Filming for El Traficante has been moved to an undisclosed location in Miami, Florida, for the majority of the film. Unfortunately, Colombia has become too volatile since word has travelled about Rocco Monroe portraying Gabriel Mendoza. As rumors continue to spread that Julia Vargas, Monroe’s ex-girlfriend, will play Victoria Mendoza, this reporter, for one, can’t wait to see Vargasroe back together on the big screen and off-screen too!

“Vargasroe?” Annie rolled her eyes and threw the magazine to the floor. “What a ridiculous name mix. Julicco sounds better.”

“I’ll send a note right away to E! News and TMZ.” She stuck out her tongue at Xander, her best friend and roommate, who was perched against Annie’s bedroom door. “What do you think you’re doing?” He gestured to the pile of clothes surrounding her on her bedroom floor.

“Looking for appropriate business attire.”

“Excuse me?”

“I just sent out twelve résumés to different agencies and I need to look presentable.”

With his eyes furrowed, Xander pushed himself off and walked to the bed, picking up a white oxford shirt she’d thrown there. “And you think this is presentable? Girlfriend, this is dull and you’re a lot of things, but dull isn’t one of them.”

“What am I supposed to wear, Xan? Leggings and combat boots?”

“Well?” He shrugged as if he was considering it, so she tossed a handful of shirts at his head, which he caught just as quickly, then sat back to watch her lose her mind. “What kind of job did you apply for?”

“IT jobs, what else am I going to apply for?”

“You’re a badass soldier. Why would you sit behind a desk all day?”

Annie blew out a breath and sat next to her best friend, laying her head on his shoulder feeling defeated. Maybe she had overreacted. Maybe she could’ve handled things differently. She couldn’t help but wonder if the entire operation was going to shit in the few days she’d been gone. “Because I don’t have an actual degree in badass but instead just a mere Master’s in Information Technology, which means I’ll be sitting behind a desk all day.”

“Honey, you need to go talk to your brother. You need your job back.”

She sat up straight and shook her head. No way. He’d been an asshole and she was in no way going to go and beg. Even if she loved working at ICS and the thought of sitting behind a desk for forty hours a week made her want to hide under her bed and cry. It was ironic, since at ICS she was essentially at a desk job, but she had her finger on the pulse at all times. One day she’d be sitting in the situation room helping command forces overseas and the next she could be planning a strategic way of wiring money for a scorned wife without her husband being the wiser. At ICS, things were never dull, that was for sure. But still, she had pride and the way Joey was treating her wasn’t cool. Of all her brothers, he’d always been the most overprotective, but he’d gone overboard this time.

“Fuck him. I’m not begging. Let the office fall apart. Give him a few more days, then he’ll beg me.”

“And you’ll take the job back, after he begs?”

“Hell, no. But it’ll be nice to see him sweat. Besides, I flipped Rocco Monroe on his ass. I may have injured him. I really doubt anyone’s going to be begging me back. I may get sued, Xan,” she said, anxiously. Even though she was trying to act as if it wasn’t a big deal, it was a huge deal and it was making her very nervous. She’d acted on impulse, on anger, on pent-up frustration, and the poor prospective client had taken the brunt of her anger. He didn’t deserve it, even if he had been too cocky for his own good.

The quietness, the lack of information for the last three days, was disconcerting. A man like Rocco, with an ego bigger than his head, wasn’t going to let it go. A woman kicking his ass? Never.

“What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking that . . . I don’t know what I was thinking. Clearly I wasn’t,” she admitted. She’d acted impulsively. He’d called her “honey,” he’d checked her out, but he’d never acknowledged her as a valuable member of ICS. Or was that Joey? Who was she really pissed at?

Xander flicked her ear.

“Ow!”

“You’re a hardheaded bitch, you know that?”

She rubbed her ear and pointed to the door. “Ha! The only bitch in this room is you, Xan. Get out, I have to pick up this mess and go shopping.”

“Love you, honey.”

She rolled her eyes and shook her head as he walked out of the room. Funny how Xander had always called her honey and it never bothered her, but Monroe said it and she immediately wanted to kick his ass. “Love you too, Xan.”

Her phone rang as she was on her hands and knees picking up her room. Even mad, she’d never avoided her brother’s phone calls. What if there was an emergency? As the youngest of the siblings, everything she ever did was to impress them. To fit in. To feel like an equal. Joey had really let her down by doubting her skills.

