Книга - A Dangerously Sexy Christmas

A Dangerously Sexy Christmas
Stefanie London


Assignment: A Hot Holiday Affair! Aspiring jewelry designer Rose Lawson doesn't want a bodyguard. Especially the hot, muscle-y one her father hires after a break-in at the jewelry shop where she works. It's only when her home is also ransacked that Rose realizes the sexy (but infuriating) bodyguard might come in handy…especially on a cold winter's night.Max Ridgeway is a former Aussie cop who's got something to prove in New York. He's convinced that someone dangerous is behind the robberies and that Rose needs protection. His protection. But what's even more dangerous is the sexy tension between them—because a hot little fling could compromise their lives…and his heart.







Assignment: A Hot Holiday Affair!

Aspiring jewelry designer Rose Lawson doesn’t want a bodyguard. Especially the hot, muscle-y one her father hires after a break-in at the jewelry shop where she works. It’s only when her home is also ransacked that Rose realizes the sexy (but infuriating) bodyguard might come in handy...especially on a cold winter’s night.

Max Ridgeway is a former Aussie cop who’s got something to prove in New York. He’s convinced that someone dangerous is behind the robberies and that Rose needs protection. His protection. But what’s even more dangerous is the sexy tension between them—because a hot little fling could compromise their lives...and his heart.


“I’m here to protect you...”

Rose cupped the side of Max’s face and turned him until they were face-to-face, her thumb stroking his lips. “I want you to do more than protect me.”

He shook his head. “It’s my job to ensure your safety. That’s it.”

“You’re not on the clock now.” Her other hand found its way to his thigh.

God, he was so hard. He strained against the zipper of his jeans, creating a solid ridge beneath the denim. If she brushed her hand just a little higher...

Rose pressed her lips to his jaw, and awareness ran through him, lighting up his body like a Christmas tree. “Rose,” he growled.

Her hands left him for the knotted belt of her robe. She unwound the fabric and the robe parted. “I see the way you’ve been looking at me, Max.” She pushed herself up and straddled him. “You may not like me, but you want me.”

He tilted his face up to hers. “You’re asking for trouble.”


Dear Reader (#ulink_58fda3d8-a9bd-55ad-8d7b-99bd2d36b6ac),

I’ve always had a fascination with diamonds. Not because they’re highly sought after, but because they’ve always seemed kind of magical to me.

I remember doing a project on gemstones in primary school (elementary school, for those in the US) and learning that diamonds take a few billion years to be formed blew my ten-year-old mind. It’s pretty amazing to think that aside from their incredible appearance, diamonds are also one of the strongest materials on earth. So it makes sense that they’re the stone chosen most often to represent commitment. Like a diamond, a good relationship has equal amounts of beauty and resilience.

I like to think of my characters as diamonds—sparkling little gems dug from the depths of my late-night musings. Rose and Max are both beautiful and strong in their own way. They have big hearts that have been scarred by the past, they’re tough on themselves and like to do things their own way. Like diamonds, they’re put under a lot of pressure before they have the chance to shine.

But don’t worry, they have plenty of fun along the path to their happy-ever-after. True to the Mills & Boon Blaze promise, this book gets the steam going!

I hope you enjoy Rose and Max’s story. I certainly had a blast writing it. You can find out what’s coming next by checking out my website, stefanie-london.com (http://www.stefanie-london.com), or my Facebook page, facebook.com/stefanielondonauthor (http://www.facebook.com/stefanielondonauthor). I love chatting with readers, so feel free to drop me a line anytime.

With love,

Stefanie


A Dangerously Sexy Christmas

Stefanie London






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


STEFANIE LONDON is a voracious reader who has dreamed of being an author her whole life. After sneaking several English lit subjects into her “very practical” business degree, she got a job in corporate communications. But it wasn’t long before she turned to romance fiction. She recently left her hometown of Melbourne to start a new adventure in Toronto and now spends her days writing contemporary romances with humor, heat and heart.

For more information on Stefanie and her books, check out her website at stefanie-london.com (http://www.stefanie-london.com), or her Facebook page at facebook.com/stefanielondonauthor (http://www.facebook.com/stefanielondonauthor).


To Zia, thank you for always cheering me on.

You’re the best aunt a girl could hope for.


Contents

Cover (#u9c476b92-f381-5db4-89a1-1e707c41e2cf)

Back Cover Text (#u4ef448b8-4868-526f-b98a-52f3a92a2212)

Introduction (#u443e681b-c617-573d-88a4-24666222afda)

Dear Reader (#uab8b7c07-6ce2-53eb-a322-075fc0466aee)

Title Page (#u7ba517db-5e0c-5fa4-8219-6dd7f3ce745b)

About the Author (#u0947f6d4-421d-507d-96b5-34dda02f5f83)

Dedication (#uf3229de0-e6a0-5d1a-93e9-28b7a07224a6)

1 (#ue2efe242-9f62-5ff3-9c8c-918666944013)

2 (#u822aaf08-bbfc-570f-a4ee-2866db40c2f9)

3 (#uc86af58d-d89b-5c0d-aedc-c5efa83d9c19)

4 (#u7795ac1e-1474-592f-85c6-654ceafb8eb1)

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15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


1 (#ulink_69acc360-18f3-5a47-ad6e-7beca5ea5add)

PERSONAL SECURITY DETAIL was a lot like babysitting. All Max Ridgeway had to determine was whether the person under his protection would be the model child or the toddler from hell.

“Do you always disregard your personal safety, Miss Lawson?” he asked.

Two catlike eyes glowered at him. But if he was going to protect her, he needed to know if she would throw herself into harm’s way. Or run. Or walk down a dark alley in the middle of the night.

“You say you don’t want my protection. Tell me if I’ve misunderstood you.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his hands behind his head.

She squared her shoulders against his visitor’s chair and displayed what he imagined was her most dazzling smile. Rose Lawson’s eyes were almond-shaped and a most unusual shade of yellow-green. She had thick curling lashes, a heart-shaped face and glossy pouted lips made for sin. The whole sexy package probably turned other men to goo. But her appearance—while thoroughly enjoyable—would not distract him.

“You’ll have to excuse the mix-up,” she said in a smooth voice that sent a shot of heat through him. Her accent was strange. Definitely American, but the gentle lilt of her words suggested extensive time overseas. London, according to his research. “My father hired you, but he can be a little...overprotective. I won’t be needing your services.”

Her insistence on refusing his protection meant she would be a royal pain in the butt to have as a client. Only she wasn’t the client; her father was. She stood up and raked a hand through her chin-length brown hair, the artfully curled lengths falling back into place as she released them. Her eyes flicked over him, lingering on his face before she checked her phone.

“Sorry to waste your time,” she said in a tone that didn’t sound sorry at all.

The wall clock of his office ticked loudly in the silence. Each second was another he couldn’t have back.

Rose walked toward the door, her heels clicking against the office floor. Skin-tight black jeans accentuated her legs, and a loose top in black silk acted as a canvas to the ornate red, gold and yellow necklace that hung down to her navel. Her file indicated she was a jewelry designer. Perhaps she’d made the necklace herself.

He let her get to the door of his office before stopping her. “I didn’t say you could leave.”

Her shoulders stiffened and she spun to face him. The charming smile slipped and she regarded him coolly. “I wasn’t aware I required your permission.”

She pulled on a heavy black coat. Jewel-studded gold bracelets clinked, making her movements seem musical.

“As of now you’re in my charge.” Max stood, walked over to her and leaned his back against the wall. “Your father hired me to look after you until we can figure out who broke into your store.”

At the mention of her father Rose became wary, distant. “Probably a bunch of kids. I work in a jewelry store. It’s not hard to believe it was a crime of opportunity. Besides, it’s not even my store. The owner doesn’t seem to think she needs protection, so why should I?”

“Your father obviously thinks you need it.” Max tossed the comment out to see what reaction he’d get.

“He doesn’t know what’s best for me.” She gritted her teeth. “Besides, this happened two whole days ago. If someone was after me, wouldn’t they have done something about it by now?”

