Taking Control (Babysitting a Billionaire #3)

He studied the man briefly. He was big, but from the fluid way he moved, Declan reckoned the bulk was all muscle. He looked ex-army, his sandy hair cut military short.

“Mr. McCabe,” he said, coming to a halt in front of the desk and extending his hand. Declan took it then winced as pain shot through his arm.

“Sorry,” Grantham said. “I hear you took a bullet yesterday, must be painful.”

“A scratch, nothing more.”

The man sat and Declan turned his attention back to Jess. She still stood just inside the doorway. As she caught his glance, she shook herself and took a few steps forward. Unlike her male comrade though, she didn’t hold her hand out for him to take, just sat in the seat and stared straight ahead. Her skin was pale, almost white, and a pulse beat in her throat. Definitely not as composed as she appeared, or wanted to appear.

Good.

He took his own seat, sat back, and pulled his shattered thoughts together. He’d planned to tell them they were not needed, and this changed nothing. They still weren’t needed. He had no use for a bodyguard, and he certainly had no wish for Jess to jump in front of a bullet for him. Anyway, she’d probably be more likely to shoot him herself.

“I’m afraid your journey has been wasted. I won’t be needing your services. I will of course pay for your time.” He watched her closely as he spoke, not quite sure what response he expected or even wanted. Maybe it was better that she had forgotten him. If she had.

Of course, there was always the chance that she was just acting. Maybe she recognized him—how the fuck could she not?—but she wanted to avoid rehashing old times.

The man beside her frowned. “Has the…situation been resolved? I was under the impression we were needed until the court case.”

“No, but I don’t require a bodyguard,” Declan said. “I’ll take precautions. I can look after myself.”

Jess snorted. He turned his attention to her as she raised one arched brow. “Well, you’re certainly doing a good job so far. And could you not have phoned up and canceled the meeting, Mr. McCabe?” Her tone was cool, bordering on insolent. “As a professional courtesy. Or don’t you think the people you employ deserve courtesy?”

“I promised my father I would see you, and I have.”

For the first time, shock flashed across her features, her eyes narrowing, a frown forming between her brows. She was astonishingly beautiful, he’d forgotten just how stunning she was—well not so much forgotten as pushed the knowledge from his mind. Now his brain flooded with memories of her, dancing, her hair wild about her face, drinking shots, daring him to match her, lying beneath him, her eyes almost black with passion as she fell apart for him. Shit. He needed to stop thinking like this. He needed to get his head together.

But however much he would like to deny it, a deep, slow burn of excitement was starting low down in his belly. He wanted to push her, make her acknowledge him, but maybe not just yet. First, he needed to pull himself together. Whatever happened next, he planned to be in control of it.

“Your father arranged this?” Jess said, and he could hear the disbelief in her voice and something else.

He gave a bland smile. “He worries about me. He has my best interests at heart.”

“I bet he does,” she muttered, and this time her comrade did turn to look at her.

“Do we have a problem here, Jess?”

Declan shot a glance at the other man. He didn’t like the familiar way he addressed Jessica. They obviously knew each other well. How well?

“Of course we don’t have a problem,” Jess said. Her tone should have been conciliatory instead, it was…sarcastic. “Mr. McCabe is the one with the problem,” she continued. “Someone wants him dead, but I’m sure that’s not a first. Probably lots of people have wanted Mr. McCabe dead. But as he said, he’s a big boy, and he can look after himself. And if not, I’m sure his daddy can do it for him.”

God, she was a bitch. He liked it.

Her colleague obviously gave up at that point. He relaxed back in his seat arms folded across his chest and watched them.

“Tell me, Mr. Grantham, what’s your background?” Declan waved a hand toward Jess to include her in the question. How the hell had she become involved in security work? He would have thought it was the last type of career she would pursue. Really, he couldn’t imagine her settling down to any job—she’d been too wild. But she must be good, otherwise why would his father have employed the company—he only employed the best. He couldn’t have known Jess worked for them. No way would his father throw them together again, when he’d gone to such lengths to push them apart.

“I’m ex-army,” Grantham said. “We both are.”

Army?