by J. K. Coi
“Even in this cheap, ugly suit?” she asked in a husky voice, running her finger down the lapel of her jacket and into the collar of her blouse, pulling it aside to show him the delicate edge of a pink lace bra.
Shit, she was screwing with him…and he deserved it.
He realized his mistake right away and let her go. She spun away and crossed the room. He’d gone in too hot when he should have played this one cool.
In his defense, it had been a while since he’d contemplated getting with someone outside of his social circles, where the women understood who they were dealing with and they wanted the same no-strings, no-expectations sex that he wanted.
She turned back to him with her arms crossed. “Why don’t I stay for a little while?” Her voice was already cool and detached once more, but her eyes were still ablaze, and he had felt her reaction to his touch. She couldn’t hide that from him now. “At least until I look at the threatening notes you’ve received and see what I can do about finding out who sent them.”
“They’re nothing,” he said. “The police have a copy of the one that was emailed this morning, and they’re looking into it now. I assume they’ll track the IP address, find out the note was sent from the library or a cafe from a fake account, and that will be the end of it.”
“And if it’s not?”
“Then they’ll flounder around, pretend to chase non-existent leads for a few more weeks, and the entire incident will go into a neatly labeled file folder until someone gets tired of it being there in the cabinet a year from now and throws it away.”
“The file wouldn’t get thrown away. Left unsolved, it would be stored in—”
“Not the point,” he said, annoyed.
She cocked her head as if she were trying to pull him apart and find out what made him tick. Was she now realizing she couldn’t just rely on Google for all her information about her new client? “You don’t have a lot of confidence in the police’s ability, do you?”
“Is there any reason why I should?”
She shrugged. “I guess that’s why I’m here.”
“And what do you think you can do that they cannot?”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” A hint of a smile tugged at her full mouth, making his cock throb and his brain go there again. Just like that he was picturing those lips wet and bruised from a blistering kiss, parted in passion. Even without any makeup, her lips were a tempting pink. Not to mention exceptionally full and lush, despite her pinched reserve and stiff regard.
He liked confidence in a woman. And intelligence. And apparently he liked sass, all wrapped up in a straight-laced, tight-lipped bodyguard.
Damn, but he wanted her even more after that little tease than he had before.
He wanted to find out what made her tick. He wanted to make good use of that mouth as he was exploring every inch of her creamy skin, breaking her calm facade and uncovering all of her mysteries. But he’d learned his lesson, and he would be more subtle.
“In the meantime, I think I should stay close to you to ensure your safety,” she finished.
“All right, if you want to waste your time following me around, who am I to complain?”
“Thank you.” Her tone softened, and his breath caught when she unexpectedly smiled. “I know this was not your decision, and I’m grateful you’re taking it so well.”
“Save that thought until after you hear my conditions for your continued service.”
Her smile froze. “Conditions?” He returned to his desk and sat down, leaning back in the oversized leather chair and knitting his fingers behind his head as he looked up at her. When she didn’t follow his lead, he held out his arm and motioned for her to sit as well.
He took it as a good sign when her shoulders relaxed slightly and she placed the briefcase on the floor beside her and lowered herself into the chair. When she crossed her legs and tugged the hem of her skirt to her knees, he couldn’t help but watch. And when she bent over to pull a slim notebook from the depths of the bag and the front of her blouse gaped just enough to give him another shadowy glimpse of that fragile pink lace against her smooth, creamy skin, he felt like a seventeen-year-old boy again.
If he had any faith that a bodyguard—male or female—could actually be effective, he might have considered hiring Ms. Porter to watch over his mother and sister, just in case this threatened to touch them. He accepted that he would be stuck with her for a day or two to appease Ben and keep the shareholders from becoming alarmed. That said, if anyone found out that he had a bodyguard, it would only fuel rumors and gossip and create the kind of media circus that Optimus Inc. desperately needed to avoid now. If she couldn’t blend in, this wasn’t going to work.
“If word gets out that I hired security, it’ll be all over the internet in seconds. The email that got copied to the press has already started tongues wagging, and our shareholders are concerned. Any more drama could make them lose confidence in Optimus Inc. Whoever is doing this, they can’t be allowed to believe that they’ve succeeded in scaring me. I won’t let anyone ruin what Harrison and I have worked so hard to build.”
She frowned. “I think everyone would agree that your safety is more important than your public image, and your company should be able to withstand a—”
“If my safety were actually in peril, then sure, whatever you say. But that has yet to be confirmed, and right now…” It was a critical time for the company. Any more signs that there might be trouble could affect how the next few days played out. “I’m taking zero risks. We are not going to find out what my company can withstand. Got it?”
She nodded. “If that’s the way you want it. Then what are your conditions?”
He could still fire her, to hell with Harrison. But what would be the fun in that?
“I’ll allow you to conduct an investigation in whatever way you see fit, as long as it’s discreet, and as long as you run all of your findings through me before you talk to anyone else,” he said.
