Counterfeit Relations (Alaskan Security: Team Rogue Book 2)

by Jemma Westbrook

  Didn’t really want to come here in the first place.

  Now she was wondering why in the hell Chandler would have chosen them.

  “I don’t set out to kill men, Eva.” His hand barely lifted toward her before falling back into place. “But I will do whatever it takes to keep the person I’m guarding safe. We all will.”

  “What about me?” What would have happened if the two men at the store had really been after her?

  Had tried something.

  Brock’s jaw clenched tight and she could swear his eye twitched. “I would do anything to keep you safe.”

  She chewed her lip. “You don’t have to kill anyone for me.”

  “I’ll take that under consideration.” He tipped his head toward the kitchen. “Go finish your dinner.”

  She pressed her palm to her belly, stifling the growl brought on by the reminder of the tofu sauté she started. “Okay.”

  Eva clicked on the stove. When she turned, Brock was on his way to the lower stairs. “Where are you going?” She fully faced him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  His eyes drifted to the fridge.

  “Have dinner with me.” She opened the refrigerator door and scanned the items Brock bought at the store. “You might have to make it yourself though, I don’t eat any of,” she waved her hand around the stack of packages taking up the entire middle shelf, “that.”

  The man bought an entire cow from the looks of it.

  “You don’t eat beef?” Brock was beside her, his voice low and soft.

  Eva shook her head. “I don’t eat anything with a face.”

  He leaned in close, gaze staying on her as he reached for one of the foam trays. “Vegetarian or vegan?”

  “Vegetarian.” She wrinkled her nose. “I just can’t stomach the idea of eating flesh.”

  He glanced down at the steak in his hand. “Will it bother you if I eat it?”

  “No. It’s fine.” It was mostly true. She tried really hard not to be bothered by the sight of people eating charred tissue.

  He slid the tray back into place. “What are you eating?”

  “Tofu.”

  “Which is?”

  “Curd made from soybeans.” It probably sounded as appetizing to Brock as his dinner sounded to her. “It’s like a sponge. It soaks up whatever flavors you put with it.”

  “Really?” Brock stepped to the stove where she abandoned her dinner. He picked up the pan and sniffed at the cubes before turning to her, one eyebrow lifted. “May I?”

  “You want to try tofu?” Most people were not extremely open-minded when it came to tofu.

  Brock shook his head. “I want to cook it for you.”

  She took the pan of half-cooked curd cubes from his hand and set it back on the stove. “Forgive me for not trusting your ability to make a quality dish out of something you’ve never eaten before.”

  “Then teach me.”

  She eyed him. “Why would you want to learn how to cook tofu?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?” Brock opened the cabinet where Eva stowed a handful of sauces she picked up at the store. “Teriyaki?”

  She swiped the bottle from his hand. “Thanks.”

  “What do you put in your gravy?” His voice was deep and dangerous in her ear.

  Eva kept her eyes on the pan in front of her. “I don’t think I understand what you’re asking.”

  “Biscuits and gravy.” Brock turned his back to the stove and leaned against it, close enough the outside of his thigh rested against hers. “What do you put in your gravy instead of sausage?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t make that.”

  “That’s tragic.”

  “Why is that tragic?” She stepped away from his closeness and went to work chopping a stack of peppers, mushrooms, and broccoli, trying to ignore the way he moved into her vacated spot, stealing back the space she was trying to put between them.

  “Because biscuits and gravy is the best breakfast food there is.” He picked up the spoon and gently moved the cubes of tofu around in the hot pan. “Let me guess. You only eat oatmeal for breakfast.”

  She gagged.

  Almost retched.

  It was a very sexy reaction no doubt.

  “No. No oatmeal. Ever.”

  Brock laughed softly. “I will keep that in mind.”

  Eva tossed the vegetables into the pan with the tofu. Brock spread them evenly with the spoon, making no move to give her the spot of dinner cook back.

  Somehow he’d demoted her to sous-chef.

  “Where are the bags of rice you bought today?” Brock started opening the cabinets around him until he found one of the already-cooked, microwave packages of ready rice. “You a convenience cooker, Tatum?”

  Was he digging at her for using premade rice? “I live alone. Why would I go to all the trouble to make a pot of rice for just me?”

  “Because it’s better.” Brock tossed the pack in the microwave and set it to cook.

  “Not thirty minutes of my life gone, better.” Eva grabbed the bottle of sauce and tried to twist the cap off, but before she could wrestle it free, Brock gently took it from her.

  “Go sit down. I’ll finish up.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Eva tried to grab the bottle back from him. “I am perfectly capable of making my own dinner. I’ve done it since I was a kid.”

  Brock’s gaze sharpened. “You made dinner as a kid?”

  Eva froze.

  Knowing other people’s business was her business.

  Sharing hers was something completely different.

  “It doesn’t matter.” She made another grab for the sauce, this time managing to take it out of Brock’s hand before immediately turning her back to him and pouring it over the vegetables and tofu.

  Hopefully he would lose interest and move on. Go down to his lair and hide for the rest of the night.

