CHAPTER ONE

Zach’s fingers tightened around his phone. ‘What the hell, Sarge? No!’
‘Too late, soldier.’
   Gray, Zach’s ex-sergeant from the elite squad he’d served with for eight years, actually used his sergeant’s voice. His sergeant’s voice. Even though when Zach, Gray and Logan had left the army they’d agreed they were equal partners in the business they’d formed—Sentry Protective Services.
   His nostrils flared. ‘You’re not putting me out to grass yet.’ He was still in his prime. He thrust out his jaw. Forty-four was still one’s prime.
   As long as he didn’t dwell too much on how his knee ached after completing the army obstacle course he used for training. Or how his muscles ached for days and the bruises took longer to fade after a bout in the ring with Logan.
   He could still run a mile in under seven minutes. He could do a hundred sit-ups followed by a hundred push-ups without breaking a sweat. He was a lean, mean fighting machine, thank you very much.
    ‘I’m not ready to retire,’ he barked into his phone.
   ‘I’m not talking about retirement, Zach. I’m talking about you stepping up and taking on a more managerial role in the company.’
   He gritted his teeth. ‘I’m not ready to retire from the field. I’m not a darn pen-pusher.’
   ‘Then it’s about time you damn well became one!’
   He blinked.
   ‘Damn it, Zach, I’m not getting any younger.’
   Two damns in as many sentences. Zach’s senses went on high alert.
   ‘We need a succession plan.’
   What on earth…? ‘You’re not sixty yet!’
   ‘And you need to loosen the reins and start letting Brett and Francine head up some of the assignments.’
   Brett and Francine? They were kids!
   He opened his mouth, but before he could speak Sarge barrelled on. ‘Hell, Zach, you need to get a life soon or it’ll be too late.’
   Too late for what?
   His back molars ground together. ‘I have a life, thank you very much.’
   ‘Work isn’t a life—it’s a poor substitute for one. Age is supposed to bring wisdom, but you keep burying your head in the sand. It’s time to stop. And if you won’t see sense on this then you and Logan can buy me out.’
   His head rocked back, his mind racing. Sarge had been due a physical this week. Had he had bad news? Cold sweat bathed his neck. The man was the closest thing he had to a father. He moistened his lips. ‘Look, Sarge—’
   ‘I need you to take this assignment, it’s important to the business. There’s no one else who can do it. They’re expecting you in thirty minutes.’ He repeated the address. ‘Be there.’
   The line went dead.
   Striding out into a crowded London street, Zach hailed a cab, gave the Knightsbridge address to the driver and immediately rang Logan, swearing when the call went to voicemail. He didn’t leave a message, didn’t know how to verbalise the fears chasing through his mind.
   Twenty minutes later he found himself alone in a ground floor room—a library—in one of Knightsbridge’s mansions, waiting to speak to the client. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Logan.
   Striding across to the window to stare out at the massive green square with its immaculate rose garden and towering maple trees, he lifted the phone to his ear. ‘Logan.’
   ‘What’s up?’
   ‘Did Sarge get a bad report on his physical?’
   A heartbeat of silence sounded. ‘Not that I know about. Why?’
   ‘Because he’s pulled me off the South American job for a domestic assignment—a dolly assignment.’ He ground his teeth together so hard he started to shake. He was supposed to be shadowing a South American diplomat who a local militia group were targeting. It was the kind of job that demanded his all—every skill, every instinct, every nerve. The kind of job he loved.
   Air whistled down the line. ‘Pulled rank, huh? Interesting. And Zach, unclench your jaw. You’re going to break a tooth.’
   That was the problem when you worked with people who knew you so well. They knew you.
   ‘Tell me what he said.’
   He repeated the conversation.
   ‘Look, you know he’s been wanting you to bone up on other aspects of the business—’
‘But—’
   ‘And it makes sense. What if one of us gets sick or injured? The others are going to have to step up. You’ve avoided the management side of things for long enough. I’m with Sarge on this one.’
   It took force of will not to clench his jaw again. ‘We always knew where my skills lay. I made no secret of it.’
   ‘Well, maybe it’s time to upskill, buddy. Prove the old adage wrong, prove that you can teach an old dog new tricks.’
   He wasn’t old!
   ‘How can you train others for what you call a dolly assignment when you never take one on? You know they’re our bread and butter. They bring in the money.’
   True, but—
   ‘And you’re going to have to do this for Sarge. You know that, right?’
   That was the kicker. He was going to have to do this.
   ‘Don’t worry, I’m toeing the line. I’m about to meet with the client.’
   ‘I’ll find out what I can about the physical. What job has he put you on?’
