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flesh on top of his as he plunged deeply inside her sweet, wet heat. Not that Josh was about to let that arousal creep into his voice, at least not yet. “Josh Wyatt, miss—”
    â€œTess Franklin,” Peg said.
    â€œTess,” Josh said, his gaze still on her.
    That faint blush deepened until it was nearly as dark as her silky peach suit. “Mr. Wyatt.”
    â€œJosh,” he corrected, in an easy, welcoming tone. “What can I do for you?” Please, God, let it be something good.
    â€œAh, Josh,” Peg said, “it’s not what you can do for Tess. It’s what she can do for you.”
    Even better. Josh nodded as if he understood, while his fingers gently caressed hers. “And what can you do for me, Tess?”
    Although she had come fully prepared to answer that question, and many others, at the moment words escaped her.
    He had really beautiful brown eyes that were as dark as his brows and a shadow of beard, which made his hair seem that much lighter. His eyes were also bright with intelligence that was softened with patience and respect. A potent combination in any man. Male was in every part of him, even his clean, masculine scent. It reminded Tess of leather, tobacco, and torrid summer nights when all caution was lost. It drove even more of her good sense away.
    At least, until Alan impatiently cleared his throat.
    As Josh shot him a look of warning, Tess figured she should pull herself together.
    It wasn’t like her to behave so foolishly; she had never done such a thing before, especially with a man. Early on, Tess had been determined to be the equal of any guy.
    For some reason, Josh Wyatt made her forget everything she had believed was important, while also making her feel more female than she ever had.
    His heat, touch, the sound of his deep, rich voice, the power of his male presence was even more intoxicating than the photographs.
    Of course, those photographs were the only reason she had come here today. It probably would be best if she remembered that.
    â€œIt’s all in here,” she said, easing her hand from his.
    As Josh looked down at that, then to the envelope she was pulling from her shoulder bag, Alan spoke up.
    â€œDon’t touch that,” he ordered Josh, then frowned at her. “I should have guessed. You’re a process server and that’s—”
    â€œMore slander,” Tess interrupted, “or at the very least, another preposterous assumption.” She looked at Josh. “I’m a bodyguard.”
    No shit? His gaze immediately trickled down her, lingering on her heels. They were the same peach color as her suit with a cut out area to expose her toes.
    Her nails were polished in a pinkish tint that was so adorable and arousing Josh had an insane urge to drop to one knee so that he could stroke, then lick those lovely toes. A bodyguard’s toes.
    That brought him back to reality fast as his gaze inched back up her. To his guesstimate, she was probably five-seven or eight, weighed no more than one hundred and twenty-five pounds, though she wasn’t skinny—oh, no. Her flesh was ripe, toned, tanned, and looked raring to go.
    Even so—a bodyguard?
    Josh smiled, unable to help himself, as his gaze settled on the deep V of her suit jacket. “Since when?”
    The edges of that jacket moved slightly with her very deep, very pissed breath.
    Uh-oh. Josh lifted his gaze and wasn’t a bit surprised that her slender brows were drawn together. After clearing his throat, he used his most professional voice. “How long have you been a bodyguard?”
    â€œSince I left the force.”
    His eyes widened. “What force?”
    â€œThe. Police. Force.”
    She had said that very slowly, as if he was unbelievably dense or an incredibly bad, bad boy.
    â€œYou’re a cop?”
    â€œEx-cop.”
    Not even CSI: Miami had cops that looked as good as this.
    â€œYou carry a