh.
She didn’t need to look to know it was Spence standing next to her. She didn’t need to see Alcosta’s glare, either, to know the man didn’t like the interruption.
Before she could say anything, Spence leaned in close, his breath warming her cheek like a gentle caress.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, Mia, but when you have a moment...” he murmured, his hand a whisper of warmth on the small of her back.
Without waiting for a response, or even for an introduction, he left.
“I’m sorry,” she told Alcosta, following his gaze as he watched Spence walk away. “Apparently I need to check on some event details.”
“That man? He works for you?”
“He’s my boyfriend,” Mia heard herself lie. She leaned close enough to make it seem like she was sharing a secret, but not so close that it seemed like she was flirting. “He’s got a few issues with jealousy. We’re working on them, but sometimes he backslides.”
“He does appear to be quite a brute,” Alcosta said, inspecting Spence with a look of derision. “And not at all your type.”
“The heart wants what the heart wants.” Or more realistically, in her case, the body lusts.
“Mmm, and sometimes the heart shows a person’s taste in ways nothing else could,” he murmured before giving her a look more leering than charming. As if weighing his chances of pitching an affair seconds after meeting her supposed boyfriend.
Mia realized that she didn’t like Alcosta. If he’d been any other client, she’d have made one last donation pitch, said her polite goodbye and that’d be the end of it.
But he was simply too important to her career.
Spurred by desperation, she went with the lesser of two evils.
“You know, I just remembered that my uncle is due for a visit to the West Coast. I would be happy to ask him to arrange it to coincide with your f
und-raiser.”
“Indeed?” Alcosta’s smile cleared the irritation from his face. “That would please me greatly.”
“We’ll talk about it more on Monday,” Mia promised. “But if you’ll excuse me for now, I have duties to attend to.”
It took another few minutes to extricate herself from Alcosta’s company, putting Mia just enough behind schedule that she decided to wait to report to Lorraine until after she’d checked in with the kitchen.
And then she’d find Spence and explain that she’d added fake boyfriend to his job description. A job she’d bet he was excellent at, she thought with a sigh. Her job, she reminded herself, would be keeping firmly in mind the “fake” part. Because she had a feeling that pretending with Spence would be temptation personified.
Chapter 4
“There you are, hot stuff,” Clair said, her words on the slurred side of bubbly, thanks to a few too many glasses of free-flowing champagne. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
The blonde expressed her appreciation at finding him by making a grab at Spence’s ass, this time hard enough for those talons she called fingernails to dig into his skin.
This job should come with hazard pay.
“I’ll bet your boss is saying the same thing about you,” he murmured, shifting to the left so he didn’t lose his view of Mia through the crowd. “Didn’t you say that—it’s Lorraine, isn’t it?—that she had a long list of work for you to do tonight?”
As he’d expected, that’s all it took to set her off in a bitch-fest about how overworked she was, how unfair her boss was and, after she’d snagged another flute of champagne from a roving waiter, how much she liked the way his muscles flexed when he moved.
Clair reminded him a lot of Lori. He’d only dated a handful of times months ago—well before his accident—and had made it clear that he had no interest in a long-term relationship. When he’d been on duty, living on base and traveling for various military ops, that message had been easy to reinforce. Then she’d got word of is injury and, what? Figured that despite his strong assurances that he had no interest long-term relationships, he’d suddenly be desperate to settle down?
He glanced at Clair and sighed. Some women just didn’t like to take no for an answer.
But now that she’d removed her talons from his flesh, Spence pressed the mental mute button and watched Mia. He supposed, in a room filled with brilliant colors, she figured the black dress made her fade into the background. It didn’t. Instead, the way the fabric draped and folded over her curves gave the impression that she’d just slid out of bed, naked and well loved, before wrapping herself in a velvet sheet.
His throat went so dry at the thought, he was tempted to grab one of those glasses of champagne for himself. But he never drank on duty.
Of course, he’d never worn a tux while on duty before, either.
His assignments had never included rich snobs, highbrow art and hiding his identity from his assignment, a too-sexy-for-her-own-good VIP.
A VIP that felt like heaven in his arms. A warm, lush heaven. His mouth went dry at the memory of those intriguing eyes looking deep into his, those full lush lips being within kissing distance.
She was an endangered VIP, he reminded himself, scowling as he forced himself to focus on the reality at hand instead of on an irresponsible, and more to the point, unattainable fantasy.
Reality wasn’t what she’d felt like when he’d caught her. The reality was that Mia could have been seriously hurt in that fall. A fall that might—or might not—have been an accident. After he’d let Mia go, he’d done a careful check of the hallway and found a series of almost infinitesimal drops of oil.
Left behind by careless kitchen worker? The hall did lead from the kitchen, so that was a reasonable assumption. But Spence couldn’t dismiss the concern churning in his gut.
That churning deepened as he watched Alcosta approach Mia, his smarmy smile doing nothing to hide the predatory look in his eyes.
