The bellboy parked the bed where indicated and left the room before Fiona spoke again.

“You’re not staying,” she said.

“Relax. You’ll barely know I’m here.”

Like hell. He was all she could focus on. His broad shoulders practically filled the room, making it feel smaller with each breath she inhaled. “Look, I’m not happy about this situation. I like my space and, frankly, you’re invading it.”

“I’m here for the job, sweetheart, not you. Besides…” he cupped her cheek with his big, callused hand, “…you’re not my type.”

The warmth of his hand on her face made her want to lean into his palm, until his words hit her like a splash of chilled water. She straightened away from that dratted hand. “What do you mean?”

“About the job or the type?” He grinned, raising her ire another notch.

“Not your type? Just what is your type?”

His grin broadened, those full, kissable lips doing funny things to her insides. “Well, you got part of it right earlier. The naked part. But I also like my women willing.” He winked, grabbed his duffle bag and dropped it on the rollaway. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to pay a visit to my buddy with the dogs.”

“And I have to head over to my office for an hour or two.” She glanced around the room again before shooting a narrow-eyed glare at him. “Don’t touch my things.”

He gave her mock salute. “Yes, ma’am.”

“And don’t call me ma’am. I’m not that old.”

“Yes, ma’am. I mean…Fiona.” He cupped her cheek again and leaned in until his lips hovered over hers. “A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

Knowing it was all wrong but unable to stop herself, she leaned closer until their lips connected. A jolt of electricity shot through her, instantly heating places she’d thought cold for a long time.

Wyatt’s hand slipped behind her neck and he applied pressure, his mouth taking hers in a deep, satisfying kiss.

When his tongue swept across hers, she opened eagerly, her tongue greeting his hungrily. Her brain disengaged and her body took over. Fiona slid her hands up his chest. When she should have been shoving him away, she linked her fingers behind his neck and pressed her breasts to his chest. She slid her leg up the back of his, her pussy pressing against the thick muscle of his thigh, an ache building deep in her core.

Wyatt’s hands slipped beneath her shirt and up her ribs, his thumbs brushing against her breasts. In that moment, she wished she was as naked as she’d been at their earlier meeting. The way he touched her made the bones in her legs dissolve. Why did he have to be so damned attractive with his muscular body and high-and-tight haircut? Couldn’t the government find a white-haired old man to oversee the security of this shindig? She could handle that.

When he broke off the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers and chuckled. “I didn’t see that coming.”

Knowing she was as much at fault for initiating that kiss as he was, she stepped away, scrubbing her hands down the front of her skirt. If he hadn’t backed off first, where would that kiss have led? Butterfly wings beat against the insides of her belly and her glance darted to the bed, and a sharp pull of longing swelled inside. This was wrong on so many levels. She wasn’t sure how sharing a room with Wyatt would turn out, but it couldn’t end up good.

Or it could end up way too good… Her insides tightened and a thrill of anticipation raced through her body. How long had it been since she’d had sex?

No, this was not how she envisioned this event starting.

Eager to get to the office and out of the overwhelming presence of Wyatt Magnus, she moved toward the door. “Gotta go.”

“Me too.”

She held up her hand. “For the sake of sanity, give me a head start. I need some time to think.”

“As you wish, darlin’,” he said with a serious poker face. Then he ruined it with a sexy grin. “Hopefully, you’ll spend some time thinking of me.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back at him. Then she made a dash for the elevator before he could see the blush rising in her cheeks, or notice how she couldn’t keep her gaze off him. Fiona knew what lay beneath the clothing and the thought of him lying in a bed near hers, possibly naked… Well, it didn’t bear imagining. Nothing was going to happen. She had far more serious things to worry about than if he would make a pass at her. Or worse…that he wouldn’t make a pass.

As she stepped into the elevator, she shot a glance down the hallway. Wyatt stood at the doorway of their room, a smile still fixed to his face that broadened when her gaze met his.

Damn. He’d caught her staring.

A warm, rich chuckle filled the hallway, like he knew the secret of what was to come later that night.

Fiona dove into the elevator, her cheeks burning, a place farther south flaming to life.

