Navy Seal Bodyguard

Ahhh.

Not her uncle. Mia was torn between relief and frustration as she realized whom Lorraine meant.

“Santiago Acosta?” Why was everyone bringing up Alcosta today? “I’m not sure he’d be available at such short notice. I do know a number of other people we could invite, though. Dignitaries, celebrities, even politicians.”

“No, no, no. It has to be Alcosta. Everybody has been talking about him at the club, but he’s not taking invitations. He even turned down the Grangers.”

He did? The Grangers counted a congressman, a US diplomat and a Tony winner among their numbers. They were a group high on Mia’s event-organizing wish list.

“But if I could put word out that Alcosta is attending the gala, attendance will go through the roof. And by attendance, I mean donations, of course.”

“Of course.” Mia blew out a breath. “Let me see what I can do.”

“I knew I could count on you, Mia. You are so efficient and dependable. Your association with influential people like Alcosta does carry a lot of weight in considering you for my biggest events,” Lorraine declared before saying goodbye.

Mia hung up with a sigh.

To pull off getting a man like Alcosta on board—to say nothing of getting the man’s business—meant doing something Mia abhorred. Something she’d vowed to avoid at all costs.

Using a friend.

Her family was big on offering help and opinions, and thanks to years of military service all over the world, it had tons of connections. All of which she’d availed herself of when she’d started out.

But her brother-in-law’s bookkeeper pal had garnered her penalties by forgetting to file quarterly taxes. Her sister’s BFF snuck a strip show into a simple fund-raiser for firefighters. And her parents’ start-up loan offer had come with so many strings, Mia would have owed them 50 percent of her profits, along with her firstborn, before she’d have been able to untangle the mess.

Half the setbacks and problems she’d had with her business were thanks to her family’s “help.” Which was just one of the reasons why Mia now insisted on doing it all on her own. She’d even refused her uncle’s offer to bring her onto his senatorial staff for a year so she could garner government creds, something that might have gone a long way toward making her job easier.

For Mia, asking for favors for charity was simple. But asking for personal ones was akin to being poked in the eye with a burning stick, since no personal favor came without a few sticky strings.

The trick was going to be asking Jessica for help without making it obvious that she needed it.

“Why the long face?”

Speak of the devil.

Jessica Alexander posed in the doorway. The petite, curvaceous blonde looked like a cross between a china doll and a centerfold.

Mia shot a fast glance at the clock in the corner of her computer screen to make sure she hadn’t lost a few hours. Nope, only one o’clock in the afternoon.

But like Mia, Jessica didn’t have normal work hours. As an administrative assistant to Señor Alcosta, some days her roommate was home at five o’clock, some she waltzed in at two o’clock in the afternoon and others still she swept out at nine o’clock at night, wearing evening wear.

Their work schedules—or lack thereof—was pretty much the end of the similarity between the two women.

Despite measuring in at a lean five foot ten, Mia knew her sharp features gave her the look of a fairy. She wore her ebony hair in a pixie cut, the long bangs sweeping in a curve over eyes the color of bittersweet chocolate. She leaned toward textured fabrics, rich colors and avant-garde jewelry.

Jessica, on the other hand, was petite and built with enviously lush curves. She accented her fluff of blond curls, cornflower-blue eyes and a Cupid’s bow mouth with delicate fabrics in pastels and lace, skyscraper heels, and—in her only departure from her baby-doll style—flashy diamonds.

They were complete opposites in every other way, too. Mia was quiet. Jessica was flirtatious. Mia had cut her teeth on diplomacy. Jessica thrived on excitement. Mia was an introvert who loved nothing better than peace and quiet; Jessica was an extrovert who needed crowds and noise and attention. Jessica reveled in a secret love affair, sharing every detail—every detail—but the man’s name, while Mia had no more interest in a relationship than she had in dancing naked over hot coals.

And yet somehow they’d become friends. And despite Mia’s family’s concerns, she thought Jessica was good for her. The other woman brought spice and energy and excitement into her life, something she hadn’t realized was missing until she and Jessica had run into each other on the street two months ago.

