Seducing the Bodyguard (2 page)

“Perhaps we can come to an arrangement,” Valencia smiled. “I will play the girlfriend—in title only, and in public only, but in private I will wear only one suit, and that will be the suit of the bodyguard. To your public I will appear as just a woman by your side. But I will always be the bodyguard protecting your life. Nobody else has to know that except the people here in this room.”

He thought about that real hard, and real long. With her playing the role of the girlfriend maybe he could get a taste of that mouth of hers, see if it’s as sweet as she sounds. He could also have that hot little body pressed against him in ways that would make him ache for more. Oh, that could be a problem. He wouldn’t be getting any release for that ache. She had pretty much made that clear with her “in title only” statement. He licked his lips as his eyes roved over her body. “Okay,” he said. “But I’m not stationary to D.C.”

“Actually,” Drake finally broke his silence. “She’s a friend of Thomas’ and I told him I needed a bodyguard. He highly recommended Valencia. She agreed to come here to see if you would be willing to hire her on.”

He rolled his eyes. Why was this woman even still turning him on? He should be annoyed, tired of her, ready to ship her back to Hawaii. Instead, he was ready to pay her fee. Whatever her fee was. “How much is this costing me?”

“I’m paying the fee,” Drake said. “I figured it was the only sure fire way to get you to say yes.”

“No, you figured getting a woman was the only sure fire way to get me to say yes,” he barked. “Fine. I leave for Scottsdale in the morning. I trust you’ll be ready to go.”

She nodded gracefully. “Will you be flying commercially or privately?”

“Commercially,” he said. “First class. I’m sure, even if there aren’t any seats left there, that you can find a seat in coach.”

She grinned. “Rule number one,” she said so seriously that he thought he might just die from her lethal tone. “You will not leave my line of site. I will always be with you. So if there are no seats left in first class then we will both fly coach or we will both take a later flight.”

Jeez, she could guard his body any time, any day, and any night. “Rule number one,” he mirrored her tone. “My rule number one,” he corrected. “There are no women in the bathroom with me unless they’re helping me aim.”

“Harrison!”

Valencia didn’t flinch. “I was unaware that you needed assistance in that department. It is not part of my job description, but I am sure I can ask the guy next to you to do it for you, should you require such help.”

He groaned low in his throat. This woman was a pistol. Every time he thought he had her beat she came back with something that put him back in his place. Well, maybe having a bodyguard would be fun—a new challenge. This was one bodyguard that wasn’t going to beat him at his own game. She wanted a war—she just got one. And he always played to win.

He shrugged. “Fine. I guess it will give us tonight to prepare our cover story at least. Provided you can remember it all.” He grinned.

“I have no problem with memory.” She picked up her dossier and tucked it between her arm and her ribcage as she recited the history of his life from grade school through high school, to his college musical accomplishments right down to present day. She gave him the abridged version, but it had all been startling accurate. “Anything else you’d like to know?”

“Yeah,” he snapped. “What did I have for breakfast this morning?”

“It’s Tuesday,” she said. “That means you had eggs—scrambled, two pieces of turkey bacon, four blueberry pancakes, one piece of sausage and a glass of grapefruit juice.”

“You forgot the oatmeal.”

“You didn’t have oatmeal today. That’s your Thursday breakfast.”

“How the hell do you know all of this?” She was right about everything and on some level that scared him. Maybe she was his stalker.

“I make it my business to know everything about a potential client. It’s how I decide if I care enough to invest my time in keeping them safe.”

“You interview your client? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

She shrugged. “At the end of the day, Mr. Sinclair I have to be willing to put my life on the line for my client. I have to be willing to take that bullet. And if I don’t believe in my client; if I don’t think my client is worth that, then I don’t take the case. Is that understood?”

It was. She had been interviewing him and the whole time he thought he was picking her. He could have agreed to protection and she could have walked away—just that simple. At the end of the day his decision didn’t make a world of difference because if she didn’t think he was worth it she would have left him standing there. “Understood,” he mumbled.

“We’ll leave you two alone to talk,” Drake pulled on Geneva’s hand as he urged her to give the two some time to pull together their strategy.

Once the door closed Harrison set about getting answers to his own questions. She wasn’t black. He could tell that, but she had some black in her and with a last name like Mishoto he wanted to know her lineage.

“My father is Japanese. My mother is considered seventy-five percent Polynesian and twenty-five percent black given her lineage. Is this really important?”

