by Mallory Kane
Sean glanced back at Sophie, then sent Rosita a pleading look.
“Rosita, this is Sophie Brooks. Ms. Brooks is involved in the case I’m working. Would you get her something to drink? I’ll look at Michaela’s drawing, then jump in the shower.”
Rosita sent Sophie another suspicious glance. “Ten minutes, you bad boy. You owe me many days off.”
“Yes I do, and as soon as this case is over I’ll send you on a cruise. How’s that?”
The woman beamed. “To Cancún?”
“Anywhere you want to go.”
As Sean disappeared into the room to the west of the kitchen, Rosita turned her black eyes to Sophie.
“May I get you something?”
Sophie’s mouth was dry, her eyes were threatening to fill with tears, and her limbs had started quivering again.
“Please,” she managed. “A soft drink or iced tea? I apologize for the trouble.”
“Pah.” Rosita waved a hand. “It is no trouble. But I am muy surprised. He has never been late because of a woman.”
The woman’s words surprised her. “Oh, this is not—”
But Rosita had disappeared into the kitchen.
Sophie sank back down onto the sofa. The big ordeal was over. She’d met Sean Majors’s child and managed to get through it without freezing up or breaking down.
She accepted a glass of iced tea from Rosita, who stood surveying the living room.
“I suppose I must pick up these toys,” she grumbled. “And finish loading the dishwasher. I spent the whole evening trying to keep the muchacha from crying.”
Sophie nodded. She didn’t know what to say. Then, as Rosita began to bend over, picking up stuffed animals and balls, she set her tea down and stood.
“Rosita, why don’t I pick up the toys, and you can finish in the kitchen.”
The woman straightened with a groan and gave Sophie the once-over. “Are you planning to stay all night?”
“What? No!” Her face flamed. “Mr. Majors is taking me back to Weddings Your Way. But he had to stop and see his daughter first.” She met Rosita’s gaze. “If he could have avoided it, he wouldn’t have brought me up here at all.”
Rosita raised her eyebrows and muttered something under her breath in Spanish as she whirled and went back to the kitchen, obviously believing Sophie wouldn’t understand her.
But she did. She spoke fluent Spanish. After all, she’d grown up in a Puerto Rican household. Spanish had been beaten into her all her life.
Rosita had said, ¡Acertó! It essentially meant, You got that right!
AS SOON AS SEAN came out of his room, freshly showered and shaved, Rosita propped her hands on her hips and pinned him with those black eyes.
“I have a good mind to take off a few days and go visit my sister.”
“Rosita, I need you here. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. But right now, one of my men is in the hospital, and Sonya Botero is still missing.”
“Ay-yay-yay, I know, I know.” She waved a hand in his direction and nodded toward the living room. “Who is this one, then?”
Sean frowned. “She works for Weddings Your Way. She was involved in an incident today and I offered to take her home to change.”
“Ah.” Rosita’s black eyes snapped. “And it had to be a blond one, eh?”
“Rosita—”
“At least she’s smarter than your ex-wife.”
He raised his eyebrows. “What makes you say that?”
She angled her head toward the sofa where Sophie sat. “She knows you.” His housekeeper and former nanny nodded and propped her fists on her hips again.
For an instant, Sean stared at her in shock, then stole a glance at Sophie, who was tracing a drop of condensation down the side of the iced-tea glass she held.
“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. We just met. She doesn’t know me, any more than I know her.”
“Well, it is much too late for an old woman like me to be driving alone through the city. I will stay. Michaela might need me.” With an exaggerated sigh, Rosita headed toward Michaela’s room.
Sean blew out a breath in annoyance. “You don’t have to chaperone, Rosita. Sophie—Ms. Brooks—is leaving.”
“You have just told me you need me. Besides, I need a new TV. I can use the overtime.”
Sean laughed and shook his head. He loved the little woman who had helped raise him and who adored his daughter. “Rosita, I should have you arrested for extortion.”
“Yes, then who would put up with your late hours and your slave wages?” Her eyes sparked as she slipped through Michaela’s door. “I will see you in the morning.”
He couldn’t help a small chuckle. So much for who was boss in this house. He was relieved, though. With Rosita to watch Michaela, he could get an early start in the morning.
As he stepped into the living room, Sophie turned her blue eyes toward him.
He glared at her. While he was in the shower, it had hit him what a mistake he’d made. What had he been thinking, allowing her to come up to his apartment? They were in her car. He could have just sent her on. The truck he’d rented was still at Weddings Your Way, but his own car was in the garage downstairs.
Well, he’d fix that right now. “It occurred to me that you could have gone on. You’re in your own car. Sorry to make you wait.”
“Oh!” Her eyes widened. She hadn’t thought of it, either. “You’re right. I’ll—go now. I apologize.”
She stood, reaching for her purse, and knocked over the glass of tea which, luckily, was nearly empty.
Sean reached for the glass at the same time she did and came in contact with her hand. She was ice-cold and trembling.
He took her hand in his. “What’s the matter with you?”
