Chapter Two
In one of the resort’s restaurants—closed in the early morning hours—Josh Steele wrapped a black apron around his waist and looked over the ingredients spread out at his work station. He grinned and gave a silent thanks to Mrs. Jackson for teaching both him and his kid sister how to fend for themselves in the kitchen—and the world.
Most stand-in parents didn’t give a rat’s ass if their foster kids gained any life skills, and were only in it to collect the paycheck that came with providing a roof over their heads. But he and Anna were lucky when they were placed with the elderly lady from Brooklyn during their teenage years. Josh might never have gone to college without her support, and no way would Anna have gotten back on the right track after getting involved with a gang of troubled teens.
Mrs. J made them feel important, showed them they had value. As a nurse, she also taught them to see the good in others, to give back and help whenever they could, which was why Josh had gone on to serve his country after college—until a bomb shattered his knee and took him out. But it could have been a hell of a lot worse. Far too many of his comrades hadn’t made it home alive. He’d been given a second chance and he damn well planned to make something of it. He owed his fallen soldiers that much.
“What first?” Holly asked.
With her small hands planted on her hips, she looked over the ingredients like they were completely foreign to her. And why wouldn’t they be? She’d grown up with a silver spoon in her mouth and had a handful of chefs to prepare all her meals and drinks. Yeah, she might have changed her last name after moving halfway across the country, but he knew all too well who she was—pampered daughter of Blair Fairfax, ruthless real estate tycoon with far too many enemies.
His boss.
As he handed her a paring knife, he nodded to the ingredient list and instructions written on the index card in front of them. “Why don’t you go ahead and slice some limes and lemons.”
“I’m on it,” she said, an eagerness in her voice that surprised him—even though it shouldn’t have. He studied her for a moment longer, taking in the steely determination in her eyes. They might come from different worlds, but after watching over her for the last couple weeks, it had become glaringly apparent that they had one thing in common—no matter what assignment they faced, they always put forth their best effort. For him, he gave every mission his all because, as a former SEAL, it was ingrained into him. Her reasons weren’t quite as clear to him. Why would a princess run so far away from home—leaving behind all the luxuries her father had to offer her—to work so hard for some douchebag who continued to overlook her for the senior analyst position?
Josh had only been with Encore for a short time, but with Holly’s work ethic and dedication to the company, no one deserved the senior analyst position more. The only thing holding her back was her need to do everything on her own. Why was that? Maybe after this week she’d learn that working with others was a strength not a weakness and finally secure the position she was fighting for. Hell, before he became a security specialist for her father, he’d had to rely on his buddies for survival. In the desert, if one failed, they all failed. Leaving a man behind went against everything a SEAL held sacred.
Wait! What the hell am I doing?
Holly’s life was in danger, and his goal was to get her back home under the safety of her father and his men, not help her get a promotion and stay in California where she was an open target, no matter how much she deserved the position. Unbeknownst to her, someone had threatened her life, and her father hired him to keep her safe and see to it that she returned home. The confidentiality contract he’d signed prevented him from telling her the truth. Apparently, her father hadn’t wanted to upset her. It seemed strange to him—hell, if something had threated his life, he’d want to know—but he didn’t know Holly, or how she’d react to the treat. Maybe she’d give in to hysterics. Besides that, a contract was a contract, and he planned to keep his mouth shut and keep her under his care. No one would be getting near her on his watch.
“Hold up,” a voice said from the front of the room. “Drop everything.”
Everyone stopped what they were doing, and Josh glanced up to see Misty Ward, the middle-aged woman who’d spoken to them at the meeting yesterday. What was it she’d said about the mixology exercises? Oh right, no hands. This ought to be interesting. Seriously, though, how they were supposed to make a Bloody Mary without using their hands was beyond him.
Misty clapped, a huge smile on her face as she adjusted her apron, and pointed to the poster behind her. There is no “I” in Team. “Since this week is all about teamwork and bonding, your partner must pass you the ingredients before you’re allowed to use them.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Claire, who was paired with Stanley, said from the workstation beside them.
Misty wagged her finger. “But remember, no hands allowed. You’re each given a bowl. You must pass the ingredients to the other person, and that person must put them in the bowl before they are allowed to touch them with their hands. Everyone understand the rules?”
Both laugher and groans erupted around them, and Holly made a strange, strangled noise that reminded him of a wounded animal. Josh angled his head to see her. As those big, brown, honey-flecked eyes of hers locked on his, he felt a pull deep between his legs. Shit. No matter how hot she looked in her lacy bra and panties when she’d jumped to his rescue last night, she was the last person he should be thinking about sexually.
