“Dammit, Winnie.”

He stopped and then spoke in a voice that sounded like rough steel. “I find you attractive. That complicates things.” His eyes were impossible to read in the harsh shadows.

Suddenly her heart pounded in her chest. “Is that the truth?”

“Why on earth would I lie?”

His shocking candor made her want to be brave. And that desire gave encouragement to long-sup-pressed yearnings. Here was a man she wanted. And he wanted her.

“I find you attractive, too, Larkin,” she whispered. “Very.” Daringly she traced the curve of one sculpted biceps. His skin was warm to the touch. Arousal sang through her veins. Her gaze settled on his lips.

Larkin shuddered. “This can’t happen.”

“What?”

“This.”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her with raw desperation.

About the Author

JANICE MAYNARD came to writing early in life. When her short story The Princess and the Robbers won a red ribbon in her third-grade school arts fair, Janice was hooked. She holds a BA from Emory and Henry College and an MA from East Tennessee State University. In 2002 Janice left a fifteen-year career as an elementary teacher to pursue writing full-time. Her first love is creating sexy, character-driven, contemporary romance. She has written for Kensington and NAL, and now is so very happy to also be part of the Harlequin Books family—a lifelong dream, by the way!

Janice and her husband live in beautiful east Tennessee in the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. She loves to travel and enjoys using those experiences as settings for books.

Hearing from readers is one of the best perks of the job! Visit her website, www.janicemaynard.com, or email her at JESM13@aol.com. And of course, don’t forget Facebook and Twitter. Visit all the men of Wolff Mountain at www.wolffmountain.com.

Taming the Lone Wolff

Janice Maynard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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One

Larkin Wolff stopped at the computerized video panel, pressed a button and showed his ID. After a brief pause, a light blinked green and the gate swung open. He passed through onto a long winding driveway constructed of almost pure-white crushed stone. Many of his clients surrounded themselves in acres of insulating property, but seldom had Larkin seen anything as peaceful and idyllic as the emerald fields, stately oaks and copses of weeping willows that lined the banks of a meandering creek.

Despite the sense that time stood still here, his skin tingled with a hint of warning. He’d built a career in high-tech surveillance, electronic security systems and even sophisticated cyber protection. Along the way, he’d developed what his siblings and cousins laughingly called a keen Spidey sense.

Larkin went along with the joke. Growing up on Wolff Mountain had made a man of him, and despite being a middle child with a troubled past, confidence was woven into his DNA. But something about today’s meeting made him itchy. And he didn’t know why.

At long last, he pulled up in front of the house. The surrounding real estate, sprawling outside of Nashville proper, was home to country music legends, recording industry moguls and anyone else to whom money was no object. The two story Georgian redbrick lady in front of him sat gracefully on the land, her many windows glistening in the afternoon sun.

Larkin grabbed a notebook and his laptop and got out, inhaling the scent of roses and freshly turned dirt. He had grown up in what many would call a modern-day castle, but this serene facade impressed even him.

Much of his work took him to city high-rises and aesthetically bland corporate headquarters. Today’s setting would be a pleasant change. The summons had been a bit odd and nonspecific. But perhaps he was imagining trouble where there was none. Families with lots of money often felt the need for protection. He should know.

Ringing the bell shaped in the head of a lion, he waited calmly. For a man in his occupation, patience was a prerequisite.

Suddenly, the large door swung inward and a woman stood before him. She was small, barely reaching his shoulder. Barefoot and wearing denim overalls cut off at the knee, the fabric neatly cuffed midthigh, she looked about eighteen. Her untamed hair was the color of corn silk, but it fuzzed out in a mass of unruly waves that almost overpowered her narrow face. Wary green-and-amber eyes surveyed him, even as her pointed chin lifted slightly. “Hello,” she said, her voice low and melodic.

Larkin gave her a brief smile, trying not to notice that the thin white T-shirt beneath the overall bib seemed to indicate she was braless. The curves of her generous breasts peeked out the sides. “My name is Larkin Wolff,” he said. “I’m here to see Ms. Winifred Bellamy. She’s expecting me.”

Winnie felt a sudden need for either smelling salts or a quick belt of whiskey. It had been a long, long time since a virile, handsome man had crossed this threshold. “I’m Winifred,” she said, looking him up and down. “But please call me Winnie.” She stepped back and waited for him to enter, leading him to the nearby salon.

It was one of her favorite rooms. She had furnished it simply but comfortably, and the small baby grand in the corner was one she played when there was no one around to hear. Audubon prints graced the walls, and a pale green silk Persian rug, enormous in length and width, cushioned her feet as she sank her toes into the pile. Its intricate pattern reminded her that someone, somewhere, had labored over its creation for days, months, years. Winnie admired such single-minded devotion.

She curled into an armchair and waved her guest to the sofa. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Mr. Wolff.”

He shrugged. “Your note indicated some urgency.”

“Yes.” Fear and anxiety clenched her stomach, but she fought them back. She was not a victim. She was in charge. “I suppose you read the article I enclosed?”

He nodded with a grimace. “I did.”

Winnie Bellamy hated being robbed. Money was one thing…she had plenty of it. But when Arista Magazine listed her as one of the twenty wealthiest women in America, Winnie lost something she valued more than anything else…her privacy…and her anonymity.

She placed her hands on the arms of the chair, deliberately displaying an air of confidence. “Where do we start?”

Larkin Wolff was not sure what she wanted from him. So he decided to push a little. If part of his line of questioning had more to do with sheer curiosity than actual necessity, well…that was his business. He settled back and drummed his hands on his knees. “Tell me about you and your family… . How did you end up on that wealthiest-women list?”

Ordinarily, he’d have opened his computer by now and would be making notes. But he didn’t want to miss the nuances of expression that danced across Winnie’s open-book face. Her posture and graceful movements projected dignity. She carried herself regally, as if she had spent her formative years at exclusive Swiss finishing schools. And perhaps she had.

