Last First Kiss

by Sidney Halston

  With a smirk, Joey answered, “You wanted the job, you got it.” She wanted to punch the smug smirk off his dickhead face. Obviously, this was amusing her brother. Of course it was. It proved that the only way a woman could do the job was because she could bat her eyelashes, push up her tits, and pretend she was dating the client. Her skills hadn’t landed her the job, her vagina had.

  And that was not the way she was going to get what she wanted. “I wanted. Past tense. And that’s not how I wanted the job. I want to be a valued member of ICS, not just some airheaded idiot standing next to a movie star. It’s one thing for a jerkwad of a client to ask me to look pretty, but I’m not coming back just so ICS can use me as window dressing for a big client and then bench me back to IT for the next fifty years.”

  “For lots of money,” Joey added.

  “So a whore? Makes me feel a lot better, Joe.” She shook her head angrily—no, not angry, hurt. So hurt she felt the telltale lump in her throat and knew that her eyes would soon fill with tears. But, no—no way would she cry. It was why Joey, and men in general, didn’t think women could do the same jobs as men. She swallowed the lump down and inhaled deeply. This was her chance to get what she really wanted.

  “I’m not going to do this job unless you agree that from now on I get to go after the same jobs as the rest of the team.” Ultimately, she didn’t give a shit what Rocco thought, she was used to sexism. Her looks had got her foot in the door and now she would have to prove to him that she was a lot more than a pretty face. It was that her brother—her flesh and blood—couldn’t see past her gender that really bothered her.

  “You’re my sister. Don’t call yourself a whore. I don’t like it. If something happens, we expect you to do your job. And for the record, I don’t think you’re an airhead idiot and neither does anyone at ICS.” For the first time since walking into her apartment he looked serious.

  “You don’t think I can handle myself. Otherwise you’d have given me the job from the beginning. I bet you’re only here because Jax made you come and beg me to take it.”

  “No one begged me to do anything, Annie.” He exhaled loudly. “I was being an ass, okay? I acknowledge it. It’s just . . . you’re my baby sister and I don’t like the way he looks at you, and also I don’t want you out there where there’s crazy people who could hurt you.” Again, his face was serious, and she could see how much he struggled with letting go on that hold he thought he had on her. Without a father around, Joey had pretty much taken on that role. “But this is a good job. Jax helped me see that. For this job, this is what you get to do. You get to pretend to be his girl and keep your eyes and ears open. I’m not totally cool with this, but I can live with it.”

  She shook her head. “You can live with it? How about me? What do I have to live with? What happens after these four months?”

  “Let’s see how this job goes and then we’ll talk, okay?”

  “Talk? And you promise to give me a real chance at some real fieldwork?”

  “Yes, kid. I promise, okay?” She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

  “Thank you, Joey!” She clapped excitedly.

  “And do not sleep with him! He’s the client and he’s also a womanizing playboy, understand?”

  “I would never. He’s the job and it’s all pretend. Don’t worry.”

  “Good.” He stood up and playfully rubbed the top of her head like he used to do when they were kids. She swatted his hand away and then stood up to walk him out.

  He winked and smiled. “Jesus, that was like pulling fucking teeth. How do you stand living with her?” he asked Xander.

  Xander shrugged. “She’s good at taking out the trash.”

  “I’ll call Monroe’s people and let them know how amenable and excited you are to get started. Later, Xan.”

  “Later, Joe.”

  “Oh, and Annie?” he asked before leaving. “Don’t shut me out again. When I call you pick up the phone, okay?”

  She puffed out a breath. God, she loved her brother. “Never again. Love you, Joe.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Love you too, kid.”

  Once he left, Xan practically jumped and pirouetted to the couch. “Rocco Freakin’ Monroe! I better be your maid of honor at the wedding of the century! Mrs. Anabelle Monroe.”

  She flung herself back on the sofa and covered her face with a pillow. “Ugh! It’s just going to be pretend.”

  Xander chuckled. “Famous last words, honey. Famous last words.”