His job was to watch over his boss’s daughter—not have sex with her, or think about how sweet she’d taste.
God, that pouty mouth.
But guys like Josh—from the wrong side of the tracks—made great bedmates but not life mates. A past relationship with a rich girl who broke his fucking heart and nearly derailed him during college had taught him to steer clear of pampered women who would never see him as anything more than a good time.
Not that he was looking for more from Holly, or anyone. He wasn’t. That lesson also taught him that when things didn’t go their way, the entitled always ran home to daddy, which he fully expected Holly to do if this trip didn’t produce an advancement for her. Once that happened, he’d collect his money and be well on his way to completing his MBA and opening his own software engineering firm.
“Josh?”
“Ah, what?” he asked, dragging his mind back to the task at hand.
“If you want me to slice the lime and lemons you have to pass them to me.”
“Right.” He reached for them but her hand closed over his to stop him.
Jesus Christ, her skin is so soft.
“No hands, remember.”
“Yeah, shit. Okay.” He looked at the loose limes and lemons lined up on the counter. Christ, he’d been through SEAL training. How hard could it be to use his body to pass Holly a couple pieces of fruit? He glanced to the front of the room, and captured Misty’s attention. “Can we use our elbows?”
“No elbows, arms or teeth,” Misty said, pointing her finger at him. “The first team to get their completed drinks on the counter wins two points, and the best-tasting Bloody Mary wins one point. If you drop anything, you can no longer use it.”
“Here goes nothing.” Josh leaned forward and, using his chin, rolled one of the limes to the edge of the counter. He angled his body and captured it between his chin and chest. He turned and when he caught the wide-eyed way Holly was watching him, her pouty lips parted slightly, the lime slipped.
“Whoa,” she said.
Before it fell, she stepped into him, sandwiching the fruit between their bodies—their stomachs, specifically.
“Good save.” Damn, is that my voice? He cleared his throat and hoped he no longer sounded like he’d sucked a few of those lemons when he said, “I just need you to slide downward, so you can get it under your chin.”
She writhed, and Josh damn near bit off his tongue as her breasts slid lower on his body. He exhaled sharply and tried to keep his mind on the task at hand—and off the sexy way she was moving against him.
“Just a little more,” he said, his cock jumping in his pants.
Down, boy.
Her hands slid around his back and linked as she shimmied lower, her body pressing hard against his to keep the lime from falling. It was all he could do not to grab a fistful of her hair and tug, opening her mouth so he could lean forward for a taste. Would she taste as sweet as she smelled?
“It’s harder than it looks,” she grumbled.
Yeah, no kidding.
Fuck, man, he sure as hell hoped she was talking about the game they were playing and not what was going on below the band of his board shorts. Thank God for the apron. The last thing he needed was for her or the team to know he was sporting the hard-on of the century.
She swayed back and forth in a manner that had his thoughts spiraling in a direction they had no right going. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. He thought about it. Visions of Holly sprawled out on his bed, his to do with as he pleased, raced through his mind’s eye.
Kill me fucking now.
“Almost there,” she said.
Me, too.
A groan crawled out of his throat, and she looked up at him. He briefly pinched his eyes shut, and when he opened them again and found her on her knees, dark lashes blinking over big doe eyes as she gazed up at him, he drew on every ounce of control he had to keep himself from falling to the floor and having his fucking way with her.
Keep your mind on the task, dude.
“You okay?”
Really? She was asking if he was okay? Hell no, he wasn’t okay! She was gyrating against him in a room full of people, and all he could think about was sex—with the last girl in the world he should be thinking about having sex with.
“Yeah,” he said, the denial spilling from his mouth. “You got it yet?” He winced as his voice came out harder than he intended. But Jesus, this was pure torture—dangerous in so many ways.
Watch over my daughter, he said. Find a way to get her to return home.
Josh was pretty sure gyrating against her during a damn mixology contest wasn’t what he’d signed up for. Fuck me.
Behind his back, her fingers slipped and came to rest at the top of his ass. “Just push against me,” she said, her voice wispy, breathless. “I need the pressure to get it under my chin.”
He rocked his hips forward and tried not to think about how many more times they’d have to do this. Christ, by the time they passed the lemons, his balls would match the color of his eyes.
“Got it,” she said, and inched away. She dropped the lime into her bowl, a pink flush on her cheeks as she turned back. She smiled up at him, and when her plump lips parted, his pulse leaped. Jesus, seeing her like this, with her guard down, was just about the sexiest thing ever. She finger-combed her long hair back, flicking it over her shoulders, and desire burned through him.
If he knew what was good for him, he’d back off, ask for a new partner. It was just a matter of time before the chaos building inside him won out and he acted on his urges.
