Книга - Sex, Lies and Designer Shoes

Sex, Lies and Designer Shoes
Kimberly Van Meter


Guarding her body…CoCo Abelli is the last woman Rian Dalton wants to protect. A spoiled heiress to a designer shoe empire with a reputation for hard partying and getting into trouble? Nope, Rian wants nothing to do with CoCo's kind of trouble. Especially when she has a body designed to make grown men fall to their knees…Rian is rude and hostile, and CoCo can't resist baiting him—especially with her, uh, assets. When their sparring suddenly erupts into one naughtily hot night, CoCo wonders if maybe this “bodyguard” thing might be okay after all. Until someone tries to kill her. Now Rian has compromised himself, and there's only one way to put distance between CoCo and her killers…by putting himself in the most dangerous position of all!







Guarding her body...

CoCo Abelli is the last woman Rian Dalton wants to protect. A spoiled heiress to a designer shoe empire with a reputation for hard partying and getting into trouble? Nope, Rian wants nothing to do with CoCo’s kind of trouble. Especially when she has a body designed to make grown men fall to their knees...

Rian is rude and hostile, and CoCo can’t resist baiting him—especially with her, uh, assets. When their sparring suddenly erupts into one naughtily hot night, CoCo wonders if maybe this “bodyguard” thing might be okay after all. Until someone tries to kill her. Now Rian has compromised himself, and there’s only one way to put distance between CoCo and her killers...by putting himself in the most dangerous position of all!


“What are you doing?”

The towel was barely larger than a hand towel and hardly covered CoCo, but she didn’t care.

“Why aren’t you dressed?” Rian asked, sitting up straight as an arrow, his eyes wide.

“I’m going out tonight. If you want to babysit me, fine, then you’re going to have do it while I’m having some fun.”

“Like hell you are. Now get some clothes on,” he growled, and she taunted him with a smile.

“What? You don’t like me in my towel? Is there something wrong?” she asked coyly, enjoying the sudden flush in his cheeks as she toyed with him. “I wonder what would happen if I did...this?” Then in a deliberate move she dropped the towel to the floor, and she could see Rian trying to swallow.

That’s right, Rian Dalton...two can play games, but only one is going to win.

Me.


Dear Reader (#ulink_31e2b999-dc97-55ed-ba38-5ee482ea7ff1),

I love writing stories with characters who have a lot of growing to do. CoCo and Rian were two people who just needed that little push to become the best versions of themselves. And sometimes the best way to create change is to apply a whole lotta heat!

I had fun playing with these two characters and putting them in all sorts of trouble for the sake of a happily-ever-after, and I hope you do, too. This was my first two-book series with Blaze and I think I’ve found a fun new place to hang out. If you missed my first Blaze novel, The Hottest Ticket in Town, featuring Kane Dalton, you might want to check that one out, too!

Hearing from readers is a special joy. You can email me at alexandria2772@hotmail.com, or find me at kimberlyvanmeter.com (http://www.kimberlyvanmeter.com) or facebook.com/kim.vanmeter.37 (http://www.facebook.com/kim.vanmeter.37). Or mail me at PO Box 2210, Oakdale, CA 95361.

Happy reading!

Kimberly


Sex, Lies and Designer Shoes

Kimberly Van Meter






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


KIMBERLY VAN METER wrote her first book at sixteen and finally achieved publication in December 2006. She writes for the Harlequin Superromance, Blaze and Romantic Suspense lines. She and her husband of seventeen years have three children, three cats and always a houseful of friends, family and fun.


To all the people still living under the umbrella of others’ expectations...step out. Don’t be afraid to be who you are. An original is always worth more than a copy.


Contents

Cover (#u23f477f9-7a9a-5f00-b71e-6130bd78081b)

Back Cover Text (#u795b1e30-5e62-5ad7-bd11-0f4d31fb84d3)

Introduction (#u8391d1be-0055-5909-adb2-31db080f9324)

Dear Reader (#ulink_b707c854-cd28-5125-b7da-a5a1db58be1e)

Title Page (#u171669c9-5bc6-5cc6-935e-ccd63aff32d8)

About the Author (#u9a19ae0c-6985-5a78-b246-c823429d6fae)

Dedication (#u035ec0a6-17f3-5d5f-9acc-cf526c7c6520)

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1 (#ulink_f4c8fcf4-7ccb-5900-ae8a-fba066b007c1)

RIAN DALTON, CO-OWNER of Elite Protection Services, stared at the offer on the table and couldn’t believe he was about to say this but the fact was, it wasn’t enough to put up with CoCo Abelli. The hot-blooded heiress was a common enough sight in all the trendy Los Angeles clubs and the paparazzi loved catching her falling on her ass, slipping a nip or otherwise acting like the wild child she was.

And Rian was smart enough to steer clear of that hot mess. He regarded the older man awaiting his answer and said without regret, “Sorry, I can’t take your money. You need someone who can do the job without bias and frankly, I know enough about CoCo to know that I don’t want that headache—no matter how much money is put on the table. I can recommend a few highly qualified alternatives if you’d like...”

“I don’t want second best for my daughter,” Enzo Abelli, a paunchy man in a finely tailored suit, said in a thick Italian accent, his jowls jiggling as he shook his head. “You are the best. So I hire you. No exceptions.”

“I’m flattered but I’m respectfully declining. The fact is, CoCo is the worst sort of client—determined to do the exact opposite of what I tell her to do for her own safety—it’s a headache I don’t need.” Rian was usually the charmer, the schmoozer of the two Dalton brothers, but he was taking a page from Kane’s playbook by going with the blunt approach. He fished out his phone, prepared to give the man some digits, but Enzo wasn’t finished.

“She is my only child. Perhaps I have indulged her too much. She is willful, spoiled to a fault, but that is not her fault. She has a good heart. Someone is trying to use my love for her against me. They are threatening to kill her if I do not give in to their demands. Without CoCo, everything I’ve worked for means nothing. I would pay any sum you desire if you would agree to take my case.”

Rian wanted to shut the man down again but there was something about the sincerity in the older man’s voice that tugged at his sense of right and wrong. The man—a billionaire three times over—was simply a father trying to protect his daughter. Rian didn’t know what it was like to have a father who gave a damn about his kids—his own father had been a miserable son of a bitch who’d nearly killed him on several occasions. Hell, if it hadn’t been for Kane, he’d probably be dead. So, hearing the desperation in Enzo’s voice did something to a long-buried childhood wish that his father had been decent.

Sensing Rian was backsliding, Enzo pushed a little harder. “The FBI are working to find this miscreant and it should only take a few days, a week at the most, to end this nightmare. Surely you can take on a week? I would happily make it worth your while.”

A week with CoCo? That was a tall order. Enzo would have to throw in a yacht.

It wasn’t only that she was a handful and would likely make him want to punch a wall a few times, but CoCo was a drop-dead gorgeous blonde with a body that always turned heads—including his own.

He’d been at the same clubs, winding down, when he’d seen her the first time, all legs and hips, looking like a traffic violation in her tight dress and stiletto heels, and for a split second, he’d entertained the idea of introducing himself. But then he’d recognized her from the tabloids and he’d steered clear. The last thing the business needed was bad press from hanging out with the wrong people. That included CoCo and her little posse.

Just politely let the old guy down and chalk this one up to an unfortunate conflict of interest, the voice of reason told him but damn, if his mouth didn’t start moving with its own agenda. “A week at the most?” Rian repeated and Enzo nodded vigorously. “All right. I can commit to a week. Anything after that, we’ll have to find something else.”

“Of course, of course,” Enzo said, agreeing quickly. “Thank you, Mr. Dalton.”

“Well, don’t thank me yet. You haven’t heard my terms. I hate to be the bearer of bad news but your daughter isn’t known for following rules. And she’s not going to like the rules I put down for her safety. It’s your job to ensure that she listens, otherwise you’re throwing good money after bad.”

“She’s stubborn but I will impress upon her the gravity of the situation,” Enzo assured Rian. “She’s young and impetuous but she’s very bright. She will understand that this is necessary for her protection.”

