The Infatuation (Josh and Kat #1 , The Club #5) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Morgan,” I replied to Derek
yesterday, extending my hand and flashing him my most flirtatious
smile. “But please, call me Kat.” I knew a bodyguard would be
coming to my house, of course—Jonas had already said as much
earlier that morning—but only in my wildest dreams did I imagine
he’d look like Derek.
    “Miss Morgan,” Derek said, seemingly impervious to
my charms. “My name is Derek Something-or-Other, and I’ve been
assigned to protect you.” He looked at his phone. “By a Jonas P.
Faraday?”
    “Yeah. Jonas mentioned he’d be sending someone.
Thanks for coming.”
    “I’ll be watching over you during the daytime,”
Derek continued matter-of-factly. “And my partner, Rodney, will
take the night shift.” He motioned across the street. “That’s
Rodney over there, just so you know what he looks like.”
    I walked out of my apartment and peered across the
street in the direction Derek was pointing—and there, sitting in a
nondescript sedan, was Father Time. When Rodney saw me looking at
him, he curtly waved, started his engine, and drove away, and I
suppressed the urge to laugh with glee that Derek had been the one
to show up on my doorstep to take the first shift.
    “Come in,” I purred to Derek, brushing past him into
my apartment.
    “Sure. Just to do a sweep of your surroundings and
give you a safety de-briefing. After that, I’ll keep watch from
across the street to give you privacy.” His tone was strictly
professional—very
Kevin-Costner-at-the-beginning-of- The-Bodyguard. Not the
least bit flirtatious.
    Things looked grim for my chances of singing
Whitney’s tune right about then—and honestly I might have dropped
the whole thing if it weren’t for what happened next: Derek’s eyes
unmistakably darted down to the curve of my breasts in my
tight-fitting blouse and then down to my hips in my slim-fitting
business skirt and then back up to my lips— at which point
they flickered with unmistakable desire. And that’s when
I knew Mr. Professional Bodyguard maybe wasn’t quite as
all-business underneath that dark suit as he seemed—and that maybe,
just maybe, it was only a matter of time before Derek the Bodyguard
would be whispering things like, “No, Kat, I can’t protect you like
this” and “Not on my shift” and “I was hired to protect you, not to
help you shop” into my ear.
    “Come in, Derek,” I said, waltzing back into my
apartment from the walkway. “You wanna cup of coffee?” I asked
breezily, even though coffee wasn’t at all what I was thinking
about.
    Derek grinds his hard-on into me and kisses me,
jolting me back to the delicious present on my couch. His hand
skims my thigh under my skirt and I widen my legs to let him know
I’m not at all shy here, big fella, that this isn’t my first time
at the sexy-times-rodeo and he need not be quite so respectful of
my vagina (which I’ve noticed he hasn’t even attempted to
touch).
    Derek reacts to my implicit invitation by floating
his hand up toward the increasingly wet crotch of my panties. Yes. That’s right. Go for it, Bodyguard. Do it. I’ve got the
chorus of Whitney’s song all cued up for you, baby. But, damn,
his hand stops at the inside of my thigh and then trails across my
hipbone and around to my ass.
    Damn.
    I press into him with increased enthusiasm, and—
    My cell phone buzzes on the coffee table,
repeatedly, with an incoming call.
    Crap. I’m supposed to be at work right now,
actually. I had an early breakfast meeting with a client (the owner
of a new boutique) about the social media campaign I’m planning for
her—and afterwards, I swung by my apartment on my way back to the
office “to grab an umbrella.” Or so I said. Yes, it had started to
pour—this is Seattle, after all—but we have plenty of extra
umbrellas and plastic ponchos at the office. What I was actually
doing with the whole “I gotta grab an umbrella” ruse was creating
an excuse to lure my new bodyguard (who’d been