She took a moment to almost visibly compose her thoughts before speaking. Her demeanor seemed pensive. “My parents had me when they were well into their mid-forties. The pregnancy was somewhat of an embarrassment to my mother. She and my father were academics, both with IQs off the charts. My ‘accidental’ conception made them look human, I think, and I’m sure they hated that.”

“They are deceased?”

“Yes. Both had advanced degrees in anthropology and archaeology. Their careers and their marriage were spent crisscrossing the globe. They were much in demand as speakers at colleges, universities and basically anywhere that could rustle up the money to cover their exorbitant fees.”

“And that’s how they amassed a fortune?” He lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

“No, of course not. The money was always there. My mother’s great-great-grandfather invented and patented some kind of engine during World War I, and my father’s family owned a large publishing conglomerate in London.”

“Where were you during all their travels?”

Trained to note small tells, he witnessed the brief moment her hands clenched on the chair arms before relaxing again deliberately. “I had governesses, tutors, semesters at boarding schools, an Ivy League education. Everything a child could possibly need.”

“Except parents to tuck you in at night.” The compassion sparked by her terse narrative was born of his own dark memories.

“No,” she said quietly. “I didn’t have that. But there are worse problems, I assure you.”

“Indeed. But having grown up myself without a mother and with a father who was all about business, I sympathize, Ms. Bellamy.”

“I’d appreciate it if you would call me Winnie. Ms. Bellamy is too formal and, quite honestly, I hate the name Winifred. It makes me sound like an old-maid librarian.”

He grinned. “You’re far from that.”

“I had you investigated, Mr. Wolff.” Her cheeks were pink, and he was pretty sure his implied compliment had flustered her.

“I’ve got no problem there. You need to be able to trust who’s doing your security work.”

“Why is your firm called Leland Security? I would think using the Wolff family name would draw in clients.”

“I have all the work I can handle, and besides…”

“Yes?” Her steady gaze dissected him.

“Well, in the beginning it was because I was a typical middle child. I didn’t want to be overshadowed by my older brother or my cousins. Wanted to make my mark in the world. That kind of thing. Thankfully, I outgrew such posturing long ago, but I discovered in the meantime that if I was going to be handling discreet, sensitive matters, it made sense to fly under the radar. Leland is my middle name.”

“Tell me, Mr. Wolff…”

“Larkin,” he insisted.

“Larkin, then. Are you available for a large job? Do you have the manpower? The openings in your schedule?”

“Before I answer that, I have one last question of you. How and when did your parents die? Are you fearful for your personal safety because of the article? Is that it?”

She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. The childlike pose did nothing to detract from her natural beauty. Without a speck of makeup on her lightly freckled, ivory-skinned face, she reminded him of a young Meryl Streep. “My parents have nothing to do with this,” she said tightly. “They were killed in a tsunami. At that time they were living with native peoples on one of the more remote islands of Indonesia. They never stood a chance.”

“Were their bodies recovered?”

“Eventually. But there wasn’t much left to bury. I had them cremated and flown home. DNA testing confirmed their identities. Lawyers aren’t willing to turn over a billion-dollar fortune without definitive proof.”

The horror of her tale was in no way minimized by her flat, deliberately emotionless recounting. Larkin had his own demons to battle, but here was a woman who knew what it meant to suffer.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, wishing there was something he could do to ease the tension from her slight frame.

“It’s been almost a decade,” she said. She stood up and wandered the room, pausing to run a hand over the top of the piano. It was a loving gesture…sensual…appreciative. Without warning, his body reacted. He’d never met a woman less inclined to accentuate her looks, and yet Winnie Bellamy fascinated him.

“Do you play?” he asked.

When she looked up, it almost seemed as if she had forgotten his presence, so lost in the past as she was with memories. “For myself…on occasion.”

“I’d like to hear you sometime,” he said.

She pursed her lips. “Probably not.”

“Why?”

She stared at him in silence, not deigning to answer his question. Perhaps she thought him impertinent. She turned and crossed the room to a small antique secretary. Pulling a silver skeleton key from her pocket, she unlocked the center drawer and extracted something he couldn’t see.

When she returned to his side, she laid a piece of paper on the table at his elbow. His jaw dropped. Though his own personal financial portfolio was in the high seven-figure range (and that was not counting the portion of Wolff Enterprises that would be his in the future), it wasn’t every day that someone tossed a check at him for half a million dollars. Though Winnie had signed the document, the pay to line was blank.

He picked it up gingerly. “What’s this?”

She sat back down, this time crossing her legs and kicking one foot lazily. “That should cover everything I need from you. But I have to know that I am buying your utmost discretion. Nothing you learn about me or my estate can be shared.”

There it was again, that tingling Spidey sense. He dropped the check. “I’m not a priest, a doctor, a shrink or, thank God, a lawyer,” he said gruffly. “If you’re involved in something illegal, I’ll go straight to the police. You can buy my loyalty and discretion, but not a blind eye. Sorry.”

She blinked, her pale lashes only a shade darker than her hair. “Wow. You shoot from the hip, don’t you?”

“I won’t take your money under false pretenses.”

Winnie was not threatened by Larkin Wolff’s displeasure. Instead, she was fascinated. When it was his turn to stand and prowl, she studied him. He was built like a baseball player, long and lean and athletic. Though his looks were pleasing, he wouldn’t be called handsome. There was too much of a permanent frown line between his eyebrows and an unmistakable bump on the bridge of his nose that indicated a past break.

His eyes were a shade of steel-blue that could burn or chill given his mood. The man’s body was a walking testament to working out, his biceps flexing beneath a thin dress T-shirt. He had removed a navy sport coat, and clad only in the oatmeal-colored knit, he looked powerful and intensely masculine. His short wiry hair was mostly black with a few strands of premature gray.