Will she? Parents were usually blind to their kids’ shortcomings. If Enzo had half an idea of the shit his daughter was into, he’d probably have a heart attack. But that wasn’t Rian’s burden. He rose and shook Enzo’s hand. The man, though nearing seventy-five, was robust and healthy, which probably explained why he was always seen squiring about women younger than his daughter. Money and fame—the greatest aphrodisiacs on the planet. “I’ll do my best to keep Miss Abelli safe,” he told Enzo. “By any means possible.”

“You’re a good man,” Enzo said, pumping Rian’s hand vigorously. “A good man, indeed. I will have the money wired to your account if you’ll just provide the details to my manager.”

Rian nodded and let himself out of the West Coast mansion owned by the Abelli family and wondered if he’d just sold his soul to the devil for a metric ton of cash.

Well, one way to find out.

* * *

“I LOVE LA,” CoCo Abelli murmured as she stood out on the balcony of her mother’s Malibu mansion, enjoying the oceanfront view of the palatial home. “Even the smog is glorious.”

“You’re cracked in the head,” quipped her friend Stella Richards as she lounged on the bed, idly thumbing through a magazine. “Breathe that stuff long enough and your lungs will stop working. I should know—I think I have a permanent prescription for my inhaler.”

CoCo ignored Stella and returned inside, already bored. She’d been in town for all of a week and everything thus far had been deadly dull. If she’d wanted peace and quiet, she would’ve stayed in Italy. “My mother is gone for a few months. Let’s throw a party.”

Stella perked up as CoCo knew she would. “Go on. I’m listening.”

“I’m thinking, hire a DJ, get a mixologist, a little security to watch the gate...”

“God, yes, we don’t need any crashers. Remember that last party when that loser production assistant made his way in? Kept pestering everyone to look at his script. As if anyone comes to a CoCo Abelli party to read.” Stella rolled her eyes and climbed from the bed to walk into Azalea’s huge walk-in closet. “Your mother has impeccable taste,” she said with envy, grabbing a pair of heels. “Giuseppe Zanotti, Limited Edition, I could die. It’s not fair that your mother gets first dibs on designer shoes just because your dad is a famous shoemaker. Honestly, they’re not even married anymore. That’s quite a perk.”

CoCo shrugged. “Azalea knows how to negotiate.” She snapped her fingers to get Stella’s attention. “Back to the important stuff—the party. Should we go with a theme? Something fun?”

“I don’t know, themes are so overrated unless it’s Halloween or Christmas, you know?” Stella said, already bored as she replaced the shoes and exited the closet. “Did your mom leave her jewelry behind?”

“Not the good stuff.”

“Figures. Although that rock she’s sporting now...does it give her finger a cramp from wearing it all day? It’s almost ridiculous.”

CoCo didn’t want to talk about her mother. Their relationship was strained on most days and now that she was married to a man CoCo found tedious and overbearing at the same time, they really had nothing productive to say to one another.

Although born in Milan, CoCo split her time between Europe and California—specifically, Los Angeles. And she really did love LA. Everything was wild and unbridled here, wealth was celebrated and she always found a good time running around the clubs, hanging out with movie stars.

It wasn’t that Italy didn’t have wealth—some of the wealthiest people in the world called Milan home—but it wasn’t flaunted with opulent awareness as it was in the City of Angels. The obscenity of riches fascinated CoCo, as did the knowledge that in Los Angeles, bad girls got noticed and sometimes rewarded for their bad behavior, rather than chastised and hidden away for a month until they promised to behave themselves. European countries were far more reserved, it seemed, when it came to breaking rules, and CoCo found that boring.

Thankfully, when her mother divorced Enzo, Azalea had been crafty enough to wrangle a monstrous settlement out of her older ex-husband and thus CoCo had always split her time between continents without any discernible change in lifestyle.

And since her mother was often out of the country—such as right now—that meant CoCo had the run of her mother’s Malibu mansion.

And there was no better place to have a raging party than a huge house with private beach access.

“Let’s invite Guillermo to DJ,” Stella suggested until CoCo made a face. “Oh, c’mon, just because you two hooked up and he blabbed about it doesn’t mean he can’t spin a mean set and you know it. Besides, he’s the best and he always comes with Molly.”

Molly, the street nickname for ecstasy, was always invited to a raging Hollywood-style party. The twentysomething crowd just didn’t party without it. And it would be convenient if she knew exactly who was giving it out. Sort of like crowd control.

“I suppose that is a point in his favor,” CoCo agreed, slowly warming to the suggestion. “But do not let me sleep with him. He may be good in the sack but he’s as bad as a girl name-dropping to get into a club. He’s got the loosest lips I’ve ever seen. And frankly, hooking up with him had been out of circumstance, not an extreme attraction, you know?”

“I get it. Slim pickings that night. Do you remember who I went home with that night?” Stella shuddered. “Rafe Dirk—otherwise known as The Dick—and not because he’s well-endowed. Much to my extreme displeasure. He didn’t even pay for my cab afterward!”

“What a dick.” CoCo laughed. “Okay, pinkie promise that we go home with only those who have been previously approved. Do you have a target?”

Stella turned sly at the prospect of sharing. “You first.”

“Chicken.” CoCo bounced onto the bed with a grin. “Fine. I’m actually thinking of hooking up with Charlie Rogers... He’s pretty cute and he’s a great dancer, which means he knows how to move, if you know what I mean.”

Stella gasped in total shock. “Are you kidding me? I hate to burst your bubble but he’s totally gay. Sorry, babe.”

“Are you sure?” CoCo asked. Stella nodded. “Well, that sucks,” she said, sharply disappointed.

She sighed and flounced back on the bed, her plan totally derailed until Stella said, “Don’t worry, I have someone you might like. Let’s just focus on the party and then we’ll worry about who we’re shagging later. Those things should really happen organically, right?”

“I guess,” CoCo grumbled as she rose on her elbows, frowning. “Wait a minute...you never said who you were targeting.”

Stella grinned with a wink. “I know. It’s a secret. Now, c’mon, let’s get the party going. We have social media to post, a caterer to hire, a mixologist to find and a ton of other details to coordinate in eight short hours.”

CoCo, happy to have something to look forward to, allowed Stella to drag her from the room. And just like that...everything was looking up.


2 (#ulink_50bdb6cf-2800-5c7e-a659-df2adde4ffcb)

AFTER FLASHING HIS CREDENTIALS, Rian drove through the gates of the Malibu mansion and gave his keys to the valet, shaking his head at the opulence of having a valet at a private party, but hey, this was LA and that was the norm. Having grown up dirt poor, sometimes the habits of the insanely wealthy baffled him. It was like landing on an alien planet and finding out all the inhabitants talked out of their butts. Well, that actually happened a lot in Hollywood, he thought with a private chuckle.

Music throbbed with an electric beat that vibrated his bones and he wondered how many complaints CoCo racked up with one of her parties. She was definitely violating the noise ordinance with that crap assaulting his ears. He wound his way through the teeming masses and ignored the drunken solicitations from the myriad of messed-up girls and made his way outside, looking for CoCo. He found her easily, the center of attention, with a group of stylish, nearly naked people dancing to the music from the DJ, who was moving to his own beat as he mixed music. Rian recognized the DJ, Guillermo—otherwise known as The Dealer in certain circles—and wondered how the guy didn’t have a rap sheet a mile long for all the shit he was into. He had a feeling that CoCo wasn’t going to go quietly into his protection and he didn’t want to draw unnecessary attention to himself so he decided the best way to handle the situation would be to get her alone.

And there was one way that usually worked.

Rian made his way to CoCo, wearing his confidence like an expensive suit. Women like CoCo responded to that alpha vibe even if they tried to pretend otherwise, at least that’s what experience told him so that’s what he was going with.

Walking straight up to her, ignoring the curious stares and the murmurs, he snagged CoCo’s attention with a mesmerizing look that never failed to catch the ladies. Kane liked to call it Rian’s “C’mere, girl” look and never missed an opportunity to razz him about it, but so far it’d served him well, and who was he to argue with success?

If Rian were a different kind of man and CoCo wasn’t part of the job, he might be all over that sizzling Italian number. She was enough to make a man change his religion but Rian knew that beyond that model face and body was a headache and a half, and he didn’t deal in drama.

CoCo’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed with interest as she boldly appraised his body, the corners of her lush mouth tilting in an intrigued smile as he went straight to her. “Some party,” he said by way of hello.

“And you are?” she asked, lifting one perfectly groomed eyebrow.

