Instructing an Heiress (21 page)

"That is enough!" she said, her throat tightening with every word.
 

Much to her surprise, the dog jumped down and backed away a few paces, tail still waving like a flag. They studied each other for a moment and then the dog gave a happy yip and started for her again.

"No," Piper said in the firm tone she occasionally had to use on one of her Ladies. "Your behavior is not acceptable."

The dog stopped.

"You will not treat haute couture so disrespectfully, young..." she hesitated, trying to get a bead on the dog's gender. No luck. Too much fluff.

She pointed her forefinger at the animal. "Young
dog
," she concluded haughtily. "And wipe that smile off your face."

The animal gave another sharp, happy bark and sat down, its tail sweeping across the dirt.

She narrowed her gaze at it. "I hope your master has better manners than you."

"Don't count on it," a smooth, radio-worthy male voice said behind her.

"Gah!" Jumping, Piper spun around and came face-to-face with a strong throat and broad, muscular, very naked chest. She sucked in a gasp of surprise and a heady, outdoorsy male scent swept into her, scrambling her thoughts instantly.
 

Mesmerized, her gaze drifted down to well-worn jeans riding low over narrow hips, long legs, scuffed cowboy boots, and back up past mouth-watering abs to the smooth, tanned perfection of a gorgeous chest. Places deep inside her went hot and wet and her knees wobbled a bit.
 

She swallowed and willed herself to meet the cool, gold-brown eyes gazing at her with disapproval. He was no more than thirty and a little over six feet she'd guess. His hair was the color of dark chocolate and shagged across his forehead and around his sharp cheekbones before falling almost to his shoulders. Just in front of his left ear, a thin white scar tracked down to the wedge of his jaw, making him look dangerous and...piratey.

Wow
.
 

Her heartbeat accelerated and she licked her lips. "Um...Alex Jensen?"

"Maybe."
 

"Bodyguard?" she asked, her voice cracking.

He narrowed his eyes. "Occasionally."

Her gaze tracked over his gorgeous body again. She couldn't help herself.

"What kind of guarding did you have in mind? Exactly."

His voice flowed over her like honey and she blinked, struggling to focus. Nothing stoked her stove like a smooth bedroom voice.
 

"Why aren't you bald and fat?" she blurted out, attempting to distract herself from a situation that was quickly deteriorating into a lovely fantasy.

A sparkle of humor warmed the frost in his gaze. "Come back in thirty years."

She did another body check. "Hard to imagine."
 

"You never know. I could let myself go." He quirked a dark brow at her. "Why are you here?"

"Hmmm? Oh." The enjoyment of flirting with him died suddenly as the annoyance of her problem flooded over her in painful detail. "You were recommended to me as a bodyguard who had some investigating experience. I could use both."

His expression turned distant. "Sorry. I'm busy." He turned away from her and headed toward the barn. The black dog trotted after him. The brown and white hound jumped off the porch and joined them.

Shocked amazement froze her to the spot. Had he just turned his back on her and walked away?

She watched the corded muscles along his back bunch with every step. Dropping her point of study, she momentarily appreciated the way his jeans cupped the tight contours of his butt.
 

He was one-hundred percent distracting, no question, but men
never
blew her off. Especially not a bite-able pirate.

"Uncle Theo said you were the best," she called after him.

He kept walking, drat him.

Shifting her weight to her other foot, Piper considered her options. She hesitated to throw down the ace she'd been told to use.
 

It sounded weird and didn't make a drop of sense. Almost like a code, which was completely ridiculous. Maybe this guy was a movie buff and it was some kind of inside joke between him and Uncle Theo?
 

Her panic thickened as Mr. Jensen closed in on the barn. In these particular shoes she didn't have a chance of catching him. Grass and dirt and heels this high did not mix well.

She took a deep breath and ignored the tingling at the back of her neck. "He said to tell you 'the zombies are back!'" she shouted.

