Fast Burn. Lori Foster

time when you were free, and since you’re free right now—”

      “Yes, of course. Show him in.” Even as she said it, a tiny unfamiliar thrill ran through her.

      She’d made a point of surrounding herself with some of the finest male specimens on the planet—professional fighters that she’d turned into prime bodyguards, each of them in high demand. It was her vision for Body Armor, to get rid of the stuffy Men in Black clones and offer instead real men, with real muscles, certifiable machismo and lethal ability with or without a weapon.

      No, she didn’t fire the previously established bodyguards; that would have been disloyal to her brother, who’d hired them. She simply reassigned them to the more boring cases, and overall they were happy with that.

      Anything to do with a celebrity, a dignitary or a politician her elite team now covered.

      She desperately wanted to add Brand to that team.

      Thinking she’d have a minute, she was just circling out from behind her desk when Brand stepped in around Enoch. Instead of waiting in the guest area, as a client would do, he must have been hovering right outside her door.

      Her toes curled in her high heels.

      Enoch was on the small side, five-two, slight of build, with average brown hair and eyes. It was his keen intelligence and attention to detail that made him so perfect at his job.

      But his size didn’t really matter when he stood next to a man who made most everyone seem small, her included. Brand was a big and badass professional MMA fighter with a solid steel frame of muscle all wrapped up in a cocky attitude.

      Faded jeans molded to his thick thighs, going well with his running shoes and an ancient Aerosmith T-shirt that stretched over his chest and broad shoulders. Reflective sunglasses pushed to the top of his head made his golden-brown hair messy. Darker brown eyes held her captive as he murmured, “Sahara.”

      Leaning a hip against her desk, she drank in the rugged, virile sight of him. “Be still my heart.”

      Wary exasperation rooted him to the spot.

      Yes, she always spoke her mind. Why not? She was the boss and her employees knew her interest in them wasn’t personal. Of course, Brand wasn’t yet an employee.

      Putting her hands together, her fingers extended to frame him in a square, she remarked, “A photo of you looking just like that could launch my new line of advertisement.”

      He crossed his arms. “Advertisement for what?”

      “Bodyguards with ability and sex appeal.” He’d look great on a billboard, maybe with a gun in his hand. She could already see it. Maybe she should ask Enoch to keep a camera at his desk for occasions like this?

      When Brand just stood there, his expression amused, she smiled. “Tell me you’ve come to give me good news.” She’d been after him for a few months now to join the agency, constantly throwing out bait, trying to reel him in. He’d nibbled, but he wasn’t caught. Not yet.

      “I came to talk about that, yes.”

      Elation conflicted with disappointment. There were times when she hoped they could take a different path from employer and employee, one more personal, intimate.

      Even...sexually satisfying.

      But in the end, the business came first. Always.

      She hadn’t given up hope for her brother, and when he finally returned, he deserved to find the company thriving.

      She’d put her heart and soul into making that happen. There was no time for anything else.

      “Perfect.” She tried to be excited, but it wasn’t easy.

      “Actually,” Brand said, coming to stand very near her, “I’ve been offered another fight.”

      That gave her pause. She’d thought he was done with the Supreme Battle Challenge, better known as the SBC, for very difficult, personal reasons that he’d shared with her, but not many other people. “I thought you needed to be around more for your mom.”

      “My mother,” he corrected, “not my mom.”

      For Brand, there was a huge difference between the two. Sahara knew because he’d explained it to her. “Right, sorry.” Still, the woman had suffered cardiac arrest and, due to complications, had almost died. Personal conflicts aside, Brand had overseen her care. “But don’t you need to—”

      “I decided an influx of cash would be better.”

      So he could pay for what was needed, instead of getting so closely involved? That, too, made sense given their backgrounds. “I see.”

      “The SBC would reward me for taking the fight with a nice bonus.”

      “Oh?” If that’s all it took, she could offer some signing bonuses of her own. “So how long do I have to wait for you to finish up—”

      “It would be my last fight, but,” he said with gentle emphasis, before she could make assumptions, “I’m not agreeing to be a bodyguard.”

      Her stomach bottomed out. This felt too much like losing, and by God, she did not lose. Determination stiffened her spine. “Tell me what it is you need.” More money, obviously. She could swing that. “Designated time off? Better benefits for dependents?” Working around that would be trickier, but she’d figure it out.

      Brand shook his head. “Truth is, Sahara, I can’t see myself working for you.”

      Wow. Now that hurt. Peeved, she moved away from him to sit in the chair behind her desk. A power position.

      She met his gaze without flinching. “I see.” No, she didn’t.

      “You’re too pushy.” He smiled as he said it, taking away some of the sting of that nasty observation. “And too used to getting your way. You love being in charge, but then, so do I.”

      Never in her life had she been so offended. “Those insults are your way of telling me you don’t like me?” She rose from the chair again without realizing it, hands flat on the surface of the desk as she leaned toward him in challenge. “I got a very different impression.”

      “I like you,” he confirmed, but then added, “because you’re not my boss.” He surprised her by mimicking her position until their noses almost touched over the middle of her desk.

      She didn’t know where to look. His eyes drew her, so dark they were almost black, and always filled with wickedness.

      Then there was his firm mouth set in that small, teasing smile that did crazy things to her. High cheekbones, a strong jaw, a masculine nose...

      And oh, what that straight-armed pose did for his biceps.

      She inhaled...and breathed in the scent of warm, musky male.

      It seemed imperative to put some space between them so she slowly straightened.

      Brand’s smile widened and he, too, straightened. “Coward.”

      “Oh no,” she corrected. “But I have priorities that take precedence over...other things.”

      He went back to crossing his arms. “Over me, you mean.”

      “Nonsense. You are a top priority right now. I want you on the team.”

      “The agency isn’t a team, Sahara. It’s you dictating and others following orders.”

      She said through her teeth, “I’m the coach. I direct, encourage and—” Bossed. “—cheer. Rah-rah and all that.”

      He laughed.

      Not with her, no. He laughed at her.

      “Where did you work before you took over here?”

      Was he genuinely interested or just trying to move past her obvious irritation? Not that