by Tawny Weber
Given that he was the entirety of Mia’s security budget—and since Alcosta refused to pay for more—there was no option for putting guards on the doors. Mia had agreed to sensors on the doors and volunteers on the entrance to check in guests, but she’d put her foot down over cameras.
The special ops trained part of him wanted to insist on stronger security. On more personnel, stronger electronic surveillance.
But despite Alcosta’s lousy rep, and Spence’s own intense dislike for the guy, no amount of research had turned up an actual, credible threat. But Spence was still determined to complete the mission. Not only because the Admiral would insist, and because it was simply Spence’s nature to finish what he started. That, and because he didn’t want to leave Mia until he had to.
When he’d reached the back patio that she’d designated for outdoor dancing, he noted that the portable bar was already set up in the corner, and a dozen small tables were scattered among the tall flower arrangements.
He glanced overhead as he heard the hum of a low-flying plane as it glided through the blue sky, infinitesimally changing the trajectory of sunlight. It wasn’t a gleam that caught Spence’s eye. More a shift in the shadows. Frowning, he stepped around the chest-high vase overflowing with purple blooms and trailing greenery and reached into a manicured swirl of ivy, wrapping his fingers around the cold metal.
Someone had planted a gun.
Loaded, ready and waiting for murder.
* * *
“Mia, do you have a minute?”
She did not.
Not with the cocktail party that was going to launch her biggest career success in thirty minutes. Already dressed in an emerald silk sheath, five-inch Louboutins and her favorite hammered-brass jewelry, Mia had already done two rounds to ensure that everything was ready to rock.
It almost was.
She just had to finish adding her own personal touch to a few things. Like finish interspersing photos of children who’d be helped by the hospital in between the gaily wrapped packages on the gift table.
So Mia didn’t have a second, let alone a minute.
Still, she shot Jessica a smile over her shoulder and asked, “How do you think this looks? I debated telling the florist to tone it down to two arrangements instead of three, but I’m glad I didn’t. I think the profusion of lilacs and hydrangeas really makes a statement, don’t you?”
Already frowning, Jessica looked at the bowls of flowers arranged between pyramids of colorful gifts decorating the round marble-and-wrought-iron table and shrugged.
“I guess it looks okay. I don’t understand why we’re giving gifts to the guests, though. Isn’t the whole point to get as much money as we can, not to give it away?”
“The point is to make sure that our guests are so comfortable and grateful as they enjoy themselves that they are happy to donate as much money as possible.” Mia defiantly adjusted the top package so the bright turquoise bow was at a sassier angle. “Gifts tend to make people feel a little more beholden than they might feel before the party, and seeing them next to these sweet faces will inspire and make people feel good about themselves.”
“And the pictures? Who are those kids?”
“They’re special-needs or chronically-ill children in the area who will be served by the hospital,” Mia said, wondering why she was explaining. She glanced over her shoulder to frown at Jessica. “I’d think you’d know that. Aren’t you the one who got the photos for me?”
“Oh. Oh, yeah.” Peering at the images in their antiqued pewter frames, Jessica pulled a face. “I guess I didn’t recognize them in such a fancy setting.”
Wrinkling her nose at her roommate’s tone, Mia pulled a tray of donation cards from the box she’d used to load everything, adding it to the very center of the table, then stood back.
“It looks good,” she decided.
“I guess you’re the expert.”
About to snap back that yes, I am, Mia drew in a long breath through clenched teeth. Once she got a good look at Jessica’s face, she added a sigh. She didn’t have time for drama, dammit. But she made herself ask, “Is everything okay?”
“I think we have an issue.” Scooping up one of the now-empty cardboard boxes, Jessica headed toward the back of the house.
An issue? Panic clawing in her gut, Mia grabbed the other box and hurried after Jessica, double-stepping through the kitchen. Her mind raced, cataloging every possible issue that could have come up. Since the vendors would all come to her, not Jessica, it had to be something to do with Señor Alcosta or his team. Had he changed his mind about something?
Mia yanked her cell phone out from where she’d tucked it in her jeweled belt as she hurried after Jessica into her staging area, a long room that spanned the back of the villa. A couple of the subcontractors were taking a break before the party started, chatting with each other over sandwiches.
“What’s wrong?” Mia asked as soon as she crossed the threshold. Cell phone at the ready, she prepared to call, summon or bribe her way into fixing the issue. “Is there something Señor Alcosta wants changed? Is someone missing? What needs to be fixed?”
“Get out,” Jessica snapped at the contractors, dropping the box. “We need the room.”
“We’re almost done.”
“Now.”
What the hell?
As shocked as the diners, Mia murmured her apology as the pair hurried past, sandwiches in hand and glares at the ready.
“There’s no reason to be nasty,” Mia said quietly. “Whatever the problem is, we can fix it. They weren’t to blame.”
“I don’t have time to play nice with the help.”
Whoa, flashback time. Images of Jessica browbeating a freshman who’d walked in front of her, of ruining the reputation of the girl who’d gone up against her as head cheerleader and even the rumor that she’d claimed sexual harassment to get a teacher fired after giving her a C. Eyes wide, Mia pursed her lips.
