The Mogul and the Muscle (Bluewater Billionaires)

by Claire Kingsley

This was definitely the last one. I was supposed to be retired, for fuck’s sake. I’d never set out to do this kind of work. But I had a certain set of skills—very Liam Neeson of me, but it was true—and it seemed like every time I finished one job, another one would pop up.

Son of a bitch. I’d just scared the shit out of her with my rundown on how to handle an armed-robbery-turned-hostage situation.

“You don’t even like golf.” “I’m getting better.” He rolled his eyes and threw a left hook. “That’s not what I said, and no you’re not.” I glowered at him from behind my gloves. He was right, I sucked at golf. And it was boring. But I was going to learn to like it, because golf was ordinary and I needed a fucking hobby.

But something was wrong, and it was driving me absolutely crazy. The thought of leaving her here alone made my stomach twist into a knot. I wasn’t sensing danger in her office, or even in this building. I sensed it in her. She was in danger.

I tapped my fingernails on the desk. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Emily had hired me a bodyguard. That woman was stubborn. But even if I’d been expecting a bodyguard to walk in my office this morning, nothing could have prepared me for Jude Ellis.

“Was he freaking everyone out?” “You’d think, considering he looks like a pro wrestler crossed with an action hero. But he was very unobtrusive. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he made himself smaller so people wouldn’t notice him wandering around.” That was odd. And kind of fascinating. I didn’t want to be intrigued by this man, but I couldn’t help it.

“Get out, Bobby.” “But first—” I lifted my eyes. “Get. Out.” The corner of Bobby’s mouth lifted in a smirk. He sucked in a breath, like he was about to say something, when a low voice came from behind him. “You heard her.”

His square jaw with its careless bit of stubble was stupidly distracting. He was so hard and angular. Almost military. But there was a sophistication inherent in the way he moved that was a surprising contrast to his size. He wore a cuffed-sleeve button-down like a high-powered CEO but looked like he could lift the back end of a car without breaking a sweat. I had a feeling people often underestimated him. I knew what that was like.

“Fine. You can come home with me. But don’t expect me to put out unless you buy me dinner first.” His jaw hitched, an almost imperceptible tic. Nothing about his expression changed, and I wondered if I’d imagined it. But the thought that I’d just ruffled this solid wall of man was oddly amusing. I kind of wanted to see if I could do it again.

“Although if this was all an elaborate ploy to get in my pants, I’d have to give you points for creativity.” “If this was an elaborate ploy to get in your pants, I’d already be in them.” “You’re very confident in your abilities.” “When it’s warranted.”

And when we’d come down the stairs to find Nicholas banging his wife in my kitchen, for a split second, fear had exploded in my belly. One thought had invaded my mind—someone was in my house. The next second had brought another thought, just as fast and explosive as the first. Jude was behind me. And all that fear had dissipated. The entire experience had taken less than a heartbeat. But it had been so acute, I couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. I’d been terrified, and Jude’s presence had made me feel safe.

“Wait, Cameron’s being targeted?” Brandy asked. “No,” I said at the same time Jude said, “Possibly.” We locked eyes but he gave me an almost imperceptible nod. “There’s a small chance the attempted-mugging wasn’t random,” I said. “But I’m positive there’s no reason to worry.” “She’s right, there’s no reason to worry,” Jude said. “She has me now.”

He arrived at my house precisely fifty-five minutes after our last text. On a vintage Indian motorcycle. Damn him. I loved motorcycles. I loved men on motorcycles. I had a not-so-secret obsession with a TV series about a motorcycle gang and their very sexy and compellingly complicated leader. I read deliciously unrealistic motorcycle club romances.

First my cook banging his wife in my kitchen, now my gardener interrogating Jude like he was my first date. At least Jude was getting a crash course in the weirdos in my life.

Confident. Gorgeous. Mine. She wasn’t, nor was she ever going to be. But the thought had hit me hard enough to knock the air out of my lungs. I’d recovered well. I was sure she hadn’t noticed. But it had been difficult to keep my cool.

“I wish I knew what was happening. I’m glad I trusted my instinct to offer her an office in Seattle. She’s perfect for this job. I really want her.” “Looks like Shepherd Calloway does too.” She took a deep breath. “Exactly. Well, maybe she’ll have her happy ending. A new job and the man she loves.” The hint of longing in Cameron’s voice surprised me. No sarcasm. No snarky remark. That little glimpse of vulnerability did something weird to my insides.

“Interesting. What does your partner do now? Is he semi-retired too?” My back stiffened and I stared straight ahead. I didn’t want to talk about him. “No.” The elevator dinged and the doors opened. “Sorry,” she said softly, then walked toward her office. I let out a breath, feeling shitty. Some things in my past were classified. I literally couldn’t talk about them. Those secrets weren’t hard to keep. It was the ones I could talk about, but chose not to, that seemed to weigh the heaviest. But that was simply something I had to bear.

