I’m sitting on a bench outside one of the most exclusive buildings in DC, balancing a large cup of coffee on my knee. The security guard manning his post at the door is doing a terrible job at inconspicuously sizing me up. He’s a rent-a-cop, someone in a uniform whose presence makes the people who pay out the ass to live in this building feel a little safer.

While he’s busy with me—a confirmed visitor whose name he’s already checked off his approved visitor list—he’s totally missing the blind spot I noticed in the surveillance camera setup when I checked out the building on my way in. Anyone savvy and sneaky enough could slip right in the side entrance without him noticing. For all he knows I’m a planted distraction for someone intent on getting inside undetected.

Idiot.

The terrible security worries me since I’m here to meet a woman whose husband has been involved in some pretty big shit lately. I should ask Hunter if we have the capacity to take on building security right now. He owns the firm I work for, and we’ve never been hurting for business, but scoring a few points with him couldn’t hurt. Especially since I seem to be in the doghouse lately.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and scroll through my contacts, looking for Hunter’s number so I can send him a text.

My thumb hangs right over Hunter’s name as I fixate on the one right below it. Alexa Jameson.

I keep her number for reasons I still don’t understand. She’d given it to me during the short weekend we’d spent together a year ago, when Hunter sent me to make sure she stayed out of the mess her best friend Hayley got caught up in between her drug-addict ex-boyfriend and a crime lord he owed obscene amounts of money to.

Alexa was gorgeous and easy to talk to. We flirted, and I let myself enjoy it more than I should have. More than I had any right to. Before I left that weekend, she typed her number into my phone.

“This is something, right?” she said, gesturing between us. “You and me. Do you feel it too?”

I did, and it scared the hell out of me. But I let her down easy, and left with an ache in my chest that still hasn’t gone away.

Hunter and I once talked about the clients that stuck with us long after the job was done. He’s about to marry his, and I can’t stop thinking about mine.

Not that I’m going to do anything about it.

My phone rings, snapping me out of my thoughts. My friend Carlos’s picture pops up on screen. He runs the gym down the street from my apartment; Hunter and I have taught some self-defense classes for women there.

“Hey,” I say. “I only have a sec.”

“I thought you were off today?” he asks.

“I got pulled in on a project last night.”

“Anything good?”

I run my hand along the back of my neck. I used to run security for A-list celebrities, for government bigwigs, for CEOs of Fortune 500 companies. In the years I’ve worked this job I’ve put my body in the line of fire to keep important people safe.

These new assignments I’m getting? They’re valuable work, but difficult to admit to.

“I’m running point for security for a birthday party,” I say quickly.

Carlos laughs. “Hunter really busted you down to the D team, didn’t he? From guarding celebrities to being a chaperone. What in the hell did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

He snorts a laugh. “Yeah right.”

“I know you didn’t call to give me shit. What did you call for? The party planner I’m meeting is gonna be here any minute.”

“She cute?”

I shrug. “No clue. I have no idea who she is.”

Carlos sighs. “You up for some drinks later at the Red Derby? It’s dollar-off draft night.”

“And Penny’s gonna be there, isn’t she?” It’s my job to read people, to anticipate their motivations. Carlos is more transparent than most. He’s been showing up at Red Derby on Wednesdays trying to make a move on Penny for weeks now.

“You got me,” he admits. “She’s bringing a friend, too.”

A setup. I figured. “I don’t think I’m up for it tonight.”

“Jesse, man, you’re never up for it.”

A taxi pulls into the circular drive. I figure this must be who I’m waiting for. “I gotta go. Maybe some other night.”

I barely hear his “Yeah, yeah,” before I hang up. I grab my coffee and stand, then move to open the door for the woman in the cab.

My breath catches when she steps out.

Alexa.

She’s more beautiful than I remembered, and she’s the very last person I expected to see this morning.

Her long brown hair falls in waves across her shoulders. Her hair smelled like flowers when she hugged me goodbye the last time I saw her. I’m struck with the strangest urge to bury my face in her neck and breathe deep. Her shirt accentuates her breasts; I’m teased with enough skin that I want to pluck open each button, and lick my way down.

I give her my best smile, hoping like hell it hides my surprise.

“Hey Jesse,” she says. She doesn’t seem as shocked as I am. Figures Hunter would give her a warning but leave me hanging out to dry. She shuts the cab door, and the car drives away.

