by Madelon Smid
“I’m buried in day to day analysis, when I need to be using my time for product development. I planned to hire staff to take the pressure off, but then this happened and it didn’t seem wise to expose an innocent. But the work is still there, and you seem to have time on your hands. I’d happily pay you to take on some of my security checks, while you’re with me.” He named a figure.
Her lips parted at the high amount.
“What security level are you?”
When she told him, his eyebrows rose. “Impressive, but not as high as you’ll need. I’ll contact the Pentagon and get someone on it. That’s if you want the work.”
She appeared to mull the idea over. “How intensive is this work? I can’t be lost in software when protecting you is my prime obligation.”
“It’s routine checks, nothing deep enough to draw you in. But it will give you something to do besides wear the finish off my hardwood floors.”
She slapped the last piece of her pistol in place, loaded a cartridge, and tucked it in the back of her pants. “Why not? Security doesn’t pay nearly as well.”
She strolled toward him, the gentle curve of her hips swaying just enough to grab his attention. What have I gotten myself into? Now she’s going to be right beside me for hours, and I’m having a tough time with her across the room.
She caught the base of an office chair with her toe and pulled it over to his desk. Plunking herself down in it, she leaned closer to his screen. “Show me what you want me to do for you.”
Their eyes met as her words trailed away. She stiffened, her shoulders rising toward her ears. Josh read the signs of increasing tension. He chose to ignore the sexual innuendo in her statement and focus on the enthusiasm radiating out of her. Pleased, he pulled back to look her over. His smile held knowledge and appreciation. “Why, Duplessis, I do believe you have a computer geek hiding under all that glamour.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, her smile frigid. “Not a chance, Chandler. I’m just bored out of my gourd.”
She picked up the necessary protocol quickly, moved on to her own work station, and started in on the tasks at hand, as if she’d been doing them for months. It took three days to get her the necessary clearance to go into his programs and check for problems. By two days more, she’d taken over most of the work and freed up eighty percent of his time to write new software.
The negative in the situation was a real downer. Josh lived by his principles, and they said you didn’t make a play on a woman you employed. He couldn’t advance his theory and prove she wanted him as badly as he wanted her.
While he forced her to perform at the highest possible level of competence on the computer, she took it out on him in the gym.
****
“Pick it up, Chandler,” she yelled at him a week later, as she raced by. “Speed over strength is your best weapon,” she shouted, lapping him for the second time.
He stopped, braced his hands on his knees, and panted to get some oxygen into his air-tight lungs. His gut ached. His quads and glutes burned. The women would kill him yet.
She came up behind him, barely breathing hard. “What are you going to do if someone is shooting at you? Muscles don’t count in a gunfight.” She hacked another chunk out of his ego. He might be slim, burn up every calorie he ingested, but he was ripped. The female joggers on the track certainly thought he was worth a second look. He’d worked hard for the upper body strength that made him a good climber. You’d think a health nut like Cat could at least appreciate the effort.
“Wrestle him to the ground,” he muttered, already knowing she’d hit him with another negative.
“Good idea if you can do it with a clip full of bullets in you.”
She jogged beside him. A light sheen of sweat covered the silken thighs pumping up and down in his line of vision. He shook his head, straightened, pushed the dripping hair off his forehead, and smiled. He didn’t know why it worked, but he’d observed early on she got out of his face fast whenever he did. She scowled at him and took off like an arrow from a bow. Fascinating.
Her perfectly toned legs disappeared around the curve in the track. She’d wrapped them around every part of his body over the last weeks, except the part of him hungering to feel them. They were a formidable weapon, strong as a vise. He imagined them gleaming with perspiration, tightening around his hips, pulling him into her heated core. They would quiver with her need, lock, refuse to let him go.
Down, boy. Nylon running shorts in the middle of a busy gym, not the place to make an appearance. He wanted Cat so badly it amazed him he could get any work done. She featured in his dreams. They’d become a kaleidoscope of the erotic, tender, romantic, impassioned thoughts ever turning in his head.
