Hidden Heat: Hauberk Protection, Book 4 (5 page)

As the stereo serenaded them with a piano and violin sonata by Bach—or perhaps Mozart, she couldn’t tell the difference—she pondered the speculations as to his background, the questions about the trace of Irish accent that appeared at random times. Jazz had speculated that maybe he’d been raised there—

“Shoot.”

He glanced sharply at her. “What? Did you forget something at the bar?”

“I forgot to tell my roommate I was leaving.” She scrambled through the contents of her purse, searching for her cell phone. “Damn it, my phone’s dead.”

“Were you her ride?”

“No, she drove, but she’ll worry if she can’t find me.”

He shifted in his seat and pulled his cell from its holster on his hip. “Here, use mine. Do you know her number?”

“Thanks. I’ll just text her, so I don’t interrupt her if she’s hooked up with someone.” She composed a quick note and hit send before handing him back the phone.

Four blocks later, he glanced at her. “Are you hungry?”

Startled, she nodded before she thought.

“Good.” He flipped on the signal light and pulled into another parking lot, this time beside an upscale restaurant. The type with a valet who took a good long look at her legs when he helped her from the car.

“Eyes up, mate,” Troy practically growled, a territorial claim that secretly thrilled her. He laced his fingers with hers. “Shall we?”

The door opened to muted voices mingling with the sounds of cutlery on china, all accompanied by a string quartet at the far end. The maître d’ greeted Troy by name and led them through the half-filled dining area. Once they were seated, Sandy opened her menu but studied the man across from her instead. Other than the Christmas party the year before, she’d never been around him outside of the office. She hadn’t missed the heads turning when they’d walked in. It hadn’t been her the restaurant patrons had noticed. He had a presence about him, one of confidence along with a hint of danger. Even though he was dressed in jeans and a cotton shirt where most of the other men wore high-powered business suits, Troy fit in.

He glanced at his menu for a minute before meeting her gaze. “So why did you tell that jerk your name was McPherson?”

“I always use a bar name. Just to be on the safe side.”

“It’s a good idea, but why McPherson?”

“Because you were…” She stopped herself from admitting it had been him she’d been thinking of, substituting, “the first person I saw when I was trying to come up with a name. I didn’t figure you’d mind.”

“I don’t.” A furrow marred his forehead. “You were leaving with him.”

Was he asking if she was going home with Mitch? Going to sleep with him? Why was that any of his business? Unless…no, he couldn’t be jealous. Could he?

“He was a nice guy who spent most of this evening listening to me babble on about Hauberk. He wasn’t a serial killer or anything.”

“You’re too trusting. For all you know he was plotting to get you out into the parking lot, shove you into his car and abduct you. Promise me you won’t take that type of chance again.”

She couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling at his overprotective tone. “So what should I have done? Told him I didn’t trust him and he needed to wait while I fetched my big, bad bodyguard to protect poor little old me? Believe it or not, I can protect myself.”

“What would you have done?” He sat back in his chair and grimaced. “Because there’s no way you could have run from him in those damned shoes.”

“I keep a Taser in my purse. I would have used it, kicked off my heels and run back into the bar, screaming the whole time.”

“A Taser? Well, that’s something I guess, but I hope to bloody hell you don’t take that into D.C. with any of your dates. They’ll throw your pretty little behind in jail.”

What was it with guys thinking she was an idiot? Of course she knew about D.C.’s laws. “Look, you’re not my father or my brother. And you’re not my boyfriend, or my husband as you let him think. So what’s with the twenty questions? What difference is it to you who I go home with?”

He hesitated for a second. “I’m an expert in security. I’ve been trained by the best to keep people safe. I’ve seen too many women get badly hurt because they trusted someone they shouldn’t have.” He dropped his gaze for a second. “I didn’t want to go into the office tomorrow to discover you’d been raped. Or worse.”

