Sex, Lies and Designer Shoes. Kimberly Meter Van

when CoCo stumbled in, bleary-eyed and looking like something the cat dragged in, and he couldn’t stop the smirk that followed.

      “What are you smiling about?” she asked sourly, going to that fancy machine and popping in a pod on autopilot, because he was certain she could barely see two steps in front of her. “Why are you still here?”

      “I told you why I’m here,” he answered, more amused than he should be to see her hungover. He saw an opportunity to get some coffee and acted on it. “How about a truce?” he suggested and she stopped to stare at him.

      “What are you talking about?”

      “Well, we got off on the wrong foot. I’m here to protect you for a handful of days and since there’s not much we can do about it, we might as well try to get along. I’ll tell you what...you fix me up one of those fancy cups of coffee from your pod machine and I’ll forget about what an ungrateful jerk you were to me last night after I saved your bacon. Sound like a deal?” He tacked on a smile for good measure. Time to make lemonade out of lemons. He was good at that.

      Except CoCo didn’t seem to appreciate his peace offering. She grabbed her coffee and squared her shoulders, the scent of freshly brewed goodness teasing him in the worst way, as she said, “I’m pretty sure they sell coffee at the gas station down the street.” Then, blowing on her no doubt delicious coffee, she left him standing there.

      Without any coffee.

      Well. Hell.

      * * *

      WHAT WAS HE still doing here? She sipped at her coffee, waiting for the caffeine jolt so her brain could function. She’d thought for sure he would’ve bailed last night after she’d given him the brush-off. He was like a cursed penny that kept showing up in her purse.

      Grabbing her cell, she quickly dialed her father. Time to get to the bottom of this situation. She couldn’t have Captain Buzzkill shadowing her every move.

      “Babbo,” she greeted her father warmly in Italian, “how are you this morning?”

      “Malissimo, child,” Enzo responded with a heavy sigh that pinched at her earlier pique. “Have you met the man I’ve hired to watch over you?”

      “Ah, yes, actually, I have,” she answered, biting her lip, wondering how to break the news that she wanted him to fire Rian. “About that... I don’t think he’s a good fit for me. I think I’ll be fine without a babysitter, Babbo. I’m a big girl now. Besides, I doubt we have anything to truly worry about. Perhaps you’re just being a little too cautious?”

      “Contessa, I will not argue the point with you,” Enzo said sternly. Her father only used her given name when he was either fed up or very angry. She may have her father wrapped around her finger but she still shivered when he used that particular tone of voice with her. “Rian Dalton is the best and I trust you in his care. You will do as he says. I have the FBI here with me, working on who is behind this terrorism, but I don’t want to worry about you. Am I clear?”

      Damn. That didn’t go as she’d planned. “But, Babbo...he’s such a...” She wrestled with the right word. Jerk came to mind but it wasn’t just that. He was...unaffected by her in any way. And she found that to be a flaw she couldn’t abide. “I’m sure there are plenty of other qualified professionals out there that we can swap him out for. How about I look around and take that load off your shoulders? I would be willing to do that for you.”

      “Contessa! You will do no such thing. You will abide by my decision. End of discussion.”

      Should she try again? Under most circumstances she could twist her father into a pretzel to get what she wanted but she sensed this was not one of those times. She’d never heard him so gruff with her. Maybe he was really worried. “Okay, Babbo, I’ll stick with Rian,” she said glumly. “But I think this is ridiculous. You’re going to realize you’re overreacting and then I’ll get the satisfaction of saying that I was right.”

      “Perhaps. But until then...you stick with the man I hired and don’t give him any of your attitude.”

      “I’ll do my best,” she replied, though she couldn’t promise. There was something about Rian that rubbed her wrong. Maybe it was the smug smile or the way he didn’t bat an eyelash at her looks or her body. She was an expert at wielding sex appeal and most men didn’t stand a chance when she put her mind to it but Rian seemed to look right through her. It made her grumpy.

      “Grazie, dolcezza,” Enzo said with a sigh as he clicked off, and she genuinely wished her father wasn’t so burdened by what was happening. She adored her Babbo—Italian for daddy—even if she was, admittedly, spoiled rotten as some might say. She tossed her phone onto the bed and reluctantly returned to the kitchen, where Rian was trying to figure out the Keurig coffeemaker. She didn’t want to be nice but a handful of days would pass at a snail’s pace if they were constantly sniping at each other, so she pushed him aside and fixed him a cup of coffee, thrusting it at him with a glower when it was finished.

      “Ah, thank God,” Rian said, taking a grateful sip. “That iced tea wasn’t going to work. I was ten seconds away from stuffing you in the car and driving to that gas station to get a cup.”

      “I guess I should be thankful for small favors,” she quipped sourly, watching him enjoy his coffee with a critical eye. He was good-looking. In a smug sort of way. “So, apparently my father believes there is a credible threat and that you are the best person for the job in order to keep me safe. Personally, I think this will all blow over and all that will be at risk is my social life. But my father is really stressed and I don’t think he’s going to change his mind until he gets the all-clear from the FBI, so I guess we’re stuck together for the next few days.”

      “Glad to hear you’re coming around,” he said from above the rim of his coffee cup. “And for what it’s worth...your father is concerned because the threats are becoming more personal. You’re his only child. It’s only natural for him to want to protect you.”

      “Of course,” she said stiffly. “I’m just saying, this is all pretty over the top. People pop off their mouths all the time. It doesn’t mean they actually plan to follow through.”

      “True. But then, sometimes they do. That’s not exactly something you want to take a chance with, you know?”

      She nodded, grudgingly ceding the point. “So what now? I’m already bored out of my brain.”

      “Not my job to entertain you, sweetheart...just to protect you.”

      “Wrong. If you want to keep me out of harm’s way, you’d better find a way to keep me busy. Otherwise, I’ll have to find my own fun, and who knows what that might entail.”

      “Do you have a death wish or something? This shit is real. Not some game.”

      She shrugged. “Says you. I think it’s all a waste of time. A waste of my time. I’m only indulging my father because he’s a sweet old man and I adore him.”

      “Your social calendar will recover,” Rian said drily, finishing his coffee and rinsing the cup off to leave in the sink. “But I have more bad news—we’re not staying here.”

      “And just where exactly are we supposed to go?” she queried, her irritation ramping up. “I’m not about to hole up in some hovel if that’s what you’re thinking.”

      He laughed. “Don’t worry about it, princess. It’ll be safe—that’s all that matters.” He shoved away from the counter and waved her out of the kitchen with a curt command of “Go pack,” and she cast a dirty glare his way before returning to her room.

      Just where the hell did he plan to take her?

      Good God, she hoped it was someplace five-star. She just wasn’t in the mood to rough it.

4

      HE