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He gestured toward the section of windows she’d been working on. “You want to tell me why you’re doing that?”
“Because they’re filthy.” She laid one more grievance at his feet. “The whole place is a mess. If you’re lucky enough to own a house like this, you should take care of it.”
“I do. A woman comes in every two weeks.”
“And you can see for yourself what a top-notch job she’s been doing.”
He glanced around as if he was looking at the place for the first time. “I guess it’s getting a little mangy.”
“You think?”
“I’ll hire somebody else.”
She wondered if his gun was back in its ankle holster. Firearms didn’t bother her. She’d spent years being guarded by armed agents, although they tended to wear business suits instead of jeans and obscene T-shirts. So it wasn’t the gun. It was the fact that she hadn’t known about the gun or the two-week contract or any of the measly details she should have known about before she decided to drop that towel and jump into bed with him.
She tossed down the squeegee. “Why did my parents hire you? As opposed to someone reputable?”
That annoyed him. “I am reputable.”
“I’m sure they thought so at the time.” Viper smirked. “How did they find you anyway? Never mind. You’re on one of those work-release programs the prisons offer.”
He cocked his head, his expression puzzled. “What’s happened to you?”
Her rudeness was giving her a rush. “Or maybe an aide spotted your name on a sex offenders registry and decided to play a little prank?” She wanted to go on like this forever, let her tongue run free, fling out one nasty after another, say whatever insult popped into her head without a care about how it reflected on the office of the president of the United States.
“You wanted to know about me. I’ll tell you.” The Coke can landed with a thud on the wobbly wooden table by the door.
“No need.” She practiced her new Viper’s smirk. “I don’t care.”
“I’m thirty-six. I was born and raised in Detroit. In and out of trouble until the army straightened me out. Pulled sweet duty in Germany, went to Wayne State for a degree in criminal justice—”
“You have a college degree? You can barely talk.”
That made him angrier. “Just because I don’t brag about my exclusive upbringing doesn’t mean I can’t talk.”
“I never bragged—”
“I joined the Detroit police force. Resigned a couple of years ago to take over a private firm in Chicago that specializes in security for corporate executives, celebrities, athletes, and Wall Street crooks getting death threats they damn well deserve. Your parents hired me to guard you because I’m good at what I do. I’ve never been married and don’t intend to be. I like dogs, but I’m gone too much to have one. I also like hip-hop and opera. Make of that whatever you want. When I’m not on duty I sleep in the raw. Anything else you’d like to know that’s none of your business?”
“Patrick Shade? Is that name another of your many lies?”
“No. And there weren’t that many lies.”
“How about Huntsville prison?”
“Give me a break. You knew that was bogus.”
She hadn’t exactly. “Construction worker?”
“I worked construction for a while.”
“A man of honor. My mistake.”
He wouldn’t back down. “Your parents hired me. I took my orders from them, and judging from what happened today, they made a good call when they told me not to identify myself.”
“They’re overprotective.”
“You’ve gotten threatening letters. You’ve been knocked over a couple of times. And you were part of a high-profile wedding. There is such a thing as exercising reasonable caution.”