“What are you doing here?”

She arches her brow, a subtle reminder that I’m being rude.

“What I meant is,” I continue, “I thought you were working for a software development company?”

“A lot’s happened in the last year.” I don’t blame her for the attitude she’s giving me, honestly. “Long story. The abbreviated version is I lost my job and didn’t want to have to move home with my parents. I started this business with a friend, and it’s taking off.”

“Congratulations,” I tell her.

“Thank you.” She fidgets with her bag, taps her fingertips along the shoulder strap. “You’re nervous.”

She lets out a huff of a laugh. “Yeah. Have you met Alice Buchanan?”

I have. “Briefly.”

“Well then, you know why. A lot’s riding on this for me, and she’s not the most agreeable person.” She gives me the once-over, her brows knit together as she sizes me up.

“I’m surprised you’re the one working this party. I thought you were doing more high-profile stuff, not sixteenth birthdays.”

“Long story,” I say, repeating her earlier words. “The abbreviated version is this is where he needed me, so this is where I am.”

“This isn’t going to be a problem, is it? You and me working together?”

“Absolutely not.” That’s the truth. Personal feelings cannot get in the way of my work, it’s one of the requirements of the job.

“Okay,” she nods, letting out a shaky breath. “Are you drinking that?” She points at my cup.

I look down. “Uh…no?”

She gently pulls it out of my hand and takes a big gulp. “Thanks. Caffeine helps with my jitters.”

“It helps?”

“Weird, right?” She shrugs, then motions toward the building. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

I follow her to the rent-a-cop’s station, where he takes her name and consults his list. The kid can’t be more than twenty, and he’s a clumsy mess trying to do his job and flirt with Alexa. His hand shakes as he takes her license to verify her name, and he drops the pen when he gives it to her so she can sign in.

She’s gracious about it, but he’s annoying the hell out of me.

His hand lingers on the small of Alexa’s back as he leads her to the door, and I can tell by the way she shifts uncomfortably that she doesn’t like it, but she’s trying to be polite. I imagine snapping every one of his fingers.

Instead of doing it I say, “Hey. Keep your hands to yourself.”

I give him a look that lets him know I mean business, and it must scare the shit out of him because he stumbles when he opens the door for Alexa. He hits her with his elbow and knocks my former cup of coffee all over her shirt.

With coffee dripping down the front of her, Alexa takes a few deep breaths and closes her eyes.

The idiot rent-a-cop just stands there looking panicked.

“Get her a towel,” I say, annoyed.

“I don’t have one,” he replies, sliding his jacket off his shoulders. “Just this.” He reaches out and plants the jacket right on Alexa’s chest, pressing his palm in between her breasts.

I know he’s just an inept kid, but he’s putting his hands all over her without her permission. I reach out and grab his wrist. “Get your fu-”

“Take your hands off my tits, please,” Alexa says, pressing the jacket against her chest as I pull the kid’s hand away. She blots at the stain as best she can, but it’s not really helping.

“I’m sorry, I-”

She shakes her head, and hands the jacket back. “Where’s the elevator?”

“Over there,” he says bashfully, pointing to the right side of the lobby.

“Thanks,” she replies, then looks at me. “C’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

She walks with a quick clip to the elevator, then presses the button.

“I can take you home to change. My car’s out back,” I offer.

She shakes her head. “I already spilled coffee on my shirt once this morning, and nearly got here late because I stopped to get a new one. I guess I’m just meant to take this meeting with dark roast all over me.”

The elevator dings, and we step inside. Alexa tells the attendant who we’re here to see, and he presses the button for the penthouse. Neither one of us talks as we go up. I’m not sure what to say anyway, especially not with an audience.

When the doors open, Alice Buchanan is standing with her hands on her hips, annoyed.

“One minute late,” she says, looking at her watch before she eyes the stain on Alexa’s shirt. “Time that was certainly not spent making yourself presentable.”

Alexa gives her a kind smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Buchanan,” she says brightly. “I might be clumsy with my coffee, but I’m amazing when it comes to party planning. Want to see what I’ve worked up for your daughter’s sweet sixteenth?”

Alice narrows her eyes, then takes a step back. “Come in,” she says reluctantly.

Alexa and I follow her inside.