Billy clunked his head against the head rest. “She doesn’t scare.”
“Then why would she hire a bodyguard?”
“Probably because Breezy told her to. She does everything that twat and her old man the lawyer tell her to.”
Max tucked that information away and stayed focused on the interrogation Billy had no idea he was participating in. “You’ve filed your lawsuit. Why are you trying to hurt her, too?”
“I’m not trying to hurt her.”
“She thinks you are.”
“Ah, man.” Billy lolled his head farther out the window. “I’m gonna puke.”
Max made the turn into the Grove Isle condominium and Billy suddenly sat up straight. “How the hell do you know where I live?”
“I know everything, Billy.” Picking up the Ruger, Max pointed it right at the bridge of Billy’s nose. “I’ll hang on to your car until you’re sober. You stay away from Corinne Peyton.”
Billy pushed himself out of the door and barely made it to the sidewalk before Max threw the Gallardo into gear and left Cori’s stepson in the dark.
For what must have been the twentieth time in the hour since Max left, Cori flipped open Max’s phone but couldn’t bring herself to press that button. She leaned against the stone balustrade that enclosed the second-floor terrace outside her bedroom and watched the caterers pack up the bar and fold tables, as she imagined what she’d say to Lucy Sharpe.
I’m afraid there’s been a…
A miscommunication? A mistake? A nightmare?
We’ll need to change your staffing selections.
Not only would she sound like a fool, she’d feel like a baby.
What difference did it make if Max Roper was her bodyguard? He was big, tough, smart, and mean. In four minutes he’d done what she hadn’t been able to do in four years—shut Billy up.
So what if the sight of him still sent heat lightning through her body? She was paying for a service, and he was—as he so humbly noted—the best there was. She could control a little sexual zing.
Couldn’t she?
She closed the phone, and breathed deeply. She’d just have to keep Max far enough away so he didn’t figure out what she was doing, but close enough to keep her safe if someone else did.
Was that possible? To keep Max away?
It never had been before.
A movement on the north lawn caught her attention; the caterers had finished that section and the lights had been dimmed. But something in the shadows brushed a tree branch, then stopped, sending a heat prickle over the back of her neck.
Max.
It was as if he emitted some cosmic body-zapping signal that shot awareness through her veins.
He emerged from the darkness of the trees and paused in the fountain’s light, taking in her house with a steady gaze. He’d abandoned his jacket, stripped down to a black fitted shirt and dark trousers. Even from this distance, he looked imposing.
She stepped back into the darkness of the overhang and his gaze locked on her. She wore white, so she’d be easy to find. But even if she’d changed into cat burglar’s clothes, that man could zero in on her.
He ate up the limestone with long, silent strides, approaching the spiral steps that led up to her terrace.
She reopened the cell phone and stared at the keypad.
He’d be up those stairs in less than ten seconds. She could have Lucy Sharpe on the phone by the time he rounded the top step.
She heard the scrape of his shoe on the stone stair. Five seconds.
Lucy’s phone could be ringing before she had to hear his voice again.
“Cori?”
Her finger froze on the keypad and she snapped the phone closed as he hit the top step, his movements remarkably graceful for someone of his size.
“I’m right here.”
He walked across the terrace, and suddenly her fifteen-thousand-square-foot mansion seemed like a dollhouse. It wasn’t just his height or solid, muscular build. His presence, his very essence minimized everything around him.
“Looks like Billy brought your party to a screeching halt after all,” he said.
“That’s all right. It was a success.” In heels, she grazed five feet nine, but she still had to lift her chin to meet his gaze. “What did you do with him?”
“Of all my options, letting him plunge his Hot Wheels into the bay was my favorite.”
He was bluffing again. “Did you take him home to Coconut Grove?” At his slight nod, she murmured, “Thank you.”
“Just doing my job.” His gaze dropped to the phone in her hand. “That is, unless Lucy’s already dispatched my replacement.”
“I didn’t call.” Even in the darkness she saw a glint in his eyes. “Yet.”
“It’s entirely up to you,” he said, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets and pulling her attention to the ominous gun he wore at his hip. It looked completely at home on that body built for danger and violence. And sex. Lord, he was certainly built for that.
“I just want to be safe, Max.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
“Yeah, right.”
He shrugged as if he couldn’t care less if she believed him. “If you want to be safe, then the first thing you need to do is fire that valet service.”
“I’ve used them for years.”
He moved closer, his scent drifting toward her. “And you can add more cameras along the front walkway.” He crossed his arms over his mighty chest and glanced toward the grounds. “The trees are effectively blocking the house, but they also make great coverage for an intruder.”
“The entire property is gated.”
He started to circle, slowly, around her left. “Your security system hasn’t been updated since your husband died. Tomorrow morning, we’ll install a—”
“Stop it.” She held her hands up.
“If you want to be safe, you need to make some changes.” In one more step, he trapped her with that unrelenting gaze and that enormous body.
“I mean stop cornering me.” She sidestepped him, with a little more force than she needed. “Do whatever you need to do to make the property safer.”
