DeVries wouldn’t. Considering the faded leathers he wore, the bouncers might not even let him in. Nope. He was a total loser. Jerk. Asshole. She took another sip of her drink. No more thinking about the creep.

When Simon reached the table, he slid his fingers into Rona’s hair, tugged her head back, and the possessive kiss he gave her made Lindsey’s chest ache.

She loved knowing her friend had such an affectionate, territorial husband, even if it emphasized how alone Lindsey was. Yanking her gaze away, she bent over, looking for her purse. They shouldn’t keep their designated driver waiting, especially since he’d been nice enough to come inside to get them.

To her surprise, Simon dragged a chair from the next table and sat between her and Rona. He lifted Rona’s glass. “Should I even ask how many of those drinks you’ve had—let alone what they are?”

Rona smiled. “I think it’s best you don’t know.”

Simon took a sip and winced. “You have a point, lass.” His laugh was dark and easy, like a smooth scotch as opposed to deVries’s rotgut, harsh laugh.

So why did Lindsey crave deVries’s?

Simon set the drink down with a thump and turned to Lindsey.

She flushed as she was treated to the intent regard of one of Dark Haven’s most experienced Doms. “Rona says you’re job hunting,” Simon said.

Lindsey couldn’t help the accusing look she sent her friend. Discussions between the women were supposed to be secret. Well, okay, job hunting wasn’t particularly confidential, but still…

Simon’s lips quirked. “Maybe I can help your search, since Xavier and I know quite a few business owners. Have you attended college or taken any training?”

God, how could she explain? Her thoughts tangled as she backtracked through the lies she’d used. Should use. Had she told Rona—

“Lindsey?”

Under his dark, intimidating gaze, she blurted out the truth. “I have a master’s degree in social work.”

Abby gasped.

“I’d only been working for a couple of months when”— when I fled, leaving everything behind—“when I left Texas.” Just ahead of being arrested for murder.

Simon frowned. “With that kind of background, why are you a receptionist?”

“I…I don’t want to be found.”

“The divorce was bad? Did he try to hurt you?”

Divorce. Abby and Rona must have disclosed her lies. If only an angry ex-husband was all she was running from. She shivered. “Oh yes.”

Simon’s eyes narrowed…as did Rona’s.

Abby put a warm hand on Lindsey’s forearm.

Aw heck, she was making a hash of this. Lying wasn’t in her skill set. “I think eventually he’ll forget about me.” Her assumption was valid…since he was dead. Regrettably Victor’s brother was the police chief; he’d never forget. “Meantime, I’m playing it safe”—real safe. Even her name and social security number were falsified—“and not leaving a trail by requesting school records or résumés. Instead, I take crummy jobs.”

After another moment of study, Simon moved his chair, positioning himself knee to knee with Lindsey. He took her hands in his heavily callused ones. His eyes were steady. “Tell me about your work experience.”

She glared at Rona. “Next time you arrange an interview, would you set it up for before I’ve been drinking?”

Rona and Abby burst out laughing.

Simon’s fingers tightened. “Answer me.”

God, the low command sent a quiver down her to her toes. His gaze stayed on her face as she swallowed against the sudden dryness.

Be honest. Don’t put him on the spot with his friends. “Okay, it’s like this. I think I’m good at counseling, and people who worked with me said I was great.” On the other hand, she’d only had a couple of months’ experience. “As a receptionist, I did well enough, even though I hadn’t used some of the software. My boss says she’ll be happy to give me a reference.”

Her sister had scolded her before for being too modest. Had said she should never run herself down.

Someone else had no problem making her feel like scum. “Debt paid.” Damn deVries.

“I might not have much office experience; however, I learn quickly, I’m smart, I’m organized, and I’m good with people.” There, that sounded nice. Maybe too boastful?

Simon squeezed her fingers and let her go. “Very well laid out. I’ve seen how easily you handle the desk at Dark Haven.” His measured gaze moved over her, as if weighing her in his mind. “Let’s try this. My executive assistant needs to work part-time for a couple of weeks. She hasn’t found anyone in-house to assist her—at least not one she likes. Possibly she’d get along better with a smarter, less experienced person. Would you like a crack at it?”

Her ears followed his words; her brain lagged behind. The fact her lungs ceased working didn’t help. After a second, she wheezed, “Did you just offer me a job?”

“This is the first time I’ve interviewed someone in a bar, let alone an applicant who wasn’t remotely sober.” His mouth curved up. “Yes, Lindsey, I offered you the chance to see if you can impress my admin. If you can’t, no harm done. Either way, I’ll help find you something. However, this would bring you in some money while you’re searching for a better match.”

“It’ll work,” she promised him and a smiling Rona. It will damn well work.

Two hours later, a horrifying thought brought her upright in bed.

DeVries worked for Simon.

Chapter Five

On Friday, deVries stepped off the elevator at the eleventh floor and walked around the corner. He’d gone straight to the Demakis offices after a long week of bodyguarding the prissiest, bitchiest movie star he’d ever met. And he’d met quite a few. He’d thought he was fairly easygoing, well, not really—but Jesus, by the time the week ended, he’d considered paying her stalker to take her out.

To top it off, she’d thrown a tantrum at his announcement he was leaving. When his replacement, Marley, looked as if she were considering walking out, damned if he hadn’t fled like a wimp.

As he shoved open the door to the offices of Demakis International Security, he shook off his irritation. At least he’d be in San Francisco for a while. He could visit Dark Haven tonight and find someone to play with. Maybe johnboy or HurtMe. Or Dixon might be available, even if the submissive couldn’t take as much pain.

