Protecting Lulu (Global Protection Agency) by J. M. Jeffries

seemed
deep in thought. “Is Hassad dangerous?”
    “Dante
will run a computer check on him tonight before he goes to bed.”
    “What
happens if the post office sends me a new mailman?”
    “From
now on everyone who comes into your life gets checked out.”
    She
pulled out a chair and sat down. She lifted her leg and stared at her foot. “I’m
even too exhausted to bend over to take my shoes off.”
    Noah
knelt down in front of her. He slipped his hand down her ankle to her shoe and
eased it off. His fingers left tingling sensations on her skin.
    “How
do you walk in these things?”
    “My
aunt swears I was born wearing stilettos.” Lulu smiled. She remembered the
first time she’d worn her mother’s high heels. She’d been three and cried when
she had to put them back. Even at three she’d had an eye for fashion.
    He
held the shoe up, shaking his head. “They are high.”
    “I
know. Impractical as hell, but gorgeous. I adore shoes. These are Gucci.” She
smiled at the shoe.
    “You
need to put away the Guccis and get yourself a nice pair of sneakers.”
    Her
mouth fell open in surprise. “What? You’re kidding me.”
    “Lucinda,
if I have to get you out of someplace in a hurry, you’ll never make it in these
stilts.”
    “Can’t
you just get me a Kevlar poncho? I can’t be seen in sneakers. My reputation
would be ruined. That could have serious impact on my financial standings. Then
I’d have to fire you because I couldn’t pay you.”
    “I’ve
seen your financial statement. You’re— ”
    “You
don’t understand.” She shook her finger at him.
    “Then
break it down for me,” he said, sitting back on his heels.
    She
took a moment to gather her thoughts. “You have to understand the world I live
in.”
    “Talk
slow and use little words,” he said.
    “When
a person reaches a certain level of celebrity, the public watches your every
move, critiquing everything you do from what you say, to what you eat, and what
you wear. Every moment since you’ve been here, how many photographers have been
on the street waiting for me to come out? They are waiting for me to look like
a messy, unkempt fat girl. They are hoping they’ll see me falling apart. I
can’t wear Dolce and Gabbana with a pair of sneakers. Star Magazine would have
me on the cover on my way to the loony bin saying only God knows what’s wrong
with me. My mental breakdown would be on the cover of every rag magazine in the
world within twenty-four hours.”
    He
raised an eyebrow. “All of this over a pair of sneakers.”
    “Women
buy the image I present.”
    “Ergo,
you wear sneakers; you’ll be poor and crazy.”
    She
nodded still shocked that he wanted her to give up a vital part of who she was.
Sneakers! Was he insane? Aiden would have a fit if she appeared in a heel less
the four inches.
    “Like
I said, I’ve seen your financial statements. You’re a long way from being this
poor.” He held his hand up, thumb and forefinger barely touching. “I’d rather
see you poor and crazy, than dead and fashionable.”
    “That’s
just because you want to kiss me again,” she said with a little flirty toss of
her head.
    He
stared at her. “Kissing is only a small part of what I want to do to you.”
    She
bent over, her lips close to his. “Mr. Callahan, I think you like me a lot more
than you let on.”
    “More
than I want to.”
    “I’m
going to kiss you again.”
    “Yeah,
I’m going to let you.”
    She
closed her eyes and felt his lips on hers. A shiver started at the base of her
neck and worked its way down her spine.
    He
broke off. “You are a lot of trouble, Lucinda Bennington. You make me want to
be a bad boy.”
    “Not
a bad boy. They get in trouble. Naughty boys have fun.”
    He
kissed her again, one hand sliding up her back, the other twining in her hair. He
held the back of her head. Her breasts started to ache and she felt a deep heat
spreading through her.
    The
door to the kitchen opened and Dante sauntered