She moistened her lips as her cheeks pinkened. “It’s nothing. I’m just a little shaky. It’s late.” She paused and pulled her hand away from his. “Thank you for driving me this afternoon.”
“You haven’t eaten.” She was exhausted and hungry, and some of her barriers were down. She seemed more—human, approachable.
“I’ll get something on the way home.” She reached again for her purse, her hand shaking like a leaf in a storm.
“You can’t drive like that,” he said reluctantly. His brain tried to tick off all the reasons for not letting her stay in his apartment one minute longer. But she’d been through so much today, and she hadn’t complained at all.
“I’m sure there’s dinner waiting for me. I’ll be glad to share.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t.” Her gaze went past him toward Michaela’s bedroom.
“Michaela’s asleep. It would take a bomb to wake her, which is good, because any minute now you’ll hear a sound like a freight train. That will be Rosita snoring.”
He waited, but Sophie didn’t smile. It occurred to him that she’d been extremely uncomfortable around his daughter. Frowning, he reminded himself it didn’t matter.
As soon as they managed to get Sonya Botero back, he’d have no further reason to see Sophie. So if she wasn’t into children, it was no skin off his nose.
Sophie’s knuckles whitened around her purse and she swayed, barely enough to notice.
“Okay, that settles it. Get in here.” He headed toward the kitchen. “Let’s see what the lovely and oh-so-polite Rosita has left for us.”
He heard a surprising sound. Turning, he realized it was Sophie laughing. Her laugh was light, unaffected, and made her eyes sparkle and her nose crinkle.
When he stared, she ducked her head. “I’m sorry. It’s just—your description—” She smiled again and glanced up at him from under her eyelashes.
“Well, Rosita is more like a mother than a housekeeper. She was my nanny. She raised me.”
Sophie heard the love behind his words, and her heart twisted. A tingling sensation crawled up her back as she thought of the woman rearing him, rearing his child.
She recognized it immediately. It was fear for the beaut
iful little girl he obviously loved so much.
“Was she—is she strict?” she asked.
“Rosita?” He opened the refrigerator and leaned over, cocking one jeans-clad hip, to look inside. “Nah. She talks big, but she was always a pushover.”
Emotions swirled inside Sophie—heartache, guilt, longing, the memories of pain and, as always, the shroud of loneliness.
Sean’s devastating good looks and strong presence filled up the room. He smelled fresh and warm, like a shower, and the jeans and white T-shirt he wore traced the enticing curve of his spine and fit perfectly over his backside. He’d shaved, and his hair was damp and curling slightly at his nape.
It wasn’t just his physical presence, either. This room, the whole apartment, was filled with love. It was as if he’d left the competent, serious security chief of one of the most influential businessmen in Miami outside the door.
In here, he was a father who adored his child.
Sophie was in way over her head, and she wasn’t sure how she’d gotten there. Sean’s obvious love for his daughter and his genuine affection for the woman who had reared him frightened her like nothing ever had. She didn’t know how to deal with that kind of emotion.
She needed to get out of here. She should have left already.
She never should have come.
She repressed the urge to glance behind her to gauge the distance to the front door.
“Okay,” Sean said. “We’ve got leftover paella, cold cuts, a big salad, and I smell fresh bread.”
She jumped. “I—salad will be fine. It’s late.”
He nodded. With an efficiency of movement that awed her, he set the salad and cold cuts on the kitchen table and grabbed plates and flatware. “Do you mind if I open a bottle of wine?”
She shrugged and sat across from him at the table. After a few bites of salad and freshly baked bread, and a couple of swallows of wine, Sophie began to feel immensely better.
She looked across at Sean—at Botero’s chief of security, she corrected herself—and forced herself to think about the events of the day. She’d been so wrapped up in her own misery and conflicting emotions that she hadn’t really thought through what had happened.
“Have you talked to Rafe?” she asked.
He took a big bite of bread and looked up at her as he chewed. “He sent me the surveillance videos they got. He said they weren’t much help.”
Sophie’s mind replayed that frightening moment when the car had spun and she’d spotted the gun. “I’ll have to look at it.”
He reached a long arm across to the kitchen counter and retrieved a flat box. “Well, here it is.”
“Oh, no. I’ll just see it back at the shop. There’s no need—”
He wrapped a slice of bread around some roast beef. “I’ve got to watch them tonight anyway. And Rosita has a TV with a built-in DVD/VCR there on the counter.”
He made quick work of the packaging and took out the high-quality VHS tape. “He’s got a note here. This is the only one that shows any action, he says. Damn it, I told him to send them all.”
Rising, he turned on the TV that sat on the counter and slid the tape into it.
“Rafe is good at his job.” Sophie took a drink of wine and nibbled a bit of bread as she waited for him to fast-forward through to where the action started.
He sniffed as he sat back down. “I can see that, but he’s a little territorial.”
She smiled. “I know. He’s always complaining about having to protect all us women.”
Sean cut her a look. “Rachel Brennan has a large security staff for a wedding-planning business.”
Sophie took a drink of wine to give herself time to answer. Rachel had instructed each of the Confidential team on ways to explain any oddities, but right now, with Sean’s teal blue eyes on her, she couldn’t think of one of them.
