Outspoken Angel

by Mia Dymond

  “No can do, Princess. I’m on duty.”

  “The security is tight here. Vince can’t get in.”

  “The answer is still no. I don’t want some guy rubbing oil all over me.”

  “I have some coconut oil at home.”

  He coughed. The thought of her hands smearing oil all over his body was enough to undo him.

  “No.”

  “Spoilsport.”

  He took a deep breath. Now that she had planted that seed in his brain, he could almost feel her dainty little hands kneading oil into his very tense, knotted muscles.

  The incessant buzz of her cell phone from the depths of her discarded clothing jerked him back to reality.

  Max glanced at Cameron, who hadn’t moved since the buzzing began. “Aren’t you going to get that?”

  She made no further effort to move. “No, I don’t answer on Spa Day.”

  He reached for the phone and stood. “Then you should have turned it off.” He flipped it open, and bent to slap it into the palm of her hand under the massage table.

  She glared at him as she raised her head and placed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  Cameron’s rosy cheeks turned ash white as the phone slid from her grasp. Max caught the phone in mid-air and pushed the speaker button before handing it back to her.

  She molded the sheet to her body before she sat up. “Vince?”

  “Hello, Cameron. Did you enjoy your massage?”

  “How do you know where I am?”

  In an effort to reassure her, Max squeezed her bare shoulder.

  Stone cackled. “I know everything. Do you really think your security alarm and that beefy idiot are going to keep me from getting to you?”

  “You’re supposed to be in prison.”

  “They let me out for good behavior.”

  “You don’t know how to behave,” she taunted. “Leave me alone.”

  Stone laughed again. “Not a chance, Baby. I will have you again.”

  “Listen, you jerk. I don’t –“

  Max pulled the phone from her grasp and snapped it closed before handing it back to her. “Leave it to you to argue with a mad man.”

  She snarled and pulled her arm back to throw the phone across the room. She hesitated a moment and then handed it back to him. He accepted her offer, impressed by her spunk.

  “We’ll change the number today. Get dressed.”

  She lifted her chin. “No, I’m not leaving until I’m done. I haven’t even exfoliated and that jerk is not going to ruin my day.”

  * * *

  He grew angrier as he paced. She hung up on him! When had Cameron gotten so brave? The more he thought about her rejection, the more he realized he would have to show her he meant business. She belonged to him and he would get her back, one way or another.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TEN

  After an amazingly quiet drive home, Max felt a little more confident that Cameron might have actually been scared into cooperation. Then he remembered exactly who he dealt with. No way would she cooperate.

  As soon as he brought her home from the spa, she claimed she had work to do and headed to the upstairs den she used as a studio. Relieved she would be occupied, he sauntered past a large picture window on his way downstairs. He glanced out at the bright sunlight and paused in mid-step as a flash of something caught his eye. He took two steps backward and looked out the window. There, in the yard next door, lay a woman sunbathing in the nude. He scrubbed a hand down his jaw. Good God, did any of the women in this neighborhood wear clothes? Granted, he hadn’t seen Cameron naked, yet, but he’d come damn close.

  He whistled low under his breath as he watched the woman below smear suntan oil all over her full, naked breasts and down each winding curve of her body. As she rubbed her hands over the tanned surface of her stomach, she created absolute chaos in his brain. Not because of her activity - she had no idea he watched - rather, because Cameron already had him so dangerously aroused.

  While he reminded himself he should step away from the window, Max felt his Adam’s apple jump when she suddenly raised her head toward the window. Did she see him? He took two steps to the side and then peered out again. With a sexy smile, the temptress gave a three-fingered wave and then resumed her earlier activity.

  Max stepped completely away from the window. He definitely needed to find out her identity. For security reasons.

  He ambled back down the hallway to the den where Cameron sat cross-legged in the floor while she sketched.

  He braced himself in the doorway. “We need to talk.”

  Her pencil never missed a stroke. “About what?”

  “What’s with the bathing beauty next door?”

  Her pencil lead snapped and broke in her grasp. Obviously, he’d hit a nerve.

  She raised her eyes and cleared her throat. “Holly’s outside?”

  He nodded.

  “How much did you see?”

  He raised both eyebrows. “She’s naked.”

  He watched, amazed by the unfamiliar look of disappointment that crossed her face. Did she think him that shallow? Little did she know, but even naked, the woman outside didn’t even tempt him. No, the fiery, now apparently jealous, pixie who gave him the third degree had the monopoly on that. Where the hell were his sunglasses?

  “Who is she?”

  “My neighbor, Holly London.”

  “What does she do besides sunbathe in the raw?”

  “She owns a fitness center.”

  “Which one?”

  “Why?”

  “I need to check it out, Fussbudget.”

  “Well, Sherlock,” she drawled, “she owns Fitness in the Buff on Arapaho.”

  Max offered a half-smile. “The one where you exercise?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Can I watch?”

  “Oh, good grief! Not that kind of buff. Buff like muscular.”

  “Doesn’t she have tanning beds?” he asked, steering himself away from his vision of Cameron naked.

