Counterfeit Relations (Alaskan Security: Team Rogue Book 2)

by Jemma Westbrook

  Like she was crazy again.

  But the way he was looking at her now might be the most interesting of them all. Brock still looked like he thought she was crazy and the biggest pain in the ass he’d ever met, but now there was something more in his eyes.

  Heat.

  Until now she hadn’t worried about her attraction to him. Figured it was a safe one since Brock clearly found her undesirable. She thought she could admire all he had to offer without ever having to put her money where her mouth was.

  But the way he was looking at her made Eva think her money and her mouth might be fighting to get in the same place real soon.

  “Why in the hell are you in your underwear?” Brock’s voice was still a little rough from sleep and his dark hair stood up at the back of his head. He was fully dressed, but his feet were bare and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the tiniest peek at the wide plane of chest under it.

  Brock caught her eyes as they drifted down the open placket. His hands immediately went to the buttons of the deep-blue flannel and started working them together.

  It would figure he would be modest.

  “It’s not my underwear.” Eva stood up and motioned to her hip area. “These are boy shorts.” She pointed a finger at her chest. “And this is a sports bra. It’s athletic wear.”

  “My ass.” His eyes lingered on her a second longer before turning toward the kitchen. “For the love of God, put some damn clothes on.”

  “I can’t meditate in clothes. They’re too restricting.”

  “Is that what you call that?” His eyes barely flicked her way before he turned his back on her. “Looked a whole hell of a lot like you had gas.”

  “That is called the child’s pose and it is fantastic for finding your inner peace.” Eva propped her hands on her hips. “You should try it. Might improve your disposition.”

  “My disposition is just fine.” He yanked the pot off the coffee maker with more force than necessary and snapped on the faucet.

  “Clearly.” She stepped in beside him, watching as he filled the glass carafe. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  “I would say making coffee, except that doesn’t make any sense.” Eva moved in a little closer, stealing a little of the clean, masculine scent surrounding him.

  Part of her wanted Brock to find her as appealing as she found him. Maybe simply to have a man see her as something besides a threat. A— what was it her last mark called her?

  That’s right. A nosy cunt.

  And to be fair he wasn’t wrong about half of that. She was nosy. Everyone had secrets they buried as deep as they could.

  And she was a bloodhound, ready and able to find anything and everything, no matter how carefully it was hidden. It was the driving force behind her success.

  It also made her a little less than interested in forming any sort of bond with the opposite sex. She’d seen what men kept from the women they supposedly loved and vice versa.

  She saw how it ruined lives. Broke strong people down until they were nothing but dust.

  Luckily it didn’t seem like Brock had any interest in the sort of bad decisions a man like him made a girl more than happy to make.

  That meant all she had to do was continue to be herself. Clearly Brock found her irritating, which was perfect. It meant she could continue to sneak peeks and sniffs while imagining all the ways she would never get to know him.

  From a safe distance and without risk.

  Or reward.

  But whatever.

  Unless...

  “Didn’t you say you were a no-strings-attached kinda guy, Broccoli?”

  It might actually be the perfect thing to do while she was here, and the fact that Brock lived in Alaska and she lived in Ohio made everything so much more simple. A way to scratch an itch that she was having without worrying she might catch something terrible.

  Like feelings.

  Except Brock didn’t seem to be on board. Not even a little.

  His whole body went stiff beside her and the hand gripping the coffee pot’s handle tightened until his knuckles turned white.

  “So that’s a no then.” Eva made herself take a step back, but she couldn’t stop a sigh of disappointment from slipping out. “I just thought since we were pretending, we might as well—”

  Brock turned suddenly and whipped open the fridge, bending as he scanned the appliance from top to bottom.

  Like he had to look closer to see it was empty.

  “That’s what I was saying earlier.” Eva leaned back against the counter behind her, working to put a little more physical distance between them. “You ditched me last night before we went to the store.”

  Brock slammed the fridge shut and wiped one hand down his face. “Get dressed.” He shoved the coffee pot back on the maker and turned away, heading for the stairs to the basement. “Dress warm.” He turned his head to one side, barely looking at her over his shoulder. “I’m not watching you freeze.”

  Eva huffed out a breath. “I’m not stupid.”

  “Says the woman who tried to walk out of the airport without a coat.” Brock was already down the stairs, forcing her to chase after him.

  “That was before I knew how fucking cold Alaska was.” Eva stopped at the top of the stairs, expecting him to turn around. Maybe pause to argue a little more.

  Didn’t happen.

  “They don’t really fill you in on the flight.” She stomped down the stairs after him, an unexpected flare of aggravation spurring her on.

  She might be a little mad he abandoned her last night. Just hid in the basement.

  No explanation. No food in the place.

  No keys to escape with.

  Then again, maybe she was just hungry.

  “And you could have maybe been nice to me about it. Said ‘Oh, hey Eva. It’s fucking cold outside. You might want to put on a coat or something’.” She followed him into the theater room, catching up as the lingering frustration that started when she found out she was being shipped here flared to full-fledged anger.

