Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Ready or not, here I come,” I mutter under my breath, throwing myself down the stairs after her. My long lunges eat the steps up in no time, and it’s only a few seconds before I spot her dainty hand holding the rail. Those ridiculous things she had on her feet are suddenly all I see in my mind’s eye. Stupid high-heeled things. She’ll break her fucking neck.
No subject has ever been injured under my watch, accidental or not. Damn her!
My pace increases, my urgency growing, and the relief when she comes into full view as I round a flight of stairs nearly suffocates me. It’s a silly reaction to a silly situation, but I’ve never had a subject try to escape me. Or a woman, for that matter. I fly past her, landing at the bottom of the staircase she’s tottering down, and swing around to face her. Fuck, I’m sweating. A few flights of stairs and I’m fucking sweating. What’s up with me?
She doesn’t get time to figure out what’s just flown past her like a raging bull. Her feet fail to stop and she collides with my chest on a yelp. My arms are around her fast, holding her to me.
I gasp, too. I don’t know why, but her slight frame compressed to my chest has sparked a bolt of heat, streaking straight down to…my cock.
Fuck!
I release her before I’m certain she’s gathered herself and take a few very cautious and wise steps back. My jaw is tense. My fucking heart is going loopy. What the fuck is that?
The ball of my palm comes up and presses into my forehead, my eyes clenching shut.
Walk away, Jake. Just walk the fuck away.
I don’t know how long I’m standing here repeating the firm mantra, but when I finally open my eyes, she’s still standing before me, looking stable and composed. It’s more than I can say for myself, but her clear self-control forces me to bully my thoughts back into line.
Her cute little chin lifts confidently, her face determined. For a second, I let myself admire her poise, thinking it’s quite a turn-on. Then she speaks and all thoughts of how sexy she looks vanish with the reminder of why I’m here. “I’m not agreeing to you tailing me. I have a life, and I want to get on with it.”
“Agree or not, you and I are going to be very close.” I regret my choice of words immediately when her mouth drops open…because I can see the tip of her pink tongue, and it’s all I can do not to slam my mouth to hers and taste it. I move back again, putting space between us, as does she. I use her need to distance herself to my advantage, disregarding the fact that I moved away, too. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” That’s a blatant lie. I’d happily sink my teeth into her…
“Maybe I do.”
My eyebrows jump up in surprise before I can stop them. She’s quick. I’ll give her that. “Well,” I deadpan. “I’m told I taste good.”
She scowls a little. “You look a little meaty for my liking.”
“Of course. You prefer the pretty-boy type, don’t you?” I stand tall and clear my throat, as if to enhance the fact that I’m the furthest she could get from the preened, streamlined men she gets pictured with.
She steps forward, confident, but her eyes definitely struggle not to get a quick fill of me. “And what type are you?” She cocks her head, waiting for my answer.
That single question has me swallowing a cough. “You don’t want to know,” I answer honestly, getting no thrill from the slight widening of her eyes. I quickly remind myself why I’m here, and it isn’t to goad her. I step back again, giving us both space.
Camille pulls herself together quickly and tugs her bag onto her shoulder. “There is no threat, is there? My ex-boyfriend is back in town, and that’s the only reason my dear father has hired you.”
My first thought is: The drug addict of an ex-boyfriend is back? Why didn’t I know this? My second thought is: If he comes close, I’ll put a fucking bullet in his brain.
The latter thought is purely professional. Because it’s my duty to protect her. “The threat is very real, Miss Logan.” I turn on my professional switch. The one that’s always on. Why it’s malfunctioned now is something I plan on fixing very quickly. “I’ve not been employed to keep you away from your ex-boyfriend,” I say mechanically, adding in my head that I’ll go out of my way to do exactly that, anyway. I saw the pictures of Camille during that brief meltdown. She was a shadow of the woman standing before me—this beautiful, bright, enticing woman.
Enticing?
The irony doesn’t escape me. I encounter women daily who go to shameful lengths to catch my eye. This woman is doing it without even trying. And damn, if it isn’t the most attractive, enticing thing in the fucking world. I shake my head mildly and those unprofessional thoughts away. Again.