He took both of her hands in his. “I came here to convince you that I love you, that we belong together.”
“But you didn’t plan on proposing.”
He leaned in and kissed her. Hard. “I planned to use whatever means necessary to get you to give me . . . give us a chance.”
She didn’t know what to say to that.
“Look,” he said when she remained silent, “I know we didn’t have a relationship, not in the traditional sense.”
“No, we had some pretty amazing sex and an interestitwenty-four hours,” she said with a nervous laugh. “Not exactly the kind of foundation on which to build a lifetime together.”
“Why not?” he argued. “What about the last four months? All I’ve thought about is you. All I’ve wanted is you. Let me love you, Alyssa. Be mine. Be my wife.”
“You’d really marry me?”
“Hell, yes. Right now. We’ll rent a car and drive to Vegas.”
She was tempted. Very tempted. “What about your family ? They’ll be disappointed if you eloped with some girl they’ve never met.”
“If I love you, they’ll love you.”
She wouldn’t be calling a bookie to place a bet anytime soon.
“Marry me, Alyssa.”
She was cursed and she knew it. Preordained to fall helplessly, hopelessly in love with a man who set her on fire with just one look. Kerpow. That’s what her mom had said she’d felt the first time she’d looked at her future husband. Same with her Granny Belle. Who was she to think she was any different?
She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. It took him all of a nanosecond to have her toes curling and her panties damp. “I will marry you. But first you have to listen to what I have to say.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “I swear, sweetheart, I’ll never lie to you. Ever.”
“I know,” she told him, and meant it. “I was a little freaked out by the whole situation. I might have overreacted a little.”
“A lot,” he said, his tone teasing.
“Okay. A lot,” she conceded, unable to stop smiling. “Now are you going to listen to what I have to say?”
He stood and tugged her hand, pulling her to her feet, then stole her chair, only to compensate by pulling her into his lap. “I’m listening.”
“The house I bought is in Arlington. As in Virginia.”
“I’m still listening.”
Yeah, and he was grinning like a fool, too. But he was her fool, so it didn’t much matter.
She laced her fingers with his. “I have a job clerking for a federal district judge. I start in two weeks. Probably not nine to five in the strictest sense, but close enough for now,” she told him. “But I will have to cram for the Virginia bar exam in February, so I’ll be a little swamped for the first few months.”
“It’s your career,” he said solemnly. “I’ll never stand in your way.”
“I appreciate that.” She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Because I’d really like to try being a working mom. At least for a while. If it doesn’t fit, then I’ll quit and stay home with the kid, or kids.”
Caution, along with a fat dose of optimism, filled his gaze. “Any idea when the kid thing might happen?”
“Yeah, about that.” She drew his hand to her stomach and flattened his palm against her abdomen. “Does five months work for you?”
He laughed, the sound even more joyful than she’d been fantasizing about ever since she’d gotten the results of the pregnancy test. She explained to him that her life had been a whirlwind of activity since she’d found out about the baby. At first, she’d been stunned, but she’d made the decision to relocate to Virginia so her son or daughter would at least have a fighting chance at having a caring father in his or her life.
Although she wasn’t one to believe in signs, she’d tried to look at the situation in a positive light, especially when every step of her plan had fallen so perfectly in place.
Noah held her close and kissed her senseless. Granted, they barely knew each other, but they’d known enough to have fallen crazy in love. The way she figured it, they had the rest of their lives to work out the rest of it.
Acapulco Heat
ELISABETH NAUGHTON
For Becky,
Lover of books and all things adventure-related.
This one’s for you.
CHAPTER 1
His luck was in the crapper. And judging by the sexy show in full swing in front of him, it didn’t look to be improving anytime soon.
Finn Tierney’s eyes narrowed on the photo shoot across the white sand beach. No, sexy wasn’t the right word for what he was being subjected to watching. Pornographic was more appropriate.
