Guarding Him Read online

  At least she’d be out and about. Her shoulder was healed, but she’d pushed too hard this morning at the gym, trying to work out some frustrations. Now she was paying for it with some twinges shooting down into her hand.

  Downing a couple of ibuprofen, Nic settled down at her desk. The file she held was everything she needed for the job itself, but she always took a little extra time to make sure the whole picture was as clear as it could be. And that meant research on the family, friends, business associates, and social engagements. She’d feel out the staff once she arrived at the office.

  Besides, she didn’t have to be on duty until three this afternoon.

  Chapter 2

  Nic loved everything about San Francisco. From the diverse population to the weather that was sunny one day and a foggy mess the next, she enjoyed the change. It was an alien planet compared to where she was raised. And honestly, three thousand miles probably wasn’t far enough away from her family.

  As she drove through the streets from Hunter’s Pointe, she relaxed. Even if it was a simple job, it was still work. And she’d missed it. She needed it.

  The buildings rose in floors as she approached the financial district—gleaming glass and steel structures that screamed wealth and privilege. She made a turn and found herself in SoMa (South of Market), filled with a hodge-podge of buildings that were everything from warehouses to turn-of-the-century homes turned into boutique coffee shops and restaurants. Neighborhoods wove in and around some of the biggest software companies on the planet. SoMa was its own little world.

  Pulling into the parking lot of a relatively new building, Nic swung into the visitor spot up front and took inventory. Twenty stories tall, it was an interesting mix of smooth stone, steel, and glass. The first floor had a nice door that looked sturdy, with heavy beveled glass. No other windows at street level, but higher up, there were rectangular windows placed at an angle to let in the light. The next two floors were a mix of the stone and steel, again with the smaller, high placed skylight windows. Above the fourth floor, glass dominated the structure. The whole design was utilitarian but somehow elegant, and from a security point of view, very smart.

  This was going to be a piece of cake.

  Grabbing the briefcase from the passenger seat, Nic locked up and headed for the front door. The doors were as heavy as they looked, and the glass was thick enough to stop the average bullet. Not that an assault on a business building was ever a smart move—easier to take a target from home or somewhere along their regular route. Inside was an elegantly appointed waiting room that could only be accessed once you passed through a metal detector with two armed guards on either side. Nic handed her briefcase to the guard on the right, waited for her signal, and then passed through the detector. Her gun was inside a specially lined pocket that stood up to the very thorough search it received. Hiding it on her person was impractical since she was in a tight dress and heels.

  Nic smiled at the men, and they nodded in return as she walked up to the large reception desk. The woman sitting there was somewhere in her mid-twenties with lively blue eyes and a smile that lit up her whole face.

  “Welcome to Jamison Electronics. How may I help you?”

  Nic couldn’t help but smile back at the girl. Her accent put her from somewhere in the South, likely Alabama or Mississippi. “I have an appointment with Isobel Jamison at three.”

  “Of course, Ms. Montgomery. She’s expecting you. If you’ll take a seat, I’ll call her down for you.”

  “Thank you.” Nic slid her keys across the polished surface. “I have a friend coming for my car in the next half hour. Her name is Lindsay Clarke; if you could give her my keys, I would certainly appreciate it.”

  “Will you need a taxi on standby for your departure?” the girl asked.

  Nic smiled as she turned toward the waiting area. Over her shoulder, she said, “No. I’ll be riding with the boss.”

  The reception area was well lit and smelled fresh due to the real plants and herbs scattered around the room. Nic wandered but made her inspection casual. A pleasing combination, with light walls and interesting paintings, the room was nice. All in all, a place that welcomed while you waited—which wasn’t long in her case.

  The elevator door opened, and the woman who walked out was simply stunning. Isobel Jamison looked better in person than her company photo, with glossy black hair and a soft curvy figure that Nic envied—just a smidge. And while she smiled a very genuine smile, Nic noticed the lines of strain around her eyes and in her walk. Body language and facial expressions were something of a passion of hers, and Nic could tell quite a bit about a person before they even spoke.

  And Isobel Jamison was worried.

  Sticking out her hand, Isobel said, “Thank you for agreeing to take us on, Ms. Montgomery.”

  Taking the proffered hand, “Please call me Nic, and I’m happy to help.”

  “If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you around, and then we can beard the lion in his den.”

  Nic waited until they were in the elevator—one needing a keycard to operate—before saying, “I take it Mr. Jamison is not happy about this stipulation in his contract?”

  “That’s an understatement. My brother hates interference of any kind and views a bodyguard as the ultimate intrusion.”

  Isobel grinned in real amusement this time, and Nic could read the laughter lurking in her expression. “He expects the Hulk with a semi-automatic and no brains?”

  She nodded, “That’s exactly what he expects. And honestly, having never hired a bodyguard before, that’s the picture in my mind as well. I was surprised. Pleasantly so.”

  Nic shared a small smile. Some things never changed. “Anyone that attempts to take or harm Mr. Jamison will also be surprised; that’s why we are a highly effective organization. I will work legitimately as his administrative assistant during the day, and most will just assume that I’ve become his lover when I begin going home with him. I’ve already planted that thought in your receptionist’s mind.”