“Not necessarily. And as for your ‘kids’ theory, the store was broken into, but the perp didn’t take anything.” He cocked his brow. “That doesn’t sound much like a crime of opportunity to me.”

“All the jewelry is locked in a safe, as are the stones in the workshop.” She tilted up her face to his, exasperation clear in her eyes. “They’re high-grade safes, not something that can be pried open with a crowbar. And I lock the safes whenever I close up. We also have a security system, cameras and a duress button.”

Max couldn’t help but notice the way the colored beads around her neck sparkled like fire...the same fire that lit up her eyes. She was feisty, all right. He’d have his hands full keeping her safe, especially if her father’s suspicions turned out to be true.

“The security system was disarmed and the cameras turned off. And yet they left without touching the safe or stealing anything. You don’t find that strange?”

“No, I don’t. Perhaps they were interrupted, or it was just a random act of vandalism.” She stepped toward the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

If it had been the act of a bunch of kids trying to vandalize the neighborhood, then why had they stopped at her store in particular? A store with a high degree of security. Why not bust up a few windows of the shops next door? Rose Lawson was definitely in danger. Max pressed a palm to the door frame next to her head, blocking her exit.

“We haven’t finished.”

Her cheeks flushed deep pink, making her fair skin seem even lighter and her yellow-green eyes even more vivid. “Who do you think you are?”

“I’m the guy who’s going to protect you, Rose.” For some reason his heart was beating a little too fast, his blood pumping a little too hard. “And I take that seriously.”

“Look,” she said, jabbing a finger into his chest. “I don’t need anyone to protect me, least of all some beefed-up GI Joe wannabe.”

Ouch. The lady had an acid tongue. That shouldn’t have surprised him. Women as beautiful as she was often had the world at their feet and they didn’t appreciate it one bit. He resisted the urge to tell her just how wrong her assessment of him was, how totally off base and ignorant and narrow-minded—

“Hit a nerve, did I?” She smirked, the pale pink shine of her lip gloss catching the light.

“Sticks and stones.” Max leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers. “I’ve endured a lot worse in my life. So you can throw those petty little insults around as much as you like, because they won’t change the fact that from now on I’m going to be your shadow.”

In the silence that followed, the raggedness of her breath amplified. Her fingers danced at the edge of her necklace, tracing the beads and counting them as if it were a rosary.

“Now,” he said, stepping back and dropping his arm. “I’m taking you home.”

“The hell you are.” Rose glared up at him. “I don’t want a bodyguard, or whatever you’re called.”

“Security consultant,” Max corrected, inwardly laughing as she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t need one of those, either. I’m fine. It was just a one-off incident.” She pushed a stray tendril of hair from her face.

“I’ll see you home anyway, just to be sure.”

He’d been hired to protect Rose, and he’d do just that. Max’s gig with Cobalt & Dane Security might not be the career he’d dreamed of as a young lad in Australia, but the job had come when he’d needed it most. It was all he had. His old career was in tatters, his fiancée was a distant memory and his best friend...

Max swallowed. He would succeed at this, and if that meant following Rose home against her wishes, then so be it.

“Whatever.” Rose fished around in her bag and pulled out her car keys. “If you want to waste your time, go right ahead.”

She marched out of his office and headed straight past the reception desk to the elevators without waiting to see if he would follow. Jabbing a finger at the button, she tapped one high-heeled foot while she waited.

Max stood behind her, close enough to keep an eye on her but not so close as to encourage her to hurl any more insults at him.

The elevator arrived and Rose stepped inside, head bowed as she tapped at her phone, ignoring him. In the confined space, he could smell her perfume, something floral and expensive. It was probably some exclusive crap made of unicorn tears. She leaned against the elevator wall and crossed one slim, shapely leg over the other.

You’re being paid to look after her, remember? Ogling her legs is not in the job description.

Swallowing, he studied the illuminated numbers at the top of the elevator door as they descended. A soft ping signaled their arrival and Rose strode past him, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. Max could have picked her car out even without the telltale flashing lights when she hit the remote button.

The shiny, lipstick-red vehicle stood out among the sensible fleet of black and gray ex-NYPD sedans that belonged to the security company and its employees. Condensation billowed as their breath connected with the cold December air.

He got into his own car, a perfectly forgettable gunmetal gray Ford Crown Victoria. As she peeled out of her parking space, he cranked up the heat and followed.

The traffic was as thick as soup, but Rose’s bright car was easy to track even as she weaved from lane to lane, no doubt to irritate him. New York driving was something else. If it wasn’t for the fact that his job often required him to travel all over the state, he wouldn’t have bothered with a car. Driving in New York was kind of like trying to befriend a criminal...pointless and risky. The incessant honking of the taxis—or cabsas they liked to call them here—sounded over the top of his music, causing his shoulders to bunch around his neck.

Some days he really missed Australia, but he tamped down the useless sentimentality and the inevitable torment that followed when he thought of home.

Eventually they crossed the Brooklyn Bridge and shortly after she pulled up outside a string of town houses. His car rolled to a stop behind hers. The street was lined with trees, their bare branches decorated with colored fairy lights. The area wasn’t in the least bit flashy or what he’d expected from a princess. The buildings looked clean, yet modest. Several had Christmas wreaths on the front doors.

Snow crunched beneath his boots as he stepped out of his car and followed her up the path to the front door. He folded his arms across his chest, bracing himself against the chill.

As Rose fished in her bag for her house keys, a warning tingled his senses. A deep intuition that had been honed over years of being a cop. The crisp air blew around him, but there was something else. A distant noise that caught his attention for a fleeting moment and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Wait.” He put a hand over hers as she was about to push her key into the lock.

He turned, assessing the area in front of the house. At first nothing seemed out of place, but then he noticed it—a cigarette butt by her door.

Max stepped in front of her and tested the front door. Locked. He leaned out and checked the window next to the door. Also locked.

“What are you doing?” she asked and he silenced her with a look.

“Do you smoke?”

She shook her head, brows raised. “It’s terrible for your skin. Why?”

Someone who was smoking on the street would not have purposefully flicked it all the way up to her front door. No, the smoker had been standing right there.

Rose huffed at his lack of response and shoved her key into the lock, holding her coat tight around her neck with her other hand. “You’re all wound up for nothing.”

But Max’s senses remained on high alert. Years on the force had taught him never to ignore his gut. In fact, he’d earned the nickname Spider-Man for how reliable his “Spidey senses” were in the line of duty.

And the one time he had ignored those senses, he’d paid. Dearly.

She opened the door and stepped into the entrance of the apartment, her heels sharp against the dark polished boards. She tapped a number into her alarm pin pad and dropped her keys into a crystal bowl, the sound echoing through the empty apartment.

“I told you nothing was wrong,” Rose continued, shrugging out of her coat and stepping out of her heels. “I don’t need pro—”

The last word died on her lips as she glanced around. Cushions were scattered across the living room. The drawers of her coffee table had been opened, their contents spilled like blood across the floorboards. A floor lamp lay on its side, surrounded by glinting glass from a smashed photo frame.

“Oh, my God.” Rose’s breath hitched as she surveyed the damage, her hands fluttering uselessly at her sides.

She bent down and picked up the silver frame. The photo had a scratch on it from where the glass had broken, marring the face of the young girl standing with an older woman. She traced the jagged line with her fingertip.

Paper filled with jewelry sketches littered the floor like oversize snow. A bookcase had been overturned, its contents scattered. He tested the weight of the bookcase. Someone strong had done this.

Red shards glinted on the floor—an ornament had been knocked off her Christmas tree and shattered beyond repair. Two more baubles sat on the floor, unbroken, and the angel on top of the tree hovered at a precarious angle.

“Stay close while I check the rest of the house,” Max said, his voice level.

He knew the drill. Clear the area. Don’t leave the victim alone in case the intruder was still in the house. Since it was just the two of them, there was no one to stay behind and watch Rose while he did the clearing.

