A Steamy Bodyguard Romance Anthology

by Joanne Rock

  Her smile was so full, so unreserved, she damn near knocked him out with the dazzle of it.

  “What about now?” She played with her bra strap, flicking the nylon on and off one shoulder while she waited for his reply.

  “I want you all over me right now.” He gripped her hips to his for emphasis.

  Hell, if he was honest, he gripped her hips just for the pleasure of it.

  “Then why don’t you let me savor just one tiny compromise?”

  He knew whatever it was would probably torment him beyond reason, but then he only had himself to blame.

  “Yes, but I might need to ask for the time limit tonight.” If she wanted to put off the inevitable, he’d appreciate knowing that eventually he could have her completely at his mercy.

  “Fair enough.” She stroked her hand over his fly. “I get to taste you tonight, but only for a reasonable length of time.”

  His erection strained the seams at the thought of her lips wrapped around him, that perfect Cupid’s bow leaving a bright red lipstick print on his shaft. Yeah, he could definitely agree to this. Besides, he had an idea how he could stave off completion. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be fun trying.

  SHE SHOULDN’T BE so attracted to a man this sure of himself, this unyielding, this unwilling to meet her halfway.

  But oh my God, she was attracted.

  Her knees wobbled with want as she unfastened the buttons of Sean’s shirt and undid his belt. Her progress was slowed by his hands foraging into her bra, into her panties, anywhere she let him before she remembered her mission.

  Her whole body tingled by the time she succeeded in undressing him, and she realized that her clothes were gone too, all except for the blue mesh thong that scarcely covered anything anyhow.

  She also realized with some surprise that they had ended up in the bedroom of his small suite situated right next door to hers. She didn’t need a bed for what she wanted to do with him, but she didn’t mind when he drew her into the turned-down sheets on top of him.

  Knees between his legs, she twirled her tongue around the tip of him, savoring the hot silkiness of his skin in contrast to the rock-hard feel of his erection. She wrapped her hand around the base of him, steadying him for slow entry into her mouth.

  Delicious. She shivered in response to his low growl of response and she savored the knowledge that she could elicit an animal response from him. The imitation of the sex act sent a pulse of hunger between her legs, her thong damp with need. He touched her there and she whimpered in response, her knees moving to straddle his leg for better access.

  The world receded to nothing but steam heat and sensation, her mouth working over him in slick repetition as he touched her and teased her and broke the fragile string of her panties so that he might touch all of her.

  The room was pitch-dark, sensations narrowed to touches and tastes, her tongue stroking him as he slowly turned her whole body around. Her mouth never left him as he parted her thighs to taste her, too.

  Exquisite pleasure pierced her along with his tongue, the slick heat of his mouth on her too much to bear. An orgasm ripped through her in one harsh spasm after another, her senses flying apart in a thousand pieces as light flashed before her eyes. She slumped to one side of him on the bed and she thought perhaps she fainted for a moment because the next thing she knew, Sean had already sheathed himself in a condom and was straddling her body still shaking with little aftershocks.

  And then he pushed his way inside her and all the pleasure before then felt like nothing compared to the hard heat of him between her thighs. She tilted her hips to accommodate him, gladly accepting every inch of him inside her.

  He stretched her hands over her head, pinning them there in a subtle message of domination that would have freaked her out a week ago. Now, she gave herself up to him gladly, delighting in the way they could switch who had the upper hand at different times.

  This was what sex should be like.

  And, for those couples who cared enough to try, she knew that in a committed relationship, that was what love would be like. Not that she had any intention of finding out while her past still haunted her all too literally.

  But as she reached her second climax just before Sean shouted his release, she couldn’t help but dream.

  * * *

  SEAN COULDN’T STIFLE the small sense of triumph he experienced at seeing Donata fall asleep in his arms.

  In his bed.

  Would she be aggravated with herself—with him—when she awoke to realize how easily she’d drifted into slumber beside him with the scent of roses and champagne in the air? Maybe. But perhaps tonight would force her to see she was swimming against the tide by trying to deny the inevitable. They might not see eye-to-eye and they might piss each other off on a regular basis, but bottom line they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. There was something deeply compelling about the chemistry between them and he didn’t see any point in fighting it until it ran its course.

  What happened after that…he didn’t want to go there. Not now, while her hair spilled over his arm in a silky wave, her soft exhalations warming his shoulder as she turned toward him in her sleep. She looked so sweetly peaceful with her lashes fanned out across her cheeks. And young. One tended to forget her youth when she was awake and barreling through life with guns drawn.

  He smoothed a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek, stroking it back into position with the rest. He was just bending down to kiss her when he heard a noise on the other side of the floral-covered wall.

  A small thump.

  He stilled, knowing the room on that side of his suite belonged to Donata. The bed-and-breakfast was an antiquated Victorian with sprawling wings and strangely shaped rooms, so perhaps there could be a crawl space between them.

  Instinct told him otherwise.

  Easing out of bed, he slid into his jeans and buttoned them on the way to the sitting area where his computer rested on a coffee table. He’d been rewinding through the webcam feed on one screen, so he opened a new window to view the feed live.

