Rich (Benson Security #5) - Janet Elizabeth Henderson Page 0,39

drive away.

“If I’d wanted to visit a third-world country,” she said, “I’d have gone back to Scotland. Why did I agree to come here with you?”

“I’m still trying to figure that out.” Harvard smiled at her. He wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, which he’d left untucked over faded jeans. If there had been a style called sexy casual, then he’d be the walking embodiment of it.

She, on the other hand, wore a black cocktail dress with a cute flared skirt and her usual heels. Harvard had told her to dress casual and flirty, suggesting she wear jeans. Seeing as she didn’t own any, the dress was the best she could do.

“So, tell me then,” he said. “Why did you agree to come with me tonight? I expected you to put up more of a fight.”

“You were there for our conversation this afternoon, weren’t you? I promised to make more of an effort. I didn’t promise I wouldn’t complain while I did it.”

“And I appreciate it. The effort part, that is.”

Placing a hand on the small of her back, Harvard guided her toward a gate between two rundown tenement buildings. Goodness only knew what she was stepping in as they approached it; there was a distinct lavatory smell to the place.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she said as he opened the gate. “Whatever we’re doing here, there has to be another way we can work on being more physically comfortable with each other. I know, why don’t we go back to my apartment and have sex? It would be more sanitary.”

“As attractive as that proposition is, this will be fun too.” He took Rachel’s hand in his, engulfing hers, the warmth of his touch shooting up her arm. “Besides, you aren’t ready to sleep with me. Yet.” He waggled his eyebrows before stepping in front and leading her down the alley between the buildings.

“Your ego knows no bounds, does it?” she said.

Harvard shrugged. “I’m a big man. I have a big ego.”

She wasn’t going to touch that comment. Instead, she concentrated on following him down the narrow alley without brushing against the walls. Who knew what she’d pick up if she did?

“Is this really necessary?” she asked. “I’m touching you now, and look, no wincing.”

“Yeah, because you’re too worried about catching something from just being in Brixton to worry about anything else.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Rachel, you have issues.”

She honestly couldn’t argue with that, so she said nothing. Without warning, he stopped and turned into a nondescript doorway with something written on it in Spanish. He pushed it open and stepped inside.

“Careful,” he said. “We’re going downstairs.”

“We’re going underground? In Brixton? Are you crazy? There are probably rats.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll protect you.” He was laughing at her.

“I am perfectly capable of protecting myself.”

“Then, you can protect me.”

Irritating man. “And who’ll protect you from me?”

“Rachel, I don’t want to be protected from you. So do your worst; I welcome it.”

Before she could cut his oversized ego down to a more manageable size, he pushed through the door at the bottom of the stairs, and they entered a small cloakroom area.

“Harvard!” A young woman ran around the counter to throw herself at him.

Harvard dropped Rachel’s hand to catch the stranger, annoying her more than was reasonable, but she put it down to being out of her element. Which extended about a two-mile radius from her Kensington home.

“Where have you been?” the woman demanded. “We’ve missed you.” Honestly, if she pouted any harder, Rachel was going to smack her.

“Been doing spy stuff, Jenny. But I’m back now,” Harvard said.

Rachel couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Do you tell everyone you were a spy? Didn’t your government swear you to secrecy?”

He extricated himself from Jenny and wrapped an arm around Rachel’s waist to tug her into his side. “I’m retired. I can tell whoever I like.”

Hmm, now that she thought about it, he never gave any details, and he always joked around about his previous career. No doubt, everyone thought he was making it up. Sneaky man.

“Who’s this?” Jenny asked loudly, and somewhat snarkily, making it clear she had a baby crush on Harvard.

“This is my fiancée,” Harvard said. “Rachel, meet Jenny. Her parents own this club.”

“Fiancée?” Jenny’s voice went into dog-whistle territory.

“Yes,” Rachel gushed. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She’d had enough of the teen. Looking up at Harvard, she patted his stiff, muscled stomach—and he said she never touched him. Honestly, all this drama over nothing. “Come along,