All I want from Larkin is protection. She repeated it over and over in her head, making sure she understood the score.
But when the doorbell rang at six o’clock, her thighs quivered, her breathing grew choppy and reality smacked her in the face. She was lying, especially to herself. Larkin Wolff would protect her and her charges from outside danger. But the absolute worst threat had already breached her defenses.
She was in sexual quicksand and sinking fast. Pasting on a smile as fake as a three-dollar bill, she swung open the door. “Back so soon?”
* * *
Larkin was hot, hungry and irritated with himself. He’d spent the past several hours trying to concentrate on business while at the same time spinning fantasies that involved a naked Winnie Bellamy in his bed. It was ludicrous. He’d like to blame the aberration on the heat or the fact that he’d broken his cardinal rule about drinking on the job and had a beer at lunch. Unfortunately, the temperature was still comfortably in the low eighties, and the alcohol content of the ale was minuscule.
So where did that leave him? He’d worked hard to keep his business life impersonal and his private life completely separate from business. As a security professional, he prided himself on protecting the weak, the innocent and, sometimes, the naive. Occasionally, he protected the powerful, if the price was right. But never, ever did he allow a client to break through his emotional firewalls. He was a man who liked his own company, and he didn’t need anyone. More importantly, he didn’t want anyone to need him…at least anyone who wasn’t paying for his services.
Winnie, he could already tell, was going to pose a problem. He found himself making exceptions to hard-and-fast rules—going over and above what she had hired him to do—and he wasn’t sure he could stop himself. Installing her in the bosom of his family made sense on paper. But the reality was far murkier. Would he have done this for anyone else?
When she opened the door, it was all he could do not to stare. She had showered recently. Her damp hair, twisted in a knot on top of her head, smelled of honeysuckle. He sucked in a sharp breath. Down, boy.
The overalls were gone, but now she wore soft, faded jeans that hugged her trim legs, along with a white T-shirt that read Take a Book to Bed. The image of his new employer tucked beneath the covers wearing who knows what sent his libido tumbling into an entirely inappropriate free fall. He cleared his throat, feeling heat creep up his neck. “I’m back.”
She surveyed the small duffel bag at his feet. “So you are. Come in.”
As he stepped into the cool foyer, he handed her a sack filled with paper cartons. “Chinese takeout. I hope that’s okay. You said your housekeeper had the day off.”
She grabbed the offering and inhaled. “Are you kidding? Ambrosia of the gods. I love living in the country, but the lack of fast food is a definite drawback at times. Come on into the kitchen. And by the way, you get points for paying attention. Most men I know would have missed that entirely.”
“It’s my job to notice details.” Like the way her lacy bra barely concealed pert nipples pressing against thin fabric.
He dropped his bag at the foot of the stairs and followed her into the kitchen like a puppy dog sniffing for a treat. Her feet were bare. Though he had appreciated the sexy gold sandals, her naked toes with raspberry polish were equally alluring.
As they ate, Winnie’s pointed questions reminded him that he was in residence as a professional.
She held up a chopstick, waving it in the air. “Let’s hear it. What am I getting for my money?”