Insatiable

She frowned. She’d done it again. “You know what I meant.”

“Actually, Samantha, I don’t know. My grandmothers put more than my picture on that pasta label. In the small print, they listed my company position, the fact that I am still single and unattached, as well as a generous estimate of my net worth.”

She pressed her lips together to contain another grin at his expense. “What were they trying to do, marry you off?”

His grim expression told her she’d hit the nail on the head.

“You’re kidding!” And she thought her mother was bad, what with the gris-gris bags left on her doorstep and rows of candles lit at St. Louis Cathedral in hopes Samantha would finally find a man and settle down. “Very ingenious women, your grandmothers.” No hocus-pocus for them. Just good old-fashioned bribery. “They have a conduit to the general public, a product to sell—” she gestured toward him “—and at the same time, they increase sales by forty-six percent.”

“Forty-seven,” he corrected, not bothering to disguise his grouse as he tore off his striped tie and threw it on the couch.

“Forty-seven,” she conceded, her gaze riveted as he twisted open the buttons at his collar. When he stopped at his breastbone, she glanced away, disappointed. Suddenly, she wanted another peek at that full-size pasta label, live and in person. “I’d like to meet your grandmothers sometime. But let’s keep them away from my mother, okay? I don’t want them giving her any ideas.”

She motioned toward the bedroom door. He nodded his agreement to allow her search. No time like the present to demonstrate her diligence, especially when it would keep her from making a fool of herself by staring.

Flipping on the lights, she scanned the bedroom for unlawful entry and found none. The door to the outer hall, a secondary entrance so the room could be rented as a single when the suite was not in use, had an automatic lock. As far as she could tell, even the maid hadn’t yet arrived. The bed, a rumpled storm of sheets and pillows, appeared untouched by anyone but Nick.

A copy of Mario Puzo’s last hardcover lay on the nightstand, draped by a pair of thin gold, wire-rimmed glasses. Without much effort, she pictured the spectacles sitting on the bridge of Dominick’s regal Grecian nose as he lay in bed, propped up by the half-dozen silky shams that littered the bed in sensuous disarray. Bare-chested, with a sheet draping him from the waist down, just enough to make her wonder exactly what, if anything, he wore to sleep…

“I bet you would.”

She jumped at the sound of his voice. “Bet I would what?”

He leaned against the doorjamb, no less dressed than he was a moment ago, yet sinfully more sexy. “Want to meet my grandmothers?” He straightened, apparently misinterpreting the alarm on her face. “Do you see something out of place? Has someone been in my room?”

She shook her head, wondering if offering her services was a huge and horrible mistake. Here she thought she was immune to good-looking men like Dominick LaRocca. More like addicted, judging from her behavior so far. Standing in his bedroom, even one he’d rented for a few nights, heightened his presence. His cologne clung to the air. A damp towel, no doubt from his morning shower, was draped over a chair. A drawer in the dresser, not completely closed, cradled clothing that had once, or would soon, cling intimately to his skin.

“Everything looks fine.” She slipped past him, holding her breath to keep from inhaling his scent when her shoulder touched his. “Except the maid service runs slow around here. I’ll want to talk to hotel management about who they plan to send here and when.” She stood beside his computer and crossed her arms over her chest. She simply needed to assume a more professional demeanor. If she was going to be an effective bodyguard, she had to stop thinking about his body.

“That’s if I hire you,” he reminded her with a boyish, mischievous wink that managed to clip her steady heartbeat.

Oh, no. She wasn’t falling for his charm that easily.

“Why wouldn’t you hire me? Because I’m a woman?”

Thankfully, he sat in one of the overstuffed chairs opposite the couch instead of joining her beside the conference table. Negotiations had begun and she needed the distance to think clearly.

“Precisely because you’re a woman, and I don’t mean that in the way you think. Don’t you think your offer to protect me is a bit too convenient, in light of my circumstances?”

“You think I’m scheming to marry you?”

Sleep with you, maybe. Marry? Not in your wildest dreams, pal.

“A month ago, I’d expect to be slapped for such presumptuousness. But after being swarmed at the Expo, attacked at the airport and flashed by women wearing starched lace collars and prim business suits, nothing surprises me about the feminine gender anymore.”

She nodded, understanding his reluctance. She was, after all, single and not totally invulnerable to his combustible combination of roguish good looks, power and charm. Hell, she’d have to be dead to ignore this man’s Mediterranean magnetism. But despite her current need for a serious cash influx, his millions were probably a drop in the bucket compared to the return investment she’d receive from her father’s next film.

“Have you ever heard of Devlin Deveaux?” she asked.

He repeated the name a few times. “Hmm. Hollywood type? Won some sort of award.”

“His films have won twelve Golden Globes and he’s been nominated for two Oscars.”

“Oh, yes. The director. Does those action films. Why do you ask?”

“He’s my father.”

He stared at her blankly.

“He’s really rich,” she explained.

He still didn’t get it.

She spoke slowly. “I don’t need to marry for money.”

He nodded, but smirked, obviously not convinced. “You don’t have his money now, or you wouldn’t be working as a security guard.”

“True. I invested a hunk of cash in his next film and spent the rest moving back to Louisiana,” she explained, leaving out the little detail that investing in Devlin’s film was neither her idea nor her preference. Her father had once again found a way to keep her in his life through the money he owed her for her stunt work. “Once Honor Guard hits the theaters, I could end up with enough money to buy your company.”

Her bravado inspired his quirky grin—one she instantly discovered she liked. A lot.

“The film-going public can be fickle,” he pointed out.

“True again. But if this movie doesn’t make it, his next one will. The fact is, if I ever really needed to, I could ask my father for money. Or my mother. She’s very comfortable. I don’t need to sacrifice my freedom to live the high life, which, by the way, I don’t want to live. Been there, done that. My interest in you is purely professional. My goal is to be a bodyguard, not a temporary security guard or, God forbid, someone’s wife.”

Dominick leaned back in the chair and assessed her coolly. “And you think my hiring an inexperienced bodyguard is a wise choice?”

She couldn’t help admiring the pace of the man’s thinking. He was quick, but so was she. “That inexperience saved you today, didn’t it? I’ve been around celebrities all my life. I know what bodyguards do. I had my own bodyguard until I turned twenty-one. I’m a black belt in tae kwan do, I’m licensed to carry a concealed weapon and I have completed courses in threat assessment, security systems and access control.”

He balanced his elbows on the armrests of the chair, steepling his fingers as he considered her speech. “You have a fine résumé, but what if I don’t want a shadow wherever I go?”

“Better a shadow than potentially dangerous women.”

He nodded, clearly still deliberating as he dialed Anita’s cell phone and instructed her to find Tim Tousignant and tell him he needed Samantha until the Expo Hall was prepared for his rescheduled appearance at three o’clock. He then dialed room service and ordered fresh coffee.

He cupped his hand over the receiver. “Would you like anything?”

“Am I staying for lunch?”

“Your proposition has merits, but requires discussion.”

“Do they have jambalaya on the menu?”

He asked and assured her they did.

“It probably isn’t very good. Hotel food, you know.”

He asked and assured her it would be excellent.