  Anger with Mona and Chandler. Anger with whoever was behind the bullshit that was happening back home.

  Anger with herself for being upset that Brock found her irritating.

  Who the fuck cared what this guy thought? It’s not like he even knew her.

  “But all you do is glower at me.” Eva almost ran into his back as Brock stopped abruptly.

  Then he turned and leaned in closer. “Glower? What the fuck is a glower?”

  “It’s a...” All thought left. Her brain was a void.

  A word void. Images it was totally still good with.

  Images of Broccoli brought on by his closeness.

  The glower he was sporting.

  Glower. That was it.

  “It’s a scowl.” Her eyes fell to his lips and lingered. “You’re always scowling at me because you don’t like me.”

  “I never said I didn’t like you.” Brock’s tone was softer than normal.

  Lower.

  “You didn’t have to.” It took everything in her to look him in the eye. “It’s fine. I think there’s a whole club of men who don’t like me.”

  His eyes sharpened. “A club?”

  “Not literally a club.” Clearly there wouldn’t be an actual organization dedicated to the dislike of her.

  Brock stepped closer, his size suddenly feeling much larger than she remembered. “Who doesn’t like you, Eva?”

  Oh lord it was hard to breathe.

  He should not say her name. Not like that anyway. Deep and a little dark.

  Especially since Brock made it clear he was not interested in being anything more than a hired watchman.

  “Lots of people.” Her eyes fell back to his mouth.

  How would a man like Broccoli kiss a woman?

  Probably like he fucking owned them.

  Eva shivered a little at the thought. She’d never been owned by a man. Didn’t want
to be.

  Except maybe in the bedroom, and she would put all her money on the fact that Brock owned whoever he took to his bed.

  “I need you to be more specific.” Brock moved in a little more, bringing his body within inches of hers. “I want names.”

  “I don’t think the who really matters.” Eva’s mouth moved on its own, her brain somehow managing to carry on a decently lucid conversation while it conjured up all sorts of coital possibilities involving the man in front of her. “Are you sure you’re not up for a no-strings-attached sort of thing?”

  Her eyes snapped to his as a low rumble moved through his chest. “You didn’t have to fucking growl at me. It was an honest question.” Eva’s breath caught as Brock closed what was left of the space between them, his body barely ghosting against hers.

  “Don’t fucking ask me that again, understand?”

  Was he mad? He looked a little mad.

  But Brock also looked something else.

  Something that made her whole body buzz with a warmth she hadn’t felt since landing in this frozen tundra.

  “But you didn’t answer me.” She could barely get any volume behind the words because her lungs weren’t working just right.

  She wanted to touch him. Prove what she saw in his eyes was true.

  That he wanted her just as much as she wanted him.

  Eva’s fingers barely brushed the soft fabric of his shirt before Brock caught her by the wrist, holding her with a solid but gentle touch.

  His eyes were dark as they stared into hers. His head barely shook. “Not with you.”

  Ouch.

  That stung.

  He used his hold to push her away, toward the stairs. “Go get dressed.”

  Eva sucked in a breath and straightened her spine before yanking her hand free of his hold. “Fine.”

  And then she turned and did something she never did.

  She ran away, taking the steps two at a time, not slowing until her feet landed on the top floor.

  This was stupid. All of it.

  Being in Alaska.

  Wanting to bed bounce with Broccoli.

  Stupid.

  Maybe she was just sexually deprived.

  Eva snorted. There was no maybe about it.

  She peeked down the stairs. Maybe she could sneak into the bathroom for a little one on one time. Take the edge off until Brock barricaded himself back in the basement rather than sleep anywhere close to her.

  “Are you dressed yet?” His voice was loud and sharp.

  And irritated. Because of course it was.

  Her head dropped back and she stared up at the ceiling. “It’s been like thirty seconds.”

  “I’ll give you thirty more and then I’m leaving whether you’re in the car or not.”

  “You’ve got to be—”

  “One. Two. Three.”

  Was he seriously counting?

  “Christ.” Eva tore through her suitcase and grabbed the first articles of clothing she came across, pulling on a thick pair of fleece pants as she hopped toward the stairs. “You better not leave without me, Broccoli. I’ll kill you.”

  “Fifteen.”

  Eva bounced down the steps as she tugged her socks on. “You are an ass, has anyone ever told you that?”

  Brock’s eyes barely sparkled. “You are the first.”

  “I find that difficult to believe.” She dropped her boots to the wood floor and stomped her feet into their fur lining.

  “Most people find me charming.” Brock’s tone carried something surprising.

  Humor.

  “Are you making a joke, Broccoli?” Eva fought her way into the heavy sweater she carried from upstairs.

  “I’m actually being serious.”

  “Hm.” Eva pushed past him. “Charming my ass.” Her boots made heavy thumps on the stairs as she went to the basement. She opened the closet door and pulled out her coat.

  Brock’s eyes narrowed on the parka. “When did you bring that down here?”

  “Last night after you ditched me.” She smirked up at him.

  “You came downstairs?”

  Eva nodded.

  And maybe peeked in on him sleeping in the theater room.

  In his underwear.

