by KaLyn Cooper
At Jonathan’s raised eyebrows, she added, “It’s about the size of a pager.”
Realization dawned. “Can he get another one? Will he be okay until then?”
Wow. His genuine concern for Kane flabbergasted Gwen…and made her like him even more. He was not only sexy as hell, he was nice.
“How did you meet him?” Jonathan sipped and set the mug down, focusing all his attention on her.
Meticulously, Gwen picked up the next container and began to fill it. She had nothing to hide from this man, except the name of the covert special operations base where she’d met Kane. “I was an Army nurse, three tours in theater. His team was really sick when they were brought in. All of them had high fevers, dehydration, delirium, vom—” She glanced at the plate Jacki had just set in front of him and corrected her word choice. “Sick to their stomachs. The doctors determined that they had contracted a virus while in the northern regions.”
She dropped her hands to the countertop. “There are diseases out there that we have no idea how to treat, say nothing about curing.”
Jonathan nodded in agreement, too much a gentleman to speak with his mouthful.
So she continued. “When we’d prepared them to be shipped to Germany, per protocol, the World Health Organization stepped in and advised they be treated in country fearing it might spread into an epidemic.”
“None of the hospitals I saw over there were prepared to handle anything like quarantine,” Jonathan said, and bit into toast slathered with their homemade jam.
“We weren’t either. But we did it.” Gwen tightened the lid and moved on to the next sugar jar. She sighed. The next part was sad, especially for Kane. “The virus hit them all hard, but it attacked Kane’s pancreas. We eventually shipped him to Germany, but he ended up at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center for over a month while they figured out the problem. They medically discharged him.” And he came home to Dallas where his life went further down the drain, but that wasn’t her story to tell.
“That sucks.” Jonathan shook his head and slid his empty plate away. He spun on the stool to face her. “Look, I owe you an apology.” He took the large sugar container out of her hand and set it down before taking both her hands in his and turning her to face him. Their knees bumped before he spread his apart, capturing hers in between. The position was so intimate, heat raised from her chest up her neck. “Let me take you out to supper. I’m sure you’d like to try some other restaurants.”
“I…I…” She couldn’t put together the sentence she wanted to say. This was exactly what she wanted, but when he gently squeezed her hands, she lost all conscious thought.
“I’m new here,” he started to explain, “and you’re the first woman with a brain I’ve met other than clients, and Guardian has a policy against dating them.”
He thought she was smart? Well, yes she was. Her brain had just disengaged for a minute, or three.
“Gwen, it’s just a meal.” His smile wasn’t helping her word formation one bit.
She forced her glance away long enough to say, “Yes.” She’d regained enough composure to complete the sentence, so she looked into the depths of his brown eyes and said, “I’d like to go out with you.”
“I’m off tomorrow night. I’ll pick you up at seven.” Jonathan stood.
“Next door down.” She pointed. “I live upstairs.”
Chapter 7
Jonathan was set on seduction as he exited Guardian’s Hummer limousine. Gwen was such a mystery to him and he was determined to find out more about the woman who heated his blood. She’d been in the Army, yet had what he considered outlined plans for a terrorist attack. He’d been so concerned he’d had a long discussion with his boss over the situation.
Quin couldn’t believe Gwen was involved in homegrown terrorism either, but Jonathan had seen the proof right there on her computer. Together, they’d called company owner and managing partner, Alex Wolf. Jonathan knew the man was connected at the highest levels of government and could make things happen if necessary.
As Jonathan reached for the door, it opened.
“Let me go change.” Gwen ran both hands down her dress slacks, forcing his gaze to her flat stomach and curvy hips. “I had no idea we were going to someplace fancy.” Her eyes flew to the waiting limo.
He smiled. In Miami, their fleet of limousines and personal protection crew were busy most nights. Riding in stretch was a common occurrence for him.
“No place elegant, just the Brazilian Steakhouse.” He glanced over his shoulder at the waiting vehicle. “The Hummer was available, and I thought you’d get a kick out of being driven around.” It was partially true. Limos were one of the perks of being an assistant manager and it sure beat Uber since his car was still in Florida.
Her eyes darting between the large vehicle idling at the curb and her clothes, she nervously asked, “You think I’m dressed okay?”
He lifted her chin till her eyes met his. “You look beautiful.” And he wasn’t lying. The red blouse was cut low enough to show just a hint of rounded breasts that he hoped to kiss later, before he took her peaked nipples into his mouth and sucked hard.
Down boy, he warned his growing erection.
Concentrating on her bourbon-colored eyes, that seemed larger in the dimming light, she looked younger than her thirty-one years. He almost felt guilty about the in-depth research Alex insisted they run on her. He knew more facts about the woman in front of him than any first date should. Her stellar military record was at complete odds with the idea that she might be planning an attack on the people of the United States. He had to play this right so she’d invite him into her apartment, and hopefully her bed, before the night ended.
