Aegis Security 02 - Sinful Surrender (2 page)

RYDER:
Did you find her?

Brian lifted the beer, took another long swallow, then typed in his response.

WALKER:
Yeah. No sign of trouble. Think you’re imagining things
.

RYDER:
Not imagining anything. Stick close to her. Cops still haven’t picked the guy up, and she’s too bullheaded to listen to me. Just don’t let her know I sent you. I’ll never hear the end of it
.

Brian couldn’t blame the girl for not wanting to listen to her domineering, older brother. Though Aegis Security was the best of the best, Jake Ryder was a hard-ass. The former Navy SEAL ran his security company as tight as any ship, and Brian wasn’t the only operative on the team who was thankful he didn’t have to deal with Ryder’s surly attitude on a daily basis. He didn’t have a clue how Ryder’s assistant—Marley Addison—put up with him day after day after miserably long-ass day.

Not particularly wanting to listen to Ryder himself right now, Brian typed “Okay” into his phone and set it down. He hated the fact he was here right now, but even with his yanked vacation, this gig was a thousand times better than being stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan or some third-world hellhole. The money was also head and shoulders above his former Delta Force pay. And—a small part of him hated to admit—it beat the hell out of spending the next week alone, pondering all the ways he’d fucked up his life.

Reaching for his beer again, he looked up at the basketball game on the screen above the bar and wished like hell he hadn’t had to give up his tickets to tonight’s game. Ryder owed him for that. Owed him for making him haul his ass out to Vail in the snow to play babysitter too.

“You like basketball?” the blonde to his right said. “I do too. In fact, I like all kinds of games that involve…balls.”

Brian glanced over his glass and took in her big hair, heavily made-up face, and overly revealing top. Clearly on the prowl, offering to fuck him blind if he wanted, and twenty-five, tops. Yeah, he just bet she liked balls in all shapes and sizes. Too bad he wasn’t interested. “I’m more of a hockey fan, myself. You know, big stick, coming in the crease and all. That’s really more my
thing,
if you know what I mean.”

The blonde’s eyes narrowed. “But… You don’t look gay. I didn’t pick up any gay vibe, and I’m usually really good at noticing.”

“Sorry, darlin’.” He shrugged like there was nothing she could do about it.

Scowling, the blonde reached for her fancy drink and frowned. “The good ones are always married or gay.”

Married wasn’t something Brian wanted to think too much about, especially since the blonde reminded him way too much of his ex, Robin, and not simply because she was young. Forcing it from his mind, he chuckled as she moved down the bar to the next unsuspecting schmuck, then reached for his beer. Someone slid onto the seat at his left, but he didn’t bother to look.

The Blazers snagged the rebound and charged down the court for an easy layup, taking their lead to ten. Brian lifted his beer again and sighed. Maybe he wasn’t that upset he’d given up tonight’s tickets.

“So,” a woman said beside him, “I don’t normally do this, but, um, you have the hottest thighs I’ve ever seen, and I…I just wanted to tell you how gorgeous they are. I’ve sort of been staring at them all night.”

Brian nearly choked on his beer. That was a new one, even for him. He turned his head, then froze.

Ryder’s sister. And his anonymous assignment.
Fuck
.

He had not seen that one coming. Ryder had told him Grace was a wallflower, and while he’d been surprised to see her in the bar tonight, once he’d caught sight of her all gussied up in that cocktail gown, he’d expected her to be waiting on someone Ryder didn’t know about. Someone who might make this suck-ass assignment just a little more interesting. He definitely hadn’t predicted she’d stalk over here and start hitting on
him
.

Play it cool.

Slowly, he lowered his glass to the bar, then looked her over from head to toe, like he hadn’t been able to do from a distance. Dark, shoulder-length hair that curled in all different directions, a small nose, high cheekbones, and full lips. She didn’t look a thing like Ryder, not that Brian had expected her to, considering they had different mothers, but he was glad. Her body was slim, her legs long, and even though she was dressed a little fancy for a place like this, she filled out that black dress to perfection. She also smelled like a summer rain, which he definitely liked. But while he couldn’t deny he felt a tinge of arousal taking her all in up close like this, she was still in her early twenties and definitely not someone he was interested in other than as a part of his job.

