by Lynne Silver
All her earlier spoiled brat behaviors were wiped away by the stunning vulnerability etched deeply on her. Arianna hid it well, but deep inside she was screaming for comfort, for love. It had been a compelling need to go cheer her up and wipe the frown off her face.
Lance wrapped his arms around her and scooped her closer to his body, all while nibbling on her lips. When she moaned and softened into him, he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue against her. He half expected Ari to bite him, because she was like a puppy sometimes—all playful, not knowing her own strength. She acted unaware of her power over him, how with one shake of her hips or toss of her hair he was panting and aching to touch her.
He deepened the kiss, praying she was as affected as he was. For his part, he wanted to turn, toss her on the desk, and spend the rest of the day exploring her soft, delicious skin and sexy curves. A little moan escaped Ari, pleasing him to no end. Here was a girl who left a drooling puddle of stunned men in her path, and if he wasn’t careful, he’d be one of them. Lance had no intention of getting left in her stiletto-trodden path. When the time came, they’d separate like grown-ups, but for now he intended to enjoy every second with her. Even after the hired security guards showed up on Monday, he planned on checking in on Arianna. Maybe even taking her on another lunch date. Sans Nana, of course.
All thoughts of professionalism as a bodyguard fled when her hands slid under the hem of his shirt and lightly traced his abdominals up to his pecs. His stomach muscles and groin tightened in response. Hell, he’d prided himself on his control with women, but one positive response from Ari and he forgot everything else, forgot all the reasons why he and Ari were the last two people who should be sucking face. His job, her father, Ari’s angry vandal, were all lost in the joy of finally touching her.
He scooped his hands under her curvy rear and pulled her to his aching hardness. She responded by subtly rubbing against him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The feel of her body was branded onto him. The heat between them sizzled, and he wanted to explore every curve that pressed up against him. The taste of her was more delicious than their homemade lunch, and he’d forever remember the scent of her shampoo, or maybe it was the perfume he’d seen her dab on behind her ears. Either way, the combo of the two was a recipe for arousal. They remained locked together kissing for long moments until she froze in his arms.
“Lance.”
“Hmm.” He leaned in to bite her earlobe.
“Lance.” Her voice was more forceful and Lance’s body became aware she was no longer playing catlike games rubbing against him.
He stepped back and attempted to look totally unaffected by passion. Not an easy feat when his cock was as hard as the wood desk behind him.
Ari stepped back and collapsed in her chair, putting her at eye level with his groin. He hastily moved to the chairs on the other side of the desk.
“Why…why did you kiss me?”
Play it cool here, Brown. “You looked sad.”
“You kissed me, because I looked sad?” Her eyes narrowed.
Wrong answer. “Um—”
“Do you go around kissing all the sad women in the world?”
“No? No.” Shit, he was digging in deep here. How could he salvage this mini disaster and get her back to be willing to kiss him? Because kissing Arianna Rose was one of the hottest things he’d ever done. He was not living without more kisses from her.
“I’m not going to apologize for kissing you.”
“I’m not asking you to. I wanted to know why you kissed me.” She stared across the desk at him curiously.
He examined the back of her computer monitor as he debated what to tell her. “I don’t know. You’re not my usual type of woman.”
“Oh?”
Crap. Think, Lance, think.
“Out of curiosity, what is your usual type of woman?”
“Uh…I don’t know.” Thin, waifish, bland women came to mind in comparison to Ari’s fiery three-dimensional vivaciousness. “Thinner.” Shit. As soon as the word left his lips, he knew he’d blundered badly.
Fire danced in her eyes. “You think I’m fat?”
“Hell, no. I think you’re perfect. Gorgeous. The other women are like cardboard compared to you.”
“Cardboard,” she repeated. Her arms folded ominously across her ample breasts.
“Yeah, flat and kind of the same. You know.”
“Actually, I don’t.”
He struggled to put his explanation into words without insulting her further. When had he become such a clod? Around the office, he was known as the ladies’ man. He sure wasn’t showing it now. “The past few women I’ve dated all kinda looked the same. Black power suits, brown hair, and bodies so thin you’d think they never went to a Five Guys.”
Ari nodded. “I think I get it, and I think you need to stop dating women from K Street law offices and add some color into your life.”
He nodded in relief. “Definitely, and I know what color to add. Red.”
She smiled faintly and unfolded her arms back down to her sides. “Well, this redhead has to get back to work if I’m going have my show ready.”
“Tell me about it. Was that the invitation I was looking at before?”
She nodded. “You want to hear about my art show?”
“Yeah.” He loved hearing her talk in that throaty voice of hers.
“Okay then, I’ll tell you about my art show.” A warmth entered her voice. “I had the idea for the Rose Gallery a few years ago. I’d spent some time in Europe after graduation and I fell in love with all the local artists showing in their local galleries. I wanted to replicate that here.”
“Here? Why not New York? Isn’t most of the art world in New York?” He didn’t know much about the art world, but he did know his mom went into the city on a yearly basis with her designer to pick out some work by a hot, new, must-have artist.