He worked to keep his shoulders relaxed as he stood in the tropical Acapulco heat, the light breeze ruffling his shirt. He was a guy. Normally, he’d be all over watching this kind of thing, but after the string of bad luck dogging him like a curse, Finn was rethinking everything he’d once enjoyed.
And if the asshole with the wandering hand moved his fingers even an inch lower on that white bikini bottom, Finn was going to unleash his unique brand of bad luck on the dickwad directly in his line of sight.
“Javier,” the photographer to Finn’s left said, “spread your fingers and move your hand just a little lower, like you’re drawing her in.”
Finn clenched his jaw to keep from wrapping his hands around the photographer’s neck and wringing the life out of her. The woman seemed to know every one of Finn’s twisted that-better-not-happen thoughts and then put them in motion.
As the greased-up male model followed instructions, the photographer shifted. “Good. Now, Lauren, lift up on your toes and slide your arm around Javier’s neck. Perfect. Tilt your face up.” The photographer looked through her camera lens and clicked the shutter release in rapid fire.
Behind the duo, blue-green water lapped at the sandy shore and a soft breeze blew at the perfectly placed light hoods. Around the perimeter, tourists gathered to watch the shoot, and every second Finn stood here party to this carefully choreographed porn show, his blood pressure amped up another notch.
He reminded himself it could be worse. He could be babysitting a spoiled-ass prince in the Arabian Desert, looking for an heiress lost on safari in the Serengeti or dodging Guatemalan drug lords in Central America. He’d spent more than his fair share of time in shit-hole backwater countries during his years with the Irish Army Ranger Wing, Ireland’s special ops unit, baking in heat strong enough to melt a man’s brain while being surrounded by morons he’d rather shoot than rescue. And over the past five years as an operative for Aegis Ltd., the elite security firm he worked for now, he’d always been able tomaintain that professional distance and those high standards required by his employer. This assignment though? This time not so much.
The sunlight accentuated supermodel Lauren Kauffman’s high cheekbones and pouty lips. She shot Finn a wicked look before moving in closer to Javier Santiago’s body. So close the tips of her breasts grazed the male model’s chest. One side of her mouth curled as she continued to stare at Finn, yards away across the beach. She lifted her face, leaving her succulent mouth only centimeters from the brainless model who was about to lose his hands if he dropped them any lower on her ass. Then she giggled. Like she knew some wicked secret and wasn’t about to let anyone else in on the dirt.
Finn flexed and released his right hand. Had visions of whipping out his gun and plugging Santiago right between the eyes. And that’s when Finn realized what should have been obvious hours ago. The little vixen was playing him. And she was doing a damn good job of it, too.
That realization should have cooled him out, but instead, the muscles in Finn’s back tightened as he watched Santiago’s fingers twitch against Lauren’s barely-there white bikini bottom.
“No laughing,” the photographer barked as she moved in and clicked photo after photo. “Think about sex. Heat. Yes, good. You can’t keep your
hands off each other. You’re all alone. You’re ready to jump each other’s bones. Perfect. Hold that right there.”
Lauren’s smile died. She looked up at Santiago, closed her eyes and took a deep whiff, as if drawing him into her lungs and heart and soul. The muscles in her arms and shoulders flexed, her face took on a look of pure ecstasy. When she tipped her head to the side and the sun hit her just right, Finn was almost sure he heard her moan of pleasure. The same one he’d heard last night in his dreams.
“Yes, yes, perfect!” the photographer exclaimed. “Lauren, now open your mouth and ease up like you’re going to taste him. Wonderful.”
Santiago’s mouth opened and his fingers dug into Lauren’s hips. He pulled her tight against his groin. Her gasp of surprise was enough to kill the replay of Finn’s X-rated dream. He zeroed in on Santiago holding her too tight, too close, caught the way Lauren was trying to push the model away. Training kicked in. Finn’s body shifted in automatic response. His hand slid to his back where his Beretta was nestled against the base of his spine as he took a step forward in the sand.
“Wonderful,” the photographer said again, standing abruptly and lowering the camera. “I think we finally have what we need.”
