Page 3 of Protected by the Loner (The Men of Ghost Security #2)

OWEN

V ivian’s apartment is small, but every inch of it is hers—books stacked two deep on the shelves, their spines cracked from use.

A blanket draped over the couch. Plants thriving in the window.

That sweet vanilla scent I always catch on her at the coffee shop saturates the air, mingled with something I want to revel in.

I’ve seen her behind a counter. I’ve heard her laugh while juggling a dozen orders. But this...this is her private space, and I’m damn lucky she agreed to invite me here.

And fuck, I want all of it.

“Sorry about the mess,” she says, sweeping a pile of papers from the kitchen table.

“It’s not messy.” I set my laptop bag down, dragging my eyes away from the sway of her hips. “It’s lived in. That’s better.”

She gives me a look, soft and suspicious at once. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

“It’s the truth.”

I unclip my bag and pull out my machine, keeping my hands busy so I don’t do something reckless—like reach for her.

She sits across from me, so close our knees almost brush. I can feel her attention fixed on me, heavier than any spotlight.

“So what exactly are we trying to find?” I ask, powering up her old laptop.

“Three weeks of inventory tracking. My balance sheet from the last year, plus financial projections for the next eighteen months.” She leans forward on her elbows, sweater shifting low enough to expose the delicate hollow at the base of her throat.

“Basically, everything I need to prove I’m not about to crash and burn. ”

I focus on the screen, not the soft skin I’m dying to taste. “That should be recoverable. Power surges wipe tables, but the data isn’t truly gone.”

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“I am.” My fingers move over the keys as I navigate through menus. “I’ve been doing this since I was twelve. First recovery was for my mom—she thought she lost her novel draft. Turns out I had a knack for figuring out computers and software.”

Her lips twitch. “A knack?”

“Pattern recognition. Logic trees. Computers make sense when people don’t.” I glance at her before I can stop myself. “The military liked that about me.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “You? Military?”

“Yeah.”

The first notification chimes. Recovered files. My pulse steadies, even as heat burns under my skin from her scrutiny.

I suddenly remember her commenting about Izzy and how a celebrity endorsement could help her business. I make a mental note to talk to Jake to see if Izzy would be up for that.

“There,” I say, looking into her captivating eyes. “Your spreadsheets. Is that everything?”

She stands and leans over my shoulder, her heavy breast brushing against my arm. My cock jerks like she’s touched it directly.

“Owen.” Her voice is low, awed. “You’re incredible. How did you do that so fast?”

“Trade secret,” I tease, smiling at her. “Thank you. This isn’t difficult when you have the right software.”

Her hand lands on my shoulder, warm and steady. Her thumb rubs a slow circle through the fabric, and I freeze. I want to lean back into her, give myself over to everything I’m feeling, and seduce this incredible, driven woman.

But I can’t. I know damn well I can’t give in to my feelings.

“Give me a couple of minutes, and I’ll set up an automatic cloud backup. Even if you don’t save your changes regularly, the software will do that for you,” I explain, because if I don’t focus on work, I’m going to haul her onto my lap and taste her mouth.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” The words scrape out harsher than I intended. “I want to make sure you’re protected.”

Her voice dips, teasing. “Protected from what?”

From everything. From stress, from failure, from predatory men like Zane, who would and could never appreciate a woman as singular and captivating as Vivian. From anything that would disrupt her business.

“From losing what matters to you.”

Her eyes stay on me for a long moment. “And what makes you think you know what matters to me?”

“Lucky guess,” I say. “The coffee shop matters to you, so it matters to me.” And because you matter to me in ways that are making it dangerous as fuck to be here with you.

“I’ll make dinner,” she declares, vanishing into the kitchen.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I call after her.

Her laugh floats back. “Nonsense. It’s the least I can do as a thank you. I want to cook for you.”

I follow her with my eyes, helpless to say no to her. She reaches into a cabinet, stretching high, sweater lifting to reveal a sliver of bare waist.

I grip the edge of the table. If I don’t, I’ll cross the room, press my mouth to that strip of skin, and never stop.

She pulls out pasta and rummages through the fridge. “So what do you do when you’re not rescuing women from catastrophic hard drive failures?”

“Work.”

She glances at me over her shoulder, her smile playful. “That’s not an answer. Hobbies? Friends? A secret girlfriend?”

I look at her, understanding she’s fishing for information. I have nothing to hide from her. “No girlfriend.”

“That’s exactly what a woman likes to hear,” she says.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say her sigh is one of relief.

Oh, Vivian, if only you knew what you’re doing to me…

Or maybe she does.

A battle wars between my head and my heart. She makes me want to break my rule about not getting involved with a woman. Could it be different with her? Possibly. But exploring that could leave her hurt, and I can’t bear the thought of hurting Vivian.

But God help me, if she keeps flirting, I won’t be responsible for what I’ll do.

Dinner turns into a small disaster—smoke filling the kitchen, her swearing under her breath, me laughing harder than I have in months. She gives up, orders Thai, and twenty minutes later, we’re on her couch, containers scattered across the coffee table.

Vivian tucks her legs beneath her, knee brushing mine more times than could be considered a coincidence.

“So much for impressing you with my cooking,” she laughs.

“I’m impressed you tried.”

“Liar.” She grins, leaning closer. “Next time, I’ll order pizza before you arrive.”

Next time . The casual assumption gives me an exhilarating thrill I haven’t felt with a woman before. I want this. I want her. Even though I know all the reasons I should walk away and protect her.

I set my food down. “You’re not a damsel in distress, Vivian. You’re running a business, doing everything on your own. I’m already impressed by you.”

Her lips part, surprised, then soften into something that makes my chest ache. “When was the last time you did something just because you wanted to? Not because it was safe, or smart. Just because it felt good?”

“I don’t know,” I admit.

She leans in, voice low. “Maybe we can change that.”

My heart pounds. My cock aches. I should leave. I should protect her from me, from this. But when she threads her fingers through mine, every last wall I’ve built starts to crack.

“I should probably go,” I rasp.

“Probably,” she echoes, not moving away. Her thumb strokes my palm. “But do you want to?”

No. I want to drag her under me right here on this couch. I want to bury myself inside her until the only word on her lips is my name.

“No,” I say.

“Then stay and let’s watch a movie.”

“Sure,” I manage.

She grabs the remote, stretching across me. Her breast brushes my chest, and I nearly lose control. I stifle a groan. Staying for a movie is a monumentally bad idea. But fuck if I’m going to cut tonight short. My soul aches for her, and I’m going to enjoy this as long as I can.

She smiles, victorious, and settles next to me on the couch.

And I realize— fuck —I’m already at my breaking point. One more laugh, one more brush of her hand, and I won’t stop.

This is fucking dangerous.