An undercover mission means deadly danger for one Navy SEAL

A brand-new Aegis Security romance

After his career as a SEAL is cut short by injury, Spence Lloyd is thrilled when he gets a top secret assignment. But it’s hardly the death-defying action he’s used to. Instead, Spence must protect a high-ranking admiral’s beautiful daughter. As stubborn as she is alluring, Mia Cade presents a unique challenge to her bodyguard—one that will test his head and his heart...

TAWNY WEBER is the New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author of more than forty books. She writes sassy, emotional romances with a dash of humor and believes that it all comes down to heroes. In fact, she’s made her career writing about heroes, most notably her popular navy SEALs series. Tawny credits her ex-military alpha husband for inspiration in her writing, and in her life. The recipient of numerous writing accolades, including the RT Reviewers’ Choice Award, she has also hit number one on the Amazon and Barnes & Noble bestseller lists. A homeschooling mom, Tawny enjoys scrapbooking, gardening and spending time with her family and dogs in her Northern California home.

Visit Tawny on the web at www.tawnyweber.com. You can also find her on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Goodreads.

Facebook.com/TawnyWeber.RomanceAuthor

Twitter.com/TawnyWeber

Pinterest.com/TawnyWeber

Goodreads.com/Author/Show/513828.Tawny_Weber

Also by Tawny Weber

Aegis Security

Navy SEAL to the Rescue

Navy SEAL Bodyguard

Nice & Naughty

Midnight Special

Naughty Christmas Nights

Uniformly Hot!

A SEAL’s Seduction

A SEAL’s Surrender

A SEAL’s Salvation

A SEAL’s Kiss

A SEAL’s Fantasy

Christmas with a SEAL

A SEAL’s Secret

A SEAL’s Pleasure

A SEAL’s Temptation

A SEAL’s Touch

A SEAL’s Desire

One Night with a SEAL

Team Poseidon

Night Maneuvers

Call to Honor

Call to Engage

Call to Redemption

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Navy SEAL Bodyguard

Tawny Weber

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-09405-4

NAVY SEAL BODYGUARD

© 2019 Tawny Weber

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

By payment of the required fees, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right and licence to download and install this e-book on your personal computer, tablet computer, smart phone or other electronic reading device only (each a “Licensed Device”) and to access, display and read the text of this e-book on-screen on your Licensed Device. Except to the extent any of these acts shall be permitted pursuant to any mandatory provision of applicable law but no further, no part of this e-book or its text or images may be reproduced, transmitted, distributed, translated, converted or adapted for use on another file format, communicated to the public, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher.

® and ™ are trademarks owned and used by the trademark owner and/or its licensee. Trademarks marked with ® are registered with the United Kingdom Patent Office and/or the Office for Harmonisation in the Internal Market and in other countries.

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Version: 2020-03-02

MILLS & BOON

Before you start reading, why not sign up?

Thank you for downloading this Mills & Boon book. If you want to hear about exclusive discounts, special offers and competitions, sign up to our email newsletter today!

SIGN ME UP!

Or simply visit

signup.millsandboon.co.uk

Mills & Boon emails are completely free to receive and you can unsubscribe at any time via the link in any email we send you.

“I want you.” Mia’s smile was candy-sweet, but the light in her eyes was pure challenge. “Do you want me?”

Spence would rather take a bullet than hurt her, but he knew a trap when he teetered on the edge of one. Truth or lie, either way he’d be in trouble.

The upside? She didn’t wait for his response.

“What do you say? Want to see if we’re any good together?”

The downside? Her words were tempting enough to destroy his resistance.

He stared at that gorgeous face, with her full lips tilted in a bold smile and those fairy eyes glowing. Refusal was on the tip of his tongue, then he looked closer. There was just a hint of nerves lurking there, just beneath the desire.

That vulnerability hit him even harder than the desire, melting the rest of his resistance like fire melted wax.

Where was a sniper when he needed one?

Dear Reader,

Woot! I’m so excited to share the second book in the Aegis Security series with you. Navy SEAL Bodyguard features Spence Lloyd, a SEAL building a new life after leaving the team, and his first assignment: going undercover to protect the daughter of his commanding officer.

And while Spence is skilled at all things under the covers, working undercover means lying to a woman he’s seriously attracted to. This was a fun conflict to write, as was one of the main challenges that Spence and Mia have in common: parental meddling. Aah, parental meddling... Her father, his mother and all those behind-the-scenes attempts to interfere in their adult children’s lives. Not that I have any personal experience with that, of course. I enjoyed combining that family vibe while writing these intense characters. As much fun was weaving in the luxurious locations, the fancy charity events and, one of my personal favorite topics, obsessive planning, along with the twisted turns of suspense and betrayal.

I really hope that you enjoy the story and all of these elements. And after Navy SEAL Bodyguard, I hope that you’ll check out the rest of the Aegis Security series, as well as my other books. I’m looking forward to sharing many more stories with you and can’t wait to hear what you think. Feel free to stop by my website, tawnyweber.com, where you can check out my books, subscribe to my newsletter and enjoy lots of romance-addicting fun.

All my best,

Tawny

In memory of Ismael Ramirez, whose love, support and son I will always treasure.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Introduction

Dear Reader

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

About the Publisher

Prologue

“Is everything in place?”

“It will be. I’ve got Mia Cade just where I want her. A few more days at the most and she’ll be our conduit to Senator Penz.”

“Perfect. Penz has no idea what’s going to hit him.”

“And Mia? When you murder the senator? What’ll happen to her?”

“Señorita Cade is our—what’s the term? Fall guy? First we use her to lure in Penz. Then we eliminate her in a simple murder-suicide. Loose ends are tidied, our enemies are dead and we are avenged.”

“Poor Mia won’t know what hit her. It just goes to show that it never pays to be a do-gooder.” Laughter rang through the phone line, cold and vicious.

And just a little insane.

Chapter 1

Mia Cade had two goals in life. One, to put as much distance as possible between herself and the manipulation, irritation and, most of all, interference of her family. Two, to help raise millions of dollars for charity.

She figured both goals were a direct product of her upbringing.

She’d spent her formative years as a Navy brat, her family packing up every couple of years to relocate to a new place in the world. With every move, Mia’s older sister, Megan, threw another fit about leaving her friends, and her younger sister developed some new ailment that ensured their mother’s full attention. Leaving Mia to organize and handle the details of unpacking and getting the family settled in their new home.

Their mother toured them through every new city or country, ensuring that they saw the good and the bad. The rich and the poor. Her purpose was to instill appreciation in her children, along with as much culture as possible.

In London, they’d visited Buckingham Palace, watched Macbeth onstage at the Royal Opera House and organized a Fill Your Boots charity campaign, collecting money on base for the Royal National Lifeboat Institute.

In Shanghai, they’d prayed in the Jade Buddha Temple, toured the Shanghai Museum and spent a few hours a week reading to disabled orphans.

Megan had gotten in trouble for shoplifting in London, had a screaming match with their mother in the Louvre and had tried to run away in Tibet. Marley, on the other hand, developed migraines in Virginia, violent allergies in Tokyo and pneumonia in Alaska. And so it went in Honolulu, Bahrain, Venice and New York. Every new station was a sea of unfamiliar faces, cultural education and charitable works, combined with high drama, hospital visits and Mia desperately trying to organize her life into some semblance of sanity.

