Leah Braemel - Personal Protection

Closing her eyes only made her awareness of him worse. It let her focus on the warmth that flowed from him, enveloping her in a comforting blanket. While he hadn’t put on any more of that wonderful cologne he wore, she was aware of a scent underneath the smell of the soap he’d used. Every man she ever met from now on would be compared to the man standing directly behind her.

Her breath left her in a whoosh when he placed his hands lightly on her shoulders.

“You look like you’ve had a tough day, Ms. Ramos. You need to relax.”

Heck he didn’t even have to touch her, his voice alone could melt her bones and turn her into a puddle of goo at his feet. When his fingers massaged her shoulders, she couldn’t help but lean into his touch.

“That’s it, Rosie. Just relax.”

Her breasts felt heavier, warmer, the fabric of her blouse tightened over her nipples longing to be touched by the fingers that caressed her neck.

And then her Berry rang, a unique ring she’d assigned to Chad’s number. Crap! How had she forgotten that she was not only Sam’s employee but his bodyguard?

Employee, not lover. Remember his type. Tall, lithe and beautiful. And if she added the news clippings and photos of his last girlfriend to the equation, rich.

She straightened her shoulders as she removed her Berry then, without looking at Sam’s reflection, took a half step sideways and fled to the kitchen. “Hey, Chad, what’s up?”

When she returned, she found Sam sprawled on the couch, one foot on the floor, the other propped up on the coffee table. He patted the cushion beside him. “Come here, Rosie, let me finish that backrub.”

“I’m here to protect you, Mr. Watson. Not to relax.”

His lips tilted up in a half smile that she knew so well. “You don’t mind if I relax though, do you?”

Something about the way he asked had her on alert. Nothing he said ever meant quite what she expected. “It’s your home, Mr. Watson.”

“My name’s Sam.”

“I think while I’m guarding you I’ll stick with Mr. Watson.” She had to keep that formality or she’d not only fall into his arms but crawl into his bed.

One eyebrow arched up. His fingers drummed on his thigh a couple of times before he reached for a box by his foot on the coffee table and withdrew a cigar. “Since this is my house, I’d say that you should abide by my rules.”

His rules? “Why don’t I just call you My Lord or Master.”

His gaze dropped to her cleavage, which swelled over the arms she’d folded across her chest, and his smile widened. When he looked up at her, something hot and dark flared in the back of his eyes. “If I’m your master, I guess that makes you my slave.”

His sense of humor was well known, but the look on his face told her that he wasn’t joking, and the powerful undercurrent in the conversation left her floundering for sure footing. “Slavery’s outlawed in this country.”

“If you only knew.” He trimmed the end of his cigar then picked up a book of matches and struck one, holding the flame to the cigar’s tip.

Her feet touching bottom once more, Rosie raised her chin and looked him square in the eye. “While I am staying here, Mr. Watson-”

His brows clamped together in a frown of displeasure. “I thought I told you to use my name. My Christian name.”

Arrrgh! “Sam then! The point is, I have a few rules of my own.”

“I’ll just bet you do.” He gestured with his cigar to the couch again. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while we discuss your rules?”

“I prefer to stand, thank you.” Ignoring his raised eyebrow, Rosie paced in front of the fireplace. “You’ve made it very clear you don’t like having bodyguards, but you have to remember that you are the owner of Hauberk-if something happens to you there will be a lot of people out of jobs.”

“I’m quite aware of that.” His thumb and index finger rolled the cigar in what she knew was an unconscious gesture, she’d seen him do it so many times before. Yet she found herself entranced by the motion of the glowing tip. “You were telling me your rules?”

She jerked her attention back to his gaze and saw the look of amusement on his face. Damn it, she had to stay in control. “As your lead op, it’s up to me to ensure your safety as well as the future employment of your employees. So first off, you do not answer your door-that’ll be my job. I’ll be screening your phone calls as well. Whenever you leave the apartment, you will wear a bulletproof vest and we will take one of the company limos. You will not attempt to leave-” She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to speak. “No, Chad warned me that you might try something sneaky. If you try to get past us-past me, I will recommend that you be stashed in one of Hauberk’s safe houses and kept under armed guard. And Chad’ll agree.” He would, she’d already discussed that possibility with him. “Now, I want you to guarantee me that you will not try to go anywhere without one of the team with you.”

“You’d trust me if I agreed?” His voice deepened.

“Yes. You’re a man who honors his promises. Now, will you give me your word not to go anywhere without me, Andy or Kris with you?”

He tipped his head and drew a long puff on his cigar. After he’d exhaled a wreath of smoke into the air, he nodded and raised his left hand. “I promise to let you answer the door and the phone, and I promise to stay in the apartment while you’re with me.”

Before she could point out to him that he’d raised the wrong hand, or question the way he’d phrased his promise, her cell phone buzzed, and two seconds later there was a knock at the door.

Checking her cell, she found a one-word text message from Andy confirming the identity of their visitor. As she hurried to the door, she glanced over at Sam who crossed his feet on the coffee table and took another long drag of his cigar.

A king of the castle ensconced on his throne as his lackeys hustled around him. Yet there was no sense of entitlement about him. No smug satisfaction. So why did she have the feeling she’d fallen into some sort of trap?

Even though she knew who was on the other side, Rosie checked the flat screen monitoring the camera they’d mounted outside. Their visitor’s identity confirmed, she opened the door.

“Hi, Sandy, what brings you here at this hour?”

Sandy stepped into the foyer and gestured to Kris who trailed behind her carrying two banker’s boxes.

“Chad asked me to bring over the files of clients we’ve had for the past two years-he figures there might be something in them about Sam’s stalker.”

“Where do you want ’em?” Kris asked.

Rosie jumped when Sam spoke from directly behind her. “Why don’t you take one box back to your apartment? Rosie and I can start going through the other box here.”

How did such a large man move so quietly?

Sam relieved Kris of the top box, but before he could disappear down the hall to his study, Sandy stopped him. “Oh and, Sam? Chad wants you to give me your Blackberry-he wants to give you a new number. John is loading some program on my computer to catch anyone going into my address book.”

“Hang on a sec, I’ll get it for you.”

Sam headed to his office while Kris ambled back to what Rosie now thought of as their temporary headquarters, leaving her alone with Sandy. Rosie made small talk, but noticed that Sandy kept shuffling her feet and not meeting her gaze. “Sandy? Is something wrong?”

“It’s just… I’m surprised you’re…” Sandy glanced down the hall, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “Forget I said anything.”

“Something’s bugging you, Sandy, I can tell. So spill.”