Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security 3)

“That’s a good thing.” The look on his face makes it apparent he doesn’t believe I have the competence to remain professional.

“I can handle a snot-nosed brat,” I assure him.

I may not want to be here. I may be questioning how long I’m going to be stuck babysitting this girl, but getting involved with her would never happen.

“Let me show you around.” He starts walking again, knowing I’ll follow. “The kitchen and staff quarters are that direction. There’s at least one housekeeper onsite at all times.”

“I’ll be staying over there?”

He shakes his head. “You’ll be upstairs. I’ve already packed all my things and had staff clean the room.”

“I’m upstairs?”

“Being closer to Remington makes it easier to know when she’s getting ready to pull a stunt.”

“She sounds like a toddler,” I mutter as I follow him through the house.

He doesn’t respond. “There are two living rooms. This one doesn’t get used much unless the Blairs are entertaining.”

The oversized room looks magazine ready, like something you’d see in a model home, untouched and cold.

“The second living space—”

A noise to the right as we enter the second living area cuts off his words.

“Remington.” He sighs just as the girl in question walks into the room.

Scratch that. Not a girl. She’s a grown-ass woman.

I keep my face schooled despite the tan on her golden skin. Despite the water droplets that cling to every inch of toned flesh. Despite the fact that she’s wearing the tiniest pair of bikini bottoms I’ve ever laid my eyes on. Despite the fact that her perfect tits are bare, a mesmerizing bounce to them as she walks closer to us.

Praying she doesn’t notice my throat working on a swallow, I maintain eye contact with her to the best of my ability.

She’s fire, absolute destruction, and if I were a smart man, I’d turn around and walk out. I’ve been around a lot of women. When I worked for the FBI, I was put in many situations where I was tasked with romancing women to get information the Bureau needed.

I wish I could say I was a rock. I wish I could say I maintained my sanity. I wish I could say that I didn’t compromise my integrity because of a woman before.

I can’t.

My termination from the Bureau is proof of that, but the complications from that situation have nothing on this girl.

She’s trouble. I can see it in her eyes. I can tell by the sway to her hips, and the way her teeth dig into her bottom lip like she can read me like an open book even though I haven’t outwardly reacted to her in the slightest.

“Remington,” Phillip says with a sigh, and it makes me wonder if his throat gets sore from doing it so often. “We’ve talked about this. Go put some clothes on.”

“This is my home, Phillip. I’m going to be comfortable in my own home.”

Her voice is silk with an edge of huskiness I feel deep in my gut. As she speaks to him, her eyes never leave mine. There’s no damn way she’s only twenty years old.

“Flynn Coleman,” I say as she draws nearer, holding out my hand. I can remain professional. The four words bounce around in my head, becoming a mantra. The second I’m alone, I’m calling Deacon to tell him this isn’t going to work. I don’t think immersion is going to dampen the ridiculous visceral reaction I’m having to her.

She doesn’t take my hand, and from what Phillip told me and the limited information I got in the dossier on this job, it shouldn’t surprise me.

My hand grazes the slick side of her body as she steps against me. Like a fool, I stand my ground, refusing to give an inch. Her arms go around my waist, her wet tits against my upper abdomen as she wraps herself around me in a hug.

By the grace of God, I’m able to keep my hands away from her glistening skin.

My eyes find Phillip’s, and I hope that my frown matches his.

“This is going to be so much fun,” she whispers in my ear, and I blame the cold chills racing down my arms on the dampness she left on my clothes when she turns and sashays away.

Unable to look away, my eyes follow her out of the room, still staying locked on the closed door she disappeared through long after it closes behind her.

“Looks like she’s going to skip the embarrassment and disrespect and jump straight to the seduction.”

Slowly, I turn my head to look at him. “She’s twenty?”

I want to kick myself for the level of unprofessionalism I’m showing, especially so soon after declaring that BBS doesn’t get involved with clients.

It takes seconds for my reaction to her to piss me off and strengthen my resolve. This is a game to her. Phillip made that clear only moments ago, and I’m not going to lose another job because I fall into a trap laid by a woman hoping to watch me break.