Guarding Raine (Security Ops) Read Free Page B

into his eyes. Unconsciously she drew in a breath and took an involuntary step forward, angling her head for a better look. Narrowed at her now in annoyance, they were a startling shade of blue. Ice blue, the artist in her decided. The exact hue of the ice below the surface of the thick Alaskan glaciers.
    Mac stared at the woman before him. From behind, clad only in that oversize shirt, tight-fitting jeans and barefoot, she’d looked every inch the urchin. But he never would have made the mistake of thinking her a boy if she’d been facing him when he first saw her. The portrait in her father’s office hadn’t shown her in detail, but Mac recognized the delicate features, the straight, dainty nose and pouty mouth from the picture. The long hair was gone, though, and worn nearly as short as his. A very light brown, it was cut in wisps that invited a man’s touch. If it weren’t for those huge, haunted eyes, she’d never draw a second glance.
    “So, Mr. O’Neill,” she interrupted the silence. “I’m sure you’ll want to take a look around and write up some suggestions. I’ll give you time to do that, and we can talk when you’re finished.”
    He would have told her that he’d already started that process if he hadn’t observed the way her gaze flicked to her painting. Irritation filled him anew. He was accustomed to his clients at least hearing him out, but it looked as though he would need to vie for her attention, and damned if he was going to do that.
    “How much time will you need?” she asked, and though she was again looking at him, he could tell her mind was on her work.
    “A couple of hours should do it.”
    “Great.” There was no mistaking the satisfaction in her voice. “While you’re looking around, I’ll take advantage of this light. Oh, and if anyone should stop you, tell them to speak to me.”
    He could have told her that the odds of anyone in this house paying any attention to him were singularly improbable, but she’d already half-turned away, picked up her brush and dabbed it onto her palette. He stared hard at those narrow shoulders, not certain whether to be amused or irritated at his obvious dismissal. After another moment he shook his head wryly and left the room. He’d take the time she’d mentioned, and he’d make those notes. And then he and Miss Raine Michaels were definitely going to have that talk.
    Oh, yeah, they’d talk. And he had a feeling that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say to her. Not one damn bit.
     
    Mac’s solitary investigation of Raine’s property didn’t do much to improve his mood. Although there was evidence that some security efforts had been taken, none of the work seemed recent. There were plenty of outdoor lights installed on the garage. But any third-rate burglar could open her door locks with little effort. As it was, it took Mac less than twenty seconds to pick the dead bolt on her front door, but he credited himself with better than average skills in that area. The back door wouldn’t be a problem, either, although one probably wouldn’t bother to pick the lock. A well-placed kick would splinter it. He studied the antiquated alarm system. He guessed it had been put in at the time the house was built. It had been one of the best systems available when it was installed, but technology changed, and so did the skills of thieves. It would need to be replaced with one much more sensitive.
    Of course, he thought dourly, the best system in the world wasn’t going to do much good if she continued to leave her doors wide open.
    He kept busy jotting down notes for the next couple hours, wandering about the property at will. It wasn’t until late afternoon that someone actually questioned his presence. And the question wasn’t suspicious in nature, but rather interested.
    He’d come into the house after a thorough look at the grounds. In the hallway he came face to face with the blond woman he’d noticed on the phone