He leaned in, catching a whiff of her delicate perfume, and answered, “The man you’re going home with,” and her amused laughter tickled his insides.

“It’s my house, so I’m not going home with anyone,” she said, moving away with a sly grin that bordered on flirtatious, glancing over her shoulder as she added, “But maybe if you’re lucky, you can stay, country boy.”

And then she was gone, melting into the crowd, leaving him and his girl-gettin’ smile behind. Well, hot damn. That hadn’t worked as well as he’d hoped. Time for plan B, though admittedly, plan B...was a lot less fun.

He was also willing to bet CoCo wouldn’t like plan B at all.

* * *

AS FAR AS hosting parties went, CoCo held the distinction for holding the best, and this one was no exception, but for some reason she was bored out of her mind and wished everyone would just go home already. However, that wasn’t likely to happen. It was only midnight and it was just getting rowdier. She surveyed the writhing masses grinding to the beat and she wondered if there was anything left to excite her. Poor rich-girl problems. She wanted to get away from the noise, and considered leaving altogether, but then she didn’t trust all these people in her mother’s home without some sort of supervision and opted instead to retreat to a less crowded area of the house.

As she pushed past the people clogging the entryways, she thought of the stranger who’d managed to gain entrance into the party. It was possible he was a friend of someone she’d invited but his was a face she wouldn’t have forgotten.

It wasn’t often that a guy managed to catch CoCo’s attention like that and it’d taken every ounce of self-control she had not to take the bait. Talk about a killer smile, and those eyes! He was the hottest thing she’d seen in LA thus far and that was saying a lot. CoCo ran in elite circles where handsome and rich were the norm.

But there’d been something rugged about the man, even though he wore a tailored suit and flashed a designer watch. Her father had always told her that you could tell a lot about a man by his watch and his shoes. Considering her father was a world-renowned Italian shoe designer, she took his word to heart. She wound her way past the throng of people, making her way to the kitchen to grab a bottled water and to escape the craziness for just a minute.

“CoCo, baby, there you are, I’ve been looking for that sweet ass of yours all night.”

CoCo turned in time for Drake Pennington to drape himself over her as if she were his own personal coatrack, and she rolled her eyes in irritation at the man’s drunken pawing. Sleep with a man once and he thinks he has the right to a booty call anytime he’s horny. She removed Drake’s arm with a scowl. “Go somewhere and sober up,” she said, trying to extricate herself from his grip as he pulled her to him. “It was a onetime thing and not likely to be offered again,” she told him with distaste.

“Don’t be like that, CoCo,” he chastised her as he tried to nuzzle her neck, abrading her tender skin with his chin stubble. “You and I are like two mirroring souls, destiny and all that. It’s a shame to let all that hot tail go to waste, baby. I got what you need right here.”

“Poetic and total shit. You’re drunk. Let me go,” she said. “Don’t make me toss you out. I’m in no mood for your crap tonight.”

Drake ignored her threat and squeezed her ass, eliciting a squeak of alarm as he pressed her against the stainless-steel refrigerator. “Here’s how I see this going down... You and I are going to go to your room for a little privacy and we’re going to relive some good times. Sound like a plan?”

“Sounds like a nightmare. You’re a selfish lover and you slobber like a dog,” she said coolly, trying to remain calm even though Drake was freaking her out. Maybe she’d underestimated Drake’s feelings for her. Wouldn’t be the first time a man fell in love with her after sex.

She pushed at him but he stuck like glue, the alcohol dulling his good sense. “You’re embarrassing yourself,” she said, mildly alarmed that Drake seemed deaf to her blatant answer of hell no. “Drake, stop it.” But he continued to nuzzle her neck and slobber all over her as if she were an ice cream cone, which only brought back the unfortunate memory of sleeping with him. What had she been thinking? If she could go back in time... She shoved at him again, trying to put some space between them. “What are you doing, you idiot! I swear I’ll scream and bring this whole party rushing in if you don’t stop.”

“Now you’re talking. Let’s do it in front of everyone. Kinky!”

Ugh! What a pervert! Was she going to have to scream to get him off her? Why’d she let Stella invite him? CoCo kicked up her struggle but just as she opened her mouth to yell for help, Drake was suddenly ripped away from her and tossed to the floor like a rag doll, and CoCo found herself staring at the hot stranger she’d talked to earlier.

“You really should pick better friends,” he said, picking Drake up from the floor and manhandling him straight to the door before tossing him out. “Let him sleep it off on the front lawn.”

Oh, thank God. That could’ve been embarrassing. CoCo’s relief was short-lived as she realized he’d just vaguely insulted her. “Excuse me?” she bristled. “Do I even know you? How’d you get into my party?”

“You have a funny way of showing gratitude,” he said. “A simple thank-you would be just fine.”

“I don’t recall asking for your help. I can handle Drake on my own. He’s basically harmless.”

“Yeah, it looked like you were doing a bang-up job of handling things. Tell me, at what point were you going to admit that you were in over your head? About the point when he started ripping your clothes off?”

“Don’t be such an alarmist. That wouldn’t have happened. Drake isn’t a rapey kind of guy.”

“Could’ve fooled me. In my world, when a woman says no, it means exactly that. Didn’t seem that your friend was getting the message.”

Her cheeks burned at the mere possibility that Drake might’ve taken things too far. Drake was pretty drunk. He probably wouldn’t even remember getting tossed outside.

“Still choking on that thank-you?”

Smart-ass. “If I had something to be thankful for, I wouldn’t have a problem saying it. But as I said, I had things under control,” she maintained stubbornly, even if there was a niggling doubt that maybe Drake might’ve been a little too jacked up to listen to reason. “However, since you seem stuck on the need to hear it...thanks for handling a mildly embarrassing situation,” she said stiffly. “Now answer my question... Just who are you?”

He sighed as if she’d just responded exactly as expected and found it disappointing, then said, “Glad you asked.” He produced credentials and a business card, which she accepted with open confusion. Elite Protection Services, Rian Dalton. She regarded him with a faint frown as he continued. “Your father has hired me to watch over you for the next couple of days while the FBI figures out who’s been threatening him.”

She returned the card with an irritated exhale. “Chill out on the panic button. Your services aren’t required. I don’t need a babysitter. My father is just being overly protective.”

“Your father started receiving death threats about a week ago. In the interest of your safety, your father has hired me to make sure that no one gets any bright ideas about kidnapping his only heir for ransom.”

“As if that would happen,” CoCo said, bored. “People don’t get kidnapped. That happens on television and in the movies but not in real life.”

“And here I thought you were smarter than that but apparently, you’re pretty comfortable with the blonde stereotype.”

She stared. Okay, that was definitely an insult. What a jerk. When her father had told her about the threats, she’d tried to reassure him that it was nothing but he’d been so freaked out. Now it seemed she should’ve worked harder to talk some sense into him. But first, she needed to send this prick packing. “As I said, your services aren’t required. Thank you for your assistance earlier but I think we’re done here.”

“I don’t work for you, sassy pants. I work for your father.”

“Well, I’ll call my father tomorrow and let him know that I can take care of myself.”

“Fine by me, but until then, I’m your shadow.”

She narrowed her gaze. “And just what does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think it means.”

CoCo shook her head. There was no way she was going to be trailed by this man for the next few days. He was already stomping on her nerves. “That’s not going to happen. I refuse. What then?”

“Then the next few days will be awkward and uncomfortable for us both. The fact is, your daddy paid me a shit-ton of money to watch over your spoiled ass and, pardon me, frankly I’m not sure you’re worth the money, but it’s his dime so here I stay.”

“How dare you!” She’d never been so boldly dissed in her life and she didn’t like it. “You don’t have the right to talk to me like that.”

Rian smirked. “Yeah, I call ’em as I see ’em and that’s a fact. I know all about you, CoCo Abelli. For that matter, who doesn’t? You’re a spoiled heiress with daddy issues and you’re always in the spotlight for doing something dumb. Usually getting drunk and falling all over yourself or something like that. Made quite a reputation for yourself and, to be honest, I didn’t want this job. In fact, I tried to refuse, but your daddy seems to think that his daughter deserves the best so here I am. Far be it from me to refuse good money even if I think it’s a fool’s errand. So do us both a favor and march your butt into your room and stay there for the rest of the night, because this party is a security nightmare. You don’t really think all these people are your friends, right?”