He stopped and went utterly still. The dogs at his heel looked at him and whined, their tails drooping.

Something about the set of his shoulders sent a sudden spike of fear into her stomach. Piper took an instinctive step back as he slowly turned around. Even from several yards away she could see the stormy anger on his face. He strode back toward her, his long legs eating up the distance in seconds.

He halted only inches away, the salty, male scent of him wrapping around her like a fist. "What did you say?" he growled.

She held his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. "You heard me."

"Say it," he ordered.

Every inch of her simmered with awareness and she wasn't sure if she wanted to jump him or scream and faint. She pressed her back against the cool metal of the car, hoping to get a little breathing room.

"He said...to tell you...that the zombies are back? I don't know what that means. He said you'd know."
 

"Uncle Theo did," he stated.

She nodded.

"Who the hell is he?"

"My godfather?" she answered, her voice rising with the tension ramping up along her nerves.

"You're not sure?"

Piper ran her tongue over her lips and tried to swallow. Her mouth felt like the Sahara. "Theodore Vernon is my godfather. Ted. Most people call him Ted."

He stared at her for a moment and then ground out a harsh curse. A dangerous intensity rippled off of him like heat waves as his gaze traveled over her. She had the disconcerting impression that if anyone asked, he'd be able to accurately tell her weight, height, and bra size. Maybe even what she'd had for lunch.
 

Piper felt a blush spread over her cheeks, which was a rare and disconcerting experience. She hadn't blushed over a guy for years. She didn't know whether to be fascinated or resentful.

His chest expanded and he released a long, slow breath. The antagonism seemed to leak out of him, settling into a wary tension that was somehow less comforting than his irritation had been.

"You'd better come in." With a final once-over, he ordered the dogs to stay outside, then turned and stalked toward the house.
 

Piper had never felt so intimidated by a man in her life—or so intrigued. He was dangerous, she was sure of it. But was he a danger to her? He was also unpredictable, possibly volatile, and uncomfortably observant.
 

She didn't trust him for a minute. Despite that unsettling fact, she had to admit that he'd make one heck of a bodyguard and probably an even better investigator.
If
she wanted to hire him.
 

All things considered, she was sure employing this guy would be a bad idea. Of course, feeling obligated to make good decisions that kept life safe and predictable was more Danni's thing, than hers.

Being true to oneself was a personal philosophy of hers.

She followed him.

*
 
*
 
*

Ted had pulled the zombie card.
 

Alex still had three days left on his vacation. Why did his director release the emergency call-in code for a new recruit to use? It didn't make sense.
 

Alex watched the woman delicately pick her way toward one of his better chairs. She lowered herself gingerly to the edge, crossed her long, sleek legs demurely and gave him an expectant look.

She was magnificently beautiful; classy, even with the muddy paw prints all over her. The kind of woman men dreamed about, but few got. The kind you see in movies and magazines. The sheltered, spoiled kind.

In looks, the perfect recruit for the under-the-radar, government branch known only as Department 23. In experience, not so much.

She looked just shy of five-five, after accounting for the impractical, strappy shoes she wore. The sleeveless dress incasing her perfect figure was the same bright shade of red as the polish on her toes and the lipstick on her sexy, cupid-bow mouth. She not only paid attention to detail, but was vain about her looks.

The ruffle around the modest neckline and small bow at the waist gave her a girlish air, which seemed at odds with the confident way she carried herself. Added together, he'd peg her age at late-twenties, though most people probably thought she was younger.

Her silky straight, caramel-blonde hair bounced just below her ears, curving in a bit to frame a round face and showcase her delicate features and summer green, see-into-your-soul eyes.
 

She didn't look like she'd care to associate with terrorists and criminals. She was too fresh, too new, too good at making the front of his jeans feel three sizes smaller every time he looked at her. But she'd used the code.
 

Alex smelled a con.
 