By the time she’d finished college, she’d seen enough of the world to know she wanted to stay as far away from travel and her family as possible.

She’d chosen San Francisco.

All the way across the country from them.

Too far away for drop-in visits. Yet no distance was too far from nagging phone calls.

“Mia, you should listen to your sister. She warned you about that girl.”

“Jessica is my roommate and she’s twenty-six, Mother. A year older than me. It’s okay to call us women now.”

“Girl. Woman.” Her mother pshawed. “You’ll always be my baby.”

God help her.

“But that isn’t the point. Your sister’s concerns are the point. I told you, she thinks this Jessica girl is mean and nasty and vindictive. She’s a bad influence, a backstabber and someone who surely has it in for you.”

“Because I was crowned homecoming queen instead of her? Mom, that’s ridiculous.”

“Don’t forget that you were valedictorian, too. Marley said this girl holds grudges. There’s no way she forgot that you swept into that school and knocked her right off the pedestal.”

And off she went, in the style only Anne Cade could. Ranting with half facts, high drama and a heaping helping of guilt. Mia let the words roll over her while she went back to searching for a way to fit an extra fifty seats into a dining room for the upcoming charity ball. She’d managed to squeeze in thirty by the time her mother wound down.

“Look, Jessica is fine. She’s nice. She’s safe. She has a good job. She pays rent, helps with the bills. She’s not luring me into bars or doing drugs. No wild parties, no illicit affairs, no disreputable men.”

And just like that, her mother turned on a dime.

“You could do with meeting some men, Mia. You’re a good-looking girl, smart and fun, and your table manners are exquisite.”

“Can’t forget those table manners.”

“Speaking of, I know the perfect man for you. He’s good-looking, six foot six and very clever with languages. He fixed my computer last week. Remember the trouble I was having with it? It’s so handy to have a man around who can fix things, don’t you think? And didn’t you say you needed a new computer?”

Not enough to want a man to go with it.

“What’s his rank?”

“Petty officer,” her mother replied, biting off the last word in obvious frustration. “Now don’t be silly, Mia. Your bias against military men is ridiculous. Are you going to throw away the opportunity to meet the perfect man just because he serves his country?”

In a heartbeat.

“I don’t have time for dating, Mother,” Mia sidestepped, knowing her perfectly justified arguments always fell on deaf ears. “I’m super busy with work. And speaking of—”

“Fine, fine. If you want to refuse to meet the perfect man, that’s your choice. That’s not why I called, anyway,” her mother said dismissively. “Your uncle will be in town later this month, meeting with donors and attending a climate change event. I can count on you to be a proper hostess, can’t I? Show him around, keep him company?”

Of course she’d take care of her uncle, US Senator Luis Penz, who’d spent as many years in California as she’d been alive, show him around and keep the poor, bored-with-nothing-to-do man company.

A part of her wanted to offer that sarcastic thought aloud. To point out that she was an independent adult, a professional with a good head on her shoulders, solid social skills and a strong sense of responsibility.

But that wouldn’t stop the nagging interference. It’d only irritate her mother into bringing in backups, usually in the form of Mia’s siblings. Or worse, her father.

So she kept her thoughts to herself, settling for a roll of her eyes and an innocuous, “Of course, Mother.”

“As you can see, it’s poor timing for you to have that woman living with you.”

“It’s not like Uncle Luis would stay in my apartment, Mom. There’s not enough room for his suits.” To say nothing of his security detail.

“I don’t want him meeting this woman, Mia. She’s bad news.”

“Because she lost the homecoming crown?”

“No,” her mother snapped. “Because she works for a criminal.”

Mia grimaced. “Actually, she works for a businessman. Santiago Alcosta is totally on the up-and-up, Mom.” Not an idiot, Mia had researched the man as soon as she heard who Jessica worked for. “He’s built his business in real estate, and Alcosta International is above reproach. Sure, he has a few family members who got in trouble, but who doesn’t? Your own sister was arrested last month.”

“A few family members? His father was considered a drug lord. His brother was arrested for smuggling. Mia, your Aunt Phoebe shoplifts cat toys to donate to the local shelters.”

But Alcosta wasn’t his father or brother, Mia wanted to point out. And being a smart businesswoman, she had done her due diligence. Not only had she done a standard background check on the man, she’d asked around. She’d used her resources, she’d checked with other event coordinators, with her social contacts and best of all, she’d grilled her roommate. As the man’s personal assistant, Jessica was a font of information. She’d not only filled Mia in on Alcosta’s preferences and tastes as it applied to possible events, she’d discussed his work habits, his feelings about his criminal relatives and his hopes for helping others.

But Mia knew, just like any protests she made pointing out her own independence and maturity, the words would fall on deaf ears.

So before her mother could launch into one of her lectures on the depth of family roots, Mia changed the subject. “I have to go now. I’ve got a lot of work to do. Why don’t you call Megan? I heard she’s having the twins tested for ADD.”

“ADD?” Anne snapped. “They’re not even a year old yet.”

“I know, right.” And with that, Mia sicced her mother on her sister and ended the call with a grin.

The key to winning a battle, her father always said, was knowing the enemy’s weakness. In her mother’s case, that weakness was a chance to boss people around.

Yet another reason for putting a country between them. A great choice, she decided yet again, resting her elbow on the table to support her chin as she stared out the wide plate-glass window of her apartment at the misty view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

She loved it here—the weather, the people, the variety of things to do and, most of all, the generous altruism of the charitable community. It was an event coordinator’s dream. The Bay Area—and Northern California, in general—was home to some of the wealthiest people in the country, many of whom loved to give back. To their community. To the needy. To research, to civil servants, to causes, and to people and charities.

That’s where Mia came in.

All those years with her family made her especially aware of how much need there was in the world and how impossible it would be for her to fix it all by herself.

So she’d turned her organizational skills, people savvy and gift for smoothing the waters, combined with her bent for out-of-the-box thinking, into a career as a premier freelance event coordinator, serving some of the top international charities in the country.

And she was kicking butt.

Okay, she thought, looking at the files stacked like walls around her laptop, which was sitting on the kitchen table, maybe she wasn’t quite kicking butt yet. But after three years, she was definitely getting closer. Was there any such thing as nudging butt?

But a little more time building her reputation and event portfolio, a few more big clients on retainer, and a handful of successful, high-dollar fund-raisers, and she’d be there, dues paid, success in hand.

Before she could pay those dues, she had to pay the bills. Mia sighed, looking at the tallest stack on her desk. So, so many bills.

Okay. So maybe she was struggling a little financially, but she hadn’t chosen this career to get rich. And sure, she’d had to give up her tiny office and take in a roommate to help make ends meet, but that made her resourceful. And yes, she’d chosen to settle in one of the most expensive cities in the country, but she knew if she could make it here, she could make it anywhere.

So she focused on that.

She had a few other events coming up this month to handle, as well: a local ladies’ club holding a tea party to raise funds for a veterans’ memorial, a high school jamboree focused on building a new football field and an author event raising money for literacy.

She’d just lifted her cell phone to start those calls when it chimed in her hand.

Forever Families, the readout said. Mia’s biggest client to date, and her biggest challenge. Not in terms of her ability to handle things—she knew the organization so well, she could plan its events with her eyes closed—but because the director was incredibly determined to hire. And as appealing as regular hours, reliable paychecks and health care sounded, Mia was determined to make it on her own.