  Nothing.

  Not one to ignore his instincts despite what technology said, he grabbed his gun and the room key Donata had laid near her purse earlier. Stealing out into the hallway, he took two steps before running into a young woman coming around the corner, her arms laden with a heavy silver tray and a steaming teapot. She gave a start upon seeing him—or maybe she was just startled to see the gun—and Sean had to steady the tray to keep it from spilling.

  “Sorry,” he offered automatically, grinning amiably to offset the surprise. “I heard something in my friend’s room next door and I knew she was in here with me.” He gestured toward his suite while the woman in her late teens or early twenties—the innkeeper’s daughter, maybe?—blatantly stared at his bare chest.

  He flexed his pecs for good measure as he reestablished the tray in her arms.

  “Oh yes. I see.” She blushed and nodded awkwardly, clearly flustered. “My mother said Ms. Casale had been working late and thought she might like some tea before bed.”

  “That’s very nice. I’ll bet she’d like that.” He took the tray back and wondered if it had really been his pecs that had caused the nervous blushing or if she might be hiding something.

  “Okay. Thank you.” She backed up a step, her running shoes quiet on the thick area rugs that covered the hardwood floors.

  “Did you hear anything inside Ms. Casale’s room just now?”

  “Me?” She shook her head, her long dark ponytail swishing in denial. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  The young woman bounded down the stairs before he could ask her anything else, and he stalked back to his suite with the tray in one hand, weapon in the other.

  “Is everything okay?” Donata’s voice greeted him as she swung open the door, her eyes wide, her service revolver in her hand. She wore his dress shirt but hadn’t bothered to find a pair of pants so her long legs were exposed from midthigh.


  “Everything is better than okay.” He let his gaze linger on her legs. “I was just out slaving over a hot stove for you.”

  “Um, thank you.” She set down her gun and followed him into the sitting area where two floral chintz love seats sat facing one another with his laptop on the table in between. “Although the last I checked, making tea didn’t require much slaving over a stove. Especially when the water has been heated and hand-delivered by a cute girl.”

  “Busted.” He watched her pour a cup for herself, the steam wafting up around her face in a thin tendril.

  “My room is undisturbed?”

  “I’ll check the feed again, but I think it’s all clear. I just heard something on the other side of the wall and when I went out there, I spotted her with a tray.”

  “But?” She peered at him quizzically, as if she’d guessed there was more to the story.

  “But I thought I heard a noise from inside the room and I’m not sure why the maid—or whoever she was—seemed so nervous.”

  “A strange, half-naked man surprised her in the hallway with a drawn gun? I can tell you why she was so nervous.” She sipped her tea on the love seat beside him as he reviewed the last half hour of the feed. “Why? Do you think someone could have paid her to plant a webcam?”

  “It pays to be suspicious, as you know well.”

  “Could anyone ever rig the feed on those cameras of yours?” Donata passed him the cup of tea in offering.

  Sean stilled.

  Holy shit.

  He flew off the small couch, half knocking over his laptop as he reached for her room key and bolted out the door.

  * * *

  THE WHOLE SETUP HAD been tampered with. New webcams had been installed on the laptop Donata had left as bait and now fed a bogus loop that showed the room completely undisturbed. In addition, the hidden computer and webcams they’d placed in the closet to keep watch over the room had been redirected with the same misinformation technology.

  “Whoever this bastard is, he’s damn good with this equipment.” Sean’s movements were brittle as he hauled the small computer out of the closet wearing latex gloves so as not to stir fingerprints they both knew wouldn’t be there.

  Still, they weren’t taking any more chances with whoever was tracking Donata.

  “But everything is disconnected now?” The idea of hidden cameras watching her every move made her twitchy and nervous.

  “Everything’s down.” His clipped words told her he blamed himself. “Our feed looked clean because whoever broke into the room reprogrammed the video stream to continually play the same image of the empty room instead of actually recording what was going on. I should have been suspicious when I scanned though the footage earlier and never saw a maid come in. I should have known it’d been sabotaged.”

  “You couldn’t have known.” She’d already touched base with Mick and discovered Terrance Russell’s fingerprints didn’t match the one they’d found on the other computer equipment found in her Manhattan apartment.

  Their leads were turning up one dead end after another. They were holding T.J. on suspicion on a variety of sexual misdemeanors until they could convince his ex-girlfriend, Sara, to come in and make a statement.

  “I could have called in for more tech support on this case, and that’s what I’m doing next because I don’t think like the geek squad.” He had his hidden computer stripped down to bare essentials and seem to be firing off e-mails as he spoke.

  Sending out an SOS to his computer guy?

  At least he had a plan. Donata didn’t have a clue how to catch the phantom stalker, the video-obsessed watcher who lurked in the shadows of her life, unless she did what she’d been dreading for days. And that option scared her spitless.

  Mick hadn’t come up with any better ideas, telling her they should touch base later while they thought about their next move, but Donata couldn’t decide if he was distracted by his own problems, or if he was playing mentor to her by prodding her to figure out the next step on her own.

