Sophia listened as Isabella, her father’s campaign manager, recited the most important things on today’s agenda. Her father’s campaign team stood packed into the large lobby, filtering through portable tables, water coolers, and a row of printers. Sophia, crammed between a bulletin board and a tower of stacked chairs, placed one neat checkmark beside each appearance that included her. A few universities, a number of press conferences, and a charity banquet to name a few.

A burst of excitement coursed through her as she looked proudly over the list of appearances; she and Papa were going all out this year—divide and conquer at its best. She was ready for it. Last time around, when her mom had been his campaign partner, people had shown nearly as much interest in Camila Vasco as they had her father. Showing a common interest in goals was important, and Sophia was proud to fill her mother’s shoes, assuring voters there was still that strong, female support in his life after Camila’s passing. Sophia had to take leave from her job at the immigration office, but it’d be worth it if her father could hold on to that District Attorney’s chair.

With all the madness going on around her, Sophia was surprised to catch sight of the door just as Blayze Brockton entered. In this part of California, sandy blond hair wasn’t an uncommon sight. But there was nothing else about Blayze Brockton she’d call common. Papa had told him not to bother wearing a suit, as it might make him stand out. Looked like he’d stand out no matter what he wore; the massive size of him alone was intimidating.

The other men in the room shifted as he strode by. Straightening their posture or broadening their chest span in some unnatural looking stretch. Jane, one of the college interns, fanned her face, her eyes never leaving him as he weaved behind the water cooler to stand in a corner. Even Isabella, bless her, stammered over whatever she’d been saying.

Blayze had no idea where Sophia was in the crowd. Maybe she’d slip out of her heels and remain hidden for a few minutes more.

Blayze gave a distinct head nod to a cluster of gawking female interns. Just as Sophia began to wonder when he’d locate her, he turned, shooting a pointed look at Sophia like she had a bullseye pasted on her face. A face that was quickly turning as red as a bullseye under his gaze.

For a moment, it felt like a stare-down. Gorgeous blue eyes presenting a challenge of sorts. The corner of his mouth quirked the slightest bit. Sophia’s did too. It seemed as long as she held his gaze he’d do the same. At last she tore her eyes from him and forced her attention back to her notes, but through the lined pages and carefully spelled out words, all she could see was him. That strong, masculine jaw. Those stormy blue eyes. And that spark of amusement lingering somewhere on his sculpted lips. The heavens would have to help her now—she was distracted just having him in the same room.

As her father took the mic, thanking everyone in advance for their hard work and efforts, Sophia looked up to catch a wry smile from even him. As if he knew the effect Blayze had had on her.

The idea pricked at her pride. Sure, she hadn’t dated a whole lot over the years, but it wasn’t like she was starved for affection.

“As you can all see on the monitors,” her father said, “we still have a generous lead—”

“But that’s no reason to get lazy,” Isabella blurted over him. She took the microphone from his hand. “Things can shift on a dime, and we really want to keep our District Attorney behind that desk, right everyone?”

“Right,” Sophia cheered. She caught eyes with Blayze once more as she lowered her exuberantly raised fist, a wave of déjà vu pouring in.

“Ms. Vasco,” a young voice came. “Do you have anything you’d like us to help you with today?”

Sophia snapped out of her stupor in time to realize the crowd had dispersed. She glanced to the young girl who’d addressed her. The intern who’d been gawking at Blayze.

“Hi, Jane.” She double-checked the blonde’s nametag. “I know there’s something I needed. Let me see…” Sophia scanned over her notes as a few others huddled around her.

“I want to help too if you have enough work to go around,” Matteo said.

“Shut up, punk. I was here first,” came the redhead beside Jane. A tall, gawky kid named Frank. Frank was one of the easy ones to remember, since he always drew a likeness of Frankenstein’s profile at the squared corner of his nametag, stitches and all.

Sophia chuckled, gaze darting to the spot where Blayze had been standing.

Gone, hmm. Not that she needed to know where he’d gone because she wasn’t the one keeping track of him. It was supposed to go the other way around.