She knew from her files that he was barely thirty. But his visage and demeanor made him seem much older. “Sit down, Larkin. I can assure you that I am a law-abiding citizen.” She was shocked to hear herself ordering him around—shocked even more when he obeyed.

His gaze locked with hers in unspoken challenge.

She sighed. “Since that article came out, I have been inundated with phone calls, packages and more than a few unwanted visitors. At one point, we even had to call in the bomb squad. Fortunately, it was a false alarm, but I can’t endanger my staff’s safety and well-being. I’ve received no less than six proposals of marriage, one of those from a convicted sex offender serving prison time. My personal email account was hacked last week, and the perpetrator sent pornographic images to everyone in my contact list. This has to stop…and soon.”

Larkin leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “I can take care of all of that for a fraction of your big check. Why so urgent? What aren’t you telling me? Stuff like this blows over in a matter of weeks. New gossip arrives, fresh meat scents the air. In a month or two, I’m pretty sure you’ll have nothing to worry about.”

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she clasped her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking. “Even if I am overreacting, I have the right to hire you and ask for certain things…correct?”

There was that scowl again. “Of course you do. But part of my job is to advise you. And throwing away your money isn’t necessary.”

“I won’t be throwing away a cent,” she said, her throat raw with emotion. “For starters, I need you to do the obvious. Install whatever we need to guard our perimeter. And I want you to contract your people to be on duty 24/7 for an indefinite period of time.”

“And deal with phone and internet issues.”

“Yes.”

“What else?”

She hesitated. Everything she had read about this man inspired confidence. But trust was not easily won for someone in her position. “I need you to fill out the check and accept it before we continue.”

His eyes iced with suspicion. “I’ve told you. It’s too much.”

“Then I’ll write two checks…one to Leland Security and one to a charity of your choosing. I want half a million dollars’ worth of protection. Can you or can you not provide that for me?”

“Has anyone ever called you paranoid?”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t imagine a man like you understands what it means to be physically vulnerable. Women are stronger than men in many ways, but we will always face the threat of an attacker’s size and strength and come out on the short end.”

“Have you felt physically threatened since the article ran?”

“No. But there are other issues. As soon as you are sure the house and grounds are secure, I want you to take me somewhere safe for a couple of weeks, three at the most. We’ll leak the fact to the press that I’m running, but I’ll be trusting you to make sure my bolt-hole is secure.”

“I’ve got to tell you, Winnie. You’re confusing me. And I don’t like it.”

She chewed her bottom lip. Larkin Wolff was not a puppet to be manipulated by her will. He had brains and brawn and a surprisingly keen intuition that told him she was lying, at least by omission. She could see it on his face. “Before we go any further, do I have your solemn promise that my personal life and affairs are to be guarded as zealously as my physical well-being?”

He didn’t like being dragged by the tail in the dark. And he was pissed. A shiver worked its way down her spine. If he abandoned her, what would she do?

“Fine,” he said curtly. “Top secret. Need to know.”

“You’re mocking me.”

“Surely you understand that my employees will have to be kept apprised of any potential threats.”

She didn’t like it, but he had a valid point. The more people involved, however, increased the opportunity for exposure. “I understand,” she muttered. “And I’m assuming you do thorough background checks.”

He snorted. “What do you think?”

The impasse was clear, at least in her own mind. She needed Larkin Wolff. And the only way he could help her was if she trusted him with her sworn secret.

Abruptly, she stood up, feeling her knees go weak and her palms sweat. If she made a mistake, the consequences could be disastrous. “Follow me, please.”

He rose, as well, his expression inscrutable. “Whatever you say.”

The check still lay on the table. Trying to buy his silence had been a mistake. Larkin Wolff had a personal code of ethics that she prayed to God was the real deal.

When they made their way through the house to the back and out onto a cool, screened-in veranda, Winnie stopped and waited until he stood beside her, shoulder to shoulder. The view was pastoral, a warm spring day basking in a benevolent sun.

“Over there,” she said, pointing until she realized her hand was shaking. She lowered it slowly. “That’s my primary concern.”

The building, a smaller version of the main house, sat the length of a football field away. Larkin studied it, his jaw rigid. “What’s so special about that spot?”

Tremors shook her, making her limbs weak as water. So many people counted on her. She cleared her throat, tears burning her eyes. “It’s a safe house for battered women and their children. Aside from a handful of trusted staff, myself and now you, only two other people know it even exists.”

Two

Holy hell. Larkin struggled to reassess the mental picture he had painted of a slightly paranoid, vulnerable, eccentric rich woman. “You’re not worried about your own safety at all, are you?”

Winnie never took her eyes off the house in the distance. “No. I can take care of myself.” The stubborn tilt of her chin was an angle he recognized. Growing up, he’d seen it every day in one of his siblings or his cousins. An attitude that acknowledged life’s unfairness, but a determination to spit in the wind anyway. Winnie continued, “It’s my job to make sure those women and children stay out of harm’s way. That stupid article has threatened the security I promised them.”

“Why you? Aren’t there sanctuaries in the city for abuse victims?”

She shot him a sideways glance. “Government shortcomings aside, such situations demand physical distance. Once we bring our clients here, it’s much more difficult for angry husbands and boyfriends to track them down.”

“So you deliberately court danger on your very doorstep.”

She leaned back against a column, one bare foot tucked behind her as she balanced on the other. “You disapprove.”

He shrugged. “Clearly you don’t have the necessary precautions in place.”

He could almost see her hackles rise. “We’ve never had a hint of trouble. Still haven’t, for that matter…at least when it comes to my guests. But the article has opened a Pandora’s box. I need you to nail shut the lid.”

“I have to be honest with you, Winnie. You’re damned naive.”