His answer didn’t surprise her, but the disappointment she felt did. He’d been analyzing the situation as part of his job when she’d hoped he’d been jealous. “I appreciate that. I guess. But I’m a big girl. I know how to look after myself.”

“You’re no girl, Sandy.” He leaned forward, his voice husky. “You’re a beautiful woman. And dressed the way you are now, it’s enough to drive any man crazy with lust.”

“Not you,” she muttered.

“Yes. Even me.”

The arrival of their waiter forced her to wait until they’d finished ordering to ask for an explanation of that bombshell. Once they were alone again, she asked, “So am I to look at this as a date? Or a business meeting, with you advising a potential client about security risks?”

“Which would you prefer?’

She started to answer but was interrupted by the waiter who had returned with the wine Troy had ordered. Frustrated, she tapped her foot until the waiter finished pouring. As soon as the waiter had taken two steps away, she folded her arms across her chest and glared at Troy. The hell on playing coy and all these stupid games. “I don’t know what to think. Considering the kiss you gave me earlier, I guess it’s possible you see it as a date. But, for all I know, you’re using me as a smoke screen as a way to stay in the closet.”

Okay, it was a low blow but hell, he was so freaking confusing.

Troy lowered the wineglass, his jaw dropping, his eyes wide. “I beg your pardon? Do you mind explaining how you came to that conclusion?”

“You’ve never once mentioned being on a date with a woman that anyone can remember. You always find a way to back out of going to any parties that might require a date. Not to mention that Scott’s been living with you ever since he got back from Colombia. What else are people to think?” Okay, so it was pretty thin in the telling but the thought had crossed her mind.

“I don’t talk about my dates because I don’t like bringing my personal life into my job—it’s a bad idea on too many fronts. And right back at you, by the way. I don’t like going to parties because I can’t abide small talk.” His lips had firmed, and his words were clipped. The hint of Irish accent that came and went thickened.

“As for Scott, not that it’s anyone’s business, but he has no family to rely on, and since I didn’t like sending him back to his flat in London where he might be tempted to eat the end of his gun, I invited him to stay with me until he got back on his feet.” He stared across the restaurant to the entrance to the kitchen and swore beneath his breath, anger radiating from him.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just…you confuse me. You’ve never given me any sign in the office that you’re even aware I’m anything more than a piece of furniture.”

His head swiveled back, his gaze as piercing as a hawk’s. “Oh, I’m aware of you. You can count on it. But it’s safer if I keep my distance.”

Safer how? By not making her a target in case one of the baddies his type went after decided to go after someone he cared about? Or was he one of those egotistical assholes who thought every woman he met would swoon at his feet for him to ravish? “Safer? For who?”

“Safer for you.” The unblinking gaze didn’t relent, making her sympathize with the criminals caught in his sights.

A shadow fell across Troy’s face as another diner stopped beside their table, a much younger woman at his side. Troy got to his feet and shook the man’s hand. “Senator Brannally, how are you, sir?”

“Fine as always. Please sit.” From the way the senator greeted Troy, not just with his trademark smile but also how he clapped his hand on Troy’s shoulder once he’d resumed his seat, Sandy realized this was not a casual acquaintance but a dear friend. She knew Sam had friends in high places, but she’d never realized Troy did too. “I just thought I’d drop by and say hello. I was going to have my assistant phone you tomorrow, but since you’re here—I understand Senator Hirst has hired your firm to provide extra security for his wife’s birthday party at the Hay Adams next week. Will you be there?”

“That’s part of the D.C. office’s responsibility so no, I have no plans.”

“Pity.” His gaze wandered to Sandy, lingering, she swore, on her cleavage.

Troy followed the Senator’s gaze. “Senator Brannally, may I introduce you to Sandra Hallquist.”

Hmm, that was interesting. Not my assistant or my secretary as Sam had once mistakenly referred to her.

“Miss Hallquist.” The senator nodded his head before returning his attention to Troy. “Have you decided to stay in D.C. permanently?”