“I want so much to kiss you right now, show you how gorgeous you are, but I’m afraid we’d never make it to dinner, and we have reservations.” He forced himself to step back, sliding his hand from her face, over her shoulder to capture her hand. “Let’s go.” Because if he didn’t get into that vehicle right then, he would take her mouth with his and show her how much he wanted her. It was too soon.
After helping her into the Hummer, he settled himself right beside her, even though it could fit ten comfortably. Jonathan wanted her close.
“You never did tell me where you went to college.” It was a good place to start his interrogation. He’d use his research to catch any lies.
“I got my BSN,” she clarified, “Bachelors of Science in Nursing, from University of Saint Mary in Kansas City.”
Jonathan already knew that. She’d left out that she was in the top five in her class. “Is that where you grew up?”
“Close. Leavenworth, a few miles outside the city.” She twisted in the seat. “My turn to ask a question.” She watched her hands as she refolded them in her lap. “I know you work for Guardian Security, but is there more to them than what it says on their website?”
“I haven’t looked lately,” Jonathan confessed, “but we primarily do corporate remote surveillance, residential security, and personal protection. We’re quickly building a cyber-security team, though that’s out of our D.C. center. We don’t provide security guards, at all, but refer clients to companies we’ve deeply vetted. Our men have a specific skill set that is considerably above local law enforcement.”
Her gaze held his as she noted, “Some security businesses are fronts for private military companies, like Blackwater, before they got bought out. Especially corporations that employ a lot of special operations types, like it seems Guardian does.”
Oh, shit! Jonathan had to tread lightly here. He’d been with Alex, and several other Guardian employees, a few months ago on a mission in Iraq. It sure seemed like a military op, but he was there as a Guardian employee. His debrief focused more on maintaining the secrecy of the five women than on the overall mission.
If Gwen was part of a homegrown terrorist cell, what if he told her that Guardian did, at least once, operate in a military-style capacity outside the USA? Would it sh
ut her down completely? Would this date be over? He’d been there and voted yes to Guardian men helping to save Nita from an Islamic State leader. And he’d do it all over again if Alex asked.
“We don’t have any government contracts as far as I know if that’s what you’re asking.” That was the truth. “We do personal protection, but I’ve never been part of any detail protecting anyone from the government. We do a lot of CEO-types.” Then he remembered one incidence. “I did work security at a presidential candidate’s rally in Miami last year.” He shrugged as casually as he could. “Maybe they do more of that out the D.C. office. I’ve only worked in Miami and now here.”
“I see.” Disappointment crossed her face.
Dodged that bullet. Then Jonathan worried that he’d let her down somehow. “Is there a problem with your security system at the diner or your apartment?” His mind shot in another direction and anger rose. “Has someone been hassling you? I can talk to the fucker for you, and make him leave you alone.”
She laid a hand on his chest and reassured him. “No. No one is bothering me or harassing me.” She smiled. “But it was sweet of you to jump to my rescue.”
“I’m a lot of things, but sweet isn’t one of them.” He cupped her face and gave her an opening. “You can tell me anything. I’ll do whatever I can to fix it.”
She seemed to contemplate that for a long minute. “Thank you, Jonathan,” then rolled her face to kiss his palm. Heat pumped through his body with the next heartbeat, shoving blood into his already semi erection.
The vehicle made a sharp turn and Gwen fell into his arms as they pulled in front of the popular five-star restaurant.
She gently sat upright in the supple leather seat. “I’ll keep your offer in mind.”
Jonathan didn’t push for information during the wonderful meal. He kept the conversation light with stories of outlandish requests from people in Miami he’d been a bodyguard for and what he classified as dumb crooks. The meal seemed over too quickly.
He gave Gwen a hand up into the limo and was confronted with her heart-shaped ass as she ducked down for the door. It was perfect. He thought about taking her from behind and wondered if she liked it that way. He certainly did.
When he settled in beside her and shut the door, he took her hand.
“I had a wonderful time tonight.” Gwen’s smile was genuine.
“The night isn’t over…unless you want it to be.” Jonathan saw the hesitation in her gaze, then added, “I have something I want to show you.” He hoped his smile was enough encouragement.
“Show me?” she repeated.
“Yeah. I saw it while on a call last week. You’re going to be amazed.” Then he added, “Trust me?” The question was meant on so many levels.
She nodded. “Where are we going?”
He looked out the windows to get his bearings. He was still learning the city. “It’s only a few more blocks.”
The driver pulled in front of one of the biggest banks in Texas. “Come on.” Jonathan took her hand and opened the door.
“I’ll just wait for you here if you need to use an ATM.” Gwen tried to pull her had away.
He chuckled. “No, sweetheart, this is where it is…what I promised to show you.”
She peered out the door and looked across the wide paved entrance at a twisted metal sculpture that shot water from all directions. She smiled and stepped down. As they walked toward the front doors, she slowed at the fountain. “I’ve never been one for modern art, but this is really cool.”
“Yes, it is.” He placed his hand at the small of her back to guide her on. They needed to move inside. The guard was waiting for them at the door. “Come on.”
She looked up at him in surprise.
“The fountain is interesting, but what I have to show you is fabulous.” He turned her toward the front doors.