Santiago let go of Lauren. She dropped down to her bare feet, eased away from the model. As she reached for a towel from her assistant, she shot the photographer a scathing look. Then her gaze landed on Finn, yards away, and she froze.
Ever so slowly, her shoulders relaxed and her lips curled in a sexy, Cheshire I dare you to do something about that grin that supercharged Finn’s blood all over again.
His skin tightened, and that X-rated dream popped back into his head, only this time they weren’t in a bed. She was bent over and he was behind her, thrusting hard, his body and hands and mouth drawing endless moans of pleasure straight from her succulent kiss-me lips.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself, trying like hell to dampen the arousal searing his veins in the sweltering heat. “She’s playing you, you bloody moron. She’s not real. She’s a model, for shit’s sake.”
The assistant handed Lauren a cold bottle of water an another did the same for Santiago. Around the perimeter of the photo shoot, the spectators who’d wandered out from their hotels clapped as if someone had just won a marathon. Three spring breakers, clad in nothing but swim trunks and sunburns, hollered at Lauren from the edge of the boundary.
She turned, shot them her famous sexy smirk and waved. Then she did the stupidest thing Finn could imagine. She brushed off her assistant and headed their way across the blistering sand.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Finn’s jaw clenched; his muscles tightened in response. The woman didn’t listen to a damn thing he told her—but why the hell was that a surprise? So far this week she hadn’t done a single thing he’d expected.
She stopped near the three college punks, perched one hand on her slim hip and tipped the water bottle from side to side with her other hand. All three losers laughed at something she said, then they stepped around her, boxing her in. The long-haired one, with muscles straight out of a steroid bottle, reached out to touch Lauren’s arm.
“Wrong move, dickhead.” Finn was across the beach in seconds, dropped the moron to the sand face-first in one move and swiveled back to see if the other two were stupid enough to jump to their friend’s assistance. Nope, they weren’t. As he secured the kid’s arms behind his back, both took a giant step away and held out their hands in surrender.
“Hey, man,” the tall one said. “Whoa.”
“Tierney!” Lauren grabbed him by the arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Finn ignored Lauren’s protest and wrenched the kid’s arm up higher on his back. Long-hair grunted in pain. “I think you boys have had yer fun for the day. This party’s over.”
“Tierney, you idiot,” Lauren said, this time whacking him in the arm with her water bottle. “He was just asking for an autograph. Let him go.”
Finn glared at Lauren, his frustration with this crappy assignment, the Latin model with the wandering hands, the asinine photographer, and most of all, her, reaching a crescendo. Those shithead Guatemalan drug lords were looking more appealing by the minute.
He glanced around, realized he had an audience and finally let the stupid college kid go. The boy rolled to his side and spit out a mouthful of sand, but at least he had the brains not to mouth off. He pushed up on his hands and knees. Coughed. When Lauren reached down to try to help him, he choked out, “No. No. That’s okay. I’m fine.”
“I am so sorry,” Lauren said as the boy stood and rubbed his arm. “Where are you staying? The least I can do is pay for your dinner tonight. I’ll have my driver take you wherever you want to go.”
Long hair fell over the kid’s right eye. He glanced at Lauren warily, then shifted his gaze to Finn. And yeah, Finn was right, the kid was smart. He caught the warning in two seconds flat. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m fine. See?” He lifted his arm, still not looking away from Finn, and waved it in the air. “No harm, no foul.” He turned to his friends. “C’mon, guys. Let’s make tracks.”
The three took off across the sand before Lauren could say something to stop them. Good riddance, Finn thought, watching them go. Though in his current mood, pounding the shit-for-brains threesome was still damn tempting.
Lauren turned to face him, perched both hands on her hips and glared. Hard. “If you ever do that again, you’re fired.”
Finn cut his gaze fro the beach to her. To her skimpy bikini that hid nothing from view, to her flat stomach, high breasts and perfect magazine-cover face. She didn’t have a clue what those three yahoos had been thinking when they’d boxed her in. Autographs? Like hell. Those three saw what every other guy on this beach with a dick saw. They saw sex on a stick, dangled out in front of them like candy in front of a baby.
