by Leah Braemel
“So we know he’s watching you still,” Rosie said after they’d replayed it a half dozen times. “But there’s nothing unique about that voice-no unusual phrases. No accent. Nothing that would identify him.”
“He could be using a spoof card,” Andy suggested. “Make us think he’s in one place when he’s somewhere else.”
“Except the phones are wiped,” Scott counted. “Which means even if they didn’t use it to make the actual phone call, they’d have to clean the receiver at some point right before hand and someone might see whoever it was.”
While they waited for Chad’s team to get back to them, Kris ordered the pizza. When it arrived, they took it into the kitchen, where Rosie perched on a stool at the breakfast nook beside Sam. Andy ate standing so he could monitor the hall cameras at the same time. Scott plated a couple slices and disappeared into the bedroom.
“He’s got to be one of us,” Kris said suddenly. “Or a client at the very least, someone who knows how we work.”
Rosie felt some relief when Sam looked just as confused as she felt.
“The caller,” Kris explained. “He called us CPOs. Not bodyguards the way a normal person would.”
Andy tossed away his third crust of the meat lovers’ pizza he’d insisted upon, having won the pineapple debate. “Don’t jump to conclusions, Skippy. Any one reading the Hauberk website knows that’s what we’re called. Besides, most companies call their employees CPOs these days.”
“Okay,” Kris persisted. “So how about when he said he was better than us. Maybe it’s someone who wants to make Hauberk itself look bad to future clients? Maybe we should be looking at Hauberk’s competition.”
“Could be. Or maybe it’s an ego thing,” Andy suggested, grabbing another slice. “You know, like that movie where Clint Eastwood is a secret service agent and John Malkovich is out to kill the president.”
“Man, Rene Russo was hot in that movie.” Kris shook his hand as if he’d been burned.
When Kris and Andy started debating which movies got the details of bodyguards and police work wrong, Sam shoved his plate away and stalked out.
Rosie hurried after him out of their apartment and down the hall toward the elevators. “Sam, wait. You agreed you’d not go out without one of us with you.”
His fists clenched and unclenched before he faced her. “Look, Rosebud, I’ve played this game for over a week now. I’ve cancelled appointments that I shouldn’t have, I let you guys answer my door like you’re my goddamned butlers, and I’ve been driven around in the limo like I’m Miss Freakin’ Daisy. Christ, when we’re out somewhere, Campbell and Phillips even follow me into the bathroom when I have to take a-” he swallowed what he was going to say, “-leak. And where’s it gotten me? Nowhere. That sonovabitch is still out there laughing at me. Well, no more. If he’s watching, I’m damned well going to draw him out.”
“How? You going to stand on the sidewalk and put a target on your chest and yell shoot me?”
“If that’ll end this, I’m willin’.”
She grabbed his arm, feeling the tenseness of the muscle beneath her fingers. “You aren’t seriously going out there, are you?”
He ran a hand back and forth over his head and heaved a sigh. “No. But damn it…” His hand moved from his head to her cheek. “There’s only one other thing I’d rather be doin’ than giving in to this SOB. You thought anything more about that accord, Rosebud?”
Her head tilted until her cheek rested in his palm. “I can’t, Sam. I like my job, I like working at Hauberk. If you and I have an affair, when it ends, I’ll be out of a job.” When he started to protest, she straightened her head and took a half step back, leaving his hand hovering mid-air before he dropped it a second later.
“I’m not one for casual sex. If I have an affair with you, it’ll turn into something more and you’ll…well, you’re the boss, so I’ll be the one looking for a new job.” She paused, waiting for the ache that had started in her heart to ease. “I’d have to leave Hauberk, Sam. I couldn’t stay. No matter how much you say my job isn’t on the line, my heart is. And I’m not willing to lose either.”
“Who says it would have to end?” He stepped closer, but didn’t touch her. He didn’t have to. Her body was so aware of him it swayed toward him. Her lungs tried to fill up with that scent of him, imprinting it indelibly because one day she knew she’d never smell it again.
