The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy(13)

Jude’s eyes shifted to meet mine. “Problem?”

“No, he was just leaving.”

Bobby glanced back at me. “Who’s this guy?”

“Jude,” I said, dropping my phone in my purse. “My bodyguard.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that—I hadn’t agreed to hire him for more than a security assessment—but seeing Bobby’s perpetually tanned face go pale made it worth it.

“Cool,” Bobby said, his voice weak. “I guess you have that meeting, so I’ll let you get to it.”

Jude moved aside, but not quite enough for Bobby to get past him. I tried to keep the amused smile off my face while Bobby shifted from one foot to the other, trying to figure out how to get through the door with Jude in his way. Finally, Jude side-stepped, giving Bobby just enough room to squeeze by.

“Who was that?”

I set my purse down, since I didn’t really have a meeting. “Robert Spencer, aka Bobby the douchebag. He’s the founder’s son and a regularly occurring pain in my ass.”

Jude’s eyes narrowed slightly and he glanced back at the door. I thought maybe he’d comment on Bobby, but he didn’t say anything.

“So, are you finished with the assessment?” I asked.

“No,” he said, settling into a chair.

“I don’t need you to make it formal. You can just email me your recommendations.”

“I need to see your house first.”

I leaned back in my chair. “I have adequate security at home.”

“We’ll see.”

“I live in a gated community with twenty-four/seven security personnel, and my house is outfitted with a state-of-the-art alarm system. I don’t need additional security.”

“I don’t think it was random,” he said.

His square jaw with its careless bit of stubble was stupidly distracting. He was so hard and angular. Almost military. But there was a sophistication inherent in the way he moved that was a surprising contrast to his size. He wore a cuffed-sleeve button-down like a high-powered CEO but looked like he could lift the back end of a car without breaking a sweat. I had a feeling people often underestimated him.

I knew what that was like.

“What wasn’t random?” I asked, mentally kicking myself for getting lost in that rugged face.

“The attempted mugging.”

Points to him for calling it attempted. I wanted some damn credit for not getting robbed. “Of course it was random. It was dark and I was alone. Some guy tried to take my purse.”

“Did he?”

“What do you mean?”

“I watched the security footage. The guy didn’t try to grab your purse. He tried to grab you.”

I crossed my arms. The entire incident had happened so fast. Had he been trying to grab me? I’d been holding my Chanel handbag tucked beneath my arm, so I’d assumed that was what he’d been after.

“What are you saying?”

“That it’s possible you were targeted, and the objective wasn’t your purse.”

A sense of unease spread through my stomach, like a dribble of paint in clear water. “Well, if he was trying to kidnap me, he was terrible at it. All I had to do was stomp on his foot.”

“That was a good move.”

My lips turned up in a half-smile. “Thanks.”

“Look, I can’t give you a definitive answer as to what that guy was after. Maybe it was a random incident. But my instincts are telling me it wasn’t. And it’s rare that my instincts are wrong.”

I believed him—about his instincts, at least. My brain was railing against the idea that I’d been targeted in a kidnapping attempt.

And I wondered what his instincts were telling him about me.

“Fine. You can come home with me. But don’t expect me to put out unless you buy me dinner first.”

His jaw hitched, an almost imperceptible tic. Nothing about his expression changed, and I wondered if I’d imagined it.

But the thought that I’d just ruffled this solid wall of man was oddly amusing. I kind of wanted to see if I could do it again.

I still didn’t need a bodyguard, though. And once I had his security assessment, I’d smugly report back to Emily that she’d wasted her time. I’d hire a few more people here at headquarters if necessary. Maybe beef up security in the enclave. And let Jude get on with his retirement.





6





Jude





I’d left the bike at home today, so I followed Cameron in my SUV. Interesting that she drove a Tesla. She could probably afford just about any vehicle she wanted. Of course, it had to have set her back at least a hundred grand, so it wasn’t like the CEO of Spencer Aeronautics was tooling around in a practical sedan. I wondered if it was the engineer in her. She liked the tech.

We turned into the Bluewater enclave and stopped at the gate. I could see her speaking to the guard, then he waved me through after her. We drove down a street lined with palm trees, surrounded by lush landscaping.

I knew from my brief research on Cameron that she and three friends had developed Bluewater. They’d created a waterfront community with sprawling mansions, luxury condominiums, a private airfield, marina, and a village with high-end boutiques and restaurants. It was very exclusive—Cameron and her friends managed it personally—and it had a reputation for being home to the particularly quirky among Miami’s elite.