“I called the bakery this morning to double-check the amount. Just leave the food, and I’ll deal with it all when I’m done here.”
More pissed than he had the right to be, Grant decided the first thing they were going to discuss—if she ever came out from under that damn sink—was her lack of self-preservation.
A clanging sound preceded a loud, “Damn it!”
Standing with his booted feet shoulder-width apart, he crossed his arms and waited for her to wiggle herself free.
“If there’s a problem with the check”—she grunted— “you’ll have to call your boss, because I...”
Wide, emerald eyes that had haunted his dreams for months stared up at him.
“Oh. It’s you.” Brynnon Cantrell whispered.
She remembers you.A sliver of warmth nearly penetrated the space where his heart used to be.
Blinking, the startled woman climbed awkwardly to her feet. She was taller than the average woman, but with his six-five frame, her eyes still only met him at chin-level.
Brushing some wild, auburn strands from her face, she straightened her shoulders in an attempt to compose herself. The flush filling her porcelain cheeks betrayed her.
“Sorry.” She looked up at him. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Obviously.” Grant glanced over her shoulder then back to her. “You always leave the front door unlocked when you’re here by yourself?”
She blinked at his abruptness. “Um...yeah. Usually. It’s a nice neighborhood.”
“And nothing bad ever happens in those, does it?”
Perfectly groomed brows turned inward as confusion replaced her earlier embarrassment. “You work security for my dad, right?”
“Grant Hill.” He held out a hand to reintroduce himself. “And I work for R.I.S.C. Your father is a client of ours.”
“Brynnon.” She nodded, returning the gesture.
“I remember,” he admitted before he could stop himself.
They stood there, shaking hands in awkward silence before her round eyes went wide again. For a second, Grant thought it was a reaction to the same, sizzling zip of electricity he’d felt the first time they’d met.
Suddenly in a near panic, she blurted, “Oh, crap! Did something happen? Is my dad okay?
“Your father’s fine, Miss Cantrell.”
She blew out a breath. “Thank God.” Wheels spinning, the naturally beautiful woman looked back up at him questioningly. “So why are you here, Mr. Hill? I mean, other than to lecture me about unlocked doors.”
Ignoring the smart-ass comment, he let go of her hand. “Call me Grant. And it’s more about what I can do for you.”
Her bow-shaped lips parted slightly before she cleared her throat, asking, “And what is that, exactly?”
“I’m here at your father’s request.”
Disappointment flittered behind those seas of green before a look of understanding crossed her face. “You’ve been assigned to guard me.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes, ma’am. I have.”
Taking a deep breath, Brynnon put on the same forced smile he’d seen the night they met.
“Well, let me save you some time, Mr. ...err...Grant. I don’t want, nor do I need a bodyguard. I’m sorry you wasted a trip coming here.”
She has a stubborn streak.Good to know.