   His nose curled. ‘Apparently I have to babysit some pampered little daddy’s girl while she swans around some frivolous socialite scene spending a fortune on hats and shoes while throwing the odd penny to some unnecessary charity or other.’ He had visions of endless garden parties and black-tie events and—
   Oh, God. ‘Just kill me now.’
   Logan’s laugh hooted down the line. ‘You watch your back, mate. From all accounts those society madams can be deadly. Which daddy’s little girl in particular?’
   ‘Plain Jane.’
   He used the press moniker without thinking. Because he was still incensed at being pulled from the South American job. And as a displacement activity, because beneath everything ran a deep fear that all was not well with Sarge, and if anything happened to the older man…
   The delicate sound of a throat clearing in the doorway had him swinging around. He froze. He’d have cursed except his throat had seized up.
   Jane Tierney stood in the doorway, one delicate eyebrow arched. And seeing her for the first time with his own eyes, rather than via random photographs splashed across the papers, plain wasn’t the first word that came to Zach’s mind.
   She hip-swayed into the room. ‘I’ll wear the daddy’s girl comment, and I’ll own to many attempts at swanning—which I almost have down pat, thanks for asking—but I draw the line at unnecessary charities.’ Turning to survey him once more, she sank to the sofa and crossed remarkably shapely legs. ‘And, just so you know, I don’t like hats.’
   Logan swore at the other end of the line, clearly hearing her words too. ‘You smooth this over and make it right, Zach. Her father has influence—a lot of influence. Don’t mess this up for us.’
   ‘Roger that.’ He stuffed his phone in his pocket and tried to formulate an appropriate apology.
   She leaned back, for all the world as composed as a queen. ‘Mr Cartwright, I presume?’ She had a voice like warm honey and sin, and soft caramel eyes that momentarily danced.
He swallowed and nodded, resisting the urge to run a finger around his collar. She deserved an apology and he needed to make it good.
   The laughter melted from her eyes and while he hadn’t thought a smile graced her lips, it melted from them as well. She folded her hands in her lap—the fingers long, the nails short and square. ‘The Plain Jane comment, though, should’ve been beneath you.’
   He dragged a hand down his face. It really should’ve been.
   ‘I’m sorry, Ms Tierney. That was inexcusable. I was angry about something totally unrelated to you.’
   ‘Except for the fact that you apparently now have to babysit me.’
   Fighting a wince, he forged on. ‘And worried about someone I care about.’
   ‘Sarge?’
   How long had she been standing there?
   ‘I directed all of that at you, unfairly. Just…venting. But none of that changes the fact that I shouldn’t have said it.’
   She blinked.
   ‘I’m truly sorry. I hope you’ll accept my apology and let me start again.’
   Sarge had said this job meant a lot to them—so it meant a lot to him. Zach couldn’t mess it up. If he did, he’d never convince the older man that he hadn’t sabotaged the assignment on purpose. His hands clenched. He might be as stubborn as his partners accused him of being, but he wasn’t selfish. At least, he hoped he wasn’t.
   Jane Tierney stared at his clenched hands and a frown marred the smooth skin between her eyes.
   ‘I’m appalled at my lack of professionalism. It won’t happen again, I swear.’
   She leaned back, her shoulders loosening. ‘Oddly enough, I believe you.’
   A pent-up breath eased out of him. Jane Tierney was the daughter of music legend Joey Walter and lauded actress Colleen Clements. Those two, while no longer married, were rarely out of the papers. To call this family high-profile was an understatement. Their daughter mightn’t court the media but she had no hope of avoiding it, no matter how much of a low profile she tried to keep.
   ‘Very well, you’re forgiven.’
   He almost collapsed at the relief and a devilish dimple appeared in one of her cheeks and it made him think she’d deliberately drawn out his punishment to make him suffer.
   If that were the case, it was no more than he deserved. But things inside him sharpened. He’d now need to keep a close eye on her. Not everyone he worked with reconciled themselves to the need for a bodyguard. And if he was being thrust on her against her will, she might try and give him the slip at every available opportunity.
   She might not be in any actual danger, hiring him might be a precautionary measure as it was in ninety-five percent of these cases, but he had every intention of treating the assignment as seriously as any other.
   A low laugh hauled him back. ‘Your face is very easy to read, Mr Cartwright.’
   ‘I make no apology for that. Reading my face could save your life. And please, call me Zach.’
   Those shapely brows lifted. ‘Well, let me put your mind at rest and assure you I’ve no intention of being uncooperative. Please, take a seat.’
   He took the seat she indicated.
