I say blue?” she asked once the door slammed shut, sugar dripping from each syllable. “I meant gold. The gold door is the stairwell, the blue door leads to the lobby.” She pointed to each as she spoke, as if willing herself to remember facts she obviously knew perfectly well.
A storm swirled in his eyes, reminding her of a deadly waterspout in the gulf. “That was uncalled for,” he snapped, once again trying to straighten his tie and jacket despite that he looked as if he’d just…well, as if he’d just escaped a screaming crowd of crazed women clamoring for his bod.
“I beg to differ.” Samantha planted her fists on her hips. “I’d say it was completely called for. You were rude and I won’t be treated like a groupie. My job—in addition to saving your butt—is to escort you to safety. If you won’t let me do that job, then I can’t be responsible for the consequences.”
He stood straighter as he caught his breath, and Samantha suddenly found his height imposing. If it weren’t for the twinkle of amusement dancing in his green eyes, she might have backed down. “So you led me back into the ring? Revenge, quick and simple. That’s a concept I understand.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe in revenge.” Samantha considered that claim for a minute and decided it wasn’t entirely truthful. It had been. Once. When she didn’t know better. “No, that’s not true. I do believe in revenge. In fact, I kind of dig it.”
“Dig it? How old are you?”
“Old enough to have a father who still says ‘dig it’ and ‘groovy.’ And for the record, it isn’t considered polite to ask a woman her age.”
“Well, aren’t you just New Orleans’ answer to Miss Manners. I suppose it’s the height of proper etiquette to throw a drowning man back into shark-infested waters?” He gestured toward the blue door, his expression incredulous.
She pursed her lips. “We could call it even.”
Despite his best efforts, a tiny grin broke through his scowl. “Very reasonable. Now, if you’d be so kind, Miss Deveaux, would you personally escort me to some quiet exit so I can return to my hotel?”
“Name’s Samantha. And I’d be delighted to see you safely out of the Dome, Mr. LaRocca.”
He hesitated, then thrust his hand forward in a businesslike pose. “Nick. Please.”
Sam glanced at his eyes first, then his hand, assessing the threat of touching him. The feel of him against her still resonated throughout the full length of her body, still lingered along the edges of her skin. But her newfound independence and determination wouldn’t allow her to refuse.
She concentrated all of her strength into giving him one hearty handshake, but was ill prepared for the electric shock that crackled between their palms.
“Ow!”
He pulled back, glanced at his hand and then at her.
“Sorry. I’m one of those people who conducts a lot of electricity,” she explained, trying to remember the last time she’d shocked someone on such a warm and humid day.
“I’ll just bet you do.” His comment was cryptic, but the deepened crease of two slashlike dimples told her he implied something sexual. Yet the fanciful glint disappeared quickly, leaving her to wonder if this man had just flirted with her or if her celibacy was finally driving her mad.
He gestured for her to lead the way, following a few steps behind when she opened the gold door across the hall, checked that the stairwell was empty and secure, then ushered him downstairs.
Leaving the Superdome without escort posed a greater threat now that a crowd had formed outside, so once they reached the lower level, Sam radioed for instructions. Tim Tousignant, the SuperMarketing Expo executive who’d also been caught in the crush, met them in the security office to ensure that Mr. LaRocca was indeed well and would return to give his presentation as soon as additional security measures were in place. Tim offered his personal limousine to deliver the Chicago food magnate back to his hotel, with Samantha as escort.
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Tim. The hotel is across the street,” Dominick reasoned.
Tim shook his head, his face pinched and his gaze insistent. “There’s a growing crowd out front. We’d just about calmed them down when something riled them again.” He checked his watch, missing the look Dominick shot to Samantha. “The hotel lobby will be busy this time of day. Samantha can escort you through the service entrance.” He turned his gaze directly on Sam. “See him safely to his room. I don’t want his safety jeopardized again.”
Samantha didn’t like Tim’s accusatory tone, but she bit back her sharp retort and nodded instead. She didn’t figure Tim for the sass-me-and-get-away-with-it type. Like it or not, she needed this job until she could find something better—or until her brother-in-law and sister returned from Rio.
“I’ll see to his safety.”
Dominick shook his head, obviously chafing under the protective orders. “Miss Deveaux has been very effective, but I can manage on my own.”
“I’m afraid I have to insist,” Tim said, his tone conciliatory yet firm. “It won’t be good business for the Expo if one of our top exhibitors is accosted outside the Superdome.”
Nick eyed Samantha skeptically. Either he didn’t trust her to do her job—which she doubted since the man didn’t seem to be a fool—or he simply didn’t want her around. She didn’t blame him. As a bodyguard, resentment of her presence would be a common response. As nice and accommodating as her own childhood bodyguards had been, she’d disliked living under their watchful eyes from the day after her father’s first megahit made him a celebrity, until she turned twenty-one and fired them herself.
Dominick’s stare lasted a long moment, but then he nodded his acceptance of the inevitable. “Can you arrange tightened security by this afternoon?”
“I’ll get right on it,” Tim answered. “Samantha, radio Mitchell to send my driver around back. I apologize again, Mr. LaRocca. I had no idea…”
Dominick silenced the apology with a flattened palm. “Neither did I. Obviously, there’s no accounting for some women’s taste.”
Self-deprecating humor looked good on him, Samantha decided, though if she hadn’t already spent it, she’d bet next month’s rent that he didn’t employ such self-mockery often. Still, Dominick LaRocca seemed an interesting mix of contradictions. Gorgeous men like him didn’t usually come in multidimensional models, at least not in her experience. Maybe there was more to him than met the eye.
Though the part that met the eye was pretty damn appealing.
While Dominick flipped open his cell phone to call his assistant before they left, Tim pulled her aside.
“Good job, Samantha. I didn’t mean to jump on you. I just don’t want Mr. LaRocca to think we take security lightly.”
“No problem.” She glanced at Tim’s hand, still lingering on her elbow. He stepped back and shoved both hands into the pockets of his pressed and creased Armani slacks.
“Look, I know you took this job for the money. That’s cool,” Tim assured her, suddenly looking every inch the