“Ah, here it is,” she blurted as she located the item on her list. “I need three-thousand letters sent out by snail mail, not email, which means lots of envelope stuffing. Sounds like the perfect job for a wannabe district attorney, right?”

“Well, if we want the job one day, we’ve got to know the campaigning side of it too,” Jane said.

Sophia smiled. “Absolutely, Jane. What’s your email address? I’ll send you the PDF and you can have these guys help you out.” She motioned to the others.

“Perfect!” The girl listed off her email address. Once she was through, Frank blurted his out as well.

“In case you need it,” he joked.

Sophia gave Jane a nod. “I’ll send that out in the next ten minutes. Thanks for your help, guys.” She wasn’t a stranger to the immature behavior displayed by some of the male interns, but that didn’t mean she was a fan of it either. The fact was, she expected college-aged men to act like men. Especially if they were going through law school with hopes of one day becoming a DA.

She highly doubted the two stooges would act nearly as goofy and desperate to help if she weren’t the opposite sex.

The distinct sound of a man clearing his throat caused Sophia to spin on one heel. And there he was. Dressed in gray Dockers and a shirt too close to black to be gray. Yet there was a hint of ash speckled throughout the fabric, reflecting the stormy blue color in his eyes.

“Hi,” she said, attempting a nod as indiscernible as the one he’d given her earlier.

His eyes swept over the room before landing back on her. “I’d like to go over your plans for the week.”

Sophia thought about that for a microsecond, recalling the few hundred things she wanted to cross off her list before lunch. “I’ve got a ton of things that need to be done in the next few hours,” she said. “Mind if we do it over a bite to eat?”

Blayze shook his head. “Not at all.”

There. That wasn’t so bad. Now maybe she could have her headspace back so she could get some work done.

“So,” he said as he glanced down at her list once more. “Where we headed?”

We? How would she ever get used to this? “My office,” she said, and then led the way.

* * *

The woman didn’t like him. That much was clear. Which was stupid because she didn’t even know him. Stop sulking, Blayze, and focus on your job. He sank into a collapsible chair by the window in what he guessed was Sophia’s temporary office.

“You can sit in one of the more comfortable chairs if you’d like.”

He shook his head. “No thanks.” He pulled a small notebook and pen from his pocket and made a list of a few of the people who’d stood out to him at the campaign meeting. Those he didn’t have a name for he mentioned by description. A quick flip of the page had him looking at the list of things he wanted to ask Sophia, something they might not have time for over a simple bite to eat.

His mind drifted back to some of the other Warrior Project jobs he’d taken on for Sutton since receiving that party invite to his mansion, which turned out to be more than a mingling of high society and retired SEALs.

Some jobs required more detective work than others, something Sutton had taken into account, commissioning a team of private investigators as well. But every protection job Blayze accepted had required a lot of brains to go with the brawn. Especially the hostage situations where he’d been called on to perform last-minute negotiations. Something he specialized in out in the field as well. It was different from battling with weapons. Negotiations had more to do with getting in someone’s head.

“Mr. Brockton?”

Blayze spun in his chair to see Nicolas Vasco in the doorway of Sophia’s office. “Mind if I speak to you for a moment?”

Blayze looked at Sophia in time to see her shoot a warning look to her dad. “Not at all,” he said. “Though, Sophia has asked that we not discuss things without her present. You don’t mind if we remain here, do you?”

Nicolas moved his focus from Blayze to Sophia. “It’s just about a few things.”

“Papi, do you really think it’s necessary?” Sophia asked.

The air got thick quick. Obviously, this was a source of tension between them. Blayze kept quiet as Mr. Vasco’s nostrils flared. “Si, bonita. Now, do you want us to talk in here, or would you like me to take this into my office?”

Sophia dropped her pen, flattened her hand on a stack of papers, and nodded. “Here.”

Mr. Vasco allowed for a triumphant grin and pointed to the couch across from Sophia’s desk. “Please, Mr. Brockton. Let’s sit.”

Blayze took a seat as Nicolas sank into the spot beside him. Though the District Attorney had spent most of his career as a prosecutor, the man had that politician look to him. Clean-shaven, poised, and polished around the edges. Blayze half-expected to hear a high-pitched chime as he flashed his wide, sparkling grin.