CoCo could only stare. No one spoke to her like that. No one! And it hurt. She was more than just a paparazzi payday. “Are you finished?” she asked. When Rian simply folded his arms across his chest and waited, she stared him down with all the European disdain she had flowing through her veins and said, “Not only are you finished with this job... I’m going to see to it that you never work in this town again.”

“Good luck, honey. Better people than you have tried—and failed. But don’t do me no favors. Being let go from this detail would be the biggest blessing of the year.”

What could she say to that? He wasn’t pulling any punches and she had no doubt that he was being truthful. He truly didn’t want the job, which only made her feel like a boil on someone’s butt. She wasn’t going to win any arguments with him at the moment and she wasn’t going to waste her time trying, especially when she was a bit dulled from all the alcohol. “I won’t lower myself to your level, Mr. Dalton,” she said icily. “Stay if you choose but I am not going to my room like some child. I have people to entertain.”

“Ah, yes, the nip-slip hasn’t quite occurred yet, right? Don’t want to miss out on that.”

She glared. “Screw you.”

“No, thanks. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

Her blood boiled but she wasn’t about to make a scene. Lifting her chin, she turned on her heel and deliberately left him behind. She had to get away from that man. What was her father thinking hiring a thug like him?

She went straight to the bar and ordered a whiskey sour. She’d just managed to down it when Stella sidled up to her, nearly falling down drunk. “Who was that hottie you were talking to in the kitchen?” she slurred. “He’s the freshest meat in this place. I call dibs!”

“You can have him,” CoCo muttered even though she knew Stella wouldn’t remember a thing they were saying. She was nearly at puke level.

“Have you seen Drake? He was looking for you. You two are so cute together...”

“Drake is a slime,” she said, her thoughts still centered on Rian and how she’d like to wipe that smirk off his smug face. Stella giggled and CoCo wished her friend were at least halfway sober so she could tell her what’d happened, but she knew it was pointless to try to get Stella to focus right now. “Are you staying here tonight?” she asked.

“Only if I don’t get lucky,” Stella answered with a drunken giggle, swiveling around to survey the crowd with bleary eyes. “Now, where did Mr. Hottie run off to?”

She ought to sic Stella on Rian. That ought to keep him busy for a bit. But even as the uncharitable thought raced through her mind, she discarded it. The last thing she needed was Stella hooking up with the man her father had hired to protect her. It was bad enough he was here at all, no sense in making things worse.

Besides, if CoCo wasn’t getting lucky—neither was her jerk of a bodyguard.


3 (#ulink_f55c19fb-f306-511d-bfe3-d390b0a1fdb2)

HE PROBABLY SHOULDN’T have come down so hard on her—she was the client’s daughter after all. If Kane were here, he’d knock him in the head for running his mouth when he ought to keep it shut, but there was something about the woman that unhinged his jaw.

He wasn’t a stranger to spoiled heiresses but CoCo Abelli took the ever-loving cake. The girl wouldn’t know how to be grateful if someone had saved her life, which is exactly what her father was trying to do. Personally, Rian thought Enzo ought to cut his losses with this one, because she was clearly ruined beyond repair. The only thing CoCo cared about was herself or the next party. Maybe it would do her some good to have a little scare. But that wasn’t his place. Maybe with some luck CoCo would convince her father that his services weren’t needed and he could go on with his life. One could hope.

Throughout the night he kept an eye on CoCo as she partied until the wee hours of the morning, as if purposefully thumbing her nose at him, and by the time the sun rose and everyone had left Rian felt as wrung out as he had during a night watch in Afghanistan. Watching over this girl would be no picnic.

CoCo, her eyes red from a night of hard alcohol and who knew what else, ignored Rian and stumbled to her bed. He rounded up the rest of the stragglers and booted them from the house, finally able to breathe a little easier. The Malibu beach house wasn’t the most secure location. Too many points of entry to defend. If someone were looking to kidnap CoCo, they could practically waltz in and snatch her without breaking a sweat. So that meant they weren’t staying here for the next few days. He figured that news was going to go over like a turd in a punch bowl. He kind of relished the idea of giving her that news. He got the impression not many people told CoCo what to do and when. That was her problem. She’d been indulged way too much in her life. Time for a reality check. The fact that she didn’t believe she was in any danger went to show just how naive she was.

He did another perimeter check and secured all the doors and then decided to take a catnap. He was a light sleeper by nature but his years in combat had trained him to sleep with one eye open. If anyone tried to get past him, he would know it.

He rarely dreamed or if he did he didn’t remember the details. Sometimes when he woke he was left with a hazy idea that he’d dreamed of something but most times it was just a blank canvas. So why did he have the most vivid dream of CoCo? Sun-bronzed skin, a tiny bikini and that achingly beautiful body—correction, it wasn’t a dream, it was a nightmare. He didn’t want to be dreaming of CoCo like that. He didn’t want to think of her in any way except as an annoying client. It was bad business to mess around with the clients.

After about two hours Rian’s cell phone jerked him awake and he saw that it was Kane.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“I wanted to check and see how things are going with our newest client. I figured you were on the job last night. Everything cool?”

“I guess you could say that. She’s a nightmare just as I expected. I chased off some guy mauling her in the kitchen and did I get an ounce of thanks? No. She’s an ungrateful bitch and frankly, I’m thinking that giant payday wasn’t nearly enough. Maybe I can tack on a handling fee for my pain and suffering.”

“I thought you said that you tried to refuse the job.”

“I did. I’m just cranky from getting two hours of sleep.”

“You always were grouchy if you didn’t get your full eight hours. You’re such a prima donna. Do you have a plan for the next couple of days?”

“Try not to kill the woman myself?”

“Come on now, I’m serious. The Abelli account is a pretty big payday. Just treat it like any other.”

Rian didn’t need his big brother lecturing him. “This isn’t my first rodeo. I know what I’m doing. If I need your help, I’ll ask for it.”

“Well, aren’t you a bowl of cherries this morning? Get yourself together. Act professional. So what if she’s not the kind of person you want to go have lunch with. That’s probably a good thing—I’ve seen pictures of her. She’s not hard on the eyes. The last thing I need is you messing around with a client because she’s pretty.”

Rian scowled. “Now you’re just talking out of your ass. You know I don’t do that. If you don’t have anything worthwhile to add, I’m going to go.”

“Go get some coffee, you mean grouch. It’s just for a few days. You can handle this. Laci says hi,” he added and Rian grumbled but replied in kind.

His brother had married country superstar Laci McCall, but they’d known her before she’d hit it big and he’d always thought Laci was the best of people. How his brother managed to snag that diamond, he’d never know. Aw, hell, he was just being a surly jerk. Kane and Laci were the real deal and he knew it. If he weren’t in such a foul mood, he’d admit that Kane was the luckiest son of a bitch alive.

“Do you need any help with this case?” Kane asked, breaking into Rian’s thoughts.

“No, I’m good. Like you said, it’s just a few days. I think I can handle Miss Sassy Pants for that amount of time. Anything longer and I might need backup.”

“You got it.”

Rian clicked off and sighed. His head throbbed and the sunlight stabbing him in the eyeballs wasn’t helping any. He needed coffee and he needed it fast. After a quick check on CoCo, he found her dead to the world, lightly snoring and drooling on her pillow. Ha! If he were an asshole, he’d snap a pic of that and post it to social media. Instead he returned to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

Of course, as luck would have it, no simple coffee machine around. Just one of those fancy single-cup coffee things that he couldn’t make heads or tails of, which meant he had to make do with a glass of iced tea that he managed to make on the fly. It was better than nothing but it didn’t compare to the kind of brew he needed to wake up completely.

He was midway through the glass when CoCo stumbled in, bleary-eyed and looking like something the cat dragged in, and he couldn’t stop the smirk that followed.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked sourly, going to that fancy machine and popping in a pod on autopilot, because he was certain she could barely see two steps in front of her. “Why are you still here?”

“I told you why I’m here,” he answered, more amused than he should be to see her hungover. He saw an opportunity to get some coffee and acted on it. “How about a truce?” he suggested and she stopped to stare at him.