“Thanks,” he said when his gaze slid back to her eyes. Dark, almost black eyes. Mysterious. Those were definitely like Ryder’s. “Your thighs are nice too.”

She stared at him with a perplexed expression, then her eyes widened, and she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh my God. I didn’t mean thighs. I meant eyes. You must think I’m a complete idiot. I totally suck at first impressions.”

Brian chuckled, because, yeah, she was cute all flustered and embarrassed like this, and her reaction told him loud and clear that she was absolutely a wallflower rather than a party girl. The only question was, why was she over here hitting on him when—according to Ryder—she was worried about some psycho stalker following her around?

He figured he had two choices. He could brush her off and be stuck watching her from the shadows for the next few days, or he could probe for a little information that might make his job easier and get him the hell off this assignment sooner rather than later. God knew, Ryder had only filled him in on the bare bones.

He swiveled his chair toward her, deciding there was nothing wrong with small talk. Especially now that she’d approached him. “It’s okay, I get it all the time. My thighs are my best feature.”

A slow smile spread across her lips, making her eyes sparkle—and, whoa, look nothing like Ryder’s when she grinned. “You should feel lucky. Very few women think their thighs are their best feature.”

He felt his own smile tugging at his lips as he held out his hand. “I’m Brian. The guy with the hot thighs.”

Her smile widened. Her fingers slid along his. Soft, feminine, delicate… A lot like her. “Um…” She hesitated a quick second. “Samara.”

His brow lifted as he shook her hand. “Samara, huh?” Not Grace. So that was how she wanted to play it.

“Um, yeah. It, uh, means winged fruit of the maple tree. My parents were hippies.”

Bullshit
. Her mother had been a nightclub singer and dancer, her father CEO of a dozen different successful companies. He’d picked up Grace’s mom one night after her set in Vegas. Both were as far from “hippie” as they could get.

The bartender headed by, and Brian held up a hand, stopping the guy. “My friend here would like a drink.” To Grace—no,
Samara
—he said, “What’ll you have?”

“Oh, um.” She clenched the small clutch against the bar, her fingers repeatedly tightening and releasing, a nervous gesture he definitely caught, and looked over the bottles along the wall. “Ah…how about… a white-wine spritzer.”

She’d been drinking a martini before. She clearly didn’t know the follies of mixing alcohols, especially wine.

While the bartender turned to make her drink, Brian’s interest was piqued even more. “So,
Samara
. Ever notice how people don’t have traditional names anymore? Tandi, Jagger, Philippa, Jax. Whatever happened to names like Joan and Rick and Darcy and Steve?”

Her cheeks brightened, as if she knew he was catching her in a lie. “Darcy isn’t a very common name. I’ve only met one person named Darcy my whole life.”

“Is she traditional?”

Grace—
Samara
—considered for a moment. “No, not really. She writes romance novels.”

“Definitely not traditional.” And the woman wasn’t backing down
. Interesting
.

The bartender set her drink in front of her, and she reached for it quickly.

“What about you?” Brian asked. “What do you do?”

“Me?” Grace took a very large sip of her drink and winced like she hadn’t expected it to taste the way it did. And Brian found himself smiling. She was so far out of her comfort zone, it was amusing to watch. “Um, I, ah…I write the back-cover copy. For romance novels.”

No, she didn’t. She wrote music, not anything for any kind of romance novel. She was definitely playing this one high and tight, and he wanted to know why. He was also enjoying himself. More than he had in weeks. “Would I know any of the books you’ve written copy for?”

Unease crossed her features, and she took another large sip. “Do you read romance novels?”

“Only the ones with whips and chains.”

Her eyes shot open, and shock made her mouth open in a tiny, sexy O, one that made him think of—oh yeah, not good—
sex
.

Blood gathered in his groin, and heat rushed through his veins.

A heartbeat passed, then, slowly, her eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with me.”

No. But he suddenly wanted to. His gaze ran over her again, and this time it hovered on her perky breasts, her cleavage barely visible behind the black cocktail gown. Instead of being on display like every other chick in the bar, she was cocooned in a classy little package. One he itched to unwrap.