“What?” she answered, instead of hello.

“So you’re still being a bitch, I see.” Second bitch of the day and it wasn’t even noon.

“And you’re still being a twat waffle, I see.”

He chuckled. “Do you stay up at night thinking of these insults?”

She snarled into the phone. “What do you want, Joey?”

“Monroe hired ICS. Well, the studio did, but at Monroe’s request.”

“Great. Congratulations.” Why was he calling? Was he trying to rub it in her face?

“There’s one condition, though.” When she didn’t say anything, mostly because she was losing her patience, he continued. “You have to be his bodyguard.”

Annie stopped fumbling around on the floor of her room and sat down, her back against the bed, her ass on the floor. “What?” she asked, baffled and breathless.

“Yep. You got your own case, kid. Happy?” Was he being snarky? He didn’t exactly seem happy about it and she certainly wasn’t happy after everything that went down.

No, I must’ve heard wrong. “I guess you didn’t understand what ‘I quit’ meant.”

“Actually you didn’t really quit. I fired you.”

“You can’t fire someone who doesn’t want to—”

He interrupted her rant. “Open the door. I’m walking up the steps,” he said and hung up. Annie glared down at her phone, outraged. Thumping the back of her head against the bed, she tossed her phone aside and stood up to open the front door.

Xander was in the kitchen blending something in his juicer—something that looked utterly disgusting. He’d gotten her hooked on protein shakes, but those smoothies he made were questionable. “My brother’s on his way in. You may want to put on some clothes?” Her six-foot-tall, very attractive, and very gay best friend was standing there in just boxer shorts and socks.

“No way!” he said, wagging his eyebrows back and forth. “How do I look?”

“Does it matter? I’ve told you a million times, my brother doesn’t swing your way.”

“You keep saying that, but I see the way he stares.”

Shaking her head with a chuckle, Annie concealed her smile as she opened the door with a scowl. She was still mad at Joey and she wasn’t about to let him forget it.

Kissing her on the cheek as if they weren’t in a standoff, her brother walked straight inside as if he owned the joint. “Hey, Xander,” he said, walking to the kitchen, patting his bare shoulder, and looking into the blender. “I’ll take some of that.”

He stood close, not acknowledging Xander’s state of undress and huge toothy grin.

“Sure.” Xander poured some green shit into a big glass. “Cheers.”

They tapped glasses and Joey took a slurp, cringing as he downed it. “Fuck! This’ll put hair on your balls.”

All the while, Annie sat watching the interaction while drinking some orange juice, amused but still wanting to wring Joey’s neck. Plus, she was surprised anyone would willingly drink that green concoction.

“So, kid,” Joey began as he went around the counter to sit down. He had a green mustache from the drink. “Here’s the deal. You start in four days. I’ll email you the details but our Hollywood client lives in Coral Gables, not too far from here. The job’s twenty-four-seven, so pack a bag.”

Her eyes widened, incredulously. He was just going to waltz in as if they hadn’t had a huge argument a few days ago? Even if the prospect of landing the job was exciting, there was still the principle of the thing. Joey didn’t trust her to do the job. He’d knocked her down in front of Rocco when she’d volunteered for it and he’d repeatedly refused to allow her to do fieldwork since she started working at ICS. He didn’t find her capable, and she was too proud to just roll over and accept the offer now just because he needed her in order to land a big client—she wanted him to want her to be the one to do it. “Did you not hear anything I said three days ago and then again five minutes ago?”

“What’s up your ass?” He leaned in and narrowed his eyes. “Are you on the rag or something?”

Xan spewed out a mouthful of green liquid at the same time as Annie’s eyes opened the size of saucers.

She stood up, placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back. “Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?” She grabbed one of Xander’s expensive throw pillows and slung it across Joey’s face. As the only girl in the family, she was used to her brothers being crass and oblivious, but today she wasn’t in the mood. “You never ask a woman that. And not that it’s any of your business . . . no, I’m not. And you have green shit all over your face, moron.”

He wiped his lips with the back of his hand, uncaring. “Calm your tits. You’re not a woman. You’re my sister. And you’re acting bitchier than normal. It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”

“I am being bitchy because you were being a complete dickhead the other day. Not just the other day, actually. Forever. You have forever been a dickhead,” she yelled. Oh my God, had a person’s head ever literally exploded? Because that’s what was about to happen to her. How could she ever say yes to the offer when he was being a complete jerk?