“Holly—” he began.
Her eyes went wide. “Josh, we’re in the lead.” As she looked around the room, her excitement pulsed through him, and he felt something inside him give. “We’re the only team to get a lime into the bowl.” He followed her gaze. “We could really win this.”
Torn between duty and pleasure, he raked his hair from his face and took in her big eyes. Shit. She really wanted to win this, and dammit, he really wanted to help her—even if it went against everything he was trying to accomplish. If she got the promotion, she’d never return home to where she’d be safe under the watch of her father’s men. But like her, he had a competitive streak in him a mile long, and well, maybe they could win just this one. He could give her that much, right?
“Wait, what were you going to say?” she asked.
He cursed under his breath and dragged his fingers through his too-long hair. Jesus, he wanted to cut it, but he was undercover as a techie, gamer dude. Remember your mission, Josh. Get her home. Get her safe. The only way to do that is by losing these challenges.
But she really wants to win.
“I…uh…” But the protest died on his tongue. “Let’s do this.” He rolled a lemon to the edge of the counter.
She steepled her fingers and bounced back and forth from one foot to another as she anxiously watched. “Try not to drop it this time,” she said.
He shot her a glance. “You think it’s so easy.”
“All you had to do was hold it,” she shot back, but her voice held a teasing note.
“I’m going to be mixing all the other ingredients.” With a nod, he gestured to the spot on the floor behind her, to the container that had Vodka, tomato juice, Tabasco sauce, and Worcestershire sauce. At least they’d all been put in labeled plastic bottles, and wouldn’t shatter if they fell. “Let’s see how easy it is for you to hand those to me—or rather, not hand them to me.”
He tucked the lemon under his chin and bent his knees to drop to her height. Breathing a little harder, she stepped into him and angled her head. Her tongue snaked out to moisten her bottom lip, a familiar habit when she was concentrating on something.
Her hands went to his shoulders, and he placed his on her hips. For the briefest of moments she stilled, her nails raking across his T-shirt.
“You good?” he asked.
“Yeah, almost got it.” Her warm, sweet breath—hot and distracting on his neck—washed over his flesh as her hair tickled his chest.
Strawberries. Yeah, he bet she’d taste like strawberries.
“A little lower, Josh,” she said. “Right there. Yes, just…that’s it.”
Would she give directions like that in bed?
Mind on the task, dude.
He bent his knees, and her body brushed against his. The sweet skin-on-skin contact set off a chain of unwanted reactions in his body. He clenched his jaw so hard it nearly popped out of place. Goddammit. Get your mind off sex.
“So, uh, where is it you come from?”
“What?” she asked as she carried the lemon to her bowl. It fell with a clunk, and she clapped her hands.
“Last night, when I was on the bottom of the pool, you said where you come from, you call that drowning.” Truthfully, he still couldn’t believe that she jumped in to help. When he first met her, he’d lumped her into the same category as his ex. She wouldn’t, under any circumstance, jump in the water to save someone if it meant getting her hair wet.
“I live in L.A.”
“That’s where you live, but I take it you come from New York.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Accent.”
Her back went poker straight, a haunted look in her eyes as they drilled into his. Okay, so clearly she didn’t want to talk about home.
“I grew up in New York, but I live in L.A. now. Where do you come from?” Her redirection of the conversation didn’t go unnoticed.
As they continued to pass ingredients back and forth, on to the celery now, he said, “All over. But I spent my high school years in Brooklyn.”
“You’re far away from home.”
“Work,” he said.
“L.A. is the place for techies,” she said.
And protecting rich girls who aren’t privy to the dangers around them. But he thought it best to leave that comment to himself.
She dropped the last celery stick into her bowl then frowned at the plastic bottles in the box on the floor beside her.
“What?” he asked.
“How the heck am I going to pass you those?”
“I have an idea.”
She arched a brow. “Yeah?”
“Why don’t you get it between your knees and pass it to mine.”
“How do you get it from your knees to the counter? You’re tall but you’re not that tall.”
He stepped closer, and their knuckles brushed. “All right, then. I could lie down, and you could drop it onto my stomach. Then you can lie over me. We can press the bottle between our bodies as we stand. We can shimmy it higher until it’s under my chin, then I can drop them into the bowl.”
She went quiet, thoughtful. “You want me to lie down on top of you?”
“Yeah.” She swallowed loud enough for him to hear it, as her glance slid down his body. “Unless, of course, you have another idea.”
She shook her head. “No, I…uh…think that position will work.”
Oh, yeah, that position would work for a lot of things. Mainly sex. Which he absolutely could not have with her. No way. No how. Not even if she asked him.
Okay, maybe if she asked him.