Pleasure Island Page 5

  I reached the bottom of the stairs, the bracelet still fighting me like a bitch. My under-caffeinated brain was colluding against me, and my fingers seemed to be covered with butter.

  Giving it up, I dropped the bracelet into the small interior pocket of my two-piece pantsuit. At the door, I peered through the peephole.

  I didn’t recognize the man on the other side.

  Young, brown hair, fairly tall.

  He was wearing a suit, too, so he wasn’t here with some package from the UPS.

  My dad’s warning whispered to life in the back of my brain, and instead of opening the door, I reached for the intercom button.

  I was showing caution. Dad should be proud.

  “May I help you?” I said into the intercom.

  From where I stood watching him, I could see as he turned his head toward the speaker.

  He pushed the button to reply back.

  “I’m here to see Mila Golding. I’m her new bodyguard.”

  I gaped at the door.

  Bodyguard?

  Throwing caution to the wind, I jerked open the door and looked him over from head to toe.

  Tall, good-looking – younger than me, if I had to guess – but the muscles under his suit looked pretty impressive, and he met my eyes levelly as I continued to stare at him.

  “Did you say bodyguard?” I demanded.

  “Yes.” He flashed an ID badge at me, and I grabbed it, pulling it up so I could scrutinize it.

  It only took about five seconds to figure out what was going on.

  Steadman Security.

  Great.

  That was the firm my father used.

  “I’m Mila, and I didn’t hire a bodyguard,” I said flatly, holding the ID badge out and hoping he’d take the hint and just leave.

  He rattled off the name of his employer instead, and I wanted to grab my hair and rip it out. “Yes, yes,” I said, cutting in with an impatient wave of my hand. “I’m familiar with the firm, but I don’t want you here.”

  He blinked, a thick fridge of lashes falling over his pale green eyes – very pretty eyes, I couldn’t help but notice.

  “Steadman was hired to provide–”

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “They weren’t hired by me. Go back to them and tell them I said thanks but no thanks.”

  “I’ve been sent here at the direction of my employer, Ms. Golding,” he said politely, as if I hadn’t said a single word. “My name’s Liam Finnegan, and I–”

  “Liam,” I said, nodding. I’d been needing a name. “Okay, listen, Liam. About your employer, you just go back to them and tell them I refused.”

  He cocked his head, studying me. “I can do that, but I’ll just lose my job, and they’ll send somebody else out here. Steadman Security has been hired–”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I lifted a hand to curtail his argument even as I tried to process what he’d said.

  He’d lose his job.

  They’d send somebody else.

  In other words, I had to get Dad to pull his watchdogs off.

  Blowing out a breath, I stepped aside. “I’ll let you come in. For now. I plan on getting this straightened out, then you can go back and have them assign you to guard somebody who actually wants and needs your service.”

  He said nothing as he came inside, his eyes scanning what he could see of my home before he turned back to me.

  “Aren’t you going to start checking my closets to see if there’s a boogeyman hiding in there?” I said sourly. My head was starting to hurt and since I still hadn’t had coffee, I wasn’t running late—I was late. And now I had an unwanted bodyguard who’d probably affix himself to my ass. I suspected the day – and my headache – would only get worse.

  “I don’t think that’s necessary, although I can do a walkthrough if you like.” He delivered the comment without blinking an eye.

  I glared at him. “I don’t like. I don’t want you here.”

  “As you’ve said.” He gave me a polite nod.

  Huffing out a sigh, I turned my back on him. “I need coffee.”

  I’d overslept, something I hated. I hadn’t had time for my normal, leisurely breakfast or the one – sometimes two – cups of coffee I drank while skimming the paper.

  I could smell the coffee from outside the kitchen. My automatic timer had worked better than my alarm clock this time around, and the coffee was already brewed and piping hot. I turned off the heating element as I reached for a cup.

  I was tempted to ignore my ‘bodyguard,’ but in the end, manners won out. Barely.

  “Do you want some coffee?” I asked, my voice stilted.

  “No, ma’am. Thank you.”

  I poured myself a cup and turned to face him, eying him over the rim of my cup as I took in his measure.

  “Mila,” I said after a few seconds.

  “Ma’am?” His brows rose slightly over his eyes.

  Once more, I found myself admiring the pretty pale green. Snap out of it, Mila, I told myself.

  “Call me Mila,” I said, emphasizing my name. “I don’t respond to ma’am, okay?”

  His only response was a faint incline of his head, but I couldn’t tell if that was an agreement or not.

  Sighing, I shook my head and focused on my coffee.

  I needed a lot of caffeine in me if I was going to get through today.

  9

  Liam

  So far, I wasn’t impressed with one Mila Golding.

  She was gorgeous, yes. She also knew it. She was used to saying jump and everybody around her wanted to know how high.

  I was more the kind to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground, and when she pursed her pretty red lips, then told me to trot on back to my boss, I held my position.

  From what I could tell, her one redeeming quality was the fact that she’d wavered when I told her I’d be fired if I went back to Steadman just on her say-so.

