Insatiable. Julie Leto

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СКАЧАТЬ a few months later by their heart-wrenching breakup. Returning to New Orleans after twenty-three years hadn’t been easy, but she’d come determined to heal all her wounds—physical and emotional—start over and reconnect with her family.

      She’d made some headway. Her agility and strength were at one hundred percent. She no longer thought about Anthony every day or about the choices she should have made. The future beckoned.

      Unfortunately, even romantic, outrageous New Orleans had held little promise by way of truly exciting career choices, until her sister married Brandon. Too bad the eldest Chance brother, in addition to his military background, had an insatiable sexual appetite that kept the couple on their honeymoon four weeks past their scheduled return date. Or maybe Sam should blame her sister. Surrendering to passion seemed to be a genetic trait.

      Aw, hell. She couldn’t blame either of them. She’d never been one to deny her own desires—and she’d never even really been in love. Sam couldn’t begrudge her sister or Brandon their wedded bliss, but she still wished they’d be blissful at home.

      In the meantime, Brandon had suggested that Sam pull some security gigs for hands-on learning. Nothing too risky, he’d insisted. Her stunt-work training gave her physical agility and mental preparedness, but the movie sets, speeding cars and fireball explosions had been controlled. Carefully planned and painfully executed. She needed to experience the unexpected—learn to trust her gut.

      Somehow, she doubted the Supermarketing Expo fit the bill.

      “Samantha, this is Mitchell. Respond please.”

      Samantha unhooked the walkie-talkie from her belt and turned from the chatter and music echoing through the professionally designed booths and displays. “Deveaux, here.”

      “The CEO of LaRocca Foods is on his way to his booth. He’s a major player. Tim’s with him. Stand tall.”

      Samantha smirked. Another executive type headed toward his company’s booth and another opportunity for the security staff to play Secret Service to people whose importance hardly warranted professional protection. Except for the guys at the front assigned to allow entrance to paid conventioneers, the Expo was hardly high-risk. Now, if Mr. Model-licious did indeed plan an appearance as rumored, Sam might get her wish. Mass hysteria and raging female hormones could cause a very dangerous mix.

      She knew that firsthand.

      “Gotcha, boss.”

      “And tell Gumbert to return to her position.”

      Ruby slipped her glasses back onto her regal nose. “I guess the ogle-fest is over. Back to ice-cream land. How the heck do they expect me to stay on this diet when they keep handing me samples of mint chocolate chip? Still want to trade?”

      Samantha shook her head. She had few weaknesses in the world, but one was definitely butter pecan ice cream, which she knew they were also serving at the booth near Ruby’s station.

      “Fat chance.”

      Ruby patted her flat tummy. “Fat is right. Have fun with the big shot.”

      Samantha saluted then snapped the walkie-talkie back onto her belt, slipped her hands behind her back and waited for the corporate executive to rush by and ignore her diligence. She hated this job. She hated hating this job. So far, the only good thing to come of her move was being closer to her sister and mother—and again, the definition of good came into question.

      Her sister, when not honeymooning in some South American country, was a trip in herself—and gave new meaning to the term unconventional. Her mother, a world-renowned medium and self-proclaimed New Orleans spirit guide, defied any and all definitions. But so far, Endora had been supportive of Samantha’s return, even when she’d taken this “rent-a-cop” deal to supplement her income instead of accepting Mommy’s proffered handout.

      Which she wouldn’t need if her father hadn’t reinvested the money he owed her from her last job into his upcoming film. He’d named her as a producer and assumed she’d be thrilled. She could end up obscenely rich if the movie proved a hit. Too bad Sam didn’t care about vulgar wealth. She just wanted to be comfortable, stable and self-sufficient. A couple of months under her brother-in-law’s tutelage and she’d be a fully licensed, salary-earning bodyguard. She’d already obtained her concealed-weapon permit and had begun her coursework over the Internet. Now she needed some on-the-job training.

      But four weeks after their first scheduled return date, Brandon and Serena were still sunning and loving on a beach in Rio de Janeiro. Never mind that Sam had bought and installed a state-of-the-art computer system. Never mind that she’d used next month’s office rent to invest in several tracking devices, night-vision goggles and the smallest communications mechanisms she’d ever seen. They’d be the best-outfitted outfit in the personal-protection game.

      If they didn’t go out of business first. Okay, that was an overstatement. She’d only spent a couple thousand of the petty cash and next month’s office rent. But if she didn’t restore the treasury soon, she’d have to call Brandon and ask for more money—and admit she’d spent slightly more than he’d authorized.

      A growing disturbance near the west entrance caught her eye, sending her senses to alert mode. Flanked by two security guards, a threesome of somber-faced suits made their way through the crowd. Sam recognized the first man as Tim Tousignant, the dynamic young executive at the helm of the massive Expo and the man who’d approved her assignment. Good-looking and driven, he impressed Sam with his desire to run any event with smooth precision. Not enough to accept his invitation to dinner, but Sam didn’t mix business with pleasure. Not anymore.

      The woman on his left, a tall, dark beauty with luminous olive skin clutched a stack of presentation folders and barely contained a wry smile as she glanced at the growing crowd. She leaned nearer to the man in the center and said something she obviously thought was hilarious.

      Nearly a head taller than the others, the CEO of LaRocca Foods obviously didn’t agree. He shot his companion a sharp look and muttered a few words that caused her laughter to die a quick death. He watched his feet and held his hand up to the growing number of followers in a gesture more like a “stop” sign than a wave.

      Samantha’s skin prickled.

      Lured by the presence of this reluctant Pied Piper, people left the other displays to follow the hulking executive and his burgeoning entourage toward Sam’s end of the aisle near the north exit. An electric buzz rippled through the Superdome until waves of convention goers, mostly female, rushed toward the five-hundred-square-foot area reserved by LaRocca Foods. Mitchell said the CEO, right? She glanced at the label again, then back at the man in the middle of the swarming horde.

      Her heart skittered, but then she smiled. A few moments ago, the man’s incredible looks and intense gaze, captured on the pasta label, had affected her like a virulent potion. Now she had the perfect antidote—his obvious arrogance.

      If he wasn’t the end-all, be-all of shameless self-promotion, she didn’t know who was. Mr. Chief Executive Officer, sans the top half of his pressed Italian suit, was indeed the sexy hunk-o-rama on his newest product.

      Samantha started to laugh, but stopped when the security guards approached, their eyes wide as the swollen throng closed in. A few women squealed. Manicured hands reached across the guards, grabbing at the CEO who still walked, head down, until the mob stopped his progress.

      “Oh, God, it’s him! Dominick LaRocca!” someone shrieked.

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