I’d also enjoyed showing off our research facilities to Jude. Instead of hanging back like a disinterested layman, he’d struck up a lengthy conversation with one of the lead engineers on the project. From the snippets I’d caught, Jude was more educated in aeronautics than I’d realized. I also got the impression that he might know how to fly a plane. And maybe a helicopter. I glanced at him through my open door, seated at the desk Brandy had set up for him. It made me wonder what else I didn’t know about him. Probably a lot. But I wasn’t going to ask. He’d made it clear he didn’t want me to, which left me feeling oddly lonely, and I couldn’t understand why.

What was I going to say when that happened? Thanks, it was nice to have met you, good luck with retirement? Wait, I was wrong, I’m terrified for my life and I need you to stay? Come home with me and lick key lime tart off my stomach? This was a problem.

He gave Alicia a high five—low enough for her to reach—then glanced at me and shrugged, his expression a little sheepish. It was right about then that my ovaries exploded.

She reached into a bag of popcorn and put a few kernels in her mouth. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I’m just here for the dick show.” “Daisy?” Cameron asked. “Why do you have popcorn?” Daisy shrugged. “I made some before I came over. I had no idea how appropriate and mildly amusing it would be.”

“Not at all.” I doubted anything would sound dull in that accent of his. But I felt a tickle of discomfort in my belly. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be having a conversation that was even mildly flirtatious with another man. Another man? What did that even mean? For there to be another man, there had to be a man, and I didn’t have a man in my life. Jude was watching me like a hawk because it was his job. Not because there was something between us.

“That is truly fascinating,” he said, but he was barely making eye contact. He kept watching behind me, like something else was attracting his attention. I knew exactly what it was. Or who it was. Jude. I glanced over my shoulder. Jude was doing his best brick wall impression—if a brick wall could look menacing. His eyes were locked on Nigel, his square jaw tight. He was ten feet away and completely unmoving, yet it looked like he could pounce on Nigel in an instant. Yep, I’d been right. World’s biggest cock blocker.

You didn’t have to scare him off.” A tiny twitch of his eyebrows betrayed a hint of smugness. “If me standing ten feet behind you scared him, I did you a favor.” “Why? Because he’d lose to you in a who’s the bigger caveman contest?” “Yes.” God, he was infuriating. Even more infuriating was that little voice in my head that said he was right.

“Money doesn’t make him man enough for you.”

Unable to help myself, I stood and leaned in, cupping her cheek with my hand. I pressed my lips to her forehead. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I asked softly. “Yeah,” she whispered. With my hand still resting against soft skin of her cheek, I kissed her temple. “Call me if you need anything.”

If I’d thought she wanted me to, my self-control would have failed. But I wasn’t even sure whether Cameron liked me very much, let alone shared any of my desires. I knew she was grateful that I’d saved her from that hit and run. But gratitude didn’t mean she wanted me the way I wanted her. And fuck, I wanted her. Without another word, I left, hoping I was doing the right thing.

“You think of everything, don’t you?” “Just doing my job,” she said with a smile, then turned on her heel and left. Of course she was just doing her job. Most of the people in my life were around because they worked for me. They had a job to do, and they did it.

I was also pretty sure I shouldn’t have kissed her after the hit and run. It hadn’t been a real kiss. I hadn’t gone anywhere near her mouth. But I felt like I’d crossed a line with her and now she was making it abundantly clear where we stood. Keeping me at a distance so I wouldn’t get too close—wouldn’t get too familiar. It fucking sucked.

She ran outside in a short white shirt and silky striped pajama pants. Dropping my helmet to the ground, I swung my leg over the seat of my bike and caught her right as she crashed into me. Her arms flew around my neck, her bare toes barely staying on the ground. I wrapped my arms around her, one hand splayed across her back, the other holding the back of her head. Relief poured through me as her body pressed against me. Thank god she was okay.

She hesitated for a few seconds. “Can I go home with you tonight?” Putting my arm around her, I drew her in close. I didn’t care if it wasn’t professional. And when she melted against me, I stopped worrying about whether she wanted this from me. “Of course.” I kissed the top of her still-damp head. “Come stay at my place.” “Thank you.” I just squeezed her. Anything for you, Cameron. Anything.

The vibration of the engine hummed through my body as the scenery flew by. With a motorcycle between my legs and my arms around this gentle beast of a man, it was easy to forget the chaos I’d left behind. Lose myself in the freedom of speed.

