The Wrong Man (Alpha Men 3)

“You really think so?” he asked, fascinated, and his question made her pause and eye him in concern.

“You don’t?”

“Well, we do have some mad chemistry between us.” Pointing that out probably wasn’t in his best interests, but he couldn’t help himself. How could she just dismiss the overpowering sexual attraction between them?

“I’m sure we can overcome our baser urges. After all, I’m hardly your type and vice versa.”

“So what’s your type?”

“Not you.”

What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

“So anybody else but me? That’s a little insulting, princess.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant not someone like you. Someone so clearly not interested in commitment, or in settling down and having kids. You’re the proverbial rolling stone, right? Well, I’m looking for a rock. Someone steady, reliable, interested in establishing some roots. And definitely not someone who gets stabbed for a living!”

“I don’t get stabbed for a living,” he protested. “I try very hard to do the exact opposite of that.”

“And yet, if it comes down to it, you’d take the bullet or the stab wound for your client, right? Which, while commendable and brave as heck, is definitely not what I’m looking for.”

“You’d rather have a coward?”

“I’d rather have a guy who’d put me, our kids, before any client. Who’d think twice before jumping in front of that bullet or placing himself in harm’s way. I’d rather have him around than in an early grave.”

“I’m trying to avoid an early grave, thank you very much,” Sam said.

“Of course you are, but with what you do . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she shook her head regretfully.

“Your perfect cowardly man could walk in front of a bus and still wind up in an early grave. He could get some dread disease or electrocute himself making toast. There are no guarantees in this life.”

“True. But his odds of living to a ripe old age are still better than yours,” she said before wincing. “I’m sorry. That sounded really harsh.”

“I’m really fucking careful,” Sam said. He could hear the defensive heat in his own voice and tried to tone it down. He wasn’t sure why he was letting this get to him. The Laura Prentiss job was never meant to be a permanent arrangement, and Sam had already admitted to himself that he didn’t want to be in the field anymore. He could tell Lia that, but the more cynical side of him acknowledged that it was better if she thought he was the wrong man for her—it meant she’d have no expectations of more from him once they resumed intimacies. “I’m a professional. None of my officers, or I, go into a job prepared or willing to die. That fatalistic bullshit makes for a piss-poor CPO.”

“CPO?”

“Close protection officer.”

“I would just have gone with bodyguard.”

“Yeah, well, you’re wrong on a lot of fronts.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said quietly. He shrugged.

“Since I’m quite clearly the exact opposite of everything you’re looking for in a man, I’m surprised you fell into bed with me in the first place.” Why was he pushing this? Sam wasn’t sure. He was just stupidly and unexpectedly offended that she thought everything about him was wrong. He took snide satisfaction in the uncomfortable blush that lit up her face and kept his challenging gaze level.

“Well, I didn’t say I don’t find you attractive,” she said carefully. “Most women would. You’re very handsome and—and . . . charming when you choose to be. I was attracted to you and I thought I wouldn’t see you again.”

“At least not until baby Delphinium’s christening,” he mused and bit back a smile at her startled look.

He remembered that? People rarely paid attention to—much less remembered the details of—her weird little tangents, so for Brand to remember the exact name she’d used was a little unprecedented.

“Uh, that’s right. So I thought why not—just once—do something a little out of the box and exciting before settling down into my normal, expected life?” Although nothing had really been going as expected in her life for the last couple of years. “I mean, you’re a good-looking, experienced man, so obviously as a healthy, heterosexual woman, I’d find you attractive and intriguing.”

“Good for a quick roll in the hay and nothing more? Why, princess, I feel cheap and used now.” Did he? His voice was light and mocking, but there was an underlying seriousness in his face and eyes.

“That’s all you wanted, a quick roll in the hay—you were quite clear on that. You’re all for meaningless hookups, remember?”

His beautiful mouth quirked at the corners as he recognized his own words. He really was a very attractive man. He had dirty-blond hair, just a shade lighter than golden brown. Six months ago it had been clipped military short, but it was longer now and wavier than she’d expected and looked so thick and silky she itched to run her fingers through it. She liked how it fell over his broad forehead. He kept impatiently shoving his free hand through it to keep it out of his eyes. He had straight, intense eyebrows darker than his hair, slanted over piercing ice-blue eyes. He had creases—from laughter or the glare of the sun, she couldn’t be sure which—radiating from the corner of his eyes that gave his rugged face a lived-in, masculine appeal. When she’d first seen him all those months ago, she’d concluded that he wasn’t as handsome as the Carlisle brothers, but in her opinion he was much, much sexier. He was only about three or four inches taller than Lia’s five foot seven inches, and before his injuries he had sported the spare, muscular build of a triathlete. Naturally he’d lost some of that muscle mass, but he could ill afford to lose the weight and she meant to help him regain some of it with her cooking.