Dangerous Promise Read online

  It wasn’t that she could feel nothing at all, he knew that, but it made complete sense that anything beyond the mildest range of feelings would be blocked or controlled by the same tech that adjusted the rest of her body’s functions. The question was why did the tech work that way in Nina, but not in all of them? What set her apart from the rest?

  Because she was different, Ewan thought. Different than the others. Different from any other woman he’d ever known.

  The look on her face had made the entire morning’s worth of effort totally worth it. He’d had the staff set the table with the fancy china he usually saved for dinner parties. Candles with a real wick and flame, not the battery-operated sort most people used now that the diminishing bee population made beeswax so hard to come by. The soft, golden light glinted off the cut crystal glassware as well as the tiny diamond chips around the rims of the plates.

  Nina ran a fingertip around one of them and looked at him. “Used to be a time when a plate like this would’ve cost you so much money you wouldn’t have dared eat off it.”

  “I don’t spend my money on things I can’t use,” he told her. “No matter how pretty they are.”

  She glanced up at him with a quick grin. “Uh-huh.”

  “Always the double entendre with you,” he said, but the truth was, he liked the way she teased him. How had that happened? “Anyway, the jam spoon impressed you so much, I figured it was time to really go all out.”

  “Maybe I’m not that easy to impress.”

  Ewan pulled out the chair and gestured for her to sit. “Are you saying you’re hard?”

  “That’s not usually me, no.”

  Too late, he realized he’d opened himself up to another play on words. Nina chuckled and took her seat, waiting as he pushed it in for her. She glanced at him over her shoulder . . . and damn it, his cock twitched. For a moment, Ewan’s fingers clutched at the back of her chair as he itched to run his hands over her shoulders.

  Instead, he took his own seat and waited until the server had poured them both glasses of wine and left the room before he answered. “I thought you deserved some recognition and appreciation.”

  “For doing my job?”

  “For everything you’ve been through,” Ewan said.

  “So you’re going to feed me?” Her laugh sounded genuine, if still the tiniest bit strained.

  After their conversation and the news earlier this morning, Ewan had researched Allan Hendricks. There’d been nothing in any of the media about him having a relationship with Nina, although there were several pictures of them together at some of the early publicity events from before the worldview about the enhancement tech changed, when the fifteen soldiers had been paraded around like prize sheep. Ewan didn’t want to admit how thoroughly he’d scoured the photos, looking for any signs of them being a couple. One shot had Hendricks’s hand resting on Nina’s lower back.

  Ewan had stared at that one for a long time, hating how angry it made him.

  Unlike his own social media legacy, however, beyond whatever he could dig up about Nina in the early days after the public reveal, he could find next to nothing more recent about her. If he’d known the names of her clients, he could have searched them to catch a glimpse of her in the background, but most of them appeared to have been as concerned with anonymity and discretion as Ewan was. He had the assets and contacts to dig deeper, but so far, he hadn’t.

  Nina deserved her own privacy. Also, respect. Consideration. She deserved better, he thought now, watching her unfold the soft cloth napkin and lay it on her lap.

  “As much as you can eat,” he said.

  Her laugh softened at that. Right there in front of him, she blossomed like a flower in the desert that had just been watered. “You sure about that? I can eat a lot. What’s on the menu?”

  He’d done his research, as best he could, to find out her favorites. It had taken researching way back into her hospital records to see what meals she’d requested most. What he’d done hadn’t been exactly legal or ethical, but it wouldn’t be the first time he’d bent the rules to accommodate himself.

  “Steak. Potatoes. Garlic bread . . .” He stopped at her quizzical look. “Or I could have the cook make you something else?”

  “Real steak?”

  He hadn’t had anything but real beef in so long, it hadn’t occurred to him that she might question what he was serving. “Yes. Of course.”

  “I haven’t had real steak in ages. Only synthbeef, and really, I think I’d rather just not bother.” She rubbed her stomach with a grin. “Real steak, Ewan?”

  “The kinds of company you’ve kept, I didn’t think it would be such a big deal.” He pressed the service button to start the courses arriving.

  Nina rolled her eyes in an expression he was rapidly finding both familiar and endearing. “This may come as a surprise to you, but even though it’s understood that I am always to be in the same room with them, most of my clients have not invited me to sit at the table with them to actually share a meal.”

  “That’s . . .”

  “Common,” she finished for him when he could not find the right words to convey how appalled he was.

  “Insulting,” he said.

  Nina rolled her shoulders in a small shrug. “Not really. You’re paying me to keep you safe. You’re required to feed me, but nothing says you have to do it with grand fanfare. Anyway, some people like to posture and having me stand behind them while they eat, being all intimidating and stuff, it makes them happy. Whatever the client wants. Did you invite your other bodyguards to eat at your table?”

  “I never had any of them living with me, they only attended public events.” He sat back to allow the server to settle the platter of meat and potatoes in front of him. “It never occurred to me not to let you sit at my table. You never mentioned it was unusual.”

  “You think I was going to turn down that strawberry jam? You’re crazy. Besides, I’m so easy to get along with, what was I going to do. Argue?” She gave him a look of such wide-eyed innocence all he could do was laugh.

  He gave her one of his own. “You? Argue? You, be . . . dare I say it, bossy?”

  “No, no, no.” She shook her head, waving a hand but staying out of the way so the server could put a thick steak on her plate for her, along with a fat baked potato glistening with butter and herbs. “I’ll need another one of those, please. And ooh. Rolls.”

  When the server gave her another, she continued, “I respectfully beg to differ, Mr. Donahue. You’re the boss.”

  “I like it better when you call me Ewan,” he said.

  Nina’s brow crinkled. “Huh. Yeah?”

  “Yeah. It’s nicer.”

  “Fine. Ewan. See?” She added in an arch tone, “I’m super amenable and easy to get along with.”

  “Unless I ask you to leave me alone while I go to the bathroom.” He dug into his steak with a small murmur of delight at the flavor. “You’re right. Synthbeef is a waste of time.”

  “Says the man who can afford real steak.” She cut a slice of her own steak and tucked it into her mouth with a noise louder and more sensual than his had been.

  His heart skipped at the sound of it. Watching Nina enjoy her food with such obvious and pure delight put ideas in Ewan’s head that didn’t need any help to bloom. In the time she’d been here, spending every waking and sleeping moment with him, her ability to selectively shutter her gaze against his nakedness had been fine for showering and bathroom functions. He had not, however, had any time for . . . well. While unpartnered, Ewan had been used to taking care of himself on a daily or semi-daily basis. His waking erections had grown increasingly fierce and were taking longer to go away. Now, thinking of it, he had to shift in his chair with a discreet tug at the crotch of his trousers.

  Nina glanced at him, brow furrowing. “You okay?”

  “Yes. Of course.” He stabbed a knife into his own steak, cutting it into bite-sized pieces.

  Nina nodded and took a for