****
“The hearing starts tomorrow.” Cat put her leg behind Josh’s knee and pushed him backward. She knocked him off his feet, elated by how difficult catching him unaware had become. He gritted his teeth, levered himself up, and then swept her legs out from under her. She fell sideways. Air rushed from her lungs with a loud humph. Her eyes widened in surprise, then delight.
She swiveled, scissored her legs around his waist as he sat up, pulling him onto his side. He grabbed her thighs with calloused fingers, sending shivers into her core. Shivers resulting not from the battle for supremacy, but from her desire to submit. She was tempted to let him drag her closer, cover her with his sweaty body, and bring this aching need inside her to completion. She cursed her unruly mind and released the hold, jumping to her feet and out of his reach.
Time worked against her, too much time with him, too much time to think and feel. She’d studied him like a perplexing puzzle over the past two weeks, absorbing everything about him. His top priority was his work. Creating new software to protect his government’s assets took precedence. Sitting boneless in his chair, his fingers tap danced on the keyboard for hours on end. He seemed to lose all touch with his body’s needs. His physical discipline was remarkable. He didn’t shift or stretch, eat or drink, didn’t even get up to pee. The man must have a bladder the size of the Washington Memorial, she concluded.
On the excuse it gave her better lines of sight, she’d moved her work station further down the loft, gaining much needed space from him. The many hours she spent each day completing the security checks he assigned didn’t prevent her from noticing the little things. She observed when his design went smoothly he leaned closer to his monitor and crooned his approval. When things didn’t go well, he took one hand off the keyboard and drummed the desktop with his fingers, while the other hand—his right hand—continued to tap the keys. Like water forced around rocks, the flow of numbers became intermittent instead of a rushing river.
The pundits and press lauded him as brilliant. The word didn’t come close to describing his genius. Her knowledge of security systems on computers told her he thought and designed at levels beyond her comprehension. Beyond anything contemplated by others in his field. She now understood his belief of see, imagine, go beyond, and tried to practice it herself, with only a small amount of success.
To her dismay, she learned he could go full out for ten hours, and then stop as if someone hit his off switch. His monitor would go blank, the chair would swivel in her direction. His gaze would track her, fix on her, and take in everything about her in seconds, from the rate of her heartbeat to her body temperature. He noticed what she wore, how she styled her hair, if she used makeup. The intensity of those gray eyes poured into her and made her want to fidget.
And he’d figured out what his smile did to her. He wielded it like a weapon when he wanted something, especially when he wanted her to back off. His mouth was beautifully shaped, the upper lip finely carved, the bottom full in the middle, narrowing toward the edges. When the corners of his mouth lifted, the fullness in the center created a look so pure and powerful it could melt through a concrete-reinforced steel vault in seconds. When Josh smiled, every female bit of her heated and oozed delight.
She love
d when he smiled at her. She dreaded her reaction.
Why could he shake her? She’d kept her cool under fire in a war zone. Her captors couldn’t break her. She’d killed assassins targeting her principals, fought her way through every experience with an icy head and heart. Pride helped her hide his effect on her. She used him as a practice sequence against the possibility of torture in the future. She would meet his eyes with a level, inquiring look, before going back to the task at hand—cleaning her guns, reading security reports from RG, screening news channels for anything that might have to do with Maddox, one of the agencies, or terrorist activity.
As she’d appropriated a chunk of his morning workout time for self-defense classes, he generally caught up with her at the end of the day in stretch shorts and a sports bra, sweaty, panting, strands from her ponytail sticking to her makeup free face. Most often, he would leap from his chair, like a hawk from a branch, and disappear into his bedroom. She’d hear the toilet in his private bath flush, water run, and he’d emerge in shorts and a T-shirt, cross to the kitchen, drink a glass of water in one go, and then head in her direction. He covered distances with ease because of his long legs and seemed to float toward her like a raptor riding air currents. She felt like the small and vulnerable game he’d dive on. Endangered, enthralled. She would usually conclude her work-out session, as he started his, heading for the shower. It made sense to take the time she needed when he was once more aware of his surroundings. But she left to protect herself, a vole hiding in the grass. He always gave her a considering look, as he settled onto whatever machine he’d chosen to begin with. The predator allowing the prey to escape.