“Semi-permanently. The head of the D.C. office has been out of town so I’ve been covering for him.”

“We should get together one night. I’d like to hear what you’re up to. Give you some ideas for the future.”

The Senator persisted until Troy agreed to join him for dinner the following week before excusing himself. Sandy waited until he was out of sight before raising an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the circles you guys run in. Movie stars, senators…” She brushed her bangs from her eyes. “He’s not a client, is he?”

Troy placed his napkin back on his lap. “No. He was in Ireland when my parents died and my mother’s brother, who lived in his district, asked him to intervene with the Irish authorities and bring me back to the States. When my uncle died, he became my guardian and paid for my room and board at the Academy where I went to school, and when I decided to go into the Diplomatic Service he put in a good word for me. He’s kept an eye on my career ever since.”

“That was nice of him.” On impulse she reached across the table and laid her hand on his. Something flared in his eyes; with a simple movement he reversed the position of their hands.

“Yes, it was.” His thumb stroked the fleshy part of her palm, light strokes up and down, soothing and yet her body quivered at the simple touch. “This is nice too.”

His thumb began making circles on the inner flesh of her wrist. Who knew that part of her hand could be an erogenous zone? None of her other boyfriends had made that connection before. She pressed her thighs together at the promise in his words. From the heat in his expression, this was most definitely a date.

Not trusting her voice, she nodded. Only when the waiter arrived with their food did Troy release her. The rest of the meal he found whatever excuse he could to touch her. Reaching for the salt, refilling her wineglass, handing her the dessert menu. Each time he touched her, his eyes locked on hers.

“Taste this.” He held a spoonful of his crème brulee to her lips. Electricity zinged through her body, bouncing beneath her skin like a summer field filled with fireflies. His gaze locked on her lips, her tongue, as she cleaned the spoon with light licks. He lowered the spoon only to lift it, filled again, with yet another command to taste the creamy dessert. By the time they finished, every inch of her body was ready to spontaneously combust. The wait for the check seemed interminable and she found herself squirming, trying to find relief from the need he’d spawned.

Less than ten minutes after they’d pulled out of the restaurant’s parking lot, Troy parked the SUV by her apartment building’s front door. The hand he placed on the small of her back as they walked to the building firmed her resolve. It’s not that she’d never considered Troy
that way
before but now he was really here, touching her, and her body simmered with anticipation.

She waited until the elevator doors closed and then turned to face him. Reminding herself he’d already kissed her once, she curled her fingers around the collar of his coat and tugged him closer. With her stilettos, she was almost his height. All she had to do was tilt her face and press her lips against his. His body went rigid for a moment, then his lips parted and his tongue brushed hers.

Warmth quickly spread from his lips through the rest of her body, caressing and curling around her breasts until they were heavy, her nipples hard, weakening her knees. He slid his hands down her side and around to cup her backside. The heady scent of her arousal wafted between them, her panties dampening as he rocked his erection against her mound.

Intoxicated to be in his arms once again, to be under his control, Sandy lost herself in the kiss until the elevator bounced to a stop and the door slid open.

“This is your floor.” Though he’d broken the kiss, his hands didn’t move from their place on her ass.

“So it is.” Reluctantly, she stepped back and captured his hand before it dropped to his side. She led him down the hall, fumbling one-handed in her purse for her keys, afraid that if she let go of him he’d find an excuse to leave. The key turned in the lock and she pushed the door wide. There were no lights on, and Jazz’s boots weren’t in their usual place on the boot mat. Xander looked up from where he’d curled on the couch then dismissed them as unimportant.

To her disappointment, Troy attempted to extract his hand from hers. “I should go.”

“No,” she whispered. “You should stay.”

She stepped into her apartment and tugged. He resisted a moment, then took one step—only one—across the threshold before he stopped and shook his head. “This isn’t a good idea, Sandy.”