  Isobel cocked her head to the side, “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “Not unless the client also assumes the same thing.”

  “I’ll bet you’ve had to dissuade more than one client of that notion.”

  Nic shrugged. Since she was tall and athletic, not many of her male clients had attempted it, but there’d been a few. “Occasionally.”

  Isobel stopped at the various floors of the building on the way to her office. Nic briefly saw the security floor, which housed one of the better monitoring systems she’d seen. One wall was a bank of monitors that showed every room and every door, on every floor—except the twentieth floor. That entire floor was a workspace for Ian, as well as a small apartment for those times he refused to leave a project, according to Isobel.

  The floors in the middle of the building housed research and development and were a mess. There were cubicles on the perimeters of those floors, but the middle was clearly a community workspace. Floor ten was robotics, and when the elevator doors opened, a race and betting pool were going on between two small robots. There was yelling and general chaos that didn’t screech to a halt at the arrival of Isobel. Nic considered that very telling, and the fact that Isobel put five dollars into the pot for a strange little robot that moved like a small cat, created even more furor.

  Every floor was the same. Nic saw happy employees that were cut loose to create and work without restriction from the boss. The whole place had a good energy about it.

  Isobel’s office was feminine without being overwhelming. Her taste ran to antique colonial pieces, but her art was modern impressionist. It was an odd mix but worked in the room.

  A plain envelope with Nic’s name waited on the desk. Isobel picked it up and handed it over. “Your I.D. badge and keycard to work the elevators. Also, there’s a list of passwords to access files on the server as well as Miriam’s passwords to the computer inside Ian’s office.”

  “Who within the company knows
my true purpose here?”

  “Ian and me. I didn’t even tell Evan about you.”

  “He’s the older brother, the one in charge of marketing?”

  Isobel nodded. “Yes. I’d introduce you, but he had a meeting across town. You’ll see him tonight at the charity dinner.”

  Nic’s eyebrow arched. “Charity dinner?”

  “It’s for the Police Benevolent fund here in San Francisco. We contribute a large portion of funds set aside for charity to help the families of slain officers. It’s imperative that we continue with business as usual, for Ian as well as those watching us. We’re at a critical point in the company’s growth as a major electronics player in the game, so we cannot show any weakness. That means attending all events already scheduled.”

  “I’ll need a list of those as well.”

  Isobel pointed to the bulging envelope already in Nic’s hands. “Already included. My housekeeper stocked the fridge in Ian’s house and cleaned up a bit. I have a personal shopper as well, and since I am very good at sizes, I’ve taken the liberty of having a dress delivered for tonight. I’ll need your shoe size and need to know if you prefer heels or not.”

  “I have a nice black pair with me that will suit my needs just fine. And the dress needs to cover my shoulders.”

  Isobel shook her head. “Those shoes won’t do for the dress I picked out, and it’s not strapless.”

  This wasn’t a problem in Nic’s world, so she acquiesced. “Size eight and nothing above three inches, or I’ll look like an Amazon.” Plus, she could fight effectively in three-inch heels, but anything over four and she was risking an ankle injury. “Thank you for taking care of the details.”

  “Just take care of my brother. I have a bad feeling about Miriam’s wreck and the timing of it. I’m waiting for a detailed report about it from a trusted mechanic.”

  “I’ve read the police report. Let me know when you get the mechanic’s opinion. I’d be interested to see it.”

  Isobel nodded. “Will do. Your company owner is just as thorough as I am, I see.” Then she smiled again. “Let’s go introduce you to the boy wonder.”

  Nic was curious about her client. He was camera shy, but there’d been a couple of photos in the society pages over the years. His picture for his company profile was at least five years old and showed a serious face, glasses hiding gray eyes, and a lock of unruly chestnut hair that curled on his forehead. He looked exactly like a nerdy, inventor genius should. His bio stated he was six feet, one inch tall, and on the thin side. He trained in martial arts, but a black belt didn’t mean anything when street fighting was the name of the game.

  There were a couple of missing years that occurred after he started the company. According to his bio, everything just stopped. Nic didn’t like unaccounted for time, especially two years of it.

  As she followed Isobel up to the top floor, Nic thought again that this job was going to be simple. A couple of charity dinners, writing up some memos, driving the guy back and forth to work—easy.

  And then Isobel opened the door. The man who turned from the window was anything but nerdy. He was tanned, not wearing glasses, and had a body Michelangelo should carve into marble. Gray laser beams locked onto her as she stood in the doorway.

  Goosebumps broke out over her arms, and a small breath caught in her throat. Good Lord, that kind of look should be illegal. Nic didn’t fidget, ever, but she felt an odd impulse to reach up and make sure her hair was in place. It was girly and stupid, and not like her at all.

  Well, damn. This wasn’t going to be a babysitting job at all.

  Her body hadn’t reacted to a mere look in more years than she could count, but that one look sent a quake of shock through her—a completely unprofessional shock. This was going to be pure torture. Because how in the hell was she supposed to keep her hands off of him?

  * * *

  “Ian, this is your bodyguard, Nic Montgomery.”