“You sound crazy.” Joey turned his attention to Xander. “Doesn’t she sound crazy?”

“I’m not answering that,” her roommate said, moving a step away and putting his palms up.

Throwing her hands up in the air, Annie yelled, “You make me feel crazy!”

Joey blew out a long breath. “Fine. I will concede to being a dickhead. But that doesn’t mean you can body-flip a client.”

Okay, Joey was right, but it was her experience that men didn’t think women capable of physical things, such as fighting and shooting, and what better way of showing Rocco she was capable than to give him a little firsthand demonstration? But, yes, she could’ve hurt him. And, no, it wasn’t professional. He could’ve been really pissed off and sued them. She had been wrong, but she wasn’t ready to say so. Not when she was still waiting for an apology from her brother.

“I’ll agree. I handled it a little . . . aggressively. But you were still wrong about not letting me do that job.”

“Okay, well, you’re in luck. Now you got the job!” His sarcasm was starting to grate on her last nerve.

“Fine. Great. When do I start?” Obviously, Joey wasn’t going to apologize but it didn’t really matter, at the end of the day she’d gotten what she wanted. And she’d be the consummate professional. Do a fantastic job for Rocco, NHN, and ICS. Protect the big Hollywood bigwig from threats near and far—and most important, prove herself to Joey.

“You start next week.”

“Great.” She stood, ready to walk Joey to the door. “Email me the details.”

When he grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed, she knew immediately something was wrong. A big huge colossal “BUT” was coming.

She fell back into the sofa. “What?”

“He wants someone who could blend in. Fit into his lifestyle.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, give him space to fuck half of Miami. I got that, Joe.” She’d been there when he’d said he needed space to “entertain” and she hated that he’d said it. He was the hottest thing in Hollywood, and it was a no-brainer he had a very active sex life. But still, she’d felt oddly disappointed to hear it coming out of his mouth so casually.

Joey reached forward and pulled her ponytail like he used to do when they were kids and wanted to get her attention. “Come on. You’re smarter than that. You were there. Read between the lines, Annie” He ran his palm down his face. “He feels emasculated for needing a bodyguard and he just wants to appease the studio. So . . .”

Her heart beat, wildly. There was a catch coming, she could feel it. “What? Just spit it out already.”

“You get to play Mr. Monroe’s girlfriend for the next four months.”

Her approach had backfired in a big fucking way. She glared at her brother as she tried to process exactly what that meant.

Pretend to be his girlfriend? Did they have to kiss? Hold hands? Definitely she wouldn’t sleep with him, but did he understand that? What about her job protecting him?

“He says you’re perfect. You can blend in.”

She stood up, feeling conflicted. “I’m a professional. Does he understand I’m not some sort of bumbling Barbie doll?”

“Oh, I think he got that the moment he was airborne and then again when you slammed him against the cement floor.”

Annie downed her orange juice and paced around the room. Of course, her big break was because of her assets, not because she was an asset. This asshole was no better than her brother. All he wanted was eye candy. He didn’t want her for her skill, to protect him. She should have kneed him in the balls after she flipped him on his ass. “How does that work for me?”

With a smirk, Joey answered, “You wanted the job, you got it.” She wanted to punch the smug smirk off his dickhead face. Obviously, this was amusing her brother. Of course it was. It proved that the only way a woman could do the job was because she could bat her eyelashes, push up her tits, and pretend she was dating the client. Her skills hadn’t landed her the job, her vagina had.

And that was not the way she was going to get what she wanted. “I wanted. Past tense. And that’s not how I wanted the job. I want to be a valued member of ICS, not just some airheaded idiot standing next to a movie star. It’s one thing for a jerkwad of a client to ask me to look pretty, but I’m not coming back just so ICS can use me as window dressing for a big client and then bench me back to IT for the next fifty years.”

“For lots of money,” Joey added.

“So a whore? Makes me feel a lot better, Joe.” She shook her head angrily—no, not angry, hurt. So hurt she felt the telltale lump in her throat and knew that her eyes would soon fill with tears. But, no—no way would she cry. It was why Joey, and men in general, didn’t think women could do the same jobs as men. She swallowed the lump down and inhaled deeply. This was her chance to get what she really wanted.

“I’m not going to do this job unless you agree that from now on I get to go after the same jobs as the rest of the team.” Ultimately, she didn’t give a shit what Rocco thought, she was used to sexism. Her looks had got her foot in the door and now she would have to prove to him that she was a lot more than a pretty face. It was that her brother—her flesh and blood—couldn’t see past her gender that really bothered her.