She nodded immediately. “Understood.”
“Good. And when it comes to the bodyguard thing, we’re doing it my way, despite what Mr. Harrison may have told you.”
She opened her mouth. “In my experience, a client doesn’t always know what’s best for his own safe—”
“This client does.” He shut her down before she could finish. “So if you want to keep this position and you insist on tagging along after me, you are going to have to remain completely inconspicuous.” He looked her up and down with a critical eye. “That means dressing like the type of woman I would be seen out in public with.”
He hadn’t meant that the way it came out.
Ms. Porter was a drop-dead gorgeous woman that any guy would kill to be seen with. She could be dressed in a burlap sack, and it wouldn’t matter. But this was about business, and if she stuck to him like glue in that ugly suit, combined with her rigid posture and stoic expression, it would be as effective as an ad in the paper announcing that there was blood in the water at Optimus Inc.
But her lips had pursed in reaction to his words, and at last another hint of emotion lit up those impossibly blue eyes. Even if it was only irritation…it would do for starters, so he didn’t bother to correct himself.
“It also means that none of this becomes fodder for the news hounds,” he continued. “In fact, I want you to sign an NDA. I’ll have my assistant draw it up.”
“A non-disclosure agreement? I don’t really believe that will be necess—”
“Well, I do. The only person who knows about your purpose for being here besides myself is my partner. So if I so much as hear a whisper in the media about Steve Nolan needing a bodyguard, I’ll know where it came from, and it’ll be your ass on the line.”
She frowned. “I would never—”
“Don’t bother to tell me what you’d never do,” he snapped, swallowing the bitter taste of remembered betrayal. “I’ve heard that one before.”
She paused, her gaze assessing. He tapped his finge
rs on the desk.
“All right,” she said finally. “I agree to your conditions.”
“Good.”
Let the games begin.
Chapter Two
“Then we have a deal, Ms. Porter?”
April allowed a crisp nod as she swiftly rose to her feet, giving in to the crazy compulsion to be on an even playing field with the inimitable Steve Nolan. She needed to be right there at eye level—although technically his eye level was about seven or eight inches higher than hers.
“We do, Mr. Nolan. As long as you keep up your end.”
She stifled a wince at the words your end. Had she really said that? Had it sounded as suggestive as it did on her tongue, or was she self-conscious because he had hit on her within moments of meeting her…and she’d liked it?
You’ve met high-powered, handsome men before.
You’ve met high-powered, devastatingly handsome, compelling men before.
Oh, who the hell was she kidding? She’d never met a man like him. A man who looked even better in person than he did on the cover of GQ. With sunshine in the gold flecks in his eyes and charisma bleeding from his pores, even when he was obviously frustrated by a difficult situation.
Exactly the kind of guy she stayed away from as a rule.
He held out his hand, the curve of a smile on his lips. “Shall we shake on it?” Steve Nolan was way out of her league.
Fifteen minutes ago when she’d walked into this office, she’d already known it. The proof was in the bulky designer watch on his wrist, and the cut of his custom suit. It had been there when he’d looked her over in her cheap clothes and mentally dressed her in something that wouldn’t embarrass him in his social circles.
He was just like Jeremy.
That fact should make it easy to do her job, collect her money, and then pretend that he’d never existed.
She glanced down at his outstretched arm. He waited.
Yes. It should be easy.
She gave in and his fingers closed firmly over hers. There was a leashed strength in his grip typical of the kind of men she’d been around all her life. It represented the type of power that didn’t come from corporate position or social standing, but was purely physical.
When he drew back and smiled again, she tensed, suspicious of his smiles more than his frowns. Like the last smile he’d laid on her, it felt like a weapon instead of a simple expression, designed to make her vulnerable, to trick her into letting down her guard and exposing her true self.
That’s ridiculous. You’re just the hired help. You’ll be lucky if he remembers your name tomorrow morning.
He was going to be one of those clients who didn’t take her seriously. He wouldn’t take the situation seriously, or the fact that it was her job to protect him no matter how ridiculous he believed that job to be. From the looks of him and what she knew of his reputation, he didn’t take much of anything seriously.
It should have been enough to turn her off, but she couldn’t calm her racing heart, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth in his fingers when he’d touched her. She shouldn’t have let him talk to her that way, should have put a stop to it before he’d gotten so close. When she’d realized that he was actually blatantly hitting on his bodyguard of five minutes, some perverse, wicked part of her had wanted to turn the tables on him, and so she’d played along.
Well, the tables had been turned all right. Her skin still tingled, and her lungs felt too full.
She told herself that she had experience dealing with his type. Intimate experience. Her ex Jeremy had taught her the hard way that there would always be a wall between people like her and people like them, and it was best not to cross it.
So she squared her shoulders and shored up her defenses. She would be the most professional security consultant she could be. She needed the money this contract would bring in to pay for her father’s cancer treatment and wasn’t about to lose the job because her client was a playboy.
