Tempting the Bodyguard

She wanted to feign innocence at the question, but she knew better. So did Chandler. His accusations made her uncomfortable in ways he probably couldn’t even fathom. “Look, I need to hire someone who can be discreet and—”

  “I can’t,” he interrupted.

  “What?” Surprise shuttled through her. “Why not?”

  Chandler’s lashes lowered, shielding his eyes. “Several reasons, but mainly, there’s a rule that all my employees operate by, as do I.”

  “Which is?”

  “Under no circumstances do any of my employees or I take a job that has a conflict of interest.”

  Confused, she held the folder closer to her chest. “Is your brother a conflict of interest?”

  He shook his head, and a moment passed before he answered. “No. We don’t protect anyone we want to fuck.”

  Chapter Three

  The moment those words came out of his mouth, Chandler knew he meant them. Maybe when they’d first formed on his tongue, he was saying them just to mess with her, but there was something about Miss Gore that brought out a teasing side of him. She’d gotten under his skin from the first moment he’d met her.

  Alana opened and closed her mouth a couple of times, drawing his attention to that interesting part of her face. Her lips were devoid of any makeup, not even a faint trace of faded lipstick, but they were fuller than he remembered, and he bet they’d be soft if they weren’t always in such a tense, tight line.

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” she said, her voice unsurprisingly level.

  He wondered if anything truly got to the woman. “I’m not going to pretend.”

  “This… That was… That is so inappropriate that I don’t even know where to begin.” She reached up, taking off her glasses. For the briefest second, he saw her face for the first time without them before she placed them back on.

  Her eyes were dark, nearly black, but they were less cold without the glass barrier between them and the world. The skin around her eyes was free from wrinkles, and her lashes were thick, incredibly long. He leaned back, his gaze searching her face. She scrunched her nose and still, her skin barely crinkled. With the slight pink flush staining her cheeks, she looked youthful—younger than he ever imagined. His eyes narrowed.

  “How old are you?” he asked, suddenly realizing that she couldn’t be as old as he originally believed.

  “What?” She pinched the bridge of her nose, squeezing her eyes shut.

  He cocked his head to the side, brows lowering. “How old are you?”

  “How old are you?” she shot back.

  “I’m thirty-three. Answer my damn question.”

  “You’re giving me a headache.” She slid her glasses back on. “My age has nothing to do with why I’m here.” She paused and then added under her breath, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

  Annoyed, because he was used to people doing what he wanted, he folded his arms. “Why won’t you just answer the question?”

  “Why would I? You don’t want to work for me. Do you need to make sure I’m of legal age for a good fucking? Because I can tell you two things you can take to the bank.” Her free hand formed a little fist. “I’m definitely of legal age, and your dick isn’t coming within spitting distance of any part of my body.”

  A smile tugged at his lips. “What an incredible mouth you have on you.”

  She stared at him for a good half a minute and then exploded like a bottle rocket. “For fuck’s sake, talking to you is impossible! Fucking forget I even came here, because this was the most pointless trip I’ve ever made in the history of fucking forever!”

  He blinked, surprised by her outburst. And turned on—completely, 100 percent rocking a raging hard-on. There was definitely something wrong with that, but he wasn’t surprised. He liked his women mouthy.

  And this one was a volcano.

  The volcano was also leaving.

  Alana yanked at the door and nearly threw herself off balance. Paula must’ve locked it on her way out, something they should’ve thought about earlier, but then again, Chandler couldn’t find it in himself to regret Alana’s interruption.

  Cursing up a storm under her breath, she unlocked the door and tore it open. Within seconds, she’d disappeared into the shadowy hall outside the private room.

  Chandler started after her but stopped.

  “Shit,” he muttered, thrusting his fingers through his hair.

  He needed to let her go. What he knew about her, which wasn’t much but definitely enough, was that the woman would be nothing but trouble. That was the last thing he needed in his life right now. It didn’t matter that her appearance had his cock waking from its majorly inconvenient slumber. And the most messed-up thing was that he was still hard.