Her eyes flashed and her hands fisted at her sides. “Maybe I wasn’t clear. I’m hiring you for security, not judgment.”

“Too bad,” he said, the dual syllables terse. “My protection comes with a whole complement of advice. It’s what I do.” He looked out across the neatly mowed lawn. “Take me down there.”

Winnie flinched. “Absolutely not. The women and children in the building are terrified of men…any men.”

“I won’t hurt them. Hell, I won’t even scare them.”

“You don’t know that. Everything about you screams macho alpha guy. You practically ooze testosterone.”

He grinned, the male in him reacting to her interest, even if it was reluctantly given. “Give me a little credit. I can do lowkey. Part of my job is surveillance, remember?”

“I’ve never let anyone step over that doorstep except me and a handful of other professional women.”

“Like who?”

“Doctors. Psychologists. A social worker.” Her unease was palpable.

“You trusted me enough to hire me. Now let me do my job.”

Their eyes locked, determination in his…enormous reluctance in hers. “Perhaps we could save that for tomorrow.”

“Now, Winnie. There’s no reason to wait.” He hadn’t yet had time to fully evaluate possible threats, but he needed to see the whole picture. Protecting the weak and helpless was a calling for him, perhaps not in his personal life, but definitely as a businessman. He would do everything in his power to make sure that Winnie and her charges were safe.

He kept his gaze steady, implacable. Sometimes people didn’t understand how precarious their safety really was. He had a hunch that Winnie was fairly self-aware, but the notion that evil could strike at any moment was a difficult concept for most normal people to accept.

Larkin had seen things that chilled his blood, some of them in his own backyard. He never allowed himself to be lulled into complacency. The world was full of monsters, even on a day that seemed as lovely and serene as a midsummer night’s eve.

At last, his dainty employer cracked. “Fine,” she said, her expression irritated but resigned. “Let me get my shoes.”

She was gone barely a minute. When she returned, something in his stomach tightened in appreciation. Her footwear was an odd cross between practical and quirky. Flat gold sandals made of an infinite number of narrow straps encased her feet and ran halfway up shapely, toned calves. The lick of arousal he experienced disconcerted him.

He swallowed, trying not to look down. “You ready?”

She lifted her chin, nose in the air. “Follow me.” By her voice and expression he saw that she was determined to be in charge. Her contrariness amused him. He’d let her take the lead, but when it came to the job, he’d do it his way, even if she balked. Winnie was paying him for his experience and expertise. Whether she liked it or not, he would take care of whatever or whoever was causing problems.

The stroll across the lawn was accomplished without words. Birds twittered, wind rustled in the trees and somewhere in the distance a lawn mower hummed. Winnie, however, maintained a stiff-lipped silence. Once, when she stumbled briefly, he touched her elbow automatically. She jerked away, no surprise, but not before the feel of her skin was burned into his fingertips. Soft, warm…delicate. Focusing his attention elsewhere was surprisingly difficult.

All the while they walked, he scanned the area, cataloging deficiencies in her security. Unless she had some kind of electrical perimeter, the low split-rail fencing in the distance was nothing more than decoration. With her hand on the front door handle of the neat brick structure, Winnie paused. He saw her throat move as she swallowed. “The children haven’t been able to play outside,” she said, “since the article ran. And I’m responsible.”

He saw pain in her eyes. Regret. Frustrated helplessness. All emotions he had known intimately as a child unable to protect his siblings. “You’re not responsible,” he said, touching her shoulder briefly in what he told himself was a gesture of comfort. “The situation is regrettable, but easily fixed.”

“What do you mean?” Hope and suspicion warred in her striking eyes.

“We’ll string up a camouflage tarp tomorrow…the kind of thing they use on army posts in the Middle East. From the air no one will be able to see the kids.”

“It’s that easy?”

“Let’s just say that’s the least of our problems.”

She worried her lower lip. “Promise you won’t talk to them.”

He mimed locking his mouth and tossing away the key. “Am I allowed to take notes?”

“Is it absolutely necessary? You strike me as the kind of man who keeps a lot of stuff in your head.”

He grinned. “Whatever the boss wants.”

Stepping through the doorway into a house full of women and children was not what he expected. Winnie had told him there were eight bedrooms and currently twenty-one clients. Instead of noise and confusion, an eerie silence reigned.

“Did they know we were coming?” he asked, sotto voce.

“They knew,” she whispered. “Someone is always looking out the window.”

Not a soul appeared to greet them.

Winnie took him room to room on the main floor. “We have an alarm that is set at nine each evening. It’s programmed to ring in the house…my bedroom actually.”

He frowned. “Not the police?”

“Things are pretty spread out around here, in case you haven’t noticed. I guess you could say I’m the first responder.”

“And what exactly do you think you could do?” he asked, not bothering to hide his incredulity.

Winnie stared at him with the haughtiness of a duchess. “I can shoot to maim or to kill, whatever the occasion demands. Don’t worry, Mr. Wolff. I protect what’s mine.”

He felt his anger rise and had to swallow it back. “You’ve hired me,” he said mildly. “No need anymore for you to mete out vigilante justice.”

“You don’t believe me.” It was a statement, not a question.

He ran a hand across the back of his neck. “I’m not disputing your ability to handle a firearm. I’m merely suggesting you let me handle intruders from now on out.”

“And how will you do that from the comfort of your swanky downtown office?”

“You know nothing about my office.”

“Wrong,” she said, her expression triumphant. “A trusted friend of mine made a fake appointment two weeks ago, met you and scoped out your operation.”

“The hell you say…” His indignation mushroomed.

“It’s not unethical.”

“No, but it’s…” He trailed off, unable to articulate the exact mix of emotions he felt. Had a man done the same thing Winnie had done, Larkin would have applauded his thoroughness. Then why was he so taken aback? “Am I allowed to know what your spy uncovered?”