After a good S/M session, deVries could fuck his brains out with a willing female.

His mouth tightened as he remembered the previous week. The innocent-looking, cute…money-grubbing…submissive. Been years since a woman had taken him in so thoroughly. Yeah, she was good. Might even have a bit of a conscience left, considering the guilt on her face when he’d asked if her ex was in a ritzy place like hers.

Did some women have a biological glitch making them more mercenary than men? They might appear loyal at first, but wave a wad of cash in front of them and some would sell out their own kin.

Or, in the case of his mother, her son.

As he stepped into the reception area, he stopped abruptly. “What the fuck?”

Lindsey, the Texan with a calculator for a heart, sat at the admin’s desk. “Mr. deVries.” Expressionless, no light in her wide brown eyes. Her voice was icy. “Mr. Demakis said you were to go straight in when you arrived.”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Working. Do you have a problem with that?”

“Guess so.” He set his hands palm-down on the desk and leaned into Lindsey’s space. “I don’t like you.”

The tiny lines around her eyes flinched, but she didn’t move. Didn’t evade his gaze. Didn’t display fear, and he had to give her props for that. A pity she’d be afraid very shortly when he—

“Zander, I’m glad you’re back,” Simon said from behind him. “How did you enjoy Los Angeles?”

DeVries turned, and his boss’s knowing smile pissed him off good. “Did you know what a bitch your so-called star is?”

“Of course.” Simon motioned him into his office and said to the Texan, “Take an hour for lunch. Mrs. Martinez is on her way up.”

“Yes, sir.”

Without looking at deVries once, she bent over, digging in a drawer in her desk. Her desk.

DeVries dropped into a chair in Simon’s office and glanced around. Creamy carpet. Off-white walls. Yet the mahogany desk, leather furniture, and colorful abstract art kept the place from the frozen feeling of the Texan’s fancy condo. “You hiring Dark Haven subbies now?”

Simon’s gaze cooled. “Mrs. Martinez’s daughter is getting married, and she requested help for a couple of weeks. Rona suggested I hire Lindsey.”

And Simon gave his wife just about anything she wanted. DeVries considered mentioning Lindsey’s past. Unfortunately, what she’d done to an ex-husband had little bearing on her performance as a secretary. Odd she was working at all, but perhaps an upscale office was the perfect hunting ground for her next sucker.

“Do you have a concern with Lindsey?” Simon asked evenly.

Fuck. “Nothing related to work. Won’t be a problem.”

“Good enough.” Simon flipped open a folder on the desk. “Now debrief me on Los Angeles. I also want your input on security for the Scofield’s residence.”

DeVries turned his attention to the matters at hand. The Texan would undoubtedly stay out of his path, both here and at Dark Haven. She didn’t strike him as suicidal.

For over an hour, they tossed ideas back and forth, and finally Simon nodded. “Looks workable.” He glanced down at the notes he’d jotted. “Give this to Lindsey to type up, would you, please?”

DeVries took the papers. At the door, he stopped. “How’s she working out?”

Simon’s level look made him feel like a fool. “Very nicely. Her degree is in social work, and she lacks office experience; however, sheer doggedness gets her past that. I’ll keep her as long as she wants to stay.”

Social work? Jesus. “Why the fuck would a rich girl major in social work?”

“Rich girl?” Simon gave him a quizzical glance. “Where’d you get such an idea?”

“Saw her condo. Pacific Heights.”

With a disgusted sound, Simon leaned back in his chair. “Someday you might want to talk to the woman you’re fucking.”

Unable to think of a response, he closed the door. Simon’s reaction implied Lindsey wasn’t rich, and deVries was off base.

Or Simon had been taken in by someone’s puppy-dog eyes and an oh-pitiful-me story.

DeVries crossed the hallway to the reception area. Lindsey was behind the desk, sitting beside Mrs. Martinez.

The gray-haired secretary’s tailored silvery suit hinted at her impressive efficiency; her pleased smile showed her true nature. Sweetest woman on the planet.

“Zander, it’s wonderful you’re back.” She held her hand out to him and accepted a kiss on her cheek as her due. “If you’ll be here a few days, I’ll make you an apple pie.”

His mouth watered. The woman knew how to cook. “If I’m out of town, I’ll fly back.”

Her laugh was delighted. Still smiling, she turned to the silent little Texan. “Lindsey, do you know Alexander deVries? He’s Simon’s best operative.”

“Yes, we’ve met.” Lindsey tilted her head stiffly. “Mr. deVries.”

Well, if that was the way she wanted to play it, fine. He gave her a nod and handed Mrs. Martinez the papers. “Simon needed these typed up.”

In his office, he dropped into his chair. As one of Simon’s three lead security agents, he rated his own space rather than a cubicle. Not high on his list of priorities, but he liked the privacy. Leaning back, he stared out the window where the Bay sparkled in an undoubtedly short interlude of sunshine.

Quite the puzzle. A pretty divorcee who ended up well-off enough to live in Pacific Heights—yet worked as a receptionist.

She’d dressed…comfortably. Not rich. Black jeans and boots, silky red shirt. A black jacket dressed her outfit up adequately for an office.

Mrs. Martinez dressed fancier.

Lindsey had a degree in social work—or so she’d told Simon. Social workers and con artists didn’t belong in the same box.

He scowled. Although she’d lied to him last weekend, he hadn’t noticed any dishonesty before that. However, he’d been played for a fool before. Tamara had lied to him constantly, and he hadn’t caught on.

Even so, that was a decade ago. He’d been younger. Hadn’t been a Dom and used to studying for small telltale signs of deception. He’d never have thought to distrust his wife.