   ‘As you can imagine, this isn’t the first time my life has been threatened.’
   He detested men who used violence as a weapon against women. And children. Loathed them. Men like his father, who’d used his fists to get his own way, to punish the voicing of a different opinion, or just because he’d felt the need to blow off steam. Men who took pride in the bruises they placed on the bodies of their wives and children, who laughed for days afterwards when they saw the welts and discolouring and said things like ‘Serves you right’ and ‘You’ll think twice before you open your mouth next time’. He’d love to rid the world of all such men.
   ‘Heavens! I expect that expression might keep me safe too.’
   Her eyes had gone wide and he shook himself back into the present, buried the vicious memories.
   ‘Ms Tierney, what’s different about these particular threats? Why would you call in Sentry rather than have your own team deal with it?’
   Her nose wrinkled. It definitely wasn’t plain. It was kind of cute. And while the face it graced might not be considered conventionally beautiful, it was…
   Sweet?
   Full of character?
   Sexy. The word whispered through him, making things inside him clench in unfamiliar ways. His blood heated and a pulse in his throat burst to life.
   ‘What the hell are the press thinking?’ he burst out. ‘You—’ he pointed a finger at her ‘—are not plain.’
*
He looked as startled by his words as she was, and Janie didn’t know whether to laugh or not.
   The way he looked at her had things inside her melting.
   Oh, stop it!
   She didn’t have time for such nonsense. Or patience for it either. After Sebastian, melting over any man was well and truly off the agenda.
   Thoughts of Sebastian had acid churning in her stomach. The man had played her for a fool. For two years she’d had no idea of his real agenda. Love had made her blind. When she’d found out the truth it had crushed her, had shattered her sense of self-worth and self-esteem. Her self-respect. It had left her feeling as broken and ugly as the thirteen-year-old she’d once been after she’d first heard the tabloids’ reprehensible Plain Jane nickname.
   She pulled in a breath. She wasn’t making that mistake again. She’d learned her lesson. Never again would she give any man the chance to make her feel so small.
   So, no melting!
   All the self-talk in the world, though, couldn’t stop the light in Zach Cartwright’s eyes from making her heart hammer. She’d been shocked at the size of him—a tall, broad man mountain. He wasn’t one of those loose-limbed big guys either, but bristling with… She bit back a sigh. Currently he was bristling with irritation.
   Not fabulous.
   ‘When placed beside my parents, Mr Cart—’
   Blue eyes narrowed.
‘Zach,’ she hastily amended. She needed this man to stop being irritated with her. She needed him to not make her job harder. ‘The fact is, beside my parents most people look plain.’
   He dipped his head. ‘There’s probably something in that.’
   Of course there was. If there was anyone who was an expert on the subject, it was her. Not that she resented them for it.
    ‘People are always surprised when they meet me in the flesh.’
   He didn’t move a muscle, but she felt his wince. She winced too. She hadn’t meant him to take it personally.
   ‘As one esteemed member of the press told me—’ she affected a cockney accent ‘—you’re not a dog’s dinner, miss, but it’s the angles, you see. The camera just doesn’t love you.’
   She watched, fascinated, as one large hand clenched. ‘If I hear anyone speak to you like that, I’ll deck them.’
   ‘You most certainly will not!’ She shot to her feet. ‘As my undercover bodyguard, I need you to be low-key and blend into the background.’
   He stood too. ‘Undercover?’
   She bit back a sigh. He didn’t know?
   ‘With your height, that’s going to be hard to pull off, though, isn’t it?’
   His nostrils flared as if she’d wounded his professional pride. ‘I’m very good at my job, Ms Tierney. If I need to blend in then that’s exactly what I’ll do. And I’ll do it well.’
   This man would always stand out in the crowd. Always. And she should probably tell him to call her Janie, but… She recalled the words he’d spat into his phone and had to stop her shoulders from inching up towards her ears. He didn’t want to be here. He’d made that abundantly, if unintentionally, clear. She either had to get him onside or get rid of him.
    She moved a step closer, peered up into his face. ‘What does my father have on you?’
   Those compelling eyes narrowed again. ‘What do you mean?’
   ‘My father is many things, Mr Cartwright.’ He opened his mouth, but she held up her hand. ‘I know you prefer Zach, but Mr Cartwright just rolls off the tongue. I enjoy saying it. And it still feels friendly, while being more respectful than Zach.’
   One side of his mouth kicked upwards. ‘Whatever turns you on, Ms Tierney.’
   If she’d been drinking anything she would’ve choked, but then noted the teasing light in his eyes and had to bite back a grin.
   ‘Your father is many things?’ he prompted.