“Roman, the guy who’ll be driving for you and Sophia, is a retired detective and close family friend. I want you to utilize him and his connections as you need. Though I understand Mr. Smith isn’t lacking in that department, it might come in handy to have someone running alongside.”

Blayze nodded; he had yet to find a department where Sutton lacked, save decorum at times, not that high society would ever see that side.

“Two-and-a-half years ago, my wife was killed in a rollover car accident.” Mr. Vasco’s accent was different from his daughter’s, more of a roll on the r-sounds. “It was deemed an accident by officials, but Roman and I have had our doubts from the beginning, mainly because of the tire marks at the scene. If Camila had fallen asleep at the wheel, they wouldn’t have found tire marks indicating a sudden jerk of the wheel.”

“Unless she woke up and panicked,” Sophia mumbled from her office chair.

“That’s possible too,” Nicolas said, “just not probable, in my opinion.” He kept his head angled toward Blayze, but his eyes shifted to his daughter. “Sophia hasn’t wanted to accept that her mother’s accident might have been malicious, but the last package she received all but spelled it out. I assume that since you just lost your own mother, you can understand how painful accepting something like that would be…”

“Of course.” Blayze glanced toward her desk. Sophia’s head was down, eyes fixed on the papers before her, but just as he pulled his gaze away, Blayze caught the woman wiping moisture from her cheek. A hot ache pricked his chest as Mr. Vasco continued.

“At this point, I’m sure we can all agree that we’re dealing with the man who killed mi esposa amada, my most beloved wife. And that means he won’t hesitate to kill again.” The intensity in the man’s eyes increased as he leaned in. “I don’t expect you two to be literally joined at the hip, but you do need to stay close. Each penthouse we booked for you will have weights and a workout bench so that you can keep up with your daily regimen without leaving Sophia alone for predictable amounts of time.”

“That’s great. Thank you.” Sutton was always good at requesting perks like that; mainly because it emphasized the type of physically fit and disciplined team he’d assembled.

“I was assured you’d be carrying at all times,” Nicolas said.

“That’s right.” A Beretta M9 and a Smith and Wesson revolver were among the list of weapons he carried on the job.

“And that you’re a good shot.”

Blayze resisted an onslaught of images confirming that very thing. Blood splattering in response to the pull of his trigger. “Yes.”

“I believe in this judicial system, Mr. Brockton, make no mistake. Ideally, we settle things through the law. But if worst comes to worst….” He drifted off there, staring off for a blink before resuming that poised posture. “Well, we’re understood then.”

“Yes, sir,” Blayze said with a nod. “Understood.” That explained why he’d gone to Sutton Smith.

Blayze let the new information simmer as he waited for Sophia to finish up. Upon her father’s departure, she hadn’t so much as acknowledged the interaction. Simply stayed busy with her papers one moment, a laptop the next, and her phone as well. Blayze took notes on the new details he’d received and considered what he’d like the private investigative team to focus on. It was easy enough to work in comfortable silence, but each time Sophia picked up that phone, the sound of her voice distracted him. Sexy was the only word for it. Low and smooth. That accent rolling off her tongue.

“All right…” Sophia mumbled a while later, coming to a stand. “Ready for food?” She straightened her skirt before tossing a purse strap over one shoulder.

Blayze came to his feet. “Whenever you are.”

“Fabuloso. I am seriously starving.” She led the way through the crowded corridor, breezing past suits in business blue and politician grey.

“Hey, Sophia. Your dad’s on top by thirteen percent,” an older gentleman announced.

“That’s what I like to hear,” she hollered over her shoulder.

Jane, the eager intern, shot to a stand as they entered the main work center. “Hey, are you guys grabbing lunch?” Boxes and whiteboards surrounded a line of makeshift desks. Stacks of paper, rolls of stamps, and an endless supply of Re-elect Vasco for District Attorney-labeled pens littered the surface. The girl’s cronies, busy at either side of her, glanced up with wide eyes.

“Yeah, can we go with you?” the one named Frank asked.

Sophia tilted her head, seeming to weigh the option as a kid in a deli apron walked by with a notepad.

