By five o’clock she was dressed in a deep burgundy red A-line dress that hugged the curves she had perfectly. The dress came down to the top of her toes and had two splits, one on each side, but nothing that was so noticeable that it looked tacky. It was an elegant dress, but most importantly, it allowed her free range of motion if she needed to kick some butt. She also had two slender knives strapped to each upper thigh, a belt that hung from her waist that looked like nothing more than a string of pearls, but instead was a lethal wire that could cut a man’s head off if need be. She had her hair in a bun with two decorated hairpins in her hair that were actually sophisticated weapons she could toss in her enemy’s heart. Her four-inch heels had a stealth-like blade in the heel of the shoe, and right inside her handbag was yet another weapon she could use if she needed to. She was prepared for battle, even in formal attire.
“You look amazing,” he gaped at her. “Stunning. That dress is…wow!”
“Thank you,” she approached him slowly. “Are you ready?”
“Oh yeah,” he looked her up and down. “I’m more than ready.”
She could tell from the tonation of his husky voice that they were no longer talking about the same thing here. “To leave for dinner,” she stipulated.
“Oh, right,” he didn’t move. He just stood there, looking at her as if he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right there on the coffee table.
“What if somebody did try to kill me tonight?” He grinned as if he was finally able to make a point. “In that dress I don’t think you’ll be able to do much.”
“Sure I will.” He obviously didn’t believe her because he tried a sneak attack that she avoided before grabbing his right arm, twisting it behind his back and effortlessly using her foot to sweep kick his feet from beneath him. He fell forward and she steadied his fall by balancing his bodyweight before she straddled him, her legs spread wide over his muscular back. Even in an Armani suit he looked good. She leaned forward, her lips so close to his ear that her breath softly fanned across the ebony skin. She wanted to reach out and slide her tongue up the curve of his ear, but she couldn’t go there. This was business. He was a client. She couldn’t like this guy.
“Do you give up now or shall we continue to waste time with your games?”
He laughed huskily. “You are so turning me on right now.” She didn’t doubt his words given the fact that his voice was so deadly deep that he could kill a woman’s reserve with just one word.
She gracefully pulled herself up, and he followed, effortlessly doing a push up to get himself off the floor. He straightened his suit jacket. “This is an Armani,” he admonished. “It doesn’t belong on the floor.”
“If you hadn’t tried to attack me it wouldn’t have been on the floor.”
He laughed. “You smell good. It’s like a natural scent,” he stated as he looked her over once more. “You don’t wear a lot of perfume do you?”
“I don’t wear any,” she confirmed. “I don’t feel a need to let my enemy smell me coming from a mile away.”
He laughed. “Be forewarned,” he stated. “Latricia doesn’t share your opinion. She always smells as if she’s dumped the entire bottle on her body.”
“Great,” Valencia muttered.
“The last time I met with her I asked for an outdoor table at the place where we were having lunch. That was a mistake. I was downwind from her and of course it just had to be a fairly breezy day. We’ll have an indoor table tonight. I don’t think my head can take a repeat…” he shook his head. “I should make sure I get some aspirin just in case.”
Valencia tapped the decorative handle on her handbag. “I have four in here.”
“You carry aspirin in your purse?”
“No,” she smiled before hitting a clasp. Part of the rounded top of the handle popped open, revealing a hidden compartment with the small pills inside.
“That is some purse,” he whistled. “What else you got in there?”
“That’s for me to know, and for you to, with hopes, not have to find out.” She closed the compartment on her purse. “Now, let’s go before you’re late for your meeting.”
“Right,” he acknowledged the need to leave, yet he still hadn’t made an effort to move. “I’ve never seen a dress like that. Who’s the designer? Dakarti?”
“Me,” she said.
“You find time to sew?”
“My mother made me learn when I was young,” she said. In between training to be a lethal killer, an expert with the martial arts, and a moderately accomplished cook, her mother told her that knowing how to make her own attire could be the difference between life and death. She hadn’t understood her mother’s words at the time, but she never questioned her parents. So she learned how to sew, how to design. And as she got older she understood what her mother had been trying to prepare her for. Having the ability to make her own clothes meant she had the ability to make hidden compartments for weapons that she could take anywhere undetected while still having clothing that fit every occasion and her body. “I work on new clothes in between clients.” This basically meant she spent two or three weeks focusing on training and sewing. She didn’t need much by way of clothing, but finding new ways to hide the new weapons she acquired was a good excuse for spending several hours making a new outfit. She was an assassin turned bodyguard, but that didn’t mean she didn’t like to dress with class and style—her style.
“Are we leaving now?”