  * * *

  “How’d it go with ICS on Wednesday?” Paul asked as he spotted Rocco’s weight training. On an exhale, Rocco lifted the weight. This was the second set and his arms were burning. With Paul’s help, he returned the weight back to its slot with a loud clang.

  “Went well.”

  “Really? Then why are we working out on a Saturday night?”

  Usually Rocco had meetings, premieres, or photo shoots to go to, but today he’d cancelled everything and gone to his home gym. The way Annie had kicked his ass made him want to pump iron. Mostly to blow off some steam, but also to prove to himself he was fit enough to take on a girl. The woman was fire. He’d never met anyone like her. She’d barely glanced at him, except to pummel his ass, and unlike the other women in his life she didn’t, at all, swoon. And that is a word he’d heard a lot from women. He was, after all, Rocco Fucking Monroe. Sexiest Man Alive. What woman didn’t swoon? Annabelle Clad, that was who.

  “Because I’ve been slacking. I need to be in tip-top shape for El Traficante.”

  Paul snorted. “Slacking? You work out six days a week. Hell, we were here this morning. What’s really going on?”

  Rocco didn’t want to admit what was actually bothering him. Shit, he couldn’t quite pinpoint it himself. It was a combination of everything: All the negative publicity he’d been getting, the fact that he needed a bodyguard, that a woman had tackled him to the ground, and that that same woman hadn’t even looked at him twice when he had been so instantly and ardently attracted to her. That had been a first.

  But Paul was like a brother to him. They’d both grown up in the same foster care, and only by the grace of God—and luck—Rocco had been spotted by a modeling agent at a mall at seventeen and his career had taken off from there.

  He sat down on a bench and wiped his brow. “My bodyguard is five foot seven, strawberry blond, hazel eyes, fucking stacked, and fucking beautiful. I don’t think she knows who the hell I am.”

  It was bullshit. Of course she knew who he was. Everybody knew who he was, but Annabelle Clad didn’t seem affected by it.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Paul held up his hands, waving off Rocco’s crisis of fame. “I don’t remember NHN saying anything about a woman. You were supposed to go to the place I sent you.”

  Rocco threw the towel aside and stretched his hamstrings, with a knowing smirk on his face. Paul was not going to like this. “I did. I went. The studio said I needed security. They didn’t specify gender.” And he was so glad they hadn’t because he wanted Annie, badly.

  Paul groaned dramatically. “Rock, man.”

  “She’s legit. Seriously.” He exhaled, and finally admitted as he switched to the other leg, “She beat me up.”

  “Pardon?”

  Rocco explained what had happened as he did pull-ups. “ . . . so she wanted the job and I laughed when she suggested it. Because man . . .” He shook his head thinking of the way she looked. “Wait until you see her and you’ll understand. But that was a colossal mistake because she did some kung fu shit and flipped me on my ass.”

  “So naturally you hired her.”

  “Well, of course. She isn’t just hot, man, she’s got skills. And she’ll blend in.”

  “Have you even seen the contract yet?” Paul asked. “What are the terms? I hope you didn’t sign anything without me or your attorney reviewing it.”

  Rocco released his grip and dropped down and reached for his water bottle with a shrug. It didn’t matter
what he said, he was hiring Annie and that was the end of it. “Nope. Don’t care. She’s perfect. Hot as fuck.”

  “Not exactly the qualifications for a bodyguard.”

  “Did you hear what I said? She body-flipped me. Like over her head and on my ass. She’s qualified. The fact she’s hot is just a bonus. With her by my side, no one will suspect she’s my bodyguard.”

  Paul rolled his eyes. “She probably slid you her personal cell number before she kicked your ass.”

  “Negative.” Rocco tossed the water bottle into the garbage can. “Didn’t even know who I was.”

  “You know that’s bullshit. She may not drool all over you, but she knows who you are. And eventually, you’ll do whatever it is you do that makes women want to sleep with you.”

  “I don’t do anything. Haven’t you read People magazine? I’m charming,” he teased his friend. “Women can’t help it.” This was all in jest because the truth was that no amount of charm would work on Annie. He knew that from the few minutes they’d been in the same room. But even so, he wanted to know more about her. She was intriguing and he wondered whether she was always that confident and tough.

