like that.”
He barked a laugh, allowing amusement to get the better of him. “Honey, I am one hundred and fifty percent not with the CIA or an ex-special operative from any division.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.” She sounded somewhat mollified, however.
He checked his mirrors after glimpsing a hint of color on her cheeks. She would have been a pleasure to seduce under different circumstances. “But do you trust me?”
Silence descended in the car. Finally, after a contemplative moment, she said, “Actually—yes. Yes, I do.”
Cole didn’t expect the flush of guilt and regret he experienced at her confession.
It’s all part of the job. Get over it.
By the time they reached Victorville, Madalina had sufficiently recovered from the resonant, sexy “ honey ” Cole had so casually thrown into the conversation. The distraction of hearing the endearment—one he probably used on many women—helped her get past the panic at his Bond moves in the car. It wasn’t often Madalina found herself in awe of anyone—but Cole was an exception. The brake-and-slide move had impressed the hell out of her. Scared her half to death, but impressed her nevertheless. She’d spent the ensuing ride in companionable silence, thinking about everything that had happened in Vegas, and since. Cole had proven to be trustworthy, dependable, and excellent at keeping her out of the hands of her assailants. Men who were willing to kidnap her, force them off the road, and who knew what else. She tried to hide her distress over the situation from Cole, but the closer they got to Los Angeles, the more nervous she became.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said into the silence.
“It’s a buck-fifty. Inflation,” she retorted in a quiet voice. She heard him draw in a breath, as if he might laugh. He didn’t—more the pity. Cole West had an alluring, appealing laugh. Full throated, slightly raspy, like his speaking voice.
“All right. A buck-fifty.”
“I was wondering what I’m going to do when I get home.” What I’m going to do without you to consult in emergencies. All of a sudden, she had a brilliant idea. “Wait. How much do you charge for your services?”
Cole rubbed the side of his chin with two fingers. He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “You know, I mentioned that you don’t have to pay me for driving you back to LA. I offered—”
“No, not for this. But for tomorrow, and the next day. Until I can figure out what to do. How much do you charge for bodyguard services?” Madalina thought she had found a way to keep him with her under better circumstances than begging and pleading. She really didn’t have the money for this, but she also didn’t want to be kidnapped. Or worse.
“Seven hundred dollars a day, base price.”
Madalina wheezed. “ What? ”
He smiled, and Madalina realized that it was the first time she’d seen him smile like that. Broad, devilish, yet a touch boyish, too.
“You didn’t think risking my life for strangers came cheap, did you?”
“But . . . oh.” Madalina simply couldn’t afford it. She might have been able to swing two-fifty or three, for a few days only, but not seven hundred per day. “I suppose not. I guess I don’t get out enough or something. So seven hundred is the base price—you mean it fluctuates up from there?”
“Yes. Depending on how far I have to travel, how dangerous the assignment is, and how high profile the client.”
“My goodness.”
“It can be a demanding job.”
“So can dealing with uppity, high-maintenance women who expect three-thousand-dollar dresses for fifty bucks.” Sometimes owning a clothing boutique that catered to the upper middle class could be downright frustrating.
“It’s funny. When I first ran into you in the Luxor, I thought you were uppity and high maintenance.”
Gasping, Madalina glanced across the car. “What? I am anything but uppity and high maintenance.”
“The jury is still out on
He barked a laugh, allowing amusement to get the better of him. “Honey, I am one hundred and fifty percent not with the CIA or an ex-special operative from any division.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.” She sounded somewhat mollified, however.
He checked his mirrors after glimpsing a hint of color on her cheeks. She would have been a pleasure to seduce under different circumstances. “But do you trust me?”
Silence descended in the car. Finally, after a contemplative moment, she said, “Actually—yes. Yes, I do.”
Cole didn’t expect the flush of guilt and regret he experienced at her confession.
It’s all part of the job. Get over it.
By the time they reached Victorville, Madalina had sufficiently recovered from the resonant, sexy “ honey ” Cole had so casually thrown into the conversation. The distraction of hearing the endearment—one he probably used on many women—helped her get past the panic at his Bond moves in the car. It wasn’t often Madalina found herself in awe of anyone—but Cole was an exception. The brake-and-slide move had impressed the hell out of her. Scared her half to death, but impressed her nevertheless. She’d spent the ensuing ride in companionable silence, thinking about everything that had happened in Vegas, and since. Cole had proven to be trustworthy, dependable, and excellent at keeping her out of the hands of her assailants. Men who were willing to kidnap her, force them off the road, and who knew what else. She tried to hide her distress over the situation from Cole, but the closer they got to Los Angeles, the more nervous she became.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said into the silence.
“It’s a buck-fifty. Inflation,” she retorted in a quiet voice. She heard him draw in a breath, as if he might laugh. He didn’t—more the pity. Cole West had an alluring, appealing laugh. Full throated, slightly raspy, like his speaking voice.
“All right. A buck-fifty.”
“I was wondering what I’m going to do when I get home.” What I’m going to do without you to consult in emergencies. All of a sudden, she had a brilliant idea. “Wait. How much do you charge for your services?”
Cole rubbed the side of his chin with two fingers. He didn’t take his eyes off the road. “You know, I mentioned that you don’t have to pay me for driving you back to LA. I offered—”
“No, not for this. But for tomorrow, and the next day. Until I can figure out what to do. How much do you charge for bodyguard services?” Madalina thought she had found a way to keep him with her under better circumstances than begging and pleading. She really didn’t have the money for this, but she also didn’t want to be kidnapped. Or worse.
“Seven hundred dollars a day, base price.”
Madalina wheezed. “ What? ”
He smiled, and Madalina realized that it was the first time she’d seen him smile like that. Broad, devilish, yet a touch boyish, too.
“You didn’t think risking my life for strangers came cheap, did you?”
“But . . . oh.” Madalina simply couldn’t afford it. She might have been able to swing two-fifty or three, for a few days only, but not seven hundred per day. “I suppose not. I guess I don’t get out enough or something. So seven hundred is the base price—you mean it fluctuates up from there?”
“Yes. Depending on how far I have to travel, how dangerous the assignment is, and how high profile the client.”
“My goodness.”
“It can be a demanding job.”
“So can dealing with uppity, high-maintenance women who expect three-thousand-dollar dresses for fifty bucks.” Sometimes owning a clothing boutique that catered to the upper middle class could be downright frustrating.
“It’s funny. When I first ran into you in the Luxor, I thought you were uppity and high maintenance.”
Gasping, Madalina glanced across the car. “What? I am anything but uppity and high maintenance.”
“The jury is still out on
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