Page 12 of Sasha’s Secret

Rocco couldn’t see any reason why he would need backup and said so. “Besides, who would you send?”

The smile made Nick’s eyes crease up with genuine humor. “Lucas Brand arrives tomorrow—I could always throw him in at the deep end. Having said that, I have some friends who might be able to help out if the shit really hits the fan. Have we covered everything?”

“I believe so.”

“Then I have one more question before I let you go.”

“Yes?”

“From a personal point of view, how’s your first day on the job been?”

Rocco shrugged. “Busy. Interesting. Relatively warm, even though everyone around here keeps telling me how cold it is.”

Nick nodded. “You’ll get used to the weather. Sounds like a pretty good start. If anything happens, night or day, and you need assistance, call me. Other than that, have a good evening.”

Rocco signed off. Now he could relax—as much as his training and experience ever did let him relax, whether on a mission or not. At least this one, for now, didn’t involve being shot at by some crazed lunatic with enough munitions to equip a battalion. And here, he could keep his firearm handy if he needed it. That was a big plus in the pro column for taking on this job.

A shower, something to eat, and then bed. It was a pity Sasha wouldn’t be sharing it with him, but a guy had to walk before he could run, and at the moment—to extend the metaphor—he hadn’t even begun to crawl.

Hazel eyes and frosted honey-blonde hair shimmered and took form in his mind. She’d truly captivated him—the process had started with the photo in her file, and today had only added fuel to the flames. He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he’d looked at her and had to rein in the impulse to take her in his arms and kiss her. Her mouth would be the death of him.

Rocco wandered out to the terrace and leaned against the wall that gave the area, with its serious-looking barbecue station, a measure of privacy. What he needed most right now was that shower, and the stall in the decadent bathroom was calling to him. Another plus for this gig. The enclosure would easily take two occupants—great for sexy times—but for now, he’d settle for a spray that would pound the tightness out of his shoulders.

The luxury of a few minutes under the powerful jets was all he needed. When he was done, Rocco dried off and wrapped a fresh towel around his hips, before heading back to the bedroom. In spite of his determination to clear it, his mind was already racing ahead to the next day, and the answers he wanted from the head of security at their meeting. The last thing he expected was a knock on the door.

Old habits died hard. Instantly on alert, he extracted the Glock from its holster and went to answer it. A swift look through the viewer revealed his unexpected visitor was a member of the household domestic staff—an armed response was probably a little over the top. Rocco laid his weapon carefully on the nearby table, ensuring it was still within reach if needed, before opening the door.

The young man greeted him with a dazzling smile. “Good evening, Mr. Equizi. My apologies for disturbing you, but Chef thought you might not have time to prepare dinner tonight.”

Which explained the cart off to one side. Rocco’s stomach rumbled in convenient agreement with Chef’s assumption. “Thank you. That’s… I appreciate it. Please thank Chef for me.”

“My pleasure… sir.” As he turned to leave, his speculative gaze raked Rocco from head to foot and back again, and the last thing Rocco was aware of was the entirely different kind of smile that appeared on his departing visitor’s face.

Rocco raised an eyebrow. At least one person was going to go to bed happy tonight.

An enticing aroma reached him from the covered dishes on the cart, and when he lifted the lid on the first one, he discovered a thick, perfectly grilled steak. And he would bet dollars to donuts that, beyond grilling it, Linzi’s Cordon Bleu import wasn’t the one responsible for its presence.

There was only one way to find out if he was right. He picked up his cell phone, brought up the number he’d made sure to acquire during the day, and touched the icon to make the call.

* * *

After a day that could best be described as “interesting”, the sound of the bath tub filling was especially soothing, as was the floral scent of the bath oil she’d added to the steaming water. Sasha rotated her shoulders, trying to release the aftereffects of her second encounter with Linzi that day. There were occasions when, if it hadn’t been for her sense of loyalty to her former supervisor, she’d have walked out on this job, and that had come perilously close to being one of them.

At least here, in the haven of her suite, she could relax and regroup. Tomorrow, Linzi would have forgotten all about her difference of opinion with Sasha… and Sasha would not let Rocco Equizi’s presence stir up a hornets’ nest of memories and impulsive desires again. He reminded her too much of what she’d lost, and many of the dangerous reasons why she’d walked away from her previous life.

You gotta get back on the horse sooner or later, sugar.

She could hear him say the words in that lazy drawl of his—Jack Ward, her former partner. All blond charisma and a perpetual smile that had charmed her into his bed with ease. They’d been great as a team and great in the sack together, and even though they’d both known what they had wasn’t the real-deal love-for-a-lifetime, they’d been more than merely friends with benefits.

And if it hadn’t been for him getting in the way of that bullet, she’d be the one in the ground, and her family would have been left to grieve, not his.

On that disastrous mission, the only saving grace had been their proximity to the exfil point, and the fact that extraction had been imminent. If it hadn’t been for the special forces team, her fate would probably have matched Jack’s. He’d lived long enough to know they’d made it to safety, but his wounds had been too severe for even a combat medic to prevent him from slipping away.

So why on earth did thinking about Rocco lead almost seamlessly to thoughts of the last man to grace her bed? Yeah, like it would take a genius to answer that one. Her brain was as dumb as her hormones. Both men, though physically very different, were devastatingly attractive, but while her attraction to Jack had been based on friendship and proximity, Rocco appealed in other, more basic ways that had nothing to do with either.

Physical need, for one. She’d stuffed that away in a dark corner, where it couldn’t encourage her to make bad choices. Consequently, her recent sex life would have made a nun proud. Now Rocco had come along, and suddenly she was in danger, the kind that had nothing to do with drug cartels and everything to do with what her rampant imagination was doing with him.

This had to stop. She was physically exhausted, but her mind was running a marathon. If she didn’t relax and unwind, she’d never get any sleep. Hopefully a long, hot soak in the tub would help.