LITMIR.BIZ

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      “Let me present, the lovely Can—dy!”

      Taking her cue, Eryn surged up, flipping the top layer of the cake back and standing tall. For one satisfying moment, Eryn spotted Callan on the other side of the room. The big man stood near the balcony doors, totally fixated on her. At that moment, the suite’s door crashed inward and a group of men wearing ski masks invaded the room. They carried pistols and small machine guns. A masked man grabbed one of the guys at the party and put a pistol to his head. Another masked man fired a burst that punched out glass from the balcony doors.

      “Get down on the floor! Do it now and you’ll live!”

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      Dear Reader,

      The idea for this story came to me in a dream. The mercenary heartthrob looking out for his baby sister is a definite winner for me. An Officer and a Gentleman still gets me. Callan Storm hasn’t had the benefit of that pristine life in the military, though. He’s a behind-the-scenes operator, a member of a Black Ops group, and he doesn’t trust much. I do love those rugged guys who will see a promise through to the end no matter what risks they take.

      I wanted to give Callan someone he could trust—eventually. But I didn’t want her to appear totally together and at her best because then the professional side of my school of hard knocks soldier might recognize a kindred spirit. So I stashed security specialist Eryn McAdams inside a cake at a bachelor’s party. And I made her a last-minute change in the lineup. I thought, Callan will never trust anyone like that when something goes wrong. I was right! Join them for the night of their lives when everything changes—at the speed of a bullet.

      Happy reading!

      Meredith Fletcher

      Best Man for the Job

      Meredith Fletcher

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MEREDITH FLETCHER

      lives out west where the skies are big, but still close enough to Los Angeles to slip in for some strategic shopping. She loves old stores with real wooden floors, open-air cafés, comfortable boots, the mountains and old movies like Portrait of Jennie while sipping a cup of hot cocoa on a frosty day. She’s previously written for Silhouette Bombshell and loves action romances with larger-than-life heroes and heroines with pithy repartee. She has pithy repartee herself, but never when she seems to need it most! She’s much more comfortable at the computer writing her books. Please contact her at [email protected] or find her at www.whatmakesmyheartbeatfaster.blogspot.com.

      For Montana, a great little mother.

       And for Mary-Theresa Hussey,

       for all the laughs and guidance.

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Epilogue

      Chapter 1

      “You’re not the girl I was expecting.”

      Choking down the immediate surge of irritation that raced through her, Eryn McAdams studied the tall man blocking her path into the hotel suite. She’d just come from a day filled with dealing with macho security types treating her like a “girl.” She was only here now as a favor to a friend. It just went to show that no good deed went unpunished. She sheathed a cutting remark and took a breath as she surveyed the guy blocking her way.

      At least six foot three or four, he was broad shouldered, narrow waisted and muscular. His physique belonged to an athlete, but the short-cropped blond hair and slate-gray eyes that possessed laser intensity screamed of a military background. The gray suit fit him perfectly and his silk tie was knotted precisely. The soft brown leather shoes held a shine. If he hadn’t come across so blatantly obnoxious, he would have been attractive.

      Eryn stood her ground defiantly. “Number one, I’m not a girl, I’m a woman. Number two, I’m the woman you’re getting tonight.”

      The man kept his arms folded across his broad chest and didn’t move. “Where’s the other girl? The one we hired?”

      Eryn couldn’t believe the guy was being so particular. Renee had told her she’d never had a face-to-face with anyone connected to the bachelor party and had only talked to someone named Toby. “She’s not coming.”

      “Why?”

      “She’s sick. She called and asked me to cover your party.”

      The man’s mouth tightened. “Not my party.”

      “Somehow, that doesn’t surprise me. You don’t seem like the partying type.” Or the marrying kind. But somewhere in the back of Eryn’s mind, that place where she kept foolish thoughts, a bright he’s available light just flashed on. She ignored it. The last thing she needed tonight was man trouble. But ignoring the attractive male in front of her was hard.

      The gray eyes narrowed. “Business must be good if you can sass all your customers this way.”

      “I’m in a business where I’m not going to take a lot of crap or disrespect. You can’t pay me enough for that.” Eryn hated putting the gig at risk, because Renee was a single mom and needed the money, and she’d said that bachelor parties could pay really well. Only a really good friendship and a godson would get Eryn so close to naked in a roomful of strange men.

      “Cal, Cal. What are you doing, dude?” Another man, younger than the guy blocking the door, stumbled over and tried to lay an arm around the big man’s shoulders. The effort was wasted because he wasn’t tall enough and he was amicably drunk. He was dressed casually, jeans and sport jacket.

      “Callan. Not Cal.” The big man’s voice remained soft but carried definite authority. He was a man used to being obeyed.

      “Okay…Callan.” The newcomer drew back his arm. “But, chill, dude. Don’t hassle the stripper. We’re all here for a good time, and I paid good money for her.”

      Eryn counted to three. “I’m not a stripper.” She didn’t want Renee or herself to be disrespected. Entertainment was a job, a profession. The audience had to know its place up front. “I’m here as an exotic entertainer. A dancer.”

      Back when she’d first arrived in Las Vegas, she’d worked as a dancer for a while. Her career still suffered from that from time to time as coworkers discovered her past, but that history also allowed her to be good at her current profession. During her dancing days, she had always been very clear about the job description.

      “And you paid for the performance, not me.” She was also always very clear about what was paid for.

      The

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