  “Obviously it does.” He came close at her back, his body barely ghosting hers. He reached around her to stir the contents of the pan with the spoon still in his hand. “I’ve never cooked dinner for a woman before.”

  The admission was so low she had to strain to hear it. Once she had, a thousand questions cluttered her brain.

  And she wouldn’t ask any of them.

  Because she didn’t want Brock asking her any.

  “Breakfast is a different story.”

  Her eyes widened as she stared down into the pan, watching Brock stir. And thank God he was, because right now she would have absolutely let everything burn.

  Because some teeny tiny, but highly active, part of her was very unhappy at the thought of Broccoli cooking breakfast for the women he’d taken to bed.

  Women who were not her. Because Brock didn’t want her in his bed.

  “I’m not hungry anymore.” Eva bumped his big body with her back, knocking him away so she could do what she should have done earlier.

  Escape.

  Get away from this man before she got stupid.

  Stupider.

  But Brock caught her around the waist, stopping her before she could get anywhere. “Hold up, Sunshine.”

  “Let me go.” Eva fought against his grip. Partly because she wanted away from him.

  Mostly because she didn’t.

  And that was not a good thing.

  Yesterday it seemed like having a little fun with Broccoli and then going on her merry way was the best idea she’d had all year. Hell, this morning it still sounded like a great plan.

  But somehow something shifted in the last few hours.

  And now being with Brock did not seem like a good idea at all.

  In spite of how good it still sounded.

  “Nope. Not until you tell me what just happened.” His arm was solid and warm around her body. Grounding.

  Eva shook her head. “No, thank you.”

  Lying wasn’t her style. Telling him nothing happened would be just that.

  He leaned down until his breath warmed the edge of her ear. “Ple
ase?”

  Where was the Brock who hid from her in the basement last night? What happened to the man who looked at her like she was the biggest pain his ass had ever seen?

  Because she liked him better. He was safer. Less likely to cause any sort of attachment.

  Fuck. That wasn’t true. She liked him then too.

  “God.” Eva pushed at his arm and this time he let her go. “I can’t be around you right now.” She stomped her way across the room to the stairs. This night was over.

  She needed to go to sleep and start fresh.

  The bed caught her as she fell face first into the blankets, burying her head under the pillows.

  Blocking it all out.

  Most of it anyway.

  She couldn’t seem to block out the fact that the teeny tiny part of her that was full of bad ideas was currently pouting because Brock let her go.

  Which is what she wanted him to do.

  She had to do something. Drastic. Now.

  Eva grabbed her bag and fished out the information from Shawn, picking up the cordless phone on the nightstand and punching in his number.

  He answered on the second ring. “Eva Tatum. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “How’d you know it was me?” She looked around the room. Tyson said he’d cleared the house. They wouldn’t have put cameras in it, would they?

  “This is the number for the house you rented. I’m a little offended you didn’t think I would know that.”

  “Oh.” They weren’t watching her every move. That was good.

  Because what if she had to fart?

  Scratch her ass.

  Pick her nose.

  Eva peered around the room, her eyes scanning all the nooks and crannies where a camera could be tucked. She slowly crawled off the bed.

  “Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Tatum?” Shawn sounded a little too accommodating. Not that he was an ass to her before, but he certainly was all business any time they spoke.

  “There is, actually.” She crouched down, slow-walking toward a fake plant in a large pot sitting in one corner of the room. She leaned around it, moving from side to side as she peered into the leaves. “I would like a new bodyguard.”

  “Are you unsatisfied with Brock?”

  That was a whole can of worms she had no intention of exploring. “He is perfectly fine. I just think we have conflicting personalities.”

  “Do you believe that will prohibit him from being able to keep you safe, Ms. Tatum?”

  There.

  Eva zeroed in on a tiny black device clipped to one of the hundreds of leaves on the giant plant, grabbing it and pulling it free.

  “Ms. Tatum?”

  “I think it’s just best if you send someone else.” She turned the thing around, looking until she found the small lens.

  Just as Eva pointed it at her face for a smile the phone was ripped from her hand.

  “Why the fuck is there a camera in her room, Shawn?”

  The vein was back in Brock’s forehead, protruding a little more with each passing second. His eyes were sharp and narrow, the flare of his nostrils making him look like a different man.

  “Where else are they?”

  He marched to the bed, depositing a tray she hadn’t noticed him holding on the mattress before going to the curtains, pulling them back and skimming his hands down the fabric. “If I find anything anywhere I shouldn’t I swear to God—”

  His mouth clamped shut as his fingers clenched the phone tight. “Goodnight, Shawn.” He disconnected the phone and turned to face her. “You want someone else here with you?”

  No. She didn’t.

  But she also didn’t want to want him with her.

  Which she did.

  “You don’t seem very happy with your assignment.” It was a cowardly thing to do. Deflecting the blame to him.

  One she would have called anyone else out on.

  “Fine.” Eva rubbed her face. “No. I don’t want someone else.” She dropped her arms to her sides and sucked in a steadying breath.

  Honesty was always the best policy. Always.

  “I do not get in relationships, Brock.” She wiggled her fingers, fighting for the truth she prided herself on always giving. “I just don’t do them, and I offered you a stringless opportunity and you turned me down, which is fine, but—”

  “You don’t seem fine with it.”