It’d been the first the women had seen of each other since they’d attended the same boarding school. She’d been surprised Jessica even remembered, let alone recognized, her. But Jessica had swept her into a hug, taken her to lunch and—as soon as she’d found out Mia had a two-bedroom apartment—begged to move in for a few months.

“I thought you were working today,” she said as Jessica leaned one arm against the doorframe and propped the other on her tiny waist.

“I decide to take a half day,” Jessica said in a husky voice that made men melt. “Fridays should always be half days, don’t you think? Besides, I have a date tonight.”

Jessica hadn’t lived here long, but Mia knew from experience that a date night meant spa time, a Victoria’s Secret binge and a juicy morning-after story hot enough to singe Mia’s imagination.

What must it be like to have that kind of love life? Mia wondered. Incendiary passion, breathtaking excitement. Heck, she’d take enduring interest, something she’d yet to have with a man, much to her mother’s disgust.

“You didn’t answer my question.” At Mia’s frown, Jessica added, “Why the long face?”

Mia thought of Lorraine’s mandate that she get Santiago Alcosta to attend the gala. The best way to get something done was straight out, her father always said. Just do it, find it or ask for it.

She opened her mouth to do just that.

“Just thinking about the business of, well, my business,” Mia heard herself saying instead. “I have three smaller events this week to deal with, plus the gala next weekend, and I still need to find an assistant.”

Preferably an assistant who thought raising funds for charity itself was an ample paycheck.

“I can help you out,” Jessica offered, crossing the kitchen to start pulling out ingredients. “I’ve got a little extra time on my hands after tonight. My hottie is heading out of town for a week, so I’d love a project to keep me busy.”

A week of free help?

“What about your job?”

“I’m sure I can work it out,” Jessica said, flashing her most engaging smile. “Ready for your favorite matcha mocha latte?”

Mia hesitated.

Not over the latte. That, she wanted.

It was a favor she wasn’t so sure of.

“I appreciate the offer...”

“I’ll take care of any research, handle vendors, pay the bills and organize your database,” Jessica assured her, starting to work on her caffeine creations.

As the scent of coffee filled the air, Mia pictured Jessica’s room, with clothes thrown over furniture, a vanity table splotched with spilled makeup and shoes dumped in piles in the closet. And the papers. Papers were stacked, piled, spread and wadded everywhere.

Mia placed a protective hand on the files next to her.

“I appreciate the offer. I really do. But that’s not really—”

“I’ll even handle finding someone to help you at events to replace that gal. What was her name? The one who kept breaking things? Your computer, that case of glassware, her leg.”

“Bree was my coordination assistant,” Mia murmured. “And she was just a little accident-prone.”

“Right. Coordination assistant. I’ll find you one.” Jessica began pouring ingredients into the blender. “You won’t have to worry about anything.”

“But—”

“I know how you are about taking help with the business end of things, but I promise, I know what I’m doing,” Jessica said, setting two tall glass mugs on the table, each frothed high with whipped cream and a delicate layer of almond dust. “It’s not like I’d screw things up for you.”

“Of course I don’t think that,” Mia denied half-heartedly, wrapping both hands around the mug to inhale the rich blend of scents to buy a few seconds. “But I’ve already put a call into Karen Lawson. She coordinates volunteers for a number of charities. I’ve worked with her before and am sure she’ll be sending someone my way soon.”

“Maybe she will, maybe she won’t. You don’t want to depend on a maybe,” Jessica said, reaching into a slender pocket in her silk suit to pull out a business card. She set it on the table amidst Mia’s piles of folders and stacks of files, and using one pink nail, pushed it forward. “Not when you’re going to be really busy since I just snagged you a dream event.”

“A dream event?” Curious, Mia lifted the card.

Unsurprised, she read the name Santiago Alcosta, embossed in glossy black ink on heavy white card stock, with the entire card framed by a slender gold line. Elegant, understated decadence, she decided. That’d be the theme she’d pitch to go with these cards.

“Tell me more about this dream event,” she invited, wondering how to parlay what was probably a corporate luncheon into a chance to personally invite Alcosta to the Forever Families gala.

