So far, I wasn’t impressed with one Mila Golding.

She was gorgeous, yes. She also knew it. She was used to saying jump and everybody around her wanted to know how high.

I was more the kind to keep my feet planted firmly on the ground, and when she pursed her pretty red lips, then told me to trot on back to my boss, I held my position.

From what I could tell, her one redeeming quality was the fact that she’d wavered when I told her I’d be fired if I went back to Steadman just on her say-so.

At least she hadn’t fired back with some pithy comment like, That’s not my problem.

Now, standing across from her and watching as she drank from a gleaming black coffee cup, I had to wonder what her next step was going to be. Somehow, I didn’t see her going from outright hostility to being A-OK with the idea of me watching her back.

Finally, she finished the coffee, and she moved over to the phone that hung on a nearby wall.

She punched in a number, jabbing at the keys like she was imagining jabbing into flesh with those neatly manicured, highly polished nails.

She tapped a naked foot, nails painted the same color as her fingertips, as she pressed the phone to her ear.

After almost thirty seconds, she ended the call, then dialed another phone number.

After two more calls, she finally reached somebody, but judging from the sound of things, she wasn’t going to be talking to her father.

“Son of a bitch is avoiding me,” she announced, dropping the phone back into the cradle. She skewered me with a look like all of this was my fault.

Pointing at me, she said, “Okay, so maybe we’re stuck with each other until I can get a hold of my father. But once I convince him that this whole thing is pointless, then you’re gone.” She pointed toward the front door, her meaning clear.

“Once my boss pulls me off, I’m out of here,” I replied. It was the closest thing to an agreement she’d get from me at that moment.

She seemed to pick up on that, too, huffing out a sigh and turning on her heel. As she strode out of the kitchen, I followed, trying not to notice the intriguing sway of her hips as she stalked away.

After she got a few more steps away, I fell into place behind her.

She stopped in the doorway and turned to face me. “What are you doing?”

“My job.” I was supposed to watch her and keep an eye on her until I was relieved by my evening companion at five.

“I have to go finish getting ready. Do you plan to hover behind me in the bathroom while I put makeup on?” she dared me.

“I’ll wait outside in the hallway.”

She flapped a hand at me. “Can’t you wait down here? In this hallway?”

My response was still a level look, and she huffed out another annoyed breath.

I could tell she was going to be thrilled to have me around.

And she wasn’t going to be shy about showing her displeasure, either.

As she started up the stairs, my gaze strayed to her ass and lingered.

Then I gave myself a swift mental kick.

I wasn’t here because of her excellent ass. I was there because I was being paid and her dad thought she might be in danger.

Once she reached the second level of the house, she veered right. She didn’t go very far, stopping outside what looked to be a large, well-lit bathroom.

As she went to the mirror, I started to go over the information I’d been given about her.

She was rich.

She came from people with money.

I had a dossier of information on her – two of them, actually. A print one which I had left in the briefcase I’d bought in the back of my car on my way over – I’d been provided a ride for the duration of the job. Then there was the e-portfolio that carried the same information.

She was loaded.

So was her father, Christopher Golding. He had reasons to believe she might be in trouble. There wasn’t any hard evidence pointing to the fact that she was, but her father had received several emails and phone calls. A few had made vague references to his daughter.

Those references were why I was here.

Feeling somebody’s eyes on me, I glanced up and found Mila watching me from the bathroom mirror.

Her father might have reason to believe that Mila was in danger, but somehow, I didn’t think we had much chance of convincing her of that.

Personally, I didn’t see why she was so bent out of shape about her father’s concern. He was just doing what fathers did. Taking care of his own.

“Okay. I’m done.” She blew out a breath and turned, her eyes connecting briefly with mine. “How do we do this? Do you follow me to work or what?”

“I’ve got a car,” I told her.

She blinked, then slowly shook her head. “No. I don’t think so. We’ll either take the subway or a cab.”

I wasn’t about to try to keep up with her on the subway, so I nodded. “A cab sounds good.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Have you ridden in an NYC cab before?”

I didn’t bother to respond. I had no intention of telling her that until last week, I’d never stepped foot inside New York City, much less needed a cab to take me anywhere.

She took my silence as a positive answer, shaking her head and laughing. “Trust me, you’ll be pining for the subway in no time.”

Seeing as how I’d managed to avoid riding it so far, I didn’t see how that was possible.

But I shook off her concern.