She chuckled, correctly reading his pique. “He told me you ran a tight ship and that your offices indicated a healthy bottom line. Satisfied?”

Larkin shrugged. “I expected nothing less. That’s all true.” He turned away, determined to regain control of the situation. “I’ll ramp up the security measures already in place, and I’ll install cameras. With your permission, we can set up a monitoring station somewhere in your house.”

“What happens when you spirit me away?”

“My best people will be on the job. I swear to you, Winnie, you’ll be in good hands.”

Winnie hoped she wasn’t blushing. Her fair skin was a curse. Being in such close contact with Larkin Wolff was making her act like a flustered sixteen-year-old girl.

She shoved her hands in her pockets to keep them out of mischief. Larkin’s broad shoulders and lean torso were made to cushion a woman’s weary head. Winnie liked the idea, but depending on a man was dicey. It was one thing to hire a professional. That made sense in the most pragmatic way. But fantasizing about close contact on a daily basis shouldn’t—couldn’t—be allowed. Even if handsome blue eyes filled with keen intelligence were her own particular Achilles’ heel. She’d predicated her life on being a good girl…on not rocking the boat. It was disconcerting to realize that she was suddenly contemplating the tantalizing benefits of being bad.

“I’d prefer that you not go upstairs,” she said abruptly, trying to corral her hormones. “I don’t want to upset my guests unnecessarily.”

“I suppose it can wait.” He appeared calm, but she picked up a vibe that said he was completely alert, ready to react in a split second to any sign of danger. A hundred and fifty years ago, he would have been the gunslinger seated in the corner of a saloon with his back to the wall.

All that intensity gave her the shivers. “What next?”

“I need to make a few phone calls, arrange for a security detail overnight while I’m getting other odds and ends set up. And if it’s not too much bother, I could use something to eat. I skipped breakfast.”

She raised an eyebrow, mocking him. “The most important meal of the day? Maybe I should reassess my view of your abilities.”

“Trust me, Winnie. I can run on coffee and sheer cussedness for days. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Trust me. He tossed those words out as if they were the easiest thing in the world to do. Little did he know that her ability to trust was as corroded as an old car battery.

“Are we through here? The women will be wanting to start lunch, but they won’t come down to cook while you’re on the premises.”

“Fine,” he said. “Let’s head back to your house and get this thing rolling.”

Why was it that everything Larkin said sounded like a risqué comment? Perhaps it was the fact that Winnie lived like a nun…Mother Superior shepherding her flock. An asexual being, with nothing to show for her youth but a barrage of bad memories.

Maybe it was sacrilegious, but some days she had a hard time believing in a God who allowed little children to run in fear of their own fathers. It was a question greater minds than hers had wrestled with for centuries. And one that wouldn’t be answered anytime soon.

Before she could lead the way back to the front of the house, a small head appeared around the edge of the doorway into the hall. “Hello, Miss Winnie. Who’s that guy?” The child’s stubby finger pointed accusingly.

“Hola, Esteban. ¿Cómo estás?” She crouched in front of him. “This is Señor Wolff. He’s working for me.”

Esteban’s dark-eyed gaze locked with Larkin’s. “He doesn’t look like un lobo.”

Larkin chuckled, mimicking her posture. He didn’t try to touch the boy or get near him. Which told Winnie that he knew how to act around someone who had suffered at the hands of a violent loved one. “Wolff is my last name, Esteban. I’m helping Miss Winnie make sure this house is very, very safe.”

“So my daddy can’t find us and hit me and Mama again?”

Simple. Direct. And so very heartbreaking.

Winnie saw a muscle flex in Larkin’s jaw. “That’s right. I have lots of people who work for me, and our job is to keep you from being scared.”

Esteban inched closer. “Do you have a gun?”

Larkin nodded. “Several. But I don’t use them unless I have to. Guns are dangerous. Promise me you won’t ever touch one until you grow up.”

The child eyed him with increasing curiosity. “Okay.” He looked at Winnie. “I wish we could play outside.”

She grinned. “Mr. Wolff is going to help us with that, too.”

Her assurance seemed to satisfy Esteban. She pulled him close for a quick hug. Many of the children didn’t like to be touched, but this little rascal craved attention. And she was prepared to shower him with as much TLC as he could handle. “Go tell the ladies that Mr. Wolff and I are leaving. They can come downstairs and prepare lunch.”

As she and Larkin walked back to the main house, he quizzed her. “So, the residents in your safe house basically take care of themselves?”

“Yes. I supply them with plenty of fresh fruits and vegetables. I have a standing order with the nearest grocery store for staples and the supplies for basic meals. It gives the women a sense of purpose and also the autonomy to feed their children as they see fit.”

“Why?” he asked. “Why do you do this?”

The blunt question caught her off guard. She wasn’t prepared to bare her soul to a man who was little more than a stranger. “It’s the right thing to do. I have the money. I can meet a need. Lots of wealthy people are involved in charity work.”

He opened the screen door to the veranda and held it for her as she stepped past him. “None I know go quite this far.”

As she paused on the top step, almost eye to eye with Larkin since he lingered behind her, a harsh, familiar noise filled the air. “Hurry,” she said, grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

As they watched, a white-and-navy helicopter hovered overhead. They could clearly see the man who hung out one door, camera in hand. Despite the precariousness of his position, the daring photographer shot for several moments before saying something to the pilot. The vessel rose, made a wide circle and hovered again with similar results.

Winnie blinked back tears of helpless rage. “Can’t someone arrest them? Isn’t this illegal? Damn it, damn it, damn it. I hate this.”

Three

Larkin shared her disgust. He touched her arm briefly, hoping to convey his concern and empathy. “Unfortunately, they aren’t breaking any laws. But all he’s getting is shots of buildings. Someone can write a story about your house, but with no photos of you, it won’t make much of a wave in the gossip rags.”