  He heard the words, but they didn’t make sense. Nick Montgomery was supposed to be a man. Not a stunningly attractive woman in a black wrap-around dress and heels. He shook his head. Isobel had to be messing with him. Right?

  “I thought I was getting a jock with a gun,” he said. It was directed at his sister, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Tall, with a trim build and pixie-short strawberry-blonde hair, she was one of the rare redheads that had smooth alabaster skin not marred by a single freckle.

  “If you need me to grunt when spoken to, I can probably manage it,” she said. One eyebrow was up in amusement.

  Ian’s sister snorted. He turned a glare toward her, noticing that she enjoyed his discomfort just a little too much. “What happened to the jock?”

  Isobel smirked. “There was never a brainless jock, Ian. That was only your irritation coming out. Ms. Montgomery has excellent references, top-secret clearance, and is who General Atkinson requested.”

  “I’m afraid, Mr. Jamison, that we are stuck with each other until your portion of the contract is delivered,” the woman said. “Once I’m up to speed on the computer, I’ll be everything your Admin Assistant was—only a bit more than expected.”

  Then she smiled—a genuine grin that lit up her face and made her eyes glow. Not just blue eyes either—no—they had to be some exotic violet that a man could easily drown in. He already had a hard time looking away from her; how in God’s name was he supposed to give dictation and not become a blithering idiot?

  “Send for someone else,” he said. Then he forced his body to obey and turn away.

  “No,” Isobel stated.

  Ian turned back at his sister’s tone. He wasn’t going to budge on this. The brainless jock he hadn’t wanted was a better suggestion, and he was about to tell her so, but the stunning woman in his office beat him to it. Or so he thought.

  “Thank you for the introduction, Isobel,” Nic said, “but I think your brother and I need to be alone to iron out some of the details.”

  “Absolutely,” Isobel said, turning on her heel and heading out. “And if the ass gives you any further problems, feel free to punch him.”

  Ian didn’t like the way his sister and Nic smiled at each other, and it’d be a cold day in Hell before anyone got the drop on him. He didn’t care how well she was trained. Besides, his mother raised him better than that. No way would he allow a woman to step between himself and danger if that was really what was going on.

  Once Isobel was out of the room, Nic closed the door, and they were alone. She moved briskly to his desk and set her briefcase at her feet. He turned his back on her, deciding that if he ignored her, then she’d go away. That was his second mistake.

  The first was seriously underestimating her skills.

  He heard her move, and then suddenly she was between him and the window. She shoved him with one hand, hard, but whatever she expected to happen didn’t. Her eyes widened a mere fraction before she stepped several paces back, and there was a gun aimed in his face. He tensed, seeing the threat, but not seeing any menace.

  “Tell me how you would fight me off, Mr. Jamison.”

  She was too far away to disarm, and he knew how. He had a feeling this was her audition, and he hated to admit it, but he was impressed. She’d gotten the drop on him because he’d been stubborn, even if he hadn’t moved when she’d shoved him. “There is nothing I could do without potentially taking a bullet to the brain if you were serious about killing me.”

  Nic nodded. There was no gloating victory in her face when she dropped her arm to the side. “My sole purpose is to keep you alive, Mr. Jamison. It’s not your choice, but it is my job, and I will do my job effectively. I surprised you because you instinctively underestimated me. I guarantee that it will happen again, and it will surprise the hell out of anyone that tries to grab you.”

  “I think you need to call me Ian.”

  “Alright, Ian. My name is Nicolette, but I prefer Nic.”

  “How did you get a gun past security?”

  “I have a
specially lined pocket in my briefcase that they missed. I’m going to suggest a consultant come in and brief your team on the newest technology available for weapons detection, as well as bomb detection.”

  He nodded. Clearly, he needed to have a word with his security team, and if he knew his sister, she’d be on board with Nic’s consultant. “I’m a little old fashioned about letting a woman protect me.”

  Nic opened her briefcase and put her weapon away before sitting down in one of the chairs facing his desk. “I’d assume you were merely a misogynist ass, but the fact that you hired your sister as your CEO/CFO tells me that’s not the case. So, I must be fighting genuine chivalry.”

  “Is that so bad?” he asked, curious. Ian respected ingenuity, and she had surprised the hell out of him. That rarely happened anymore. Women were predictable, therefore boring. Nic Montgomery was anything but, and he wanted to know more about her. And if that meant giving in to this bodyguard business, then he was more inclined now than he was this morning. Not that he’d really let her take a bullet for him, but he’d keep that to himself.

  “No,” she said, watching his face intently. “But it can get in the way.”

  Not wanting the large desk between them, Ian dropped into the chair beside her. “I will do my level best to be a good client.”

  “Why the sudden change of heart? The moment you saw me, you were set against having my protection. And somehow, I don’t think it was the gun.”

  Nic was a perceptive lady. Ian would have to be very careful about how he played this because he had a feeling that little slipped past those watchful eyes. “I don’t honestly think that anyone is after me. There’s always a certain amount of corporate espionage that goes on, but all my people are loyal and happy, so I don’t expect that.”