Page 10 of Nanny for the SEALs

“That was before I met the hunks of HLS Security. I am not afraid of getting caught because I am too busy picking my favorite.” He turned and squinted out at the seats. “Right now that tasty blond boy is leading. He’s like a sexy librarian.”

I snatched the plate out of his hand. “You came in with me. If I get caught, you’re caught too.” I pointed at the door to the suite. “We need toleavebefore Jonah Weiman walks through that…”

I trailed off. The door to the suite swung open at precisely that moment, becauseof courseit did. I winced and steeled myself, expecting to see the man that could—and would—reveal our deception.

I relaxed when I realized it wasn’t Jonah Weiman. It wasn’t a man at all, in fact. It was a tall, slender woman with blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She wore jeans and a baggy designer T-shirt, the kind that looks like it came from the thrift shop but probably cost over a hundred dollars. She was vaguely familiar. In fact, she kind of looked like me.

Oh.

Ohno.

Maurice made a choking noise and smacked at my arm. “Heather. That’s…”

“Hi, sorry I’m late!” the blonde woman cheerfully said. She extended her hand to one of the other couples in the suite. “I’m Amirah.”

Entering the suite behind her was Jonah Weiman. “Found her. She was signing autographs down at the main entrance. I told you, the next time you come to one of these events we can bring you in through a different door.”

“I like meeting with fans!” she said. “It only costs me a few seconds of time, and it makes their day.”

All the color drained from Maurice’s face. “I have changed my mind,” he whispered to me. “I would like to go home now.”

“We have to hide!”

“No, wait—” Maurice hissed.

The bathroom was the closest door to me, and it was open with the light on, so I darted in there. Maurice wasn’t following me, and we were out of time, so I gave him a panicked look and then closed the door.

But although the bathroom door had been open, it wasn’t unoccupied. Rogan was standing there, drying his hands on a paper towel. I ran smack into his body, which was functionally the same thing as running head-first into a brick wall.

“Oof,” I grunted, staggering as I hit him. My vision flashed white and I began to fall. Rogan dropped the paper towel and his arms wrapped around me, keeping me from hitting the ground.

I was rarely at a loss for words—Maurice would attest to that—but as I gazed into Rogan’s dark eyes, I struggled to think of what to say. I knew he was strong based on the way he looked, but it was different to actually feel him holding me with that strength. He handled me as easily as he had handled the sheet of paper towel that was now resting on the floor between us.

And hisscent. Rogan’s cologne was pungent in all the right ways, filling my nostrils with the intoxicating smell of smoke and spice and sweetness. Our faces were close together, and his lips were pursed together in a small smile. They looked kissable. Iwantedto kiss them, I realized. Who wouldn’t? Especially while he was holding me in his arms…

“Woah there,” he said. “You okay, Amirah?”

Hearing the other woman’s name shook me out of my daze. “Sorry. I didn’t think anyone was in here. The door was open…”

“I just came in here to wash my hands. I’ll leave you to it.” He nodded, and started to move past me. Back into the suite.

Where therealAmirah was.

Before I tell you about the stupid thing I did next, you have to understand the situation I was in. I was panicking. I had snuck into a suite owned by a bunch of beefy security guys, pretending to be someone I wasn’t. And the person I was pretending to be had just arrived. I was about to get caught. I felt like an animal backed into a corner. And animals backed into corners did desperate things.

What desperate thing did I do? I kissed Rogan Holt.

I had to stand on my tip-toes to crush my lips against his. He was stiff at first, but having my breasts pressed against his chest made his body come alive. His arms enveloped me again and he leaned into me, churning his warm lips against mine. I surged upward with need as he squeezed me tighter. One of his strong hands slid down to my lower back, pulling me into him while his knee pushed between my legs. I leaned into it, grinding against his hard-as-stone leg, the thin fabric of my dressswishingwith every scintillating jolt.

For a few seconds, we surrendered to the sexual urges driving us on. Two near-strangers enjoying one-another away from the rest of the group.

Rogan pried his lips away from mine long enough to ask in a husky voice, “Does this mean you want to hire us?”

“I do,” I replied, leaning into him with need. I could feel his hard length in his dress pants, radiating heat against my thigh. “But not for security.”

He grinned lustily, but before he could kiss me again, a Boston accent cut through the air in the suite behind us.

“Wait a fucken minute. You can’t be Amirah Pratt. She’s already here.”Heeyahinstead ofhere.

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