  At least she hadn’t fired back with some pithy comment like, That’s not my problem.

  Now, standing across from her and watching as she drank from a gleaming black coffee cup, I had to wonder what her next step was going to be. Somehow, I didn’t see her going from outright hostility to being A-OK with the idea of me watching her back.

  Finally, she finished the coffee, and she moved over to the phone that hung on a nearby wall.

  She punched in a number, jabbing at the keys like she was imagining jabbing into flesh with those neatly manicured, highly polished nails.

  She tapped a naked foot, nails painted the same color as her fingertips, as she pressed the phone to her ear.

  After almost thirty seconds, she ended the call, then dialed another phone number.

  After two more calls, she finally reached somebody, but judging from the sound of things, she wasn’t going to be talking to her father.

  “Son of a bitch is avoiding me,” she announced, dropping the phone back into the cradle. She skewered me with a look like all of this was my fault.

  Pointing at me, she said, “Okay, so maybe we’re stuck with each other until I can get a hold of my father. But once I convince him that this whole thing is pointless, then you’re gone.” She pointed toward the front door, her meaning clear.

  “Once my boss pulls me off, I’m out of here,” I replied. It was the closest thing to an agreement she’d get from me at that moment.

  She seemed to pick up on that, too, huffing out a sigh and turning on her heel. As she strode out of the kitchen, I followed, trying not to notice the intriguing sway of her hips as she stalked away.

  After she got a few more steps away, I fell into place behind her.

  She stopped in the doorway and turned to face me. “What are you doing?”

  “My job.” I was supposed to watch her and keep an eye on her until I was relieved by my evening companion at five.

  “I have to go finish getting ready. Do you plan to hover behind me in the bathroom while I put makeup on?” she dared me.

  “I’ll w
ait outside in the hallway.”

  She flapped a hand at me. “Can’t you wait down here? In this hallway?”

  My response was still a level look, and she huffed out another annoyed breath.

  I could tell she was going to be thrilled to have me around.

  And she wasn’t going to be shy about showing her displeasure, either.

  As she started up the stairs, my gaze strayed to her ass and lingered.

  Then I gave myself a swift mental kick.

  I wasn’t here because of her excellent ass. I was there because I was being paid and her dad thought she might be in danger.

  Once she reached the second level of the house, she veered right. She didn’t go very far, stopping outside what looked to be a large, well-lit bathroom.

  As she went to the mirror, I started to go over the information I’d been given about her.

  She was rich.

  She came from people with money.

  I had a dossier of information on her – two of them, actually. A print one which I had left in the briefcase I’d bought in the back of my car on my way over – I’d been provided a ride for the duration of the job. Then there was the e-portfolio that carried the same information.

  She was loaded.

  So was her father, Christopher Golding. He had reasons to believe she might be in trouble. There wasn’t any hard evidence pointing to the fact that she was, but her father had received several emails and phone calls. A few had made vague references to his daughter.

  Those references were why I was here.

  Feeling somebody’s eyes on me, I glanced up and found Mila watching me from the bathroom mirror.

  Her father might have reason to believe that Mila was in danger, but somehow, I didn’t think we had much chance of convincing her of that.

  Personally, I didn’t see why she was so bent out of shape about her father’s concern. He was just doing what fathers did. Taking care of his own.

  “Okay. I’m done.” She blew out a breath and turned, her eyes connecting briefly with mine. “How do we do this? Do you follow me to work or what?”

  “I’ve got a car,” I told her.

  She blinked, then slowly shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. We’ll either take the subway or a cab.”

  I wasn’t about to try to keep up with her on the subway, so I nodded. “A cab sounds good.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “Have you ridden in an NYC cab before?”

  I didn’t bother to respond. I had no intention of telling her that until last week, I’d never stepped foot inside New York City, much less needed a cab to take me anywhere.

  She took my silence as a positive answer, shaking her head and laughing. “Trust me, you’ll be pining for the subway in no time.”

  Seeing as how I’d managed to avoid riding it so far, I didn’t see how that was possible.

  But I shook off her concern.

  10

  Mila

  The entire ride was spent in taut silence.

  He took up his entire half of the car, sitting with his hands open and relaxed on his thighs, his eyes constantly moving.

  He seemed to try and take in everything.

  I had no idea what he expected to find.

  This whole idea was insane.

  Once I got a hold of my father…

  I narrowed my eyes as I thought about telling the cab driver to forget the previous address. I wanted him to take me to see my father.

  But that wasn’t an option. I had two clients due in today, and the first one would be in my office within the hour.

  We arrived with roughly a half hour for me to open up the office and lay down some ground rules. As Liam toured the small waiting area of the office, I moved to cut in front of him.

  “We need to get some things clear,” I told him.

  He stopped and angled his head, waiting.

  Liam clearly wasn’t a big talker, but he was listening, so that was something.

  “This is my office – my place of business. I have clients coming in shortly, and you will not be in the same room with me as my clients.”

  He looked like he wanted to argue, but after a few seconds, he just nodded. “I’ll wait outside the door.”

