The Mogul and the Muscle: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy
Claire Kingsley
About this book
“I wanted this man’s arms around me, cocooning me in safety. I wanted to feel like I didn’t have to be brave for a few hours. I wanted to let him be my courage. My protection. My shield.”
Cameron Whitbury—billionaire aerospace mogul—can engineer her way out of any problem. Sure, she’s living with the threat of a potential sex scandal thanks to her lying ex. And that attempted mugging in her parking garage might not have been a random attack.
But she’s totally got this. Sacrifice her privacy to an overprotective bodyguard? No thanks. She doesn’t need a six-foot-five, motorcycle-riding, square-jawed, hazel-eyed man-beast shadowing her every move.
Jude Ellis—one-man security operation and professional problem solver—is ready to retire from the cloak and dagger stuff to live a normal life. He doesn’t need another client. Not even one with coppery-red hair and mile-long legs who looks hot AF in a sexy pair of heels.
To appease her worried friends, Cameron hires Jude as her bodyguard. And despite their feisty banter and their rampant—and totally inappropriate—sex fantasies, they’re both determined to keep it professional.
But as the danger to Cameron escalates, the heat simmering between them just might combust.
Author’s note: Big wall-of-man hero with a fierce (and growly) protective streak. Confident and snarky heroine. All the banter. Sex in a closet. And a daring rescue with a big, heart squishing HEA.
1
Jude
The kid knew he was screwed.
He sat slumped in the chair, his eyes on the floor. Head tilted forward, shoulders drooping. I hadn’t needed to lay a finger on him. Kind of a shame, in a way. Not that I wanted to beat the shit out of a twenty-two-year-old kid, but…
Actually, yes I did.
I stood in his father’s study leaning against the huge mahogany desk. The walls were paneled with dark wood, and bookshelves housed leather-bound legal tomes. A credenza sat behind the desk with a crystal decanter and a set of bar glasses. There was even an oil-painted portrait of some stuffy old guy on the wall. This place couldn’t have been more pretentious if it tried.
Hauling the kid in here hadn’t been difficult. After a week of research and surveillance on behalf of my client, I’d nailed down his routine. Grabbed him outside the luxury Miami Beach condo his parents undoubtedly paid for.
Footsteps approached the half-open door and the kid flinched. Norman Cudello, Florida state senator, walked in dressed in a designer suit. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly groomed, his jaw smooth. He saw me first and stopped just inside the study. Then his gaze traveled to his son—Owen Cudello—and I caught the flicker of annoyance.
“Who are you?” Senator Cudello asked, his voice betraying nothing but disinterest.
“Jude Ellis.” I kept my posture casual. Relaxed. I could be physically intimidating if it was necessary. At six-foot-five and almost as wide as I was tall, it was harder to appear non-threatening than it was to scare people.
But it was always better when I didn’t have to. If I threatened violence, I had to be willing to back that up. And I was really hoping to get out of here without getting any blood on my shirt. I had a date this afternoon.
“And why are you in my study?”
“We need to have a little chat.”
“About?”
Your dipshit son, genius. I nodded toward the kid. “Him.”
The senator walked around his desk and flipped over a whiskey glass. “I’m sure we can come to a suitable arrangement.”
I narrowed my eyes but kept my posture relaxed. Of course the first thing he’d do is offer money. I hadn’t expected anything less, but it still irritated me. “I’m not here to make that kind of arrangement.”
“Then what are you here for?” he asked. “You’re obviously not law enforcement.”
“No, I’m not.” I straightened to my full height. “It seems your son has a bit of a problem understanding English. Specifically the word no.”
The kid didn’t look up.
“Oh?” his father asked.
“About six months ago, the young lady he’d been dating, Mira Salinas, informed him that their brief relationship was over. Instead of handling it like a man, he chose to start stalking and harassing her.”
The senator poured a finger of whiskey in the glass but didn’t reply.
“Hundreds of texts, messages on her social media accounts, notes on her car. Hanging out at the restaurant where she works. Circling the block around her apartment building. You get the idea.”
He took a drink of whiskey.
“That failed to charm her, though I can’t imagine why—what girl wouldn’t want to date a guy who stalks her?” I glared at the kid. “So now he’s trying to use dear old dad’s connections to get her kicked out of school. He even got someone in the university’s administration to send her a warning of expulsion if she goes to the media.”
“If this is all true, why hasn’t she gone to the police?” he asked, his voice smooth.
“That’s where it gets complicated, isn’t it? Cops didn’t take her seriously. I can’t imagine it has anything to do with the fact that he’s the son of a prominent senator.”