  If he got to know her, would she be soft and sweet? Or was she always that feisty? And why did she have that big chip on her shoulder? Was it just because of her brother, or was there more to it than that?

  “I think this is a mistake but you’re a big boy and you seem hell-bent on this, so not much I can do about it now, is there?”

  “Nope, there’s not,” Rocco said as he walked out of his personal gym. “I’m gonna grill some burgers, want any?”

  Paul looked at his phone and then stood. “Nah, it’s late. I need to go. Be good and keep me posted on the bodyguard situation.”

  Rocco patted Paul on the shoulder as he walked him to the door. “Her name’s Annabelle and it’s going to be great.”

  The next day, after his morning routine and while having breakfast, Rocco’s phone beeped with an incoming email from Paul.

  Just read the contract, and it’s a go. Studio is signing it since they’re paying. ICS will be in touch to set up an initial meet to go over logistics.

  Great, Rocco thought.

  In forty-eight hours he’d be living together with a woman for the first time in his life, and ironically it was the same woman who hadn’t looked twice at him before kicking his ass.

  He doubled up on the gym again that day.

  * * *

  It was Tuesday morning and Rocco was fluffing the pillows on his couch.

  Fluffing fucking pillows.

  He’d never fluffed a goddamn pillow in his life.

  But he wanted the house to be presentable, inviting, perfect for Annie. He’d even resorted to Googling her. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much online other than she was a decorated Military Police for the US Army and an employee of ICS. She didn’t have any social media accounts, as far as he could find, or old blogs, vlogs, or YouTube tutorials. In fact, in the last couple of days, he’d become rather obsessed with Annabelle Clad, and he needed to calm himself before she arrived. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was hoping a short frumpy ugly woman would walk in instead. That he’d somehow gotten the wrong impression of her in those few minutes. Because he’d never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before and he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling.

  Definitely, he didn’t like the way his heart pounded in anticipation of her coming over. Or the fact that he’d bet his right arm that she’d taken the job reluctantly.

  The first clue was when Rocco had called Joey at ICS and asked if he’d be so kind as to give him Annie’s phone number. Joey had said they didn’t give out employee information, but he would relay the message to Annie who would call him within the hour. Two days later, Rocco was still waiting for her call.

  The second clue was when two boxes of protein powders and bars were delivered to his house that morning after he had made his housekeeper, Wendy, stock his refrigerator specifically with his new shadow in mind. Apparently Annabelle was not planning on having any meals with him.

  Luckily, Rocco was patient and persistent. She wasn’t going to even try to let him get to know her. How could they have a wild four-month fling if she didn’t even try to get to know him?

  The buzz at the front gate had him tossing the pillow down. He looked out the window to see a brand-new Ferrari. From where he stood, he could see the sleek red paint and the iconic yellow logo on the hood. Damn—the car was gorgeous. The woman truly was a badass. He pressed the button opening the gate, and the car rolled in with a hum.

  She rounded the driveway and parked behind the fountain as he waited by the front door. Rocco was about to step down to help her out of the car when the driver’s side door swung open and Joey stepped out. So maybe it wasn’t her car after all.

  Now, he found himself wondering what she drove. Just one more thing to add to the growing list of things he wanted to know about this mystery girl.

  * * *

  Annabelle hated Joey’s douchey car, which he had won at some sort of nerd convention, but she needed a lift to Rocco’s house and Joey had volunteered. Well, more like demanded to take her and “check out the joint.”

  “You better behave, kid. You’re representing ICS,” Joey warned her as they stepped out of the car. It pissed her off to no end that he talked to her as if she was a bratty child. She was a twenty-seven-year-old, grown-ass woman who didn’t need to be told what to do or how to act. And this wasn’t about some sort of misplaced concern for his little sister. This was just him being an ass—plain and simple. In response, she gave him the middle finger.

  “Real mature, Annie.” He glared.

