Personal Protector. Debra Webb

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СКАЧАТЬ weeks for this sudden turn of events to leave her anything but wary. “That doesn’t explain why you’re in his apartment. And just how do you know Mr. Rizzoli?”

      Martinez licked those incredible lips and Piper almost jerked with reaction. Silently she cursed herself. She had to get a grip here. She’d worked with Jones for over three years and he’d never once had this effect on her.

      “I’m apartment-sitting.” Martinez lifted one shoulder in the hint of a shrug. “Watering the plants, feeding the fish, you know, holding the fort down. My aunt and Mr. Rizzoli met in a gardening class of some sort.”

      Piper felt herself nod, though she didn’t understand at all. Had Mr. Rizzoli ever mentioned attending a class? Nothing came to mind. But even so, this wasn’t like Mr. Rizzoli. He never went anywhere, not since his wife died anyway. The few occasions he left the apartment other than as dictated by necessity were when Piper coerced him into attending some function at which she needed an escort.

      Like tonight’s charity art auction.

      Oh, God.

      Her eyes rounded and this time it had nothing to do with Martinez’s naked body, her hormones or her suspicions. She had no escort for tonight’s function. And it was definitely too late to call anyone else. She’d RSVP’d for two. No one—no one—came unescorted to these affairs. And if she did, it would be the gossip of every local television as well as radio talk show host tomorrow.

      “Was there something you needed?” Martinez was watching her closely now, as if he expected her to faint or make some unanticipated move.

      Piper felt certain all the blood had drained from her face at the thought of all the possible ramifications of attending the art auction alone. Maybe she would be lucky and faint; then she could claim she’d fallen ill and unable to attend tonight’s goodwill mission.

      “Mr. Rizzoli was supposed to be my—my escort at a charity function tonight,” she finally stammered. “I suppose he forgot,” she said.

      A devilish grin lifted one corner of Martinez’s sexy mouth. “No problem,” he said smoothly. “I’ll be more than happy to stand in for him.”

      She shook her head, then realized he wouldn’t understand unless she said the words. “It’s a black-tie affair. You don’t have time to—” He leaned close, the fresh scent of his soap tickling her senses, cutting off her next words and sending a shiver through her. Mr. Rizzoli certainly never smelled like that.

      “Don’t worry, querida. You think I can’t dress the part?” he teased softly. “Give me five minutes.” He winked, then pivoted and strode away, leaving her standing, stunned, in the open doorway.

      Any air still remaining rushed out of Piper’s lungs as she watched him stride across the room and disappear down the hall. The white towel hung low on his slim hips, and stood out in sharp contrast to the smooth, dark skin that made him the perfect candidate for a sexy body oil commercial. She could just imagine that muscular body slathered in exotic-smelling oil. Piper sucked in a burst of much-needed air at the unbidden image of her smoothing it over his skin. She shook her head to dislodge the ludicrous picture and forced one foot in front of the other until she’d gotten inside far enough to close the door. She sagged against it. Another deep breath and she felt somewhat rational again. All she had to do was stay composed on the outside. He didn’t have to know what havoc he played with her inside.

      Piper swallowed with immense difficulty and surveyed the familiar environment. She had played cards many times with Mr. Rizzoli since his wife died last year. Brought dinner to him even more often. He was a kind, good-hearted man. He would never ask someone to watch his apartment if he didn’t trust that someone completely. And if he knew Martinez’s aunt…

      Surely that meant that she could trust Martinez.

      Piper paused next to Mr. Rizzoli’s antique desk. His ancient manual typewriter looked lonesome without a piece of paper and a half-finished letter hanging out of it. He was always corresponding with a friend or relative he hadn’t seen in ages. Mr. Rizzoli wrote letters like most people these days used the telephone. Piper smiled, remembering the man’s rare smile and even rarer laughter. Maybe he would find a fun companion in Hawaii. The name of an island resort hotel along with a telephone number was written in Mr. Rizzoli’s bold strokes on the desk’s notepad. For Martinez to contact him in case of an emergency, she supposed.

      To ensure Martinez was taking his job seriously, Piper walked across the room and surveyed the aquariums. All looked well, as best she could tell. The setup was pretty much self-maintained in that the fish were fed automatically. She guessed that Martinez’s job was to make sure the food reservoir was kept filled and that nothing went wrong with the water’s chemical balance. The slow gurgling sound was somehow soothing to her frayed nerves. The urge to collapse on Mr. Rizzoli’s comfortable old sofa and sleep until her life was back to normal was almost overwhelming.

      “Don’t be ridiculous,” she chastised softly. “You are not going to hide.” Piper strode determinedly to where the orchids sat on their glass shelves beneath their special light and she studied them closely. No sign of wilting…yet. It appeared that Martinez was doing what her neighbor had asked of him.

      She still couldn’t understand why Mr. Rizzoli hadn’t left her a note or something. Frowning, Piper turned away from the lovely flowers just in time for her gaze to collide with a fully dressed and completely elegant Martinez.

      “Where exactly are we going?” he inquired as he crossed the room in slow, deliberate strides designed to enhance the overall picture of sheer sophistication. “I hope this is acceptable,” he added as he indicated his attire with one broad sweep of his hands.

      It was her turn to speak. “That’s—” she cleared her throat “—fine.” Piper clutched the small purse in her hand until the beads felt like tiny needles. “Fine” was nowhere near an adequate description as was generally the case with Martinez. “I requested that the limo come a little early,” she continued around the rock lodged in her throat. “I’d thought we—Mr. Rizzoli and I—would have time for dinner, but…” She jerked her gaze away and tried to banish the image of Martinez in a tux. If she’d thought he looked handsome in flashy street garb, she now knew why the word devastating was often used to describe the way the right man could look. The tux fit like a glove. The contrasting black and white only served to set the classic frame for his model-perfect build. “We should just go straight to the Exhibit Hall. There’s a charity art auction,” she finally remembered to say in answer to his original question.

      He shrugged easily. “Sounds interesting.”

      For the first time in her entire life, Piper knew what it was to be totally blown away by the way a guy looked.

      She had to get a grip. Things like this didn’t happen to her. She was too logical, too professional. She didn’t have time for this kind of distraction.

      Somehow she had to convince Dave that this new cameraman would not do. No way was she going to allow years of hard work to go down the drain because she lost her head and got involved with a guy like Martinez. She knew nothing about him and he probably liked it that way. Dave hadn’t even told her where he’d come from, only that he was somehow related to the station manager. She had learned only this morning that he wasn’t from Atlanta.

      Her chest tightened at her next thought. Maybe Martinez thought the best way to ensure his place at the station was to have something on Piper. She had a squeaky-clean reputation. The last thing she needed was some hunky guy like Martinez going around saying he’d slept СКАЧАТЬ