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“They’re a really good band.”
The SUV picked up speed, and the streetlights flashed by.
“It’s a weird thing in the music biz,” Kassidy continued. “A singer can be good, and a band can be good, but the combination can really suck. Or, apart the two are decent, but together they’re fantastic. It’s like complementary smells. You put cinnamon and sugar together, it’s magic. Sage and butter, all good. But try sage and sugar, and it’s yucksville.”
Mila smiled at the analogy.
Kassidy covered her mouth with a yawn. “Do you like Gabby?”
“I do,” said Mila, having become used to Kassidy’s sudden changes in topic. The new nanny seemed very calm, very soft-spoken, but also very organized.
“What about Troy?” asked Kassidy.
Mila tensed. Why was Kassidy asking about Troy? Had Mila given herself away? She had tried to keep her emotions under wraps, been careful not to gaze at him, attempted to keep at least an arm’s length between them.
“What do you mean?” she asked cautiously.
“Do you think he likes Gabby?”
Gabby? Was Troy attracted to Gabby? Mila hadn’t even thought of that. Gabby was youngish, fairly attractive, not glamorous, more down-to-earth. Which was fine. There was nothing wrong with being down-to-earth.
“In what way?” Mila asked.
Kassidy stared at her for a moment. “As a nanny.”
“Oh.”
“What did you think I meant?”
“That’s what I thought you meant.”
“Did you think I meant like, like?”
“No, no.” Mila determinedly shook her head.
“I don’t think Gabby is at all Troy’s type. He’s always been, well, a player, really. He likes women tall and blonde, with long legs and high heels and fashions straight off a Paris runway.”
Mila didn’t care. She truly didn’t care what the heck Troy liked in women. The farther she was from his type, the better. Though he had seemed to like kissing her. So, well, he wasn’t completely immune to her as a woman.
Not that she wanted him to see her as a woman. She wanted him to see her as a security agent. No more, no less. That was all she wanted.
“Wait a minute,” said Kassidy, a trace of excitement in her voice. “Are you interested in—”
“No!” Mila realized her protest was too quick and too sharp. “No. I work for him. That’s all. Nothing more.” She needed to get this right. “Hey, would I dress like this if I wanted him to notice me as a woman?”
Kassidy seemed to give it some thought. “Good point. Those boots? Wow. Give me a break.”
Mila couldn’t help but glance down at her feet.
She should have felt relieved, but she couldn’t stop a twinge of disappointment. They were work boots, that was all. She had to dress sensibly to do her job. Surely Troy understood that.
Then she realized she was acting as though she cared. She didn’t. Troy’s opinion of her as a woman was completely irrelevant.
* * *
Mila finished her tradecraft exam with thirty seconds to spare. She clicked the done button and a scroll bar appeared at the bottom of the screen, counting off the time while the machine calculated her score.
The door to the small meeting room opened and Troy walked in, shutting it behind him.
He leaned against it. “Vegas says you downplayed the risks last night.”
The scroll bar was 20 percent done. In about two minutes, she’d know her score on the exam.
“I didn’t downplay anything,” she said, dragging her gaze from the screen to Troy. “You wouldn’t listen to me.”
“You want to blame the boss?”
“I want to acknowledge the truth.” She glanced back to the screen. Forty-seven percent done.
He moved toward her. “The truth is Kassidy was accosted last night.”
“It was a fan taking a selfie.” Mila stood so he wouldn’t tower over her.
“We’re putting together a formal protection plan.”
“Great idea, Troy,” she drawled. “Too bad nobody thought of it earlier.”
He leaned in. “Do it. Say, ‘I told you so.’”
“To the boss?” she finished for him before she could censor herself.
His blue eyes flared, and she immediately regretted the rash words.
“I’m sorry,” she offered. “That was out of line.”
“I have no idea what to do with you.”
Before she could answer, he continued, “But we are upping Kassidy’s protection. Vegas is going to take point.”
“What?” Mila voiced her shock. “Wait. No. Kassidy is my detail.”
“You’re contradicting me.”
“Yes.”
“You have to be the most insubordinate person I have ever met.”
She struggled to keep her temper in check. He was marginalizing her. He was marginalizing her solely because she was a woman.
“Don’t do it,” she told him, determined not to be replaced by Vegas.
He eased closer, his gaze searching hers, his hand just barely brushing her forearm.
“Don’t do what?” His voice had dropped to a whisper.
He’d deliberately switched topics, and her attraction stirred. Oh, no. This was bad.
His blue eyes softened, and his full lips parted.
She felt a zip of reaction right down to her toes. The kiss was coming. She could taste it on her lips and feel it in her chest, hot and heavy, a demand that had to be satisfied.
Her hands twitched. She ordered herself to push him away. She could do it. She could have him flat on his back before he saw it coming. But instead she touched his arm, feeling the steel of his biceps, the heat of his skin, the brush of his T-shirt sleeve.
His lips were on hers in a second. His hand splayed at the base of her spine, jerking her forward. She arched against him, tipping her chin, parting her lips, catapulting into instant paradise.
Man, he was a good kisser. The pressure was right, the angle was perfect and he tasted fantastic. Her hands tightened on his arms, anchoring herself while the world began to spin faster.
“This is ridiculous.” Vegas’s voice was like a splash of cold water.
Mila jerked back, but Troy kept her hips plastered to him.
“You’re adults. If you want to do it, just—”
“We don’t,” Mila barked, feeling her face heat.
“—get it over with,” said Vegas.
“We don’t,” Mila repeated, breaking Troy’s hold and stepping away.
“Whatever.” Vegas shook his head in obvious exasperation and moved to the computer.
Mila didn’t dare look at Troy.
“You got ninety-eight,” said Vegas.
She immediately perked up. “On the exam?”
“I sure wasn’t grading you on the kiss.” Vegas turned the screen toward her.
She took in the score and smiled. “Is that good? It has to be good.”
“That’s four questions wrong,” said Troy.
“How do people usually do?” she asked.
“It’s good,” said Vegas.
“You’re fine on theory,” said Troy.
“And on planning,” she felt compelled to add. “And in the field, and in reporting and analysis.”
“When’s Kassidy’s next performance?” Troy asked.
His demeanor had switched to professional, remote. She told herself she was glad.
“Thursday,” she answered. “Four days.”
“I’ll need your report by tonight.”
She gave him a nod. “The mention of Drake is my biggest worry.”
As far as Mila was concerned, that took the potential threat to a whole new level. Whoever MeMyHeart was had researched Kassidy’s personal life and was trying to connect with her on a far more intimate level.
“I’m thinking three of us,” she continued, speaking to Troy. “One outside, me backstage and one in the crowd.”
“Vegas can—”
“I don’t need Vegas,” she interrupted.
Troy’s eyes flared with obvious displeasure.
“Vegas can vet the plan, but he doesn’t need to be on-site,” she said.
Troy looked to Vegas.
“The guy wants to get close to her,” said Mila. “He probably wants to date her. There’s nothing to indicate he wants to do her harm. You’ve gone from zero to sixty in a heartbeat.”
“You two work it out,” said Vegas, backing toward the door. “I’ll be in the control room, watching Prince Matin buy a new yacht.”
“You don’t get to dictate your own job,” Troy said to Mila as the door closed behind Vegas.
“I can make recommendations.” Mila didn’t want to push too far, but if she was shoved aside, she’d never be able to prove her worth. “Do other security agents make recommendations?”
Troy didn’t answer.
She struggled to come up with a convincing argument. “Try this. Close your eyes and pretend I’m a man.”