Three weeks into her assignment, several outings to the climbing gym, many days of working side by side, hours of research and briefings later, she wondered if her insistence he constantly change up his routine was finally locked and loaded. He shut down his computer midafternoon. As usual he hit the head, but held a beer in his hand when he wandered back into the home gym and sank onto the bench. His keen gaze moved up and down her body. She finished her third set of pushups all too aware her nipples poked at her damp T-shirt.
“You taking a break?” she asked to get his attention off her.
“I’m finished for today.” His lazy gaze drifted from her breasts to her face. He took another swig of beer. “I have an appointment to get my hair cut.”
“Dammit, Josh. You can’t just announce things like that and expect it to happen. I need time to make the arrangements.”
“But you’re the one always telling me not to stick to a schedule, to do things out of order. You want to keep my life one mixed up merry-go-round.” He stood. “We have to leave in fifteen minutes. My driver will wait at the front.” He walked into his room and closed the door.
Cat raced for her room, furious with him for taking control. In record time, she showered, dressed in a flared skirt and matching silk top, stepped into strappy heels, and pulled her hair on top of her head in a straggly bun. She used the minimum of makeup, thankful she’d shaved her legs the night before. The mirror told her she looked decent. She settled for that and headed into the main room.
Josh stood by his personal touch pad. Sam’s face filled the screen, his voice filled the loft.
“Are you this grumpy because you’re not getting any, or getting so much you’re tired?”
Josh swung around, looked at Cat, and dropped the cover over the screen.
She crossed to the security panel, hiding her flushed face from Josh. Her presence kept him from seeing his women friends/lovers? Why hadn’t she factored that in? An active sex life was something you negotiated around with a principal. Because she’d been acting his lover, she’d forgotten he might want to be with a woman. An attractive, handsome man in his prime would be used to regular sex, if not a more intimate relationship.
Josh lifted the cover, frowning down at the face of his friend. “I’m grumpy because my friend has a big mouth and opens it at inopportune times.”
“Oops,” Sam chuckled. “Is Cat there?”
“My bodyguard, cum personal trainer, cum pretend lover is here—all of them seriously pissed off. Gotta go.”
Josh broke the connection and sauntered across the loft. “Ready?”
Pretending she hadn’t heard a thing. Cat punched in the last of the release codes and moved through the doorway ahead of Josh. She left him to secure the loft, while she reconnoitered the hallway, brought the elevator up, then headed for the stairwell. An incendiary device on Josh’s elevator would be an easy way to kill him.
The driver waited. They fell into their lover roles. He seemed a little more hands on than usual, throwing himself into the part by kissing the exposed nape of her neck. Inside the limo, he toyed with a plummeting curl near her ear.
They drove to the salon, an upscale establishment twenty minutes from his place. Cat recognized the brand, but couldn’t afford to give them her business. When the receptionist tried to get her to wait in the front salon, Cat twined herself around Josh.
“He’s desperate for my input,” she cooed, painting Creole into her tone. “He’d never forgive me if I didn’t come with him.”
“I can’t do it without her,” Josh agreed. While he aimed his smile in the direction of the receptionist, his eyes locked with Cat’s, dark with sexual innuendo. She sat down fast in an ergonomically designed chair, facing the door. Sam put ideas in his head. No, Sam just pushed the button on the ideas already in his head. And now they’re in mine, and I want to act on them.