The tension filling Spence’s gut now had nothing to do with lust and everything to do with concern. His first instinct was to stride across the room and plant himself directly between Alcosta and Mia. Better yet, to wrap her in his arms, mark her as his in a way that’d force the other man to back off.
Or else.
But he doubted that Mia would appreciate his interference. There was a good possibility that interfering would piss her off. Maybe enough that she’d fire him.
His jaw clenched when Alcosta shifted closer to Mia, trailing the back of his hand along her bare arm.
To hell with pissing her off.
He wanted that man away from her.
Before he took a single step, though, he watched Mia introduce Alcosta to a nearby group before unobtrusively gliding away. Spence’s sharp appreciation of the graceful brushoff was blunted by the fact that Alcosta’s eyes never left her.
Maybe he’d haul the guy outside and give him a little warning about what was and wasn’t appropriate.
Except that wasn’t the job at hand.
Damn. He was seriously losing perspective on this.
Spence scrubbed a hand over his hair, but the move did nothing to relieve the frustration churning in his gut.
What the hell was his next step?
Once, he’d had a solid handle on protocols. He understood a clear chain of command. A team of experts by his side, covering his back, offering up their shared expertise while they fought in the deepest pits of hell for their country.
Maybe staying in the Navy and riding a desk wouldn’t have been such a bad idea after all.
Something to consider, he decided, while absently sidestepping Clair’s wandering hand again.
For now, he had his orders.
As if he needed a reminder, his cell phone chimed.
He glanced at the readout.
“I have to take this,” he murmured.
Ignoring Clair’s disappointed pout, he stepped to the door. Not into the hallway, though. He wasn’t letting Mia out of his sight.
“Sir.”
“Report,” Cade barked through the phone line.
“I’m on duty, at the gala, focused on the target.”
“Threat level?”
He’d usually lay it out, fact by fact. But Spence hesitated, brutally aware that this wasn’t a typical assignment. The admiral might be his commanding officer and an employer of sorts, but this was about the guy’s daughter. So Spence needed to temper his words accordingly.
After hearing about that slew of accidents around her, he’d still leaned toward this being a fluff job: a way to appease the admiral’s wife and, more important, a way to score himself a prime new career.
But he didn’t believe Mia’s little slip and slide down the hall had been an accident. Not with the oil conveniently dribbled over the floor.
“Sir, I’ve made contact with your daughter and am currently serving as her assistant. This not only allows me to work closely with her, but also offers me insights into her business with the opportunity to insert myself into her dealings.”
They both knew that wasn’t the actual question. But until Spence had completed a thorough recon of the situation, he was hesitant to assign a threat level and worry the man.
“Do you require any backup?”
“No, sir. I will require proper references and a résumé that support this position, though. Through someone named Karen?”
“Consider it done. And Alcosta?”
“Present. Reports show that he usually travels with an entourage, but he’s solo here. Could be because of the ambiance of an event like this. Could be reluctance to donate the required five grand per person.”
Could be that Alcosta was reluctant to hit on pretty women half his age when he was surrounded by his employees. But given that the guy’s eyes had been crawling over Mia in a way
that made Spence want to drop-kick him, that last one was doubtful.
“And Mia?”
His gaze still locked on the woman in question, Spence watched with appreciation as she convinced one guy to buy a painting of a red dot, instructed a waiter to make one last round and signaled someone in the dining area to begin the music. All at the same time.
The light of the chandeliers glinted off her skin, making it look like alabaster dusted with diamonds. Obviously in her element, she sparked with an energy Spence recognized. He’d felt it plenty of times. That assurance that you were doing exactly what you were meant to do, exactly how you were meant to do it.
Damned if he didn’t miss feeling like that.
“She runs one hell of a show.” Then, remembering who he was talking to, he amended that to, “She has a firm handle on the workings of high society. The people, the entertainment, the games, if you will. She does her work behind the scenes, yet still remains front and center.”
He reviewed the mental debate he’d had since discovering the drops of oil in the hall. His assignment was specific—to protect Mia from Alcosta. He had no proof that someone had deliberately spilled oil on the floor, and no reason to believe that the incident was connected to Alcosta.
Holding back the intel until he’d done further reconnaissance was standard protocol. It had nothing to do with reluctance to describe the incident aloud—especially to Mia’s father—until he was sure his intense physical reaction was under complete control.
“She’s a pretty thing, isn’t she?” Protocol obviously had nothing on a father’s pride.
“Pretty enough to garner quite a few admiring looks.” He’d keep his to himself. “Including from Alcosta.”
“You’re confirming the man is interested in more than my daughter’s professional skills?”
Spence tore his gaze away from the gentle curve of Mia’s back to scan the crowd. He didn’t have to look far to find the man in question, drink in hand. His dark, hooded eyes watched Mia with a predatory hunger that made Spence’s fist clench.
“Affirmative.”