Outspoken Angel (13 page)

While he reminded himself he should step away
from the window, Max felt his Adam’s apple jump when she suddenly
raised her head toward the window. Did she see him? He took two
steps to the side and then peered out again. With a sexy smile, the
temptress gave a three-fingered wave and then resumed her earlier
activity.

Max stepped completely away from the window.
He definitely needed to find out her identity. For security
reasons.

He ambled back down the hallway to the den
where Cameron sat cross-legged in the floor while she sketched.

He braced himself in the doorway. “We need to
talk.”

Her pencil never missed a stroke. “About
what?”

“What’s with the bathing beauty next
door?”

Her pencil lead snapped and broke in her
grasp. Obviously, he’d hit a nerve.

She raised her eyes and cleared her throat.
“Holly’s outside?”

He nodded.

“How much did you see?”

He raised both eyebrows. “She’s naked.”

He watched, amazed by the unfamiliar look of
disappointment that crossed her face. Did she think him that
shallow? Little did she know, but even naked, the woman outside
didn’t even tempt him. No, the fiery, now apparently jealous, pixie
who gave him the third degree had the monopoly on that. Where the
hell were his sunglasses?

“Who is she?”

“My neighbor, Holly London.”

“What does she do besides sunbathe in the
raw?”

“She owns a fitness center.”

“Which one?”

“Why?”

“I need to check it out, Fussbudget.”

“Well, Sherlock,” she drawled, “she owns
Fitness in the Buff on Arapaho.”

Max offered a half-smile. “The one where you
exercise?”

“Yes, why?”

“Can I watch?”

“Oh, good grief! Not that kind of buff. Buff
like muscular.”

“Doesn’t she have tanning beds?” he asked,
steering himself away from his vision of Cameron naked.

“She prefers the natural light.”

“Is she one of your close friends?”

She shrugged. “As close as we can be, I
guess. Holly’s a little different.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Different how?”

“It won’t make any sense if I tell you.”

“Try me.”

“Holly keeps to herself. She doesn’t
socialize much, yet she seems to know things.”

“Know things?”

She nodded. “She’s very intuitive.”

Max concentrated hard to keep a straight
face. “She waved at me.”

“Really?” He caught the change of pitch in
her voice. “Well, don’t get too excited. The sun glares off that
window. She probably just saw movement and thought you were
me.”

“What about your other neighbors? Do you know
all of them?”

“Everyone in this neighborhood knows each
other. Since most are prominent business owners, we tend to run
into the same faces quite frequently.” She gave him a squinted
glare. “Do not harass my neighbors, Max.”

“Relax, I need to stay anonymous.”

“Impossible, King Kong.”

He snickered, glad to see she’d gotten over
her short-lived disappointment. “What about vacant houses?”

She shook her head. “None.”

Satisfied with her information, he turned to
leave.

“By the way,” she said from behind him, “I
usually keep the shade pulled over that window.”

He paused and glanced over his shoulder.
“And?”

“And, it squeaks on the way back up.”

Max shook his head at her warning, dialed his
cell phone, and headed downstairs. He hadn’t gotten far when she
hollered from the den.

“Max!”

He snapped his phone closed, stopped on the
second step, and turned around. What now?

“What?”

She stood with one curvy hip braced on the
doorframe. “I need to go to the office.”

“Now?”

“Yes, now,” she insisted. “I’m missing some
sketches.”

“Why didn’t you say something at the
spa?”

“I was too relaxed. It won’t take long, I
promise.”

“You can’t just re-draw them?”

“No!” she said over a giggle. “Look, I’ll go
alone. You stay here and guard the cat.”

He narrowed his eyes and flashed her a gentle
but firm warning. “Do not mock me, Sweet Thing. You’ve got two
minutes.”

* * *

After Max hustled her out of his truck and
into the downtown office building that housed Newberry &
Tremaine, Cameron stepped onto the elevator, grateful to be free
from Max’s touch for the moment. He had all but smothered her with
his burly, dominating body from the minute they left the house
until the elevator doors closed, giving literal meaning to the term
bodyguard
.

