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That realization should have cooled him out, but instead, the muscles in Finn’s back tightened as he watched Santiago’s fingers twitch against Lauren’s barely-there white bikini bottom.
“No laughing,” the photographer barked as she moved in and clicked photo after photo. “Think about sex. Heat. Yes, good. You can’t keep your
hands off each other. You’re all alone. You’re ready to jump each other’s bones. Perfect. Hold that right there.”
Lauren’s smile died. She looked up at Santiago, closed her eyes and took a deep whiff, as if drawing him into her lungs and heart and soul. The muscles in her arms and shoulders flexed, her face took on a look of pure ecstasy. When she tipped her head to the side and the sun hit her just right, Finn was almost sure he heard her moan of pleasure. The same one he’d heard last night in his dreams.
“Yes, yes, perfect!” the photographer exclaimed. “Lauren, now open your mouth and ease up like you’re going to taste him. Wonderful.”
Santiago’s mouth opened and his fingers dug into Lauren’s hips. He pulled her tight against his groin. Her gasp of surprise was enough to kill the replay of Finn’s X-rated dream. He zeroed in on Santiago holding her too tight, too close, caught the way Lauren was trying to push the model away. Training kicked in. Finn’s body shifted in automatic response. His hand slid to his back where his Beretta was nestled against the base of his spine as he took a step forward in the sand.
“Wonderful,” the photographer said again, standing abruptly and lowering the camera. “I think we finally have what we need.”
Santiago let go of Lauren. She dropped down to her bare feet, eased away from the model. As she reached for a towel from her assistant, she shot the photographer a scathing look. Then her gaze landed on Finn, yards away, and she froze.
Ever so slowly, her shoulders relaxed and her lips curled in a sexy, Cheshire I dare you to do something about that grin that supercharged Finn’s blood all over again.
His skin tightened, and that X-rated dream popped back into his head, only this time they weren’t in a bed. She was bent over and he was behind her, thrusting hard, his body and hands and mouth drawing endless moans of pleasure straight from her succulent kiss-me lips.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself, trying like hell to dampen the arousal searing his veins in the sweltering heat. “She’s playing you, you bloody moron. She’s not real. She’s a model, for shit’s sake.”
The assistant handed Lauren a cold bottle of water an another did the same for Santiago. Around the perimeter of the photo shoot, the spectators who’d wandered out from their hotels clapped as if someone had just won a marathon. Three spring breakers, clad in nothing but swim trunks and sunburns, hollered at Lauren from the edge of the boundary.
She turned, shot them her famous sexy smirk and waved. Then she did the stupidest thing Finn could imagine. She brushed off her assistant and headed their way across the blistering sand.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Finn’s jaw clenched; his muscles tightened in response. The woman didn’t listen to a damn thing he told her—but why the hell was that a surprise? So far this week she hadn’t done a single thing he’d expected.
She stopped near the three college punks, perched one hand on her slim hip and tipped the water bottle from side to side with her other hand. All three losers laughed at something she said, then they stepped around her, boxing her in. The long-haired one, with muscles straight out of a steroid bottle, reached out to touch Lauren’s arm.
“Wrong move, dickhead.” Finn was across the beach in seconds, dropped the moron to the sand face-first in one move and swiveled back to see if the other two were stupid enough to jump to their friend’s assistance. Nope, they weren’t. As he secured the kid’s arms behind his back, both took a giant step away and held out their hands in surrender.
“Hey, man,” the tall one said. “Whoa.”
“Tierney!” Lauren grabbed him by the arm. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Finn ignored Lauren’s protest and wrenched the kid’s arm up higher on his back. Long-hair grunted in pain. “I think you boys have had yer fun for the day. This party’s over.”
“Tierney, you idiot,” Lauren said, this time whacking him in the arm with her water bottle. “He was just asking for an autograph. Let him go.”
Finn glared at Lauren, his frustration with this crappy assignment, the Latin model with the wandering hands, the asinine photographer, and most of all, her, reaching a crescendo. Those shithead Guatemalan drug lords were looking more appealing by the minute.
He glanced around, realized he had an audience and finally let the stupid college kid go. The boy rolled to his side and spit out a mouthful of sand, but at least he had the brains not to mouth off. He pushed up on his hands and knees. Coughed. When Lauren reached down to try to help him, he choked out, “No. No. That’s okay. I’m fine.”
“I am so sorry,” Lauren said as the boy stood and rubbed his arm. “Where are you staying? The least I can do is pay for your dinner tonight. I’ll have my driver take you wherever you want to go.”
Long hair fell over the kid’s right eye. He glanced at Lauren warily, then shifted his gaze to Finn. And yeah, Finn was right, the kid was smart. He caught the warning in two seconds flat. “No, that’s not necessary. I’m fine. See?” He lifted his arm, still not looking away from Finn, and waved it in the air. “No harm, no foul.” He turned to his friends. “C’mon, guys. Let’s make tracks.”
The three took off across the sand before Lauren could say something to stop them. Good riddance, Finn thought, watching them go. Though in his current mood, pounding the shit-for-brains threesome was still damn tempting.
Lauren turned to face him, perched both hands on her hips and glared. Hard. “If you ever do that again, you’re fired.”
Finn cut his gaze fro the beach to her. To her skimpy bikini that hid nothing from view, to her flat stomach, high breasts and perfect magazine-cover face. She didn’t have a clue what those three yahoos had been thinking when they’d boxed her in. Autographs? Like hell. Those three saw what every other guy on this beach with a dick saw. They saw sex on a stick, dangled out in front of them like candy in front of a baby.
He wanted to lay into her, to point out the obvious, but something held him back. He was her bodyguard, not her boyfriend or her brother or even someone she had any kind of relationship with other than professional. And though she didn’t have to take his advice, she did have to listen to him when it came to her security.
He ground his teeth and worked to stay professional. Which, dammit, normally came easy, except around her. Nothing was ever easy around her. “Yer not my boss, Ms. Kauffman. If you have a problem with my performance, call my employer.”
Fire flashed in her baby blues before he turned and spotted Mick Hedley, his partner on this shitty assignment, standing on the steps leading up to the Hotel Copacabana’s packed pool. Hedley was decked out in jeans and a stupid-looking tropical print buttondown, the ever present toothpick in the country boy’s mouth. He waved his typical way to go, dumbass salute, but Finn barely cared. He was done for the day. Way past done.