“Then I’ll be staying.” It was a statement.
If she made him leave, he’d know he still had power over her. He’d have the satisfaction of knowing he still made her weak with desire—even after she’d sworn she hated him, and he’d agreed she should.
“You can stay.” She held the cell phone out to him, and managed to stay cool when their fingertips burned. “For the next several weeks, I’ll be focused on a single project and I don’t want Billy anywhere near me.”
“What project?” he asked.
“The Peyton Foundation. We’re launching new programs and it’s time consuming.”
She’d set up the Foundation so well, the programs could launch themselves, but it made the perfect cover for what she really needed to do. Besides, no one on the board would let her near any Peyton project that impacted the bottom line. “You don’t need to know details.”
“I need to know everything.” He regarded her just one second too long, one drawn-out beat that sent tingly warmth through her. “Including where you’ll be, what you’re doing, and who you’re doing it with.”
“I work from home, I work on Peyton business, and I work by myself or through a network of people at various Peyton locations. Sometimes I go into the corporate office in Miami. That’s when I’ll need you, or if I attend a social function. But please be unobtrusive.”
He almost laughed. “That’s a little contrary to the idea of a bodyguard.”
Leveling her gaze, she said, “I just mean I’d really prefer you keep your distance.”
Then he did laugh, that soft chuckle that came from his chest. He held the phone toward her, a challenge lighting gold flecks in his eyes. “Just press one, kid, and end your misery.”
“You’re not the cause of my misery, Max,” she told him. Not anymore, anyway.
He slid the p
hone back into his pocket, his attention still locked on her with that quizzical scrutiny that used to make her nerve endings sizzle. Yeah, this would be a whole different kind of misery.
“You’ve changed a lot,” he commented.
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s been five years. I’m older and different.”
“You’re reserved and tense.”
“I have a lot of responsibility now.”
“Was it the money?”
The money? “The money’s meaningless without my husband.”
She saw the reaction in his eyes, but he turned away into the darkness so quickly she couldn’t analyze it. “I’m going to examine the security liabilities on the property.”
“Now?” The thought of him creeping through the shadows of her property in the middle of the night sent a little shudder through her.
“It’s best at night. That’s why I arrived at this hour. I can see the place exactly as an intruder would and find the problems that we need to correct tomorrow.”
“I doubt you’ll find much. William was a cautious man.” Not cautious enough, but she wasn’t willing to show her hand to Max.
“I don’t think it’s all that safe,” he replied. “I got in here twice in one night without telling anyone my name. The first time I climbed a fence and didn’t so much as snag a thread. The second time I dangled the keys to an Italian sports car in front of a teenage valet and he never saw me walk through the open gate.”
Resentment straightened her spine. “Tonight might have been an exception because there were a lot of people coming and going—”
“Precisely when you should be most vigilant.”
He was right. “Whatever. Do what you need to do.” She indicated the guest house with one hand. “My housekeeper, Marta, has prepared the guest house for you. It’s unlocked so—”
“So someone could be waiting in it right now, in ambush.”
She blew out a breath, feathering her bangs. “Then you shoot him, Max. That’s what I’m paying you to do. If no one is hiding in there, then make yourself comfortable. I’m going to bed.”
She turned toward her bedroom doors, but froze when his hand landed on her bare shoulder.
“I need you.”
Heat pooled low in her stomach, but she didn’t turn, and didn’t trust herself to speak.
He inched her toward the bedroom. “Go change into something you can walk around in without tripping, and I’ll give you a lesson in threat assessment.”
She stood stone still. “I know enough about threat assessment.” She looked down at her shoulder, where his hand touched her flesh, then into his eyes. “My father was a DEA agent—or did you forget?”
His expression softened, barely perceptible except to someone who knew him intimately. “I’ll be waiting on the patio,” he simply said. “Unless you’re afraid.”
She closed her eyes and silently cursed him. “Give me five minutes.”
Chapter
Three
“Y ou need more dead ground.” Max slowed to let Cori catch up, drinking in the way her dark jersey clothes clung to the enticing curves of her long, lean body. Yoga clothes, he’d bet. He’d protected plenty of women who wore the stretchy knit to find their bliss.
Just looking at her was enough bliss for him.
He’d sworn he wouldn’t touch, but he could still feel the gloss of her skin where he’d held her shoulder.
And not even the tropical forest that surrounded her home could erase the soft, feminine scent of her. Taking a deep breath of it, he pointed toward a cluster of trees. “To get dead ground, you’ll have to uproot at least a dozen of those things.”
“Are you out of your mind? Those live oaks have survived hurricanes and the most zealous developers. They’ve been around since Al Capone lived on this island.”
He snorted. “Al Capone, of all people, would appreciate the importance of dead ground. As would any of the others on your block.”
The fact that Cori lived in an ultraexclusive enclave made his job easier for the most part, but the high-profile residents also attracted their share of idiots who cruised the water hoping for a glimpse of a rock star or TV personality.
“Believe me, they all have top-level security,” she assured him.