  Scratch that. Mick was too good of a cop to let his home life interfere with their case. So that meant he was just waiting for Donata to admit there was only one other logical path she should be following.

  “So we’re going to admit defeat and wait for someone else to follow an electronic trail?” What happened to the days when a good cop smoked out the bad guys on wits and cunning?

  God she wished she could put off the inevitable.

  “Do you have a better suggestion?” The black look Sean gave her wasn’t exactly encouraging.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. “I think the time has come that we pay a visit to an old friend of mine.”

  His scowl faded as one eyebrow rose. Clearly, he’d been as content as her to delay this particular meeting.

  “Jesus, Donata.” He let out a gusty breath. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

  No.

  She didn’t want to do that. But she’d do her job no matter what the personal costs might be.

  “If my past has a connection to the illegal videos, I think it’s worth facing a few old ghosts to put an end to it once and for all.”

  CHAPTER 12

  RAY BROOK FEDERAL Correction Institution was about a six-hour drive from the city. Sean and Mick had both volunteered to make the trip with her, but she knew Mick had been enduring the week from hell with his daughter sneaking around and his ex-wife threatening to take Katie back to Europe.

  As for Sean…She’d declined his company because she wasn’t sure she wanted any witnesses if she fell apart after seeing Sergio. Not that she had any warmhearted feelings left for the man who’d lied to her more ways than she could count. She just worried that seeing him would chink away—okay, sledgehammer away—at the self-esteem she’d busted her hump to build. And she’d rather Sean continue to see her through the lens of her police work than as the poor sap teenager who’d let a gangster play savior for her.

  Therefore, she’d navigated her way through the Adirondack Mountains on her own, sliding off the road once on a hairy turn in Lake Placid and then winding her way over Route 86 to Ray Brook, a medium security lockup for male offenders.

  Now, as she stood unmoving for the metal detector hand wand as part of visitor in-processing, Donata told herself she wasn’t immature enough to rejoice over the depressingly austere setting of her ex’s current home despite the idyllic mountain setting outside the gray walls. Still, she couldn’t deny feeling relieved to see how securely locked away he’d been for the last four years.

  Not that she’d ever thought doing time in a federal pen was a picnic, but every now and then she saw those shows on TV suggesting wealthy criminals could buy their way into cushy facilities. If that was true in some cases, it sure as hell hadn’t happened for Sergio Alteri, judging by the stern expressions of the prison guards outside the visiting room.

  She would have received a slightly warmer reception if she’d admitted to being a cop, but since this wasn’t an official inquiry, she hadn’t wanted to wait around for court approval to see him. Besides, Sergio would definitely snub her completely if she showed up in an official capacity. This way—taking him up on his long-ago offer for a visit—she might be able to learn something useful. Of course, first she’d have to listen to him rant and whine about all the ways she’d screwed him over by turning evidence against him. That was the only reason he’d added her to his visitor list after arriving here. But maybe after that she would be able to find out who had access to his old photographs or who he might have entrusted to make her life hell.

  She stood behind a woman with a baby in one arm and a toddler in the other as she waited in line to have her hand imprinted with a black-light stamp, the last step in the process to enter the visiting room. Donata wondered how the lady in front of her managed raising two kids with her significant other in jail. As it was, the overwhelmed mama could barely convince the guards to let her bring baby supplies into the visiting area, sin
ce apparently the number of diapers allowed was regulated.

  Finally, she was admitted to the room that looked sort of like a high school cafeteria. Institutional tables were scattered around an open space with two guards to oversee the visitors. There were no telephones and bulletproof glass the way they liked to show in the movies. Just a small assortment of visitors and inmates in white T-shirts, trousers, belts and prison issue shoes.

  None of the prisoners were Sergio, but then she’d read that the visitors were usually escorted into the room before the inmate they wanted to see. Donata chose a table in the corner, far away from the other groups scattered around the room, and waited.

  A minute later, Sergio strutted in.

  He didn’t see her at first, his gaze sweeping the room. She noted he wasn’t as big as she remembered. Prison food had made him thinner, his skin hanging a little looser on his tall frame.

  But then, he probably seemed bigger in her dreams because—good or bad—he’d been an integral part of her life and he loomed large on the horizon of her memories. His hair was neatly combed, short and dark with more gray at the temples than she remembered. He had to be nearing fifty. He wasn’t wearing his glasses today, but then he didn’t actually need them. The wire-rimmed lenses she remembered had been more for show and they had worked like a charm on her as a teenager. She’d looked up into his bespectacled face and pegged him as a smart guy. A reader.

  Only later did she find out he’d never even read a whole newspaper, let alone a book.

  He spotted her then and his placid expression changed. She’d been expecting anger and resentment but she could swear he looked almost pleased as he strolled past a couple of families toward her table.

  “Hey, babe. You couldn’t stay away, could you?” He swooped down to kiss her on the mouth under the guards’ watchful eyes.

  The kiss was too quick and unexpected to shove him away. Not that she really could have since starting a fight with Sergio might mean she’d be asked to leave.