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, we got off on the wrong foot. I’m here to protect you for a handful of days and since there’s not much we can do about it, we might as well try to get along. I’ll tell you what...you fix me up one of those fancy cups of coffee from your pod machine and I’ll forget about what an ungrateful jerk you were to me last night after I saved your bacon. Sound like a deal?” He tacked on a smile for good measure. Time to make lemonade out of lemons. He was good at that.

Except CoCo didn’t seem to appreciate his peace offering. She grabbed her coffee and squared her shoulders, the scent of freshly brewed goodness teasing him in the worst way, as she said, “I’m pretty sure they sell coffee at the gas station down the street.” Then, blowing on her no doubt delicious coffee, she left him standing there.

Without any coffee.

Well. Hell.

* * *

WHAT WAS HE still doing here? She sipped at her coffee, waiting for the caffeine jolt so her brain could function. She’d thought for sure he would’ve bailed last night after she’d given him the brush-off. He was like a cursed penny that kept showing up in her purse.

Grabbing her cell, she quickly dialed her father. Time to get to the bottom of this situation. She couldn’t have Captain Buzzkill shadowing her every move.

“Babbo,” she greeted her father warmly in Italian, “how are you this morning?”

“Malissimo, child,” Enzo responded with a heavy sigh that pinched at her earlier pique. “Have you met the man I’ve hired to watch over you?”

“Ah, yes, actually, I have,” she answered, biting her lip, wondering how to break the news that she wanted him to fire Rian. “About that... I don’t think he’s a good fit for me. I think I’ll be fine without a babysitter, Babbo. I’m a big girl now. Besides, I doubt we have anything to truly worry about. Perhaps you’re just being a little too cautious?”

“Contessa, I will not argue the point with you,” Enzo said sternly. Her father only used her given name when he was either fed up or very angry. She may have her father wrapped around her finger but she still shivered when he used that particular tone of voice with her. “Rian Dalton is the best and I trust you in his care. You will do as he says. I have the FBI here with me, working on who is behind this terrorism, but I don’t want to worry about you. Am I clear?”

Damn. That didn’t go as she’d planned. “But, Babbo...he’s such a...” She wrestled with the right word. Jerk came to mind but it wasn’t just that. He was...unaffected by her in any way. And she found that to be a flaw she couldn’t abide. “I’m sure there are plenty of other qualified professionals out there that we can swap him out for. How about I look around and take that load off your shoulders? I would be willing to do that for you.”

“Contessa! You will do no such thing. You will abide by my decision. End of discussion.”

Should she try again? Under most circumstances she could twist her father into a pretzel to get what she wanted but she sensed this was not one of those times. She’d never heard him so gruff with her. Maybe he was really worried. “Okay, Babbo, I’ll stick with Rian,” she said glumly. “But I think this is ridiculous. You’re going to realize you’re overreacting and then I’ll get the satisfaction of saying that I was right.”

“Perhaps. But until then...you stick with the man I hired and don’t give him any of your attitude.”

“I’ll do my best,” she replied, though she couldn’t promise. There was something about Rian that rubbed her wrong. Maybe it was the smug smile or the way he didn’t bat an eyelash at her looks or her body. She was an expert at wielding sex appeal and most men didn’t stand a chance when she put her mind to it but Rian seemed to look right through her. It made her grumpy.

“Grazie, dolcezza,” Enzo said with a sigh as he clicked off, and she genuinely wished her father wasn’t so burdened by what was happening. She adored her Babbo—Italian for daddy—even if she was, admittedly, spoiled rotten as some might say. She tossed her phone onto the bed and reluctantly returned to the kitchen, where Rian was trying to figure out the Keurig coffeemaker. She didn’t want to be nice but a handful of days would pass at a snail’s pace if they were constantly sniping at each other, so she pushed him aside and fixed him a cup of coffee, thrusting it at him with a glower when it was finished.

“Ah, thank God,” Rian said, taking a grateful sip. “That iced tea wasn’t going to work. I was ten seconds away from stuffing you in the car and driving to that gas station to get a cup.”

“I guess I should be thankful for small favors,” she quipped sourly, watching him enjoy his coffee with a critical eye. He was good-looking. In a smug sort of way. “So, apparently my father believes there is a credible threat and that you are the best person for the job in order to keep me safe. Personally, I think this will all blow over and all that will be at risk is my social life. But my father is really stressed and I don’t think he’s going to change his mind until he gets the all-clear from the FBI, so I guess we’re stuck together for the next few days.”

“Glad to hear you’re coming around,” he said from above the rim of his coffee cup. “And for what it’s worth...your father is concerned because the threats are becoming more personal. You’re his only child. It’s only natural for him to want to protect you.”

“Of course,” she said stiffly. “I’m just saying, this is all pretty over the top. People pop off their mouths all the time. It doesn’t mean they actually plan to follow through.”

“True. But then, sometimes they do. That’s not exactly something you want to take a chance with, you know?”

She nodded, grudgingly ceding the point. “So what now? I’m already bored out of my brain.”

“Not my job to entertain you, sweetheart...just to protect you.”

“Wrong. If you want to keep me out of harm’s way, you’d better find a way to keep me busy. Otherwise, I’ll have to find my own fun, and who knows what that might entail.”

“Do you have a death wish or something? This shit is real. Not some game.”

She shrugged. “Says you. I think it’s all a waste of time. A waste of my time. I’m only indulging my father because he’s a sweet old man and I adore him.”

“Your social calendar will recover,” Rian said drily, finishing his coffee and rinsing the cup off to leave in the sink. “But I have more bad news—we’re not staying here.”

“And just where exactly are we supposed to go?” she queried, her irritation ramping up. “I’m not about to hole up in some hovel if that’s what you’re thinking.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry about it, princess. It’ll be safe—that’s all that matters.” He shoved away from the counter and waved her out of the kitchen with a curt command of “Go pack,” and she cast a dirty glare his way before returning to her room.

Just where the hell did he plan to take her?

Good God, she hoped it was someplace five-star. She just wasn’t in the mood to rough it.


4 (#ulink_d95d6d09-489a-559b-8426-40de7b994db4)

HE DIDN’T EXACTLY have a safe house but he knew a hotel that was fairly small and off the beaten path that would serve his purpose. The only problem? It wasn’t much to look at. However, that was the point. No one was going to look for an heiress at a two-star hotel that was built in the ’70s and hadn’t been updated since it was erected. And, okay, maybe he was just a little entertained by the idea of subjecting the spoiled brat to something a little less luxurious than she was accustomed to, but it was safe and that was his primary concern.

“Where exactly are you taking me?” she asked, returning with a designer rolling suitcase. “I prefer something along the lines of the Biltmore but I’ll settle for the Four Seasons.”

He chuckled. “I’ll take that under consideration. Are you ready?”

She looked at him with irritation. “I’m standing here with luggage. What do you think that means?”

“All right, then. Let’s hit the road.”

She grumbled something under her breath but didn’t repeat herself when he gave her a sharp look. They climbed into his Range Rover and took off.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked, suspicious. “You’ve been the picture of grumpy since the moment we met, yet you’re smiling like you just won the lottery.”

“What? A man’s not allowed to smile in your company?” he asked, smothering his grin when he realized he was borderline gloating in anticipation. Was he being a jerk? Possibly. But she deserved it. He was doing this for all the men out there who’d had the misfortune to snag this girl’s eye. No doubt, CoCo had left behind a string of men after she’d had her fun. “Just sit back and enjoy the ride. We’re almost there.”

She looked out the window with a frown. “Just where exactly are you taking me? This neighborhood doesn’t look safe at all. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“So far, that’s debatable.”

“Just relax, princess. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s protect overprivileged, spoiled heiresses.”

“Exactly how do you get jobs? You have the manners of a pig. Just so you know, so far I haven’t been very impressed with your methods. And in case you haven’t noticed—people care about what I have to say. One bad review from me and you’re finished.”

“Have you noticed that you don’t have many friends? It might be because you’re unbearable to be around.”

Her indignant sputter was entertaining. “You don’t get to judge me. You’re no one. And when this is over my life will go on and yours will be ruined.”

Oh, she had balls. “Let me get this straight...you’re saying when I’m done protecting your ass, you’re going to ruin my career just because I don’t jump when you snap your fingers? Hmm, that’s not a glowing recommendation for protecting you at all. Maybe I ought to just dump you off at the nearest corner and let you fend for yourself.” He barked a laugh at the idea. “You wouldn’t last a day.”

