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And today of all days, he needed to be perfect. His teammates had been the ones to take the most hands-on roles in the investigation up to now, but it was his turn. If he could land this position as bodyguard for Coran’s daughter, Toni, he’d finally be in position to move things forward. His objective, as assigned by Kyle, their SEAL team leader, was to get a firm location on Coran Williams, then apprehend and interrogate him about anything he might know regarding the secret information network known only as SHEEPSKIN. It was an organization that they now believed was directly tied to Nick’s death. If they could get Coran to cooperate, it could break everything wide open. That was worth playing babysitter to some prissy heiress who wanted to play Lady Bountiful.
He squared his shoulders in his tailor-made suit and headed into the elegant lobby, then took an elevator to the eighteenth floor.
When the doors slid open, Spencer strode out and took a left. Near the end of the corridor, he saw a plaque on the wall proclaiming in bold black letters that this was the office of Williams Wishes.Time to get this party started.Inside the offices, sunshine filtered in through the blind-covered windows against the far wall, and the sharp scents of fresh paint and drywall were noticeable. His preliminary reports on the foundation indicated the charity had moved into this new location just a month or so prior. The receptionist behind the plain oak desk gave him an appreciative once-over and a smile.
“May I help you?” she asked.
“Spencer Nixon. I have an appointment to interview with Ms. Williams for the bodyguard position.”
“One moment, please,” the woman said. “You’re a bit early.”
Spencer didn’t respond, just raised a brow and waited while she picked up her phone and dialed a number, then spoke in hushed tones. Of course he was early. Lateness was akin to sloppiness in his book.
He didn’t miss the way the receptionist kept sneaking looks at him, giving him a little smile every time she got caught. He thought about maybe flirting back. It was clear it would be welcome, and the receptionist was pretty enough, with her designer clothes and perfect makeup—but no, he was taking a break, trying to figure out what he actually wanted when it came to women. All he knew for sure was that he hadn’t found it yet. Every relationship he’d been in had been fine, but there had never been that spark. Thatsomethingmore. Deep down, he wanted what his grandparents had had—a genuine, enduring, old-fashioned love that was strong enough to weather any storm. But he’d never fallen for someone hard enough to be willing to overcome obstacles to be with her—and he’d certainly never met any woman he’d felt he could rely on to be there for him, no matter what.
“Please have a seat, Mr. Nixon. Ms. Williams will be right with you.” The receptionist gave Spencer a come-hither smile, which he ignored as he took a seat in the deserted waiting area.
The place was fixed up nicely, though the furnishings were a bit bland for his taste. Beige walls, beige carpet, a fish tank bubbling in the wall nearby. He grabbed a dog-eared copy ofPeoplefrom an end table and thumbed through it, nose scrunched. Nothing but socialites acting badly and celebrities compromising themselves in the pursuit of fame and fortune.
Definitely not his thing.
Spencer tossed it aside and sighed, checked his watch, then stared out the window.
If things went as planned and he landed the job, he’d be on a plane to the Middle East by the end of the week. Kyle had done the research—with some help from Hayley, their teammate Scotty’s FBI analyst girlfriend—and found the press releases announcing Toni Williams was about to embark on a new PR campaign to the tiny, affluent country of Jubail. Was that where Coran Williams had been hiding since dropping out of the public eye? Maybe. But if he thought he could hide there, he was mistaken. Spencer and the team had spent plenty of time in the small country during their wartime missions, so navigating the terrain and the language wouldn’t be a problem. Hell, he spoke four other languages fluently besides Arabic. A handy tool to have in his arsenal, given he never knew where he’d be stationed next.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.” A woman stepped into the waiting area and approached, hand extended. She was the exact opposite of the cool blonde at the reception desk, with her long dark brown hair and dark doe eyes. For a moment, all Spencer could do was stare. Her features were too stark to be called classically beautiful—her nose a bit too long, her lips a bit too full—but there was something about her, something he found thoroughly intriguing.
Tamping down his strange reactions, Spencer cleared his throat and pushed to his feet, absently noting that he towered over her by the better part of a foot. He shook her hand, surprised at the electricity that zinged up his arm from their point of contact.
Her eyes widened as if she’d felt it, too, and her next words were a bit huskier. “Toni Williams. So nice to meet you, Mr. Nixon.”
“Thanks, same to you.” Spencer released her hand reluctantly and followed her down a short hall toward her office. She had nice curves, and he couldn’t help admiring the sway of her hips as she walked.
As if sensing his gaze, Toni stopped at her office door and gave him a wary look as she gestured him to the chair in front of her desk. Spencer took the seat, settling in as she closed the door behind them. She walked past him on her way to her desk, and he caught a whiff of her perfume—light, floral, with a hint of cinnamon spice.
Nice. Very nice.
He frowned. He was here on a mission, not to score a date.
“So, Mr. Nixon.” Ms. Williams picked up a copy of the bogus résumé Kyle had faxed over on his behalf. “Tell me why you think you’d be the ideal candidate for this job.”
“Besides the fact I’m the best in the business?”
“Your lack of confidence is a shame.” She gave him a small smile, then traced her finger down his résumé, one brow raised. “Your credentials look impeccable. Four tours of duty in the Middle East? Really?”
“Yes, ma’am.” That part was true enough, even if the résumé claimed that he’d left the service a year ago.
“And it says here you’ve won awards for marksmanship.”
“Yes, ma’am.” True as well—he was his team’s sniper.
“What about hand-to-hand combat training?”
“I hold black belts in jujitsu and Krav Maga.”
“Very good.” Her smile grew a tad warmer, and… Crap. Now he couldn’t stop staring at her soft-looking, pink lips. “I know some martial arts myself.”
“Great. That’s great. Even with security personnel, I think it’s important to know how to take care of yourself.” He pictured her on the mat, doing a martial arts demonstration with that confident, determined look in her eye, and shifted his position slightly as his traitorous body responded to his thoughts. So he thought tough, capable women were hot—sue him.
