The Hill. Carol Ericson

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      “Let me. It’s a little tricky.” He flicked open the catch with his thumb and pulled the helmet from her head.

      She tossed her mane of silver hair, which had escaped from her ponytail, back from her flushed face. “Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride. That was always my favorite.”

      “Was it?” A strand of hair clung to the gloss on her mouth and he brushed it aside, the tip of his finger skimming across the smooth skin of her cheek.

      Her chest rose and fell as her tongue swept along her bottom lip. Her half-closed lashes fluttered.

      If he ever saw an invitation to a kiss, this ranked right up there with the best of them. Did she taste expensive, too? Like Cristal champagne and succulent strawberries?

      The cold, hard cash—or at least the cold, hard check she’d written to him that was waiting in his desk drawer—had him pivoting away from her charms. Planting one boot on the step to her building, he smacked the heavy door to the lobby with the palm of his hand. “This is the first line of defense?”

      She blinked. “Uh-huh.”

      He tried the door handle and the solid door didn’t budge.

      “There’s a code.” She pointed to the silver keypad to the right of the door, which he’d seen her use last night to gain entry.

      “Wait.” He held up his hand and started randomly punching buttons on another keypad on the other side of the door.

      After several tries, a voice came over the speaker. “Yeah?”

      Judd leaned forward. “Forgot my code.”

      The door clicked and Judd shook his head at London. “Fail.”

      As they stepped into the marble lobby, she pointed to the security guard at the front desk in front of his monitors. “Backup.”

      The guard looked up from his magazine and pushed his hat back from his graying hair. “Hello, London.”

      “Hey, Griff.” She wedged her hip against the desk. “Griff, this is Judd Brody. I hired him for some extra security, so you’ll be seeing his face around here for a while. Judd, this is Gene Griffin, but we all call him Griff.”

      The older man didn’t even rise from his chair, and Judd leaned over to shake his hand. “Retired cop?”

      Griff grinned. “That obvious?”

      Obvious he’d found himself a cushy job while collecting his pension. “I have a couple of brothers who are cops—it’s just the look.”

      He walked behind Griff and hovered over his shoulder. “Why is that monitor dark?”

      “Couldn’t tell you. I’m not the tech guy. It’s been reported and someone’s going to come out to work on it.”

      “Which area does it cover?”

      “The garage, I think.” He slapped his magazine down on the desk and tapped a few keys on the keyboard, which did nothing at all. “Yeah, that’s the garage.”

      “What are your shifts here?”

      Griff shot a look beneath shaggy eyebrows at London, who lifted one shoulder. “Eight to four, four to midnight, and midnight to eight. It’s twenty-four-hour coverage.”

      “Do you ever leave the desk?”

      The guard picked up his celebrity magazine and shook it out. “When nature calls, buddy.”

      “Lunch? Patrols around the building?”

      “Yep.”

      “Any coverage when that happens?”

      “Nope.”

      Judd rapped on the desk with his knuckles. “Thanks for the info, Griff.”

      He hadn’t meant to piss off the old guy, but some people took his tone the wrong way. Hell, London had hired him to protect her, not make nice with lazy security guards. The guys on the night shifts had to be better.

      As he followed London across the lobby to the elevators, he glanced up at the cameras in the corners—visible and easy to dismantle or block.

      London stabbed at the elevator call button and hissed, “Why were you interrogating Griff like that? He’s a good guy.”

      “He’s a retired cop who found himself an easy gig where he can sit on his ass and read celebrity rags.”

      “Shh.” She put a finger to her lips, her sculpted eyebrows colliding over her nose.

      The elevator doors whispered open and he stepped into the mirrored car after London. “Just calling it like it is. I’m here to assess the risks to your security and I just found two of them. You don’t let random strangers into the building just because they buzz your place, do you?”

      “No, sir.” She trailed a finger across her left breast. “Cross my heart.”

      He dragged his gaze away from her cleavage and backed up against one mirrored wall. “Good, because that’s just stupid. What’s the point of having a coded key entry?”

      “No point at all.”

      “Are you making fun of me? Because this is serious. This is your security.”

      Her smile twitched at one corner. “It’s just that you got all stern on me and poor Griff.”

      God, he must’ve come across like his brothers. He folded his arms across his chest. “Just doing my job, ma’am.”

      “And I appreciate that.”

      The elevator dinged to a stop and the doors slid open onto a quiet hallway. The shiny marble from the lobby had been replaced by carpet so thick his boot would probably leave a crater in the pile.

      “How many places up here?” He glanced down the hallway. Technically she had the penthouse, since her place occupied the top floor of the building, but it looked as if she shared the space with at least one other unit.

      “Two.” She had her keys in her hand.

      “Who’s your neighbor?”

      “I don’t have one.”

      “Is the other place for sale?”

      “No.” She spun around at her door. “I own the other place. I bought it when the previous owner gave it up.”

      He held up his hands at her defensive tone. “Hey, I’d do the same.”

      She shoved her key into the dead bolt and froze. “Judd.”

      “What?”

      “I always lock my dead bolt, and it’s not locked.”

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