She shrugged. “You’re the one who believes there’s a real threat out there, not me. This is all going to blow over. Just wait and see.”

“Maybe you’re right. But I’m getting paid either way and since you’re not the one signing my paycheck just zip your lip and sit tight.”

She jerked her gaze away from him with a delicate sniff of annoyance and he had to stop himself from chortling. Why was he baiting her? He’d never acted like this with a client. Not even with the snobbiest, but for some reason he just couldn’t shut it down. Her ego needed an ass-whupping in the worst way and he was more than willing to be the one to deliver.

He took the exit ramp and within a block the hotel came into sight. Just as he expected she started to screech.

“Oh, hell no. You’re out of your ever-loving mind if you think I’m staying here. It doesn’t even look like it has running water or indoor plumbing!”

He put the Range Rover into Park and climbed out with a chuckle. “I promise you there is hot and cold running water. But you’re out of luck if you’re looking for room service.”

She quickly followed, the bee in her bonnet buzzing loudly. “This place is disgusting. I wouldn’t let a stray dog sleep here. And you think I’m supposed to sleep here? You are out of your mind! If I’d wanted to go camping, I would’ve booked a trip to Yosemite.”

“Somehow I can’t imagine you camping anywhere.”

“That’s not the point. I’m not staying here.” She stamped her foot. “I told you I would settle for the Four Seasons, not this disgusting edge-of-the-world shack.”

“Calm down, princess. It’s clean, it’s safe and exactly where we need to be right now. No one is going to look for you here.”

“Of course not! I feel like I’ve been kidnapped. I wouldn’t stay here if my life depended on it.”

“Interesting choice of words. Actually, your life does depend on it. Now come on, let’s go.”

“I won’t and you can’t make me,” she said, standing her ground with her arms crossed.

“Actually, I can make you. I can throw you over my shoulder and carry you into the hotel room if that’s what you prefer. I aim to please.” He took a step toward her and she paled.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me. You’re nothing but a job, princess. And making sure that you are safe is my number-one priority. How you get there or your relative comfort means nothing.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’ve been called worse and by better people. Let’s go.”

He was almost hoping that she would continue to be a pill but she grabbed her suitcase handle and jerked it toward her, stomping behind him. He could almost feel the heat from her glare burning a hole into his back but as long as she was moving her feet, he didn’t care. He made quick work of checking in under false names and then took them straight to the room. He opened the door and saw the problem as soon as she did. He looked at her with a slight apology. “This room used to have two beds.”

Her expression withered. “I guess you’ll be sleeping on the floor or in the bathtub, then.”

“I’m not sleeping in the bathtub,” he told her. “We’re both adults and if you can keep your hands to yourself, we’ll be okay.”

She gasped. “As if I would ever touch you. I’d rather die first.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he said with a short scowl. “Besides, you’re not my type, honey.”

“Like I believe that,” she muttered. “I saw the way you looked at me when we first met.”

“That was an act,” he said, happy to throw a bucket of water on her smug comment. “I prefer my women to be a lot less spawn of the devil, more of the human variety.”

“Ha-ha. Yes, well, women bought by the hour tend to be more agreeable.” She cast a disparaging look around the room. “I’ll bet you bring your girls here. Seems appropriate for that kind of commerce.”

He narrowed his gaze. “Careful, princess. One of these days your mouth is going to overload your ass.”

She ignored his warning. “I can’t believe you brought me to this place and now you think you’re going to sleep in the same bed with me. Unbelievable. Maybe I’ll just sleep in the car.”

“Negative. You stay where I can keep an eye on you. That’s the whole point of coming to a place like this. It might not look like much but from a defensive standpoint it’s pretty solid. A place like the Biltmore or the Four Seasons is a logistical nightmare. Too many people coming and going and it’s way too easy to pretend to be someone you’re not. Here, there’s no room service—which means no one is coming to the door that hasn’t been invited and all points of entry are easily watched. So, it’s not the lap of luxury but it will serve its purpose.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” she muttered, but something he said must’ve made sense because she stopped arguing even if she added, “I’m still not sleeping with you. You can take the floor.” She moved past him and closed herself in the bathroom.

“Just so you know, the idea of sleeping next to you isn’t high on my priority list, either,” he called out and she barked an incredulous laugh, mocking him.

As if he’d want to snuggle up to that spitting cobra? He’d rather chew off his own foot.

This was going to be the hardest he’d ever worked for a dollar, that was for damn sure.

* * *

THAT MAN HAD lost his mind if he thought he was going to climb into her bed as if he had a right to. She’d rejected hotter guys than him and he’d best remember that she was a catch! She sat on the closed toilet lid, quietly fuming. He had to be the single most annoying, rude jerk that she’d ever met—and that was saying a lot because she circulated in some pretty elite circles filled with self-important blowhards. At this rate, she was ready to surrender to whoever was threatening her family if it meant that she no longer had to put up with Rian Dalton. Who did he think he was? She had some of the richest, most eligible bachelors on two continents running after her and he had the gall to turn his nose up at her? That man was not only rude but an idiot, as well.

So what was she going to do, sit in the bathroom all day? No. He was not going to chase her off. She splashed some water on her face and then exited the bathroom with her chin held high. “I find it hard to believe that this is the best that you can find as a safe house. You can’t tell me that you bring politicians and other celebrities here to this awful place.” The slow, lazy smile told her exactly what she needed to know, and she clenched her fists as she howled. “You’re torturing me on purpose!”

But even as he didn’t rightly deny it, he didn’t admit it, either. “I find it important to adjust accordingly. This was the best place I could find that was suited to the situation,” he said as if she weren’t smarter than that, and she called him on it.

“Bullshit. You picked this place because it sucks and you don’t like me. Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Not at all. I think you’re very smart. But you’re also a pain in the ass. Did I pick this place because I thought it might annoy you? Maybe. But my original reasons stand. It’s a safe place. Deal with it.”

“Deal with it? Deal with what? The fact that there are probably more cockroaches in this place than there are actual people? We are in the middle of nowhere, I’m not sure when these bedsheets were cleaned last and I’m fairly certain people have probably been murdered in their sleep here. Why would I feel safe here?”

“I doubt anyone has been murdered in this room.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better? I swear to God, if my father wasn’t wholeheartedly convinced that you were the only one who could do this job, I would walk out the door right now and gladly never see you again.”

“Well, I guess I should be thankful for small favors. One thing, though, are you going to be this screechy the whole time? If so, I will need to invest in earplugs. Your voice is grating.”

Grating? She sputtered. “You have a lot of nerve. I don’t know if I should be impressed by your decided lack of common sense or if I should feel pity for you because you’re an overwhelming idiot.”

He snapped his fingers with a smile. “Earplugs it is.”

She growled. The man was insufferable. “This room is about to lose its murder-free status because I’m going to kill you in your sleep.”

“Careful, making threats like that is a felony. I’d hate to have to arrest you. Although, you sitting in jail would definitely be a safe place. But I can’t promise that the accommodations are superior to what we have right here.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Princess, you’ll find that I dare much. Keep pushing and you’ll find out just how far I’m willing to go.”

There was something about the way he held her gaze that sent a dangerous thrill arcing through her nerve endings. There was no pushing him around—no bulldozing him. Men crumbled when she pushed. Not Rian. He not only pushed back, he dared her to push harder. There was something electric dancing between them even if neither wanted to admit it. And that stubborn mouth had the most sensual lips she’d ever seen. So he wasn’t hard on the eyes, she grudgingly admitted, finding it hard to pull her gaze away when she realized she’d been staring a little too long. Rian would be the perfect guy to have angry, I-hate-you sex with. If she were into that kind of thing. “So if there’s no room service, how exactly do you plan to feed me?” she finally asked.

He pulled a brown square package from his backpack and tossed it at her. She caught it in confusion. “What the hell is this?”

“That, my dear, is a military-issue MRE. I think it’s meat loaf. Not bad but not great, either. I don’t want to oversell it.”

She dropped the package as if it were made of poison and it landed on the floor with a dull thud. “Are you kidding me? Those things have, like, three thousand calories. I can’t eat that.”

“They fill the belly. I suppose if you get hungry enough you’ll dig in.”

“You can’t be serious. We’re not at war. There is no reason why I should have to eat something meant for soldiers in the field. And I don’t believe you eat these, either. If you had a steady diet of MREs, you’d be fat as a tick.”