“I showed one of your fund-raiser pitches to my boss this morning, and Señor Alcosta is not only excited—he’s ready to rock and roll. There are some conditions,” Jessica continued before Mia could ask how she’d gotten her hands on one of Mia’s fund-raiser pitches. “You know, I told you how picky he can be. Lunch at twelve-twelve every day. At every meeting, people have to be seated in alphabetical order. The scent of the flowers can never overpower the scent of the food. That kind of thing. I’m not kidding when I say that Alcosta is seriously particular.”

Mia flipped the page of her notebook to write that all down.

“What are you doing?”

Mia glanced up.

“Making notes for the event. A luncheon?”

“Luncheon?” Jessica laughed. “Oh, no. Bigger than that. He wants to build a new children’s hospital in Mexico City and he wants you to handle a series of events to raise the funds.”

“A series of...”

“Yeah, a whole bunch of events. Like a half dozen whatever it takes to raise twenty million. I think that’s what he’s estimating it’ll take to get started.”

Twenty-million worth of events? Holy bananas.

So many thoughts bounced through Mia’s brain. Images of all the children who’d be helped by a new hospital. The thought of the benefits of health care for thousands. And, hoo baby, multiple events, wow, the benefits to her business. If Mia had a contract like that, after Lorraine Perkins was done doing backflips, she’d hand over the Winter Ball on a golden platter. Carte blanche. No nagging, no micromanaging, no peering over Mia’s shoulder, no deep sighs over preferring to keep the job in-house.

“What does he need? I should meet with him. Do I call him directly, or is that something I set up with you?” Mia flipped to a fresh page in her notebook. “Do you know if he has preferences already in place? Is he open to suggestions? Will you handle carrying through the arrangements once the plans are made, or will that be my responsibility? Knowing that ahead of time will help with my bid.”

“Bid?” Jessica waved that away with a flick of her baby-doll-pink fingernails. “You don’t have to bid, Mia. The job is already yours.”

“Mine? Just like that?”

“Oh, but he’s not looking at any other event planners. The job’s yours if you want it. I mean, you’ll have to create an outline of your plans for Alcosta’s approval, of course, and adhere to his wishes and rules. And there is a wee little time crunch involved. But after the way I’ve talked you up, I’m sure you’ll get the contract.”

Oh. My.

Mia bit back the urge to get up and dance.

Twenty million. A children’s hospital. A half dozen events. All hers.

While Jessica organized her files.

Mia’s urge to dance froze.

Before she could voice her concerns, Jessica made a show of grimacing.

“Um, look. It’s no big deal,” Jessica said, her tone making it clear that it was actually a huge deal. “But I sort of put myself on the line here. You know, promised all sorts of great things about your work. That you’d take the job. That you’d do fabulous. That you were the best in the business. Stuff like that. So I’m counting on you. I’d hate for Alcosta to start thinking he can’t trust my judgment.”

Mia blinked, the weight of Jessica’s words coating her doubts with a hefty layer of guilt.

“I’ll get a hold of Alcosta and let him know how excited you are.” Jessica grabbed her cell phone and started typing. “You get a proposal together. I’ll set up the meeting. Just leave me a list of what you need done.”

And with that, Mia was alone in the kitchen with her gorgeous view and the opportunity of a lifetime. Then she glanced down with a sigh at a nagging text from her mother.

By the time Mia had finished reading message eight of nine, she was sure of two things.

One, she was definitely going after the Alcosta job.

And two, no matter how old she was, her parents were going to drive her crazy.

* * *

His mother was driving him crazy.

A woman he’d dated a grand total of three time was stalking him.

His career was over.

A year ago, Spencer Lloyd had been on top of the world. Cryptographer, lieutenant and Navy SEAL, he’d known no other way to live but to the fullest.

One bomb explosion later, his vision was impaired just enough to put him out of the SEALs, his career was over and he was living life on the edge.

The edge of sanity, that was.

Getting out of hot spots used to be Spence Lloyd’s forte.

The hotter, the better.

He’d once spent three weeks as a well-tortured guest of terrorists before engineering an escape for himself and six others, leading the way on a leg broken in four places.