“Can you show me the letters now, please?” she asked, eager to do something to change the focus of both their attention.
He extended his arm in an invitation for her to sit again. She picked up her notebook and flipped it open.
“The only letter I have here is the one that Harrison received by email this morning, and that has already been forwarded to you,” he said.
Yes, she’d seen a copy. Cut the bastard Nolan loose, or see your company fall into hell right along with him.
“As far as warnings go, it’s less specific than those that were addressed to me personally, but no less hostile.”
“Why didn’t you do anything about them before now?”
“Honestly, I couldn’t be bothered. Personal attacks are nothing new after years in the media spotlight.” He paused and frowned. “But attacking my friends or my company…that’s another matter altogether, and to tell the truth, if Harrison hadn’t called the police first, I might have done so myself this time.”
“And you don’t know why the media received a copy of the email?”
“I assume the bastard wasn’t satisfied with my lack of response after his first few notes, and this was an attempt to make me believe he’s serious,” he replied in a dry tone. “And maybe also to lay the groundwork for a monetary demand. That’s usually the next step, right? First you scare the victim with threats, then you demand money in exchange for making it all go away?”
“If that is, in fact, what this is all about,” she agreed. “If the incident escalates to that point, the monetary demand is probably going to be paired with a more specific threat. For example, the perpetrator may promise to reveal some secret that could damage your reputation and affect your business if the money isn’t paid. Is there something out there that could be used against you?”
He laughed. “What could be worse than what’s already out there?”
There’d been a scandal involving his family a number of years ago. She’d looked it up briefly after getting the call from her boss, Nora, this morning about the job.
Starting way back in the mid-1920s, Nolan’s family had started a manufacturing company. It had weathered the changing marketplace well over the years, and it had become the leading manufacturer of internet-based software in the eastern United States. But then Robert Nolan, Jr., Steve’s father, assumed control of the company, and a few years later, he killed himself when it came out that his CFO had robbed the company blind.
“The other notes were on paper, made from pasted magazine cut-out letters, like the guy watches too many cop shows. So the media didn’t get copies of all those, just the one sent by email to my partner this morning. But I can’t afford for this asshole to stir up any more trouble.”
“So where are the other notes, then?” she prompted.
“In my office at home,” he admitted. “I threw out the first one thinking it was a bad joke meant for someone else, but when I got another one I started keeping them. I got the last one two nights ago. It was waiting for me outside the hotel room door of a…uh…woman friend, and I found it when I was leaving for the night.”
Feeling the heat climb up into her cheeks, she frowned down at her notepad. “That’s not good. It would imply that—”
“I know what it implies,” he said with a scowl. “It means this bastard has been following me around and watching my movements, as well as sending his cowardly little notes.”
She nodded. “All right, we should get those as soon as possible. Are you available to leave now?”
If she could get her hands on the notes, there was a chance she could run them over to the police station and have them analyzed before the end of the day, which might even turn up a set of prints and put this case to bed before she would have to spend an entire night with Steve Nolan.
No! Not with him. Watching over him. Over him.
“No. After the fiasco this morning with the email and the police, I have a thousand things needing my attention, so I’ll be here for a while,” he said.
He wouldn’t appreciate being told that his safety might be more important. It was obvious that even after admitting someone had been spying on him, he still didn’t believe he was in any actual danger. At this point, she was willing to concede that he might even be right. This was looking like a typical annoyance case. Still, her job wasn’t to make assumptions, and so she needed all the information.
“I understand. Whenever you’re ready, let me know. I suppose tomorrow will be soon enough for us to take the notes down to the police station and find out what they can come up with.”
“Us?” He raised a brow. “As fun as an ‘us’ might be any other time, going to the cop shop is not on my agenda.”
“You really don’t like the police, do you?” She tilted her head. “Do you want to tell me why?”
His jaw clenched. “Let’s just say I would rather solve this matter on my own.”
“And yet, you haven’t,” she pointed out drily.
“Only because it isn’t worth my time. Whatever this asshole thinks he’s going to accomplish, he’s dead wrong. I know how to deal with trolls and bullies, and I refuse to give the fucking son of a bitch the satisfaction of intruding on my life, or thinking he can get to me with these pathetic scare tactics.”
A chuckle slipped out before she could stop it. “After so many years in the public eye, do you really have zero filter on that mouth of yours?”
He barked out a genuine laugh, too. “None whatsoever,” he admitted with a grin.
His eyes sparkled with vitality and a natural charm, just like they did in all those magazine photos of him going out on the town with beautiful women—a different one every time. Her gut clenched. She would have bet money on that sparkle being just a trick of the camera lens, but the reality of Steve Nolan was so much more compelling than she could ever have prepared herself for.
She cleared her throat and squeezed down on her reaction, trying not to think about the way those eyes might sparkle if he had her naked under him in bed. “I’m a little surprised you haven’t required the services of a bodyguard sooner.”