  Brock was definitely a proportionate man. Not that she’d be getting any personal tours of his proportions.

  Which was fine. Better, probably.

  “You’re glowering at me again.” Eva zipped her coat to her chin.

  “It’s not at you.”

  She turned to look behind her, which wasn’t easy considering all the clothes she was wearing. “I’m the only one here.”

  Brock took a deep breath before blowing it out loud and long, like she was grinding on the last, tiny, shriveled bit of patience he had left. “You shouldn’t have been able to come downstairs.”

  Son-of -a— “I’m the one paying for this freaking place. I can go wherever the hell I want to.”

  Brock pinched the bridge of his nose. “I mean, I should have heard you come down the stairs.”

  She straightened, a little proud she got one over on the bodyguard. “I was quiet.”

  “Doesn’t matter.” He eyed her. “Why were you so quiet?”

  Eva lifted one shoulder and let it drop. She wasn’t normally one to hold back on the truth.

  Not ever, actually.

  But admitting she was trying to see what he’d rather be doing than bothering her seemed a little...

  Sneaky.

  Which was technically her livelihood, but still.

  “I guess I’m just a quiet person.”

  Brock’s laugh caught her completely off guard, making her take a full step back.

  “You are the least quiet person I know.” He paused. “One of them.”

  The momentary reprieve from his perpetual frown was gone in an instant. “Come on. Let’s go get some coffee before I lose my mind.” He pressed one hand into the small of her back and directed her toward the door leading to the garage.

  Why did they have to be in Alaska? Why not the Caribbean? Hawaii? Someplace where she would be able to feel where he was touching her.

  Skin on skin.

  Eva’s cheeks heated instantly at the thought.

  “Shit.” His hand dropped and Brock stepped away, disappearing into the theater room.

  Jesus. Was he getting his panties in a bunch over her thoughts now?

  Brock was back in under a minute, a tiny plastic baggie in his hand. “I forgot to give this to you.”

  Eva eyed the small package. “What is it?”

  “A ring.” Brock pulled open the zipper and turned the contents out into his palm.

  Sure enough, it was a damned ring. “What in the hell is that?”

  Brock pinched the solitaire between his thumb and first finger and held it up between them. “I believe this is supposed to be your engagement ring.”

  “I don’t think that’s necessary.” Eva tucked her hands under her armpits.

  “I have a file that says it is.” Brock held his hand out, palm up. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

  “I don’t want that.” Eva stepped away from him.

  “I don’t care what you want.” Brock came closer, stealing back the space she gained. “It’s what will keep you safe.”

  She shook her head. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.” She pulled one hand free to point at him. “You’re supposed to be what will keep me safe.” She snorted. “Not that it will be very difficult.”

  There was no one after her. Not really.

  Being here was just a precaution.

  “It’s turning out to be very fucking difficult.” Brock caught her outstretched hand and before Eva could stop him, he slipped the ring onto her finger.

  They both stared at it.

  Finally Eva lifted her hand up. Might as well look at the reminder staring her right in the face.

  At least it was pretty.

  She moved her hand from side to
side, letting the familiar sadness move in and trample any happiness she might have been harboring into dust. “Never thought I’d see that again.”

  CHAPTER 5

  HE SHOULD CALL Shawn. Tell him this wasn’t going to work. That someone else would do a better job of keeping Eva safe.

  It was probably true.

  Because right now all he cared about was who in the hell put a ring on her finger.

  “Again?”

  “Hmmm?” Her eyes didn’t meet his, instead they stayed locked on where he’d slipped the fake diamond in place.

  And it grated on him. Eva was thinking of another man.

  One who almost had her as his wife.

  “You said again. Like you’d been engaged before.”

  It sounded like he was accusing her of something. Like he thought she’d done something wrong by letting a different man claim her as his.

  “I was.” Her lips twisted to one side in a half purse that carried an edge of sadness.

  And this woman should never be sad. Not ever.

  “What happened?”

  Eva’s eyes finally came to his. “Are you actually trying to have a conversation with me, Broccoli?”

  “I just thought maybe it was why you were here. I thought it would be relevant information.”

  The lie was easy to give her. It was not as easy to digest.

  So he chose to ignore it.

  “Definitely not why I’m here.” She fished a glove out of one pocket and pulled it over the ringed hand. “We just went in different directions. It was a friendly break-up.”

  A friendly break-up? With this woman?

  “Are you positive he thought it was friendly?”

  No way would a man walk away from her willingly. Definitely not happily.

  Eva frowned at him. “Walter is happily married to another woman with a baby on the way.”

  “Doesn’t mean shit.”

  “It means he is definitely not the reason I was shipped here to bother you.” Eva wiggled the fingers of the other hand into their glove. “Are you ready to go? I haven’t eaten since I got on the plane yesterday and I’m going to get real pissy soon.”

  Goddamnit. “Why didn’t you say something?”

  “I did. As soon as we got here.” She lifted her brows. “And then you ran away and hid from me.”

  Brock braced one hand on her back and turned her toward the garage, pressing just enough to get her feet moving. “I wasn’t hiding.”