“New York is great, but there’s a glut of galleries showing local work. I wanted to bring D.C. into the cutting-edge art scene, and it’s working. There are some amazing local artists who are happy to have a place to show. My upcoming show will be sort of our second grand opening.”
“Second?”
“Yes, well, we opened officially two months ago, but in the beginning it was a little tricky to convince some of the artists to show here. They wanted New York or nothing.”
“And you changed their minds?”
“Yes.” Pride shone on her face. “That’s why this show is important. I have a who’s who in the art world coming to the event. A lot of careers and reputations could be made based on the reviews and sales that night.”
Hmm, his mom was sort of known for being a big art buyer. Maybe he could ask his sister to drag Mom down for the show if it would help Arianna. An appearance by Mrs. Susan Brown would make headlines in those society papers he ignored religiously. “Well, it seems like you’re doing a great job. The work I saw downstairs is compelling and eye-catching.”
“Thanks,” she said with a laugh, not taking his uneducated art opinion seriously. “So you can see why there is much to be done.”
“Hint taken. I’ll go back to standing out front like a good guard dog.” He turned to leave her office.
“Lance?”
“Yes?” He turned back to her.
“You’re no dog.” She smiled at him. “And I liked kissing you.”
He winked, then went to sit in view of the front door.
“What are you in the mood to eat tonight?” Ari asked as she crashed on her couch upstairs.
Lance looked up from her computer where he was checking his email. “I don’t know. What have you got to make?”
She laughed. “Um, do you see much in the way of a kitchen?”
He looked around. “How did I not notice that before? You have no kitchen here.”
“It’s downstairs,” she said.
“You mean the fridge and microwave down in the gallery?” he asked dubiously.
That was all she needed: a coffeepot, a fridge for holding takeout, and a microwave to reheat them.
He looked incredulous. “What about doing dishes?”
Hah, dishes, smishes. “Takeout, Lance. I use chopsticks or I have a few forks I can rinse in the sink, plus wineglasses. Wineglasses are crucial.”
“Tsk, tsk. This from Little Miss ‘I drive a Mini, earth-friendly car.’” He shook his head at her, and she was stricken until she saw the teasing laughter in his eyes. “Well, maybe tomorrow I’ll bring you to my place and cook you a real meal.” He made the offer with a warm smile.
“You can cook?” she wondered aloud. She wondered what his definition of cooking was. If it was anything similar to her previous boyfriends’, it meant boiling pasta to a soggy mess and dumping a jar of Ragu over it.
“Yeah. Nana taught me the summer I lived with her, and it’s a good thing I know how,” he said.
“Why is it a good thing?” Ari asked.
“So I don’t starve or kill myself eating pizza most nights.”
“That’s right. You have to stay in shape for your job.” She ran her eyes over him appreciatively. “Well, from my perspective, it’s working.”
He grinned and playfully flexed his biceps, unabashedly aware of his big muscular body. Did he know its full effect on her, and would it be terrible if she revealed how hot she thought him?
“I work out, too, most mornings or I go to yoga, if you want to join me.”
“I have to head to physical therapy, but heck no to the yoga stuff.” He clicked the browser over to a sports page as if to prove that real men don’t do yoga.
“You’re being silly. It would help your leg. It’s how I maintain my strength and flexibility.” Now she had his full attention. “Lots of professional athletes do it.”
“Show me some moves, and maybe I’ll consider it.”
She stood up, aware her short sundress was not ideal for yoga poses, but he’d asked. Who was she not to deliver? She did a fluid sun salutation then moved into downward facing dog, making sure her rear was pointed in his direction.
“Yeah, I can see how it helps your flexibility.” He sounded like he’d swallowed a lollipop whole, stick included.
Ari stood up, loving the burn and flex of the muscles. The only other place she achieved that excellent ache was in bed with a lover. She made up her mind at that moment she was going to sleep with Lance Brown before she sent him packing back to the Secret Service. He was leaving as soon as the hired professionals showed up tomorrow, which meant she had less than twenty-four hours to make her move.
His kiss today showed he was not immune to her charms even if he thought she was a tad spoiled at times. So what? She was. It wasn’t her fault her parents showered her with every luxury except their attention. Let seduction begin tonight. Mr. Do-Right Agent wouldn’t know what hit him.
Chapter Five
Lance stretched out his long legs as much as possible in her tuna can of a car and glanced in his side mirror. He’d let Arianna drive home from dinner, and he was doing his best not to wince at each car she cut off.
The gray Ford sedan a few cars back caught his attention. He’d seen one like it illegally parked out front of the restaurant. Could be coincidence, but he was trained to look for anomalies and patterns, and he was darn good at his job. The gray car was following them. He’d bet on it.
If he’d been doing his job instead of remembering Ari’s tight ass in her yoga pose, he would’ve noticed if the car had followed them from her art gallery or if it had picked them up at the restaurant.
“Get into the right lane,” he said. “Slowly.”
Arianna turned to him with a questioning expression on her face. “Do it,” he said.
She frowned but signaled and moved to the right. The gray car followed. “Stay in this lane. Keep to the speed limit.” He grinned at her disgruntled look.
“Are we being followed or something?”
