Page 1 of Forced Proximity

Chapter 1

Lexi

If my name isn’t called out soon, someone’s likely to get a spinning back kick to their ear.

Okay, fine, I’ll never actually kick anyone who doesn’t deserve it. And even though I’ve reached peak irritation level today, my boss Marcus Bishop – one of the few humans that I both like and who can take me down in a fight – doesn’t deserve my fury.

But I’ve paced through the terrible diamond-patterned carpet outside of Marcus’s office for so long that the threads are fraying. Sure, I might be Lexi Morgan, a.k.a. ‘Doc’, Executive Protection Specialist at Bishop Security Services – one of the most elite security firms in the country. But I’m also Lexi Morgan, the most impatient person alive on Assignment Day.

Today, I’d woken up with a rare extra zing in my step and rushed to the office before the LA sun broke through the smog. Because Assignment Day is the day I learn of my next job, the best damn day of them all. The anticipation rivals playing a slot machine. Will I be sent to Paris, Miami, maybe the diplomatic convention in New York? Who will I protect? Perhaps a prime minister, maybe Harry and Meghan or a billionaire philanthropist? The possibilities are endless.

Instead of respecting the time-honored tradition of hurrying the hell up in giving me said assignment, Marcus is taking his sweet ass time doing God knows what behind his closed office door.

‘Doc,’ Marcus calls out, his baritone voice booming through the wall. ‘Stop tracking dirty footprints all over my floor or I’ll make you spend a day training the new recruits on how to sanitize the gym equipment.’

Whatever.

‘I’ve got a job for you,’ he says.

Yes! I pivot and damn near bounce into his office. Sub-zero air conditioning blasts my face, and goosebumps skitter up my arms. Jesus. It’s like a polar ice-plunge bath in here. Great for sore muscles after a grueling sparring session. Not great for 9 a.m. on a Monday when I’ve barely finished my second cup of coffee.

Inside, I chuck my empty coffee cup into the trash can at least ten feet away, holding a firm, follow-through arm like I’m back on the basketball court. After The Incident four years ago, a solid month passed where I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to shoot baskets again, much less other things. The scar on my shoulder faded, but the damage to my psyche will stay forever.

Careful not to knock over Marcus’s precisely placed framed photos and his sad little single bonsai tree, I rub my palms together, grab the file from his desk, and plunk down in the oversized leather chair. I cannot wait to see where he’s putting me. We’ve been talking about me joining a covert assignment in Spain with a world-famous hacker team determined to stop a human trafficking ring. If this is that assignment, Marcus might actually get a hug.

I don’t do hugs.

My lips are dangerously close to twitching into a smile as I scan the file contents. And then drop equally as fast. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. ‘Nope. Absolutely not.’ I slap the folder on the table. ‘Justin Greenwood? The actor? You cannot be serious.’

Marcus lifts a brow. ‘I’m very serious. What’s wrong with him?’

What’s wrong with him? How about a million and one things. Has Marcus ever once indulged in reading a single gossip article? Sure, it’s not my usual fodder, but I’d have to be living under a rock to not know about Justin Greenwood’s reputation. A string of hit movies. Linked with every single co-star. Notoriously dick-ish on the red carpet. Not that long ago, I saw a video of him tearing into some fan who had the audacity to ask for his autograph. Justin had literally got in this guy’s face and started shoving, even though he outweighed the guy and outmuscled him by a good fifty pounds. Had Marcus done the smallest due diligence in researching this client, he’d know pairing me with a guy like Justin is a terrible idea.

‘He’s grotesque,’ I finally say.

‘Oh, come on, Doc. He’s far from grotesque.’ Marcus’s deep-brown eyes crinkle at the edge. ‘In fact, he’s quite easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself.’

I’m two seconds away from wiping off that smirk. Who cares if this Justin guy is cute if he sucks as a human? ‘That’s not what I meant.’ I exhale a sharp breath. ‘You remember the tornado fundraiser event from five years ago, right?’

Marcus gives me a blank stare.

Seriously?

It’s like Marcus’s husband’s famous homemade blackberry jelly – which Marcus is notoriously stingy about sharing – slid into his ear, stuck and affected his memory. I’ve told him this story multiple times because I was so livid. Even thinking about it now makes the back of my neck flush hot.

A devastating tornado had ransacked the Midwest. One colossal gust of wind that lasted no more than a few minutes destroyed homes, farms and people’s livelihoods. The aftermath left nothing but broken dreams and struggling communities. Thankfully my parents’ farm in Minnesota was spared, but I saw myself in these families, and my heart broke for the communities. I helped fundraise; spoke to anyone who would listen about the devastation; I called and emailed government officials. I took several weeks off work to help clean and rebuild and saw firsthand the limited help these families were given. A fundraiser was planned in Chicago to raise money for the displaced people, and I volunteered to do security at the event. When I heard Justin Greenwood decided to headline, I thought this was the answer to the community’s prayers – a Hollywood star like Justin putting their name behind an event like this truly could change these people’s lives.

I didn’t know a lot about Justin at the time, except that he seemed like a jerk. But this … this was a redemption moment. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. With his name backing the event, other Hollywood folks put their names behind it, too. I had so much hope this would be the bridge that saved these families when the other funds were held up by red tape. But two weeks before the fundraiser, he pulled out, with not even so much as an apology, writing a check, or making a social media reel where to direct funds. Nothing. Pretty sure the official reason was ‘personal issues’ or some bullshit like that, but later I saw paparazzi photos of him in Hawaii the week of the event. With him being the biggest name there, the dominos fell, and other big names followed. The event ended up being headlined by some struggling comedian who bombed, and the fundraiser raised a quarter of the amount they’d been expecting.

If his whole persona didn’t make me hate him already, this event did.

After I remind Marcus of this, again, he sits like a statue. I’m not even sure he’s blinking.

‘Okay, so a few years ago he couldn’t attend this event. These things happen,’ Marcus finally says. ‘Never like you to hold a grudge.’

I fight the deep urge to roll my eyes like a twelve-year-old because he’s absolutely right. ‘Have you ever seen this guy on the red carpet? He’s a cocky, egotistical ass.’ I fold my arms. ‘Did you see his Tonight Show interview like two years ago that went viral because he was such an arrogant prick? This is Hollywood. Do you know how bad you have to be to have something like that go viral?’

Marcus taps his fingers against his desk, his wedding band tinkling against the wood. ‘You’ve dealt with arrogance before.’