Bear to the Rescue(Bear Claw Security Book 3)By: Terry Bolryder
She stood, brushing back her hair and straightening her clothes, then pulling on her jacket. She let out a deep breath and looked into his eyes, making him catch his breath.
“I guess I should say thank you,” she said.
“I guess so.”
“Thanks.” Then she jabbed a finger his direction. “But remember your promise. No funny business.”
He laughed and put up both hands. “I promise.”
“All right,” she said. “I’ll be in my office.”
“Herc will be watching the front desk,” he said. “No one will be able to come in. I’ll check the security footage, too, just to see if we can find anything.”
“Great,” she said. “I guess I’ll see you later, then?”
He hated the way she looked slightly undone by the whole situation. As soon as they got to her place, he’d get to work trying to make her more comfortable. Even if she tried to provoke him, he wouldn’t fall for the bait.
Just have to think of her as a normal client, he told himself as she gave him a wave and walked out of the conference room.
Too bad that was nearly impossible.
She’d been under his skin from the moment he’d seen her.
Regan waited nervously for Bronson to come get her. She couldn’t even blame anyone but herself for how things were turning out.
She’d come to Bear Claw Security to get a little bit of protection and now she was going to get it.
Six feet six inches of it.
Her cheeks burned at the thought of being in close quarters with blond, attractive Bronson.
It was hard enough teasing and being sarcastic to hide her strong attraction to him so she didn’t risk going against everything she believed in.
Or didn’t believe in, which was love in this case.
Maybe human men could love properly. But bears like Bronson only seemed able to use their extreme sexual viability to trick women into the sack and into trusting them. It was probably natural or some shit like that.
Sure enough, he showed up not even an hour later. She sighed as she logged out of her systems and looked up at him warily, waiting for some teasing comment.
But he was calm, businesslike. He had his gray suit jacket over one arm and was lightly rolling up the cuffs of his white shirtsleeves as they walked out front, waving to Hercules as they went.
Apparently, he’d taken his promise to be all business as seriously as he’d said he would.
For the first time, she felt maybe she could trust him.
What she didn’t trust was herself. Her traitorous body was reacting to his male strength, to the fresh, expensive, clean-smelling cologne he wore.
Everything about him attracted her, but she wasn’t going to give in.
“So you live around here or in the city?” Bronson asked.
“Just like ten minutes north of here,” she replied, giving him the address. “I prefer upstate. It’s quieter. But what about you? Wouldn’t you get more business if you were located in the city?”
“We’re only about half an hour out,” he said, holding the doors to the elevator and pressing the button to go down. “But I like it out here. I hate crowds. Hate the pressure of the big city.”
“I hear that,” she said.
He was being polite, distant even, and it was only making him more attractive. He was just the type of guy women would try to bring home for their daughters. Clean cut, wealthy, hardworking. At least at the outset.
He sent her an appraising look, and once again, she marveled at how handsome he was. How perfect and aristocratic his features were despite the brute strength and size of his body. His pointed nose wrinkled. “What are you looking at? Do I have something on my face?”
“No,” she said, looking ahead just as they reached the basement and the doors opened. “Nothing. Just zoning out. Long day.”
“Yeah,” he said, holding the doors open again, the consummate gentleman. She guessed this was how he acted with most people who weren’t teasing him and ruffling his feathers. Classy, polite.
Boring. Where was the fun in it?
Well, part of it was watching his taut butt in front of her as they walked into the parking garage, his tall body alert and aware as he made sure it was safe before gesturing for her to follow.
“You usually head out earlier than this,” he said.
“I like working on programming in the evenings,” she said. “I just take jobs like this so I can afford my fancy equipment.”
She flashed him a grin, and he returned it mildly. She sighed, wondering if she was relieved he was acting so comfortable or if she just wanted to figure out a way to pull him out of his shell again, see the sexually virile, teasing, aggressive, and easily irritated Bronson she often saw.
They walked toward a dark car parked next to the door, a Dodge Charger. A powerful but efficient choice. Sporty but also low key. He opened the door for her, and she slid inside onto the buttery seat.
“Nice,” she said, looking around.
“Thanks. It does the job,” he returned politely, buckling up and waiting for her to do the same.
“So I’m sorry I went poking my nose around in your business,” she said as he started the car and the engine purred.