He reached into his leather jacket and drew the pistol from his holster. “We need to make sure whoever did this is gone.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded, drawing nearer to him without argument. They moved together through the dining area and into the kitchen. More cupboards were open there, more glass smashed. A door leading out to a tiny courtyard remained closed.

It was unlocked.

“Did you check this today before you left the house?”

She sucked on her lower lip. “I honestly can’t remember.”

Max was careful to move slowly so Rose could follow. But his blood pumped fiercely through his veins, his senses tuned to notice the slightest noise or change in atmosphere. A near-silent footstep. A breath.

He felt her presence at every step, her body close to his as they checked every nook, every corner. Her bedroom was by the front door. It, too, had been ransacked.

The drawers of her bureau were open, colorful scraps of lace flung everywhere. A purple bra hung from the handle of the drawer and a pile of panties had been dumped nearby like a crumpled rainbow. The head-spinning scent of flowers filled the room. Max spied an overturned perfume bottle, its contents dripping down the drawers to form a puddle on the ground.

Rose picked up the bottle, her mouth pressed into a thin line. She touched her fingertip to the chipped neck. “This was my mother’s. She brought it with her when we left America.”

The ink on the label had run, the leaked perfume smearing the words together. Her hand shook and Max reached out, taking the bottle from her so she wouldn’t cut herself. He placed it back on the bureau.

“We’ll find out who did this, Rose. But you have to believe me when I say this doesn’t feel like an isolated incident.”

She nodded mutely, her face set into a hard mask. Unemotional. Contained.

They walked to the living room. “Can you get upstairs from inside the building?”

Rose shook her head. “It’s a totally separate apartment. The guy who lives there uses the stairs out front.”

“He might have seen something.”

“I’m pretty sure he does shift work. He’s hardly ever home in the evenings.” She shrugged, her eyes unfocused. “But you could try.”

They hovered by the front door, Rose huddled close to him. Her hands were shoved into the pockets of her black jeans as though she didn’t want to risk touching anything. But her eyes revealed what the nonchalant pose was trying to hide. Fear.

The robbers had struck the jewelry store first, but hadn’t taken anything. And now they’d targeted Rose’s home. They were looking for something specific.

“Is anything missing?” Max asked as softly as he could. It was hard not to sound like a cop when it was all he’d ever known.

“Not that I can tell.” Her yellow-green eyes clouded over, dark brows pinched together above her pert nose. It was cruel that a women could look so beautiful with a face full of storm clouds.

He listened intently, but only Rose’s quickening breath broke the silence. He holstered his pistol and watched her for a moment.

Max turned to inspect the closet by the entrance. It wasn’t built into the wall, but it appeared to be bolted against it for stability. The door was ajar.

Inside, a black coat hung beside its gray twin. A pair of snow boots and two pairs of black high heels sat on the floor. He bent down to inspect a storage box that had been opened.

“Do you keep anything valuable in here?” He turned, expecting to see her behind him. But she wasn’t there. “Rose?”

A crash in the kitchen sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. He sprang up and raced through the apartment, his boots heavy and loud on the wooden floor. Each sense was focused, his eyes capturing and assessing every detail.

“Rose!” He drew his pistol.

Something hard connected with his shoulder as the intruder sprinted toward the front door in a blur of black. Max quickly regained his footing, but the person was gone in an instant. Max burst out onto the street only to find the intruder had vanished into thin air.

A lady walking her dog peered at him curiously, her eyes zeroing in on his gun. She hurried along, her head down. Max slammed his hand down on the brick letterbox as he stalked back into the house, holstering his weapon.

“Are you okay?” he called out as he jogged through the doorway.

Rose sat on the ground, her eyes wide and her breathing erratic. Chest heaving, she stared up at him. Unblinking. He dropped to the ground in front of her and inspected her face for cuts and bruises. Thankfully, she appeared to be shocked but not seriously hurt.

“I came back into the kitchen and he grabbed me from behind.” She touched her fingertips to a bright red spot under one eye and winced.

“Did you see his face?”

“It all happened so quickly. He was tall and had dark hair... That’s all I saw after he pushed me over.” She swallowed. “Oh, he had a tattoo on his neck.”

“Of what?”

She bit her lip. “Something black...a spade, I think.”

“Did he say anything?”

She took a deep breath, her eyes finally focusing on Max. “Where is it?”

“What?”

“He said, ‘Where is it?’” She shook her head. “I don’t know what he was talking about.”

He’d been prepared for her to cry next, but Rose Lawson held firm. Shell-shocked, but firm. Her bubble of denial had well and truly been shattered today, but she’d taken it like a champ and he respected her for that.

He had to fight the sudden urge to bundle her up and kiss her until she forgot everything—the trauma, the stress, the reality—but the pressure of his lips. He shoved the thought aside. It wasn’t like him at all to think about anything other than the facts. How had Rose gotten under his skin so quickly?

Max cleared his throat. “Do you hurt anywhere?”

“In my brain.” She managed a wan smile. “He clipped my face when he grabbed me, but otherwise I’m fine.”

“I’m going to check out the front.” He stood and held a hand out to her. “I need you to come with me so I can keep an eye on you this time. And no walking off unless I say so.”

“Okay.” She brushed aside his hand and stood on her own, dusting her palms down the front of her jeans.

“I mean it. Don’t go wandering off.”

“I said okay.” She followed him, but a scowl narrowed her eyes. The mark on her face had started to bloom. She’d have a nasty bruise there tomorrow.

They wove through the debris of her belongings and Max walked back out onto the sidewalk to take stock of the area. Rose hovered at the entrance and he glanced at her every few seconds. Everything appeared the same as it had been before with the exception of a missing black car. It could have been the getaway vehicle, or it could belong to a neighbor who’d gone out. He hadn’t heard an engine start, but noise from a renovation a few buildings down drowned out everything else.

Rubbing a hand along his jaw, he scanned his memory for the model. Nothing. The car had been nondescript, a sedan. Not old, but not brand-new, either.

His breath puffed out in front of him. The sun had dipped along with the temperature and the light from Rose’s apartment filtered out around her, highlighting her silhouette.

“What happens now?” she asked as he walked up the path.

“We should find you a relative to stay with,” he said, motioning for her to go inside. He closed the door behind him, willing the warmth from the apartment to seep into his limbs.

Silence.

“What if I don’t have anyone?” she asked, her voice icier than the snow-covered ground outside.

“What about your father?”

“It’s complicated. We’re not...” She attempted a smile but it came out more like a grimace. “No, I can’t.”

“He hired me to look after you. Obviously he’s concerned for your safety.”

She put up a hand to stop him arguing with her. “I’m not staying with him. End of story. Besides, lightning doesn’t strike twice, right?”

She wanted him to reassure her. But he couldn’t, not after what had just happened. He wouldn’t jeopardize her safety, not for anything.

“Don’t you have anyone else to stay with? A friend, another relative?” He knew her mother was deceased, but surely she had someone else in her life.

“I’ve only been back in New York a month. The closest thing I have to a friend is the barista at the coffee shop I go to every day,” she said, her eyes meeting his, her chin tilted.

She didn’t want his pity. He could see that as plain as day.

“You shouldn’t be alone.” Max shook his head again and raked a hand through his hair.

Everything about this scenario rankled. His gut had told him this was more than a simple robbery. The intruder’s question only solidified his suspicions. The jewels in Rose’s bedroom appeared untouched apart from them being dumped onto her bed, though she’d have to confirm it. He wasn’t a jewelry expert, but he was sure her pieces would be worth something.

No, this wasn’t just a robbery. A dangerous person wanted something from Rose Lawson, and he was going to find out exactly what it was.


2 (#ulink_b7ccec77-8a4b-52ae-9214-12a55dbfdbc4)

AS IF IT wasn’t bad enough to have her place of work and her house broken into, now she had to reveal the sorry state of her personal life to Mr. GI Joe Wannabe. The superhot, muscled-beyond-belief GI Joe Wannabe.