To prove that she could.

But Lorraine Perkins didn’t like to hear the word no.

The wife of one of the biggest real estate developers in the state of California, Lorraine was a social maven and one of the best-connected women Mia had ever met.

“Mia, darling, I’m just checking on the progress of our gala,” Lorraine said in those rounded tones only the wealthy seemed to pull off. “Not that I doubt for a second that you have it all well in hand.”

Of course she didn’t. Four phone calls a day was a sign of absolute faith. Mia silently waited for Lorraine to continue.

“As you know,” and she did know because Lorraine had insisted on mentioning it in each of those four daily calls, “if this weekend’s fund-raising goals are met, there’s a good chance that I’d put you in charge of our Winter Ball.”

The Winter Ball. Mia’s holy grail. A luxurious, complicated, multifaceted event spanning ten days, necessitating clever and innovative fund-raising techniques, savvy organizational skills, and, if rumor was true, the ability to juggle fire, water and ice all at the same time.

She knew this weekend’s event was the last in a series of what were essentially interviews testing her abilities. She knew, too, that Lorraine would rather handle the event in-house than bring in an outside coordinator.

But if Mia impressed her enough, she’d get the contract, she’d continue to freelance and she’d be able to bill herself as one of the top charitable-event coordinators in the country.

Best of all, she’d have done it all on her own.

“We’ll meet that goal,” Mia vowed. “Actually, things will be so amazing that I’ll bet we surpass it.”

“Oh, Mia, you’re such an optimist. But if anyone can do it, I’m starting to think you could.” Before Mia could revel in that compliment, Lorraine’s friendly tone turned pure business. “Now, you got my note about adding another fifty seats to the dinner, yes? Where are you at with that?”

“I’ve already spoken with catering and the location staff. The florist will add two more bouquets to the table,” Mia said, running her finger down her list as she recited check-marked items. “Because we’re losing square footage, the string trio will set up on the balcony just outside the ballroom.”

As she continued to recite her progress, she made a quick mental note to add extra space heaters to that balcony. Even though it was summer, evenings in San Francisco could get chilly.

“Perfect. It sounds as if you have a solid handle on it all. You’re one of the best planners in the Bay Area. And speaking of, I heard a rumor,” Lorraine said, her voice dropping with hushed excitement. “A wonderful, too-good-to-be-true rumor.”

“What’d you hear?” Mia scooted into a more comfy position in her chair and smiled, ready for some fun. She’d discovered the only thing the wealthy loved more than seeing their names written next to the word altruistic and the promise of tax deductions was gossip.

“It’s come to my attention that a certain young lady we both know and love has hidden connections.”

Oh, no. Mia cringed. Lorraine had been nagging her to convince her uncle to one of her events, claiming he’d be a huge draw. But before Mia could think of the right excuse, Lorraine continued in an giddy rush, “International real-estate connections, ones with very deep pockets.”

Mia frowned. It didn’t sound like Lorraine was describing Senator Penz. Thankfully the woman kept dropping those juicy hints.

“This connection is, as I hear it, very distinguished, cosmopolitan and charming. A man who rose above his juicy, scandalous family. In other words, just the kind of guest to add such a delicious panache to my ball.”

Ahhh.

Not her uncle. Mia was torn between relief and frustration as she realized whom Lorraine meant.

“Santiago Acosta?” Why was everyone bringing up Alcosta today? “I’m not sure he’d be available at such short notice. I do know a number of other people we could invite, though. Dignitaries, celebrities, even politicians.”

“No, no, no. It has to be Alcosta. Everybody has been talking about him at the club, but he’s not taking invitations. He even turned down the Grangers.”

He did? The Grangers counted a congressman, a US diplomat and a Tony winner among their numbers. They were a group high on Mia’s event-organizing wish list.

“But if I could put word out that Alcosta is attending the gala, attendance will go through the roof. And by attendance, I mean donations, of course.”

“Of course.” Mia blew out a breath. “Let me see what I can do.”

“I knew I could count on you, Mia. You are so efficient and dependable. Your association with influential people like Alcosta does carry a lot of weight in considering you for my biggest events,” Lorraine declared before saying goodbye.

Mia hung up with a sigh.

To pull off getting a man like Alcosta on board—to say nothing of getting the man’s business—meant doing something Mia abhorred. Something she’d vowed to avoid at all costs.

Using a friend.

Her family was big on offering help and opinions, and thanks to years of military service all over the world, it had tons of connections. All of which she’d availed herself of when she’d started out.

But her brother-in-law’s bookkeeper pal had garnered her penalties by forgetting to file quarterly taxes. Her sister’s BFF snuck a strip show into a simple fund-raiser for firefighters. And her parents’ start-up loan offer had come with so many strings, Mia would have owed them 50 percent of her profits, along with her firstborn, before she’d have been able to untangle the mess.

Half the setbacks and problems she’d had with her business were thanks to her family’s “help.” Which was just one of the reasons why Mia now insisted on doing it all on her own. She’d even refused her uncle’s offer to bring her onto his senatorial staff for a year so she could garner government creds, something that might have gone a long way toward making her job easier.

For Mia, asking for favors for charity was simple. But asking for personal ones was akin to being poked in the eye with a burning stick, since no personal favor came without a few sticky strings.

The trick was going to be asking Jessica for help without making it obvious that she needed it.

“Why the long face?”

Speak of the devil.

Jessica Alexander posed in the doorway. The petite, curvaceous blonde looked like a cross between a china doll and a centerfold.

Mia shot a fast glance at the clock in the corner of her computer screen to make sure she hadn’t lost a few hours. Nope, only one o’clock in the afternoon.

But like Mia, Jessica didn’t have normal work hours. As an administrative assistant to Señor Alcosta, some days her roommate was home at five o’clock, some she waltzed in at two o’clock in the afternoon and others still she swept out at nine o’clock at night, wearing evening wear.

Their work schedules—or lack thereof—was pretty much the end of the similarity between the two women.

Despite measuring in at a lean five foot ten, Mia knew her sharp features gave her the look of a fairy. She wore her ebony hair in a pixie cut, the long bangs sweeping in a curve over eyes the color of bittersweet chocolate. She leaned toward textured fabrics, rich colors and avant-garde jewelry.

Jessica, on the other hand, was petite and built with enviously lush curves. She accented her fluff of blond curls, cornflower-blue eyes and a Cupid’s bow mouth with delicate fabrics in pastels and lace, skyscraper heels, and—in her only departure from her baby-doll style—flashy diamonds.

They were complete opposites in every other way, too. Mia was quiet. Jessica was flirtatious. Mia had cut her teeth on diplomacy. Jessica thrived on excitement. Mia was an introvert who loved nothing better than peace and quiet; Jessica was an extrovert who needed crowds and noise and attention. Jessica reveled in a secret love affair, sharing every detail—every detail—but the man’s name, while Mia had no more interest in a relationship than she had in dancing naked over hot coals.

And yet somehow they’d become friends. And despite Mia’s family’s concerns, she thought Jessica was good for her. The other woman brought spice and energy and excitement into her life, something she hadn’t realized was missing until she and Jessica had run into each other on the street two months ago.