She’d told Spence that Jessica wasn’t nasty, and she’d meant it. But she’d forgotten about that vindictive streak. Seeing Mia’s expression, Jessica’s face smoothed out, the angry furrows fading into a rueful smile.
“Sorry, I’m just so upset that I’ve lost my grip on civility. I don’t mean to be rude.”
And just like that, Mia remembered how often she’d heard of Jessica sidestepping the trouble she’d made with a smile and a flash of charm.
How had she forgotten all of that?
Well, this sucked, Mia thought, shoving her fingers through the spiky disarray of her hair. Her mom was right. She hated that.
“What do you need to talk with me about?”
Jessica’s smile dimmed just a little at Mia’s clipped tone.
“We need to discuss that man you’re dating. Your assistant-slash-security expert. Spence Lloyd.” Even though it was just the two of them in the room, Jessica leaned in and asked in a hushed voice, “Do you know where he is right now?”
“Spence? I’m sure he’s around somewhere.” She’d actually gone searching for him herself after she’d changed into the clothes stashed in her car, but he’d been nowhere to be seen. Roommate or not, she wasn’t going to tell that to Señor Alcosta’s assistant, though. “His security strategy has a lot of elements that he has to oversee himself.”
“Security strategy? What strategy, Mia? The guy is way out of control. He’s poking into places he shouldn’t, asking about things that are none of his business.”
“You don’t like Spence?”
“I don’t like Spence.”
Mia glanced at her watch.
“The party starts in fifteen minutes, Jessica. Unless there’s an actual problem that you need to discuss with me immediately, I need to get in there and make sure everything is ready.”
“It’s ready,” Jessica said, flicking a dismissive wave toward t
he door. “You’ve done everything that has to be done, double-and triple-checked it, and nagged your staff until they can probably handle this in their sleep.”
“Two minutes,” Mia decided, figuring she could afford to lose 120 seconds in order to avoid the drama brewing in Jessica’s eyes. But even as she agreed to hear Jessica out, her body poised to get back to work.
“This Spence guy. Like I said, he’s going way overboard with the research. He’s even digging into Santiago’s past. That’s ridiculous. Santiago is the one throwing this party,” Jessica said, her words coming so fast that they almost fell over each other.
Spence had investigated Alcosta? Mia mulled on that for a heartbeat, then shrugged it off.
“Any research that’s been done on anyone is for the good of the fund-raiser. Spence’s job is to make sure these events are secure. That means looking into any potential threats.”
“You just met the guy. How can you trust him? Other than sex, what do you really know about the guy?”
“Maybe I’ve only known him a month, but I’d trust Spence with my life,” she said honestly. “I know he’s a good man with strong convictions. He’s hardworking and focused and, honestly, maybe even more driven than I am.”
He was sweet, tender, passionate and intense, too. And unlike everyone else in her life, he believed in her 100 percent, having total faith that she could do anything she set her mind to. He filled her life with pleasure, in and out of bed. What more did she need to know?
“Jessica, I appreciate your concern, but it’s misplaced. Now, the cocktail party is about to begin. I need to go.”
“Fine, if the guy is that good in bed, keep him around. But I’m surprised that you’d put someone in charge of security that you haven’t even done a thorough background check on. I’ll bet Santiago would be, too.”
Blackmail? Mia’s fists clenched. Enough already.
“I did a check, Jessica. Spence is clear.”
“You did a check?” The disbelief in Jessica’s tone was so thick, it practically dripped on the floor. “Like what? You did a Google search?”
“I called my father,” Mia snapped, irritated enough to confess, “I used his military connection to run a background check. Satisfied?”
The admission filled her with shame for giving into Jessica’s relentless litany of dire warnings. But she couldn’t put it past the other woman to mention her concerns to Alcosta. So while Mia hadn’t been willing to overtly poke into Spence’s background, she had caved enough to ask her father to check and simply let her know if there were any issues. She’d gladly taken his lack of a response as a thumbs-up.
“Your father, the Navy Admiral, checked him out?” She looked like she still wanted to argue, but Jessica finally shrugged. “I guess that’s thorough enough.”
“Thank you. Now, if you don’t mind, we have a party to host.”
If there was one person she could trust most in the world, she knew it was Spence.
Chapter 10
Mia had never been so exhilarated, stressed and irritated at the same time. As she herded the last of the guests to the exit, she struggled to keep her chitchat as light and breezy as the cool night air wafting in through the wall of open doors at the opposite end of the villa.
Since the party had run an hour past schedule, the cleanup crew subtly moved through the ballroom, starting their sweep while she handed out the thank-you gifts, accepted end-of-the-night donations and networked her way into two more events.
“Darling, this party is absolutely wonderful. Elegance with a touch of fun,” Lorraine Perkins stated as the attendant delivered her stole. She flipped the ends of the silver fur over the ruched bodice of her cocktail dress, her diamonds winking in the light. “The mariachi band added just the right touch of light entertainment to an elegant gathering honoring Mexico City and this fund-raiser.”