Rose cringed; there was no way she was going to stay with her dad. It’d been eleven years since she’d seen him, and they were far from being a happy family. Rose hadn’t wanted to reconnect with him, but after she’d moved to New York, he’d pushed harder for a reconciliation.

Staying in London hadn’t been an option, not with memories of her mother lingering on every corner. New York was the only other place she’d known to be home, but coming back here had meant starting from scratch...again. She hadn’t kept in contact with a single schoolmate or friend. But that didn’t mean she was ready to trust her father yet.

“Like I said, I’ll be fine here.” Rose took a long, slow breath and ordered herself not to cry. She was not going to let Max Ridgeway see her crumble.

As much as she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she was starting to agree with his earlier assessment that this situation was more than a simple robbery. She wasn’t rich by any means, but there were several things in her apartment that would fetch a few dollars. The strand of cultured pearls that had belonged to her mother, for one. Not to mention her electronic equipment, including the new laptop she’d bought at duty free and the iPad on her bedside table. All of it untouched.

A wave of emotion washed over her, causing her stomach to rock like a buoy in rough waters. Sighing, she looked through the apartment. If she hung out in the entrance she could pretend it had never happened.

“Come on,” Max said, his hand landing briefly on her shoulder before he jerked it away as if he’d changed his mind about touching her. “You can’t stay here. Let’s pack you a bag. We can call the police and tackle the clean-up tomorrow.”

His voice was crisp and businesslike, but the furrow of his dark brows and the determined set of his deep brown eyes spoke volumes. He was invested in taking care of her. His commitment seeped from every pore. Despite the chaos around her, Rose felt safe for the first time in a long while...as much as she hated to admit it.

The only person who cares about your safety is the one guy getting paid to do it. Typical.

Trusting someone else was uncomfortable, like a jacket that hugged too tight and squeezed her insides just enough to make breathing hard. Trust made her palms itch and her eyes dart. She never left her well-being in the hands of another person. She was her own protector, her own teacher, her own motivator. Everyone else sat at the periphery, whether she wanted them to or not.

“I don’t know about the police,” she said, shaking her head.

“Why?”

“I’m worried about the jewelry store’s reputation. Someone posted about the break-in on a blog, and we had customers questioning whether our security was up to scratch. We do a lot of repair and repurposing, but customers are worried to leave their items with us now.”

“It’s not your store to worry about.”

“Part of it is,” she insisted. “I have a dedicated space for my work. I’m building my clientele. It’s not just a sales job for me. It’s a platform to start my own business.”

He sighed. “Are you sure? No cops?”

“They have no leads in the store break-in. And it doesn’t look like anything was stolen here.”

“We’ll go through it all tomorrow to be certain, but we still need to sort where you’re going to stay tonight.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“No,” he barked. “Don’t even try and tell me you’ll be fine on your own. It’s not happening.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but tiredness had seeped into her limbs, deadening them and dampening her desire to argue. Right now she wanted a hot bath and a large glass of denial. Tomorrow she would formulate a plan.

Heading into her bedroom, she stepped over the scattered papers and spilled lingerie. The scent of her mother’s perfume hung in the air, a dense cloud of memory. Green flowers, a slight sharpness from the aldehydes. Chanel No.19, the only perfume her mother had ever worn. Through the days when they’d had very little money, she’d savored it, using only a single spritz for a special occasion, stretching the bottle because she couldn’t afford a new one. The scent made Rose’s eyes fill with tears.

Desperate for distraction, she grabbed a small suitcase and unzipped it. In her head she ran through the items she would need for a night away, cataloging them to prevent herself from thinking about how badly her life had been violated.

“T-shirt, jeans, underwear, deodorant,” she muttered, folding and stacking the items neatly into the bag. “Bra, hairbrush, cardigan...”

Max leaned against the door frame, keeping his distance but watching her closely. His large shoulders all but filled the space and she couldn’t help but allow her eyes to skim over the way his jeans fitted his thighs so snugly. They fitted rather snugly over some other areas, too.

She swallowed and redirected her attention to her overnight bag.

He was a total beefcake, no doubt one of those guys who thought time at the gym was a top priority in life. He wasn’t her type at all, though she had to admit the Australian accent was damn easy on the ears. But she preferred arty guys with trimmed beards and slender fingers, the kind of guys who would appreciate her work for its beauty and artistry, not those who would label it frivolous. So why did her gaze gravitate to Max at every opportunity?

You need the distraction, that’s all. He’s hot and you’re trying not to dwell on how the hell you ended up in this mess. Totally normal behavior.

“Hurry up.” Max’s deep baritone broke through her internal monologue. “The quicker we get you out of here the better.”

Rose looked up, her stomach flipping over at his serious expression. She wouldn’t feel scared. Years of fending for herself had to be worth something. She could manage it. No big deal.

Max’s voice was cool, but he stared at her with an intensity that said he wasn’t as calm as he acted. Never mind the way he drummed his fingers against the door frame.

“Okay, okay,” she muttered, dragging the zipper closed.

She set the suitcase on the ground and slipped her feet into a pair of flats. The nightstand and dressing table were covered in jewelry. The music box her mother had given her was shut, but the vintage earrings she usually kept inside were scattered around it. Clearly the non-thief had taken a peek inside. Her fingertips brushed a lonely gold earring with a vibrant green stone in the center. Its twin had fallen onto the carpet. She bent down and picked it up.

“Come on.” Max’s hand touched her shoulder. She hadn’t even heard him step into the room. His scent filled her nostrils, the warm masculine earthiness curling inside her, tightening all the places that should not have been working right now.

Focus on him, not on the fact that someone has been in your house. Hottie, good. Stalker, bad.

They trudged out of the apartment, her eyes immediately locking onto Max’s ass as she followed him. He wore a short jacket, his arms wrapped around his body to keep himself warm. The man wore jeans as though they’d been designed exactly to highlight the delicious muscles in his legs. He exuded strength and control. She’d bet her favorite pendant that there wasn’t an ounce of fat on him.

“Where are we going?” she asked, stepping out into the night air and turning to lock the door behind her.

It felt a little pointless since the lock hadn’t kept her house safe before. She set the alarm from a home security app on her phone. Now that she thought about it, the app hadn’t alerted her to an intruder earlier. That could only mean that whoever had broken into her house either knew her alarm code or had been able to disarm the supposedly top-notch technology. She wasn’t sure which of those two options was worse.

“We’re going to a hotel.” Max’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and he motioned for her to follow him.

He unlocked his car, a nondescript gunmetal gray sedan that was probably chosen for the fact that no one would ever remember it, and held the passenger door for her. She made a mental note to tell him later about the security app and slid onto the seat.

“But you said you didn’t want me staying alone. Does room service now offer security detail?” she asked as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

He cleared his throat. “I’ll be staying with you, of course.”

His words were music to her ears. The idea of being cooped up alone in a hotel room was thoroughly depressing since she’d done it a thousand times before. Some people loved having a room and king-size bed to themselves. For Rose, it was a reminder of how little love she had in her life.

Ugh, enough with the woe-is-me thoughts. You can have a pity party later when no one is around to witness it.

Luckily she had something to take her mind off the break-in, off her strained relationship and unrelenting distrust of her father. Max was exactly what she needed to get out of her funk.

He started the car and headed slowly down her street, his features set as hard as stone. Max was good-looking if you liked ruggedly handsome, unshaven guys with jawlines sharp enough to carve a Thanksgiving turkey. Honesty, who wouldn’t like that?

His dark hair was slightly too long to be fashionable, and the perma-scowl he wore did nothing to highlight his naturally full lips, though she was sure she could coax those bad boys out of their flat line. She had just the activity to put them to better use...

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re kind of serious?” she said, her voice just saccharine enough that he would realize she was tugging his strings.

“Would you want someone charged with your protection to be anything but serious?” He raised a brow but didn’t move his eyes from the road.

“I get it. You have an important job. But I have the feeling you’d be superserious even if the situation didn’t call for it.” She tapped a fingertip to her lower lip, studying him openly. “Like you’d have the same facial expression even if you were scrambling eggs.”