Cameron leaned against the back wall of the
elevator and took advantage of the short ride to organize her
thoughts. Although she wouldn’t admit it to anyone but herself, she
was more than a thousand times relieved Max attached himself to
her. She ignored the mocking voice inside that wondered why; she
knew exactly why. Yet, she wondered if she should feel some guilt
for the relief she felt. She wasn’t threatened by Vince’s antics,
but having Max at her beck and call was definitely reassuring, not
to mention stimulating.

She glanced at him, his eyes once again
hidden in the depths of his sunglasses and his chiseled body
propped against the side wall of the elevator with his arms folded
across his chest. Silently ready, willing and oh, so able. What she
wouldn’t give to climb that mountain.

Lost in her lustful analysis, Cameron felt a
wave of shock slap her when she noticed the open elevator door. How
long had that been open? She took a breath to compose herself and
nonchalantly turned to Max, still braced in the elevator except now
with a sexy smirk.

He unfolded his arms and gestured to the door
with one hand. “After you, Half Pint.”

Thankful Max resorted to nicknames to ease
the obvious sexual tension between them, Cameron left the elevator
and led him down the hallway to the office. Her effort to locate
keys in her tote bag stalled when Max grasped her shoulder and
pulled her away from the door. She gave him a curious glance.

“The door’s open,” he whispered.

Puzzled by his whisper, she giggled. “So? The
janitor probably forgot to close it.”

He arched an eyebrow, a tell-tale sign that
he doubted her explanation.

“It happens,” she insisted.

He bent to take a closer look at the door.
“Not this time. The lock is broken.” He straightened and shoved her
behind him. “Stay here.”

Irked by his drill sergeant tone, she laughed
to cover her annoyance. Was he serious? “No way, Rambo. I’m stuck
like glue, remember? If you’re going in there, I’m going with you.
I am not staying out here alone.”

“Suit yourself, but stay behind me, and don’t
touch anything.”

She rolled her eyes. He would have to go all
CSI on her.

Max pulled a gun from the back of his pants
and started forward.

She grabbed the back of his shirt. “Put that
away!”

She could’ve sworn his eyes shot flames
through his sunglasses as he turned to face her. “What the hell are
you talking about?”

“If Vince is responsible for this, you don’t
need a gun. He’ll roll over and play dead as soon as he sees
you.”

His face reddened and for a second, she
halfway expected his head to shoot off his body. Instead, he balled
his fists and turned back to the door. “We will have this
conversation another time.”

Something told her not to argue and she bit
her lip as she watched him ease the door the rest of the way open
with the barrel of his gun. As soon as she followed him into the
office, her heart fell at the sight of the disaster zone she
found.

Blueprint confetti decorated the carpet. The
furniture lay helplessly upside down with the cushions slashed
mercilessly. Both hers and Rachel’s offices were trashed, the desks
toppled and computers smashed. Plants screamed for the comfort of
their pots. Bright red paint splotches coated the normally
welcoming, pale brown walls and the framed art resembled
matchsticks.

Once Max walked through the entire office, he
stuck the gun back in his waistband.

“Well, whoever it was didn’t miss anything,”
Cameron drawled.

“I hope you backed up your computers.” He
palmed his cell phone.

“Yes. We back up every day,” she said,
attempting to force the despair from her voice.

She felt a surge of warmth invade her senses
as Max tweaked a wayward curl with his free hand.

“We’ll get this cleaned up after the police
are done. It won’t take as long as you think.”

“I need to call Rachel and let her know
what’s happened. Do you think it was Vince?”

Max nodded. “Probably. I’m hoping he was
careless enough to leave evidence behind.”

Unbridled anger snapped her out of her slump
and she planted her hands on her hips. “I told you the gun was a
waste of time.”

Max stabbed buttons on his phone. “You
think?”

Before she could answer, he spoke into his
phone and reported the crime to Hawke and then the police
department. Cameron shook another curl out of her face and begged
the fear that invaded her reasoning to go away. Guns just had an
uncanny way of making the situation seem so much more serious.

“I’m a SEAL,” he said without apology. “I’m
always armed, and not just with a gun.”

Cameron felt her eyes widen as she digested
the reality of his admission. Not only was he a SEAL, he was a
professional bodyguard. Licensed to kill.