His team had never dared to play one of their jokes on him before, but there was a first time for everything. He'd been on vacation for two weeks working on the ranch, maybe they missed him. Maybe they were just bored.
 

When he got his hands on them, he planned to make boredom seem like heaven.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Alex leaned against the doorframe that led to the kitchen and gave her his sternest look. "What's your name and why did Ted send you?"

She brushed at the mud on her skirt before giving him an assessing look. Her gaze tracked across his chest adding at least another half inch to his full salute. "I admit that the view is impressive, but it's hard to focus on business with you standing there half dressed."
 

"Depends on the business," he drawled.

She pursed her lips as her darker blonde brows arched up. "That's a little too fast even for me, Mr. Jensen."

"Name," he demanded.

"Shirt." She held his gaze steadily.
 

Alex waited, letting the silence thicken between them. In his experience, few people could stand for a conversation to stall to nothing.
 

Her cheeks slowly turned pink. "Piper Roseland," she finally said, a tight undertone of annoyance in her voice.

He'd never heard of her, so he watched a moment longer before pushing away from the doorframe. "Wait here."
 

Cutting across his small living room, he ambled down the short hall to the master bedroom, a generous title considering the reality of the cluttered eleven-by-eleven room. A moment later, he came out wearing his favorite Rolling Stones
T-shirt.

When she didn't notice his return, he paused in the hall, noting her preoccupation with the living room and the way her small, classic nose had scrunched up with disapproval. Tracking the direction of her gaze, he saw his house through her eyes. It wasn't pretty.

Piles of clutter filled the corners, the couch had a big gash where Nipper had chewed on it, many of the books and folders stacked on the tables had a respectable layer of dust, and there were more than a few dirty coffee mugs sitting around.
 

The only part of the living room that wasn't old and ratty was the forty-inch flat screen over the fireplace.
 

Something that felt like embarrassment heated his gut at the sight of this stunning woman sitting in the middle of his dirt. When had he become such a slob? No wonder Amy hesitated to send Jessica to him for the summer.

He moved out of the shadows and she tensed, looking suddenly toward the hall. Her gaze flickered over him and she relaxed a little. "Thanks."
 

Sauntering past her chair, he took up his post by the kitchen.

"Would you mind sitting down? I'm getting a cramp in my neck," she said.

"You're full of orders, you know that?"

"And you're really tall."

"It's my house. State your business and be on your way."

"I don't understand why Uncle Theo thinks so highly of you. My impression so far puts your personality somewhere between unpleasant and horrifying."

"Don't forget impatient."
 

Her smooth jaw tightened. "I need a bodyguard and investigator. I'll pay you twenty-thousand dollars if you take the job."

The outrageous amount moved his assessment of the situation solidly into the let's-try-and-get-one-over-on-the-boss category. The only question was if both of them were the intended victims, or just him.

He kept his expression neutral and held his gaze steadily on the girl. "That's a helluva lot of money."

"My baby's a helluva car. Custom-painted turquoise with white trim."
 

"And you want me to guard it?" he asked flatly. Who painted their car turquoise? Alex would bet a case of beer that Neil was behind this. The guy had no sense of boundaries. He'd prank the President if he ever got the chance.
 

"I want you to guard everything, Mr. Jensen. Me, my family, my car, whatever's needed."

"That's a pretty broad job description."

"Thirty thousand, then."
 

Gorgeous woman, ridiculous assignment, imaginary money—definitely Neil. It didn't even surprise him that the guy had ferreted out his and Ted's code phrase. Finding info that wasn't meant to be found was one of his specialties.

"There's one other thing," she said, a frown of worry skating across her face. She opened her purse and pulled out a neatly folded piece of paper. "This was left on the car. That's never happened before."

Alex took the paper. "Next time it might be the brakes," he read aloud. "Stop interfering in people's lives." He handed it back to her.
 

"What do you think?"

"Whoever wrote this can't spell. 'Interfering' only has one 'e' after the 'f.'"