  Damn, she had smelled good. The scent of a flower that reminded him of spring, but he couldn’t place what it was.

  And now he was thinking about how she smelled. Fuuuucck.

  Letting her go back to wherever she came from was the smartest thing he could do. For that matter, what the hell was she still doing in this city? Her assignment as his brother’s publicist had ended in January and from what he’d gathered from Chad, she lived in California. So why was she still here?

  Did it even matter?

  Chandler told himself that it didn’t, but—and there always seemed to be a but—what if she was in trouble? And he’d just told her he’d rather fuck her than protect her? He didn’t feel bad about saying that, but Jesus, he hadn’t even looked at those letters.

  He bit out a ripe curse. Letters were not serious. The kind of shit he saw and dealt with on a regular basis made threatening letters something a child would do. Not to mention the fact that Alana had to have a list as long as his leg when it came to enemies who wanted to scare her.

  Of course, none of this made him any less of a jackass right now.

  Dropping his hand, he shook his head. Receiving threatening letters didn’t warrant a personal security detail in any situation. He hadn’t been kidding around when he’d told her they protected people being threatened by very dangerous individuals, but a twinge of guilt still churned in his stomach. He hadn’t taken her seriously, hadn’t even listened to her story.

  “Shit,” he said again.

  …

  The back of Alana’s throat burned as she made her way across the crowded club floor. Even if she wasn’t speed walking, she’d stand out among the patrons of Leather and Lace. Her prim black suit was an eyesore among the shimmery tops, skintight jeans, and pretty dresses.

  So plain. So boring.

  Normally, that wouldn’t bother her, but tonight, she felt like all her emotions were on the outside, coating her skin instead of being neatly tucked away.

  A hand grabbed for her as she rounded a cluster of small tables. She shot a warning look at the offender, a young male with kohl-lined eyes. He simply laughed and threw an arm over the shoulders of a petite redhead.

  To Alana, the air in the club was suffocating—hot and heavy with the scent of perfume, cologne, and liquor. She barreled out the front door, gasping in the cool night air as it washed over her flushed skin.

  Stupid—she had been so incredibly stupid coming here, thinking that Chandler would actually agree to help her. His crude statement of wanting to have sex with her was most likely nothing more than an attempt to get a rise out of her.

  He’d succeeded.

  Even though things had worked out splendidly for Chad and Bridget, she had blackmailed them. It was doubtful that any of Chad’s brothers or friends would feel warm and fuzzy when it came to her.

  But she’d just been doing her job. That’s what she kept telling herself as she hurried down the sidewalk, passing the graffiti-sprayed exteriors of the old warehouses.

  What was she going to do now?

  I’ll be seeing you tonight.

  Her practical mind clicked over, taking control. She was on her own, something she’d grown accustomed to in her twenty-six years. You coul
d really only count on yourself—trite but true. So she’d need to find out who was responsible for stalking her clear across the country, and she also needed a gun. Then she needed to know how to use one, because she honestly had no idea how to even take off the safety and—

  Rounding the street corner, she winced as she realized that two of the overhead streetlamps were now out and the packed parking lot was nothing more than hulking, looming shadows and a cesspool of potential assault and battery.

  Great. Getting stabbed and robbed would be the icing on the fucked-up cake and make her night.

  Digging the car keys out of her pocket, she threaded them between her fingers and kept her eyes peeled for any suspicious movement. She picked up her pace, focusing on the third line of cars where she’d left hers.

  The parking lot nearest to Leather and Lace was like a used luxury-car lot. She passed Audis, Volvos, BMWs, and a whole fleet of foreign vehicles. Alana was willing to bet her relatively flat ass that half the city’s power players were members of the club.

