Page 39 of Her Ruthless Protector

9

A.J.’s internal alarm clock went off, and for the first time in forever she didn’t feel like rocketing out of bed. It was the heat. But her little trailer in Oman was always hot in the morning.

“Morning,” Kane breathed into her hair.

Oh, that heat.

A.J. replayed the events of the night on hyperdrive and realized that she had two of the most marvelous hours of sleep after working with Kane. She was fully dressed, and dammit, she hadn’t even been kissed, but it was glorious waking up in his arms. When was the last time she had felt like this?

Never.

“A.J., if you don’t take a breath soon, you might end up passing out.”

A.J. gulped in air, then let it out and scooched her butt and back closer to Kane’s front. There was no mistaking his erection, and all she wanted to do was turn around and make friends with his front.

“Hey, I call foul.” He stroked back a tangle of hair and nuzzled the sweet spot behind her ear. “Or maybe not. Why don’t you blow off your meeting with Amber?”

A.J. turned over and peered into emerald-colored eyes. She saw that he was kidding and it meant the world to her.

“Lady, get your sexy tushy out of bed, and do it without rubbing it against me,” Kane warned. “You’ve got work to do and so do I.”

A.J. rolled over and gave one last wiggle, then got out of bed. He smacked her ass, but since she was wearing jean shorts it didn’t have quite the impact he was probably going for. She headed for the tiny bathroom and got ready in under ten minutes. A wet ponytail, waterproof mascara, moisturizer with a thousand-proof SPF, and lip gloss, and her Oman beauty regimen was complete.

When she opened up the bathroom door, she smelled the heavenly scent of coffee. Oh, Kane had it going on. Coffee and spreadsheets, plus he snuggled and wasn’t handsy like he’d promised. Life was perfect.

Her phone went off at the same time as someone started slamming on her trailer door. What the hell? It was only five-thirty in the morning.

Kane peeked his head in the bedroom. “Do you want me to answer your door?”

He understood the ramifications if he was seen in her trailer at five-thirty in the morning. She appreciated the fact that he was asking. But that ship had sailed when she’d had him stay last night. She’d come to grips with it between the scotch and him nibbling on her neck while trying to explain the miracle of pivot tables.

“I’ll get it. But there’s no reason for you to hide.” She opened the door and heard Kane growl behind her.

“Ask who it is next time.”

“Pffft,” she waved her hand behind her back and concentrated on Chet at her door. “What is it?”

“We have a problem,” he said, his eyes on Kane.

“Chet, I’m the boss, not Kane,” A.J. gently admonished.

“Sorry, I was blinded by the whole SEAL thing,” he laughed self-deprecatingly.

A.J. felt herself wait a beat, then relaxed when Kane didn’t step in. “So, what has you pounding on my door before six in the morning?”

“Uhmmm. Well, we thought.” Chet rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at the steps of her trailer.

“For God’s sake Chet, spit it out.”

“Well, when we got there this morning, we thought someone had taken a dump. Actually, we thought multiple people had crapped all over the main stage, but we couldn’t find any feces. It smelled horrible.”

“Huh?” A.J.’s lip curled at the very thought.

“Yeah, right?” Chet looked up at her. “It was rancid. It permeated the whole area.”

“Please tell me they didn’t pour the chemicals into any type of equipment,” Kane almost groaned.

“What do you mean?” Chet and A.J. turned to him.