Page 116 of Nanny for the SEALs

“Oh, I intend to.” He kissed me back, longer this time while sliding under the covers with me.

“I thought you said it was important to get a good night’s sleep,” I murmured into his lips.

“I intend to. Right after I help distract you from your worries.”

He laid me down on the bed with his kisses, a hand sliding into the waistband of my pajamas. His touches were soft and caring as he undressed me, massaged me between the legs, and then removed his own clothes.

We sighed together as he sank into me, fulfilling the ache I had felt for him. His lips never left mine, a never-ending kiss of tenderness and love. Brady barely moved inside of me, the tiniest little pushes back and forth while we made out. I surged upward with need, pressing myself against Brady’s chiseled body, savoring the warmth that moved from him to me.

While I was in his arms, I felt safe. I felt like nothing could hurt me.

But, like many thoughts that happened in the throes of lovemaking, I was wrong.

45

Heather

“I can’t thank you enough for the help,” I told Maurice the next day. “Patty couldn’t watch the kids, and you did such a good job last time…”

“Anything for you,” he replied, strangely selfless. Maybe he understood the gravity of the situation.

But then he ruined it by adding, “Of course, the paycheck your SEAL boy-toys are giving me is why I’mreallyhere.”

“And it has nothing to do with the fact that Brady wants to set you up with his SEAL friend?” I shot back.

Maurice strategically looked away. “Of course not.”

My three SEALs and I piled into two SUVs to head over to downtown LA, where the movie was being filmed. Traffic was a bitch, and it took us almost two hours to drive ten miles. Apparently the road closures for the film were causing a lot of traffic to be rerouted.

We reached one of the blockades and flashed our credentials to the police officer, who removed the barrier and waved us through.

“Look at all those fans,” Brady said as we drove on. “They’re packed four and five deep.”

They were indeed crammed around the blockade, waving signs and cheering like Beatles fans who were anxious to get a glimpse of Paul. I saw one woman holding a headshot of Amirah Pratt and waving a pen. The windows of the vehicle were tinted, so they couldn’t see me. I wondered what they would do if I rolled down the window and waved.

Brady followed Rogan’s vehicle, which wound through the film set until we reached the trailers belonging to the actors. Brady got out of the SUV, went around the side, and then opened the door for me.

“Looks clear. But keep your head down.”

The illusion of pretending to be Amirah would be ruined if Cardannon’s goons sawtwoAmirahs enter her trailer, of course. I held my wide-brimmed hat on my head and hurried up the steps into the trailer.

I was immediately face-to-face with the real Amirah Pratt.

“Oh, hi!” she said with a bashful smile. “Wow. You really do look like me, huh?”

Next to her was Cooper, her HLS Security bodyguard, along with another familiar face: Jonah Weiman, the head of The Weiman Agency. In contrast to Amirah’s friendliness, he squinted at me suspiciously.

“I know you. You’re the hooligan who broke into the Lakers suite.”

“Mr. Weiman,” Rogan said. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“My star client is in danger, and I intend to watch this spectacle in person.” He pointed at me. “Why did you chooseher?”

“Who better to pose as Miss Pratt than the woman who has done it before?” Rogan told him. “Trust me, Heather Hart is an expert. I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this task.”

Johan Weiman pursed his lips unhappily, but I smiled inwardly at Rogan’s praise.

Amirah took my hands in hers. “I’mreallygrateful for what you’re doing. Risking yourself to find the people responsible for all these awful threats… I can’t imagine doing it. You’reso brave.”

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