  “She prefers the natural light.”

  “Is she one of your close friends?”

  She shrugged. “As close as we can be, I guess. Holly’s a little different.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Different how?”

  “It won’t make any sense if I tell you.”

  “Try me.”

  “Holly keeps to herself. She doesn’t socialize much, yet she seems to know things.”

  “Know things?”

  She nodded. “She’s very intuitive.”

  Max concentrated hard to keep a straight face. “She waved at me.”

  “Really?” He caught the change of pitch in her voice. “Well, don’t get too excited. The sun glares off that window. She probably just saw movement and thought you were me.”

  “What about your other neighbors? Do you know all of them?”

  “Everyone in this neighborhood knows each other. Since most are prominent business owners, we tend to run into the same faces quite frequently.” She gave him a squinted glare. “Do not harass my neighbors, Max.”

  “Relax, I need to stay anonymous.”

  “Impossible, King Kong.”

  He snickered, glad to see she’d gotten over her short-lived disappointment. “What about vacant houses?”

  She shook her head. “None.”

  Satisfied with her information, he turned to leave.

  “By the way,” she said from behind him, “I usually keep the shade pulled over that window.”

  He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “And?”

  “And, it squeaks on the way back up.”

  Max shook his head at her warning, dialed his cell phone, and headed downstairs. He hadn’t gotten far when she hollered from the den.

  “Max!”

  He snapped his phone closed, stopped on the second step, and turned around. What now?

  “What?”

  She stood with one curvy hip braced on the doorframe. “I need to go to
the office.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now,” she insisted. “I’m missing some sketches.”

  “Why didn’t you say something at the spa?”

  “I was too relaxed. It won’t take long, I promise.”

  “You can’t just re-draw them?”

  “No!” she said over a giggle. “Look, I’ll go alone. You stay here and guard the cat.”

  He narrowed his eyes and flashed her a gentle but firm warning. “Do not mock me, Sweet Thing. You’ve got two minutes.”

  * * *

  After Max hustled her out of his truck and into the downtown office building that housed Newberry & Tremaine, Cameron stepped onto the elevator, grateful to be free from Max’s touch for the moment. He had all but smothered her with his burly, dominating body from the minute they left the house until the elevator doors closed, giving literal meaning to the term bodyguard.

  Cameron leaned against the back wall of the elevator and took advantage of the short ride to organize her thoughts. Although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but herself, she was more than a thousand times relieved Max attached himself to her. She ignored the mocking voice inside that wondered why; she knew exactly why. Yet, she wondered if she should feel some guilt for the relief she felt. She wasn’t threatened by Vince’s antics, but having Max at her beck and call was definitely reassuring, not to mention stimulating.

  She glanced at him, his eyes once again hidden in the depths of his sunglasses and his chiseled body propped against the side wall of the elevator with his arms folded across his chest. Silently ready, willing and oh, so able. What she wouldn’t give to climb that mountain.

  Lost in her lustful analysis, Cameron felt a wave of shock slap her when she noticed the open elevator door. How long had that been open? She took a breath to compose herself and nonchalantly turned to Max, still braced in the elevator except now with a sexy smirk.

  He unfolded his arms and gestured to the door with one hand. “After you, Half Pint.”

  Thankful Max resorted to nicknames to ease the obvious sexual tension between them, Cameron left the elevator and led him down the hallway to the office. Her effort to locate keys in her tote bag stalled when Max grasped her shoulder and pulled her away from the door. She gave him a curious glance.

  “The door’s open,” he whispered.

  Puzzled by his whisper, she giggled. “So? The janitor probably forgot to close it.”

  He arched an eyebrow, a tell-tale sign that he doubted her explanation.

  “It happens,” she insisted.

  He bent to take a closer look at the door. “Not this time. The lock is broken.” He straightened and shoved her behind him. “Stay here.”

  Irked by his drill sergeant tone, she laughed to cover her annoyance. Was he serious? “No way, Rambo. I’m stuck like glue, remember? If you’re going in there, I’m going with you. I am not staying out here alone.”

  “Suit yourself, but stay behind me, and don’t touch anything.”

  She rolled her eyes. He would have to go all CSI on her.

  Max pulled a gun from the back of his pants and started forward.

  She grabbed the back of his shirt. “Put that away!”

  She could’ve sworn his eyes shot flames through his sunglasses as he turned to face her. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “If Vince is responsible for this, you don’t need a gun. He’ll roll over and play dead as soon as he sees you.”

  His face reddened and for a second, she halfway expected his head to shoot off his body. Instead, he balled his fists and turned back to the door. “We will have this conversation another time.”

  Something told her not to argue and she bit her lip as she watched him ease the door the rest of the way open with the barrel of his gun. As soon as she followed him into the office, her heart fell at the sight of the disaster zone she found.

  Blueprint confetti decorated the carpet. The furniture lay helplessly upside down with the cushions slashed mercilessly. Both hers and Rachel’s offices were trashed, the desks toppled and computers smashed. Plants screamed for the comfort of their pots. Bright red paint splotches coated the normally welcoming, pale brown walls and the framed art resembled matchsticks.

