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Every minute that ticked by eked away a little more of the horror that’d been her apartment experience. Sure, some creeps had trashed the place. And yeah, someone had been hauled out. But that didn’t mean the creeps had actually hurt someone. There were old people in the building. But Castillo had rushed her out so fast, spouting his conspiracy theory so convincingly, that she hadn’t verified a damned thing.
She made a show of eating, sneaking peeks at the man across from her every few seconds. If he was peeking at her, he had a lot of skill at hiding it. Instead, all of his attention was on his phone, reading whatever the hell was on there. Maybe more instructions on how to mess with her life.
Not gonna happen, Lara decided. She set the fork down, determined to take off at the first opportunity. Those goons might be something of a threat. But she figured Castillo was a bigger one. The goons might try to hurt her. But the gorgeous guy with dimples across from her? A guy with a mouth and hands like his could devastate her without any effort at all.
* * *
DOMINIC SCROLLED THROUGH his messages, putting all his focus on ignoring the woman sitting across from him.
He’d never blown a mission. And as much as he appreciated women in all their various forms of entertainment, he’d never let one interfere while he was on duty.
Hell, he couldn’t remember ever even thinking about one while he was in uniform. Maybe that was the problem—he was in civilian clothes and not officially on duty. Sure, his dog tags were hanging from his neck, but clearly they weren’t enough. Pursing his lips, he tapped a few keys on his phone, looking for a surplus store nearby. A camo tee, a cap, maybe they’d help.
Better yet, he could get a tent and wrap the sexy brunette in it. Maybe she’d be less tempting buried in yards of fabric.
Mocking that thought, his brain immediately went to a vision of Lara on stage, dancing in feathers and a few scraps of fabric. Long silky legs, her flat abs glittering and her lips glistening wet.
Those lips that tasted like sugar, addicting and delicious.
That body, a perfect fit against his with all her exquisite curves and tempting angles.
His body hardened, dick pressed painfully against his zipper. Hell, he’d barely kissed her. His hands hadn’t left her waist. But he was reacting as if she’d gone down on him while she was wearing thigh-high stiletto boots and glossy red lipstick.
Nope. He figured he could wrap her in a submarine and she’d still be pure temptation.
“Yo, soldier boy. I said this isn’t going to work for me,” Lara said.
Her irritated tone made Dominic want to grin, but he manfully held back.
“Sailor, actually.”
“What?”
“Navy. Sailor,” he pointed out, waiting for her to get it. He took her eye roll as understanding, then continued. “What d’ya need? I’ll take care of it for you.”
It was the least he could do, considering the varied sexual fantasies he was having about her.
“Privacy, for one.”
“You want the bedroom, I’ll hang here in the sitting area.” Wishing he’d popped for a bigger suite. One that had a bedroom door with a big lock.
“Why don’t you hang out in the hallway? Isn’t that what bodyguards do? Stand with their back to the door and glower at passersby?”
Dominic ruefully shook his head. Damned if he didn’t like her. Liking was okay, he decided. It was the lusting part that was off-limits.
“The bedroom is all yours,” he said again. Then, figuring he’d better make it clear to both of them since it was almost midnight, he went to the closet, grabbed the spare pillow and blanket and tossed them on the couch.
“You’re too tall to sleep comfortably on that,” she pointed out. He noted that she didn’t offer up the bed. Just as well, since he didn’t know how strong his resistance would be if she did.
“No worries,” he said with a shrug. “It pulls out into a bed.”
“Those are always miserably uncomfortable,” she said with a smile that said she didn’t care if he slept on a bed of nails. He didn’t bother telling her that a lumpy pullout, or a bed of nails, would be less uncomfortable than sleeping less than thirty feet from her.
He remembered that tiny scrap of silk knifed to her wall, then slanted a glance at her duffel. He hoped like hell she didn’t have more of those little babies with her. Just imagining her in one was going to cost him hours of sleep.
“I need internet,” she said, grabbing her duffel and heading for the bedroom. “I’m charging it to the room.”
“No email,” he warned automatically.
“I can conceal my location if I need to.” She shot him a look over her shoulder.
