Covert Makeover. Mallory Kane
please. Get a room,” Rachel said, chuckling.
It was a much-needed break in the tension.
Sean stood, wiping the grin off his face. “Let’s take our places. We have about a half hour, and if they come early, I want to be ready.” He headed for the door.
Sophie put her hands to her burning cheeks. Rachel’s offhand remark to Sean Majors had come way too close to the dream she’d had the past two nights that she couldn’t seem to shake. A dream in which he’d done exactly what Rachel had said. He’d managed to rid her of her skirt, make a mess of her blouse, and run his hands up the silk-clad length of her thigh.
She’d woken up shocked and uncomfortably aware of her body’s unfulfilled needs. She never had those kinds of dreams. Ever.
As she followed him down the marble staircase into the main salon ahead of her, she took the opportunity to study him. What was so different about this man that he showed up in her dreams?
Then, when he’d appeared this morning, driving a truck containing the logo of Weddings Your Way’s landscape service, and dressed as a hired gardener, Sophie had found herself facing another, equally intriguing side of him.
Gone was the impeccably dressed young executive. His faded green T-shirt with the ripped-out sleeves exposed tanned, well-muscled biceps and emphasized his broad shoulders. A pair of ancient jeans molded his lean hips and powerful thighs. The jeans had to be ten years old or more. No designer on Earth made prefaded jeans that fit like that. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he donned the frayed baseball cap.
Isabelle, walking beside her, nudged her, then nodded at Sean’s jeans-clad butt. Sophie’s face heated up again. She sent Isabelle a stiff smile.
Still, she couldn’t deny Isabelle’s message. Her coworker was right. Botero’s chief of security was sexy as hell.
She’d already acknowledged to herself that he was extraordinarily handsome. But today he looked earthy and supremely male, nothing like the sophisticated executive who’d grilled her about everything she’d seen on the day of the kidnapping.
This man, with his hair curling slightly around the edge of his cap and his strong neck and excellent body, exuded danger—the kind of danger that had gotten Sophie in trouble years ago. The kind of danger she’d avoided ever since she was seventeen.
At the bottom of the stairs, he stopped and waited for her. His face was solemn, his jaw tight, but she didn’t miss the flicker of his eyelids as he checked out her skirt and her legs.
“You sure you can walk in those things?”
She stopped one step from the bottom. In her three-inch heels, she was almost six feet tall, and standing on the step above him, she was able to look down on the six-foot-two security chief.
“Pretty sure,” she said primly. “I’ve been doing it for years.”
His eyes were back to clear teal blue today, reflecting the faded green of his T-shirt. He took a step backward. “I’ll be trimming the shrubbery on the west side of the house. I won’t notice anything until you start across the cul-de-sac. Then I’ll look up. It would be too obvious if I ignored—” he stopped for an instant, then gestured toward her “—all that.”
She lowered her gaze and suppressed a smile as she stepped off the stairs, her heels clicking on the marble floor. She wasn’t unmoved by his obvious admiration of her figure. She wouldn’t be human if it didn’t please her that a man as handsome as he was found her attractive.
Rafe headed out the back door, through the pool area, to check on the video-surveillance setup. Isabelle followed Rafe, and Rachel had remained upstairs. She would watch from the third floor.
“You know where Montoya has positioned the long-range rifles. They will be trained on the pickup men. They obviously can’t be too close, because of the width of the cul-de-sac. There’s nowhere to hide.”
She nodded. “Two are in the next house down, and one is on the roof of Weddings Your Way.”
Sean touched her arm. “Don’t worry. We’ve got you covered.”
The brush of his hand against the sleeve of her blouse was reassuring. She looked down. “Your fingernails.”
He frowned at her and glanced down at his hand.
“They’re not dirty.” She touched one square-cut nail.
“Trust me, they won’t be looking at me.” He smiled at her and her heart fluttered. “Now I’m going outside and getting to work. I need to be sweaty and totally focused on my job when they get here.”
Sophie swallowed and nodded.
“Remember, don’t exit the building until two minutes after six. Even though they specified six o’clock, I doubt they’ll approach until they see you. Just walk straight across the cul-de-sac, set the plastic bag down under the sign, and turn and walk back. Don’t look back. Don’t react to the sound of the car. Just walk, don’t run, back to the building and get inside. Got it?”
She took a long breath. “Got it.”
Sean went out the back door, leaving Sophie alone in the cavernous, elegant main salon of Weddings Your Way. She stepped over to the front doors, beside the bag that contained the ridiculous sum of money the kidnappers had demanded.
Checking her watch, she saw that she had seven minutes until she could open the double doors and walk out. It was going to be a very long seven minutes.
SEAN SNAPPED viciously at the shrubs with the pruning shears, not cutting anything, but working up a sweat. With dark sunglasses and his baseball cap, it should be easy to observe the action without being obvious about it. He hacked at the greenery a few more times, then lifted his cap and wiped his brow with his forearm. Not hard to work up a sweat in Miami in July.
He checked his watch. Two minutes after six. Where was Sophie? He put his cap back on and pushed his sunglasses up onto his forehead. The hot Miami sun gave everything a bright, overexposed look. The three immense houses visible on the street reflected the sunlight like polished metal. The street itself shimmered in the hot still air. With a flip of his head he dropped the shades back down onto his nose and squinted up the road beyond the cul-de-sac sign. Nothing. Not even a garbage truck.
He wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t expected the pickup men to show themselves before the drop was made. He was sure they were watching. He had that itchy back-of-the-neck feeling. They would probably wait until Sophie had set down the sack and gone back inside. They might even wait until dark.
He reached behind his back and patted his paddle holster. His T-shirt barely hid it, but it had to do. He wasn’t about to let her walk out there without his personal protection. He’d allowed her to become embroiled in this and he wasn’t going to breathe easily until she was safe.
He heard the faint rhythmic clicking that signaled Sophie’s high heels on the marble terrace at the front entrance.
She walked across the terrace and stepped off the curb onto the paved driveway. She moved slowly and deliberately, her head held high, her fingers wrapped securely around the bag. He knew it was heavy, about forty pounds. But she seemed to manage it without too much of a problem.
Sean used the tail of his T-shirt to wipe sweat off his cheeks and neck, never taking his eyes off her sleek, perfect figure. From her silky blond hair to her even features, to that dynamite figure and those incredible legs, she looked to him like the perfect woman.
If he were interested, she’d be just his type. Of course, he wasn’t. Not at all. He had Michaela, plus a more than full-time job. He didn’t have the time or the inclination to date.
Still, there was something about Sophie Brooks that appealed to him on a primal level. He enjoyed looking at the female form, especially one as sexy and sleek as hers. But it was more than just her looks that drew him. It was her attitude. Her demeanor.
Something