“Tell them to order lunch here,” Blayze suggested. “I think it’s best that we talk privately today.”

Sophia stopped walking, leaned slowly back until the side of her forehead rested a mere inch from his lips. He stilled, waiting for her to speak while her sweet, tropical scent swirled in the small space.

“They’re just kids,” she said. “They’ll let us talk amongst ourselves.” Her tone was more casual than testing.

“Not today,” he said.

The chaos slowed in one corner of the room. Blayze glanced over to see they’d gained a small audience where her father stood, a swarm of suits surrounding him. With his eyes set on Sophia, the polished man tipped his chin the slightest bit, seeming to say something with the nod. He cleared his throat then, nudged a gentleman by his side. The chaos picked up once more.

“How about we catch lunch next time?” Sophia hollered to the interns. “Gustav is here taking sandwich orders—the DA’s treat.” And with that, Sophia hurried out of the room.

Blayze considered the interaction as he trailed after her, catching the District Attorney’s gaze along the way. Perhaps he was worried over his daughter’s cooperation; as far as Blayze could tell, there wouldn’t be an issue.

Yet, before he could rest his mind on that alone, another concern surfaced; one that might not be dismissed so easily: There was chemistry between he and Sophia Vasco. Undeniably. Blayze, like any man, knew a good-looking woman when he saw one. But he didn’t determine his type based on physical features. It’d never boiled down to anything as simple as blonde or brunette. It took a complicated list of traits to draw him in. Things that went beyond the surface. Strong and independent. Compassionate and smart. Sophisticated and witty. At a glance, those traits seemed to define Sophia Vasco to a T. Add to that her stunning appearance, not to mention the effect her voice had on him, and Blayze could wind up falling fast.

Of course, he couldn’t be certain the attraction went both ways, and even if it did… that didn’t mean she’d be willing to act on it. Which was good, he reminded himself. Blayze wouldn’t act on anything either under the conditions. He needed to stay focused on his job and nothing else.

At that determination, Blayze pulled open the glass doors leading to the dark parking lot. One of those multi-story cement numbers that kept the sun out. “This way,” he said, motioning to his Land Rover. Black with tinted windows made from bulletproof glass; an upgrade Sutton provided to each SEAL who accepted the job. Something he no-doubt mentioned to Nicolas Vasco. Tomorrow as they hit the campaign trails, Roman would drive; today they were on their own.

Sophia marched in the direction he’d indicated, but the determined force of her steps reeked of irritation. It wasn’t until he pulled open the passenger side door that she spoke up. “De ninguna manera. This isn’t going to work,” she said. “I can’t have someone opening my doors for me all the time like we’re on some never-ending date, okay?”

Blayze glanced down at the way his fingers curled around the edge of the door as she climbed in, using the handle to hoist herself onto the seat.

“Fine by me.” He released the door without closing it. A short stride around the back of the vehicle allowed him to check for anything suspicious; an afterthought with how ticked off he was by her annoying comment. He slammed his own door after climbing in behind the wheel.

“I’m sorry,” she said as he yanked the buckle over his lap. “This is going to take some getting used to. I don’t like being coddled or feeling dependent on someone to do things for me.” She shook her head, kept her gaze on the flat of her skirt as she smoothed a hand over it.

“No problem,” Blayze said. “You and I obviously view the gesture a lot differently.”

“Yeah,” Sophia agreed. Still, she kept her gaze off him. Looking at the dashboard. The rearview. Then back to her skirt where she traced a finger over her knee through the fabric.

Man, she wasn’t easy to figure out, that much was sure. Blayze cleared his throat. “Where to?”

That got her to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she said, a laugh small in her throat. “Don’t you read minds?”

He grinned. “Not yet.” Though his team often joked he could do that very thing.

Her shoulders dropped as she sank back in the seat and sighed. “Do you like Indian food? I’ve been craving curry all week long.”

“Indian food sounds good to me.” With a sting of residing irritation, Blayze added something on to his mental list of to-dos, right under keep Sophia Vasco safe at all costs. Something that seemed to be of equal importance to her: remember not to open her door.