Close Contact. Lori Foster

here to hire you.”

      Hire him? He turned back to Maxi and got her timid nod. Skeptical, he clarified, “As a bodyguard?”

      “Yes.”

      Since when did a woman need to be protected from a hangover? Did he want to be involved with that?

      Now that he worked at the Body Armor agency, did he have a choice?

      Sahara ruled with a small iron fist and she, at least, seemed taken with Maxi’s far-fetched tale. If Sahara took the contract, he might not have much say in it.

      And who was he kidding? Much as he’d like to deny it, territorial tendencies had sparked back to life the second he saw Maxi again. In his gut, he knew he was happy—even relieved—to again have her within reach.

      Maybe because she was the one who got away, or the one who hadn’t been all that hung up on him in the first place.

      His ego was still stung, that was all.

      It didn’t help that her disinterest had piled on at a low point in his life, making her rejection seem more important.

      She’d come on to him hot and heavy, they’d gotten together three separate times, had phenomenal sex that, at least to him, had felt more than physical, and then she’d booked. She’d guarded her privacy more than her body, and other than her name and occupation, he hadn’t known much about her, not where she worked, or lived, or anything about her family...

      As to that, maybe getting smashed and passing out in her yard were regular things for her. If so, he’d count himself lucky that she’d cut ties when she had.

      Yet, somehow, that didn’t fit with his impressions of her.

      First things first. He had to get a handle on what had actually happened. “Where is this farmhouse?”

      “In Burlwood.”

      “Never heard of it.”

      “Few people have. It’s a really small town forty-five minutes south of here, close to the Kentucky border.”

      With that answered, he went on to other details. “So you woke up outside?”

      “Yes.”

      “In your front yard?”

      She shook her head. “A good distance away, on the far side of the pond.”

      “Like a little decorative pond?”

      “It’s two acres.”

      Wow. Okay, so not close to the house, then. “How long were you out there?”

      Her brows pinched together and her hands tightened. “I honestly don’t know. The last thing I remember is opening a book to read.” She drew in a deep, shaky breath. “That’s it. Just reading. Then I woke up with a splitting headache, some bug bites and gravel digging into my spine.”

      “What were you doing before opening the book?”

      Staring down at her hands, she gave it some thought. “I remember cleaning the kitchen.”

      “Before that?”

      She shook her head. “It was an all-day job.”

      Who spent all day cleaning one room? He didn’t know Maxi’s habits, but maybe she’d never done any cleaning if tidying up dinner felt like a big chore to her. Hell, all he really knew about her was that she made him laugh, he enjoyed talking to her and she burned him up in bed.

      Yeah, not a good time for that particular memory.

      “Did you have company?”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “You don’t remember?”

      “I can’t remember much of anything.”

      “Then how do you know—”

      “No one comes out to the farmhouse,” she snapped. “But I already told you, if someone did, I do not remember it.” Temper brought her forward in her seat. “I can’t remember anything. Especially not how I ended up sleeping on the ground in the middle of the night!”

      Okay, so he had to admit, all in all that sounded like more than alcohol. Hell, had someone actually drugged her? If so, how and when? Most likely on a date.

      Or had she trolled another bar?

      Narrowing his eyes, Miles said, “I know you haven’t been to Rowdy’s lately.” Where they’d met. It was a nice place, small and with enough regulars that spiking a drink wouldn’t go unnoticed. That brought up another idea. “Switched to a less reputable bar?”

      Still breathing hard from her rant, she settled back, and after visibly collecting herself, she shook her head. “No.”

      That clipped voice didn’t deter him from his questions. “Any boyfriends been around?”

      She gave another sharp shake of her head. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

      “No one?”

      Glaring, she repeated, “No one.”

      “Did you piss off your newest bed partner, then?”

      “Miles,” Sahara chided mildly.

      “It’s a legitimate question.”

      Maxi scowled at him. “No bed partner.”

      “You’re telling me that in the two months since I’ve seen you—”

      “There’s been no one.” Belligerent now, she muttered, “Not since you, and you were a long shot. Sort of a last hurrah.”

      She kept saying the craziest things. “I have no idea what that’s supposed to mean.”

      Sahara interrupted with “Look at yourself, Miles. With all her new obligations, she obviously didn’t mean to get involved, but then, I’m sure she didn’t expect to meet you.”

      “Exactly,” Maxi stated, as if vindicated.

      His temples started to throb. “Exactly what?”

      Helpfully, Sahara explained, “Oh, sweetie, you were supposed to be a one-night stand. Not a repeat performance.”

      Maxi nodded. “But what woman could resist coming back?”

      Raising her hand, Sahara said, “I could, but then, I’m used to being surrounded by—” she flapped her hand at Miles as she searched for the words “—by temptation. Body Armor is the place to go for sexier protection, you know.” Then sotto voce, she added to Maxi, “I’m trying to cement that brand for the agency. So far, I’m meeting resistance.”

      Sahara’s typical blunt approach might have insulted someone else; after all, she now knew something very personal and private about him. He couldn’t blame Maxi for sharing, not when Sahara had a way of getting the details out of people. Plus, Maxi was obviously out of sorts, therefore easily susceptible to Sahara’s not-so-subtle digging. At the moment, though, offense was the last thing he felt. Everyone at the agency was used to Sahara’s informal and often intrusive manner. It went hand in hand with a lot of caring, making her a most unusual but likable boss.

      After rolling his eyes at Sahara, Miles turned to Maxi. He wanted to believe everything she said, he really did. He’d even admit that she looked sincere.

      Problem was, he knew her sex drive matched his own, and he sure as hell hadn’t been celibate.

      Maybe this time she’d hooked up with the wrong man. Had she played around and then tried to call it quits, but unlike Miles, the new guy knew where to find her and, in a sick way, had insisted?

      He hated that thought. His natural instinct was to protect women, never to abuse them. His reaction to Maxi had honed that instinct to a razor’s edge.

      Still,