It’d been the first the women had seen of each other since they’d attended the same boarding school. She’d been surprised Jessica even remembered, let alone recognized, her. But Jessica had swept her into a hug, taken her to lunch and—as soon as she’d found out Mia had a two-bedroom apartment—begged to move in for a few months.

“I thought you were working today,” she said as Jessica leaned one arm against the doorframe and propped the other on her tiny waist.

“I decide to take a half day,” Jessica said in a husky voice that made men melt. “Fridays should always be half days, don’t you think? Besides, I have a date tonight.”

Jessica hadn’t lived here long, but Mia knew from experience that a date night meant spa time, a Victoria’s Secret binge and a juicy morning-after story hot enough to singe Mia’s imagination.

What must it be like to have that kind of love life? Mia wondered. Incendiary passion, breathtaking excitement. Heck, she’d take enduring interest, something she’d yet to have with a man, much to her mother’s disgust.

“You didn’t answer my question.” At Mia’s frown, Jessica added, “Why the long face?”

Mia thought of Lorraine’s mandate that she get Santiago Alcosta to attend the gala. The best way to get something done was straight out, her father always said. Just do it, find it or ask for it.

She opened her mouth to do just that.

“Just thinking about the business of, well, my business,” Mia heard herself saying instead. “I have three smaller events this week to deal with, plus the gala next weekend, and I still need to find an assistant.”

Preferably an assistant who thought raising funds for charity itself was an ample paycheck.

“I can help you out,” Jessica offered, crossing the kitchen to start pulling out ingredients. “I’ve got a little extra time on my hands after tonight. My hottie is heading out of town for a week, so I’d love a project to keep me busy.”

A week of free help?

“What about your job?”

“I’m sure I can work it out,” Jessica said, flashing her most engaging smile. “Ready for your favorite matcha mocha latte?”

Mia hesitated.

Not over the latte. That, she wanted.

It was a favor she wasn’t so sure of.

“I appreciate the offer...”

“I’ll take care of any research, handle vendors, pay the bills and organize your database,” Jessica assured her, starting to work on her caffeine creations.

As the scent of coffee filled the air, Mia pictured Jessica’s room, with clothes thrown over furniture, a vanity table splotched with spilled makeup and shoes dumped in piles in the closet. And the papers. Papers were stacked, piled, spread and wadded everywhere.

Mia placed a protective hand on the files next to her.

“I appreciate the offer. I really do. But that’s not really—”

“I’ll even handle finding someone to help you at events to replace that gal. What was her name? The one who kept breaking things? Your computer, that case of glassware, her leg.”

“Bree was my coordination assistant,” Mia murmured. “And she was just a little accident-prone.”

“Right. Coordination assistant. I’ll find you one.” Jessica began pouring ingredients into the blender. “You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“But—”

“I know how you are about taking help with the business end of things, but I promise, I know what I’m doing,” Jessica said, setting two tall glass mugs on the table, each frothed high with whipped cream and a delicate layer of almond dust. “It’s not like I’d screw things up for you.”

“Of course I don’t think that,” Mia denied half-heartedly, wrapping both hands around the mug to inhale the rich blend of scents to buy a few seconds. “But I’ve already put a call into Karen Lawson. She coordinates volunteers for a number of charities. I’ve worked with her before and am sure she’ll be sending someone my way soon.”

“Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. You don’t want to depend on a maybe,” Jessica said, reaching into a slender pocket in her silk suit to pull out a business card. She set it on the table amidst Mia’s piles of folders and stacks of files, and using one pink nail, pushed it forward. “Not when you’re going to be really busy since I just snagged you a dream event.”

“A dream event?” Curious, Mia lifted the card.

Unsurprised, she read the name Santiago Alcosta, embossed in glossy black ink on heavy white card stock, with the entire card framed by a slender gold line. Elegant, understated decadence, she decided. That’d be the theme she’d pitch to go with these cards.

“Tell me more about this dream event,” she invited, wondering how to parlay what was probably a corporate luncheon into a chance to personally invite Alcosta to the Forever Families gala.

“I showed one of your fund-raiser pitches to my boss this morning, and Señor Alcosta is not only excited—he’s ready to rock and roll. There are some conditions,” Jessica continued before Mia could ask how she’d gotten her hands on one of Mia’s fund-raiser pitches. “You know, I told you how picky he can be. Lunch at twelve-twelve every day. At every meeting, people have to be seated in alphabetical order. The scent of the flowers can never overpower the scent of the food. That kind of thing. I’m not kidding when I say that Alcosta is seriously particular.”

Mia flipped the page of her notebook to write that all down.

“What are you doing?”

Mia glanced up.

“Making notes for the event. A luncheon?”

“Luncheon?” Jessica laughed. “Oh, no. Bigger than that. He wants to build a new children’s hospital in Mexico City and he wants you to handle a series of events to raise the funds.”

“A series of...”

“Yeah, a whole bunch of events. Like a half dozen whatever it takes to raise twenty million. I think that’s what he’s estimating it’ll take to get started.”

Twenty-million worth of events? Holy bananas.

So many thoughts bounced through Mia’s brain. Images of all the children who’d be helped by a new hospital. The thought of the benefits of health care for thousands. And, hoo baby, multiple events, wow, the benefits to her business. If Mia had a contract like that, after Lorraine Perkins was done doing backflips, she’d hand over the Winter Ball on a golden platter. Carte blanche. No nagging, no micromanaging, no peering over Mia’s shoulder, no deep sighs over preferring to keep the job in-house.

“What does he need? I should meet with him. Do I call him directly, or is that something I set up with you?” Mia flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Do you know if he has preferences already in place? Is he open to suggestions? Will you handle carrying through the arrangements once the plans are made, or will that be my responsibility? Knowing that ahead of time will help with my bid.”

“Bid?” Jessica waved that away with a flick of her baby-doll-pink fingernails. “You don’t have to bid, Mia. The job is already yours.”

“Mine? Just like that?”

“Oh, but he’s not looking at any other event planners. The job’s yours if you want it. I mean, you’ll have to create an outline of your plans for Alcosta’s approval, of course, and adhere to his wishes and rules. And there is a wee little time crunch involved. But after the way I’ve talked you up, I’m sure you’ll get the contract.”

Oh. My.

Mia bit back the urge to get up and dance.

Twenty million. A children’s hospital. A half dozen events. All hers.

While Jessica organized her files.

Mia’s urge to dance froze.

Before she could voice her concerns, Jessica made a show of grimacing.

“Um, look. It’s no big deal,” Jessica said, her tone making it clear that it was actually a huge deal. “But I sort of put myself on the line here. You know, promised all sorts of great things about your work. That you’d take the job. That you’d do fabulous. That you were the best in the business. Stuff like that. So I’m counting on you. I’d hate for Alcosta to start thinking he can’t trust my judgment.”

Mia blinked, the weight of Jessica’s words coating her doubts with a hefty layer of guilt.

“I’ll get a hold of Alcosta and let him know how excited you are.” Jessica grabbed her cell phone and started typing. “You get a proposal together. I’ll set up the meeting. Just leave me a list of what you need done.”

And with that, Mia was alone in the kitchen with her gorgeous view and the opportunity of a lifetime. Then she glanced down with a sigh at a nagging text from her mother.

By the time Mia had finished reading message eight of nine, she was sure of two things.

One, she was definitely going after the Alcosta job.

