Blush(90)

She tried out her new fan. It barely ruffled her bangs, and she tossed the sheet of paper onto the table. “Blush is mine. I have to be there to defend my company from the wolves.”

“You’re not irresponsible, you’re agitated that you aren’t in control of the situation. You have PR people whose job it is to make sure there’s no negative press and, if there is, to mitigate it. Let them do their jobs.”

“I want to know who it was impersonating me in China. Hell, I want to go there. See what the situation is with my own eyes.”

“When the danger has passed, sure. But right now you have to stay put.”

She chewed her lower lip as she pretended to consider it. But he knew better. She wasn’t going to stay in Bayou Cheniere, Louisiana, no matter what he said. He saw in the firm set of her jaw that she’d already made the decision to go home. Cruz felt a strange surge of panic.

Getting up, he went to her and scooped her up in his arms, turning her to face him, her legs on either side of his hips. She couldn’t mistake his erection as he settled her astride his lap.

Loosely crossing her wrists behind his head, she gave him a stern look, made sexier by the black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose. Sexy librarians had nothing on sexy women CEOs.

“We still have half the people on the list to go through.”

She’d hired an independent security company to do that job. But she was still doing her own legwork. Cruz was observing Amelia Wellington-Wentworth in action. The powerful, take-no-prisoners CEO was sexy as hell.

“Did you ask the Black Raven people to do a background check on me, too?” Cruz asked, sliding his palms between her tank top and shorts. Her skin was damp, silky smooth, and the heat of her skin intensified the fragrance of tuberoses, making him dizzy.

Mia lifted her arm so he could draw the fabric over her head, then settled her wrists back on his shoulders. Looking at him over the edge of her glasses, she said, “Of course, wouldn’t you have done the same?”

There’d be nothing to find. Cruz Barcelona had a sketchy but realistic past. He’d paid a great deal of money to make it so for Cruz Barcelona and the dozen other well-worn aliases he’d used over the years for his job. They were all solid. “Of course. You’ll find out more about me if you ask the right questions yourself.”

Her smile was faint as she lazily ran her fingers through his hair. “But would you tell me what questions to ask?”

Placing both hands on her lips, he lifted her from his lap so she stood between his spread knees, and pulled down the zipper on her shorts. “Under the right circumstances, yeah.” He was still undecided whether he’d tell her any part of his truth before he left.

He loved the soft fluff he revealed as he eased the fabric over her hips. Sliding her shorts down her legs, he leaned forward to kiss her satin belly, breathing in heady musk and the rich scent of her skin.

It was as though the very essence of her had bonded permanently with his DNA. The realization should scare the hell out of him. But she fascinated him too much for that to happen. The sex was off the charts, but it was her kindness and willingness to learn new things that captivated him. She had charm, compassion, and a steel rod for a spine.

Kicking her shorts aside, Mia said sternly, “Lose those clothes, buddy.” While he stripped, she unfastened her bra so that she stood gloriously naked between his knees.

Cruz ran his hands up her hips, urging her forward. “This can’t possibly be comfortable, Barcelona.” Mia spread her legs over his lap.

He eased her down on his erection and she wrapped her arms around his neck as they moved together. “Nice and slow.”

“For the moment.” She smiled against his neck, and his penis jerked in response to the flex of her internal muscles.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said, feeling her vaginal walls pulse around his dick. “We can finish this list in the morning. By which time they might have some answers—”

There was no warning. One moment he was nuzzling her damp throat, planning what he’d do with her naked body when they got on a horizontal surface, and the next the window beside them shattered. Glass showered them in a slow-motion rain of sharp fragments, followed instantly by the high-pitched whine of a bullet as it whizzed inches from Mia’s head.





Chapter Seventeen

The bullet struck six feet behind them, exploding into the wall in a burst of sharp fragments of wood and plaster.

Cruz, having seen movement outside from the corner of his eye seconds before the strike, was already yelling “Get down!” as he wrenched her off him, off the chair, and onto the floor in one violent, jolting move. Covering her with his body.