Perhaps she could tell him that her assistant had just called to inform her that her previous principal wanted her to return for another month.
But that would be lying, and she really hated people who lied.
Surely she could handle this.
Deciding to at least give Dr. Knight’s case some time—it would be a hefty paycheck after all, and she wanted to cover her sister’s university tuition—Jocelyn returned to his building and purposefully didn’t stop at the security desk to check in. The guard didn’t say a word. Sure, he might have already seen her come and go once, but that wasn’t good enough for her. She pulled out her Palm Pilot and made note of it, then while she rode the elevator up, checked the red emergency phone, just to make sure it worked.
Donovan leaned back against the kitchen counter and took a sip of his beer. What had he been thinking, hiring a woman on the spot to move into his place and be his bodyguard? His bodyguard!
He should have given it more thought. He usually didn’t make decisions on the spur of the moment, unless they were medical emergencies and circumstances demanded it. When it came to his personal life, he preferred to take three days to mull over a decision, just to make sure he wasn’t acting impulsively.
Which in this case, he most certainly was.
Damn Mark for bringing up the Counseling Center. Mark knew Donovan too well—knew he wouldn’t be able to say no after that. The Center was, after all, the most important thing in his life these days, and he wanted to see it through to the end. A security expert was definitely a sensible idea.
Sensible indeed. While his “expert” had been wandering around the penthouse poking her nose everywhere, all he’d been able to think about was what she would look like naked.
Unfortunately, that last bit weighed a little too heavily in the decision-making process. What could he say? He was a man, and the idea of sharing his penthouse with an attractive woman who didn’t seem to want something from him was an appealing notion. It hadn’t been entirely about her skill as a security expert, though she certainly seemed competent enough, and as much as he’d initially denied it to Mark, he did feel the need for hired protection.
To give himself credit, though, he supposed his decision was something his gut had played a part in. Somehow he’d sensed that Jocelyn Mackenzie was knowledgeable about security and more than capable, and for reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he felt comfortable trusting her—which was a novel concept for Donovan.
The doorbell rang, and he carried his beer with him to answer it.
“That’s the second time you did that,” Jocelyn said as soon as their eyes met.
“Did what?”
“You opened the door without using the optical viewer.”
“The peephole? I knew it was you.”
“How?”
“I knew you were coming right back.” He stepped aside to invite her in.
“I could have been anybody. And your security guard downstairs isn’t a hundred percent reliable, by the way. I’ll deal with that tomorrow, after a few more tests.”
“Tests? What kind of tests?”
“I’m just going to see how easy it is to get by.” With a large, black tote bag slung over her shoulder, she waited in the center of the foyer while Donovan closed the door.
“How do you know I didn’t use the optical viewer?”
“I know. I heard your footsteps and there wasn’t time. Lock that, will you?”
He stared at her a moment, then realized she was right. He hadn’t locked his door, and if she hadn’t mentioned it, he might not have realized it until he went to bed, when he made a point to routinely check locks.
Her intelligent gaze swept the penthouse again. “One of the first things I do is get a feel for the boundaries with new clients. Some people like their privacy and don’t want me to disturb their things, or they want me to stay out of certain rooms. Other people want me anywhere and everywhere, attached to their hip so to speak. What about you, Dr. Knight? Any preferences? Any limits?”
He considered it. Attached at the hip sounded kind of interesting, though he could imagine some other places on her body where he might prefer to be attached.
“No, not really. Go ahead and snoop around, especially if you think it will help you do your job. You can go through my underwear drawer if it turns your crank.”
She glared at him, stone-sober. No giggles. No leaping on an opportunity.
This was new territory for sure.
“The guest room is down here,” he told her, leading the way down the hall, fully aware that she knew exactly where it was. “You know, I’ve never done this before and I’m not sure how to treat you. Like a guest, or an employee.”
“I’m neither. Mostly, treat me like I’m invisible. I’ll take care of myself and try to stay out of your way as much as possible. We’ll go over the contract tomorrow, and I can fill you in more on how I work. But it’s late now, so…”
Donovan reached the door of the guest bedroom and held out his hand for her to enter first. As her tiny body brushed by his in the doorway, he breathed in the scent of her hair again. It smelled fruity, and the fragrance wafted by him and disappeared all too quickly, leaving him feeling a little parched, so to speak.
She glanced at the bottle of beer in his hand. “What happened to the red wine in the fancy crystal glass?”
“My mood changed. You want one?”
She moved all the way into the room and set her bag on the bed. “No, I never drink on duty. You like Canadian beer?”
He looked down at the label. God, she was observant. “Yeah.”
“Me, too. I didn’t take you for a beer drinker, though.” She unzipped her bag, pulled out a baby monitor and an alarm clock, which she set on the bedside table.
“That’s two things then,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Two things that have surprised you about me. Triathlons and beer.”
She smiled noncommittally. “Yeah. Two things.” She pulled out a laptop and set it on the bed, then unraveled the cord and went looking for an outlet.
Donovan continued to stand in the doorway. “Can I get you anything? Towels? Something to eat? If you don’t want a beer, there’s orange juice and Perrier and Coke and…I think there’s ginger ale—”
“I’m fine. If I want anything, I’ll help myself if that’s okay.”
“Sure.” He continued to stand there while she plugged in her computer at the desk.
After a moment, she approached him. “Look, you don’t have to baby-sit me. It’s my job to baby-sit you. I don’t sleep much, so I’ll be working late on some proposals for improvements to your alarm system, and making sure your place isn’t bugged. I’ve got keen ears, and when I do sleep, I generally do it with one eye open, so you can relax and get a good night’s sleep tonight, and not worry so much about being able to reach that baseball bat you’ve got stowed under your bed.”
Donovan slowly blinked. She’d noticed