“You’re my sister. Don’t call yourself a whore. I don’t like it. If something happens, we expect you to do your job. And for the record, I don’t think you’re an airhead idiot and neither does anyone at ICS.” For the first time since walking into her apartment he looked serious.

“You don’t think I can handle myself. Otherwise you’d have given me the job from the beginning. I bet you’re only here because Jax made you come and beg me to take it.”

“No one begged me to do anything, Annie.” He exhaled loudly. “I was being an ass, okay? I acknowledge it. It’s just . . . you’re my baby sister and I don’t like the way he looks at you, and also I don’t want you out there where there’s crazy people who could hurt you.” Again, his face was serious, and she could see how much he struggled with letting go on that hold he thought he had on her. Without a father around, Joey had pretty much taken on that role. “But this is a good job. Jax helped me see that. For this job, this is what you get to do. You get to pretend to be his girl and keep your eyes and ears open. I’m not totally cool with this, but I can live with it.”

She shook her head. “You can live with it? How about me? What do I have to live with? What happens after these four months?”

“Let’s see how this job goes and then we’ll talk, okay?”

“Talk? And you promise to give me a real chance at some real fieldwork?”

“Yes, kid. I promise, okay?” She couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face.

“Thank you, Joey!” She clapped excitedly.

“And do not sleep with him! He’s the client and he’s also a womanizing playboy, understand?”

“I would never. He’s the job and it’s all pretend. Don’t worry.”

“Good.” He stood up and playfully rubbed the top of her head like he used to do when they were kids. She swatted his hand away and then stood up to walk him out.

He winked and smiled. “Jesus, that was like pulling fucking teeth. How do you stand living with her?” he asked Xander.

Xander shrugged. “She’s good at taking out the trash.”

“I’ll call Monroe’s people and let them know how amenable and excited you are to get started. Later, Xan.”

“Later, Joe.”

“Oh, and Annie?” he asked before leaving. “Don’t shut me out again. When I call you pick up the phone, okay?”

She puffed out a breath. God, she loved her brother. “Never again. Love you, Joe.”

“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, kid.”

Once he left, Xan practically jumped and pirouetted to the couch. “Rocco Freakin’ Monroe! I better be your maid of honor at the wedding of the century! Mrs. Anabelle Monroe.”

She flung herself back on the sofa and covered her face with a pillow. “Ugh! It’s just going to be pretend.”

Xander chuckled. “Famous last words, honey. Famous last words.”

* * *

“How’d it go with ICS on Wednesday?” Paul asked as he spotted Rocco’s weight training. On an exhale, Rocco lifted the weight. This was the second set and his arms were burning. With Paul’s help, he returned the weight back to its slot with a loud clang.

“Went well.”

“Really? Then why are we working out on a Saturday night?”

Usually Rocco had meetings, premieres, or photo shoots to go to, but today he’d cancelled everything and gone to his home gym. The way Annie had kicked his ass made him want to pump iron. Mostly to blow off some steam, but also to prove to himself he was fit enough to take on a girl. The woman was fire. He’d never met anyone like her. She’d barely glanced at him, except to pummel his ass, and unlike the other women in his life she didn’t, at all, swoon. And that is a word he’d heard a lot from women. He was, after all, Rocco Fucking Monroe. Sexiest Man Alive. What woman didn’t swoon? Annabelle Clad, that was who.

“Because I’ve been slacking. I need to be in tip-top shape for El Traficante.”

Paul snorted. “Slacking? You work out six days a week. Hell, we were here this morning. What’s really going on?”

Rocco didn’t want to admit what was actually bothering him. Shit, he couldn’t quite pinpoint it himself. It was a combination of everything: All the negative publicity he’d been getting, the fact that he needed a bodyguard, that a woman had tackled him to the ground, and that that same woman hadn’t even looked at him twice when he had been so instantly and ardently attracted to her. That had been a first.

But Paul was like a brother to him. They’d both grown up in the same foster care, and only by the grace of God—and luck—Rocco had been spotted by a modeling agent at a mall at seventeen and his career had taken off from there.

He sat down on a bench and wiped his brow. “My bodyguard is five foot seven, strawberry blond, hazel eyes, fucking stacked, and fucking beautiful. I don’t think she knows who the hell I am.”