“Oh, right…yeah, sure,” he picked his keys up off the coffee table. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Three
“Hello, Latricia.” Harrison smiled at the dressed in black woman. She was tall and elegant, but somehow she didn’t compare to the petite woman next to him. Latricia was always at the top of her societal game when it came to looks. She had the perfect shade of blond hair—straight from the salon, but no less perfect. Her nails were always groomed perfectly in a French manicure with crisp even tips. Her makeup was never overdone, but never underdone either. She stood tall, and there was no mistake that the woman was sure she was the cream of the crop when it came to women. She could probably have any man she wanted. And recently, through video conferencing with her, Harrison had the feeling he was the man she wanted. Until he met Valencia he might have been inclined to see where the woman might take him—probably to the bedroom, but until Valencia it didn’t matter that this woman would be just a bed buddy. He wasn’t a one night stand kind of guy, but a few months of rolling around in bed with a good woman wasn’t beneath him either. And it had been a long time…too long. He didn’t date while he was working a show—a fact that hit him now. He didn’t date while a show was going yet he had already established a cover for Valencia as his girlfriend. Would it work? He wasn’t sure, but he did know it was too late to turn back now.
“Pretty,” Latricia noted before sitting down. “But this is business.”
“I couldn’t leave her in the hotel alone,” he said. That was entirely true. There is no way Valencia would have allowed him to go anywhere without her.
“So who is she?”
“My woman,” he said fluidly. She wasn’t entirely his yet, but he wanted her to be, even if only for a few weeks…for now he would have to settle on make believe.
“You don’t date while you’re doing a show. Your focus is on the opera. That’s what you told me just a few weeks ago,” she stated accusingly, as if he had intentionally lied to her.
“I don’t,” he agreed. “But I met this woman and she just knocked me off balance. The moment she walked into the room I knew I wanted her.” And that was the God’s honest truth. He knew he wanted her in bed if nothing else.
“When did the two of you meet?” She looked over at Valencia and then back to him.
“Two weeks ago,” now that was a lie. “She’s thinking of investing in my next opera. She came to talk to me about it and the rest, as they say, is history...well, history in the making. If I have my way she’ll stick around
for more than the investment in the opera. But until that time I’m personally introducing her to what my opera world is like. I think it’s important for her, as an investor, to know what she’s getting into.”
“I see,” she had a curt tone to her voice, nothing near the friendly tone she usually had when they spoke. That hostility wasn’t directed at him. Latricia was directing that hostility at the woman sitting next to him. “So, Val, what is it that you do exactly?”
Harrison saw, for the first time, the look of steel come over Valencia, as if she was ready to lunge across the table and teach Latricia a lesson on why she should never call her Val. He placed his hand on her knee in an effort to remind her of who she was pretending to be. She couldn’t very well blow her cover on this woman.
“It’s Valencia,” Harrison told her. “Don’t call her Val.”
“I apologize,” she said, but he doubted that she really did. “So, Valencia,” she stressed the name. “What is it that you do?”
“I invest,” she stated. “What is it that you do?”
“Whatever it takes,” she smiled at Harrison, “to make sure my men leave satisfied.”
“Oh, prostitute…I wouldn’t have pegged you for that,” Valencia’s sharp tongue had uttered those words so easily and honestly that Harrison almost choked on the wine he was sipping. He coughed and cleared his throat.
“Actually, Valencia,” he tried to keep the tone civil. Latricia might pull out the claws, but Valencia would win the war. “Latricia is kind of a go-to-woman when you need to smooth the way with the business commission and any other government agencies that deal with permits. She does an amazing job.”
“I see,” she smiled at him. He knew she already knew this. Something in her devious behavior made him like her even more. He wondered if she was jealous of the attention Latricia had been showing him. He would never know because Valencia didn’t betray her emotions too often. In fact, if Latricia hadn’t called her Val he was sure she wouldn’t have shown even a smidge of anger this time. He didn’t know why she hated the name so much, but she did. He would have to make sure he made it clear in introductions that she was not to be called anything other than her name. He couldn’t take the chance that she might just follow through on what she had told him before when he asked if anybody called her Val and she said, “not if they want to live.” He didn’t believe she was serious then, but he believed it now.
On some level he hoped she was jealous. If she was that meant his job of seduction would be at least a little easier. She might want to keep things business only, but he had news for her. He wanted to get her on her back with his big body between her legs and he was going to pull out all the finesse and charm he had to get her there. He was going to seduce this bodyguard if it was the last thing he did on this earth.
He had the perfect idea to take advantage of the situation. He leaned closer to her, wrapped his arm around the back of her chair and reached just past her to the brochette appetizer. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist. So he took the small, crunchy piece of bread and held it up toward her mouth. “You have to try this,” he said. “It’s delicious.” She turned her head to look at him and he could tell by the look in her eyes that she wanted to hit him. She knew he was taking advantage of the situation. There was no room for denial, not that he would even try if she asked later. She smiled and resisted the urge to cut him in half with words.
He watched as her dainty lips closed over the brochette while she took a bite. He thought of all the things she could do with a mouth like that. Voluptuous, seductive lips that weren’t too big or too small seemed to form shapes and smiles so naturally it was beyond intoxicating.