He felt Winnie’s distress in the fine tremor that quaked through her slight frame. “I keep thinking they’ll go away, but they don’t. That’s why I have to leave for a while.” Her voice rose at the end, telling him that the stress of the past few weeks was reaching a breaking point.

“Your leaving is easy,” he said, ushering her inside. With a sophisticated lens, someone could snap a decent picture even through the screen. But no need to court problems now. “You said you want me to take you away. I know a place so secure that no one will have a hope of getting near you.”

She banged a pot on the stove with enough force to let him know she was still fighting mad. The soup she poured from a glass container was homemade if he didn’t miss his guess. “Where?” She glanced at him, a frown marring her finely etched features.

“Wolff Mountain.”

The lid to the pot clattered onto the counter before she retrieved it and placed it with exaggerated care on the warming soup. “I’ve read about your family. They don’t like outsiders mucking around in their business.”

“It’s my home. I can invite whomever I want. And I happen to know that no place within five hundred miles is as secure. I’ll take you there, stay a couple of nights to get you settled and then you can consider the next few weeks a vacation in a mountain resort.”

She wiped her hands on a dish towel and leaned back against the cabinet, her smile wry. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It makes perfect sense,” he insisted. “Far more sense than finding an out-of-the-way location and paying round-the-clock staff to guard you. My sister, Annalise, is having a birthday party for her husband on Saturday. So I was planning on going to Wolff Mountain anyway. We’ll circulate to the press a story that you’re vacationing in St. Barts. The paparazzi will head south, and your house will be free of harassment. The story is bound to blow over while you’re gone, and soon it will be safe for you to go back home, particularly with the added security my people will have installed.”

“You came up with that plan in the last hour?” She cocked her head, studying him as if she were trying to see inside his head.

“The best plans are simple.”

“It’s not simple at all. Tell me, Larkin. Am I the type of woman you usually take home for a visit?”

She had him there. His typical encounters consisted of mutually satisfying sex with older women who weren’t likely to want anything from him. Not married women. Never that. But women who were devoted to their careers and didn’t want to put a lot of time into a relationship. In other words, female versions of himself. He opened her refrigerator. “You got any beer?”

“Answer me,” she said.

He found an imported ale and popped the cap with the opener she handed him. “I think, with your permission, we’ll tell my family the truth. I’ve never taken a woman to Wolff Mountain, so I don’t want them getting any mistaken ideas. We have an abundance of newlyweds in my family. They are all nauseatingly happy. I’d prefer not to be the subject of speculation.”

“I’d think that seeing all of your family content and settled would encourage you to follow suit.”

“Not gonna happen.” He took a long slug of his drink and sighed with appreciation. Nothing like an ice-cold beer on a hot day. When Winnie continued to stare at him in silence, he pulled a chair from the kitchen table, turned it around and sat down, arms resting on the curved wooden back. “I don’t want to have to take care of anyone or anything but myself. Now that Annalise is Sam’s problem, I choose not to answer to any woman. I’m a selfish bastard, I guess. But I like being footloose and fancy-free. Nobody looking to me for support, emotional or otherwise.”

“And yet you spend your days taking care of people.”

“That’s different. That’s my job.”

Winnie didn’t seem convinced. But she’d get the picture soon enough. Larkin was a lone Wolff.

She frowned at him. “I have the money to pay for a safe house and for round-the-clock security. I see no need to inconvenience your family.”

“I don’t believe in wasting money. Besides, with you at Wolff Mountain, I’ll have no qualms about your safety. There’s plenty to do. You won’t be bored.”

“I’m seldom bored. But this arrangement seems awkwardly personal.”

“It’s not ideal. I don’t like blurring the lines between my job and my personal life. But in this instance the benefits outweigh the negatives. Setting up a safe house anywhere would take a significant amount of time—time you don’t have. To get you out of the situation immediately means going somewhere that’s already secure. Plus, my family’s home is close enough to yours that we could get you back quickly in case of emergencies.”

Even as he spoke, warning bells sounded in his head. It was disconcerting to realize how easily he dismissed them. Would he have made the same decision if his client was less appealing? The answer was one he didn’t want to face.

While she puttered around, putting soup in bowls, slicing bread and setting the table, he studied her. Though she was slight and graceful, she projected an air of capability that he had to admire. Lots of people wrote checks to save the world. Winnie walked the walk. He normally went for tall, leggy brunettes. Yet somehow, in one oddly unsettling morning, he had discovered that petite blondes with crazy hair and cat eyes had the ability to get under his skin.

He’d tried his best not to stare at her breasts, even if they did play an erotic game of peekaboo. It wouldn’t do for him to develop a “thing” for a client. When he took her to Wolff Mountain, the reason would be business. Her safety. Nothing more. He enjoyed her company, and the thought of spending time with her for a couple of days was not unappealing. But he wouldn’t let himself get involved beyond that.

Larkin had learned a painful lesson early in life. You could try to protect those you loved, but sometimes trying wasn’t enough. Too many failures in that arena had convinced him that he didn’t want a woman in his life on any kind of permanent basis. It was a smart decision, and one he stood by, even today. Winnie was entertaining and stimulating. She would make a suitable “plus one” for the party. Beyond that, they were nothing more than business associates making the best of a bad situation. Despite his undeniable attraction, he refused to have a temporary fling with a client.

Much like her looks, her cooking was unusual and satisfying. The shrimp gumbo she served him was unexpectedly hot as hell. As he choked and washed down his discomfort with a glass of water, she grinned. “Guess I should have warned you.”

“You did that on purpose.”

“You don’t like it?” The mischievous look was unrepentant.

“Of course I like it. But now I’m forewarned.”

“How so?”

