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Yeah, he had experience with disguises. He’d spent months traveling along foreign borders dressed to blend in with the tribal warlords. He’d learned to mask his Italian features and walk, talk, and dress like the militants he’d been sent to take out under the cover of night. He’d snuck into their homes, looking like he was one of them, and wiped them out…
But this wasn’t the Middle East. And Chrissie Tate wasn’t on a mission to eradicate the people who wanted to attack America, Europe, and the innocent people in their own damn countries. When she emerged from her room wearing another awful wig, he’d tell her to skip the costumes and focus on listening to the people hired to keep her safe.
The bedroom door opened and Chrissie stepped out. “What the—”
He’d had enough training to school his expression, but damn, for a second he thought his jaw would hit the floor alongside the expletive he’d nearly tossed out.
She froze just beyond the bedroom door. “What do you think?”
I should run for cover, because in that outfit, you’re launching one Hell of an attack.
He stared at the French maid getup that looked as if it had been purchased in a store that catered to male fantasies. The low-cut, sweetheart neckline would make it pretty damn hard to bend over and clean without her breasts slipping out. And while the corset around her slim waist accentuated her curves, he’d bet most hotel maids would find them uncomfortable.
“The store forgot to include the stockings and heels,” she murmured.
“And the rest of the skirt?” he asked, his gaze heading south. The bottom half of her outfit stopped short of covering her panties, never mind her bare legs.
“You don’t like
what they sent?” She turned around and offered him a view from the back.
Earlier, he’d run his hand over her backside while hoisting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. Now, he wanted to let his fingers roam under her skirt.
“I like it just fine,” he said. “But you might have a hard time blending in with the other maids.”
And I might have to kill any man who sees you like this.
Not that he had a claim on her. He was her bodyguard, not her boyfriend. But still…
“Ms. Tate,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. He wasn’t hauling ass out of here. Not a chance. Sure, he’d said no more flings. And he knew better than to get involved with the talent. But somewhere in the unwritten rules, there had to be an exclusion for sexy-as-sin French maid outfits.
“Chrissie,” she corrected.
He pushed himself off the couch and took a step forward. And she held her ground.
“Honey,” he said, because she was right. They’d moved past formalities. Still, he needed to be crystal clear. If she was toying with him, if this was her idea of punishment for the bodyguards she’d been clear she didn’t want watching her six, he needed to know before he moved another inch. “I need to know right now—what the hell are you doing?”
She inhaled and, for a second, he swore her breasts would spill over her top. Her cheeks turned pink, suggesting an innocence that was at odds with her outfit. “I want to find out if you meant what you said. If you can deliver perfection beyond kisses…”
Ah hell. His words were coming back to bite him. He should have held back this afternoon. Instead, he’d allowed her passionate insistence that she understood his drive to serve, that she was on his side, not his ex-wife’s, push him to toss out an invitation to cross the line between professional and personal.
“So, I’m…” she continued. “I’m, well, I’m seducing a SEAL.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Are you now?”
She nodded, and her fingers toyed with her skirt’s indecent hemline. “That’s my plan.”
Everything about her so-called plan sounded like trouble. But the part of him that craved the risk that went hand-in-hand with jumping out of helicopters into the rough, cold ocean waves while wearing enough gear to drown, the side of him that went into hostile territory and chatted up the targets before eliminating them…yeah, that part buried his logic and demanded that he sit his ass down.
He took a step back and sank into the seat. “And just how do you plan to seduce me?”
Chapter Six
Chrissie summoned the courage that had pushed her this far. The man who lost control when he kissed her sat on her couch, waiting for her next move. If she walked over to him…
Her legs started moving, carrying her closer. He leaned back, his legs splayed and his right arm resting on the side of the sofa. He looked calm and in control, while her nerves ran in circles firing off different instructions.
Jump him.