“I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Did you have a chance to visit with Señor Alcosta?” If so, she’d have been one of the few who had.
“I did. I made a generous donation, and in fact have a lunch appointment with him next week to discuss possibilities for our foundations to work together. You’ll coordinate, of course.”
Hopefully Alcosta would show up, Mia thought with a mental grimace. Fund-raisers, commitments, parties—apparently none of them were critical enough to guarantee his presence. She didn’t know what to make of that. For a man who’d insisted on putting his personal touch on every element of these events, he’d skipped out on a surprising number of planning sessions and meetings.
“And speaking of coordinating—” Lorraine continued, tucking her arm through Mia’s “—let’s do lunch to discuss something special.”
“The Winter Ball?” Mia asked, trying to keep her tone enthusiastic but not desperate.
“Oh, darling, that’s already yours. No, no, this is a different proposal.”
Hers? She had the Winter Ball? Mia had to imagine her feet filled with lead to keep from jumping up and down. She wanted to add a shout to her happy jumping. Not because she necessarily wanted the job, but because the offer itself was a huge sign of success.
“Lunch would be great. Almost as great as tomorrow’s sunrise breakfast and spa day,” Mia said, doing her duty by dropping in the subtle reminder of the next day’s event. “I’ve saved you a seat at the head table and made sure you’re booked with Sven.”
“Oooh, Sven?” Lorraine rounded her eyes as wide as her Botox would allow and gave Mia a breathy leer. “He sounds muscular.”
“Blond, buff and brainy. He holds the most intriguing conversations while pummeling your body into putty.”
By the time she and Lorraine reached the front door, the other woman had already promised to buy the deluxe spa package, to bring ten extra guests to Monte Carlo night and, if he was as good as Mia said, to hire Sven to give office massages twice a month.
She gave a relieved sigh as the heavy door shut, resisting the urge to prop her body against it, both for support and to make sure nobody came back in.
“All finished?”
This time Mia did jump, accompanied by a loud squeak of surprise.
“I didn’t see you there,” she gasped, one hand pressed against her chest to keep her heart from hitting the floor. “Where have you been?”
As he stood in the hallway leading to the kitchen, Spence’s face was in shadows. Even so, she could see his body tense. She told herself not to feel like a clingy girlie girl for asking. The man worked for her; he was on duty this evening. Knowing his location was part of her business. It had nothing to do with missing him.
“I’ve been around.” Stepping out of the hallway, he scanned the foyer, then the ballroom before meeting her eyes. “Securing the perimeter, ensuring the safety of your guests. That kind of thing. There were a few complications.”
“What complications?” Mia thought she could hear her feet scream at the very thought of trooping over the grounds to check out the perimeter breach or camera glitch or security snafu. Ignoring them, she asked, “Is there something I need to take care of?”
“No,” he said so decisively that she blinked. “I took care of everything.”
“So, the evening went well? No break-ins, robberies or threats of bodily harm?” she asked slowly, searching his face for a hint of what was feeding that underlying intensity.
“None. Everything is fine.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“You don’t?” He frowned. Then, with a twitch of his shoulders, he seemed as chill and friendly as ever. “Sorry, I’m always a little tense after an operation. Leftover adrenaline, I suppose.”
“An operation?” she said, half laughing and half worried about the tingle running down her spine. “That sounds so military.”
“Terminology is terminology.” He shrugged before giving her that look. The slow, melt-her-insides-with-d
esire look. Then he smiled. And that desire was set aflame. “You look like you could use a glass of wine or one of those massages you were talking about.”
“Are you offering? I’ll bet Sven’s got nothing on you.” And oh, how amazing did a massage sound? Preferably a naked, set-to-music-and-candlelight massage. Suddenly, the heavy exhaustion she’d dragged around for the last hour disappeared. “I just need to do rounds.”
At his blank look, she explained, “I need to check on the subcontractors, make sure we’re on track for tomorrow, then go through the estate to check for stragglers.”
“Stragglers?”
“Every once in a while, people have so much fun at an event that they forget to leave when it’s over. No biggie if it’s held at a hotel or public venue, but when it’s private property, I like to double-check.” Mia held up one hand before he could offer to do the rounds for her. “I won’t be able to relax unless I do this part myself. But you’re welcome to keep me company.”
“My pleasure,” he said, his tone so easy that she wondered if she’d imagined his hesitation.
She tucked her arm through his as they made their way through the first floor of the villa, as much to cuddle as to better support herself because her feet were killing her. Still, she decompressed a little with every painful step.
Everything was on schedule. The flowers and decorations had been cleared, the caterers had vacated the kitchen, and the cleaning crew was hard at work. As soon as the rooms were cleaned, they’d begin setting up for the next morning’s sunrise breakfast.
“Let’s check the grounds while the crew finishes the floors,” she decided. That way she only had to climb the stairs once. As soon as they stepped out onto the tiled patio, Mia’s feet screamed in protest. Gripping Spence’s arm with one hand, she used the other to peel off her stilettos.
“I love these shoes, but five hours in them is torture. Between walking and dancing, I think I covered three miles, and that’s not counting all the standing around, socializing.”