“Hmm,” she moaned as she chewed the bread and then swallowed. “That is good.” The sounds she made had him at full attention. If she could make those sounds with food what sweet music would she make when she reached the pinnacle of her orgasm? He couldn’t wait to find out. But if the look in her eyes was any indication, he knew he would have to wait to find out. In fact, she might just torture him until her time as his bodyguard was up.
“Okay you two,” Latricia admonished. “I’m still sitting here.”
“So you are,” Harrison sat back in his chair, giving Valencia space. He knew they had to make it look real and he was sure he was doing a good job at making it appear as if they really did have a relationship. Most of his need to display his claim came because of the apt attention one young man was paying to Valencia. She either didn’t notice, or she didn’t care. He would venture the guess that she noticed. He couldn’t imagine that there was much, if anything, that Valencia didn’t notice. Which meant she didn’t care that the rather tall, rather skinny, blond guy was practically undressing her with his eyes. She might not care, but he did. His decision to feed her was just as much about putting on a show as it was his way of staking his claim and telling the guy two tables over that he needed to keep his eyes off his woman.
Good Lord he was in trouble. He just met the woman and already he was feeling a possessive need to have her, to keep other men away from her. He didn’t have a right to have those feelings. All he wanted, at least that’s what he told himself anyway, was a few nights with her in his bed. After those few nights he would have no trouble letting her move on to another man…but something in those words didn’t ring true. Something about this woman intrigued him, enticed him, stimulated him in ways no other woman ever had. Oh yeah, he was in trouble now.
He tried to remind himself to keep it sexual. He told himself not to care too much about who she was or where she had come from. Don’t ask the questions, he told himself. But the more he told himself that, the more he wanted to ask. He wanted to know everything about her. He ran his hand through his hair.
“Are you all right?” She mumbled. She could already read his body language, something she probably could do with anybody from the minute she met them, but for some reason the significance of how well she could read him had a great impact on his desire levels. What he wouldn’t give to sweep the plates of food off the table, push that sexy red dress up her thighs and take her right there on the table.
“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, trying to get the innate husky tone of his arousal out of his voice.
“Perhaps we should put your mind back on business,” Latricia snapped. “That is why we’re here; is it not?”
“Absolutely,” he confirmed.
“I went through a lot of trouble to get those permits for your trucks.”
“And I appreciate it, Latricia. I know that without you things could have gone badly…or at the very least, taken forever for the permits to come through. I couldn’t have pulled this off without you.”
She smiled warmly. “I knew you appreciated me.”
“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”
“I thought,” he felt her foot edge up his leg. His eyes widened. “That maybe you forgot how hard I worked.” And her foot kept on traveling so far north that he knew what was coming next.
He coughed hard before trying to push his chair back.
“Do you mind keeping your feet on the floor,” Valencia stated. God, she had known what Latricia was doing. How did she know? It’s not as if the table was made of glass. It was solid wood with a white linen table cloth that went straight down to the floor. Latricia just smiled, removed her foot from his crotch and began talking business.
He was probably going to have a problem with these two women. He was going to need to run interference because part of the deal for Latricia helping him was that she would get an inside look at his opera, that she would get house tickets in the VIP box that he would view the opening night from, and that she would be included in whatever rehearsals she chose to attend. He didn’t doubt that Valencia could be professional. She was being professional now. What he did doubt was that Latricia would be above board honest and professional. The stunt she had just pulled told him she gave little care to the fact that he was sitting right next to a woman that sh
e only knew as his girlfriend. He doubted whatever events they attended within fifty feet of each other would be tension free for him.
He was already on edge while Valencia sat there nonchalant about the whole thing. She seemed to be studying their surroundings while paying attention to what was going on at their table. She was good at her job; he would have to give her that acclamation.
He looked at Latricia, who was without any doubt beautiful, but for some reason her forward actions didn’t make him want to take her back to his room. He had a beautiful, intelligent woman sitting right across the table from him—a woman who clearly wanted something more than business with him—and the only thing he could think about was getting to know Valencia, kissing Valencia, bedding Valencia.
He sat through two hours of dinner with business sprinkled in, realizing that Latricia didn’t need to see him tonight to finalize anything. She could have dropped the papers off in the morning at the opera house. She had already told him she wanted to come by and see how they were getting along with setting up. He didn’t need the intrusion, but she had provided a great deal of help, so he hadn’t rejected her request to stop by when they were all just pulling into town. The trucks would literally be getting in come morning. This dinner had very little to do with Latricia’s need to discuss business and everything to do with her desire to see him romantically. Perhaps, if Valencia hadn’t been with him, Latricia would have tried to get him to go home with her. Would he have gone with her? Probably not. He had a firm rule about not dating while touring with the company, and no woman had made him want to break that rule—not until Valencia.
Seducing the Bodyguard Page 4