  Once Max walked through the entire office, he stuck the gun back in his waistband.

  “Well, whoever it was didn’t miss anything,” Cameron drawled.

  “I hope you backed up your computers.” He palmed his cell phone.

  “Yes. We back up every day,” she said, attempting to force the despair from her voice.

  She felt a surge of warmth invade her senses as Max tweaked a wayward curl with his free hand.

  “We’ll get this cleaned up after the police are done. It won’t take as long as you think.”

  “I need to call Rachel and let her know what’s happened. Do you think it was Vince?”

  Max nodded. “Probably. I’m hoping he was careless enough to leave evidence behind.”

  Unbridled anger snapped her out of her slump and she planted her hands on her hips. “I told you the gun was a waste of time.”

  Max stabbed buttons on his phone. “You think?”

  Before she could answer, he spoke into his phone and reported the crime to Hawke and then the police department. Cameron shook another curl out of her face and begged the fear that invaded her reasoning to go away. Guns just had an uncanny way of making the situation seem so much more serious.

  “I’m a SEAL,” he said without apology. “I’m always armed, and not just with a gun.”

  Cameron felt her eyes widen as she digested the reality of his admission. Not only was he a SEAL, he was a professional bodyguard. Licensed to kill.

  “I guess I just didn’t think about that.”

  “I don’t intend to use it.” He caressed her cheek with his fingers. “But know this, Goldilocks, I will kill for you, if I have to.”

  Max left her speechless as he greeted the first officer to arrive. Still reeling from his confession, she stood next to him and fidgeted while he provided background information, and fingerprint technicians coated every inch of the mangled carnage with powder in an attempt to uncover an identity. Her bravery began to quiver. He won’t stop until he breaks me.

  Her heart pounded and the ringing in her ears drowned any attempt at rational thought. As the room began to spin, her ankles wobbled over the sides of her Christian Dior brown leather python sandals and threatened to deposit her on the floor. Regaining control for a split second, she managed to wrap her hand around Max’s bulging biceps on the way down.

  “Whoa, Sweet Stuff.” He pushed her into one lone chair and squatted in front of her. “Panic attack?”

  “No.” Even she heard how weak her denial sounded.

  He tipped her chin with his finger. “You’re safe with me.”

  Tears leaked past her composure. “He’s so determined.”

  Against his better judgment, Max pulled Cameron into his arms and squeezed. As he inhaled, her soft, sweet scent invaded his senses and called his libido to come and play.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawke and Rachel enter the office. Hawke grabbed Rachel’s hand as she started toward Cameron.

  Cameron sniffed and unfolded herself from Max’s warm embrace. “Thank you, Max.”

  “Anytime, Sunshine.” He grinned and wiped her tears with his thumbs before he stood to compose himself.

  “Cameron!” Rachel extracted her hand from Hawke’s and waddled over. “Are you okay? Were you here?”

  Cameron stood and pushed Rachel into her chair.

  “Relax, Rachel.” She smiled. “I’m fine, and I wasn’t here when the tornado hit this place. Just look at this mess!”

  Max motioned for Hawke to follow him to the hallway.

  Hawke rubbed the back of his neck. “Max this is insane.”

  “Did you see the wall in the conference room?”

  “No, we just came through the door.”

  Max glanced
at Rachel and Cameron who were still trying to convince each other it wasn’t so bad.

  “C’mon.” He led the way to the conference room at the end of the hall.

  The table had been overturned, knocking a large hole in the wall, and the chairs lay stacked like firewood. On the front wall, in scarlet letters, the perpetrator scribbled a love-felt message.

  YOU’RE MINE, BITCH

  “Sonuvabitch, Max, Rachel cannot see this.”

  “I have no intention of letting either one of them see it.”

  “I’ll call Greg.” Hawke punched his speed dial. “Someone will come now.”

  Max nodded and waited until Hawke disconnected.

  “This guy has a screw loose,” Hawke said as Max closed the door behind them.

  “That’s why he’s so dangerous.” Max followed Hawke down the hallway.

  “Do you think the cameras got him?”

  “I’m hopeful.” Max shrugged. “There’s not much else we can do until somebody finds him. He’s a slippery bastard.”

  “Do we need Steele?”

  “Done.”

  “Then it won’t be long.” Hawke sighed as they re-entered the front office. “I won’t be able to keep Rachel away. We’ll come by later.”

  Max nodded, oddly relieved Hawke was too concerned about Rachel to question him about Cameron.

  “Come on, Sweetheart.” Hawke draped his arm around Rachel and patted her swollen stomach. “Let’s go home and you can take a nap.”

  “Excellent idea,” Rachel agreed. “You go home, too, Cameron. I’ll be by to check on you this evening.”

  Cameron playfully saluted Rachel. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Max nodded a silent agreement and watched them leave.

  “I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Max.”

  He turned back to Cameron, slightly wary of her apology. “No apology necessary. Let’s go home.”

  As she looped her arm through his, he was ironically comforted by the stranglehold she had on him.