“I poach my eggs. It requires a lot of concentration.” Not a single muscle twitched on his face.

“Remind me to take you along next time I play Texas Hold ’em.” She stretched in her seat, arching her spine and pushing out her chest to see if he would look. He didn’t.

“I don’t gamble.”

“You don’t play poker or scramble your eggs? Gee, what do you do for fun?”

He didn’t answer her question. Silence filled the car and Rose fiddled with the buckle on her seat belt. She would kill for some music right now, even the incessant honking of cabs. Anything. Silence was her enemy.

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” she asked.

That got his attention. Max turned his head, flicking his dark eyes over her. His frown deepened.

“I don’t need to like you to do my job.”

“That’s exactly the resounding reassurance I was looking for.” She rolled her eyes. “Not that I care.”

“Then why did you ask?”

She shrugged and raked a hand through her cropped waves. “You didn’t answer my last question.”

“I’m not here to reassure you about anything other than your physical safety. I’m not going to tuck you in at night and read you bedtime stories.” He glanced at her. “Though I’m sure there would be guys lining up to fill that position.”

Between working at the store and designing jewelry, she didn’t exactly get out much. Any free time was spent checking out the competition, taking pictures of her pieces to post online and working on the website she hoped to launch in the new year. Sure, she’d left a string of boyfriends behind her in London, but she’d been the one making the first move...not that she had a problem with that.

“Probably a good thing you’re not up for a bedtime story. I’m reading that book about the guy with the ‘play room.’ You know, BDSM is all the rage now.”

Baiting the bodyguard probably wasn’t the smartest idea that Rose had ever had, but, dammit, she needed a little fun right now. Ruffling the feathers of Max Ridgeway definitely counted as fun. To her delight, a light flush spread over his cheeks.

“Yeah, there’s this one scene where he paddles the girl. Oh, and another with a sex swing. Very kinky. I’m not sure you’d enjoy it.”

They stopped at a red light and Max stared at her. The blacks of his pupils flared. His lips twisted up at the corner. Seriousness had given way to something else; his mask cracking to reveal a hint of something real. A delicious, sensual edge that set Rose’s whole body on red-alert.

“You have no idea what I like.”

“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy to be into the kinky stuff. Poached eggs seem a little vanilla to me... That’s all I’m saying.” She patted his arm. “Feel free to prove me wrong, though.”

He turned back to the road. “I think I preferred you this morning when you were determined to ditch me.”

“Yes, but it seems I do need you.” She wrinkled her nose. The thought of relying on him irritated her. “I may as well have a little fun.”

“This isn’t a game, Rose.” He shook his head, his tone admonishing her as though she were a naughty child caught with her hand in the cookie jar. If only the cookie jar were his pants...

“You would say that.”

They pulled up in front of a small, out-of-the-way hotel that Rose didn’t recognize. Christmas lights decorated two small trees at the entrance. A wreath hung over the door, obscuring the fancy design on the glass.

“It’s not The Plaza, but I guess it will do,” she quipped, waiting to see if Max would bite.

“Go straight inside. I’ll grab your bag and meet you at the check-in desk in a minute. Don’t talk to anyone.”

“Yes, sir.” She gave him a mock salute and pushed out onto the street, stealing a glance around.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, her skin prickling with awareness. Surely Max would know if someone had followed them. That was his job, right? Swallowing her nerves, Rose strode into the hotel. People milled about, the uniformed staff bustling and serving customers.

A mother with a screeching toddler was trying desperately to bribe him into the stroller with a chocolate bar. Two businessmen sat in the foyer huddled over a laptop. A guy with tattoos on his forearms sat alone, a newspaper folded in his lap. His eyes swept over Rose, burning intently into her. She swallowed and looked away, silently praying that he wouldn’t approach her.

The burgeoning bruise on her cheek pulsed and she raised her fingers to it, suddenly self-conscious that people might stare at her. Where the hell was Max? Surely he should be inside by now.

A hand landed heavily on her shoulder and Rose gasped, her heart lodging in her windpipe.

“It’s just me,” Max said, handing her a key card. “I checked us in.”

“I didn’t see you.” Adrenaline coursed through her, making her hands tremble as she took the plastic card from him.

“You’re safe with me, Rose.” He dragged her suitcase behind him and pressed his free hand against her lower back, guiding her toward the elevators. “I’m good at my job.”

The gesture was simple, commanding and comforting. He was in charge here, she was in his domain. Under his rule.

He released her as they stepped into the elevator and her skin cried out at the loss of his touch. Was she so desperate for affection that she craved it from a guy who’d all but admitted he disliked her?

Pathetic. You’ve officially reached a D-grade celebrity, Real Housewives-level of sadness. Next stop, the Big Brother house.

Max typed on his phone, seemingly unaware of her inner crazy. He looked delectable in his skin-hugging jeans, faded T-shirt, leather jacket and scuffed boots. Casual and totally perfect. His fingers flew over the screen of his smartphone, dexterous and nimble. She swallowed, wondering what those fingers would feel like on her, teasing her. Coaxing her.

The elevator pinged and Max shoved the phone into his back pocket, motioning for her to exit first. The hallway of the boutique hotel was a little kitsch, the exposed brick and ornate carpet hinting at another time. Their suite was the one closest to the elevator. Was that so they could make a quick getaway?

Stop being so paranoid. This will probably blow over before you know it. Don’t turn into a baby now! Not with something much more interesting to focus on...

* * *

MAX CHECKED IN with the assignment manager at Cobalt & Dane Security and let him know that he would be watching over Rose tonight. He logged their location—using the required location alias—should anything happen. The hotel was on the company’s list of approved safe houses and he knew there were two security consultants who lived in the same block should he need backup tonight.

Doing things “by the book” had always been his style. He’d been the third generation to join the Victoria Police, and his family had instilled in him a strong sense of obligation and obedience. But the rules didn’t offer him the same comfort they once had. He’d followed orders every day of his career and now, because of his loyalty to the rules, Ryan was dead.

His best friend gone. Forever.

No way was he making that same mistake again. Speaking of Rose, she was one thing not going his way. He wondered if he was being punished for fucking up everything back home. She was exactly the kind of client he didn’t want: headstrong, argumentative. Tempting beyond all belief.

Hell, seeing the expensive lingerie strewn all around her bedroom had done crazy things to him. He couldn’t help but picture how amazing she would look in the red lace teddy he’d spied hanging off one of her bed posts. Maybe she had stockings to match. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair.

“How long did you book us in for?” Rose asked as she opened the door to their suite and flicked on the light.

The suite was modest and simply furnished, but the couch looked comfortable enough, and it had a direct line of sight to the bedroom door. That would be good for his duties, bad for his sanity.

Outside, the night had bloomed. The sky was a blanket of twinkling city lights on a background of deep indigo. The hotel had a partial view of the Manhattan skyline, though partial in this case amounted to about 10 percent.

New York still overwhelmed him. He’d grown up in the country, only moving to Melbourne when his father had accepted a promotion to superintendent. Melbourne had felt huge at the time, but New York was like a monster that had eaten several smaller cities for breakfast. It was louder, faster, more aggressive. The sheer volume of people and vehicles still fascinated Max, still made him feel far away from home.

“I only booked us for tonight,” he replied, setting Rose’s suitcase against the wall. “We’ll check out tomorrow morning and head straight back to your apartment.”

“To survey the damage,” she muttered. Her full lips pursed for a moment, her yellow-green eyes blazing like fire. “Bastards. They’re not going to bring me down.”

In that moment, he saw who she was for the first time. The real Rose. Not the princess who’d graced his office this morning. Not the taunting naughty-story-reading vixen. No, she was a passionate businesswoman determined to make it on her own. Determined to maintain her independence. She had a chip on her shoulder, and that made him like her even more...despite her assumption that he didn’t like her at all.

“Do you have any idea who might be behind the break-ins, Rose?”

She sucked on her lower lip, shaking her head in slow swishing movements. “Not really. I barely know anyone in the city.”

“There’s no one from London who might have followed you?”

