A warm glow washed over her. Jake trusted her with his life? She couldn’t believe how good the first sentence made her feel. Good enough to let the second pass, anyway.
“Okay, I think it’s above and beyond the call of duty, but I’ll come peacefully. But”—she glanced down at herself ruefully—“I suspect you’re going to have your work cut out for you trying to make me look glamorous.”
Still, she wouldn’t turn down any job that might prove she deserved a promotion.
Jake had originally employed her as receptionist in the security company he’d set up shortly after he’d left the army. That had been four years now, and right from the start, the actual security work had fascinated Kim. The thought of learning to fight, to defend herself, sent a thrill of excitement through her. She’d taken classes in mixed martial arts, trained every day until she could hold her own with just about anyone in the company—except Jake.
She had one particularly pleasant daydream of coming across her ex-husband, Michael, and flooring him with a smooth kung fu–like kick. The thought always had the power to cheer her up.
She sank into the far corner of the sofa, unlaced her boots, and kicked them off. “So, do I get to wear a gun on Saturday?” she asked hopefully.
“No, you get to wear a dress.”
“Super.” Kim hadn’t expected a positive answer anyway. It wasn’t fair—she was the best shot in the company. Jake knew that, but he still refused to promote her to that last elusive grade, the grade that would allow her to carry a gun and do the more dangerous work. Instead, he’d set that damned test: break into his office and steal the contents of his safe, and then he’d consider it. Unfortunately, Jake used his office to test out new security gadgets.
But she wouldn’t give up yet.
She didn’t actually want to shoot anyone… Well, unless it was her ex. But something was driving her to prove to Jake she was ready to be seen as an equal. It would be the final proof that she was in control of her life.
“I’ll get in there in the end, you know.”
His lips curled into a slow smile. “Never going to happen.”
“I would have gotten in last time if you hadn’t been sneaky and pretended to go home.”
“Maybe, but I’m thinking of getting a retinal or fingerprint scanner fitted—virtually impregnable.”
She considered him, her gaze lingering on his long fingers, then his dark-blue eyes. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because then I’d need a body part, and I’d hate to permanently maim you just to get a promotion.”
He grinned. “But you’d do it?”
“Hell, yeah. I deserve that grade.”
Curling her legs under her, she tugged absently on the end of her ponytail. It occurred to her—once she overcame her natural antipathy at being told what to do—that changing her image fit quite neatly with her own plans. Though she hadn’t considered anything quite as drastic as a dress, just something to make her appear a little more feminine.
She’d been on edge since that night in his office. For some reason, after four years of never thinking about it, she couldn’t get sex off her mind. Eventually, she’d accepted that it was merely hormones—an itch that needed scratching. And by scratching it, she’d not only get rid of the itch, but would also have the final proof that she was totally over her asshole of an ex-husband.
She wasn’t looking for love or happily ever after. Her parents and then Michael had done an excellent job of curing her of those fantasies. But maybe a no-strings affair.
All she needed was someone suitable. He had to be attractive, convenient, he wouldn’t want anything more than sex, and he wouldn’t be upset to say good-bye when she was ready to cut him loose.
Kim even had a potential candidate in mind.
She worked in a building heaving with testosterone-charged men, but not one of them had ever so much as flirted with her. It didn’t matter that up until now she hadn’t wanted them to. The point was she was a woman, and at least some of them should have tried. She suspected Jake had something to do with scaring them off—he was way too protective of her. But Steve, her potential target, had only recently joined the company and hadn’t yet developed the male attitude of pretending she was part of the furniture. He was her best bet, and all she needed was a little cooperation from Jake.
“So. Security detail at a party,” she said. “Who’s my partner going to be? Who’s going to get the benefit of this new, glamorous me?” She tried for an ingenuous smile. “I think Steve would be good, don’t you?”
“Steve?” Jake’s eyes narrowed; she should have known he wouldn’t go for the ingenuous look.
“You know—the new guy. Tall, dark—”
“I know who he is, and you’re going with Dave.”
Kim scowled. “Dave’s married.” Not to mention he had a seven-months-pregnant wife—definitely not a candidate for her itch-scratching position.