He rubbed his belly. “I guess I just have a fast metabolism.”

There was no winning with this man. She threw her hands up. “I guess I’ll starve. And when you return me to my father, starving and near death because I haven’t had any food or water, something tells me he won’t be hot to write you a check.”

He sighed dramatically. “You are the biggest pain. Fine, I’ll go get you something to eat, but I’m talking burgers and fries, not some fancy French froufrou stuff. Got it?”

She supposed that was a victory of some sort. “It’ll do for now. But if that’s how you eat normally, your arteries must be clogged with gunk.”

“Don’t worry about my arteries—they’re just fine.”

“Are you always this much of a jerk with all your clients?” she asked. “Because you have terrible manners. I can’t imagine you’re saving all of that just for me.”

“How about you, princess? Your manners aren’t exactly great, either. I would ask how you have any friends at all but then you’re rich, so that probably helps. People can put up with a lot if they’re getting perks. Do you hand out Coach bags for the ones that hang around the longest?”

She drew back, stung. “That’s ridiculous. You don’t know me and you certainly don’t know what my friends are like.”

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea. Don’t you remember I watched you all night last night? I hate to break it to you but I’m willing to bet you don’t have any true friends. All those people were doing was trashing your house—excuse me, it’s not even your house—trashing your mother’s house. Doesn’t that bother you?”

“They weren’t trashing the house,” she disagreed hotly. “And besides, we have a cleaning company coming in to pick up in the morning. My mom will never know.”

“That’s not the point. It’s not your place to trash. If you are throwing a raging party at a house—pick your own.”

She blinked back sudden tears. “Excuse me, I don’t think it’s your job to lecture me. You don’t know my family dynamics so butt out.”

“You’re right. And I don’t care about your family dynamics. All I know is that someone is out there pretty pissed off at your family and looking to take it out on anyone they can get their hands on. But you have to wonder what is it you guys did to piss someone off that bad.”

“Who said we pissed anyone off? My father is a very rich, influential man. Sometimes people are just envious of his success.”

He shrugged. “Perhaps. Or maybe your dad stepped on too many people on his way to the top.”

“Look, you don’t get to talk about my dad that way. You don’t know him. He is the nicest man you’ll ever meet. He would give you the shirt off his back if you needed it. But he shouldn’t be made to apologize for his success. He worked his ass off to get where he is right now and it’s shady people who think that they’re entitled to what someone else has that has put us in this position.”

Her heated answer surprised him enough to soften a little. “All right, you’ve made your point. All I’m saying is that you’re not making anything easier with your bad attitude.”

“And it’s my job to make your job easier?”

“Maybe if you weren’t so difficult, people would be more interested in helping you.”

She cocked her head at him. “And by people, do you mean you? Because I’m not looking for your approval.”

“Whatever, princess. All I’m saying is... Hell, forget it. You can’t hear anything that you don’t want to hear anyway.” He went to the door. “Stay here. I’m going to get your food. Don’t leave.”

And then he was gone. For a long moment she just stared at the door, his words banging around in her head. Why did she care what he thought? He was no one. But knowing that he thought so little of her, that all he saw was a spoiled heiress, pinched her hard. She was more than that. And she hadn’t always been this way. Growing up for the first part of her life in rural Italy, she’d been like a lot of other girls. It wasn’t until her parents split up and she had to travel between two different continents that things changed.

It sounded like more poor rich-girl problems but no one knew what it was like to be raised by nannies, rarely seeing her parents. Her mother was never around, always too busy finding the next man of the hour to bother with a little girl. She lost herself to a moment of self-pity. No one understood—and that included Rian Dalton. Not that it mattered. She didn’t care what he thought.


5 (#ulink_ad5b344d-ca9a-5913-96f5-b30a3ae11f7c)

STOP WITH THE DEBATES, he chastised himself. It was unhealthy and unprofessional—but he couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. She brought out the worst in him. Maybe he ought to call Kane and have him take over. But even as the sensible thought flitted across his mind, he couldn’t actually commit. He didn’t want anyone else handling this case.

Maybe because giving up would feel like a failure, or maybe it was because of something else, but he just wasn’t ready to let go. And the fact that CoCo was calling him on his bullshit was something that he hadn’t expected. Yeah, she was smart. She’d seen right through the fact that he was deliberately baiting her. Sure, the place was safe—he wouldn’t lie about that—but there were other places he could’ve picked that were just as safe but not as squalid.

The thing about the bed, though, that’d come as a shock. In the past when he’d used this place, there’d been two full beds. But it’d been a while since he’d come around and the management must’ve decided to spruce things up. He could try to switch rooms but he couldn’t give up the strategic position, and he wasn’t about to take chances with CoCo’s life even if she did irritate the shit out of him.

He made quick work of finding a burger joint, ordering enough food to last them for the night, and then returned to the hotel. This time, he told himself, he wasn’t going to let her get under his skin. He was a professional and he was going to start acting like one. With a quick look around to make sure that nobody was watching him, he let himself into the room.

Time to start fresh. “Look, since we have to work together for the next couple of days, how about we call a truce? I won’t needle you and you won’t needle me and we’ll get along just fine.” He handed her a bag of burger and fries.

She accepted the food offering with a small nod. “I guess that’ll be okay. But this place sucks. Surely we can go somewhere else, somewhere less third-world country.”

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Right now we need to hole up and make sure that the place is secure.”

She made an exasperated sound, wanting to slap him silly right in that too-hot-for-his-own-good face. “Enough with the dire warnings of imminent death. What an enormous wet blanket you are. Do you realize how many times somebody has threatened my dad’s life? People are crazy. But nothing has ever happened to him and we’re going to be fine.”

“Have you read any of the threats that have come his way?” he asked.

She shook her head. “My dad doesn’t let me see those things but I know he’s been threatened before. The thing is, when you have a lot of money, you have a lot of enemies. And it’s not because you did anything specific, it’s just because some people with less hate those who have more.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed. “But sometimes they also have a reason. Do you think there’s any reason why your dad might be targeted?”

“No. This is the work of someone who’s just crazy. I’m sure of it.”

But Rian wasn’t so sure. Enzo had to believe this was a credible threat to bring in the big hitters. “I can tell you that the FBI doesn’t get involved unless it’s a real threat. I think your dad is right in keeping you out of harm’s way. You are an easy target. If whoever is threatening him got a hold of you, all the power would be in their hands.”

Obviously she hadn’t thought of it that way. “But I don’t understand who would hate him so much that they would do this. I don’t understand it at all. My dad makes shoes, for crying out loud. It’s not like he’s trading in state secrets.”

“How do you know? A shoe business would make a great front.”

She hit him with a dark look.

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not calling your dad anything. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”

“Well, stop. My dad is an honorable man.”

“I apologize. I’m not trying to say anything bad against your dad. I’m just trying to put together the pieces of the puzzle.”

“It’s not your job to figure out anything. Your job is to keep me safe.”

She had a point, but did she have to be so bitchy about it? “Yeah, I hear you. Loud and clear.” It was his fault for thinking he and CoCo could engage in a civil conversation. He gestured to her cheeseburger. “Eat your burger. I’m not heading back out just because you let your food go cold.”

They ate in silence—which surprised him because he didn’t think that CoCo had the ability to remain quiet. Either way it was a welcome respite.

* * *

SHE HADN’T MEANT to be rude but his comment about her father rubbed her the wrong way. Maybe because she’d worried herself that her father had done something to bring this trouble on their heads. She didn’t know his business practices but she assumed he was an honorable man because she hated to think of him any other way. The fact that Rian had thrown the question on the table had only served to bring up her own misgivings.

“How did you get into this line of work?” she asked, needing something to keep her from obsessing about things she couldn’t control. The close quarters were bad enough but being locked in a room with Rian was doing confusing things to her insides. “I mean, it doesn’t seem like something you just fall into on a whim.”

“Oh, is this story hour? Now are we gonna share about each other’s lives and sing ‘Kumbaya’?”

She drew back with a bristle. “Look, I’m just trying to make the time pass. If you want to be a jerk about it, fine. We can stare at the walls and watch the cockroaches to pass the time.”