“Never underestimate Winnie Bellamy.”

He could tell that his dry comment pleased her.

She glanced at her watch. “As fun as this is, I’ve got things to do.”

“I’m hurt.”

“Be serious. Tell me what I need to know.”

He stood and rolled his shoulders. “Give me an hour to make my phone calls and get one of my teams out here while I run back into the city and pack a bag.”

“Pack a bag?” Her befuddled look amused him.

“I’m staying here until we leave for Wolff Mountain. Three nights. Think you can handle that?”

Her cheeks turned pink. “I’m sure it’s not necessary for the head of Leland Security to stay on-site.”

“You’re paying me five hundred grand,” he said laconically. “That bumps you to the top of the list.”

“I’m sorry if I insulted you.”

The mix of moss-green and muted-gold in her eyes mesmerized him. Despite her homespun attire, Winnie was alluring, seductive…perhaps most of all because he was fairly certain she had no clue how her looks affected the opposite sex. He thought her sideways glance was penitent, but then again, it might have been unconsciously sexual in nature.

Once more, he was perturbed by the way his body tightened and his throat dried. He understood the mechanics of attraction. But it had never been an issue in a work setting. Which meant that he was treading unfamiliar ground. The uncertainty of his own responses put him on edge.

“We’re good,” he said gruffly. “I’ll sit on the porch while I’m using the phone. I don’t want to disturb you.”

Winnie’s gaze settled on his mouth, skipped down to his chest and dropped to the floor. “Make yourself at home,” she said, turning away to gather dishes and tidy up. “I won’t even know you’re here.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire. The old childhood taunt rattled around in Winnie’s brain as she tried to tackle her usual afternoon chores. She had quite a few phone calls to make, as well. Not to mention preparing a room for her unexpected guest.

Her stomach fluttered with anticipation. She was used to living alone. Her staff came and went as needed. Mrs. Cross, her housekeeper and cook, normally worked nine-to-five, but she had the day off for a doctor’s appointment. In her absence, Winnie wandered the upstairs hall trying to select a room for Larkin.

It wasn’t an easy task. If she put him next door to her suite, he might get the wrong idea. But if she gave him quarters in the opposite wing, it could make her look like a prudish virgin, not to mention negating his ability to protect her.

In the end, she compromised—across the hall from her bedroom and two doors down. It was a masculine room done in shades of navy and umber. The king-size bed would accommodate his long frame, and the deep whirlpool tub in the luxurious bathroom was big enough for two people.

When her breath hitched in her throat, she knew she was in trouble. She would not develop a crush on Larkin Wolff. What a laughable idea. She was a lousy judge of men’s motives, and she would rather run naked through a hailstorm before ever hinting at an interest in him. Though at times today the air had seemed thick and heavy with awareness, it was surely all on her side. Larkin Wolff was a professional, a remarkably handsome man in his prime. He could have any woman he wanted.

Winnie had neither the arsenal of feminine wiles nor the sexual confidence to see if the odd, quivery sensations she had experienced in his presence were one-sided. She was buying Larkin’s expertise in security. Her life had been turned upside down by that stupid article, and she was determined to right it.

All I want from Larkin is protection. She repeated it over and over in her head, making sure she understood the score.

But when the doorbell rang at six o’clock, her thighs quivered, her breathing grew choppy and reality smacked her in the face. She was lying, especially to herself. Larkin Wolff would protect her and her charges from outside danger. But the absolute worst threat had already breached her defenses.

She was in sexual quicksand and sinking fast. Pasting on a smile as fake as a three-dollar bill, she swung open the door. “Back so soon?”

Larkin was hot, hungry and irritated with himself. He’d spent the past several hours trying to concentrate on business while at the same time spinning fantasies that involved a naked Winnie Bellamy in his bed. It was ludicrous. He’d like to blame the aberration on the heat or the fact that he’d broken his cardinal rule about drinking on the job and had a beer at lunch. Unfortunately, the temperature was still comfortably in the low eighties, and the alcohol content of the ale was minuscule.

So where did that leave him? He’d worked hard to keep his business life impersonal and his private life completely separate from business. As a security professional, he prided himself on protecting the weak, the innocent and, sometimes, the naive. Occasionally, he protected the powerful, if the price was right. But never, ever did he allow a client to break through his emotional firewalls. He was a man who liked his own company, and he didn’t need anyone. More importantly, he didn’t want anyone to need him…at least anyone who wasn’t paying for his services.

Winnie, he could already tell, was going to pose a problem. He found himself making exceptions to hard-and-fast rules—going over and above what she had hired him to do—and he wasn’t sure he could stop himself. Installing her in the bosom of his family made sense on paper. But the reality was far murkier. Would he have done this for anyone else?

When she opened the door, it was all he could do not to stare. She had showered recently. Her damp hair, twisted in a knot on top of her head, smelled of honeysuckle. He sucked in a sharp breath. Down, boy.

The overalls were gone, but now she wore soft, faded jeans that hugged her trim legs, along with a white T-shirt that read Take a Book to Bed. The image of his new employer tucked beneath the covers wearing who knows what sent his libido tumbling into an entirely inappropriate free fall. He cleared his throat, feeling heat creep up his neck. “I’m back.”

She surveyed the small duffel bag at his feet. “So you are. Come in.”

As he stepped into the cool foyer, he handed her a sack filled with paper cartons. “Chinese takeout. I hope that’s okay. You said your housekeeper had the day off.”

She grabbed the offering and inhaled. “Are you kidding? Ambrosia of the gods. I love living in the country, but the lack of fast food is a definite drawback at times. Come on into the kitchen. And by the way, you get points for paying attention. Most men I know would have missed that entirely.”

“It’s my job to notice details.” Like the way her lacy bra barely concealed pert nipples pressing against thin fabric.