It was bullshit. Of course she knew who he was. Everybody knew who he was, but Annabelle Clad didn’t seem affected by it.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Paul held up his hands, waving off Rocco’s crisis of fame. “I don’t remember NHN saying anything about a woman. You were supposed to go to the place I sent you.”

Rocco threw the towel aside and stretched his hamstrings, with a knowing smirk on his face. Paul was not going to like this. “I did. I went. The studio said I needed security. They didn’t specify gender.” And he was so glad they hadn’t because he wanted Annie, badly.

Paul groaned dramatically. “Rock, man.”

“She’s legit. Seriously.” He exhaled, and finally admitted as he switched to the other leg, “She beat me up.”

“Pardon?”

Rocco explained what had happened as he did pull-ups. “ . . . so she wanted the job and I laughed when she suggested it. Because man . . .” He shook his head thinking of the way she looked. “Wait until you see her and you’ll understand. But that was a colossal mistake because she did some kung fu shit and flipped me on my ass.”

“So naturally you hired her.”

“Well, of course. She isn’t just hot, man, she’s got skills. And she’ll blend in.”

“Have you even seen the contract yet?” Paul asked. “What are the terms? I hope you didn’t sign anything without me or your attorney reviewing it.”

Rocco released his grip and dropped down and reached for his water bottle with a shrug. It didn’t matter what he said, he was hiring Annie and that was the end of it. “Nope. Don’t care. She’s perfect. Hot as fuck.”

“Not exactly the qualifications for a bodyguard.”

“Did you hear what I said? She body-flipped me. Like over her head and on my ass. She’s qualified. The fact she’s hot is just a bonus. With her by my side, no one will suspect she’s my bodyguard.”

Paul rolled his eyes. “She probably slid you her personal cell number before she kicked your ass.”

“Negative.” Rocco tossed the water bottle into the garbage can. “Didn’t even know who I was.”

“You know that’s bullshit. She may not drool all over you, but she knows who you are. And eventually, you’ll do whatever it is you do that makes women want to sleep with you.”

“I don’t do anything. Haven’t you read People magazine? I’m charming,” he teased his friend. “Women can’t help it.” This was all in jest because the truth was that no amount of charm would work on Annie. He knew that from the few minutes they’d been in the same room. But even so, he wanted to know more about her. She was intriguing and he wondered whether she was always that confident and tough.

If he got to know her, would she be soft and sweet? Or was she always that feisty? And why did she have that big chip on her shoulder? Was it just because of her brother, or was there more to it than that?

“I think this is a mistake but you’re a big boy and you seem hell-bent on this, so not much I can do about it now, is there?”

“Nope, there’s not,” Rocco said as he walked out of his personal gym. “I’m gonna grill some burgers, want any?”

Paul looked at his phone and then stood. “Nah, it’s late. I need to go. Be good and keep me posted on the bodyguard situation.”

Rocco patted Paul on the shoulder as he walked him to the door. “Her name’s Annabelle and it’s going to be great.”

The next day, after his morning routine and while having breakfast, Rocco’s phone beeped with an incoming email from Paul.

Just read the contract, and it’s a go. Studio is signing it since they’re paying. ICS will be in touch to set up an initial meet to go over logistics.

Great, Rocco thought.

In forty-eight hours he’d be living together with a woman for the first time in his life, and ironically it was the same woman who hadn’t looked twice at him before kicking his ass.

He doubled up on the gym again that day.

* * *

It was Tuesday morning and Rocco was fluffing the pillows on his couch.

Fluffing fucking pillows.

He’d never fluffed a goddamn pillow in his life.

But he wanted the house to be presentable, inviting, perfect for Annie. He’d even resorted to Googling her. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much online other than she was a decorated Military Police for the US Army and an employee of ICS. She didn’t have any social media accounts, as far as he could find, or old blogs, vlogs, or YouTube tutorials. In fact, in the last couple of days, he’d become rather obsessed with Annabelle Clad, and he needed to calm himself before she arrived. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he was hoping a short frumpy ugly woman would walk in instead. That he’d somehow gotten the wrong impression of her in those few minutes. Because he’d never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before and he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling.

Definitely, he didn’t like the way his heart pounded in anticipation of her coming over. Or the fact that he’d bet his right arm that she’d taken the job reluctantly.

The first clue was when Rocco had called Joey at ICS and asked if he’d be so kind as to give him Annie’s phone number. Joey had said they didn’t give out employee information, but he would relay the message to Annie who would call him within the hour. Two days later, Rocco was still waiting for her call.