Cat punched the thoughts deep and beat on them with a mental bar to keep them down. Josh stepped into the change room and propped the door open. At least he played by the rules when it came to her job, if not her libido. He shrugged out of his black, form-fitting T-shirt. She stared at the long expanse of smooth skin covering his back, the pronounced development of deltoids and pectorals when he turned. Her mouth ran short of saliva when he lifted his arms to slip on a Japanese kimono. His stomach muscles flexed. His jeans slid lower, revealing another two inches of bare skin. A feathery line of brown hair disappeared under the denim waistband. He closed the robe, unaware of her fixed attention, she prayed.
Settled in the styling chair after a luxurious shampoo and scalp massage, Josh tracked Cat in the mirror. While he answered questions, the stylist asked about length and shaping, he kept his gaze fixed on his bodyguard, his eyebrow raised in silent inquiry.
What? What do you want from me? She queried, her gold-flecked eyes flashing the question.
His lips curved up, his eyes softened sending a shaft of warmth and reassurance through her. She hated it when he made nice. She fell apart faster, muscling the stones of her protective wall aside with her own hands.
“So when do you put the streaks in, before or after the cut,” she asked. It startled him enough to make him blink and look at the stylist.
“What streaks? Did you want highlights added?” The stylist sifted her fingers through the silken strands.
Cat fought off the instinct to take her to the floor. “The highlights,” she wiggled her fingers over his head. “You know, the gold streaks.”
“Josh doesn’t streak his hair. Those are natural, bleached out by the sun.”
Josh grinned at her, absorbing her chagrin with obvious delight.
“What sunlight?” she growled. “He barely leaves his cave. How’s he supposed to get sunlight?”
“Shoushou.” He borrowed her endearment, sending her blood pressure into the danger zone. “I used to get out a lot more before you came into my life.”
“Sugar, I wouldn’t want you to give up anything you like doing for me.” She pursed her lips and blew him a kiss.
“But the things I do with you are so rewarding.” He pursed his lips back at her, his eyes glinted.
“I’ll just get a magazine to read.” She beat a hasty retreat from the smaller cubicle to the large salon, grabbed the first magazine at hand, and fanned herself with it. Damn the man, he had her on the run
. Leisurely, he rode the sexual currents wafting between them, circling ever closer, until the air pulsated with the beat of his knowledge. Without effort, he pulled up, leaving her trapped in the moment.
“May I have a glass of water,” she croaked in the direction of the receptionist.
It took the length of Josh’s cut, blow dry, and style to gain back control and focus on the important task of guarding him. She wanted him up against her, pounding into her, bringing satisfaction, satiation.
Oh, Bondye, I’m doing it again. If I don’t keep my mind on the job, I’ll have to quit. The thought of leaving while he faced danger straightened her out faster than a threat from RG. When Josh sauntered out of the dressing room, a professional, hard-eyed, hard-assed bodyguard waited.
Josh took one look at her face and shut down like a computer in sleep mode. They travelled back to his loft in silence.
Chapter Four
“The hearing starts tomorrow.” She reminded him again. It seemed like days, rather than hours since she’d first raised the subject.
“I’m aware.” He crossed immediately to his touchpad and started scrolling.
“So we need to go over the schematics, sort out our story around my presence, and you need to brief me on what they’ll be asking you, how you’ll answer and anything else I need to know to act as your P.A. slash live-in girlfriend.”
“We’ve been over the schematics of the Dirksen Building and every other part of the Senate Office building you think I’ll visit…” He paused, looked at her determined jaw. “…and we’ll do it one more time, just to be sure.” He exhaled loudly, gave her a quick glance, and went back to his emails, as if she asked too much.
“You’re going into the hearing as my P.A. even if half of D.C. thinks we’re sleeping together, so you just need to act efficient and distant—oh, you won’t need to act.” He jabbed. “Just be yourself, and don’t make it obvious you’re checking out the place.”
Cat buried the small pain from his verbal punch. “RG will have eyes on the room and outside the building before we enter and when we exit. I’ll be in radio contact with two of his agents at all times.”