“I know how they live.” Behind walls and mired in security cameras. “As far as lighting, yours is all wrong. It looks real pretty, but there are too many shadows on the house. You want to silhouette anyone nearing the structure at night. But you’ve picked a good color with that pale yellow on the house.”
“William and I chose it for aesthetics, not security,” she admitted.
William and I. An unwanted image of her sitting cozy with her husband, mulling over paint chips and sofa fabrics, flashed in his head. He punched the mental picture away and pointed to the hibiscus bushes lining the property, in front of the six-foot wall. “All along there, you need infrared cameras. They’re very unobtrusive and state of the art. It’s not up for debate.”
She placed her hands on narrow hips and glanced around as though she were looking at her lawns for the first time. “I guess you’re right.” Without the trappings of jewels and an evening gown, she looked much more like the fresh, appealing law school student she’d been when they first met.
“Of course I am,” he said, hoping a gruff tone covered the little punch in his belly. “If you want to be safe, you make some compromises to your lifestyle.”
She looked sharply at him. “We—William did that. But digging up trees and adding cameras seems like a wasted effort….” Her voice trailed off. “Because Billy can always get in.”
“We’ll change that. The island guards should never give him access to your home.”
“He’ll find a way around that, but, yes, I’ll revise the admission list. At least they’ll have to call the house before letting him in.”
She started toward a long, wide cement dock, secured by a wrought-iron gate topped with spiked tips and chain locked. A one-room, glass-enclosed cabana sat on one corner. A top-of-the-line cabin cruiser, forty or fifty feet long, bobbed in the water on the other side of the dock. In the moonlight, he could read Peyton’s Place across the wide-beamed stern.
“Nothing like advertising who’s on board,” he said, indicating the name with a jut of his chin. “You may want to change the name of your boat.”
He’d never understood the ego of men who had to advertise themselves with vanity plates and yachts named after themselves. Didn’t they see the security risks?
“Not necessary; it’ll be gone in the next few weeks. I just sold it,” she responded.
Max gave the gate a hard shake. “This isn’t much more than a decorative fence. You have cameras pointed here?”
“No. But this is kept secure at all times.” She dialed a code into a keypad. “I come down here once in a while, and my housekeeper cleans the cabana. The only other people who have access to the dock is the boat maintenance service who come by periodically.”
He glanced at the boat, which not only screamed the owner’s name, but could be fairly easily accessed from the water.
“I hope you never come down here at night, alone,” he said. “That boat is a hiding place for anyone who might want to attack, and there’s no cover on any of the cabana windows. With a light on in there, you’re a target to a wide open bay.”
She pushed the gate open. “Star Island Security motors by here regulary, but I promise to be careful. The island isn’t very big, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. There’s only one entrance, and the guard gate is vigilant.”
Rubbing his jaw, he scrutinized the area—another upscale island and the sparkling lights of Miami to the west, and the golden glow of Miami Beach’s nightlife to the east. He stepped around to the edge of the dock and looked into the water below. “No underwater lighting?”
“I understand you are doing your job and I appreciate it,” she said. “I’ll get rid of the boat, fix the gate, and order window treatments for
the cabana. But Billy isn’t going to scuba dive in for a Navy SEAL attack. He’s not that smart.”
“But he might be that desperate.” Max walked to the end of the dock, then turned to look at the back of her imposing house. There must have been twenty rooms lining the two levels that wrapped in a U shape around the pool. A dozen archways, and at least forty decorative columns.
He couldn’t imagine anything about the fiery, feisty law student he’d met in Chicago that indicated she wanted this life. She wanted to help the helpless, beat the man, argue the system. After a lifetime with a mother who’d bounded from husband to husband, and movie set to movie set, she’d wanted the opposite of glitz and glamour.
Hell, she’d been planning a life as the wife of a DEA agent.
But then, people changed. And no one knew what went on behind closed doors—unless those doors were glass. He tugged at the slider to check the lock and looked at her. “So what exactly does your stepson want from you?” he asked.
She leaned against the stucco frame of the cabana. “His lawsuit is asking for a hundred million dollars.”
His surprised exhale left a circle of white on the glass. “Jesus. A small percentage of that would buy him someone who is more than able to dive in for a Navy SEAL attack.” He looked back at the deep, dark water. “That’s quite a price to have on your head.”
“He doesn’t get it if I die.”
“Then why would he try to hurt you?”
She walked to the other side of the dock, a soft breeze lifting her hair as she moved. “I stopped trying to figure Billy Peyton out a long time ago. And so did his father.”
Max stepped close enough to grab her in an instant if he had to. “You know, Billy has a theory,” he said quietly. “He thinks you killed his father.”
She looked at him, a quick flash in her eyes. “Billy’s an insecure drug addict who’s been handed everything he ever wanted in life. He resented my relationship with his father and his happiest moment is to see me publicly humiliated and miserable.”
“Did you ever consider the possibility that your husband’s death wasn’t entirely natural?”
Even in the moonlight, he could see the blood drain from her face. “I consider everything,” she assured him. “Which is why you are here.”
Thrill Me to Death Page 3
