She shakes her head. “They’d both caught the subway home hours earlier. Normally, I’m not this paranoid but—”
I’m in motion even before she finishes saying the words. “Stay here.”
Freeing the snap on my gun’s holster in automatic reflex, I step outside to inspect the double-bolted steel door and look for any evidence that someone had beenthere before I arrived. I see nothing to give me pause, other than the cramped parking area that’s too damn dark by half.
My Lexus and Evelyn’s Volvo are the only vehicles there. An old floodlight mounted to the side of the building throws a thin wash of illumination onto the pavement. And outside the door to the shop, nothing but gloom and shadows. Plenty of cover for anyone to try to get in—or to wait for someone to come out alone into the dark.
I come back inside on a curse.
Evelyn stares at me. “Should I be afraid?”
“No. Not while I’m here.” And I mean it. She’s not part of my job, but I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to protect her with my life.
Our gazes hold for a moment, long enough for me to realize she’s even prettier than I recall from the first time I saw her. Pretty? Fuck. She’s heart-stoppingly gorgeous. Now that I’m looking at her, I’ll be damned if I can stop. My fingers itch to touch her creamy, light-brown skin and the thick, espresso waves that frame the delicate oval of her face. Her eyes are mesmerizing, a green so pale it’s nearly blue, her gaze sharp and intelligent, yet soft beneath the deep black fringe of her lashes.
I mentally kick myself now that I know who she is. Or, rather, as Beck noted, who she once was. The sleek, glamorous supermodel who’d been making headlines while I was camped out in the armpit of Afghanistan, dust-caked and stinking, hunting for bad guys and trying not to lose life or limb—or my soul—in the process.
Our lives couldn’t have been more different. Worlds apart, then and now.
“You need better lighting and surveillance cameras in three key locations out there,” I tell her, my tone clipped because I’ve already counted about a dozen substantial security weaknesses in and around the boutique. And I’ve only been here five minutes. “I’ll write up a full security plan and get the ball rolling on new equipment for you first thing tomorrow.”
She doesn’t seem pleased with my plan. “This is an upscale boutique. The last thing I want is for it to look like a military base.”
“Duly noted,” I reply, glancing away from her, unsurprised that this is yet another conversation where she and I are going to clash. I also have to wonder if the military dig was coincidental or something else. When our eyes meet again, hers are lit with challenge. “I respect where you’re coming from on this, Evelyn. But Dominic Baine and your brother have put me in charge of ensuring the security of this building and all the other properties Nick owns. The last thingIwant is to let them down.”
“Always the dutiful Boy Scout, are you?”
I feel my brow furrow as I fold my arms over my chest. “The what?”
She shrugs. I’d be tempted to write her off as a gorgeous, stuck-up bitch if I didn’t catch the little smile playing at the edge of her amazing mouth. “I heard all about you from Andrew yesterday,” she says. “The impressive military career. Your stellar marks at Baine International. My brother and Nick obviously think very highly of you.”
What else did they tell her? I wonder if she knows about my leg or the two-plus years of recovery that followed. Every inch of her is perfection. I’m scar-riddled and disfigured. Then again, none of that should matter since I’m only here in a professional capacity. A prosthetic calf and foot on my left leg won’t prevent me from doing my job. Never has. It’s never prevented me from making love to a woman, either.
I clear my throat. “After our introduction in the garage, I don’t suppose I have to ask what you think about me.”
She tilts her head, humor dancing in her eyes. “Was I that transparent?”
I chuckle, but it’s only an attempt to cover for the sudden, heated jolt of lust that rockets through every cell in my body as I stand in the path of Evelyn Beckham’s knockout smile. “I didn’t think I’d have a job to come back to this morning, if you want to know the truth.”
“Really?” Now she seems truly amused. “So, if you thought I could get you fired, why did you keep trying to piss me off?”
I shrug, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “I don’t know. Maybe I like to live dangerously.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes.” Which has never been more obvious to me, given the current direction of my thoughts when it comes to this woman who is completely, dangerously, off-limits. “Then again, maybe I just have a bad habit of getting off on the wrong foot.”
She laughs. It’s sultry, like her voice. Hearing her laugh makes me wonder what she sounds like at other times when she’s having fun, when those hackles of hers aren’t raised and ready for a fight. What does she sound like when she’s relaxed, when she’s experiencing pleasure?
What does she sound like when she comes?
Fuck.Definitely not the direction I can let my thoughts go.
I clear my throat and gesture over my shoulder with my thumb. “I’ll go take a look at the front of the shop.”
I pass several spacious dressing rooms on the way, each one outfitted in muted colors and soft furnishings. Evelyn follows me in silence out to the front sales room, turning on soft recessed lights and a glittering crystal chandelier that hangs from the center of the elegant boutique.
Instead of inserting some much-needed space between my boss’s stunning sister and my unprofessional reaction toward her, I find myself in the middle of a room filled with things designed for seduction. Lacy lingerie drips from silk-wrapped hangers everywhere I look. Here and there, faceless, artfully posed mannequins show off sexy, skimpy bras and corsets tied up with satin ribbons and festooned with beads or pearls or tiny flowers. There are even a few black leather options that offer an interesting contrast to the rest of the frothy confections.