  “Suck my dick,” she responded. That was probably why he treated her like a child. She knew she was acting like one. But still, she couldn’t help it. Taking a deep breath, she readied herself to re-meet the man she’d beaten up last time she saw him.

  Rocco was gorgeous, absolutely the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

  Tall, lean, with cheekbones that hinted at a unique blend of Hispanic or maybe an Italian background. Whatever he was, he was a man meant for the silver screen. And Annie couldn’t help but admire the smooth way he spoke and the confident way he carried himself. She wasn’t a huge fan of the bulky types, like Jax. And Rocco’s lithe frame had her thinking all sort of dirty, delicious thoughts. Dirty, delicious thoughts that needed to end right now. Because while he might look like her dream man, this was her dream job.

  She would keep it professional, no matter what.

  Leaning against the opened front door in black lounge pants, a white T-shirt, and bare feet, Rocco looked the epitome of relaxed and chic. Except that his eyes roamed over her body like a soft caress, and when they finally made their way up, the corner of his mouth tipped up and his tongue snuck out to wet his top lip, slightly. He was attracted to her, that much had been obvious. But from what she’d read about him online, the man was attracted to anything that moved.

  Upon further inspection, though, the way his shirt hugged his biceps . . . maybe there was more bulk underneath his clothes than she’d originally imagined.

  “Annabelle,” he said, in a low raspy voice that sent unwelcome tingles down her spine.

  “Rocco,” she replied, standing just a few feet away from him, her big duffel bag on her shoulder, mirrored sunglasses on her face, and her arms crossed over her chest. Professional, professional, professional, she chanted to herself. She didn’t want to give him the impression that she found him attractive because it wouldn’t take much for her to melt into a puddle of lustful goo right at his feet. Plus, she wasn’t a casual sex kind of girl—he’d chew her up and toss her aside before she knew what was coming. That was another reason to stay away and keep things completely professional.

  Joey stepped forward, his arm outstretched. “Call her Annie, she prefers it.” They shook hands, but Annie stayed put watching the interaction, which basically consisted of Rocco’s eyes glued to hers
with a sly smile.

  “Does she talk or just glare?” Rocco asked, and then finally turned away to face her brother, even though he couldn’t see her through her sunglasses.

  Hiking her bag up higher on her shoulder, she pushed past him into the house. “Occasionally, I beat up the clients too,” she sassed, not bothering to look over her shoulder as she spoke.

  He laughed at the same time as Joey groaned, and she could faintly hear her brother apologizing to Rocco on her behalf.

  “I’m going to grab the rest of your stuff,” Joey said to Annie as he went back to the car. “Please behave.” Then he turned to Rocco, “You sure you wouldn’t want someone else?”

  She could hear Rocco laughing from where she was by the living room. “No. She’s perfect.”

  “Where can I put this?” she called out, lifting her bag so he could see it from the door. Rocco walked to her and attempted to take the duffel from her, but she sidestepped him. “I don’t need you to carry my stuff. I’m perfectly capable. Just point me in the right direction.”

  The smirk didn’t leave his face, and it became perfectly clear at that moment that the more she sassed him, the more he liked it. As if she were a challenge.

  Men.

  Leaning closely he whispered, “I will never doubt you’re perfectly capable. This is about me being a gentleman. And I’d like to carry it, not because you can’t handle it, but because I don’t want you to have to handle it.” He took the bag from her arm and turned around, not giving her a chance to answer. “You coming, Tiger?”

  Tiger? A sudden pang of memories flooded her and she stood frozen in place.

  “Annie?”

  She shook the cobwebs from her head and straightened. “Sorry. Right behind you.”

  He smiled, and those infamous dimples dipped deep into his cheeks. Fuck, he was going to be trouble. She was unaccustomed to men being so attentive to her. Like she was . . . fragile.

  As much as she hated to admit it, it was nice.

  Even Derek, who she had loved with all her heart, had rarely done anything chivalrous for her. Maybe it was because they’d been in the middle of Kandahar and she didn’t need to be taken care of. Or maybe he wasn’t the kind of man who liked to hold open doors or carry a woman’s bag. Whatever the reason was, she’d never know.