  “Shut up.” She continued on, riding the momentum because it might be the only thing to carry her through this. “Everyone lies. I see it every day and it has changed me.”

  That wasn’t completely true. She came into it already damaged.

  Went into her profession because of that damage. Used it as a way to seek a vengeance she would never have.

  “I don’t trust anyone, and if I can’t have something simple with a man then I don’t want to have it at all.”

  “So unless I’m willing to fuck you and walk away, you don’t want anything to do with me?”

  Initially that was her plan.

  But then he started growing on her. Like fungus.

  “I don’t think we should fuck at all, actually.”

  Brock’s lips barely twitched. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

  CHAPTER 9

  BROCK STEPPED IN close beside her, barely brushing Eva’s body with his as he reached for the tray of food he brought upstairs. “There’s no more cameras up here.”

  “Why was there one up here in the first place?” Eva glared at him. “I don’t appreciate being spied on. What if I was walking around up here naked?”

  “It was aimed at the stairs.” The reminder was more for his own sanity than to make her feel better. The idea of anyone watching Eva made his blood pressure skyrocket.

  Eva’s eyes moved to the stairs. “No one is coming up them.” Her chin barely lifted. “I’m sure those guys weren’t looking for me today.”

  “So am I.” Brock pulled the towel he’d draped over their dinner off the plates of vegetables and rice.

  And fucking tofu.

  “I’m serious. They weren’t—” She blinked at him, clearly surprised by his agreement. “Oh. Why do you think they weren’t here for me?”

  “Stalkers don’t normally hire outside help.” He nodded to the blanket-covered mattress. “Get comfortable.”

  Eva looked at the bed, then at the plate of food balanced on his palm. “You want me to eat in bed?”

  “Are you against eating in bed?”

  “No. I eat in bed all the time.” She eyed the food.

  “So do I.”

  Her gaze immediately jumped to his, eyes wide, cheeks pinking up instantly. Her dark hair was still a little wild from the wind. It fell long and loose around her shoulders, a thick mass of almost chaos that was a perfect fit for the woman wearing it.

  Calling Eva beautiful felt wrong. Not that she wasn’t.

  She was just so much more than that.

  And now that she claimed to no longer want to fuck him, it felt safe to admit to himself how fucking attractive he found her.

  And maybe be a little bit of the man he really was around her.

  Eva cleared her throat, eyes falling to the food in his hand. “Do you know who those men were?” She slowly eased onto the bed, propping up against the headboard.

  “Not yet.” Brock handed her the plate before picking up the other one. “Dutch and Harlow are working on it.”

  “I like her.” Eva stabbed her fork into the pile of food.

  “I knew you would.” Introducing Eva to Harlow was not something he intended to do. The two of them together would be dangerous. There was no telling the trouble they could cause.

  “I could help them.”

  The offer caught him by surprise. He’d only imagined the havoc the two of them could unleash just for fun. It never occurred to him they could also be a hell of a team professionally speaking.

  Eva didn’t seem to notice. “I mean, I was thinking about having you take me
to headquarters so I could get some work done tomorrow anyway.”

  “Why can’t you work here?” Taking Eva to headquarters today had been a necessity. Going back tomorrow would mean she would spend the whole day with Harlow.

  It was what he should want. The less time he spent with Eva the easier it would be to keep from thinking of her as anything more than his current assignment. And with Eva’s skills added to Dutch and Harlow’s they would no doubt be on the fast track to finding out who in the hell those men were.

  Not that he didn’t already have a good idea.

  “I could.” Eva shrugged. “But the internet is kind of spotty.”

  “Maybe for a few hours.” Brock took a bite of tofu. “It’s spongy.”

  “But in a good way.” Eva grinned at him as he struggled to get the bite down.

  “There’s a good spongy?” Brock nearly choked as he swallowed.

  “Cake is spongy.” Eva forked in a chunk of broccoli. “So’s bread.”

  He wanted to feed her cake and bread. Show her he wasn’t really what he led her to believe.

  “You eat cake and bread?”

  Eva’s brows lifted. “Uh. Yeah. They are the best part of life.” She shoveled in more of her dinner.

  “What about biscuits?”

  She nodded without looking up at him, all her attention staying on the pile of food diminishing by the second. “I guess.”

  “You guess? Breakfast is the best meal of the day.”

  Her eyes slowly lifted to his. “You just think that because it’s the only meal you don’t eat alone.”

  Brock stared at her for a second. “That’s not why.” He shifted a little on the edge of the bed. “It’s because it has the best food options.”

  “Mm-hmm.” She was back to being focused on her food.

  “It is.” Brock stabbed at a few vegetables and stuffed them in his mouth.

  “Whatever you say.” Eva scraped the last of her rice to the edge of her plate and tipped it up, shoveling it into her open mouth before standing up. “Thanks for dinner, Broccoli.” She reached out one hand. “You finished pretending to eat tofu?”

  Instead of handing her his plate he took hers and headed for the stairs. “I ate some.”

  Eva’s belly laugh slowed his steps. Made him drag out his departure.