“There you are. I told you not to look around.”
She looked up and watched herself surreptitiously glancing up the drive as she set down the bag of cash. She bit back a retort. Her CIA training was too in-grained, as was her personal protective instinct. She never went anywhere without being aware of all sides.
He and she sat without talking as the rest of the incident played out.
On the screen, as Sophie started back toward the Weddings Your Way offices, the roar of an engine could be heard getting louder. The car’s passenger side slid into view from the edge of the screen.
She threw herself down.
Then from the direction of the house, she saw a lean agile figure leap over a row of bushes and sprint toward her.
Sean. Risking his life to protect her.
A pop sounded. Sean dove on top of her and wrapped one arm around her head as he jerked his weapon from his holster with the other. Then a second pop knocked up a puff of dust just behind her head.
She gasped.
Sean paused the tape at the instant the dust rose. “Are you okay?”
“That shot was closer than I realized.”
“More excitement than you’d hoped for?” he said dryly.
She shook her head, too shaken to even be irritated by his repeated references to her remarks about excitement and danger.
She frowned, gauging the angle of the bullet. “It almost hit your shoulder.”
“It would have killed you if you hadn’t rolled.”
He sounded angry.
She met his gaze, her mouth dry, but his expression didn’t match his voice. He looked bemused.
Then he broke eye contact and restarted the tape. Immediately, three more rifle shots sounded in quick succession.
“Rafe’s men,” he muttered. “At least one shot hit the car. Did you hear it?”
Sophie nodded, leaning forward. The car spun again, and she saw a pair of arms holding the high-powered rifle that had shot at them.
With a squeal of tires, the car peeled off, spattering Sean with gravel.
Sophie watched the screen in fascination. She was sprawled on the ground with Sean’s body pressed on top of her.
As she watched, he lifted his head and brushed her hair back from her face. He said something. She nodded, and he rose carefully to his haunches, glanced around quickly, then held out his hand to her.
Funny, she didn’t even remember what he’d said, but watching herself, she grimaced.
Her face on the screen beamed with hero worship. Sean had protected her. He’d thrown himself between her and danger. Nothing like that had every happened to her before.
“Well,” she said, her voice slightly shrill, “nothing much more than we already knew.”
Sean froze the image of himself gently helping her up as she stared wide-eyed into his face. “Montoya said he’d have the shell casings analyzed, see if they can be traced.”
“Right. We’ll do that.”
Sean glanced at her as he stuffed the last bite of bread in his mouth and chased it with wine.
“You handled yourself pretty well out there, for a wedding invitation designer.”
She went still. “I used to live in New York. I took some courses.”
“Damn good ones, I’d say.” He studied her for a moment, then reached over and touched her temple with his thumb.
Her gut reaction was to flinch away, but for some odd reason she didn’t.
“You’ve got a bruise on your temple, right here.”
His thumb was warm and gentle against the tender skin. “I guess my duck and roll wasn’t as good as it should have been.”
“No. It was good.”
After a few seconds, Sophie blinked to break the spell his blue eyes were casting over her.
“So did Rafe say anything else?” she said brightly, standing and picking up her dishes. “Did they find any rifle casings? Any tire tread to analyze?”
“Good questions.”
She heard the curiosity and suspicion in his voice again. Sean Majors was not going to be fooled long by the flimsy cover of Weddings Your Way. He was too sharp. T
oo observant.
She had the feeling he wouldn’t long be fooled by her flimsy cover, either, if she stayed around him. She needed to keep her distance.
As she put her bowl and glass into the sink, she sensed his warm body behind her. He reached around and placed his dishes on top of hers.
“What did you tell Rosita?” His voice in her ear was low and gruff. The words were ominous.
She stiffened and turned around, brushing his chest with her shoulder. “What? What do you mean?”
“About us. About why I brought you here?”
“About us?” She shook her head, bewildered by his question. “N-nothing.”
He was so serious, so intense—and so close. She’d gotten herself into a situation she’d sworn she’d never be in again. She needed to get away.
Taking a step backward, she ran into the corner of the refrigerator and lost her balance.
His hands on her arms steadied her.
“I don’t understand,” she said desperately. “What do you think I did?” Then it dawned on her.
The bimbo who got off on danger.
She lifted her chin. “I did not tell her anything. In fact, I told her the only reason I was here was because you needed to see your daughter. That you’d have preferred not to have me in your apartment at all.”
Chapter Five
Sophie saw in Sean’s face that she’d surprised him. His eyes changed, turned stormy. He let her go and ran his fingers down the sides of his mouth. “I’d have preferred not to have you here. You told her that.”
“It’s true.”
Sean blinked. “Yes. It was.” He heard himself say was, not is. She was right. He hadn’t wanted to bring her into his private world, his haven, where he was the daddy and his daughter loved him and he loved her in a way he’d never dreamed was possible.
He wondered what she’d think if she knew she was the only woman other than Rosita who’d been in his apartment since his divorce.
“I have to go,” Sophie said, sliding away from him.
