Zero Control

He fisted his hands. Roxie wasn’t for him. For one thing he had a job to do, and for all he knew she could be a saboteur. Never mind that she looked sweet and innocent. She’d probably be sweet and innocent in bed, as well, and who needed that kind of sex? He liked his women experienced and uninhibited when it came to lovemaking. He didn’t fancy himself as anyone’s teacher.

Who cares? You’re not going to find out what she’s like in the sack. That would break all the rules.

Besides, clearly they came from different worlds. The girl-next-door types didn’t mix well with burned-out Air Force captains who’d witnessed too much of the dark side of life. He’d seen terrorists’ bombs take out entire villages, had watched women and children starving in refugee camps, had heard of other atrocities he didn’t want to think about.

Yep, he was going to keep his libido locked up tight. No matter if he had to take a dozen cold showers a day until this trip was over. Not just for his sake, but for hers, as well.

3

HER BODY’S INVOLUNTARY reaction to the bothersome Mr. Lockhart worried Roxie more than she cared to admit. Not only that, but she was drawn to him on an emotional level—they had a lot in common. They liked the same music and the same food. And then there was that odd feeling she got whenever he touched her, as if she’d come home after a long journey.

Ever since he’d come back from the cockpit, she felt encased in a protective bubble, as if nothing could harm her as long as he was beside her. The thought was ridiculous, but she couldn’t shake it. He was so tall and strong, so commanding and reassuring.

Some corporate spy you are. Seriously, stop thinking about the dude. Keep your mind in the game or you’re going to get caught.

And if that happened, Mr. Langley would have no choice but to fire her and then who would put Stacy through school? Okay, no more noticing how those pants fit so snugly to his thighs. No more imagining what his chest looked like beneath that puffy-sleeved shirt. No more sliding surreptitious glances.

Her gaze drifted over him. Wow, but he was a muscular guy. Not bodybuilder physique, but hard clean through his core. He didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. His forearms were sinuous. His powerful hands bore the nicks and scars of a man who’d done manual labor. His fingers were long, his nails clean and trimmed.

His compelling profile drew her attention. He possessed firm, no-nonsense features. Sturdy, sharp nose, angular jaw that his beard couldn’t hide, lips shaped like a crossbow.

He turned and caught her studying him. His dark brown eyes, intense as an eagle’s, drilled right through her. His gaze was proud and commanding, yes, but there was more. She saw compassion beneath the rough edge and a kindness he couldn’t cloak. She didn’t question that he would catch her if she fell; he already had.

“How does a guy like you stay single?” she asked.

Good lord, why had she said that? She couldn’t have anything to do with him. He worked for Eros. She was a spy for Getaway. Not an auspicious way to start a relationship.

You’re not starting a relationship. Stop thinking like that!

He arched an eyebrow and the corners of his mouth tipped up. “Pardon?”

Great, now she was going to have to repeat the question. “How come a guy like you is still single?”

Shut up! What was wrong with her? Someone should put a ball gag in her mouth.

The eyebrow shot up higher. “A guy like me?”

She could hear the chuckle in his question. “You know. Good-looking, big, strong, all protector-y?”

“Protector-y?” Amusement lit his eyes.

“I’m just saying you don’t look like your typical tour guide.”

“No?”

“Not so much.”

“What do I look like?”

“A cop or a soldier or a fireman. Something rugged and tough.”

“What about a mercenary?”

The way he said mercenary lifted the hairs on her forearm. “Are you a mercenary?”

“Aren’t we all?” His eyes darkened and all traces of humor left his face. “In one way or another?”

Panic squeezed her lungs, snuffing out her breath. Anxiously her hand stole to her chest and she pressed her palm against her heart. Did he somehow suspect what she was up to?

Don’t freak out. There’s no way he can know what you’re doing.

No, but if she didn’t stop overreacting she was going to give herself away. “Have you ever been married?” she asked, trying to appear supercool even as she felt sweat trickle down the back of her bra.

“No.”

“Ever been engaged?”

“Almost. Twice.”

“What happened?”

He shrugged. “The first time we were too young, kids fresh out of high school. Luckily we both came to our senses before it was too late. The second time…”

“The second time?” she prodded. Why didn’t she just pluck that romance novel out of her purse and start reading and pretend he didn’t exist?

Why? Because ignoring him would be like ignoring the sun in the Sahara. He was that dominant, that powerful. And yet she couldn’t help feeling he hid a vulnerable side. Had he lost someone important to him? She thought of her parents and bit down on her bottom lip.

“Let’s just say that I was blindsided.”

“Oh.” So his ex-fiancée had cheated on him? Who would betray a guy like this? If he was her man—

Don’t even go there.

But how could any woman cheat on him? In spite of the theatrical costume he wore, Dougal Lockhart was, in every sense of the word, masculine.

“Have you ever been engaged?” he asked.

“Me?” She shook her head. “No, no.”

“You say that like the idea is preposterous.”

She almost opened her mouth and told him about her parents and Stacy, but then she bit down on her tongue. She was supposed to be a spy. Spies were quiet and unobtrusive. They didn’t blather. They got other people to talk. She shrugged.

“Not the marrying kind?” he supplied.

“Something like that.”

He unbuckled his seat belt. “I’ve enjoyed talking to you, Roxie, but now that we’re airborne and the flight has evened out, I need to schmooze with the other guests. A tour guide’s work is never done.”