He dropped his bag at the foot of the stairs and followed her into the kitchen like a puppy dog sniffing for a treat. Her feet were bare. Though he had appreciated the sexy gold sandals, her naked toes with raspberry polish were equally alluring.

As they ate, Winnie’s pointed questions reminded him that he was in residence as a professional.

She held up a chopstick, waving it in the air. “Let’s hear it. What am I getting for my money?”

He grinned at her, enjoying the way she sparred with him. “Well, first of all, my top cyber guy is going over all your computer stuff via remote access right now. He won’t tamper with any of your data, but he’ll seal leaks and shore up weaknesses in your points of entry.”

“I have no idea what that means in reality, but go ahead.”

“First thing in the morning, I’ll have a team here installing a sophisticated system around the perimeter of your property. It’s a combination of fencing and electric sensors. I don’t think you’ll find it unbearably intrusive, but with the cameras and the monitoring station here in the house, my team can assure you that no one will approach unannounced.”

When Winnie beamed at him, he felt the punch in his heart first and his gut second. Pleasing her could rapidly become an addiction.

“That’s fast work,” she drawled. “I’m impressed.”

“During the next two days, I’ll work with my team to make sure all the bugs in the system are ironed out. Then, with your permission, you and I will head out for Wolff Mountain first thing Thursday morning.”

Her smile dimmed. “Are you sure you don’t want to just stash me away with an assumed name in some anonymous city apartment?”

“Ideally, yes.” Winnie’s crestfallen expression pained him, but he plowed on. She might as well read his bottom line. “But I see no need to waste time, money and manpower when the solution is at hand without any need for preparation. As I said before, Wolff Mountain is a fortress. Because of that, I won’t feel obliged to stick around. I have no qualms about leaving you there. You don’t have to be scared of my family. They’re pretty nice people, all in all.”

“They’re Wolffs.”

“Yes. And you’re Winifred Bellamy. Perhaps they’ll be afraid of you.”

That made her laugh. “I’ve never scared anyone in my life. I’m harmless.”

“Says the woman who shoots to kill.”

“Or maim.”

“Do I get a choice?”

“Don’t make me mad, and you won’t have to worry about it.”

They were flirting. He knew it, and he was pretty sure she knew it. The awareness in her eyes matched the ache in his groin. Such an unexpected turn of events could make his life both very complicated and extremely frustrating.

When he found himself watching her soft, pink lips form words while at the same noticing the gentle rise and fall of her breasts as she talked, he decided it was time to retreat until he could decide what to do about the situation. “I’m pretty beat,” he said, with an exaggerated yawn. “If you don’t mind showing me my room, I think I’ll turn in and do some reading.”

Her look of incredulity as she glanced at the clock made him squirm. Seven-thirty? She’d think he was some kind of geriatric. He backtracked quickly. “Of course, if you have any other suggestions…”

The room fell silent. His unwittingly suggestive add-on sounded far naughtier than he had intended.

Winnie eyed him curiously. “Like what?”

He swallowed. “Oh, I don’t know. A walk. Netflix. Reality TV.”

The heavy silence lengthened. Finally she responded. “An early night suits me, too,” she said, her expression impossible to read. “I keep case studies on all my moms and kids, not as a licensed professional, but more of an anecdotal record while they’re in my care. I’m behind on several of those, so I should catch up. Especially if I’m going to be gone for a few weeks.”

Something struck him. “Does the state reimburse you for the expenses you incur?”

“Of course not. I choose to do this.”

“Foster parents get a stipend.”

“It’s not the same thing at all. You know I don’t need the money. I wouldn’t take it even if they offered.” She seemed offended that he would even suggest such a thing. Her motives for such dedication were unclear, but since she was only a client, he didn’t press for more. As she stood abruptly, he followed suit. “I’ll show you your room,” she said, the words clipped.

Larkin followed her back to the foyer and up the stairs, pausing only to grab his bag. The house was furnished with impeccable taste, luxury in every detail, but nothing at all ostentatious. He wondered if she had redone the place after her parents’ deaths, and he suspected she had. Somehow the decor reflected the personality of its owner.

When Winnie paused, Larkin followed suit, standing shoulder to shoulder with his hostess as he surveyed the room. He whistled. “Very nice.” This close, he inhaled the scent of honeysuckle again.

“I hope you’ll be comfortable. I appreciate your fitting me into your schedule. Let me know if you need anything at all.”

There it was again. That pesky, subtle does-she-or-doesn’t-she vibe that made his skin itchy and his sex twitchy. He edged past her, determined to remain in control. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. We’ll get started first thing in the morning.”

Winnie stood in the doorway, arms spread frame to frame, expression pensive. “I’d better close the drapes,” she said. “So the morning sun won’t wake you.” With rapid steps, she crossed the room. Now she stood dangerously near the bed. The enormous, hedonistic bed, covered in a brocade-and-satin comforter and sheets that were most likely soft as sin.

Larkin shoved his hands in his back pockets. “I’m always up early,” he said, his throat like sandpaper.

Winnie hovered, straightening a knickknack, smoothing a nonexistent wrinkle from the spread. “I’ll have someone bring you coffee first thing. You’re welcome to have breakfast here or in the dining room.”

The longer she lingered, the harder he got. Hopefully, she didn’t notice, because it wouldn’t do for her to get the wrong idea. He had never allowed his professional life and his personal life to intersect. Even though taking Winnie to Wolff Mountain made sense, and even though he would be the one taking her there because it was his family, he had never had a relationship with a client, and he wouldn’t start now. “I’ll be fine, Winnie. Good night.”

Her face fell as she registered his clear dismissal. “Okay, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.” It took everything he had to watch her leave the room and not stop her. When she was gone, he sank down on the bed, head in his hands. He’d never taken on a case he couldn’t handle. This couldn’t be the first. He wouldn’t let it.

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