“Why should I?” She flipped through the dossier again. “Listen,” she looked up, her eyes cold as ice. “In Hawaii I don’t have a huge problem with racism from the locals. Everybody knows my family and so they know my heritage. Mostly, they know I’m a native Hawaiian and I respect our land, our customs and honor our traditions. On the mainland,” she kept her tone level. “I run into idiots all over the place who make themselves appear dumber than dirt by making assumptions about me. I’m either not black enough because of my hair, or I’m black with fake hair. If my lineage bothers you, Mr. Sinclair, feel free to hire another bodyguard.”

He held up his hand in surrender. “I’m sorry. I was just curious. You have beautiful brown skin, but your features are very exotic. I hadn’t seen a woman who looked like you before now. I mean you’re not quite brown sugar, but you’re smooth, like honey—at least you look smooth.” He had really only had limited contact with her skin, outside of her hands. Those hands, though smooth, had been strong and had seen work.

He nodded. “Noted,” he sat back in his chair. She was nothing like the women he was used to, not in looks and certainly not in temperament. He may have meant to goad her a bit. He, of course, wanted to get back at her for practically eviscerating his manhood in front of Drake and Geneva, but he hadn’t meant to come off as some racist brother who was trying to attack her heritage.

“Now, let’s go over the itinerary and the cover, shall we;” she sat back in her chair and once again returned her attention to her dossier.

Clearly he had already put his foot in his mouth with this woman. He was surprised she hadn’t gotten up and walked out on him. Then again, she had accepted an assignment and he gathered she wouldn’t readily walk away from one because she was too honorable for that. Now he felt guilty. He would have to find a way to make it up to her. How could he make it up to her? Any other woman and he would just buy them something nice and expensive and be done with it. But this woman…she looked like she could afford her own brand of expensive, and she didn’t seem like the type to go for being seduced with presents.

Chapter Two

V
alencia already knew Harrison was flying commercially, and she also knew there were seats available because she had already booked her flight long before he accepted her as his bodyguard. She was sure he would say yes. They always said yes. Due to her size she spent a great deal of time doing a pre-hire proof session with male clients who assumed she couldn’t protect them. The only clients she didn’t have to go through that process with were those who came to her with a recommendation from a previous client. People were always surprised to find out she took references in consideration before saying yes to their request. They all seemed to assume she was desperate for business when really she wasn’t. She had turned down clients before without hesitation.

Most people assumed women would be less judgmental, but they weren’t. In fact, she hated working with women because they were the most annoyingly petty people to work with. The worst was the husband who needed a bodyguard. The wife was so insecure that the thought of another woman spending time with their husband sent them into witch mode fast. She limited her acceptance of those types of cases, but occasionally an old friend of a friend would call her and plead for her to take the client on. It was good money, but being a bodyguard was far more stressful than things were when she was just an assassin. Being an assassin for the government was easy. She was the best of the best and she answered to one person only. Her job was simple, find the target and eliminate it. Being a bodyguard meant protect, save a life, make sure the bad guy or girl, didn’t get to the target. That responsibility, the responsibility of protecting a life instead of taking one, was a heavy load to bear.

It wasn’t that her job as an assassin hadn’t helped save lives. Killing one monster inevitably saved the lives of several relatively innocent people, but years of killing…it was enough. Saving Thomas McGregor’s life had been the apex of her turning point. The feelings she received from saving a life far outweighed the adrenaline rush she had when she was on the hunt to take one. She was out of the assassin game—mostly anyway. Now she was a bodyguard, protecting and keeping safe the average man or woman so that they had a chance to live another day.

This new assignment would be a challenge. Harrison Sinclair was a…jerk seemed like too strong of a word to use right now. She would reserve jerk-status until she spent a little more time with him. She would, however, say he was cocky. He was too cocky and being cocky could easily get him killed. He underestimated his enemy because she was a woman. And, like a lot of people she had spent time protecting, he was a man who didn’t want to readily admit having a weak spot. She shook her head. The safest cover they had come up with—safe to protect his manhood while still being safe enough to keep her by his side at all times, was that she was the girlfriend who was thinking of investing in his next opera. As if Harrison really needed an investor. His family had enough money to back each other without outside help, but given the fact that he had, on occasion, allowed an outside backer behind one of his projects, it didn’t seem out of the ordinary that he would do it this time.

She walked around his estate making sure the grounds were secure before heading back inside and checking the inner parameter once more.

“No it’s not,” she noted as she turned to look at him. “Your problem is that you still don’t quite know what to make of me and so you feel the need to pester me.” She looked him over from head to toe. “If you’re trying to see just how far you can push before I leave, or snap your neck, don’t waste your time. I’m a professional.”

“Snap my neck?” He nearly choked out the words. “And you’re supposed to be protecting me?”