And two, no matter how old she was, her parents were going to drive her crazy.

* * *

His mother was driving him crazy.

A woman he’d dated a grand total of three time was stalking him.

His career was over.

A year ago, Spencer Lloyd had been on top of the world. Cryptographer, lieutenant and Navy SEAL, he’d known no other way to live but to the fullest.

One bomb explosion later, his vision was impaired just enough to put him out of the SEALs, his career was over and he was living life on the edge.

The edge of sanity, that was.

Getting out of hot spots used to be Spence Lloyd’s forte.

The hotter, the better.

He’d once spent three weeks as a well-tortured guest of terrorists before engineering an escape for himself and six others, leading the way on a leg broken in four places.

He’d parachuted through heavy gunfire to take out enemy munitions before they destroyed a small city.

He’d helped rescue a kidnapped politician from a high-level prison, taking out multiple targets in the process.

Lieutenant Spencer Lloyd, former Navy SEAL and all-round fearless guy, had faced it all with confidence and equanimity.

But now, sitting in his superior officer’s office on the Coronado Naval Base for what was quite likely the last time, Spence wondered what he’d got himself into.

“Could you repeat that order, sir?”

A scowl between his bushy brows, Admiral Theodore Cade said, “Lieutenant, I need your help with my daughter.”

Yeah. That’s what Spence thought he’d said.

“Sir, you’re aware that I’m in the middle of out-processing.”

Leaving the military. Ending life as he knew—and loved—it. The Navy might accept an officer with compromised vision, but the SEALs could not. Better to leave with his dignity and his trident intact, he’d decided, than to be demoted off the team.

“The fact that you’re transitioning into civilian life is the reason you’ve been chosen for this mission, Lloyd.”

This must be a personal issue rather than a military issue, Spence realized.

“I’m breaking protocol by informing you of the benefits before I give you the details of this mission.”

“Sir, I have no expectation of benefits or recompense for a favor.”

“Which is why I’m making the offer. That, and because your talents, skills and expertise make you the right man for the job.”

His abilities as a SEAL? As a cryptographer? Spence banished the questions from his head. He’d know soon enough, so forming any ideas beforehand would be a waste of time and energy.

“It’s come to my attention that the position you’re taking upon your release from the Navy is not as opportune as it seemed.”

That was one way to put it. A huge disappointment would be another. There weren’t a bevy of challenging jobs here in the San Diego area that called for the skills of a former SEAL. And obviously Cade knew that already.

“In light of that, and in return for the personal favor I’ll detail, I’m offering you an opportunity, a shot at a future where you utilize the talents and training the finest military experience in the world taught you. An opportunity to employ those skills in civilian life.”

Was he going to sprinkle it with fairy dust and throw in a unicorn that did dishes, too?

“How?” Spence managed.

“A former SEAL of my acquaintance has started a premier security firm. This firm consists exclusively of former Special Ops personnel and handles the types of cases that require military expertise but the government finds itself unable to be involved with.”

Spence had a sudden vision of that dishwashing unicorn doing his laundry, too.

“It sounds like an excellent opportunity,” he said. “It also sounds, as you said yourself, exclusive. To offer that level of service, Special Ops won’t be enough. It’ll require a handpicked team.”

A handpicked team he’d do anything but kill to be a part of. Spence had experienced the sensations often enough before ops and missions to recognize the tingle down his spine, the tightness in his gut. Excitement. Anticipation. And a bone-deep surety that this was something he’d kick ass at.

“I am serving as a liaison between the military, the government and the head of the newly established Aegis Security. As such, my recommendation will carry weight.”

In other words, Cade was his golden ticket to the civilian career of his dreams.

“What do you need me to do?”

Spence would have made the offer even without the once-in-a-lifetime incentive, a fact that Cade knew perfectly well. His men were trained to do anything and everything asked of them. That was duty. But Spence was also acknowledging his acceptance of the confidential nature of the mission.

“It’s come to my wife’s, and therefore my, attention that our daughter is in a dangerous position. To be honest, I first considered Anne’s concerns to be motherly overprotectiveness. But the key to a successful marriage is compromise. So despite my thoughts on the matter, I gave in to her request that I use my resources to access nonclassified information on an individual who’s come into Mia’s life. That research has led me to believe that my wife’s instincts are accurate.”

Cade lifted a manila file from his desk, hesitated, then held it out. Taking it, Spence continued to watch his commander.

Whatever was in the file was backup and details for later.

For now, he waited for his orders.

“I’ve already given orders to expedite your out-processing clearances. Details, such as lodging, transport, etc., are in this file.” Cade handed over the file with the admonishment, “Keep in mind, this is a covert operation. You’ll need to fit into the environment convincingly in order to secure your objective.”

“And the objective is?”

“Gain my daughter’s trust, keep her safe and end her association—on all levels—with Santiago Alcosta, while ensuring that her reputation is not damaged and her business not impacted. There is an event being held in San Francisco in three days. Your mission starts there.”

“How deep is my cover?”

“Use your own name and whatever personal history you feel is necessary to make your role convincing. Your rank, your time in the military and your connection to me are all classified.”

Maybe it was his near-civilian status, but Spence heard himself ask, “You’re ordering me to lie to the target? To your daughter?”

Like any commanding officer giving a morally questionable order, Cade didn’t even blink.

“Affirmative. This mission is and will remain classified. Standard protocols.” Cade gestured to the door. “You have your orders. I expect them to be carried out, Lieutenant.”

Chapter 2

All the best missions included careful planning, the right equipment, good weapons and the potential for danger.

This, sadly, was not one of those.

It’d taken him three days to prepare. Travel and arranging to stay at a buddy’s apartment in San Francisco had been easy enough. Negotiating a concealed weapons permit as a civilian had necessitated pulling a lot of strings, and getting his hands on the main equipment the admiral ordered—a fitted tuxedo—had taken even longer.

As far as the potential for danger went, after reading through the file and then doing the basic research any covert op required, Spence had come to the conclusion that while Alcosta came from so much dirt and the man was filthy by association, Alcosta’s own business practices were on the up-and-up. Since plenty of government agencies had reached the same conclusion, he was pretty sure that this mission was on par with a babysitting job.

A babysitting job that paid really well, Spence reminded himself. Besides, if he scored a position with Aegis, providing personal security would quite likely be part of the work description. Hopefully for high-level politicians, notable scientists and other high-risk VIPs, instead of his former commanding officer’s do-gooder daughter.

But an assignment was an assignment, he reminded himself as he strode down the hallway toward the ballroom, his motorcycle boots echoing with each step.

The only problem was, in the week since receiving the admiral’s orders, he hadn’t quite nailed down the specifics of infiltrating the daughter’s world. Maybe something with security. He’d figure it out once he’d assessed the situation. He hadn’t earned the call sign Improv for nothing.

With no plan more solid than making contact, Spence stepped into the sun-drenched ballroom, watching people scramble around like confused ants, arms filled with linens, peacock feathers and, for some weird reason, paintbrushes.

“Mia, half the tablecloths are missing.”

Spence looked around for his objective. Mia Cade.

According to the file, she was a willowy five-ten. Admiral Cade hadn’t included a photo, so Spence found himself searching for a thinner version of the admiral.

But there didn’t seem to be any white-haired, heavy-jowled women striding through the ballroom, with hands clasped behind their back while scowling at the workers scurrying around.

