Charlie's chest wheezed. Winning Jives Tech, had been her master plan to raise profits. "Someone leaked about the closures."
"Looks that way."
"If it's Uncle Frank, I'm going to find out."
"Just be careful." Melanie gave her shoulder one last squeeze. "He can make your life more difficult than he already has, if he really wants to."
Charlie rose from her chair, and flashed Melanie a small smile of her own. "Not for long."
"Uncle Frank." She pushed open the door to the CEO's office, then stopped.
Her uncle stood in the doorway, pulling on his jacket.
"Charlie, I was just coming to you." He gave her one of his Frank Halifax smiles. The trademark smile enemy's of Halifax Technologies would see right before their fate was sealed. Or doomed. Depending on what kind of mood he was in.
"Did you leak the closures?"
Frank simply raised one refined silver eyebrow. One thing she'd learned about her uncle was that the direct approach was the only approach.
"I spent forty-years building this company, the last thing I want is to see it fail."
She matched his cynical brow movement. "If that was really true you'd be my mentor and not my opponent."
"I will happily be your mentor. Your mentor who's your boss not your subordinate." His smile flattened. "If you don't like that you can leave, Charlie. You'll live very well on what I've offered." His voice dropped a notch. "Maybe you'll discover your true passion instead of pursuing this useless quest to satisfy your father."
She took a jolting step back. That was the thing that made him such a formidable opponent. He knew how to find a weakness and strike a person right in it.
"You should know by now that Halifax men are never satisfied."
Hurt blazed through her chest but she sucked it in and met his gaze again. "So I'm learning."
They stared at each other. They both new the bogus lawsuit he'd launched for her father's controlling shares, would only last so long.
Eventually Charlie would be in charge no matter who disapproved.
If she could last until the time came that was.
"Come." He moved out of the door. "I've scheduled a meeting in your office."
They moved down the hall to her office. Bob stood talking to the front side of a broad, suit-clad body. A tall, suit-clad body that filled out every corner of the fabric with wide, wide shoulders that tapered to narrow hips.
They approached the pair.
Rich, spicy cologne entered her lungs with the same achy satisfaction as inhaling from a glass of whiskey. She stepped closer, ready for another hit.
He turned.
Freaking Barbarian!
She froze. Damn her eyes, they drank in every inch of him-no subtlety possible, they gorged-feasted on him. His snug grey jacket hung open above a starched blue shirt. His top two buttons hung open, drawing her gaze to his tanned skin.
Her lips opened. A fine patch of dark hair dipped below the button of his shirt. Her gaze stuck there, her mind filling in the gaps. The way that patch would form a trail between his pecs, down his belly toward his-
"Charlie?" Bob asked.
She coughed and glanced up, looking straight past her car-lifting-barbarian-hero to Bob. "Sorry, Bob, I wasn't expecting you."
"Charlie, may I present Mr. Connor Crowe, of Crowe Security."
Connor-he had a name.
He moved in her peripheral vision. She forced herself to look at him as if all her blood wasn't coursing straight to her extremities-and other more sensitive places.
How fitting he worked in security. How bizarre was it that his would be the firm they'd called. His grey-flecked, violet eyes met hers, captured hers, made her want to either disappear or run toward them. She wasn't sure which.
"Actually we've met." She extended her hand. Yes they had. When he'd kissed the breath out of her in a bar.
Saved her life.
Driven her home.
What were the freaking odds?
Connor reached forward and clasped her hand in a mock-professional handshake. Mock, because when his fingers closed around hers he showed her the strength of his grip-showed her with restraint-and rubbed the skin on the back of her hand with his thumb.
Her cheeks went warm, and she slipped her hand free before her uncle could sense and exploit this apparent new weakness.
"Yes, we heard about your encounter, which is why we're all here." Frank shut the door.
Her stomach lifted. What? They'd heard about her making out with a guy in a bar?
"Since you've refused all manner of personal security, we've been forced to employ Mr. Crowe to provide covert protection."