“Affairs always end, Sam.” And in her experience, they never ended with them being just friends.
“Maybe I want more than an affair, Rosie. Maybe I’m lookin’ for the long term.”
Her eyes closed on their own. He was so smooth, so convincing. And she wanted to believe him, but she also knew his history-she’d been checking him out along with the other employees. No one she’d interviewed could remember Sam Watson dating a woman longer than four months since he’d been with Hauberk. And he hadn’t committed himself to a longer term relationship with her, he’d simply said “maybe.”
It would end.
The door at the far end of the hall opened and the fox terrier streaked toward them, yapping its head off. The connection between them broken, Rosie stepped between Sam and the open door, her hand on her gun.
Mrs. O’Mara appeared in the doorway, and peered at them over her coke-bottle glasses. “Oh, it’s just you two. Come back here, Georgie, you naughty boy. I’d told you it wasn’t anything to worry about.”
As the old lady closed the door behind her, Rosie headed back toward 1202. Knowing he was watching, counting on it, she accentuated the roll of her hips. “So how about we go back in and see if we can find who’s been taking those photos?”
He heaved an overly dramatic sigh. “You think I don’t realize you’re tryin’ to distract me from goin’ out and finding my stalker?”
“Is it working?”
“Hell, yes.”
Chapter Thirteen
The next night Sam didn’t appear for their usual research session. Instead he bypassed their door and headed straight to his apartment. Andy gave her a shrug and trailed him while Scott ducked into their apartment. Ten minutes later Scott sat across from Rosie, burying himself in the files piled on the dining room table.
Dark circles ringed his eyes-evidence of the nightmares he denied having but they all heard every night. Not a surprise. After Sam’s cryptic comment, she’d read Scott’s file. He’d spent three months as a hostage of some obscure group in Colombia, escaping through hostile terrain with tales of brutality that had everyone worried about those left in the camp. When he’d been cleared medically, Troy and Sam had both tried to convince him to take some time off, he’d refused and so ended up on her team.
For the next hour, she and Scott slogged through more of the Hauberk client files, while Kris finished going through the Security Guard files. She placed the last of her current pile on the table and rubbed the back of her neck against the ache that was forming. “I’m not finding anything. How about you?”
“Nothing concrete.” Kris picked up the list he’d made. “Got a few trainees who might be bitter because they washed out the Protection Agency program and ended up guarding buildings. And there are a couple who got fired who might qualify but from what I’ve seen of their write-ups they couldn’t find their dicks with a magnifying glass.”
“Guess that makes you a suspect, too,” Scott said with a grin. “I found a few possibles in the client files, but one’s left the country, one’s dead, and the other hired some hot shot firm out in California to guard them. So I can’t see they’re viable suspects.”
Before she could reply, Rosie’s Berry chirped with a familiar double tone announcing a text message had arrived. Sam.
Table 4 2 set in 1201
She shook her head and went back to the list of employees working for the Security Guard division. Five minutes later, her Berry chimed again. Chicken Creole.
“Is there a problem?” Scott asked.
“No, it’s just Sam wants me to eat
at his place tonight.”
Kris, who had buried himself in yet another folder, looked up with a hopeful expression on his face. “What’s he cooking?”
When she told him, he closed the file. “Hey, if you don’t want it, I’ll go. I’ve got dibs.”
“Be my guest-”
Before she could finish, Kris dashed to the front door and slammed it behind him.
A minute later, her Berry chimed again. Not Kris. You. On the heels of that message came another. Clothing optional.;)
Sheesh! That one didn’t even warrant a reply.
The front door opened and Andy stomped in, obviously grumpy as Kris trailed him. “Sam says to get your butt over there before the champagne goes flat.”
“Champagne, as if,” she muttered. “He doesn’t have any. All he has is Heineken.”
“Yeah, he does,” Scott said. “He asked me to pick up a couple bottles of Dom Perignon this afternoon.”