He did see a very tempting backside, though.

Her long, bare neck emphasized delicate shoulders and a slender back, wrapped in a vivid green tunic that draped over the sweet, tight curves of her butt encased in black leggings. He couldn’t be sure of her actual height since her knee-high boots had heels, but he’d put it close to five-ten.

She was either the target or the woman he’d be making breakfast for.

He angled to the left, wanting a better look.

“Excuse me.”

Spence shifted to one side to let a four-foot urn of flowers with legs pass.

Spence gave an appreciative hum when the sexy woman bent over to lift a cardboard box. Damned if that position didn’t give him a few intriguing ideas. His smile spread as he wondered if she’d do it again, to music.

His mind added a bluesy beat while he watched the woman’s backside as she handed the box off to a curly-haired blonde wearing a walkie-talkie and hoped like hell the sexy rear view didn’t belong to Cade’s daughter.

If luck was with him, the woman with the sexy backside had nothing to do with Mia Cade. Instead, he’d make contact with the target, she’d mention how cool it’d be to have a little security help and hire him, then introduce her sexy, dancing assistant, who’d want him working with her side by side.

Yeah. Spence could see that happening.

“Mia, the crystal is here but the cutlery is missing. Three waiters have called out sick and the, um, cellist? Is that what that says?” Tucking the box under one arm, the blonde held out a note. “Cellist? That’s the big violin, right? The sad-sounding thing?”

Damn. The sexy view was Mia Cade. Lust punctured like a dart in a balloon.

The last time he’d had luck like this, he’d lost his night vision.

“Dude, you’re right in the line of traffic.”

While Spence sidestepped the man wheeling in a dozen cases of wine on a dolly, his fantasy hurried off, leaving the blonde with a box anchored under one arm and a clipboard in the other.

Disappointment piercing his gut like a piece of shrapnel, Spence lasered in on the blonde, figuring her as his best in with his target.

“Excuse me.”

The blonde glanced up from the clipboard and pursed her lips as she got a good look at him. Brows arching, she gave a flirtatious flutter of her lashes.

“What can I do for you?” she purred. “I’m willing to do anything. Anything at all.”

“I’d like to speak with the lady in charge.”

The blonde stopped fluttering.

“You want Mia?” she asked, giving him a suspicious once-over. “Why?”

“I just need a second to talk with her. Why don’t I help you with that?” He gestured to the box.

“You’re here to help? Mia said Karen might send someone over. Great.” Practically tossing the box his way, the blonde gestured with her clipboard. “The way Mia organizes things, these events are usually a walk in the park. But I’ll be impressed if she manages to pull this one off.”

Someone yelled. Spence glanced over as the guy ran his dolly through the puddle of broken glass, mangled flowers and splattered water. He arched a brow when the florist scooped up a handful of bruised posies and whacked the other man with them.

“Things do look a little disorganized.”

“Mia’s usually on top of everything. She has a reputation as the queen of organized. But this is a mondo major event and her latest assistant flaked.” The blonde winced when the dolly guy pushed back. “This one only lasted three days—go figure. You’d think a person could handle a little constructive criticism while they’re learning the ropes of a new job, right?”

“You’d think,” Spence agreed, following her gesture to the small side room already piled high with boxes, and adding his to the stack the blonde gestured toward. “So, what’s the problem?”

“The assistant couldn’t handle a few accidents and mix-ups.”

“What kind of accidents?”

“Nothing big. One time the ninny forgot to set the emergency brake on Mia’s van and it rolled down a hill into a street sign. She sprained her shoulder when a stack of boxes fell on her in the storeroom. Once she slipped on ice in Mia’s kitchen, landed on her butt while screaming her head off.” The blonde rolled her eyes as if screaming was a stupid way to deal with a fall. “Throw in a minor bout of food poisoning, a broken stair rail and a minor electrical shock, and the gal claimed the job was jinxed.”

“That’s a lot of accidents,” Spence agreed. “This was over what period of time?”

A month? Three?

“Six days.”

“All of that happened in less than a week?” Spence stopped in his tracks. “Did this woman experience all of these accidents when she was with Mia?”

“Mia wasn’t always there. But sure, Roxie was on the clock when they happened.” The blonde gestured for Spence to move out of the storeroom. “Mia even offered hazard pay until this event was over. But no. Despite the fact that Mia has a huge event and a major client on the line, the woman was too much of a weenie to even try.”

“Is that so?” Glancing around the makings of the huge event, Spence wondered if Alcosta was the major client.

“It is definitely so.” With a roll of her eyes, she gestured for Spence to follow her as she skirted around the people mopping up water and mangled flowers. “You look like a talented guy, though. I’m sure that you can handle it.”

He looked around the ballroom, noting the multitude of issues dripping off tables, spilling across the floor and arguing on the carpeted dais.

“I’ve handled worse.” Figuring she could give him the ins and outs of the job, he offered up a friendly smile. “You seem to know a lot about the position and it’s requirements. Do you work for Mia, too?”

“Nope. I’m Clair. I’m Mrs. Perkins’ assistant. She’s the head of the Forever Families Foundation. She hires Mia to coordinate events like this one. Turns out, Mia’s great at finding ways to get rich people to dig deeper and donate more.”

“Speaking of Ms. Cade, any idea where I might find her?”

The blonde gave him another strip-you-naked once-over before gesturing toward a narrow hallway.

“She’s fighting with the chef over tonight’s meal.”

“Fighting? Sounds dangerous,” he murmured. “I’ll go do what I can to make sure she wins.”

He headed for what he assumed was the kitchen, but not before he heard the blonde murmur, “Mmm, I like the way you think.”

Figuring he had a solid handle on both the job itself and the lay of the land, Spence formulated the rest of his cover as he strode into the kitchen. He’d thought the ballroom was chaos, but it had nothing on the bedlam that was the stainless steel monstrosity of a kitchen.

White-clad workers scurried through the cavernous space like confused ants, many of them cowering each time the bulbous man in the center of the room bellowed orders and insults.

Yet over the babbling, bellowing and other kitchen noises, one voice caught his attention. Intrigued by the husky tone, it took a few seconds for the words to sink in.

“I’m so glad you’ll be joining us. Of course I’ll save you a dance, Señor Alcosta.” She paused just long enough for Spence to slip farther into the room. “Yes, absolutely. I’d be happy to meet with you Monday at noon. Your offices? Sounds great.”

Looked like the intel was right.

Spence had never once questioned orders, but he’d figured the admiral was overestimating the seriousness if this particular mission.

But now, given the list of accidents Mia Cade had nearly missed, and that she was definitely in contact with Alcosta, Spence decided those orders might be a little more serious than he’d thought. Prepared to report for duty, Spence strode into the kitchen. His friendly smile froze when he saw the woman pacing, phone in hand, in front of the walk-in freezer.

Damn.

She was even better looking from the front.

Her features were both delicate and sharp, in a triangular face dominated by huge amber eyes, lushly lashed and tilted at the corners. Knife’s-edge cheekbones seemed to point toward a wide mouth currently cajoling the chef with a creative litany of threats, praise and bribes.

Hair so black it reflected the overhead lights was cut almost as short as his but for a long sweep of bangs that swept across one arched eyebrow, curving nearly to her chin.