Holy hell. How was she going to get through the next few days with Wyatt Magnus’s larger than life body to bump into everywhere she turned?

Wyatt was still grinning as he closed the door behind him and made certain it was securely locked and then adjusted his jeans. His groin was far too tight, but it had been worth the kiss to see the event planner’s reaction. He’d made the calm, cool and efficient Fiona Allen run like a frightened rabbit. Oh yeah, he had definitely made an impression on her. Good. Because she’d made an equal one on him and he needed to shake it off so he could see to the security of the convention.

Sleeping in the same room with the fiery redhead would be a challenge. If he planned on sleeping. The real challenge would be to get her to agree to share her bed with him. A couple nights with Fiona ought to get him back on track sexually.

Rather than take the elevator, he headed for the stairwell, jogging down the steps until he reached the garage level. His Jeep was where he’d left it and he climbed in, pulling out his cell phone. Before he put the shift in gear, he dialed Joe.

“Dogs are Heroes, Joe speaking.”

“Joe, Wyatt Magnus here.”

“Wyatt, you old bulldog, what are you doing in town?”

A flash of guilt washed over Wyatt. He’d been in town for weeks and this was his first call to his friend. “It’s a long story, but I need your help with bomb-sniffing dogs at the downtown convention center.”

“What the hell? Did you quit the Army?”

“No, no. I’m on loan to Homeland Security to provide oversight for the security of the International Trade Convention.”

“I thought you were in Ethiopia or Somalia or some other godforsaken country.”

“I was. It’s part of that long story I’ll fill you in on later.” He sighed. “In the meantime the convention starts tomorrow night and I want to make sure the threats we’ve been getting don’t happen.”

“Wow, who’d you piss off to get that assignment?”

Wyatt chuckled. “It’s temporary. So what do you say? Do you have the resources?”

“Sure. I’m on the tail end of training fifteen dogs to be used at airports with the TSA. I can have them loaded and delivered by morning.”

“Good. Can you meet me in an hour at the convention center to discuss the plan with the security firm the planner hired?”

“Which security firm?”

“Lone Star Security.”

“They come highly recommended,” Joe confirmed. “I haven’t heard anything bad about their work. But you never know when you’ll get a bad egg waiting to explode.”

“Right. That’s where you and your canines come into it.”

“Keeping everyone on the up and up.”

“We’ve already had one incident with the Columbian delegate. Shots were fired at his limousine.”

“I heard about that on the police scanner.”

“All the more reason for you to meet me at the convention center.”

“I’ll be there.” Joe told Wyatt what entrance he’d be at and rang off.

Wyatt dug out the card Fiona had given him for the person in charge of the convention center security team for the next few days. Preston Jones.

He keyed the numbers and waited for the man to pick up on the other end. While he waited, he scanned the parking lot of the hotel. If they wanted to keep the delegates safe, he needed to check with hotel security. It wouldn’t hurt to add a few guards to the mix. And he’d check out the cameras to ensure all were functioning and monitored.

Someone exited the building and walked quickly to a shiny black Mustang convertible. By the twitch of her skirt and the long, flowing red curls hanging down her back, there was no mistaking Fiona Allen.

Wyatt’s pulse quickened and he couldn’t tear his gaze away from her as she slid into the sports car and drove past him.

“Lone Star Security, Preston Jones speaking.”

The male voice in his ear brought Wyatt back to the task at hand and he introduced himself.

“I’ve been expecting your call,” Preston said. “I cleared my afternoon to meet with you and show you what we’ve done to get ready.”

“I’m headed to the convention center now.”

“I can meet you there in fifteen minutes.”

“Good.” Wyatt hung up and shifted his Jeep into drive, pulling out of the parking garage into the glare and heat of the south Texas sunshine.

Now that he had his meetings set up, he could get to work. The sooner this convention was over, the sooner he could get back to his real job with the Special Operations command.

When the convention was over, he’d leave San Antonio. A quick fling with the pretty little redhead wouldn’t hurt in the meantime. It would get his motor revved and his spirits up. Yeah, a quick affair with the redhead might be just what the shrink ordered.