A Dangerously Sexy Christmas

“What about your father? Does he have any enemies?”

“You’d need to ask someone who knows him.” She laughed, the bitter sound wrenching in Max’s chest. “He deals antiques. Could he have screwed someone on a price? I honestly wouldn’t have a clue.”

Max nodded, picked up her suitcase and walked to the bedroom. “You should probably get some rest.”

The bedroom was as modest as the lounge area. A king-size bed took up most of the space, the cream linens contrasting with the exposed redbrick wall and a plain lamp on the nightstand.

He imagined her splayed across that bed, the lamplight dancing across her pearly skin. He pictured just how magnificent her breasts would be unconfined, weighty in his palms. Slick beneath his mouth.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked, coming up beside him and placing her earrings on the nightstand. Her eyes analyzed him, shrewd. Assessing.

“They’re worth more than a penny right now,” he muttered, tossing her suitcase on the bed.

Her hands went to the back of her necklace. She fiddled with the clasp for a minute and then paused. “Can I borrow your hands?”

Hell yes, you can.

She turned her back to him, bending her head forward to expose the clasp of her necklace. He brushed aside the hair at the nape of her neck and felt a tremor run through her. The clasp was small and fiddly. His fingers swept against her smooth skin as he fumbled like a teenage boy tackling a bra clasp for the first time.

The thought sent a wave of heat through him. If only she’d move closer, arch against him. The clasp finally released and he stepped away, dazed by the scent of her perfume and the heady rush of lust.

Abort! Abort! Get the fuck out of there. NOW.

“I’ll leave you to it.” He cleared his throat. “I’ll be right outside. Make sure the window is locked.”

He checked the bathroom and closet, satisfied that the room was secure. She continued to remove her jewelry, sliding the bangles over her slender wrists and hands. The tinkling sound of precious metals clouded his mind. As her hands reached for the hem of her top he turned and left the room.

“Sweet dreams,” she called after him.

3 (#ulink_bfea40d5-fa3a-5ee8-8f1d-6b81a235d173)

ROSE LAY IN bed staring at the ceiling so intently she could have burned a hole through it. Every creak of the floor above her pushed slumber further away. Every groan of the building, every slamming of a door, every noise from the streets below made her twist and turn until the bedsheets were wrapped around her like a python going in for the kill.

Knowing that Max was mere feet away didn’t help, either. The way he’d brushed the back of her neck while taking off her necklace earlier had been fuel to her flames. As grouchy and stern as he was, she’d seen a hint of fire in him. He’d comforted her when she’d been worried about her safety. He’d challenged her when she’d questioned his taste.

Huffing, she threw back the sheets and sat up. New York was never truly dark. Lights twinkled outside her room and filtered in through the flimsy curtains. The wail of a siren broke through the city hum.

You’re never going to sleep now. You may as well have a little company...

Rose frowned in the darkness. She ached for comfort, for strong arms around her. She was sick of going to bed solo every night. Sure, she knew how to take care of her own pleasure...but it wasn’t the same. Max was gorgeous and he was right here. It wouldn’t be so bad to indulge, would it? One night to take the edge off her loneliness.

She’d never admit it, but she needed Max now...in more ways than one. What if the people chasing her couldn’t find what they wanted and they decided to kill her?

Did she really want to die alone?

Rose turned on the lamp and looked at herself in the ornate, full-length mirror. No, she most certainly did not want to die alone. Slipping her pajama shorts down her legs, she stifled a laugh. It wasn’t the first time she’d set out to seduce a guy, but seducing a bodyguard was definitely new.

Silk and lace replaced cotton. She slipped one of the fluffy white hotel robes over the lilac thong and bra she’d tossed into her suitcase, and stuffed the “just in case” condom from her wallet into the robe’s pocket. She sucked in a breath and double checked her reflection. Without makeup, the evidence of a few sleepless nights encircled her eyes in dark smudges. No matter, she’d direct his attention elsewhere.

The carpet silenced her footsteps as she padded to the door. Pressing her ear against the wood, she held her breath. Nothing. No light filtered in from the next room. He must be sleeping.

Easing down the handle, she pushed the door forward and squeezed through the opening, trying to make as little noise as possible. She didn’t even breathe for fear of waking him too early and spoiling her sneak attack.

“What are you doing?” Max’s voice cut through the darkness like a blade.

Rose let the door fall open all the way, sending lamplight flooding into the rest of the suite. “How are you awake?”

“I’m a light sleeper. It comes with the job.”

She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against the door frame. He’d all but pinned her up against one just like it earlier that day. She’d been annoyed at her body’s response at the time, cursing the way his proximity had made her throb and ache and want all kinds of delicious, sinful things.

Now she fully intended to scratch that itch.

“What are you doing?” he repeated.

He sat on the couch, still in his T-shirt and jeans but barefoot. His shaggy brown hair stuck up in all directions. Something poked out from under one of the throw cushions. Was that his pistol?

“I can’t sleep.” She walked over to the couch and dropped down next to him. “I figured you might want some company.”

“Two minutes ago you thought I was sleeping.” The light filtering in from the bedroom cast shadows across his face, making the angle of his jaw seem even sharper and more devastating.

“But you’re not. So we can talk.”

“I don’t want to talk.”

“Men never want to talk. But I can talk at you until you talk back.” She grinned at his exasperated sigh.

“You always get what you want, don’t you?”

The answer to that question used to be a resounding no, since all she’d wanted growing up was a normal life with a normal family. She wanted parents who loved her and loved one another. But she’d never got that, and eventually she’d realized that love and trust were about as real as Santa Claus.

Then she’d focused on wanting sex and her nos changed to yeses.

“I always go after what I want,” she said carefully. “And right now I want to talk to you. Or is that not in your job description?”

He paused and a hint of a smile passed over his lips, but he shifted on the couch and made space for her.

“Why did you come to New York?” she asked, watching his face carefully.

“Next question.”

“That was supposed to be my easy lead-in question.”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately it doesn’t have an easy answer. Let’s just say I’m here for work.”

Tension radiated from him. Once more his lips were set in a hard line, his gaze focused on something she couldn’t see. Something she didn’t want to see from the pain that flashed across his eyes.

“What do you do for fun? I know I asked that one before, but you didn’t answer me.”