   ‘And where I’m concerned, one of those things is overprotective.’
   ‘I’m reliably informed that’s a fault of many fathers.’
   She digested that in silence. His father hadn’t been like that? ‘If my father has a weak spot, it’s me. The thought of me being harmed is his worst nightmare.’
   ‘And again, I’d say—’
   ‘Yes, yes, I know. But most fathers don’t have the money, power or reach of Joey Walter “King of Crooners” Tierney.’
   ‘Ah.’ Big hands rested against lean hips and just for a moment Janie found herself bombarded with unbidden—forbidden—images.
   Her mouth went dry. Recent events had proven to her how wrong she could be about a man, and that begged the question: What else in her life had she been wrong about? She needed to keep a clear head. She wasn’t letting hormones get in the way of all she needed to achieve.
   Not when she had so much to achieve.
   Strolling away a few paces to put some much-needed distance between herself and Zach’s overpowering physicality, she turned and spread her hands. ‘When his baby chick is threatened…’
   He didn’t say anything. He didn’t even move—not so much as a flicker of an eyelash.
Fine, she’d spell it out. ‘Joey Walter will do whatever he deems necessary to keep me safe—and happy,’ she added because her father hadn’t crossed that line yet. ‘You clearly don’t want to be here. So what I’m wondering is how has my father convinced you to take on this job?’
   Those blue eyes shifted from the middle distance back to her. ‘I’ve had no communication with your father so far.’
   ‘So it’s your boss then.’
   ‘Business partner.’
   ‘What does my father have on your business partner?’
   ‘I’ve no idea. Hopefully, nothing. But if he does, I’m going to find out what it is.’
   The way he said it had gooseflesh breaking out on her arms. ‘You don’t know much about this job yet, do you?’
   ‘No.’
   No explanation accompanied the single word. He was cagey. In other circumstances she’d consider that an asset.
   ‘Well, you’re about to find out as there’s a strategy meeting starting in—’ she glanced at her watch and swore ‘—two minutes. I was hoping to fill you in on most of it myself, but we were side-tracked. We’d better head up to the boardroom. And we’d better get a move on.’
‘Your house has a boardroom?’
   ‘Tut-tut, Mr Cartwright, this is a complex—an entity unto itself—not a house.’
   She led him up the stairs and took the corridor to the left in the direction of her father’s business centre. Halting several feet short of the door, she swung around. Before she’d thought better of it, she seized his forearms. ‘Can I ask you a favour?’
   His brow pleated. ‘Of course.’
   The corded flesh beneath her fingertips pulsed with heat and power, immediately sensitising her to the fact that this was a hot-blooded man—an attractive hot-blooded man—who she was currently manhandling. She snatched her hands away.
   His frown deepened. He leaned close until his lips were only a hair’s breadth from her ear. ‘Are you in danger here, Jane?’
   ‘Janie,’ she automatically corrected. Closing her eyes, she hauled in a breath and tried to control her runaway pulse. The man was simply doing his job. ‘No,’ she forced out from uncooperative lips. ‘At least, nothing a bodyguard would consider a danger.’ Or could help her with.
   ‘The favour?’
   Straightening her spine, she forced her shoulders back. ‘The project I’m about to embark on is really important to me. I don’t have time to explain what it is now, but you’ll find out soon enough. It’s just…’ Her hands twisted together. ‘If you hate the thought of it, and if you don’t think you can do it justice, will you please bow out?’
   He dragged a hand down his face. ‘If your father is blackmailing my business partner…’
   Her stomach churned. His loyalty lay there, not with her. And she couldn’t blame him for it, but—
   ‘I promise you, though, that I’ll keep you safe.’
   ‘I don’t want to be kept safe,’ she hissed. ‘I want to win!’
   Before he could respond, the door flew open and her father stood there, beaming at her. ‘I thought I heard voices. You’re just in time, just in time.’
   She submitted when he pulled her into a bear hug.
   ‘How is my princess this morning?’
   ‘Hi, Dad.’ She kissed his cheek and then gestured to the man beside her. ‘This is Zach Cartwright.’
   Her father’s paternal affability fell away as he made a long study of her potential bodyguard, taking his time as he sized him up, noting all of Zach’s…potential. Zach, unlike most of the men subjected to her father’s scrutiny, stood there unmoving and stared back, not a single emotion crossing his impressive face.
   And it hit her in that moment that Zach’s face was indeed as impressive as his size. He had regular features—a firm mouth that had an intriguing fullness to the lower lip, a strong square jaw and a nose slightly bent as if it had once been broken, which saved that face from being too pretty, too perfect. Short chestnut hair completed the package. She found herself wondering what that hair would look like if he grew it out a little.