"Covert protection?" She turned to her uncle. Holy-shit-balls. His winner-takes-all smile was back.
What had he done?
"Connor has been acting as a discreet bodyguard this past month." His smile leveled. "He informed us this morning that he was forced to reveal himself to you in order to prevent you from being run down on Friday."
"Run down?" She glanced back to Connor, who seemed to stare straight ahead. "No, it was just some idiot with their lights off."
"Ah, but we can't be sure." He held up his hands. "Between the death threats, the incident on Friday, and the unfortunate accident this morning-"
Connor's gaze twitched and slammed back on her.
"Mr. Crowe feels that the only option to ensure your safety is with full bodyguard service."
Full. Bodyguard. Service.
Her breath caught-with him.
It all sunk in. Friday night when he'd kissed her, he'd been on the job. Undercover on the job. Had he been doing his job when he gave in to her request?
"You're the DUFF that's what happened."
The words rolled through her in a wave of hurt. She'd told herself she didn't care what that one nasty drunk person said. She wasn't ugly. And she wasn't a token designated anything. But did she really believe that a man like this sexy, rugged one, would really take one look at her, and be overwhelmed by passion?
She took a deep breath, and ran a hand down her front. "That won't be necessary."
"Oh, but it will." Frank downright grinned. "Our risk management insurer demands that you have a bodyguard or it will be too risky to have you in the building."
"What?" She glanced at Bob. "And you agree with this?"
"I'm afraid we have no choice." Bob gave her a consoling frown. "It's not really such a large concession though is it, Charlie?"
She swallowed. Bob was right. Agreeing to have a bodyguard wasn't such a big deal. Having this one though?
She kept her gaze from Conan-really-was-barbaric. Judging by his actions, he doubled as a spy. Probably reported everything she'd done over the last month right back to Frank.
Had he reported the kiss?
"And what if I refuse?"
Did Frank laugh about that? She swallowed again, her mouth sticky. Did they laugh at her together?
"Then you'll be suspended from work, your security pass will be revoked, and you'll be banned from entering the premises."
She turned her back to them all and faced the window. Screw you, Frank. They knew they had her. "May I have some time to decide at least?"
"You have until the morning."
Footsteps retreated.
"Wait." She spun around. "He'll maintain this covert protection until then, and stay out of my space?"
Frank paused at the door. "Yes, until tomorrow morning, he'll stay out of your space. Won't you Mr. Crowe?"
Connor gave one jerking chin movement of assent.
"Fine, I'll have an answer for you in the morning." She raised her chin. "Right now, I'd like to have a private word with Mr. Crowe before he makes himself scarce."
Bob and Frank left. Suddenly she was alone with her barbarian spy. Her heart thumped a rigorous beat in her chest. She turned to him. A lump worked its way up her throat. "Let's make this quick. My schedule is tight."
***
Tight. She said the word and all Connor could think was tight. Yeah she'd be exquisitely tight wrapped around his-
What am I doing?
She'd walked in, rendering him as pitiful as she had on Friday. Didn't help she'd worn some stretchy blouse that did nothing to hide the sweet, juicy perfection of her incredible tits.
Her gaze snapped to his and her golden-amber eyes spat at him. "Covert security?"
For a person he'd witnessed every day since she'd been his sole job and purpose, be nothing but warm and approachable, the way she stalked towards him bristled with hostility.
"How much of that involves reporting back to my Uncle?"
Was that any way to approach a man who'd she'd begged for a kiss?
He held back the smirk that was sure to be poorly received. "Frank Halifax takes my report on your welfare every Monday morning."
"And what exactly did this morning's report include?" Her voice dropped and octave, and she inched closer. "Did you tell my uncle you'd been kissing your client?"
Heat rose into his chest. That damned kiss. One he never should have given in to. One he'd justified by telling himself giving in was less likely to blow his cover than turning away a woman he'd been powerlessly ogling.