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He lay on the bed, not bothering to get under the covers. He needed to bury memories of the Nathalie he’d known once and for all and focus on things that mattered. Like building his career with Dìleas and keeping their clients safe from the casual violence and evil humans could visit on each other. During his time with the SAS, and then as one of Lachlan’s security team leaders in Afghanistan, he’d seen more than his share of innocent people at the mercy of extremist ideologies, greed, and a lust for power. His calling was to protect, something he could never have imagined having the strength to do before he joined the military.
His mind refused to comply. Instead, he found himself mentally tracing the contours of Nathalie’s face, the lines of her body, soaking in the changes eight years had made. She was harder in some places, her face thinner, and softer in others, her hips and bottom curvier, her breasts fuller. He wanted to run his hands beneath her clothes, feel his way over her body, find out what else had changed. She’d straightened her hair. Another surprise. She’d always been so proud of her curls, even though they took work to maintain.
A curvy, confident professional woman had replaced the perky, curly-haired college girl, and, God damn her, she still had the power to make him ache.
His sigh echoed into the darkness. This was a mistake. He should have told Lachlan he had a conflict of interest with the client and let Nathan handle Nathalie’s security until Caleb was available.
He hadn’t expected Nathalie to be clinging to pieces of their past. He hadn’t expected to still feel the same tug of attraction.
But something nagged at him. There was more to their breakup than she was willing to admit. She was going to tell him the truth about why she walked away.
Because the truth would set him free.
Then he would let her go. For good.
Finally.
Something to listen to other than Nathalie Williams nattering on to herself. Tonight, she hadn’t come home alone.
The other voice in the recording was male.
Interesting.
In two weeks of surveillance, she hadn’t had a romantic tryst or even a night out with the girls. What a fucking boring life the woman led.
Even more interesting—the man was British. A posh one, judging by the way he spoke.
He sounded familiar. Where was that voice from?
Say his name.
This was going to nag at him like a sore tooth.
To distract himself, he mentally reviewed the profiles of all the employees at Williams. The vice president had more years at the company and more experience, but was passed over in favor of the founder’s daughter.
That had to sting.
The senior software engineer assigned to the project had taken on more debt than he should have.
Lots of stress there.
The head of IT had to split his military pension with his now ex-wife. Judging from the divorce proceedings, it wasn’t an amicable split.
Bet he just kissed an early retirement goodbye.
The hack into Williams Advanced Avionics hadn’t produced the information he needed. Time to move to Plan B.
He kept listening.
Fucking hell.
Irritation wrapped itself around the muscles in his spine, obliterating the post-sex relaxation he’d had after shagging his current asset. Whoever this man was, he was in security. He’d found the tracker on her car. Now the advantage of surprise was gone, and it was a chess match.
He continued listening. Ah, it appeared Ms. Williams didn’t seem to want her protector around.
That’s right, luv, send him packing. I’ll take care of you.
He took a bite of crisp red apple, its sweet-tart juice tingling his taste buds as he chewed the firm flesh and listened to the rest of the conversation. Of all the nights to have made other plans. If he’d been able to listen in real time, he could have stationed himself on her street and glimpsed the man leaving Nathalie’s home.