Insatiable

“I’ll see to his safety.”

Dominick shook his head, obviously chafing under the protective orders. “Miss Deveaux has been very effective, but I can manage on my own.”

“I’m afraid I have to insist,” Tim said, his tone conciliatory yet firm. “It won’t be good business for the Expo if one of our top exhibitors is accosted outside the Superdome.”

Nick eyed Samantha skeptically. Either he didn’t trust her to do her job—which she doubted since the man didn’t seem to be a fool—or he simply didn’t want her around. She didn’t blame him. As a bodyguard, resentment of her presence would be a common response. As nice and accommodating as her own childhood bodyguards had been, she’d disliked living under their watchful eyes from the day after her father’s first megahit made him a celebrity, until she turned twenty-one and fired them herself.

Dominick’s stare lasted a long moment, but then he nodded his acceptance of the inevitable. “Can you arrange tightened security by this afternoon?”

“I’ll get right on it,” Tim answered. “Samantha, radio Mitchell to send my driver around back. I apologize again, Mr. LaRocca. I had no idea…”

Dominick silenced the apology with a flattened palm. “Neither did I. Obviously, there’s no accounting for some women’s taste.”

Self-deprecating humor looked good on him, Samantha decided, though if she hadn’t already spent it, she’d bet next month’s rent that he didn’t employ such self-mockery often. Still, Dominick LaRocca seemed an interesting mix of contradictions. Gorgeous men like him didn’t usually come in multidimensional models, at least not in her experience. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye.

Though the part that met the eye was pretty damn appealing.

While Dominick flipped open his cell phone to call his assistant before they left, Tim pulled her aside.

“Good job, Samantha. I didn’t mean to jump on you. I just don’t want Mr. LaRocca to think we take security lightly.”

“No problem.” She glanced at Tim’s hand, still lingering on her elbow. He stepped back and shoved both hands into the pockets of his pressed and creased Armani slacks.

“Look, I know you took this job for the money. That’s cool,” Tim assured her, suddenly looking every inch the twenty-something marketing wunderkind he was. “Looks to me like Mr. LaRocca could use someone like your brother-in-law until this hype dies down.”

Despite her many jobs, Samantha had never mastered the art of interviewing. At the time, she’d second-guessed her decision to be completely up front with Tim, but she was now impressed by his supportive attitude and excellent memory. He was probably trying to stave off any bad publicity, but Samantha sensed this wasn’t the time for cynicism. “Thanks, Tim. But Brandon’s still out of the country.”

“If you say so.” Then he winked. “I just thought you were dying to get your feet wet in the protection game yourself. You dipped your toe in today and did damned good. Remember that.”

Tim nodded, then shook hands with Mr. LaRocca before jogging down the hall and back to work. Tim was a go-getter, all right. He’d moved up the corporate ladder by finding opportunities—not by waiting for them to find him, or worse, by waiting for some member of his family to hand him the brass ring. From the time her parents had divorced and she’d gone to California with her father, Sam had been programmed to put her life on hold until Devlin Deveaux found her focus for her. He’d cast her in her first film, guided her into stunt work, even had a major hand in her doomed relationship with Anthony.

For all intents and purposes, wasn’t she now transferring that dependence from her father to her brother-in-law? Waiting for him to direct her?

Sam could indeed learn something from the way Tim’s mind worked. Luckily, she was a quick study.

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