Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) by A. Rosa Read Free Book Online

exhale, frustrated. I want to hit myself. Did I really almost speak Portuguese to Mr. Big Shot? Why don't I whip out my gun and badge while I'm at it, and ruin everything?
    He looks confused. "Did you just —?"
    " No." I cut him off. God, help me.
    He laughs at me for a moment and says, "Yes , you did. What language was that?"
    I chew my lip and I am glad it wasn't Arabic ; I would not have a legitimate answer for that one. I know Portuguese because the only family I have—had—was my great-aunt who barely spoke English.
    "Um, it was Portuguese. I'm half." I manage a weak smile , because it is at least the truth.
    Without missing a beat, he responds with, "No wonder you're so beautiful."
    I don't like the comment for a variety of reasons, and I cannot stop my immediate response. I roll my eyes.
    He yanks at my arm , halting our stride. It shocks me, because it is simply a glimmering insight into who Jeremy really is. His demeanor, playful only moments ago, has shifted. He is stern-CEO with his face set into a hard line, but his angular features are so sharply beautiful that he has me mesmerized.
    "You need to learn to take a compliment." Even though his icy stare is supposed to strike fear, it manages to egg me on.
    "Well, if I thought it was genuine, maybe I would."
    He still isn't willing to let go of my hand as I try to tug it away.
    "I think you are beautiful," he says, forceful but soft. I am trapped in his gaze, and my mouth goes dry. "I know you work in an environment where people may say that to you all the time, but I don't use the word lightly, OK?"
    Oh, he still thinks I am a waitress —how could I forget?
    Before letting me respond , he takes his free hand, runs his long fingers down my face, and traces his thumb over my bottom lip as if I am some cherished being.
    Who is this guy? My training never prepared me for this.
    I pull away and we continue our walk. This man has somehow destroyed my ability to filter myself. "You need to know that I can't do this; I'm no good for you." Let’s try this one more time.
    We finally make it to his car. He opens the passenger door to his white, high-end Lexus for me and places my backpack inside.
    His lips twist with amusement as he helps me climb into the car. "I can't see how that is possible."
    His playful mood is back , and I find it gives me a sense of reassurance. "You don't know me. I wish I could tell you more but I can't." I wish it didn't have to be this way. He is too intertwined in my job. He practically is my assignment. What have I gotten myself into?
    "Well, let me get to know you."
    He's about to shut the door, and I manage to speak before it slams closed. "I am just going to hurt you!"
    I can see Jeremy's baffled expression through the tinted windows. He comes around, opens the driver side door, gracefully slips inside , and starts the engine.
    "I don't see that happening. I don't think you will hurt me ." His tone is sincere. His face searches mine for a moment before he pulls the car out of the parking spot. I watch him in silence.
    I think I must be chewing my lip raw now . "Jeremy, if I hurt you, it would not be intentional. You don't know what I am capable of."
    The professional flirt he is, he turns to look at me as his eyes heat . "I want to know what you're capable of," he says. He flashes me his wry smile before looking back to the road.
    I reward him with one of my own . "You're not hearing me. You won't understand and I can't explain it, but I am honestly dangerous, Jeremy."
    We reach a red light , and he looks at me, ready to laugh. His eyes flit over my body as if sizing me up as a threat. By the look on his face, it seems he comes to the quick conclusion that I’m not.
    "You don't believe me?" I ask, annoyed.
    He lets out a chuckle as he reaches out to squeeze my knee, and there is that electrical spark he elicits.
    "Um ... kind of," he says as we pull forward. A part of me is tempted to remind him of our first encounter, but I refrain and