Guarded heart

ract sculptures, and a receptionist who could've doubled as a model. At 5'6", Eleanor's brunette hair was scraped into a severe bun, her hourglass figure sharp in a tailored black blazer and

nce ops in hostile zones-had wired her to see threats everywhere.

d cost her squad a friend and her left shoulder a bullet. The physical wound healed; the guilt didn't. She'd left the military six months ago, craving purpose. This job-protecting a billionaire CEO

r smile wilting under Eleanor'

Holt," she said, voice clipped,

all business. "Mr. Holt's new assistan

eld. "Not an assistant. Security." She didn't wait for a response, striding to the elevator with the same

xander Holt. Tech billionaire, self-made, and, per the dossier, a control freak. She pictured a soft exec with a receding hairline, coasting on inherited wealth. H

. Alexander Holt was no soft exec. He was 6 feet of lean muscle, his dark suit cut to showcase broad shoulders and a tapered waist. His b

nt curling around the words. He checked his watch

forward, arms crossed, aware of how the stance highlighted her figure. His gaze flicked down,

usement, maybe. "I assume you're the new assistant. Cof

he belonged behind a desk, not a rifle. "I'm not your assistant," she said, closing the distance, boots echoing. "Eleanor Kane, secur

He straightened, his height edging into her space without crowding. "My apologies, Ms. K

as ice, but his scent-clean, expensive, with a hint of sandalwood-stirred something she didn't want t

d, leaning against his des

d. "I read the brief. Someone's sabotaging your c

g Holt Enterprises. Tech stolen, deals collapsing, and... personal t

ing to satphone warnings of ambushes,

e letters, promises of

," she shot back, unable to resist. His bro

o thinks like the enemy. Your record-Kandahar, counterintel

ing of Kandahar's memory. "

pping, a velvet edge that sent a shiver

it. "Fine," she said, breaking the stare. "Security systems, employe

abysitting in a

mile teasing. "Wear somethin

owed. "I don'

eeping her curves, lingering before m

ding the heat in her core. "Keep your assumptions to your

d flushed cheeks, and she cursed. Alexander Holt was trouble-rich, gorgeous, a

w close this job would pull them-and if