He wanted to lay into her, to point out the obvious, but something held him back. He was her bodyguard, not her boyfriend or her brother or even someone she had any kind of relationship with other than professional. And though she didn’t have to take his advice, she did have to listen to him when it came to her security.
He ground his teeth and worked to stay professional. Which, dammit, normally came easy, except around her. Nothing was ever easy around her. “Yer not my boss, Ms. Kauffman. If you have a problem with my performance, call my employer.”
Fire flashed in her baby blues before he turned and spotted Mick Hedley, his partner on this shitty assignment, standing on the steps leading up to the Hotel Copacabana’s packed pool. Hedley was decked out in jeans and a stupid-looking tropical print buttondown, the ever present toothpick in the country boy’s mouth. He waved his typical way to go, dumbass salute, but Finn barely cared. He was done for the day. Way past done.
He left Lauren standing in the sun, glaring at his back, no doubt. Technically, his shift had ended an hour ago. He wasn’t even supposed to be out here, but he’d told Mick not to relieve him until the shoot had broken for the day. What a mistake that had been.
Dammit, why couldn’t he keep his temper in check for ten damn minutes around the woman? After the show he’d just put on, he was pretty sure she’d be on the phone to Aegis within the hour, bitching about his ass. While it was true she hadn’t hired security for this shoot, her brother, antiquities dealer Peter Kauffman, had. No one much cared if she liked him or not so long as he got the job done and she got home in one piece. So what was the big fucking deal?
The deal was, he never should have agreed to this job. He’d met the woman numerous times at her brother’s gallery and each and every time she’d damn near scrambled his gray matter. He was thirty-five years old, for shit’s sake. He wasn’t supposed to get worked up over a woman, a model, a client, for crying out loud. He was a highly trained professional.
Professional dumbass.
“Thought that surfer dude was gonna cry,” Mick said as Finn drew close.
Finn shook off
his stupid conscience. “Woulda fucking made my day.”
“Boy looked like he was a good sandwich short of a picnic from here.” Mick’s Australian accent always seemed thicker at the end of the day, but then that happened with Finn’s Irish one, too.
The Aussie looked past Finn and sighed. As Aegis recruited from the most elite organizations around the world, that meant Finn’s counterparts came from just about everywhere. “Queen Bee’s heading in. Looks like I gotta bloody go. You catching dinner out tonight? Heard there’s a great seafood place downtown.”
Heading out into the nightlife of Acapulco’s never-ending party scene held about as much appeal as bashing his brains against a wall right now. “Not on your life. I’ll eat something in the pub. Then I want sleep. Fucking photographer’s dragging us to some stupid waterfall tomorrow.”
Mick smiled, shifted the toothpick in his mouth to the other side. “Thatinnhy I like you, Tierney. Always got that glass-is-half-full attitude. Catch ya on the flip side.”
Mick sauntered off toward the hotel and Lauren’s suite on the seventh floor. Knowing he needed to cool down, Finn shoved his hands in his pockets and stayed where he was as the crew packed up the remainder of the equipment and disappeared as well. The sun dropped low over the beach, casting warm shades of pink and red and gold across the sand. Tourists walked by and the water lapped at the sandy shore with a swish and sway that should have been relaxing but wasn’t.
He took a deep draw of the salty air, blew it out. His glass would be half full when this assignment was over. They’d been here five days already. One more and they were booked on a flight back to the States.
One more day. He could survive one more day with the sexy supermodel without losing his ever-loving mind. All he had to do was focus on staying in control and not toasting his temper.
Minutes passed. His cell vibrated. He pulled it from his pocket with a frown. The message from Mick dropped his spirits one more measly fucking notch: LOOKS LIKE THE PUB’S ON HOLD, IRELAND. CHANGE OF PLANS. THE QUEEN BEE WANTS TO SEE YOU. PRONTO.
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