“Don’t think I’ll forget
that camera you planted in the Holbrook conference room.”
“Just being safe.
Besides, they had
one there too, if you remember.” He eased the furniture back into
place. “And I wouldn’t think twice about putting one in here if I
thought your safety was on the line.”
“It’s not.” She lifted her chin.
“You sure?”
What could she say? I’m here to get fucked, not
murdered ? Not an option. She settled for
simply giving him her own raised eyebrow. Which, Mel being Mel,
bounced off him like a ping-pong ball off a Mack truck.
“Looks clear. Even the pool.” He glanced
over his shoulder to a partially hidden corner of the huge
room.
“What?” Rose followed his gaze and noticed a
rather opulent bath tucked behind some lush plants. It could’ve
seated eight at a pinch. Definitely a party place, if one was into
water sports. She grinned. “That’s a whirlpool tub, not a
pool.”
“Never seen a bath you could do laps in.
That’s a pool in my book.”
“Update your book, Mel. I guess they’re more
common these days.”
Together they walked back into the living
area, where he took a final glance around the room, nodded briefly
and opened the door. “I’ll be outside. You need me, call. I’ll hear
you.”
The light from the hall silhouetted his tall
form for a moment and then the door closed, leaving Rose alone in
the elegantly decorated suite where huge windows were cloaked with
rich velvet drapes against the oncoming night. A crystal table lamp
shed its soft light on the muted tones of the thick carpet.
She strolled to the buffet that lined one
wall and gazed at the mass of scented candles, then let her fingers
drift over the tasteful selection of high-end glossy magazines, her
thoughts still on Mel.
He’s good at his
job .
He spoke little, was as unobtrusive as a
shadow, and yet…lately she’d noticed something in his eyes when
they met hers.
He looks at me like he’s
interested . Like
he wants to take my clothes off and check me for bugs. And I think
I’d let him. Which is entirely the fault of being celibate for too
long.
Maybe she was imagining it. He’d been by her
side, protecting her ever since her husband had been felled by an
aneurism and left her in sole control of Jackson Enterprises. Now
that she fit the description of incredibly rich widow, she supposed
she needed a bodyguard. She had taken over the reins of the
business, developed new campaigns and worked hard on new leads over
the past eighteen months. She’d proved herself worthy of the CEO
position she’d inherited - but at one hell of a cost.
To accomplish her goals, she’d sacrificed
herself in a variety of ways…no social life, no parties, no
adventurous foreign vacations…not even a shopping trip down Fifth
Avenue more than once every six months or so. Sometimes she’d had
to remind herself to shower. It had been all work, all the time.
Deaf to the entreaties of her friends, she’d hunkered down in her
office, and only now could she come up for air, breathe, and take a
few hours for herself. The work was still there, but she had it
running the way she wanted at last, with people she could rely on
taking some of the burden from her shoulders.
Of course, the change in her situation and
her new accessibility brought about its own share of problems.
Not a day passed without a friend
approaching her bearing a suggestion. Often it was for a blind
date, or occasionally it was the phone number of some businessman
they knew who wanted to take her to dinner. Which was all well and
good, but not anything Rose was particularly interested in. Even
though the last couple of years had been spent in near-hermitlike
isolation, she wasn’t a fool and had a well-developed streak of
practicality.
She knew she couldn’t trust anyone to go out
with her as Rose and not Ms. Jackson, rich widow. Doubtless those
men existed. But she’d rather be safe than sorry. A woman in her
position only gave
that camera you planted in the Holbrook conference room.”
“Just being safe.
Besides, they had
one there too, if you remember.” He eased the furniture back into
place. “And I wouldn’t think twice about putting one in here if I
thought your safety was on the line.”
“It’s not.” She lifted her chin.
“You sure?”
What could she say? I’m here to get fucked, not
murdered ? Not an option. She settled for
simply giving him her own raised eyebrow. Which, Mel being Mel,
bounced off him like a ping-pong ball off a Mack truck.
“Looks clear. Even the pool.” He glanced
over his shoulder to a partially hidden corner of the huge
room.
“What?” Rose followed his gaze and noticed a
rather opulent bath tucked behind some lush plants. It could’ve
seated eight at a pinch. Definitely a party place, if one was into
water sports. She grinned. “That’s a whirlpool tub, not a
pool.”
“Never seen a bath you could do laps in.
That’s a pool in my book.”
“Update your book, Mel. I guess they’re more
common these days.”
Together they walked back into the living
area, where he took a final glance around the room, nodded briefly
and opened the door. “I’ll be outside. You need me, call. I’ll hear
you.”
The light from the hall silhouetted his tall
form for a moment and then the door closed, leaving Rose alone in
the elegantly decorated suite where huge windows were cloaked with
rich velvet drapes against the oncoming night. A crystal table lamp
shed its soft light on the muted tones of the thick carpet.
She strolled to the buffet that lined one
wall and gazed at the mass of scented candles, then let her fingers
drift over the tasteful selection of high-end glossy magazines, her
thoughts still on Mel.
He’s good at his
job .
He spoke little, was as unobtrusive as a
shadow, and yet…lately she’d noticed something in his eyes when
they met hers.
He looks at me like he’s
interested . Like
he wants to take my clothes off and check me for bugs. And I think
I’d let him. Which is entirely the fault of being celibate for too
long.
Maybe she was imagining it. He’d been by her
side, protecting her ever since her husband had been felled by an
aneurism and left her in sole control of Jackson Enterprises. Now
that she fit the description of incredibly rich widow, she supposed
she needed a bodyguard. She had taken over the reins of the
business, developed new campaigns and worked hard on new leads over
the past eighteen months. She’d proved herself worthy of the CEO
position she’d inherited - but at one hell of a cost.
To accomplish her goals, she’d sacrificed
herself in a variety of ways…no social life, no parties, no
adventurous foreign vacations…not even a shopping trip down Fifth
Avenue more than once every six months or so. Sometimes she’d had
to remind herself to shower. It had been all work, all the time.
Deaf to the entreaties of her friends, she’d hunkered down in her
office, and only now could she come up for air, breathe, and take a
few hours for herself. The work was still there, but she had it
running the way she wanted at last, with people she could rely on
taking some of the burden from her shoulders.
Of course, the change in her situation and
her new accessibility brought about its own share of problems.
Not a day passed without a friend
approaching her bearing a suggestion. Often it was for a blind
date, or occasionally it was the phone number of some businessman
they knew who wanted to take her to dinner. Which was all well and
good, but not anything Rose was particularly interested in. Even
though the last couple of years had been spent in near-hermitlike
isolation, she wasn’t a fool and had a well-developed streak of
practicality.
She knew she couldn’t trust anyone to go out
with her as Rose and not Ms. Jackson, rich widow. Doubtless those
men existed. But she’d rather be safe than sorry. A woman in her
position only gave
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