The second clue was when two boxes of protein powders and bars were delivered to his house that morning after he had made his housekeeper, Wendy, stock his refrigerator specifically with his new shadow in mind. Apparently Annabelle was not planning on having any meals with him.

Luckily, Rocco was patient and persistent. She wasn’t going to even try to let him get to know her. How could they have a wild four-month fling if she didn’t even try to get to know him?

The buzz at the front gate had him tossing the pillow down. He looked out the window to see a brand-new Ferrari. From where he stood, he could see the sleek red paint and the iconic yellow logo on the hood. Damn—the car was gorgeous. The woman truly was a badass. He pressed the button opening the gate, and the car rolled in with a hum.

She rounded the driveway and parked behind the fountain as he waited by the front door. Rocco was about to step down to help her out of the car when the driver’s side door swung open and Joey stepped out. So maybe it wasn’t her car after all.

Now, he found himself wondering what she drove. Just one more thing to add to the growing list of things he wanted to know about this mystery girl.

* * *

Annabelle hated Joey’s douchey car, which he had won at some sort of nerd convention, but she needed a lift to Rocco’s house and Joey had volunteered. Well, more like demanded to take her and “check out the joint.”

“You better behave, kid. You’re representing ICS,” Joey warned her as they stepped out of the car. It pissed her off to no end that he talked to her as if she was a bratty child. She was a twenty-seven-year-old, grown-ass woman who didn’t need to be told what to do or how to act. And this wasn’t about some sort of misplaced concern for his little sister. This was just him being an ass—plain and simple. In response, she gave him the middle finger.

“Real mature, Annie.” He glared.

“Suck my dick,” she responded. That was probably why he treated her like a child. She knew she was acting like one. But still, she couldn’t help it. Taking a deep breath, she readied herself to re-meet the man she’d beaten up last time she saw him.

Rocco was gorgeous, absolutely the sexiest man she’d ever seen.

Tall, lean, with cheekbones that hinted at a unique blend of Hispanic or maybe an Italian background. Whatever he was, he was a man meant for the silver screen. And Annie couldn’t help but admire the smooth way he spoke and the confident way he carried himself. She wasn’t a huge fan of the bulky types, like Jax. And Rocco’s lithe frame had her thinking all sort of dirty, delicious thoughts. Dirty, delicious thoughts that needed to end right now. Because while he might look like her dream man, this was her dream job.

She would keep it professional, no matter what.

Leaning against the opened front door in black lounge pants, a white T-shirt, and bare feet, Rocco looked the epitome of relaxed and chic. Except that his eyes roamed over her body like a soft caress, and when they finally made their way up, the corner of his mouth tipped up and his tongue snuck out to wet his top lip, slightly. He was attracted to her, that much had been obvious. But from what she’d read about him online, the man was attracted to anything that moved.

Upon further inspection, though, the way his shirt hugged his biceps . . . maybe there was more bulk underneath his clothes than she’d originally imagined.

“Annabelle,” he said, in a low raspy voice that sent unwelcome tingles down her spine.

“Rocco,” she replied, standing just a few feet away from him, her big duffel bag on her shoulder, mirrored sunglasses on her face, and her arms crossed over her chest. Professional, professional, professional, she chanted to herself. She didn’t want to give him the impression that she found him attractive because it wouldn’t take much for her to melt into a puddle of lustful goo right at his feet. Plus, she wasn’t a casual sex kind of girl—he’d chew her up and toss her aside before she knew what was coming. That was another reason to stay away and keep things completely professional.

Joey stepped forward, his arm outstretched. “Call her Annie, she prefers it.” They shook hands, but Annie stayed put watching the interaction, which basically consisted of Rocco’s eyes glued to hers with a sly smile.

“Does she talk or just glare?” Rocco asked, and then finally turned away to face her brother, even though he couldn’t see her through her sunglasses.

Hiking her bag up higher on her shoulder, she pushed past him into the house. “Occasionally, I beat up the clients too,” she sassed, not bothering to look over her shoulder as she spoke.

He laughed at the same time as Joey groaned, and she could faintly hear her brother apologizing to Rocco on her behalf.

“I’m going to grab the rest of your stuff,” Joey said to Annie as he went back to the car. “Please behave.” Then he turned to Rocco, “You sure you wouldn’t want someone else?”

