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“Yer not my type.”
His words pinched something in her chest, but she ignored it. The way he was watching her, the way he couldn’t seem to look away, that belied whatever excuse he wanted to throw at her. That was what she needed to focus on.
She drew a deep whiff, pulled his scent into her lungs. God, he smelled good. Like musk and citrus and something spicy that set off an ache low in her belly. She moved a half step closer. “This isn’t about type. You’re not my usual type either, but I still want you.”
His eyes hardened, and his grip tightened until a slice of pain shot up her fingers. “I’m not yer latest boy toy, Ms. Kauffman. But even if I was, yer too skinny for my taste. I like my women to look like women, not teenaged boys.”
Her head snapped back, almost as if he’d hit her. He couldn’t know it, but he’d just touched on her biggest insecurity.
She told herself not to lose her cool. He was interested. She hadn’t misread the signs. For whatever reason, he wanted her to think he wasn’t. Maybe because she’d yelled at him out on the beach. Macho tough guys never much liked it when a woman had brains and attitude and didn’t put up with their crap.
Her temper resurfaced. “Fine. If we’re not staying in, then I’m going out. Seeing as how you’re my bodyguard, I suppose that means you’ll be tagging along.”
She turned away and headed back toward the bathroom, reaching for her cell phone on the table as she moved. She resisted the urge to pull her robe tight. Let him see what he was missing. She might be thin, but she had a body worth millions. And if he was too afraid to take a chance with her . . . well, two could suffer just as easily as one. “Be ready to go in an hour, Tierney.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She flipped the phone open, dialed, lifted it to her ear and said, “Javier? My headache mysteriously disappeared. Yeah, Palladium sounds fabulous.”
CHAPTER 2
The pounding bass gave Finn a fucking headache. The pulsing strobe lights messed with his equilibrium. But it was the woman out on Palladium’s dance floor, bumping and grinding and flirting with every shithead in the overcrowded club that grated on Finn’s last nerve.
Spring break was in full swing in Acapulco and the college crowd was packed to the rafters in the trendy nightclub perched high on a hill over the raging Pacific. Finn stayed on the edge of the dance floor, close enough to make a grab for Lauren if he had to, but far enough in the background to blend in. She was a celebrity in a meat market. Guys circled her like vultures. And every minute that passed—every elbow he took to the ribs and every steroid-enhanced moron who stepped on his feet—only jacked his badass mood higher.
Man, he was way too damn old for this scene.
Lauren threw her head back and laughed at something Santiago said. The dickwad grabbed her hand, pulled her close and dipped her on the dance floor. From his spot, Finn watched her golden hair flare out around her shoulders, her teeth sparkle and her eyes dance with mischief. He remembered the way she’d looked in her hotel suite earlier. The proposition that had been in her sweet baby blues. As Santiago’s arm slid around her waist and she rubbed up against him, Finn clenched his jaw and told himself enough was enough. This wasn’t about what had almost happened between them. It was about doing his job and keeping her fucking safe.
He crossed the dance floor, muscling his way between sweaty bodies. He should be nursing a beer in the hotel bar, kicked back watching Sports Center and blowing off steam from the shitty day. Better yet, he should be sound asleep in his room, locked away from temptation and the really bad move he was about to make.
The song ended. Lauren laughed again, eased back from Santiago. As her arm came down, Finn reached in and snagged her by the wrist.
“Hey! What do you—?”
“I need to talk to you.”
He gave her points for resisting his tug, but the three-inch heels and the damn miniskirt that showed way too much leg for his taste made it impossible for her to resist for long. He dragged her across the room, through the grinding bodies to a hallway that led to a series of bathrooms. The music wasn’t quite as loud here, but the walls still vibrated and bodies littered the corridor in groups of twos and threes.
This wasn’t going to work.
He looked right and left, picked out a darkened door that looked like access to a set of stairs. Pushing it open with his shoulder, he pulled Lauren through with him. The door snapped shut behind them, muffling the music and pulsing bass. Stairs curved up and out of sight. He dragged Lauren in that direction, out of the chaos and up to the first landing, where he pushed her back against the wall, trapping her between himself and the cool stones.
“What gives you the right to—?”
“Are you trying to get yourself raped?”
Fire flashed in her eyes. “What the hell kind of question is that?”
“What the hell kind of dancing was that?”
“It’s not your job to critique my dancing.” She pushed a hand against his chest. Shoved hard. Didn’t come close to budging him. “Your job is simply to stand on the sidelines and watch, like a good little boy.”
“I know exactly what my job is.” The woman was like a tick that he just couldn’t get rid of. He should really step back. He was way too close to the edge and there was something about her that set him off. But instead he shifted forward, pressing into her hand and closing the gap between them. “My job is to stay close to you, Ms. Kauffman. That’s what I’m doing.
Her long fingers and slim palm pushed against his chest again, which didn’t do anything but warm the skin beneath his black rayon buttondown. “I don’t want you close to me.”
“That’s not what you said a few hours ago.”
“A few hours ago I was obviously delirious from the sun, as you oh-so eloquently pointed out. Now back off.”