The front of the tunic crossed in front to gather at her hip, accenting her willowy figure. Throw in that husky voice that made even the mundane argument about lobster presentation sound sexy, and he was pretty sure she was the most tempting woman he’d ever encountered.

This was Cade’s daughter?

Damn, Spence thought again, this time in pure appreciation. He’d give a lot to get a good look at Mrs. Cade.

Even as he thought that, the woman ended her call, slipped her phone into her pocket and gave the chef a friendly smile.

“Now, as we were saying...”

And they were off, arguing over something to do with lobster, arugula and risotto. He watched as, obviously losing the verbal disagreement, the chef opted for physical intimidation. They were about the same height, but the chef had a good two hundred pounds on her, so Spence quickly stepped into the room.

“Look, missy, this is my kitchen,” the bull-shaped man growled. “I run it. I cook in it. I call the shots. You want me to cook this meal tonight, I serve it my way.”

“Actually, Jacques, I appreciate creative license a great deal, but you signed a contract to prepare a very specific meal. A delicious meal I know everyone is looking forward to. That’s what I expect you to serve tonight.”

“Contracts be damned. I serve what I choose to cook, and people are grateful.”

“Look, buddy,” the woman he assumed was Mia snapped, jabbing her finger into the guy’s chest. “The florist sent the wrong flowers. The supplier, instead of delivering midnight-blue tablecloths, sent navy. And the tapers are twelve-inch ecru instead of eleven-inch cream. I’ve had enough mix-ups for one event. So I suggest, very strongly, that you do what you agreed before I make you regret it.”

Spence had seen that look on people’s faces before. Usually right before they fired a gun. So he decided to intervene before the sexy brunette sent the chef to the hospital.

“Sorry,” he said, offering up his most charming smile as he stepped between them. “I thought Ms. Cade was in charge.”

“This is my kitchen, sir.”

“My mistake.” With just a twitch of his shoulders, Spence shifted into intimidation mode. His smile didn’t change. His tone remained friendly. But from the pinprick of fear in the beefy man’s eyes, he got the message just fine. “I’m just the kind of guy who believes in agreements.”

“But—”

“And believe me, the last thing I ever want to do is let a beautiful woman down when she’s counting on me to keep my word.”

Those beady eyes shifted from Spence to Mia and back before the chef nodded so fast, his big white hat wobbled.

“The menu will be to your specifications, Ms. Cade. I’ll get to work right away.”

“I know Mia’s got a lot to deal with, so while she’s busy, I’ll check back to see how it’s going back here,” Spence said, with just enough threat in his tone to make the chef’s grimace quiver before he nodded his understanding.

“I’m glad we managed to get that settled,” Mia said in a tone that sounded anything but. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a few things to deal with in the ballroom.”

We, meaning she and he, Spence realized when Mia dug her fingers into his forearm and gave a subtle tug. Whether she’d had enough drama for the time being or to save his ego, she waited until they were out of the kitchen to turn on him like a rabid tiger.

Those fairy-queen eyes gleaming with outrage, she bared her teeth in a smile that radiated threat and warning.

“I have three questions for you,” she said, her words as low and quiet as an unexploded IED. “First off, what exactly do you think you’re doing interfering with me like that? Second, do I in any way appear incapable of handing my own business? And third, just for fun, who the hell are you?”

“First, I thought I was doing my job. Second, you actually appear capable of handling absolutely anything.” He’d expect nothing less from one of Cade’s daughters. “And third, I’m Spence Lloyd. Nice to meet you.”

He held out his hand to shake.

She glanced at his hand, arched one brown brow and waited.

“You need a new assistant, right? I’m here to help you out.”

For a solid three second, she simply stared.

“Did Karen send you? She usually calls me before she sends someone.”

“I guess she didn’t have a chance.”

Obviously a strong believer in the talk-while-you-walk principle, Mia gestured for him to come along. Glad he’d passed the first hurdle, Spence followed in her wake, telling himself to focus on her words instead of staring at her.

“I’ll need to see your résumé and a list of references, then. I don’t have time right now but can you have them to me by the end of the day?”

“No problem.” That’d give him time to gather enough intel to fake a few and figure out who Karen actually was. And speaking of intel... “Speaking of problems, I hear this job should come with hazard pay.”

“Only if you’re a wimp,” Mia said dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Who tries to get out of forgetting to set the parking brake in San Francisco by claiming that someone is trying to kill them?”

Kill them? There were those red flags again, waving wildly for attention.

“Any chance any of those accidents almost happened to you, too?”

“What? Look, we have work to do.” She shot him an impatient look. “I’m not sure if Karen went over the outline of tonight’s event, but I assume you have the basics. So while I deal with the florist mix-up, you oversee the table setups.” She gestured to the only set table in the ballroom, with its fancy-ass settings, complete with colored tablecloths, a round mirror, flowers, candles and class.

“You can handle that, right?”

No.

But he’d led twelve-man covert missions into enemy territory with the goal of taking out insurgents without leaving a trace.

He could handle a few table settings.

“Tell me the order again.” He gave a self-deprecating shrug. “I always like to double-check things.”

“White floor-length tablecloths partially covered by what should have been shorter tablecloths in midnight blue but are navy instead, with the bead-rimmed mirrored tray in the center. Reverse order on the tables on the dais. Got that?”

Whiskey. November. Mike. Victor. Three Charlies and a handful of foxtrot. Spence nodded. “Got it.”

“The florist knows to put the gardenia sculptures on the lower tables and orchids on the others, but I’d appreciate it if you’d double-check to make sure it’s correct.”

Sure. Just as soon as someone pointed out the difference between a gardenia and an orchid.

“You’re sure?” Still assessing, those fairy eyes stared into his with enough intensity to make Spence wonder if the woman thought she could see into his brain. Still, when five seconds turned into ten, he felt a nervous tingle not even the hardest hard-ass commanding officer had ever managed with the darkest threats or demeaning insults.

“You want the tables covered with fabric, flowers and candles. You want me to order people around to make sure they do it right. Right,” he added, “meaning your way.”

Grinning, she shot one finger his way. “You catch on fast. We’re going to get along great.”

He liked the way she took charge without making a big deal out of being in charge. Unlike the insecure blonde, Mia knew her own power. Damned if that wasn’t sexy.

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine,” he agreed, his own smile slow and easy.

Something flashed in her eyes but was gone too fast for him to identify, replaced instead by professional friendliness.

“If you need anything, let me know. I’ll be around.”

“Actually, I need some time with you later.”

Her eyes flashed again, but this time he could clearly read the caution. Smart woman. He appreciated a certain amount of caution, but not if it got in the way of his mission.

So he dimmed his smile down a few notches, going for safe.

“I just want to get a few things nailed down when you have time,” he told her in his mellowest tone. “Job details, duties, responsibilities. That sort of thing.”

“Oh. Sure, yeah. We’ll get to that.” She made a show of grimacing at her watch, then looking around the room. Spence followed her gaze, figuring her for one hell of an optimist if she actually believed she’d be holding a ball in here tonight. “Well. Lots to do. Busy-busy.”

With her eyes still searching his, she bit her lip but didn’t move. Good. It gave Spence longer to breathe in her scent, the rich notes reminding him of a garden in the moonlight.

“Just to clarify, this thing tonight is pretty formal, right?”

She blinked, her lashes so thick he was surprised she could hold those pretty amber eyes open.