She could hear Rocco laughing from where she was by the living room. “No. She’s perfect.”

“Where can I put this?” she called out, lifting her bag so he could see it from the door. Rocco walked to her and attempted to take the duffel from her, but she sidestepped him. “I don’t need you to carry my stuff. I’m perfectly capable. Just point me in the right direction.”

The smirk didn’t leave his face, and it became perfectly clear at that moment that the more she sassed him, the more he liked it. As if she were a challenge.

Men.

Leaning closely he whispered, “I will never doubt you’re perfectly capable. This is about me being a gentleman. And I’d like to carry it, not because you can’t handle it, but because I don’t want you to have to handle it.” He took the bag from her arm and turned around, not giving her a chance to answer. “You coming, Tiger?”

Tiger? A sudden pang of memories flooded her and she stood frozen in place.

“Annie?”

She shook the cobwebs from her head and straightened. “Sorry. Right behind you.”

He smiled, and those infamous dimples dipped deep into his cheeks. Fuck, he was going to be trouble. She was unaccustomed to men being so attentive to her. Like she was . . . fragile.

As much as she hated to admit it, it was nice.

Even Derek, who she had loved with all her heart, had rarely done anything chivalrous for her. Maybe it was because they’d been in the middle of Kandahar and she didn’t need to be taken care of. Or maybe he wasn’t the kind of man who liked to hold open doors or carry a woman’s bag. Whatever the reason was, she’d never know.

Annie huffed but looked down to hide the heat that had crawled up her cheek. She didn’t want Rocco to know how he’d affected her.

Instead, she followed him up the wrought-iron stairs, taking in the house as she went.

She’d expected some big ostentatious Hollywood movie star mansion. Either done in stark minimalist modern or opulent gilt and glamour. Instead she found a beautifully cozy home, in an expensive part of Miami, but not the most expensive. According to her research, it was a three-bedroom, four-bath home purchased more than ten years ago, back when he was a rising star.

The décor was warm and very homey, the walls painted in different tones of white. Comfy-looking leather couches were the focal point of the open layout of the first floor and books lined a big built-in shelving unit. Behind it, a large picture window showcased a kidney-shaped pool surrounded by trees. From what she could see it was a decent size pool, but nothing too decadent. Thanks to Google Maps, she knew that beyond the pool there was a small dock and the bay, where most neighbors parked their boats. As far she knew, he didn’t have a boat.

It was lovely, all of it. But unexpectedly subdued.

She took stock of the security. There was a camera by the front gate, barely visible to the untrained eye, that undoubtedly opened via remote. Most people kept the remote in the kitchen next to a small monitor where they could see who was there, and she assumed Rocco was no different.

Also, there was a security alarm panel right by the front door, and likely another one in the garage, possibly a third in his bedroom. She needed to take a better look later. From what she could tell, it wasn’t a great security system, just the basics. Subpar sensors by all the windows and doors. His code was either his birthday or 1234, if he even bothered turning it on. Since this wasn’t a gated community, there were no additional guards or security monitoring the perimeter.

Her professional assessment: his security sucked!

Even if he didn’t have a tangible problem at the moment (which he did), the fact that he was well known and wealthy warranted much more protection than this cheap alarm system.

“Your security system is pretty pathetic.”

He stopped walking and turned. “You haven’t even seen it yet.”

“I’ve seen enough to know. You’re too famous to have such a shitty system.”

“This is Miami. Not LA. I’m not that big of a deal here.”

That was bullshit. He was known everywhere. But it did make her wonder . . . “How come you don’t live in LA?”

“I grew up here and I’ve always liked it,” he replied simply as they reached the landing on the second floor. He walked through a set of double doors and placed her bag next to the bed. “I thought you’d like this room.” He then walked over to a balcony and swung open the doors. “It’s has a view of the bay.”

The walls were painted a soft blue, with white billowing sheer curtains. A big wrought-iron bed with a bedspread in different shades of light blue was the focal point of the room. It was soft and simple and just beautiful.

“It’s . . .” she wasn’t sure what words to use as she ran her fingers across the soft silk of the bedding.

She felt him behind her, close . . . too close. He wasn’t touching her but she could feel his breath on the back of her neck. “Soft. Feminine.”

