Wet and Ready by Cherise St. Claire Page A

clutched her purse and steadied herself as she made her way to the back of the house.  Now that she thought about it, the place was eerily quiet today.  Usually, the maids or cooks were bustling around like bees tending a hive.  Not this morning, though.  This morning, the place felt as cold and motionless as a mausoleum. 
    She paused, her hand on the gold-tipped doorknob, and thought back to Lester’s parting comment.  How dare he insinuate the she wasn’t well groomed.  The reflection looking back at Reese from the mirror on the wall showed that she looked perfectly fine.  Perhaps her bare cheeks could use a bit more color.  Her skin had precisely the right amount of bronze to allow her to forego heavy cosmetics and her lips were sparingly dotted with a light pink gloss.  Yeah, okay, her lashes could have used a little mascara and maybe her hazel eyes could have been more attractive had she put on a little liner, but Reese wasn’t trying to catch a man.  On the contrary, she was running from one.  And, at this point, she wondered if she’d ever get far enough away.
    The company cell phone given to her by Lester chimed in her purse, startling her. When it rings, you answer.  Day or night.   She recalled his stern warning. 
    The phone was preprogrammed.  Her heart seized when she saw his name appear on the screen.
    Diamond.
    No first name included.
    No first name needed.
    With a nervous finger, Reese touched the screen to connect the call.
    “Reese Worthington,” she stammered.
    So much for nerves of steel.
    “Where are you?”
    “I’m here.  At the house.  On my way to see you.”
    Reese looked in front of her.  About a hundred feet from the door was the pool.  She saw an arm languidly snake out from behind a lounge chair and reach for a glass on the nearby table.  The hand disappeared and then reemerged to put the glass back down again.
    “Is there a reason why you’re keeping me waiting to see you?”
    His voice.  Sweet God.  The deep timber of his voice sent shivers throughout her body, like a drop of water rippling through a pond.  No inch of her was left unstirred. 
    By just the sound of his voice . .  . 
    Reese forced herself to place one foot in front of the other.
    “No.” Reese struggled to compose herself.  “Lester has left.  He said you wanted to see me, so I’m on my way out to you now.”
    Mr. Diamond said, “I’m on my way out to you now . . .  what?”
    Huh? she thought.  And then she knew.
    “I’m on my way out to you now, sir . ”
    “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”
    “You aren’t waiting, Mr. Diamond,” Reese said.  “I’m right behind you.

 
    #
    DeMarco clicked his cell phone off.  What does a man have to do in order to get a refill around this place?  He’d let the staff go for the day, but he expected his assistant to be present and accounted for.  And why shouldn’t he?  After all, the only reason he’d even hired Reese Worthington was to keep an eye on her.  He’d made a promise to keep her safe.  DeMarco wasn’t accustomed to being in the position of owing people favors, but a friend had covered his ass once, and now it was time to repay that debt.
    “Mr. Diamond.”
    DeMarco sighed.  Would it have been too much to ask her to stand in front of him?  Didn’t she know it was dangerous to stand behind a man like him?  It was unusual for him to relax and DeMarco was ready to use his Krav Maga skills at a moment’s notice.  A man like him had to be prepared for anything.  But when he turned around on the chaise lounge to get a better look at his old friend’s little niece, he quickly realized that he was prepared for anything  . . . except her.
    When Mitchell kept referring to her as his little niece, DeMarco expected her to be about eighteen, given Mitchell’s age.  In fact, the woman was young, but not quite that young.  Beneath the ill-fitting suit and cheap shoes, he imagined that she had quite a body on her.  But