A wicked smile curved the corner of her lips. “I dated a writer from a fancy magazine in the UK and it ended abruptly. But I doubt he’d follow me here.”

“You don’t look too sad about it.”

“He was terrible in bed. It was never going to last.”

She took out her earrings and rolled them in her hand, making them catch the light and glimmer, playing with them as though they were worry beads.

“What about your father? Does he have any enemies?”

“You’d need to ask someone who knows him.” She laughed, the bitter sound wrenching in Max’s chest. “He deals antiques. Could he have screwed someone on a price? I honestly wouldn’t have a clue.”

Max nodded, picked up her suitcase and walked to the bedroom. “You should probably get some rest.”

The bedroom was as modest as the lounge area. A king-size bed took up most of the space, the cream linens contrasting with the exposed redbrick wall and a plain lamp on the nightstand.

He imagined her splayed across that bed, the lamplight dancing across her pearly skin. He pictured just how magnificent her breasts would be unconfined, weighty in his palms. Slick beneath his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, coming up beside him and placing her earrings on the nightstand. Her eyes analyzed him, shrewd. Assessing.

“They’re worth more than a penny right now,” he muttered, tossing her suitcase on the bed.

Her hands went to the back of her necklace. She fiddled with the clasp for a minute and then paused. “Can I borrow your hands?”

Hell yes, you can.

She turned her back to him, bending her head forward to expose the clasp of her necklace. He brushed aside the hair at the nape of her neck and felt a tremor run through her. The clasp was small and fiddly. His fingers swept against her smooth skin as he fumbled like a teenage boy tackling a bra clasp for the first time.

The thought sent a wave of heat through him. If only she’d move closer, arch against him. The clasp finally released and he stepped away, dazed by the scent of her perfume and the heady rush of lust.

Abort! Abort! Get the fuck out of there. NOW.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside. Make sure the window is locked.”

He checked the bathroom and closet, satisfied that the room was secure. She continued to remove her jewelry, sliding the bangles over her slender wrists and hands. The tinkling sound of precious metals clouded his mind. As her hands reached for the hem of her top he turned and left the room.

“Sweet dreams,” she called after him.


3 (#ulink_bfea40d5-fa3a-5ee8-8f1d-6b81a235d173)

ROSE LAY IN bed staring at the ceiling so intently she could have burned a hole through it. Every creak of the floor above her pushed slumber further away. Every groan of the building, every slamming of a door, every noise from the streets below made her twist and turn until the bedsheets were wrapped around her like a python going in for the kill.

Knowing that Max was mere feet away didn’t help, either. The way he’d brushed the back of her neck while taking off her necklace earlier had been fuel to her flames. As grouchy and stern as he was, she’d seen a hint of fire in him. He’d comforted her when she’d been worried about her safety. He’d challenged her when she’d questioned his taste.

Huffing, she threw back the sheets and sat up. New York was never truly dark. Lights twinkled outside her room and filtered in through the flimsy curtains. The wail of a siren broke through the city hum.

You’re never going to sleep now. You may as well have a little company...

Rose frowned in the darkness. She ached for comfort, for strong arms around her. She was sick of going to bed solo every night. Sure, she knew how to take care of her own pleasure...but it wasn’t the same. Max was gorgeous and he was right here. It wouldn’t be so bad to indulge, would it? One night to take the edge off her loneliness.

She’d never admit it, but she needed Max now...in more ways than one. What if the people chasing her couldn’t find what they wanted and they decided to kill her?

Did she really want to die alone?

Rose turned on the lamp and looked at herself in the ornate, full-length mirror. No, she most certainly did not want to die alone. Slipping her pajama shorts down her legs, she stifled a laugh. It wasn’t the first time she’d set out to seduce a guy, but seducing a bodyguard was definitely new.

Silk and lace replaced cotton. She slipped one of the fluffy white hotel robes over the lilac thong and bra she’d tossed into her suitcase, and stuffed the “just in case” condom from her wallet into the robe’s pocket. She sucked in a breath and double checked her reflection. Without makeup, the evidence of a few sleepless nights encircled her eyes in dark smudges. No matter, she’d direct his attention elsewhere.

The carpet silenced her footsteps as she padded to the door. Pressing her ear against the wood, she held her breath. Nothing. No light filtered in from the next room. He must be sleeping.

Easing down the handle, she pushed the door forward and squeezed through the opening, trying to make as little noise as possible. She didn’t even breathe for fear of waking him too early and spoiling her sneak attack.

“What are you doing?” Max’s voice cut through the darkness like a blade.

Rose let the door fall open all the way, sending lamplight flooding into the rest of the suite. “How are you awake?”

“I’m a light sleeper. It comes with the job.”

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the door frame. He’d all but pinned her up against one just like it earlier that day. She’d been annoyed at her body’s response at the time, cursing the way his proximity had made her throb and ache and want all kinds of delicious, sinful things.

Now she fully intended to scratch that itch.

“What are you doing?” he repeated.

He sat on the couch, still in his T-shirt and jeans but barefoot. His shaggy brown hair stuck up in all directions. Something poked out from under one of the throw cushions. Was that his pistol?

“I can’t sleep.” She walked over to the couch and dropped down next to him. “I figured you might want some company.”

“Two minutes ago you thought I was sleeping.” The light filtering in from the bedroom cast shadows across his face, making the angle of his jaw seem even sharper and more devastating.

“But you’re not. So we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Men never want to talk. But I can talk at you until you talk back.” She grinned at his exasperated sigh.

“You always get what you want, don’t you?”

The answer to that question used to be a resounding no, since all she’d wanted growing up was a normal life with a normal family. She wanted parents who loved her and loved one another. But she’d never got that, and eventually she’d realized that love and trust were about as real as Santa Claus.

Then she’d focused on wanting sex and her nos changed to yeses.

“I always go after what I want,” she said carefully. “And right now I want to talk to you. Or is that not in your job description?”

He paused and a hint of a smile passed over his lips, but he shifted on the couch and made space for her.

“Why did you come to New York?” she asked, watching his face carefully.

“Next question.”

“That was supposed to be my easy lead-in question.”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately it doesn’t have an easy answer. Let’s just say I’m here for work.”

Tension radiated from him. Once more his lips were set in a hard line, his gaze focused on something she couldn’t see. Something she didn’t want to see from the pain that flashed across his eyes.

“What do you do for fun? I know I asked that one before, but you didn’t answer me.”

“I run.”

“Exercise isn’t fun. Everybody knows that.” She rolled her eyes and gave him a light shove. His biceps were rock-hard and the playful touch felt illicit.

“And what do you do for fun, Rose?”

“I watch movies,” she said. “Action movies specifically. Guns, explosions. Vintage Arnie.”

He turned to her, his brow raised. “I would never have taken you for an action-movie fan.”

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” She rolled her eyes. “I drink whiskey, too. Are you shocked?”

“I pegged you for a thriller or mystery buff.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You seem like the type who’d prefer to figure out the solution to a problem than watch the good guy save the world.”

His assessment made her smile, so she didn’t give him a hard time about it. “I like playing cards, too,” she added.

“I used to play cards with my father,” Max replied.

“I thought you didn’t gamble.”

“We didn’t, not really.” For a moment his eyes drifted, a far-off look softening his features. “My mother had a box of old one-and two-cent coins that we’d use to buy-in. Winner got their choice of dessert.”

“Do you miss your parents?”

“Yes.”

Something about his tone stopped her from pressing further. Perhaps it was because she empathized with missing family. Though for her it was more that she missed the family she’d had before her parents had grown to hate one another.

“Did you really come out here to ask me about my family?”

“No.” She tilted her head and fiddled with the belt of her robe. “But I get the impression that you don’t have many people to talk to.”

“Why? Because I’m a man?”

“Touché.” A soft laugh escaped her lips. “You’re running away from something in Australia. You got all sad when you mentioned your family, and you haven’t exactly called anyone here to let them know you’re not coming home tonight.”