“I might be.”

Her face relaxed. “Then, no, I guess you wouldn’t.”

She set her glass back down, working for calm when he could tell she was anything but. “What about you, Brian? What do you do?”

What did he do? Two could play this fantasy game. “I’m part of the US men’s ski team.”

“Oh, wow.” Her eyes widened and held his with awe and surprise. Dark, really sexy eyes, he noticed now. Not a thing like Ryder’s, except for the color. “That’s amazing. You must be really good.”

He was good at a lot of things. And he had a wicked urge to show her. Which…totally went against every one of his gut reactions where young, cute girls like her were concerned. He also didn’t like how gullible she was, believing his bullshit so fast. “Yeah.” He frowned, conflicting emotions warring inside him. “I do what I can.”

“Unfortunately, I’m not much of a skier. I stick mostly to the green dots.”

Angled toward her, he propped his elbow on the bar and tried to keep his eyes off her breasts and firmly on her face. “So, Samara, if you’re not much of a skier, what are you doing in Vail?”

“Oh, I—” Her gaze skipped past him, and her whole body tensed.

Brian went from horny men’s ski team member to Aegis operative in a split second. Every muscle tightened in anticipation of some kind of ambush. “What? What do you see?”

He was already reaching back for the Beretta he kept holstered at the base of his spine and turning to look when her hand landed against his jaw, stopping his movement.

She jumped off her stool, moved between his legs, and leaned in close. So close he felt her everywhere. “Nothing. Just my ex.” Her scent—her sexy, fresh, alluring scent—mixed with her heat to float all around him and make him lightheaded. “Quick. Kiss me before he sees me. He’s heading right for us.”

Grace pressed her lips against Brian’s before she thought better of it. All she’d wanted to do was hide from the man heading her way, and kissing Mr. Hottie had seemed like a logical way to do that, especially since no one interrupted a kissing couple. But the second her mouth met Brian’s, tiny sparks of electricity zinged all through her body, short-circuiting her brain.

Oh…
His lips were soft and full and masculine. And his scent this close—sandalwood and something spicy—sent a flutter straight to her belly. He was hard and muscular—everywhere—liked she’d expected, but this close, he was also warm and so damn arousing, the blood in her veins felt like it was close to boiling.

His hand landed on her hip, and he froze against her. Common sense told her she’d surprised him and that she needed to pull back, but she didn’t want to because… Oh man, he smelled too divine, he felt too right, and now that her lips were against his, she
really
wanted to taste him, especially if this was the only time she was going to get the chance.

Her fingers threaded into his hair—she just couldn’t help herself—and, wow, she’d been right. Soft, silky, sensuous strands that slid along her skin. She brushed her mouth over his, skimmed her thumb against his cheek, leaned even closer so her breasts just barely grazed that hard, muscular chest of his.

Kiss me back.
She repeated the words in her head while she moved her mouth over his again, wanting—
needing
—that more than she’d expected. And just when she was sure he wasn’t going to and that it was time to let go, his fingers tightened against her hip.

She stilled. Tingles ignited in her fingers, in her belly, in every inch of her skin. And then his mouth opened, drawing her in, his tongue gliding along hers with a slow and sensuous stroke, and every muscle in Grace’s body turned liquid.

She sank into the kiss, leaning into him, tasting him the way he was tasting her. His hands relaxed, his fingers spread, and then they were sliding along her back, his arms wrapping around her to pull her in tight.

Reality flashed. He was a stranger. Some guy she’d just barely met. And there was something about him that screamed dark and dangerous, but that was part of what attracted her. Though his hands were huge, those thighs of his thick and muscled, grazing the outside of her legs, she wasn’t scared. Some sixth sense told her he wasn’t the kind of guy who would intimidate or try to scare a woman like that idiot back home.

She was completely light-headed by the time he eased back, just a touch, just enough so she could gulp in air. Her heart beat hard. Especially when she realized his eyes—those gorgeous sapphire gems—were locked solidly on hers. All those tingles reignited through Grace’s skin, and she held her breath, waiting for him to say something…anything.