“I guess I just didn’t think about that.”

“I don’t intend to use it.” He caressed her
cheek with his fingers. “But know this, Goldilocks, I will kill for
you, if I have to.”

Max left her speechless as he greeted the
first officer to arrive. Still reeling from his confession, she
stood next to him and fidgeted while he provided background
information, and fingerprint technicians coated every inch of the
mangled carnage with powder in an attempt to uncover an identity.
Her bravery began to quiver.
He won’t stop until he breaks
me
.

Her heart pounded and the ringing in her ears
drowned any attempt at rational thought. As the room began to spin,
her ankles wobbled over the sides of her Christian Dior brown
leather python sandals and threatened to deposit her on the floor.
Regaining control for a split second, she managed to wrap her hand
around Max’s bulging biceps on the way down.

“Whoa, Sweet Stuff.” He pushed her into one
lone chair and squatted in front of her. “Panic attack?”

“No.” Even she heard how weak her denial
sounded.

He tipped her chin with his finger. “You’re
safe with me.”

Tears leaked past her composure. “He’s so
determined.”

Against his better judgment, Max pulled
Cameron into his arms and squeezed. As he inhaled, her soft, sweet
scent invaded his senses and called his libido to come and
play.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawke
and Rachel enter the office. Hawke grabbed Rachel’s hand as she
started toward Cameron.

Cameron sniffed and unfolded herself from
Max’s warm embrace. “Thank you, Max.”

“Anytime, Sunshine.” He grinned and wiped her
tears with his thumbs before he stood to compose himself.

“Cameron!” Rachel extracted her hand from
Hawke’s and waddled over. “Are you okay? Were you here?”

Cameron stood and pushed Rachel into her
chair.

“Relax, Rachel.” She smiled. “I’m fine, and I
wasn’t here when the tornado hit this place. Just look at this
mess!”

Max motioned for Hawke to follow him to the
hallway.

Hawke rubbed the back of his neck. “Max this
is insane.”

“Did you see the wall in the conference
room?”

“No, we just came through the door.”

Max glanced at Rachel and Cameron who were
still trying to convince each other it wasn’t so bad.

“C’mon.” He led the way to the conference
room at the end of the hall.

The table had been overturned, knocking a
large hole in the wall, and the chairs lay stacked like firewood.
On the front wall, in scarlet letters, the perpetrator scribbled a
love-felt message.

YOU’RE MINE, BITCH

“Sonuvabitch, Max, Rachel cannot see
this.”

“I have no intention of letting either one of
them see it.”

“I’ll call Greg.” Hawke punched his speed
dial. “Someone will come now.”

Max nodded and waited until Hawke
disconnected.

“This guy has a screw loose,” Hawke said as
Max closed the door behind them.

“That’s why he’s so dangerous.” Max followed
Hawke down the hallway.

“Do you think the cameras got him?”

“I’m hopeful.” Max shrugged. “There’s not
much else we can do until somebody finds him. He’s a slippery
bastard.”

“Do we need Steele?”

“Done.”

“Then it won’t be long.” Hawke sighed as they
re-entered the front office. “I won’t be able to keep Rachel away.
We’ll come by later.”

Max nodded, oddly relieved Hawke was too
concerned about Rachel to question him about Cameron.

“Come on, Sweetheart.” Hawke draped his arm
around Rachel and patted her swollen stomach. “Let’s go home and
you can take a nap.”

“Excellent idea,” Rachel agreed. “You go
home, too, Cameron. I’ll be by to check on you this evening.”

Cameron playfully saluted Rachel. “Yes,
Ma’am.”

Max nodded a silent agreement and watched
them leave.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you, Max.”

He turned back to Cameron, slightly wary of
her apology. “No apology necessary. Let’s go home.”

As she looped her arm through his, he was
ironically comforted by the stranglehold she had on him.

* * *

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Mid-morning sunlight streaked through the
living room window and cast a golden spotlight on Cameron as she
swayed like a professional super model down the staircase. Max
wiped the back of his hand across his mouth and watched in sheer
delight as her short, tight red skirt slid upward and exposed the
smooth skin of her thighs. Where was she going dressed like
that?