  “Fine.” It was the best I’d get from him, for now at least, and I knew it. “The people who come to see me do so knowing I’ve promised utter confidentiality. As far as you are concerned, you’re blind and deaf to everything that happens concerning my clients.”

  He blinked, thick lashes concealing those pretty green eyes for a moment. When he looked back at me, he had a faint smile on his lips. “Unless the client poses a threat to you, I don’t much care what he’s doing here or why.” I must not have looked very convinced, so he added, “I’ll be discreet. I’m not exactly here to chat up your clientele, anyway.”

  Heaving out a breath, I nodded then gestured to the waiting room where we currently stood. “This is where you can do your thing.” Pointing through the doorway, I added, “I work in there. Don’t interrupt.”

  He looked like he wanted to say something, and I paused, giving him a chance.

  But all he did was nod.

  “And as soon as I can get a hold of my father, you’re out of here,” I added, feeling like I needed to have some control over the situation.

  He just aimed that faint half-smile at me and said nothing.

  “You know, you’re allowed to speak on this job,” I said, trying to get some sort of reaction out of him.

  “I’ll speak when needed,” he responded, his tone level, like I hadn’t been needling him and being bitchy about it too.

  I knew I was being bitchy. I couldn’t help it – I was so pissed off at this stunt my father had pulled, I couldn’t see straight.

  But that didn’t mean I had to take it out on this guy.

  I opened my mouth, almost about to apologize, but he glanced down. I heard the faint vibration only a second before he pulled a phone from his pocket. With another one of those half smiles and a polite nod, he stepped over to the far side of the room to take the call.

  “I’ll just make myself scarce,” I muttered, shaking my head and turning on my heel. I needed more coffee. And maybe some chocolate.

  I ended up eating a candy bar for breakfast. I found it in my desk, needed the chocolate and decided to do the adult thing – eat the damn thing.

  Washing the sweet, gooey mess down with yet another cup of coffee ended up leaving me with a faintly upset stomach though. I could use something to balance out the caffeine and sugar, but a quick look at the time told me I didn’t have the luxury to run to the Starbucks that took up the corner space of the building where my office was located.

  My client was due here in ten minutes.

  And I was so not in the right frame of mind to handle her.

  Rachel Poole was one of my more established clients. She had been coming to see me for almost a year, and I had a feeling we’d keep up our relationship for some time.

  Rachel suffered from an addiction to sex, one that had caused her quite some trouble in her life. She was twenty-four and had already been treated for a sexually transmitted infection, plus she went through boyfriends like she was changing shoes.

  She’d come to see me after her then-boyfriend caught her in bed…with his sister.

  She came in, a glowing smile on her face as she took her seat. “Who is the hot guy at the door, doc? I’ve never seen so much as another soul in here, and now you’ve got a cutie-pie stationed outside.”

  Stationed seemed to be the right word.

  “He’s nobody you need to be concerned about, Rachel. Rest assured, your privacy is still one of my number one concerns.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. “I doubt you’ve got him there taking pictures of all your nutso clients so you can use them for some nefarious purpose.” She giggled as she stretched out long, curvy legs. “I just love it when I can casually work in a word like nefarious into a conversation.”

  Rac
hel loved to talk, and I’d long since set up a pattern where she got to use the first few minutes of the session to blurt out whatever was on her mind. If we didn’t do it now, it would happen later on in the session, so I might as well have some control over it.

  “Did you see his eyes? So pretty!” she said, pressing a hand to her chest, clearly still caught up with my bodyguard. “I bet he has dimples. He looks like the kind to have dimples when he smiles. Don’t you think?”

  I hadn’t thought about him much one way or the other – except to notice his eyes. Now I suspected I’d be looking for dimples because I had a weakness for them in guys. But I didn’t respond to Rachel’s comment directly. “Why don’t we get started?”

  She hadn’t had her full five minutes to ramble, but if she was going to spend them talking about Liam, I didn’t want to listen to it. He was taking up too much of my thoughts, anyway.

  “So, how have you been since we talked last?”

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just say what you mean? Have I dragged anybody into a closet for a quickie…no.” She went on to list several other things she hadn’t done, and I gave her a few moments.

  Finally, though, I cut in politely. With Rachel, I had to do that – often – or I’d never get a word said. “Actually, what I meant was how have you been? Seriously. You mentioned a cute guy who’d moved into your building. Have you thought about asking him out?”

  She made a face. “I’ve thought about doing him, but…” Some of the light faded from her eyes, and she looked away. “I keep failing at the relationship thing, doc. I always screw it up.”

  “That was before you decided to try and get help,” I reminded her.

  “Sure, but have I changed?” She got up and paced over to look outside. “I mean, I still find myself thinking about getting laid when I’m supposed to be focused on the job. And it happens all the time.”

  The frustration in her voice called to me. “But you’re doing better.”

  “Am I?” She gave me a sad look. “I can’t even have a regular conversation with people without thinking how they are in the sack. I can’t go out to a club and relax and have a good time because I know what will end up happening.”