“Kris, why don’t you go into the kitchen and toss one of those frozen cannellonis Rosie bought into the oven. Scott…” Andy paused. “Shoot, just leave us alone, will you? I want to have a private word with Rosie.”
Some sort of unspoken communication passed between the two men. Scott nodded and headed to his bedroom as her Berry rang again.
Apple Crumble amp; French vanilla ice cream 4 dessert.
What had he done? Called her mother to find out her favorite dessert? And vanilla ice cream, how ironic. If ice cream was a metaphor for sex, vanilla certainly described her love life lately. She had a feeling Sam’s would be Rocky Road.
“When are you going to admit there’s something between you two?” Andy asked quietly.
“You know the rules say operatives can’t get romantically involved with their principals.”
“Oh, screw the rules.” He groaned as he flopped onto the couch. “Come on, Rosie, you gotta give the rest of us poor shlubs some hope.”
“I’m not willing to risk my job for a couple of nights of…” mindblowing sex, but she wasn’t about to say that, “…fun. Because at some point it’ll end and I’ll be out of a job.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Or you could end up Mrs. Rosie Watson, mother of 2.4 kids and part owner of Hauberk. You’re using the job as a shield, Rosie. Since when did you sprout a yellow stripe on your back?”
“It’s just…” She rubbed her face with her hands. Day by day, hour by hour, Sam had been chinking away at her armor until the barriers she’d thrown up were tissue-paper thin. “It’s just Sam’s so…Sam, you know?”
“Larger than life? I thought women liked that type.” He leaned back, sprawling his legs wide, his arms stretched along the back of the couch. “You’re not usually a coward, so what’s the problem?”
“He’s…he’s not like any other man I’ve ever dated before,” she said slowly. He makes me feel things with an intensity I’ve never felt before. He makes me want to do things with him, to him, for him I’ve never considered with another man.
Whenever she felt any of her other lovers gaining any modicum of control over her, her claws came out and they ended up running away with their tails between their legs. But for some reason she couldn’t fathom, all her need for control fled around Sam.
“Can’t say I know many people like him, so that makes sense.” He rubbed his thumbs across his eyes. “I have to be honest, Sam’s got his kinky side, but I don’t think he’d ever ask you to do something you weren’t willing to do. He’s not a big bad wolf who’s going to tear you apart. Besides I get the feeling you could wrap him around your little finger if you tried.”
What the hell did Sam’s got his kinky side mean? But before she could ask, he eyed her suspiciously. “You haven’t got some hang up about sex, have you?”
She plopped onto the couch beside him, her legs unable to support her. Her face felt like someone had just set a flamethrower to it. “No. It’s not about sex.”
No, sex with Sam Watson would be off the charts of the Incredible Scale. Look at the orgasm he’d given her with only his tongue and fingers. Her pussy started creaming just at the thought of his cock filling into her.
One of side of his mouth hitched up. “I’m just saying I think you could trust Sam not to overstep whatever boundaries you set, you know?” He gestured to her Blackberry which was buzzing again. “Besides, he’s only asking you to dinner.”
With her as dessert.
Trouble was, now she didn’t know if she’d simply become a challenge to be conquered. A rose to be pruned, enjoyed until the blossom faded, and then tossed aside and replaced with a new flower. She buried her face in her hands. “It’s not just dinner. It’s more than that.” It’s my whole life. My job. My home. My heart.
“You have a chance at love and you’re kicking it away like it’s an old tin can when the rest of us…” Andy trailed off. “Well, the some of us have it yanked from us, you know? And we’d give anything to grab it and hold onto it.”
She grabbed the only lifeline she could find. “I don’t know.”
Andy pushed himself to a stand. “Just think of it as your downtime. Pretend you went to bed early and let me look after things here. The place is secure-nothing’s going to happen. If someone wanted to take a pot shot at him, it’ll be somewhere public. Otherwise they’d have already gotten to him.”