She turned and swallowed, suddenly nervous at his nearness. And what made it even worse (or better) was that he didn’t move away, he didn’t do anything but look at her in a way she couldn’t interpret. His eyes roamed over her hair and face for a little too long and she didn’t look away, even when she felt her cheeks flush and her heart begin to hammer against her chest, she kept her hazel eyes on his blue ones. “Thank you for agreeing to this,” he said softly.

She was sure he was going to kiss her—positive.

But then he took a step back.

And all she could focus on was not the fact he hadn’t kissed her, but the fact that she hadn’t made a single attempt to stop him.

“This room okay?”

Feminine. Soft. Those were not words anyone would ever use to describe her. Including herself.

His eyes were on hers, searching. Then he reached forward, startling her, and pulled her sunglasses off her face, his thumb gently grazing her temple. She tried not to jump, even though it felt so foreign. “I prefer to look you in the eyes instead of at my own reflection.”

She hadn’t even realized she still had them on. Everything about this man made her do stupid things. Feel inappropriate things. When he didn’t look away, she took her glasses from his hand and stepped away, busying herself with her bag. “I know what you’re doing and we should really talk about setting up some ground rules.”

“What am I doing, Annie?”

She turned and walked out to the balcony. Talking to him made her feel uncomfortable. This was going to be a problem. How could she protect someone she felt all sorts of unusual feelings for? She could barely even look the man in the eye, for crying out loud!

“You’re thinking you can woo me into bed with you. I’m sure all those women you’ve dated dropped their panties at a smile from you, but you should know I’m not like any other woman. I can’t be wooed and I’m definitely not your type.”

From behind she heard him chuckle. “Oh, trust me. I know you’re not like any other woman. And since you think you know my type, I’m assuming you’ve been doing a little research on me? That’s good, I thought you didn’t know who I was.”

She swallowed and looked away. “You’re so full of shit. Everyone knows who you are. Doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret: I looked you up too.”

Annie had to fight back the urge to tense up. So what? He’d looked her up. It’s not like her whole stupid story of heartbreak and disaster was available on Facebook. She knew for a fact there was nothing he could find. She was a computer geek, any time her name popped up anywhere, which it rarely did, she made sure to zap it out. She was uncomfortable having herself out there on the internet where the seediest of people lived.

“Why? I’m no one special,” she replied, proud of how casual she sounded.

“Because you’re going to be living with me. Pretending we’re dating. I needed to make sure there wasn’t anything crazy out there. But I’m sure you already know, there was nothing on you. You know what that means, right?” She looked at him, her eyebrow cocked high, waiting for what he was going to say. “It means I’ll have to figure everything out myself. And the first thing I want to know is why you have that huge chip on your shoulder.”

Annie gave him the finger.

“I don’t have a chip on my shoulder. Go challenge someone else. I’m not that kind of girl.”

“What kind of girl is that?”

“The kind whose panties melt right off at the mere sight of Rocco Monroe.” She batted her eyelashes and puckered her lips in jest. “And speaking of that, I hope you know I’m not sleeping with you. I’m here to do a job. When we’re in public I can tone it down, give the impression we’re dating, but in here, you’re just my client.”

“First, I would never expect you to sleep with me for your job or for any sort of pretending.” He crossed his arms, looking annoyed. “I like my women actually interested.”

“Good to know. And I’m not, by the way. Interested, I mean.” Ugh . . . she rambled when she was nervous. It was a bad habit and she needed to stop doing it. The damn man was making her a wreck. “So, no sleeping together. Or kissing.”

He moved closer, an eyebrow cocked high on his forehead. “No, that won’t work. People will see right through this if we never kiss. We don’t have to make out, but you can’t just rule out kissing altogether.”

Ugh!

“Fine. If the moment presents itself.”

He smiled wide. “We’re negotiating. It’s like we’re a real couple already.”

She rolled her eyes. The man was freakin’ charming.

This was going to be a very difficult four months if the center of every conversation was going to be how to get into her pants. “Whatever, man. The point is, I’m here to work.”

“And part of that work entails that you pretend we’re dating.”

“That’s outside this house. In here, I’m just your bodyguard.”

He stepped closer, his breath too close to her ear. “But out there, you’re mine,” he said, in a tone she hadn’t heard come out of him before. Not the day he’d met him, not during all the interviews she’d seen on him on television, not even in the different roles he’d played. It wasn’t humorously said. It was . . . a statement. A threat. A promise, even.

She’d never been anyone’s. She’d never wanted to be anyone’s. But the idea of being Rocco Monroe’s felt . . . exhilarating.