He swallowed, the bob of his Adam’s apple catching her attention. He pushed a hand through his hair, thrusting the overlong strands back and rubbing at the nape of his neck. She wanted those hands on her, wanted to know if they were as strong and skilled as she suspected.

“And you didn’t call anyone to reassure her that spending the night in a hotel with a woman is strictly business.”

“It is strictly business,” he said, looking into the black depths of the hotel room.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

“I should recommend that Cobalt & Dane hire you,” he joked. “You’re quite the investigator.”

“Just observant.” She shrugged. “I learned to read people early on. It’s kind of a necessity when you’re around bad-tempered people.”

He frowned. “Who had a bad temper?”

“My dad.” She squared her jaw, refusing to let him see her sadness. “I learned to pick up the signs if he’d had a bad day at work. Then I steered clear.”

“Smart girl.”

* * *

A STRANGE FEELING clutched at Max’s chest as Rose sat there, her face ethereal in the light pouring in from the bedroom. He’d judged her this morning, labeled her. He’d been happy to stereotype her and move on.

That wasn’t like him at all. At one point he’d been an advocate for treating people fairly, without presumption. Now he was just as bad as those jaded cops he hated, the ones who gave all officers a bad name. Max swallowed, guilt seeping through him like a toxin.

“No one’s ever called me smart before,” she said grudgingly.

Without makeup she looked younger, more vulnerable. The bruise had deepened on her cheek, marring her otherwise perfect skin. The intruder had been able to hurt her because Max hadn’t kept her in his line of sight. He vowed then to never let that happen again.

“I’m not trying to win your sympathy,” she continued, narrowing her eyes at him as if warning him not to be kind to her. “It’s a fact.”

“I believe you.”

“I think we’re more alike than you first assumed.” She shifted on the couch and moved closer to him.

Her robe loosened, revealing a triangle of pale skin across her décolletage. The fluffy white fabric hugged the slope of her breasts, revealing the barest hint of creamy cleavage. The delicate bumps of her collar bone were exaggerated by the angle of the light; the slender length of her neck was exposed beneath her short hair.

“Do you?”

She nodded. “I think we’re two people who’ve been screwed over, who have to fend for ourselves. We don’t trust easily.”

“Are you sure you’re not a detective?”

Her words stirred something deep in his gut, a feeling that he’d packed down. Buried. Almost forgotten.

“Positive.”

“Who screwed you over?” This could be the perp. You’re not asking because you care.

“Next question,” she said with a sad smile.

“It could be helpful for the case, Rose. If there’s someone who might want to harm you...” He reached out and touched her arm.

The minute his hand connected with the robe he knew he’d made a mistake. She moved forward, her face coming closer to his. Her breath was warm on his ear, the scent of her perfume soft and gentle in the air, mingling with the scent of mint on her lips. Desire rocketed through him, unleashing the force of months of loneliness. “You won’t hurt me.” A statement, a demand.

“I’m here to protect you.” He choked the words out, the onslaught of arousal clouding his mind.

She cupped the side of his jaw and turned it until they were face to face, her thumb stroking his lips. “I want you to do more than protect me.”

He shook his head to dislodge the voice screaming yes! “It’s my job to ensure your safety. That’s it.”

“You’re not on the clock now.” Her other hand found its way to his thigh.

God, he was so hard. His cock strained against the zipper of his jeans, creating a solid ridge beneath the denim. If she brushed her hand just a little higher...

It had been so long since he’d had sex...months. Since he’d walked away from his job, his family and his fiancée, women had been few and far between. A one-night stand every so often, one fling that had lasted a week. No emotional involvement, no commitment, no expectations.

That was all he could fit into his life. Hell, it was all he could fit into his mind.

“Let’s distract ourselves.” She pressed her lips to his jaw.

Need ran through him, lighting up his body like a Christmas tree. “Rose,” he growled.

Her hands went straight to the knotted belt of her robe. The fabric parted to reveal paradise. Pale skin stretched out in sloping curves, the rise and fall of her breasts giving way to a smooth stomach, rounded hips and slender legs.

A scrap of pale lace covered her breasts, but did nothing to hide their beauty. Her nipples pressed through the fabric and he fought the urge to take one into his mouth.

“We need to deal with this sexual tension. It’s going to get in the way if we don’t.”

“What tension?” Had he been that obvious?

“I see the way you’ve been looking at me, Max.” She pushed up and straddled him. “You want me.”

Her thighs pinned him down, and it was all he could do not to buck up against her. She draped her arms over the back of the couch on either side of his head, her breasts inches from his mouth.

“I’m supposed to be working.” He tilted his face up to hers.

She lowered down onto his erection. The heat of her sex made him groan, the anguished sound echoing in the quiet hotel room. She had him.

“Tell me you don’t want this.” She rolled her hips gently against his, increasing the pressure just enough to make spots dance in his vision. “I can feel that you want it.”

He knew it was wrong; it was totally against company policy to sleep with the client.

She’s not the client. What his bosses don’t know won’t hurt them...

“I want you, Max.” Her eyes were wide, blackened with arousal.

At the sound of his name on her lips his control shattered like glass against concrete. “I’m still not going to read you that bedtime story.”

“I can read on my own.” She reached for the hem of his T-shirt and tugged upward. “Or maybe I can read to you.”

He grabbed her by the hips, pressing her harder against him, grinding his erection against her heat. She fell forward, her lips coming down on the base of his neck. Teeth scraped as she worked her mouth up to his jaw, her hands under his T-shirt.

Heat consumed him as he slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue pushing between her lips and claiming her. He ran his hands up her arms, slipped them under the robe and pushed it from her shoulders. Without the extra fabric she felt small in his grip, his arm easily encircling her small waist and holding her tightly against him.

She rocked her hips, pushing him closer to the edge. Yanking the T-shirt over his head, she gasped as he moved his hand between them, pressing his thumb against her center through the lace of her thong.

“I want you,” she repeated, shoving his hands aside to get to his belt. “I need you inside me. Now.”

“Damn,” he muttered as she wrenched the buckle and zipper open. Her hand found him hard and throbbing.

“No underwear?” A cheeky grin spread over her face and she laughed. “I like it.”

“It’s laundry day.” He pressed his lips to her neck as she stroked the length of him, pausing to squeeze the tip before sliding her hand back down. “God, Rose.”

“Inside me,” she whispered into his ear. “Now.”

Growling, he hauled her off his lap and flipped her over so that she faced the back of the couch. He yanked down his jeans and fished out his wallet, praying his emergency condom would still be in there.

His fingers found the foil packet and he said a silent thank you to the sex gods. He sheathed himself and kicked off his jeans. A gasp escaped Rose’s lips as he stood behind her, trailing his hand down her spine and following his fingers with a line of hot, openmouthed kisses. Her back arched, thrusting her sweet ass against his crotch.

“Slowly,” he commanded.

He flicked the clasp of her bra, undoing it so that his hands could reach around her and palm her wonderfully full breasts. Heat radiated from her as he pressed his chest to her back, his cock digging into her thigh. The sound of their heavy breathing filled the air, her occasional gasp sending a jolt of excitement through him. Her nipples pebbled against his palms and he tugged on them, gently at first and then harder when she urged him on.

“Please,” she begged.

“Ladies first.” He slid one hand down her stomach and found the hem of her thong.

Not being able to see her face, he was forced to listen for her cues, to feel her reactions instead of relying on his eyes. He slipped a hand down her panties and found the tight bud of her clitoris, slick with arousal.

“You’re such a gentleman,” she quipped pressing against his hand with a sharp moan.

He circled her, dipping his fingers inside her and then pulling back out. She moved against him, whimpering each time his fingers left her, her nails digging into his thighs. Controlling her orgasm, knowing he was in charge of her pleasure made him even hotter, even harder.

When she shattered, he pressed his mouth down on her shoulder, scraping his teeth against the skin while she shouted his name. He couldn’t wait any longer. As she rode the last waves of her orgasm, he tore her panties to the side and pushed into her with a long, hard thrust. Tightness and heat enveloped him, fogging his mind and stealing his breath.