“Seeing as I’m your right hand, I assume I should be here?”

“I actually prefer to have staff begin working with me at smaller events first. That gives me a chance to walk through my process with a little less pressure.”

Spence looked around with an arched brow. She called this pressure? Whether it was the look on his face, a sudden leap of faith or she really needed help, though, Mia finally gave a shrug.

“Actually, sure. I’m sure I can use your help. But it is black-tie.” She gave him a look as hopeful as it was doubtful. “Can you get your hands on a tux by six?”

He could think of a dozen things he’d rather get his hands on—including the woman in front of him. Since none of them—including Mia—were on his mission list, he opted for a simple, “You can count on me.”

Mia’s smile flashed, both sweet and grateful, before she answered a summons from a frantic-looking woman waving from the other side of the room.

Spence indulged in a moment to appreciate the sway of her hips as she hurried across the marble floor before reviewing his current op-stat.

ASCOPE recon complete, he had a solid handle on the area, structure, capability, organization, people and event in question.

He’d made contact, established his cover and elicited trust. He’d verified the possibility of threat, garnered the necessary names and time frame to investigate, and had confirmed the connection with the enemy.

He considered this a good start for his first hour on the job, befitting years of SEAL training.

Now he looked around with a grimace; it was time to set some tables.

* * *

My.

My, oh my, oh my.

Mia pressed her lips together to make sure she wasn’t drooling.

Karen had outdone herself, big-time.

Spence.

Mia knew she should have gotten his last name. But name or not, she was pretty sure she had his number.

Sexy, powerful and take-charge, the man had a gorgeous smile, piercing gray eyes and a butt so tight, she would bet she could bounce quarters off it. Add tousled hair with that hint of auburn and kissable lips that quirked in a sexy smile and Mia would rank him at the very top of the best-looking-men-she’d-ever-seen list.

If the guy was anywhere as good at handling events as he was at looking incredible, Mia was sure that her business was going to explode.

She watched him lean across the table to adjust the vase to the precise center, tilting her head to better appreciate the denim-clad view. The man’s body was perfectly formed. Long, and lean with mucles sculpted in all the right places.

She knew she was objectifying a man she’d barely met. And she really should stop. Mia blew out a long, slow breath when he straightened, wondering if those shoulders were as sexy bare as they were covered in a black cotton tee.

Okay, she was sure everything about him looked good bare.

Not that she’d ever find out.

First off, the man worked for her now. So trying to see him naked was a really bad idea.

Second, with tonight’s event for Forever Families as the latest example, her career was taking off, and big things were happening. Which meant she couldn’t split her focus by dealing with other big things right now.

And third and most important, Mia had spent her formative years surrounded by strong men. Take-charge men. Men with major control issues. A half a lifetime watching them taught her to recognize trouble when she was staring at it.

“Mia?”

She’d always prided herself in being too smart to fall for a guy she knew was so wrong for her just because his body made her want to drool.

“Excuse me? Mia?”

Still, look at the way he moved. Pure poetry in masculine motion.

“Yo, earth to Mia.”

“What?”

Thankfully Pierre chose that moment to roll a dolly of wine across the ballroom floor, obscuring her view of Spence and breaking the spell.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted. What did you say?” she said, giving Clair a distracted look.

“I had a few questions for you.” The perky blonde aimed an arch look across the room. “If you’re not busy, of course.”

Huge gala, major client, important event.

Focus, focus, focus, Mia thought, ripping her thoughts away for the temptation of her new assistant. Instead, she gave Clair her most professional smile and gestured with her clipboard.

“Let’s go over the checklist, shall we?”

“Is there anything to check off? I thought it was all falling apart.” There was just enough maliciousness in Clair’s voice to turn Mia’s smile icy.

“Nothing’s falling apart,” Mia denied. “According to my notes, we’re right on schedule.”

“I thought there was an issue with the florist. And the menu. And late deliveries.”

A big proponent of keeping all event planning in-house, Clair always reported every mistake, every ruffled expression and every single possible screwup to Lorraine—in duplicate. Mia knew plenty of event coordinators hated that sort of thing, but she told herself to be grateful. But Mia dealt with it by telling herself that Clair’s tattling tendencies simply pushed her to use all of her organizational and efficiency skills, pushing her to work even harder to put on the best event possible.

“The florist is in the process of correcting their mistake and will have the correct arrangements delivered within the hour. The winery donated an extra eight cases in apology,” Mia corrected, going down each item on the rest of her list, point by point. Her smile widened with every degree that Clair’s dimmed. By the time she’d reached the end of her list, Clair was frowning and Mia’s cheekbones hurt.

“And how’s your list of tasks coming along?” Leaning from the waist, Mia made a show of checking Clair’s clipboard. The other woman slapped it against her chest.

“Fine. We’re doing great. I’m totally on schedule.” In an obvious subject change, Clair made a show of looking across the room, blew out a breath and waved her hand to cool the air. “Now that we’ve settled that, spill. Where’d you get that yummy treat?”

“You mean Spence? He’s my new assistant.”

Despite her best effort not to, Mia followed Clair’s gaze until she found him.

Spence.

Tall, dark and bossy.

Powerful enough to intimidate, but charming enough to get things done without needing to. She barely bit back a hum of appreciation when he lifted his arm to motion for the florist to stop and the muscles in his arm rippled. Who knew bossing a flower sculptor around could be so sexy?

Swiping her finger under her lower lip to make sure she wasn’t drooling, she added finding an appropriate thank-you gift for Karen to her to-do list.

“Someone want to help me with these pedestals?”

Mia watched three men lift one of the pedestals, all straining to move it a foot to the right so they could set up the main art display. Spence grabbed the other himself, wrapping his arms around the carved post. His biceps bulged under the sleeves of his black tee as he lifted, effortlessly moving the marble cylinder three feet to the left.

Oh boy, did he have a way of moving.

Get to work, Mia reminded herself. She had floral arrangements to check, an ice sculpture to track down and eight artists to mollify. None of that would get done if she was ogling her new assistant.

“Is that really your new assistant?” Clair asked, as if reading her mind. “Talk about lucky.”

“He does seem to be excellent at his job,” Mia agreed.

“Who cares about his job skills?” Clair said dismissively. “The man is gorgeous.”

“His job skills are what matter to me,” Mia claimed, only half-truthfully. Because those shoulders did indeed make her wonder what other skills the man had.

“Are you sure? Because if you aren’t interested, I’m going for it,” Clair said, giving her a light shoulder bump. “I’ll bet I’m just his type.”

“He’s not here to be hit on,” Mia objected, not sure if she was protesting out of outrage over the poor man being objectified or if a part of her really did want to keep him for herself. Either way, as far as she was concerned, the objection stood. “He’s here to help organize events, not to be treated like a hunk of meat. Speaking of events, we both have plenty of work to do.”

Clair looked like she wanted to argue, but after a few seconds she rolled her eyes and shrugged.

“Fine,” she said in a huff, tucking her clipboard under one arm and heading back to work. But not before she threw over her shoulder, “But you do have to admit, that is one sexy man.”

“Ms. Cade?”

As Mia hurried across the room to meet the head of security, she made a point not to so much as look Spence’s way. Still, she couldn’t deny that Clair was right.

Spence was the hottest assistant she’d ever had.

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.