DONOVAN (Gray Wolf Security, #1)(6)

He was tall, his shoulders as wide as his hips were narrow. He was wearing a pair of slacks that hugged thighs that were at least as wide as a tree trunk, and an oxford shirt that was untucked and open at the collar, exposing tan skin that was not terribly uncommon in this part of the country, but still a lovely contrast to the starched whiteness of that shirt. His hair was dark and cut short—not quite a crew cut but cut fairly close. And he had the most intense green eyes I thought I’d ever seen.

“Please tell me you’re my bodyguard.”

He smiled and a subtle dimple appeared in one cheek.

Hell, if I could swoon…

“I’m Ashford Grayson. I own Gray Wolf Security.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, waving for him to come a little closer. “If bodyguards all look like you, then it might be worth it to get in trouble.”

Again that smile. But he didn’t come closer. He stood by the door, his eyes moving around the room in a slow, almost subtle, way that I almost missed. It took me a second to realize he was looking for any danger and identifying all the entrances and exits. I’d dated a Marine once who’d spent time over in Afghanistan. He did the same thing every time we entered a new building. However, I supposed the habit was actually useful to this guy, considering his line of work.

“I just wanted to speak to you for a few minutes about the service my company provides.”

“Okay,” I said, adjusting my body on the bed so that I could watch him a little more comfortably. I loved his voice, this deep, chocolatey tone that vibrated through my body. Only one other guy’s voice had ever done that to me, and he was long gone. One of those good riddance sort of things. But this guy…I wouldn’t mind spending a little time alone with him.

“My operative will have to spend twenty-four seven with you until this case is resolved and we have confirmation that the threat has been neutralized. Therefore, when they release you from the hospital today, he will drive you home and remain at your home.”

“Like move into my spare bedroom?”

“Yes.”

He watched me as he said that single word, waiting for me to object, I think. But I couldn’t think of a good reason to object if his operative looked anything like him.

“We currently have a team at your house installing surveillance equipment so that we can keep tabs on the house and the area around it.”

“Like cameras?”

“Yes. But rest assured that none will be placed in sensitive areas.”

“Such as my bedroom and bathroom?”

“Such as your bathroom.”

I sat up a little straighter, ignoring the pain in my skull. “You’re putting cameras in my bedroom? Where am I supposed to dress? Where am I supposed to go for some alone time?”

“You’ll have to dress in the bathroom. And your ‘alone time’ will have to wait until this is resolved, which will, hopefully, be in a few days.”

I shook my head. “It’s my house.”

“Yes, ma’am. But it’s very likely you witnessed a man being murdered last night. And the perpetrator will more than likely not be aware that you’ve lost all memory of the event.” He looked me full in the eye, an intense stare that frightened me despite my determination not to let any of this scare me. “It is very probable that he will not want you to identify him to police.”

“So that means you get to invade my house and watch my every move?”

“We’ll be watching for intruders, Miss Thompson. The rest of the footage will be disregarded and destroyed when the case is over.”

I didn’t like that idea. Didn’t like any of it. It was an invasion of my privacy. And privacy was what I liked most about owning my own house.

He waited, watching the emotion rush over my face. There was something about his gaze that left me feeling invaded already. As though he could see right through me to what I was thinking. It was a little unnerving.

I waved at him, encouraging him to continue.

“Our operative, and occasionally other members of our team, will accompany you to work each day, to any meetings you must attend, and any social gatherings you cannot get out of. However, while we are protecting you, it would make the process simpler if you could restrict your comings and goings to home and work.”

“I have to give up my social life for this?”

“It would be easier to protect you that way, yes.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

He seemed shocked, like no one had ever said no to him before. Well, he was about to get a shock, wasn’t he?

“I won’t cancel my plans just because my dad hired a bunch of ex-military goons to follow me around.”

“Miss Thompson—”

“My name is Kate. If you’re going to be watching my every movement over the next few days, we should be on a first name basis.” Again something danced in his eyes that suggested he was a man who was used to getting his way. “Your name is Ashford?”

He hesitated, but then he inclined his head. “Ash.”

“Ash?” I let my eyes move down the length of him. I think he actually blushed as my eyes lingered here and there—those guns were definitely impressive!—especially when I went back for a second look. “Well, Ash,” I said, dragging out the single syllable of his name, “there is a party on Friday night to celebrate my bank manager’s retirement. I helped set everything up, so I’m not missing it, even for this.”