As sweet as it was, I didn’t want tea. I wanted this man’s arms around me, cocooning me in safety. I wanted to feel like I didn’t have to be brave for a few hours. I wanted to let him be my courage. My protection. My shield.

As if he already knew me from the inside out—knew exactly what I needed—his expression turned hungry. No bodyguard mask hiding his feelings. His eyes swept over me, lingering on my chest where my nipples brushed against the thin cotton of his t-shirt. Down to the boxer briefs that were so loose they were in danger of falling off. Over my legs, bare from my upper thighs down to my toes.

He slipped his hands around my waist, hauling me against him. He was so tall, I had to look up. Without a word, he tilted his face and brought his mouth to mine.

But I didn’t want a contract with Jude. I wanted him like this—dangerous and raw. Unplanned and untamed. And I wanted him now.

Gathering her into my arms, I held her close. Kissed her forehead. There was something terrifyingly right about this moment. Cameron in my bed, our bodies sated. I could get used to this, and I’d never felt that way about anyone before. Not like this.

I gave her a little grin, relieved things weren’t awkward this morning. “Do you always cook breakfast in your underwear? Because a girl could get used to that.” God, Cameron, I could get used to this too. I cracked another egg. “Only on special occasions.”

“What stopped you?” “I wasn’t sure if you liked me.” She laughed. “What are we, thirteen? I guess I should have dropped a do you like me, check yes or no note on your desk. Where are the forks?” “It might have helped.”

“Why didn’t I see it?” She started pacing around the loft. “I should have known he was evil. He waxes his chest, Jude. He’s neither a model nor a swimmer. Why would he wax his chest?”

“Can you see Aldrich leaving a fish in your bed?” “Not really. But I’m starting to doubt my ability to judge people’s character. Oh my god, I’m going to turn into one of those eccentric paranoid billionaires. How long before I start trying to build an impossible-to-engineer airplane in a massive hanger out in the middle of nowhere?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Cameron, am I your bodyguard tonight? Or your date?” The hint of vulnerability in his voice made my breath catch. I knew if I answered wrong, I’d risk doing permanent damage to whatever was happening between us. “Can the bodyguard take a night off for a date?” He stepped closer and slipped his hands around my waist. “I’ll still be watching out for you.”

I rested my head against Jude’s chest. And in that moment, wearing garish makeup and gold leg warmers, dancing to a cover band’s rendition of Debbie Gibson, I fell a little bit in love with Jude Ellis.

“Did you threaten them?” He smirked, all cool casual confidence. “I wasn’t serious.” “Is that why they left?” Another shrug. “How do you know Russian?” “Mostly YouTube.” I stared at him for a long moment. “Who are you?” “No one of consequence.”

God, I was being an idiot. Of course I wasn’t going to leave her. I couldn’t. And it wasn’t about the job. It wasn’t because I knew she was in danger. There were other people who could protect her. But there wasn’t anyone else who was going to love her. Not like I did. Because holy shit, I loved her like fucking crazy.

“I don’t think you were really fighting about whether or not you should have told him about the video.” “No?” “That was part of it. But I think you’re both struggling to trust each other. And wondering whether or not you’re trusted.” “I trust him.” “Maybe you do, and he’s just not certain of it,” she said. “Or maybe you trust him in some ways, but not others. But I’ve known you for what, four years? I know that trust doesn’t come easily to you.”

“I should go back and talk to him. I handled that so badly and he doesn’t deserve to be my punching bag because I’m stressed.” “No, but I’m sure he’ll forgive you.” Those tears threatened to well up again and a lump rose in my throat. Would he forgive me? God, I hoped so. Because suddenly all I could think about was how empty my life would be without him. About how much I needed him. I didn’t want to need anybody—not like this—because that was a surefire way to get hurt, but damn it, I did. I didn’t just need him. I loved him. Oh my god, I loved that big, gigantic, mysterious, infuriating, gentle, amazing man. I loved him so much, I almost couldn’t breathe.

Fear can do surprising things to a person. Some people crack in the face of terrifying danger. They pass out, or scream, or shake and cower. Others fight back, adrenaline making them stronger, and sometimes reckless. It made me calm.

“Did you implant a bug in her or something?” he asked. “No, in her shoes.” “Her shoes? She has like a hundred pairs. You bugged them all?” “Nope. Just a few.” I pocketed my phone and got back on my bike. “She picks her shoes based on her mood. I figured if I ever needed this, it’d be because she was either trying to ditch me or she was pissed at me. Either way, I bugged a few of her boldest pairs of shoes as a precaution.”

Nicholas insisted on coming with me and I didn’t argue. His wife was missing. A man needed to be able to protect—and rescue—his woman when necessary. I wasn’t going to deny him that.