He’d parachuted through heavy gunfire to take out enemy munitions before they destroyed a small city.

He’d helped rescue a kidnapped politician from a high-level prison, taking out multiple targets in the process.

Lieutenant Spencer Lloyd, former Navy SEAL and all-round fearless guy, had faced it all with confidence and equanimity.

But now, sitting in his superior officer’s office on the Coronado Naval Base for what was quite likely the last time, Spence wondered what he’d got himself into.

“Could you repeat that order, sir?”

A scowl between his bushy brows, Admiral Theodore Cade said, “Lieutenant, I need your help with my daughter.”

Yeah. That’s what Spence thought he’d said.

“Sir, you’re aware that I’m in the middle of out-processing.”

Leaving the military. Ending life as he knew—and loved—it. The Navy might accept an officer with compromised vision, but the SEALs could not. Better to leave with his dignity and his trident intact, he’d decided, than to be demoted off the team.

“The fact that you’re transitioning into civilian life is the reason you’ve been chosen for this mission, Lloyd.”

This must be a personal issue rather than a military issue, Spence realized.

“I’m breaking protocol by informing you of the benefits before I give you the details of this mission.”

“Sir, I have no expectation of benefits or recompense for a favor.”

“Which is why I’m making the offer. That, and because your talents, skills and expertise make you the right man for the job.”

His abilities as a SEAL? As a cryptographer? Spence banished the questions from his head. He’d know soon enough, so forming any ideas beforehand would be a waste of time and energy.

“It’s come to my attention that the position you’re taking upon your release from the Navy is not as opportune as it seemed.”

That was one way to put it. A huge disappointment would be another. There weren’t a bevy of challenging jobs here in the San Diego area that called for the skills of a former SEAL. And obviously Cade knew that already.

“In light of that, and in return for the personal favor I’ll detail, I’m offering you an opportunity, a shot at a future where you utilize the talents and training the finest military experience in the world taught you. An opportunity to employ those skills in civilian life.”

Was he going to sprinkle it with fairy dust and throw in a unicorn that did dishes, too?

“How?” Spence managed.

“A former SEAL of my acquaintance has started a premier security firm. This firm consists exclusively of former Special Ops personnel and handles the types of cases that require military expertise but the government finds itself unable to be involved with.”

Spence had a sudden vision of that dishwashing unicorn doing his laundry, too.

“It sounds like an excellent opportunity,” he said. “It also sounds, as you said yourself, exclusive. To offer that level of service, Special Ops won’t be enough. It’ll require a handpicked team.”

A handpicked team he’d do anything but kill to be a part of. Spence had experienced the sensations often enough before ops and missions to recognize the tingle down his spine, the tightness in his gut. Excitement. Anticipation. And a bone-deep surety that this was something he’d kick ass at.

“I am serving as a liaison between the military, the government and the head of the newly established Aegis Security. As such, my recommendation will carry weight.”

In other words, Cade was his golden ticket to the civilian career of his dreams.

“What do you need me to do?”

Spence would have made the offer even without the once-in-a-lifetime incentive, a fact that Cade knew perfectly well. His men were trained to do anything and everything asked of them. That was duty. But Spence was also acknowledging his acceptance of the confidential nature of the mission.

“It’s come to my wife’s, and therefore my, attention that our daughter is in a dangerous position. To be honest, I first considered Anne’s concerns to be motherly overprotectiveness. But the key to a successful marriage is compromise. So despite my thoughts on the matter, I gave in to her request that I use my resources to access nonclassified information on an individual who’s come into Mia’s life. That research has led me to believe that my wife’s instincts are accurate.”

Cade lifted a manila file from his desk, hesitated, then held it out. Taking it, Spence continued to watch his commander.

Whatever was in the file was backup and details for later.

For now, he waited for his orders.

“I’ve already given orders to expedite your out-processing clearances. Details, such as lodging, transport, etc., are in this file.” Cade handed over the file with the admonishment, “Keep in mind, this is a covert operation. You’ll need to fit into the environment convincingly in order to secure your objective.”

“And the objective is?”

