Guarding Raine (Security Ops) Read Free Page A

oversize man’s shirt she wore, he could be forgiven his assumption. And she was no kid. At first glance Mac would have pegged her age at eighteen or twenty, but after a closer look he revised his estimation.
    Although her face was smooth of wrinkles, her eyes belied her apparent youth. Large and thickly fringed with long, thick lashes, they were the color of antique gold coins. But more surprising than their color was the incongruous look of age in them. He’d seen that look before, in the eyes of the people left alive mourning their bombed village and dead families. Then the woman blinked, and Mac was left wondering if what he’d thought he’d seen in them was a trick of the light.
    His intense perusal was interrupted by her next words. “I’m Raine Michaels. How can I help you?” Her tone was polite, slightly interested, and ignited what was left of his temper.
    “Are you always this polite to people you don’t know?” He kicked the door shut behind him with the heel of one boot, and leaned against it, arms folded.
    Her eyes flickered, but when she answered her voice was even. “I try to be. Why? Is there some reason I should be rude to you ?”
    He noted that the calm in her voice was at odds with the slight trembling in the hand still holding her paintbrush. “I’d think there’s plenty of reason to at least be careful, yeah. From what I’ve noticed of this place so far, you’re lucky all you’ve had to contend with are some notes and phone calls. Because there’s absolutely nothing stopping some nut from walking right into your house.”
    “Apparently not,” she murmured, turning slightly from him to lay her brush down. She picked up a rag and wiped off her hands. “Why don’t we quit talking in riddles and get to the point? Who are you and why are you here?”
    “The name is Mac O’Neill.”
    Mac O’Neill. The security expert her father had sent over. Raine let out a breath she hadn’t been aware of holding. Tremors of adrenaline still vibrated through her veins, warring with relief at his introduction. The suddenness with which a stranger had appeared behind her had left her undeniably shaken. She turned around, studying him warily. Rather than relief at his presence here, she found herself less than reassured. His pose against the door should have seemed indolent, but gave the impression of barely leashed power. He didn’t offer his hand, and she was fervently grateful. She was oddly reluctant to touch this man, even in greeting.
    “I didn’t bother to call first because your father told me you’d be expecting me,” Mac said. “He’s pretty concerned about your safety, and well he should be. Your home is about as secure as a goldfish bowl in a room full of cats.”
    She put the rag down. “Yes, I have been expecting you. But when Dad called he didn’t mention when you’d be coming.” And he’d also neglected to mention that the security expert he’d hired for her would look right at home on the front line of the Oakland Raiders. Her eyes wandered over him furtively. He had to be all of six feet, and he looked as solid as steel. His shoulders seemed to fill his shirt, to stretch it. His chest was broad, tapering to a narrow waist and hips.
    Realizing her eyes were lingering on those hips, she jerked her gaze to his face. His hair was a thick, glossy brown and shone with occasional highlights from the sunlight that was still streaming into the room. It appeared as if he had forgotten to keep his last couple appointments with his barber. He wore it a little shaggy, but the style seemed to suit him. This wasn’t a man who would ever sport a preppy haircut. He hadn’t had a close encounter with a razor recently, and the masculine stubble on his face did nothing to detract from his tough appearance. His nose had been broken at least once, and judging from the set of that stubborn chin, he’d had it coming.
    The thought put a tilt to her lips, one that quickly faded when she looked