Ramsey Security (Ramsey Security #1-3)(88)

I skip the bag check and walk outside to where Troy is working. He glances at me, says nothing, and returns to work.

Thinking about Saskia, I imagine writing songs dedicated to her beauty and strength. I might even write a few about a demon woman ensnaring her victims with her hypnotic dark eyes. My studio is calling to me, but I refuse to hide away for the rest of the day. Instead, I keep watch like a man rather than playing in my hiding place like a child.

Saskia appears outside. Startled to see me, she considers turning around. Saskia jerks to a stop before standing unsure for a long time. Watching her struggle between cold and hot, I nearly laugh at her indecision.

"Want orange juice?" I ask when she stares at me, seemingly unable to speak.

"No."

"You look beautiful this morning."

"Thank you. We need to talk."

"About what?" I ask, reaching out to caress her cheek.

"I enjoyed last night."

"I know you did," I say, giving her a grin.

Saskia narrows her eyes, hoping to intimidate me. When my smile doesn't relent, her glare does.

"I'm on an assignment, though. I need to focus on keeping your family safe during the trip, so I'm asking for space."

"Because I distract you."

"Yes."

I step closer and smile wider. "Because last night was f*cking brilliant."

Saskia narrows her eyes again. "Yes."

"So you're asking me to keep my hands to myself until we get back from New York City, correct?"

"Yes."

"Once we're back, my hands are free to roam again?"

"We'll see. I might lose interest in you."

Grinning, I shove my hands into my jean pockets. "Won't happen. Not after one night. Maybe after a few long, productive nights, you might begin to lose interest. Doubtful, though."

"I'm done talking to you now."

"Okay, but I'm keeping your panties. I might even frame them."

A frustrated Saskia turns away until I wrap my arms around her from behind.

"You seem tense. I might be able to help with that," I whisper in her ear. "You know when we return."

"You're being obnoxious."

"Hasn't a man ever spent the night with you and never wanted to let go?"

Saskia doesn't react, giving me her answer. I release her, and she continues walking inside the house. Before I finish my orange juice, she storms back outside.

"You are not special."

"You are."

Saskia blinks quickly, flustered by how her anger doesn't phase me. I know all about womanly freak-outs. Two very hormonal women raised me. Nothing Saskia says or does will likely shock me.

"I can't deal with whatever it is that you want from me," she says, regaining her steely glare.

"How can you know your limitations, if you don't know what I want?"

"Fine. What do you want?"

"To hang out with you. I'd like to talk during the day and roll around in bed at night. Does that sound so bad?"

"No but I'm on a job, so leave me alone."

Saskia walks away quickly before I can follow. I guess I could run after her, but she's likely expecting that move. Even if I'm not a tough guy like Troy, I'm smart enough to figure out Saskia. She can have her space, and play her games. I know what's in her heart, though, and it's not much different than what stirs in mine. Once I catch her, I don't know if I'll ever let her go.





14


Brad

Don't Tell Me What to Do

Lawrence began treating me after Mom, and I left show business behind and returned to Texas. I was a mess back then. Waking up scared of my own shadow, I'd end the day angry at the world. Mom's babying pissed me off. When she gave me space, I felt abandoned.

These days, Lawrence and I work on my agoraphobia. I'd rather stay close to home than branch out. He thinks I need to see more of the world. I think my home offers everything I need. I'm doubtful that another decade of therapy will change either of our minds.

Lawrence arrives for our session while I'm outside shooting hoops. Inside the house, Saskia works on the final plans for our trip to the airport. I think of her under me. Her dark eyes tear away my walls, revealing my every secret. I need to know all of hers too.

"A lot of activity in the house," Lawrence says, taking a shot.

His hair turned a stark gray when he was thirty-five, making him look older and wiser than his age. I'm his last patient of the day, so he's wearing jeans and a University of Houston tee.

"Mom's worried about the trip."

"Do you think she's right?"

"Maybe."

"But you're going anyway."

"I made the decision to do the book. Can't back down now."

"Actually you could. The renewed threats give you a strong case for staying here. Why push yourself?"

"Why not?" I say, missing my shot

"Don't play games, Brad. I know you. You were looking for a reason to back out of this trip since Marx first suggested it. Now you're perfectly cool with flying into an unknown."

I bounce the ball and give him a smile. "I'll tell you, but you can't pull the shrink bullshit on me. I'm feeling good. If you ruin that, I won't like you so much anymore."