  She wanted to be all kinds of judging, but she was the type of person to call a spade a spade. How could she judge them when she had been inside that room with Chandler, picturing herself on the longue?

  Unwanted heat unfurled low in her belly, and she swore softly as she cut between a Mercedes and an Infiniti SUV. She would not think about Chandler. She would not give that son of a bitch one more ounce of her—

  Alana stopped a few feet before her Lexus, her breath expelling harshly. It was so dark here she couldn’t be sure what she was seeing. Bending at the waist, she blinked once, thinking that her eyes were playing tricks on her, but when her vision centered on the front of her car, she cried out in disbelief.

  The windshield had been smashed in.

  Jagged edges of glass remained, but the whole center was gone—completely gone. Wicked sharp pieces of glass lay on the dashboard.

  Her breaths came out in short pants as she reached down and opened the driver’s door. Glass was everywhere—on the seats, the floorboards. She started to reach in but stopped herself. Lying on the passenger seat was a brick. There appeared to be a paper wrapped around it, secured with a rubber band.

  For a moment, Alana was absolutely frozen. She didn’t move. Her breath stilled in her throat. All she could do was stare at that brick, and the only thing that moved was her heart. It thumped heavily in her chest, sending adrenaline coursing through her veins.

  Her gaze crawled over the interior and then widened when she saw the ignition. The whole lower part of the steering wheel had been torn open, wires exposed and dangling like little red and blue snakes.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered, slowly shaking her head. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

  Anger poured into her chest, causing her hand to tighten around the keys until the metal dug into flesh. Someone had done this to her car—her property. No way in hell did she believe this was coincidental. It had to be the asshole behind the letters, and…

  Icy fear snapped at the heels of her fury. Her breath came out in a ragged exhale. The person who had done this could still be here, waiting and watching. Oh my God. Her heart jumped in her chest painfully. Backing away from her car door, she scanned the darkness ahead of her.

  She swallowed, but the knot of fear made it difficult. She was out here, alone, and if someone wanted—

  A heavy hand landed on her shoulder.

  Shrieking, she spun around, dropping the folder and throwing out her hand that held the key-shank she’d created.

  “Jesus H. Christ, woman!” a deep voice exploded as a hand clamped down on her wrist.

  Part of her brain recognized the voice, but the adrenaline and fear had kicked in her fight response and once that had been unleashed, it was taking her brain precious seconds to catch up to how her body was reacting.

  She tried to pull her arm free as she raised her knee, aiming for any body part she could do damage on. Hopefully the gonads.

  Except she never connected with any flesh.

  A second later, her back was against the SUV parked beside her car and a broad, firm body was pressed against hers. Thick, muscled legs made it impossible for her to kick. Both her wrists were captured in a secure hold, pinned near her shoulders in record time. The keys hit the ground somewhere down by her feet.

  Good God, she had been incapacitated that quickly.

  It would’ve been rather impressive if she wasn’t seconds away from having a full-blown heart attack.

  “Are you done?” he asked, his voice carrying a hard edge. “You could’ve taken my eye out.”

  As her heart rate slowed down, her brain finally started to work again. Lifting her head, she found herself face-to-face with Chandler once more. Not just face-to-face, but mostly body-to-body.

  “Sorry,” she croaked out hoarsely and then wondered why in the hell she was apologizing. “You scared me! You snuck up on me.”

  “Snuck up on you?” A muscle ticked in his jaw, visible even in the poor lighting. “I wasn’t sneaking. I’m not part ninja.”

  Considering she hadn’t heard him, she begged to differ on that statement. And the man had the reflexes of a jungle cat. “Part ninja or not, it’s nighttime and you put your hand on me in the middle of a dark parking lot without warning. Excuse me for—”

  “Overreacting?” he suggested, dark brows lowered. “Is this how you normally respond?”

  Were they actually going to argue about this? From the look of it, the answer would be yes. Her fingers curled helplessly and she drew in a deep breath. The action brought her breasts flush with his chest, and she couldn’t stop the electrical jolt that zinged through her, nor the way her nipples hardened at the sensation.

