My Bodyguard. Dana Marton

she could mess up everything. It would be better to go alone and be able to focus.

      “Let’s keep in mind that David is an attorney and has no training for a situation like this,” Brant Law said over the speaker. “Cavanaugh is the only link to Tsernyakov that we’ve been able to turn up. There is no margin for error.”

      He was patched in via phone, along with Nick Tarasov. Now that they were getting close to their target, the men had stepped back and were careful not to show themselves in the company of the four women. No sense arousing any suspicions and risk blowing their cover.

      “David’s not the rough-and-tough type,” Nick said. “No offense.”

      “None taken. I’m smooth. That’s what I do.” David smiled, clearly at ease with who he was and wasn’t, a trait Sam envied.

      “Since Cavanaugh thinks David is your boyfriend, you two better be convincing.” Gina gave Sam an amused glance.

      Hey, it could happen. In an alternate universe. Sam flashed back a defensive look, knowing David was miles out of her league.

      Though Cavanaugh wasn’t supposed to meet David at all, they had run into him the day before and introductions had been unavoidable. So they’d been nervous, acting frazzled, and the man had thought they’d been coming from a lunchtime tryst, assuming they were romantically linked. And they hadn’t corrected him, because they had no better explanation handy.

      Dark hair, sharp gray eyes, great smile—David had style, big-time, and he carried himself like a movie star, plenty of sex appeal rounding out the picture. He wore a dark suit despite the heat, some light wonder of silk. A man like him wouldn’t have given her the time of day under normal circumstances. Not that it mattered much. David was off-limits anyway. He had some supermodel wife and not the brainless kind, either, one of the better-known ones, co-owner of some posh NYC restaurant—a depressing piece of information she’d overheard from Brant Law.

      You shouldn’t ever feel inferior, not to anyone. Sam drew herself tall. Anita had told her that. Maybe someday she would start to believe it.

      Sick as it sounded, David’s inaccessibility was probably part of her attraction. She could safely have a crush on the man without having to fear that it would ever come to anything. She didn’t, at heart, want a relationship—wasn’t ready, wasn’t sure she ever would be. But it was a nice fantasy to think that she was capable.

      “I think Cavanaugh likes you. I’ve seen him staring at you before. And he always asks about you when I call,” Anita said.

      “Yeah, right.” Sam rolled her eyes as she shrugged off the suggestion.

      “So we may assume that Cavanaugh invited Sam because he has a special interest in her?” David looked at Sam more carefully.

      Her heart fluttered.

      “He sure didn’t invite the rest of us,” Gina bit back.

      “Because you weren’t there.” Sam gave her the duh look. David had been bringing legal papers to the island for Anita to sign, since her name had been cleared. He ran into Sam in the lobby and they came up together, bumped into Cavanaugh, who was coming from a meeting with Anita. The suave Frenchman was one of Tsernyakov’s right-hand men, their biggest break in the case so far. They chatted for a few minutes, and the next thing she knew, they were both invited to the man’s beach party.

      “I still cannot comprehend why I was asked to participate along with Samantha.” David glanced around.

      “Sam,” she corrected. She hated Samantha. Buck had called her that. She didn’t want to think about Buck, now or as long as she lived.

      David Moretti made that easy. She couldn’t think whatsoever when he was around.

      “Maybe he wants to check out the competition,” Gina supplied the answer to his question. “Maybe he thought Sam wouldn’t go without you.”

      “He definitely thinks we’re together. He called him my David when he invited him.” Sam felt her face flush. Gina was probably right. Her proximity to David had made her nervous. And they had been surprised by Cavanaugh, who wasn’t supposed to be in the office that day. He’d been in the neighborhood and dropped in to iron out some details on a deal with Anita.

      “Anyway,” Gina said, “I think the two of you going together is a good idea. It’ll hold Cavanaugh back a little. If he was all over Sam, she couldn’t get any substantial recon done.”

      “I’ve never discharged a weapon in my life.” David brought up his hands in a defensive gesture. “What would I be required to do?”

      “You’re not going there for a shoot-out.” Gina clicked her tongue with impatience. “But just in case anything goes wrong, you can learn. They all did.” She gestured toward Anita, Carly and Sam.

      “By the day after tomorrow?” Nick asked over the phone.

      “The answer is no,” Brant emphasized. “Someone who is not ready for this would only become a liability. The invitation is a huge step forward. Let’s not mess it up. It would have taken us weeks to set up some kind of covert entry, figuring out security, working blind. Sam will be allowed in and shown around, and given free rein of the grounds.”

      “No pressure.” Sam tried to joke off the weight she was starting to feel.

      “I want to go in,” Nick suggested, not for the first time.

      “You can’t.” Brant shot him down again. “Neither of us can show. We have ties to law enforcement that go back too far. If he does any kind of check at all, we’ll pop up and the mission is over before we get within sniffing distance of Tsernyakov.”

      There was a moment of silence then Brant spoke again. “Okay, David. How about your brother?”

      Sam looked at him. He had a brother?

      “I find it highly improbable that Reese would consent to participate.” He shook his head.

      “I’ll just say David couldn’t make it and go alone.” Sam came to his defense. “A switch wouldn’t work, anyway, unless they’re twins. Cavanaugh had a pretty good look at him.”

      David flashed her one of his mind-melting smiles as he nodded. “No worries there.”

      Her eyes went wide. David Moretti had a twin. Two of him. Like one wasn’t overwhelming enough.

      “So this brother of yours, he’s the rough-and- tough type?” Gina asked. “If he’s going with Sam, he’d better be able to provide protection.”

      “He is a professional bodyguard,” Brant cut in. “He’s somewhat of a wild card from what I understand.”

      David didn’t respond. His eyes were becoming somber, although the ever-present smile never faltered on his face.

      “Sounds like a good alternative,” Anita said with caution. “I think it would be smart for Sam not to go alone.”

      She didn’t mean it disparagingly, as if Sam wasn’t capable. Anita was simply the mothering type. She couldn’t help being concerned about others’ safety. It no longer bothered Sam. God knew, she had a serious deficiency when it came to being mothered. Still, she didn’t want to look as if she were scared of the mission, especially not in front of the others. She wasn’t ready to let them see any of the chinks in her armor. You showed weakness and the world steamrolled right on over you. It was a lesson she had learned well on the street.

      “It’s a beach party. I’ll get a tan, check out the house, draw some blueprints, eavesdrop if I can. What can go wrong?” She shrugged as if her scalp weren’t tingling from nerves. “I can do it.” She didn’t feel nearly as sure as she sounded, but what was the alternative? Have the others figure out what a screwup she was, kick her off the team and send her back to the can?

      “You can if you need to,” Brant said, apparently buying her bravado. “But it looks like we are getting a chance