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“You might not want a protector hanging around, but you need one.” Heath pushed off the brick wall and crossed his beefy arms, though he still didn’t allow her enough space to get around him and escape. “I promised Murphy I’d look for you and make sure you were safe. A promise I intend to keep. Your story’s important though too, and I get that. So, let’s make a deal. You can keep running your undercover investigation, but only if I’m along for the ride. As your bodyguard.”
“My bodyguard?” She snorted. “I don’t—”
“Yeah, you do. Besides, I’ve got lots of contacts in the government from my time in the military. CIA, FBI, the Pentagon. I can help you get the proof you need to nail this bastard’s ass to the wall.” He widened his stance, giving the impression he could stand there all night, if needed. “So, what’s it going to be? I haul you upstairs right now and make a call to Murphy, or you accept my help and we go catch us some bad guys?”
“Those are my choices, huh?” She tapped her finger against her bottom lip, making a show of considering it when what she really wanted to do was stomp on his toes for acting like such an abominable ass. He wasn’t the boss of her, no matter what he might think at the moment. “And who’s to say I won’t agree, then ditch you later and do my own thing anyway? Didn’t think about that did you, He-Man the Barbarian?”
If her insult struck home at all, he didn’t show it. Instead, he chuckled and grinned, in that smug, arrogant, thoroughly adorable way of his. She clenched her fists to keep from punching him. “You won’t run off, because I don’t intend to let you out of my sight for the next fourteen days. Where you go, I go. Eating, sleeping, whatever.”
“Showering too?” she said, going for snotty but ending up somewhere around breathless again as images of the two of them naked and slick in a tile shower together cascaded through her mind. His muscles pressed to her soft curves as he stroked her and licked her and made her cry out his name in ecstasy…
As if sensing the path her naughty mind had taken, Heath’s grin widened and his eyes grew brighter as passion flared in their depths. “That could be arranged too, if you want.”
Want?
Her brain snagged on that word. Well, shit. It didn’t matter what she wanted. This was a business deal, nothing more. Flirting and fighting aside, she needed to be careful around this guy. He’d been friends with her brother for far longer than he’d known her and she knew damned well where his loyalties truly were. She also had no doubt he’d make good on his threats too. She fully intended to tell Murphy what was going on and let him know she was okay, at the right time and in the right way. Her family came from hearty Irish-Jewish stock and Murphy was the kindest, sweetest, most easy-going guy to be around—until you threatened something he held dear. Then all bets were off. He’d be pissed as hell when she finally did contact him and she couldn’t risk him blowing all this for her. Not now.
Aileen exhaled slowly then held out her hand. “Fine. Deal?”
Heath glanced down at her hand, then back up to her face, his grin fading a bit as he wrapped her frigid fingers in his warm, leather-covered ones. “Deal. But we keep this above board, no more flirting, no more temptation. This is business, understand? And you are the little sister of my closest friend. I’ll be your shadow and you promise not to do anything reckless or stupid or dangerous again.”
She nodded and he let her go, stepping back to allow her to move out from the wall. Funny enough, she missed his heat almost immediately. “Right. Let’s start by going back upstairs so I can change.”
“You can change at my place.” Heath took her arm and led her out to the main street where he hailed a taxi.
After they were settled in the backseat and he’d given the driver directions, Aileen finally got a word in edgewise. “What exactly am I supposed to change into when I get there? All my stuff’s in my apartment. Well, other than the small stash I keep at the MacLeans.”
“I’ll get you new stuff.” He looked her up and down. “What size are you? Four, maybe six? Definitely petite.”
She wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove his “petite,” but he was already on his phone, making calls to God knew where. She slumped in her seat and stared out the window at the passing scenery. The sky had become overcast again, threatening more snow on the way. The sun had gone down about an hour prior so all the holiday lights were on, casting the slush and ice in pretty pastel colors. The taxi headed toward SoHo and Aileen started to get curious. Last she’d heard from Murphy, Heath lived in a condo close to Central Park.
Then again, maybe he’d moved. Wasn’t like she kept tabs on the guy or anything.
A few minutes later their cab pulled up in front of a non-descript brownstone on a quiet side street. Heath paid the guy and got out, then offered Aileen his hand. She stood on the sidewalk and stared up at the remodeled jewel from the late nineteenth century. “Wow. Is this your place?”
“My father’s actually,” Heath said, leading her up the front steps to a black painted door. “It’s between renters at the moment, so it worked out well for me.”
“What happened to your condo by Central Park?” she asked as she followed him inside a Victorian-style foyer complete with intricate carved fretwork decorating the entrance. “Got bored?”
“No, actually. Got squatters.” He gave a rueful chuckle and locked the front door behind them. “Daveed and Mel are living there for the time being. Until they get married and get a place of their own.”
“Oh.” She followed him into a renovated living room with gleaming hardwood floors and a beautiful beaux-art white marble fireplace in one wall. “That’s generous of you to give up your home like that.”
Heath shrugged and sorted through his mail. “Daveed’s like a brother. Same as Murphy. And it’s not like you haven’t done the same. As far as I know, Murphy and Shayma are still shacking up in your apartment. Unless they’ve moved back into her suite at The Plaza. Not sure. Have to check on that one. Either way, both your brother and Daveed were waiting for me back at your place, so we came here instead. A deal’s a deal, right?”
“Right.” Suddenly feeling very silly in her Santa suit, Aileen fidgeted in the corner of the grand space. Her mind stuck on what Heath had just said. “Wait a minute. Who’s Shayma?”
“You have been gone a while, haven’t you?” Heath chuckled. “Shayma’s your brother’s girlfriend-slash-soon-to-be-fiancée.”
“Oh.” Well, didn’t that make her feel even more like an idiot. She twisted her Santa hat in her hands and glanced around again. “So, about those clothes you said you’d get.”
“Yep.” As if on cue, a knock sounded on the front door and he walked over to let in two women and a man carrying a plethora of shopping bags from all the finest New York stores—Bloomingdales, Saks, Neiman-Marcus, Bergdorfs. They set about laying out everything from jeans and T-shirts to lingerie and PJs, socks and dresses and even a few evening gowns.
While she gawked at the clothes, Heath walked them back to the foyer and gave them each a wad of cash before locking the door behind them once more. Aileen was in awe. Seriously. She’d known Heath and his family had billions, but she’d never imagined she’d have her very own Pretty Woman moment with him. “Uh, there’s no way all this stuff is for me. I can’t possibly wear everything. And how do we know it e
ven fits?”
“Oh, it’ll fit. Trust me.” He ran an assessing gaze over her again, and she’d never felt more naked or wanton in her life. “I’ve got an eye for things like that. Plus, those shoppers are my personal assistants. They know what I want better than I know myself. Now, why don’t you take all of this to the guest room and start trying it on?” He pointed down the hallway. “You can take the room across from mine. It’s all ready to go. After you’re settled, I’ll give you the grand tour.”