  Oh goodness, her reaction was wholly wrong, all things considered.

  She was going to blame residual trauma from seeing her car obliterated. “Let go of me,” she said, taking another breath and immediately wishing she hadn’t. The jolt hit her again, stronger. “Now.”

  “I don’t know about that.” And just like that, Chandler’s demeanor shifted. Everything about him changed. His body relaxed in a way that said he was ready to snap into action but was solely focused on her. The lines of his face softened, and his eyes took on a hooded, lazy quality. “You might try to shank me again.”

  A whole different set of warnings went off in the back of her head as the air became rife with the kind of tension that had nothing to do with the car or the fact that she’d almost blinded him in the eye moments before. Nearly every part of their bodies that mattered was lined up. His breath was warm against her forehead, and around her wrists, his thumbs began to move in slow, idle circles. A fine shiver skated over her skin as her pulse fluttered under his fingers. Everything he did, from the way he held her against the car to how his intense stare reached in, captured, and then seared her, oozed raw, almost primitive sexuality. Never had she come across anyone who affected her on such a level. It had been that way the first time she’d met him and then again at his brother’s apartment.

  Chandler shifted his hips, and she sucked in a sharp breath. She felt him against her belly, long and hard. Heat simmered low in her stomach and then dropped lower, like it had inside the room. Except they hadn’t been touching then, and while he really wasn’t doing anything now, her body was reacting to his in a way that shocked her.

  This was so not the appropriate time for this. Even though she doubted anyone would come after her now that Chandler was here—and if anyone did, he most definitely had a death wish—but still. There were more important things to be focusing on.

  But instinct was telling her that if she tipped her head back farther, Chandler would gladly accept the unspoken invitation. It wouldn’t matter that they barely knew each other. He’d already stated quite clearly what he wanted from her, much to her disbelief. He would kiss her, and she already knew that she’d be kissed in a way she’d never experienced before.

  Her heart tripped up over the thought of his
lips moving against hers. One kiss and she’d be putty in his no-doubt-skilled hands. Alana wasn’t easy, but with this man, she’d probably throw herself onto her own back.

  His hands dropped from her wrists, landing on her hips, and as he leaned in, his nose grazed her cheek, snapping her out of her stupor. What in God’s name was she doing?

  Placing her hands against his chest—an incredibly hard chest—she pushed. “Back off, buddy.”

  He stepped away and opened his mouth, but then seemed to rethink what he was about to say. He finally checked out her car, frowning when he saw her open door. As he moved forward, she gulped in air and ignored the smidgen of disappointment.

  “What in the hell?” he said, facing her car fully. Gripping the door, he bent at the waist. “Looks like you lost a windshield.”

  She rolled her eyes. “No shit.”

  He cast a look over his shoulders that would’ve sent men running in the opposite direction. Alana made a face. “The sarcasm isn’t necessary,” he said before turning back to her car. “Man, they did a number on this baby. Looks like someone was trying to get himself a free ride.”

  She snorted. “You must be the muscle of your company and not the brains.”

  Again, he shot her another dark look, which she ignored.

  “Ten minutes ago I told you that I was receiving threatening letters. Do you really think those two things aren’t connected? Wait. Don’t bother answering, because you could give two shits about that.”

  He stared at her, his eyes nearly black in the darkness. “Miss Gore…” His voice was a low warning.

  “Because the only thing you were concerned with back in that—that club, was getting laid.”

  He made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded like a growl. “That wasn’t the only thing I was concerned about.”

  “Whatever.” She coughed out what probably sounded like a half-crazed laugh.

  Kneeling down, she swooped up her keys and started picking up the letters that had slipped out of the file. “Why are you out here anyway? Did you want to check out my ass this time around?”

  He sighed. “Actually, I was following you.”