“But it’s my-”
He pulled her to her feet and marched her to the door. “Go have dinner with Sam, Rosie. And if you two don’t hit it off, come back here.”
Her Berry beeped again. Trust me. Please.
It was the please that unraveled all her arguments, that had her walking down the hallway.
Just as she lifted her hand to knock, the door opened and Sam stood there, filling the doorway.
“About that accord…” she whispered.
Chapter Fourteen
The smug smile she was expecting never appeared. Instead he bent down, brushing his lips over hers in a feather-light touch before pulling back and leading her by both hands into the foyer. He closed the door and pulled her close, cupping her cheek.
“Are you sure ’bout this, Rosebud? ’Cause I don’t want you saying I pressured you later.”
No, she wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but there was no way she was going to stop whatever rock had just started rolling down the hill to perdition. Not after she’d had a sampling of the bliss he could bring her. Besides, Andy was right, she had a shot at happiness, something she should grab with both hands. She’d had enough of all the coulda-woulda-shouldas. Even if their affair only lasted one night, she wouldn’t-couldn’t-turn away now.
When she nodded, he slid one hand down to her bottom and lifted her until his erection nestled in the cradle of her hips. She felt a quiver of trepidation mixed with a tidal wave of lust. That thing wouldn’t just fill her, it would overfill her. And she wanted every inch of it deep inside.
Could he feel how her heart raced or hear how her breathing caught in her throat? Could he smell the moisture drenching her thong at the thought of him going down on her again? Of her going down on him?
He shifted his grip, sliding one hand beneath her knees, lifting her, then carried her into his bedroom. As he laid her on his bed, he kissed her again, the tip of his tongue seeking entry.
With a soft sigh she parted her lips. He tasted of champagne and spice, of power and strength. Intoxicating. Potent.
She stroked the thick length of his tongue with hers, mimicking what she would do to his shaft. A moan started deep down inside her chest when one hand slipped under her sweatshirt and cupped her breast. Through the lace of her bra, his fingers played with the sensitive tip, soothing, inciting. A flick of his fingers, and her bra no longer formed a barrier. Heat streaked over her skin everywhere his fingers touched like a fiery brand. She lifted her arms to help when he pulled her sweatshirt and bra over her head.
“Oh, baby, you’re so beautiful,” he whispered. Lowering his head to her breast, his tongue lapped
her nipple, her back arched, pushing the taut peak into his mouth.
“Do you remember when you were in my office the day this all started?” he asked softly, his breath a caress over her bare skin.
She nodded as she slid her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, feeling the strength that held him rock solid above her.
“Did you know I couldn’t turn around because I had a hard-on?” Similar to the one that pushed into her belly.
“Or that when you were watching my reflection in the window, I was wondering what your creamy little pussy tasted like?” His breath whispered over her neck sending a shiver wiggling down her spine. “And once I’d had a taste of it, I craved more.”
Was that really why he’d not turned around? He’d been fantasizing about her the way she had been?
He’d undone her cargo pants and slid them off her hips in a move so smooth she hadn’t realized what he’d done until the cool air rippled over her thighs.
When one of his fingers dipped beneath the thin band of her thong, her hips arched, bringing her clit closer to his fingers. He barely touched her yet her pussy ached, so close to orgasm she felt ready to implode.
“So silky and wet,” he murmured. “That night-after I made you come with my tongue-did you wonder what it would be like to have me inside you?”
“Yes.” She’d not slept until she’d dragged out her vibrator and driven herself into a frenzy imagining it was him inside her.
Lust, that’s all it was, she’d told herself. She’d been in a dry spell and someone was finally paying her a little attention. That’s why she was all hot and bothered and ready to orgasm with a single touch. Besides, he was a guy-all guys wanted pussy no matter where they got it. And she was a woman who needed what he had because no matter how many times she used her vibrator, its cool latex could never replicate the sheer heaven of hot pulsing cock.