   ‘Well, at least he looks big enough to take a bullet for you, pumpkin.’ He didn’t offer to shake Zach’s hand, but turned and headed back into the boardroom.
   Janie rolled her eyes. ‘Zach also has a sense of humour, which I consider a necessity in a bodyguard,’ she called after him.
   Just for a moment, blue eyes flashed with humour and Janie thought Zach might actually grin, but it was all quickly contained, his face becoming impassive again. This man rarely smiled.
   ‘You can come and sit up here with me, princess.’
   Nuh-uh. She wasn’t allowing her father to infantilise her in front of all the people gathered in this room. She wanted—needed—Zach to respect her. Instead, she took the next seat on the left at the bottom of the long oval table, gesturing for Zach to take the seat opposite.
   Gathered around the table were her father, his two PAs, the head of their own security detail and her usual bodyguard. She didn’t know the man beside her, but she caught the look Zach exchanged with him.
   The man turned, held out his hand. ‘I’m Gray Garrison, Zach’s business partner.’
   Sarge? She shook it.
   ‘Gray will be coordinating everything from a home base, the location of which, of course, is yet to be decided,’ Joey Walter said.
   ‘Before we discuss that…’ Janie folded her hands lightly on the table. ‘Can we have a sensible discussion about whether this level of security is actually necessary?’
   ‘Pumpkin, if you insist on continuing with this hare-brained scheme, it’s absolutely necessary. Non-negotiable.’
   ‘Three things, Father.’ Joey Walter’s eyes narrowed. He hated it when she called him Father, considered it too formal. ‘One, the scheme is not hare-brained. Two, in business meetings you will refer to me as Janie or Jane.’
   ‘Now listen here, pump—’
   ‘Joey Walter!’ He hated it even more when she called him by his name. Their eyes clashed and she was aware of the man opposite taking in this silent battle of wills.
   ‘And three?’ her father grumbled.
   ‘Security is not your area of expertise. Let Gray and Zach assess the information, and then we’ll listen to their recommendations for the most appropriate action plan.’
   Her father merely hmphed and gestured to one of his PAs, who rose and distributed copies of the three threatening letters Janie had so far received. Janie refused her set. She’d read them once. She didn’t need to read them again.
   She watched Zach as he scanned the letters, his face growing sterner and grimmer. ‘These are ugly.’
   Ugly and frankly terrifying. She managed to maintain a stiff upper lip. ‘The writer has quite an imagination.’ The things the author of those letters threatened to do to her were vile. Very carefully, she folded her hands on the table. ‘And yet threats are made against my father, my mother and me all the time. Should we give these letters more credence than any of the others?’
   ‘We can’t ignore the fact that these might have a personal element,’ Gray said beside her. ‘They might not, but the threats are…unusually specific.’
   ‘I wouldn’t want to take that chance either,’ Zach agreed.
   Not what she wanted to hear. But after a glance at those letters she suppressed a shudder and nodded. ‘Okay. As I said, you guys are the experts. So now to my next question.’ Joey Walter opened his mouth, but her glare silenced him. She had Zach and Gray’s full attention. ‘Is it necessary for someone to actually be on set with me?’
   ‘What do you mean, on set?’ Zach leaned towards her, everything about him going on high alert. He drew the eye like a neon-lit billboard. How on earth would they ever convince an audience he wasn’t anything other than what he was—a bodyguard?
   ‘My darling daughter,’ Joey Walter drawled, ‘has agreed to take part in a reality TV show where contestants vie for a million pounds in prize money.’
   ‘To be donated to the charity of their choice,’ she inserted.
   Zach’s jaw tightened. ‘And what do you have to do to win this prize money?’
   ‘For charity,’ she stressed again. She didn’t want him forgetting that. ‘The show is called Renovation Revamp: The Resort Brief.’ Which she thought pretty self-explanatory. ‘It involves renovating and styling a rundown resort in a glamorous location.’ Pulling in a breath, she did what she could to calm the nerves fluttering in her stomach. ‘There are six teams, and six different locations.’
   ‘Where’s your resort located?’
   ‘It hasn’t been decided yet. That happens during the filming of episode one.’
   He held the fistful of letters up. ‘You’re seriously going to go ahead with that after receiving these?’
   ‘Absolutely.’ She gestured to herself and her father. ‘If we let every threatening letter we receive frighten us we’d never leave the house. I can’t live my life that way, Mr Cartwright. I refuse to.’
   And she had too much to prove to walk away from this opportunity now.