“I think so. Don’t panic,” he said as her fingers tightened on the wheel and her speed slowed down.
“Should I drive to the police station?” Her voice was quiet but steady.
“Not yet. Let’s lead them on a bit of a chase, but not to your house.” He reached behind him to pull out his gun.
“Can’t you call your police buddies and have them trace the license plate? If I slow down more, you can read the tags.”
He considered her excellent idea for a minute. If he were guarding her in an official capacity he could. “I can’t. It would be illegal for me to trace tags for personal use.”
The car jerked forward as she stomped on the gas pedal. “Personal use? I bet I could find that information on Google in about one second.”
“Probably true,” he admitted. “But I still can’t use official government resources for this purpose.”
“Official government resources, hah. Do you mean those spy satellites that could show a geek in a dark office what color underwear I’m wearing right now?”
What color underwear was she wearing right now? Was it a thong? Or maybe those sexy boy-shorts. Lance allowed himself a pleasurable distracting moment to contemplate that, then refocused. “I don’t know what spy satellites you’re talking about, or should I say, ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’?”
“Get in line,” she said.
He patted her shoulder, then turned to give the car following another look. “Ari, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
She took her hand off the wheel to give his a squeeze. “Thanks, Lance. I’m lucky you had time off work to stay with me.”
He couldn’t think of a response to her comment. He still itched to get back to work, but if he hadn’t been injured he wouldn’t be here now with her.
“Ari?” He’d heard Valerie call her that diminutive, and he liked it. It suited her.
“Huh?” She turned back to the road.
“Turn onto the next residential street and find a safe place to park. Someplace I can get out of the car.”
She raised her eyebrows and shook her head but followed orders. Within a minute she slid into a spot on a tree-lined street, and the gray car pulled in behind them. Lance debated a moment, then decided to let them make the first move. He was ninety-nine percent certain the car following them was a government car, not a potential security threat.
He didn’t have long to wait. Two men, overdressed in suits on the warm evening, sauntered over to the car and tapped on Arianna’s window. She threw a bewildered and frightened glance at Lance, and he smiled to reassure her. “Open the window.” Then he reached deep into his pocket to pull out his Secret Service identification. One never knew if flashing badges could smooth things over.
“Ms. Rose.” One man greeted her, flipping open an FBI badge. “Is there a reason you pulled over?”
“Um.” She pointed to Lance. “He told me to. Why are you following me?”
The federal agent ignored Arianna’s question and leaned down to peer in the window at Lance. “Sir. Step out of the car, please. Keep your hands in sight.”
Lance sighed. He’d never been on this end of an investigation before. Slowly, he opened the door and stepped out of the car. Immediately, both suited men’s eyes widened when they recognized him.
“Gentlemen,” he said.
“You’re Agent Lance Brown, correct?”
“Yes.” He glanced into the window at Ari to give her a reassuring look.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Brown,” said one agent. “We’d been working on identifying the man staying with Ms. Rose. This makes our job easier.”
“How’s your leg doing?” asked the other. “What are you doing with Stanley Rose’s daughter?”
A sinking feeling entered Lance. His hero status for saving the president was in jeopardy if he got caught up in a scandal embroiling Arianna or the Rose family. Up until now, all the media had focused on Stanley Rose. Other than last night, he hadn’t seen much of Stanley Rose’s daughter in
the press.
“Why are you following us?”
“Ms. Rose is a person of interest in her father’s absence, but we are not at liberty to say more until we understand your relationship with her.”
“I’m a friend.”
“Just a friend?” One agent raised a brow. “You spent the night last night. You saying nothing happened between you and a pretty thing like her?”
Annoyance flared. “She isn’t a thing, and we’re friends.” He hoped they hadn’t seen inside Ari’s office this afternoon. It would be hard to explain away the smoking-hot kiss from earlier if they were truly only friends.
“Well, tell your friend we will be keeping her company for a bit to see if she gives us any hint as to her father’s whereabouts.”
“She doesn’t know,” he said, praying Arianna had told him the truth. He’d be up shit creek if he were caught lying to the FBI, unknowing or not. “I don’t think she and her dad are close.”
“How long have the two of you been friends?” the other agent asked.
“We met through mutual friends. Her best friend is married to my close buddy.” He hoped they didn’t see through the prevarication. No need for them to know they’d only met last night.
The taller agent pulled out a small notepad from his suit pocket. “Oh, yes. A Mrs. Valerie Moore, married to Jason Moore of McLean.”
He wondered if Jason knew he was now on an FBI list. In a case with the scope of Stanley Rose’s, they would leave no stone unturned. “Well, if you’re following her, then you know about the breakin. I’m staying close to her to protect her.”
The two agents glanced at each other, obviously confused. “Breakin?”
“Is it related to the case?” the other agent asked.
Lance nodded. “A brick was thrown through the front window of her art gallery and a painting was defaced with a personal threat to her.”
“That explains the boarded-up window. We thought she was protecting her privacy, but we didn’t restart the surveillance on her until today.”
“Well, I guess I can go back home, then. If you’re watching her, she won’t need my protection.” Lance ignored the increased pressure in his chest at the thought of leaving Ari when they had just met.