He wound his arms around her waist and thrust into her over and over. She braced herself against the back of the couch, her hips bucking to meet him stroke for stroke. Sweat beaded on her skin, dampening him as he pressed against her. The heady scent of sex filled his nostrils, pushing him closer to nirvana.

“Harder, Max.” She turned so that her cheek pressed against his face. “Don’t hold back.”

Heat colored her cheeks and her full lips parted. Brushing a damp strand of dark hair from her forehead, he kissed the shell of her ear. As his orgasm slammed into him, he pressed her hard against the back of the couch, relishing the skin-to-skin contact.

Silence engulfed them, the echoes of their pleasure reverberating in his mind. Rose stilled beneath him, falling back so that he supported her weight completely. Sighing contentedly, she lolled her head against his chest.

“See,” she said, her breathing labored. “No more tension.”

He didn’t believe her.

He eased her down onto the couch, her legs dangling off the edge, before he jumped up to dispose of the condom. When he came back to her, he gathered her in his arms and they stretched out on the couch together.

She turned, half curled into his side, half draped across him. Her breasts pressed into his rib cage and her hand traced a swirling pattern in the hairs that dusted the tops of his thighs.

“I guess I was right when I said you always get what you want,” he said.

Guilt swirled in the edge of his consciousness as reality dawned that he’d broken the rules with her. But the total satisfaction that fatigued his body overrode the rule follower within him.

Rose made him feel freaking incredible.

“I’m a persistent woman.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “But you wanted this as much as I did. Don’t try to deny it.”

“If I didn’t want it, it wouldn’t have happened.” His hand ran over the curve of her hip. “I do have some control.”

“I get the impression you have too much control.” Her eyes assessed him, and it was as if she could peer straight into him and read the pain etched on his soul.

He didn’t like it one damned bit.

“Want to test that theory?” he asked, moving his hand up to cup her breast, weighing it in his palm.

Since he’d already broken the rules tonight, how could it hurt to take full advantage of the situation? He’d be good tomorrow.

She shivered as he brushed a thumb over her nipple. “Is that your way of asking for round two?”

A throaty hum of pleasure filled the room as he pressed his lips to the spot between her neck and her shoulder, continuing to tease her nipple with his thumb. Redness marred her skin where his stubble had chafed against her. The sight filled him with a primal desire, and he hardened.

Her hand traced his cock from root to tip, squeezed him. Pleasure blinded him for a split second.

“As much as I would love to continue, there’s a slight problem,” he said, unable to stop his hips from pressing forward into her hand.

“What’s that?”

“We’re out of condoms.”

A cheeky smile passed over her lips. “Luckily you’re not the only one who came prepared.”

She reached down to the puddle of white fluff on the floor and fished around in the robe’s pocket. A flash of silver caught the light as she produced the foil packet and tore it open without hesitation.

Thank. God.

“You’re a regular Girl Scout,” he said, allowing his eyes to shut as she rolled the condom down onto him, slowly and deliberately.

She straddled him, easing herself down onto his cock and pulling his hands up to her hips.

“I might be prepared—” she placed her hands on his chest and lowered herself until her lips came to rest by his ear “—but a Girl Scout I am not.”

Turning his head to capture her mouth, he wrapped his arms around her and forced the last sliver of space to close between them. Skin to skin, they were fused from the mouth down. Her weight pressed him gently into the couch, her thighs locked against his hips. Holding him in place. Controlling their rhythm.

There was nothing sexier than a woman who knew what she wanted. And by the way she ground herself against him, Rose must have a clear picture of where she was going. But he could help things along.

Gripping her hips, he thrust up against her, brushing his pubic bone against the core of her sex. A shudder shot through her and she gasped into his mouth. Yes, he knew exactly what spot to hit.

She clenched around him, her body jerking away.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, holding her down against him.

“Max,” she moaned, her face pressed against the side of his neck. “It’s too much, it’s too soon. I—”

He slipped his hand between them and found her clit, swollen and needy. “There’s no such thing as too much.”

She started to protest but her words turned into a garbled mess as she rocked against him, seeking her release. With her facing him this time, he watched her beautiful features contort as she came hard against his hand. Her sex clenched around him and her eyes squeezed shut.

He drank her in with greedy eyes, feasting himself on her pleasure until he followed her over the edge.

Satisfaction rippled through him, weighing down his muscles.

Rose was not a woman to be underestimated. She liked to be in control, and he’d have to keep a close eye on her. For some reason, the thought of doing that felt a lot more enticing to him now than it had this morning.

Curled up against his chest, she seemed small all of a sudden. The bruise on her cheek had morphed to a deeper shade of purple.

He would protect Rose. She may not want a bodyguard, but he would do everything in his power to keep her safe.

He brushed the hair from her face as if out of habit.

She is your job, nothing more. You will protect her but you will not let her in. Got it?

It would be easier said than done.


4 (#ulink_068fe507-62d0-5bb1-8e8a-e67fce6858fa)

ROSE SQUINTED AS she woke to the bright morning light streaming through the blinds of her hotel room. Her body ached with delicious post-romp satisfaction, and her mind was filled with the memory of Max’s lips on her. And his hands... Oh, boy, did he know how to use his hands.

She vaguely remembered him carrying her into the bedroom at some deep, dark point of the night. But her hand darted out to touch the cold space on the other side of the bed, confirming that he hadn’t joined her. Pity.

Rolling onto her side, she snuggled farther down into the sheets. Morning wasn’t her friend. In fact, Rose was strictly against any kind of activity that required brain power before ten o’clock.

Footsteps sounded outside the room and she glared at the door, hoping Max would leave her alone for at least another hour.

A single knock broke through the silence. Who used a single knock? Super serious bodyguards who valued efficiency. That’s who. She stifled a smile.

“I’m sleeping,” she called out.

His sigh came through the door loud and clear. “You don’t sound like you’re sleeping.”

“Well, I am.” She pulled the covers up to her chin and closed her eyes. “And I need my rest.”

He chuckled. “I have coffee.”

Her eyes snapped open but she didn’t move. Staying in bed meant she could live a little longer in denial about the break-ins, but the lure of caffeine was strong.

“You’re going to have to face the world sooner or later,” he said, as if reading her mind. “You may as well do it with a hot drink in your hand.”

“Damn you and your logic.” She threw off the covers and walked to the door naked. She opened it just enough to stick out her arm and when she felt the mug pressed into her hand, she retreated into the bedroom.

“You’re welcome,” he said through the closed door.

After downing her coffee, Rose showered and changed into a set of clean clothes. She should have felt better. The operative word being should.

Butterflies danced in her stomach as she repacked her suitcase. Ever since she’d arrived in New York, something had been off. As much as she’d acted nonchalant in her meeting with Max yesterday, the truth was she hadn’t been herself since she’d come home.

The idea of home seemed intangible...and confusing.

Her father had hounded her from the moment she’d landed, emails from him piling up in her inbox until she’d caved and given him her phone number. The second she’d hit Send she’d known it was a mistake. Now he wanted to catch up, do coffee, pretend they hadn’t been estranged for the past decade and a bit.

But she couldn’t forget. She’d given up hope a long time ago that they would ever have a normal relationship and she certainly had not returned to New York for him. Though he didn’t seem to believe it.

“Checkout is in five minutes.” Max stood in the doorway to her room, his coat slung over one arm, phone in his free hand.

“You didn’t spring for a late checkout?” she asked as she stuffed the last of her toiletries into the suitcase and dragged the zip closed.

“We’ve got plenty to keep us busy today. Do you need to call the shop and tell them you won’t be in?”

She shook her head. “It’s my day off. I was supposed to be working on a commission piece.”

“That’ll have to wait. We need to go through everything in your place and work out what, if anything, has been stolen. I’ll also run through some questions with you to help narrow down any possible suspects.”

“You sound more like a cop than a bodyguard.” She put the suitcase on the ground and pulled up the handle but Max took it from her as she walked past him. “And you don’t have to carry my things for me.”





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