“Gain my daughter’s trust, keep her safe and end her association—on all levels—with Santiago Alcosta, while ensuring that her reputation is not damaged and her business not impacted. There is an event being held in San Francisco in three days. Your mission starts there.”

“How deep is my cover?”

“Use your own name and whatever personal history you feel is necessary to make your role convincing. Your rank, your time in the military and your connection to me are all classified.”

Maybe it was his near-civilian status, but Spence heard himself ask, “You’re ordering me to lie to the target? To your daughter?”

Like any commanding officer giving a morally questionable order, Cade didn’t even blink.

“Affirmative. This mission is and will remain classified. Standard protocols.” Cade gestured to the door. “You have your orders. I expect them to be carried out, Lieutenant.”

Chapter 2

All the best missions included careful planning, the right equipment, good weapons and the potential for danger.

This, sadly, was not one of those.

It’d taken him three days to prepare. Travel and arranging to stay at a buddy’s apartment in San Francisco had been easy enough. Negotiating a concealed weapons permit as a civilian had necessitated pulling a lot of strings, and getting his hands on the main equipment the admiral ordered—a fitted tuxedo—had taken even longer.

As far as the potential for danger went, after reading through the file and then doing the basic research any covert op required, Spence had come to the conclusion that while Alcosta came from so much dirt and the man was filthy by association, Alcosta’s own business practices were on the up-and-up. Since plenty of government agencies had reached the same conclusion, he was pretty sure that this mission was on par with a babysitting job.

A babysitting job that paid really well, Spence reminded himself. Besides, if he scored a position with Aegis, providing personal security would quite likely be part of the work description. Hopefully for high-level politicians, notable scientists and other high-risk VIPs, instead of his former commanding officer’s do-gooder daughter.

But an assignment was an assignment, he reminded himself as he strode down the hallway toward the ballroom, his motorcycle boots echoing with each step.

The only problem was, in the week since receiving the admiral’s orders, he hadn’t quite nailed down the specifics of infiltrating the daughter’s world. Maybe something with security. He’d figure it out once he’d assessed the situation. He hadn’t earned the call sign Improv for nothing.

With no plan more solid than making contact, Spence stepped into the sun-drenched ballroom, watching people scramble around like confused ants, arms filled with linens, peacock feathers and, for some weird reason, paintbrushes.

“Mia, half the tablecloths are missing.”

Spence looked around for his objective. Mia Cade.

According to the file, she was a willowy five-ten. Admiral Cade hadn’t included a photo, so Spence found himself searching for a thinner version of the admiral.

But there didn’t seem to be any white-haired, heavy-jowled women striding through the ballroom, with hands clasped behind their back while scowling at the workers scurrying around.

He did see a very tempting backside, though.

Her long, bare neck emphasized delicate shoulders and a slender back, wrapped in a vivid green tunic that draped over the sweet, tight curves of her butt encased in black leggings. He couldn’t be sure of her actual height since her knee-high boots had heels, but he’d put it close to five-ten.

She was either the target or the woman he’d be making breakfast for.

He angled to the left, wanting a better look.

“Excuse me.”

Spence shifted to one side to let a four-foot urn of flowers with legs pass.

Spence gave an appreciative hum when the sexy woman bent over to lift a cardboard box. Damned if that position didn’t give him a few intriguing ideas. His smile spread as he wondered if she’d do it again, to music.

His mind added a bluesy beat while he watched the woman’s backside as she handed the box off to a curly-haired blonde wearing a walkie-talkie and hoped like hell the sexy rear view didn’t belong to Cade’s daughter.

If luck was with him, the woman with the sexy backside had nothing to do with Mia Cade. Instead, he’d make contact with the target, she’d mention how cool it’d be to have a little security help and hire him, then introduce her sexy, dancing assistant, who’d want him working with her side by side.

Yeah. Spence could see that happening.

“Mia, the crystal is here but the cutlery is missing. Three waiters have called out sick and the, um, cellist? Is that what that says?” Tucking the box under one arm, the blonde held out a note. “Cellist? That’s the big violin, right? The sad-sounding thing?”