“But they’re closed,” she insisted.
“Not to worry,” he said as they approached the door.
“Good evening, Mr. O’Neil,” the guard greeted, although Jonathan was sure he’d never met the man. “Mr. Robertson has left you a gift.” He circled the security desk and set a silver bucket with a bottle of chilling champagne, two crystal flutes, and a tray of strawberries, chocolate dip, and cheese on the high countertop.
Jonathan was stunned. He’d enjoyed Mr. Robertson’s company last week—after spending hours with the gentleman as his building was cleared and it was determined there was no break in—but he never expected anything like this when he’d called earlier today to ask permission.
One glance at Gwen confirmed he’d better explain. Not here, though. “If you’ll grab the tray, I’ll get everything else.”
Fighting a grin, the guard led them to the express elevators and unlocked the doors. He stepped in, inserted a key into the panel and hit the top button. “Just drop the key off on your way out.” Then he stepped out, leaving Jonathan and Gwen alone in the dark wood, executive elevator. The doors closed and they instantly started to ascend.
“I met Mr. Robertson last week when we received an internal alarm at our Operations Center. For such a high profile client, I was required to check it out personally.” She didn’t need to know they’d brought in the Guardian version of a SWAT team and cleared each and every floor.
“Does that happen often?”
“That I have to go out on a call? No.” The elevator slowed and the doors opened. He led the way down the hall and around to the end where he unlocked a door. He went up the stairs first so he could unlock the door at the top.
Jonathan stepped out onto the roof of the bank building and couldn’t stop himself as he breathed in the city from hundreds of feet in the air. He missed the moist breeze from the ocean that cooled Miami every night. Dallas was his new home, and he’d find nuances to cherish about it as well.
Gwen gasped and he spun around. Her eyes were wide, jaw slightly dropped in amazement as she took in the outstanding view. This is what he’d wanted. She deserved something very special, that only a few people ever got to experience.
Satisfied he’d made an excellent choice, Jonathan took the bucket and glasses over to a rusty cocktail table set between two beach chairs. Inwardly he smiled. Gwen had followed him, but her gaze was on the brightly lit skyline, not him. He took the tray from her hands without protest and set it down, filling the small table. “This is Mr. Robertson’s private place. During construction, he’d bring his wife up to each floor as it was finished. She loved the city lights. They’d have a drink, and talk about everything, except his work.”
Jonathan lowered his tall body onto the old, webbed chair and poured the bubbly.
Gwen followed his lead and sat on the edge of the other lounger, facing him. As she took the offered flute, she asked, “Do they still come up here?”
He shook his head. “No. She was diagnosed with cancer and passed away right after they topped out. He still comes up here now and then.”
Gwen looked at the battered outdoor furniture. “He must have really loved her.”
“Yes. I believe he did.” Jonathan didn’t tell her about the tears he’d seen in the older man’s eyes when spoke of his wife. “They’d been married forty years. He showed me pictures of their three children and eight grandkids.”
He took a deep drink of the effervescent wine, preferring the good scotch he’d shared with Mr. Robertson while they’d sat in these very chairs watching the sun rise over the city.
“Do you want kids?” Gwen’s question struck him like a punch to the heart. That would require a wife, at least in his opinion, because he wouldn’t want kids any other way. He’d come from a solid family, unlike so many of his West Palm Beach friends who had multiple steps on both sides. His parents were pushing their thirty-fifth anniversary. His father ran a mid-sized construction company specializing in marine engineering and his mother had worked for an accounting firm all his life. Maybe that was why he’d struck such a chord with Mr. Robertson. He’d love to give his parent
s a few more grands to fuss over, although his older sister and younger brother had supplied three already.
“Yeah, someday.” He wondered if they could practice in a few hours, but said nothing.
She leaned back and pulled her legs onto the lounge. “I want three, maybe four, but at my age, I’ll be lucky if I get one.”
“You’re plenty young enough to have all four.” He couldn’t stop the next question, “Why aren’t you married with four little ones already?”
She didn’t even look his way as she answered casually. “I’ve been engaged twice. It just didn’t work out.”
How could two men be so stupid to let this wonderful woman slip through their hands? “Were they idiots?”
“No.” She sighed. “I was.” She rolled on her side to look at him now. “Gregory and I met while we were college. He was pre-med and so we had a few classes together. We dated for two years, and I was in love. We’d talked about working for Doctors Without Borders, traveling together, helping children all over the world. Graduation week he asked me to marry him…the night before I met his parents. His father announced at supper that he was retiring as soon as Gregory graduated from med school and came home to take over the practice. I overheard his father and mother discussing me later that night. He said,” Gwen lowered her voice an octave, “‘She’ll do, but you’ll have to work with her on her social skills.’” She returned her voice to normal and blasted, “I have manners. And use them.” She went on, “Then his mother berated my sorority and outright said she wished I had belonged to social sorority rather than an academic one.”
“Tell me Gregory had the tenacity to stand up and defend you.” Somehow, Jonathan knew the other man hadn’t.