That seemed to knock some sense into him as he had the decency to look regretful. “Sorry, I’m not used to you being friendly. I didn’t recognize it as a genuine attempt at small talk.”

“See? That’s what I’m talking about. I try to be nice and then you go and say something mean and then it starts all over again. Can’t we get along for ten minutes?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry. Let me switch gears for a minute.” He wiped his mouth and acted as if he was indeed switching a gear in his head. “All right, what do you want to know? How did I get into this business? My brother, Kane, and I started it up when we realized there were plenty of people out there who would pay through the nose for a little protection. We figured we had the skills—former military, special skills training—and we decided to make it work for us. It was either that or spend the rest of our lives in therapy for PTSD issues. This seemed like the better option.”

“You’ve been in open combat?” she asked, surprised and a little impressed. “Do you have any scars?”

“Mental or physical?”

She shrugged. “Either.”

“Both. But like I said, therapy just didn’t seem like it was gonna work out. I like to shoot things. And in our line of work we get the opportunity to do that. And get paid well for it, so it’s a win-win.”

“So, you and your brother do this together? Is your brother like you?”

“No.” He paused to grin. “He’s not as nice.”

At that she laughed. “Wow. Thanksgiving dinner around your table must be pretty fun.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not big on the holiday scene. Neither of us make a big deal out of that stuff because we never really had it growing up.” A moment passed between them before he pulled himself out of his own thoughts to switch his attention back to her. “What do you do for fun when you’re not out there playing into the stereotype?”

“And what stereotype would that be?” she asked drily. “And here I thought we were off to a good start. You just don’t know how to be nice, do you?”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right. I can’t seem to watch my mouth around you. Tell me what you do for fun.”

“I do whatever I want to do.” Damn it, now she was the one being defensive. But what could she say? She did love her life. Might as well own it. “I shop. I party.” That’s what he expected her to say, anyway. As if he would believe her if she told him that she actually wanted to design shoes like her father. Besides, that was private. She wasn’t going to share that with Rian and run the risk of being mocked. “This was a stupid idea, to chitchat. We obviously have nothing in common.”

“Don’t get your panties twisted. We just seem to set each other off for some reason. I’m interested in knowing more about you—the real you. I’m listening if you want to try again.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “Seriously? You’re not just saying that?”

“I don’t say a thing I don’t mean. Go ahead, tell me something interesting about yourself.”

CoCo took a moment to think, then said, “Well, I speak fluent Italian, decent French and a tiny bit of Russian.”

His brows rose. “That is impressive. Benefit of being shuttled between parents who live on opposite continents?”

“Mostly. But European school systems are different than here in the States. It’s just natural for most kids to speak more than one language. I don’t want to sound superior anything but the European school system is much more rigorous.”

“Makes sense. Although if I was required to learn more than one language I probably would’ve failed high school. English was hard enough.” He chuckled. “But that’s actually kind of cool that you’re fluent in so many other languages.”

She smiled. “It comes in handy when ordering in fancy restaurants. I’m usually the only one who knows what I’m actually ordering.”

He laughed. “Are you the designated orderer when you go to restaurants with your friends?”

She nodded. “Yes. But I don’t mind. I like being helpful when I can.”

That must’ve amazed him. “Tell me something else about yourself that would surprise me.”

“Why?” Were they actually having a decent conversation? She wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. Keeping a professional distance might help with the annoying flits of excitement tickling her stomach each time she caught him smiling. He had nice, kissable lips when he wasn’t being a colossal toad. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like that we’re not trying to kill each other right now but I’m not quite sure why you’re suddenly being so nice.”

He sighed, stretching out his legs as he confessed, “Look, I was a jerk when we first met. There’s something about you that gets under my skin. I grew up really poor. I’m talking the kind of poverty that no one likes to think about. It makes it hard to see all these people who have so much act so crappy to their fellow human beings. I’ve always believed that if you have extra you should give a little extra. But that doesn’t seem to be the prevailing attitude around here. Los Angeles is a whole other world and not a very generous one from what I can see.”

“I try to donate when I can. I mean, I don’t do it as much as I should but I have a few charities that I like to donate to.”

“See, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re an heiress and you never have to worry about where your next meal is coming from, but when I was growing up I went days without food. My old man was a bastard drunk, and a mean one at that. If it weren’t for my older brother—well, let’s just say I probably wouldn’t be here today. Being hungry is something kids should never have to experience. There are basic rights a human being should have and food is one of them.”

CoCo didn’t know how to respond. She’d never gone a day in her life knowing the pangs of hunger. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that. You’re right, every kid deserves food. But that’s really no reason to take it out on me just because I didn’t experience the same kind of childhood. I don’t mean to ruin this nice moment we’re having but you came at me with an attitude from the moment we met. And it wasn’t really fair. You didn’t know me from anyone and you judged me.”

“True,” he admitted. “However, I hate to say this but I wasn’t too far off the mark. I might’ve come off a little brusque but you were worse. What’s that say about you?”

“It says that I don’t like strangers crashing my party,” she answered coolly. “If I was nice to every single person who just randomly walked up to me, who knows who I’d be inviting into my life? I might not know what it’s like to live in extreme poverty but you don’t know what it’s like to live with extreme wealth. People can’t be trusted most times. Your inner circle becomes smaller and smaller and it’s out of necessity, not because you don’t like people. You never know who wants to rip you off.”

He was openly confused. “If that was the case, why did you have a house filled with people that you didn’t even know? You can’t tell me that all those people who came to your party are your personal friends. I guarantee half of those people were only there because they wanted to say they’d attended a CoCo Abelli party. I hate to break it to you, princess, but you have a reputation and it isn’t a pretty one.”

She blinked. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“Why do you think the paparazzi follow you? It’s because you’re always getting yourself into trouble. Getting drunk, wardrobe malfunctions, partying too hard...it paints a picture.”

“It’s not my fault that photographers follow me around,” she said bitterly, embarrassed. “What if someone with a camera was always in your face every time that you went out? You can’t tell me that you haven’t made mistakes, maybe drank a little too much or whatever with friends. I make a mistake and it ends up all over the tabloids. That’s not my fault.”

“I’m sorry I don’t buy the ‘poor me’ routine. You put yourself in these positions and they capitalize on them. You say I don’t know what it’s like to have extreme wealth, you’re right. I don’t. But I know for certain I wouldn’t be out getting drunk and giving the paparazzi so much to work with.”

“You don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head. “There’s an expectation and understanding that if you run in certain circles you’re going to have to host certain parties.”

“Screw those circles. Doesn’t sound like the kind of circle I’d want to be in.”

“It’s easy for you to judge because you don’t live my life.”

“Absolutely. It’s also easy for me to see that what you’re doing isn’t healthy. You’re too close to the situation, you can’t see that you’re screwing up your life.”

She didn’t have to listen to this. Or did she? Where was she supposed to go? She was stuck in a tiny room. “Okay, story hour is over. Somehow we can’t even have a basic conversation without insulting one another. How about we just spend the next couple of days refraining from saying a single word to one another. Sound like a plan?”

“I have one final thing to say about this, because it seems like no one else in your life has the balls to tell you what you don’t want to hear. Anyone who would encourage you to get shit-faced drunk or high on pills doesn’t care about you—you’re simply the entertainment for the night. So you have money... No one says you have to act like an asshole. You could be giving. You could be generous. You could make lives better for other people. But instead you spend your time thinking only of yourself and how everything in the world affects you. I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but the world is bigger than the circle you’re occupying.”


6 (#ulink_f2f11d60-be41-5bc2-863f-6b2757788859)

WHY COULDN’T HE KEEP his damn mouth shut? Things had been going smoothly—and then he had to go and lay all that truth on her like a load of bricks. It wasn’t his job to be her Jiminy Cricket. If she didn’t have a conscience about how she spent her life or how she frittered away her blessings, that was her problem. So why did it bother him so much that she refused to see the truth? He didn’t know her, not really. True, all he knew about her was from the tabloids and maybe that was his fault for only caring to look that deep, but it drove him crazy when people did so little for their fellow man.

“You know, I’ve seen people with so little to their names that they could carry everything they owned on their person, and yet they’ll be the first to offer you something if you need it. And then I’ve worked with people who owned yachts and mansions and throw lavish parties for their dogs but wouldn’t drop a dollar into a collection cup. There’s something wrong with the world when that’s okay.”





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