The Hill
As a P.I., he was used to protecting people. But one beautiful heiress is challenging every move he makes in the conclusion of Carol Ericson's Brody Law miniseries.When P.I. Judd Brody agreed to safeguard socialite London Breck, he expected a fluff gig filled with parties and papparzzi. But the bombshell blonde was nothing like the wild princess he'd seen in the media…and his undeniable attraction to her was as real as the threats to her life. The missteps of London's past didn't compare to the fear she now faced. With her sexy bodyguard by her side, she vowed to confront the conspiracy haunting her family. London couldn't imagine surviving this without Judd. She'd help him get the answers she needed. But she had no intention of watching him walk away once he did….
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When they hit the dance floor, Judd pulled London snug against his body.
Wrapping one arm around her slender waist, he reached up with his other arm to tuck her head against his shoulder. Her breath warmed his skin through the thin material of his shirt.
He rested his cheek against her bright hair and the golden strands stuck to the stubble of his beard. Reaching between their bodies, he opened her leather jacket and drew her close again, his chest pressing against her soft breasts beneath the silvery material of her dress.
She shifted and her soft lips touched the side of his neck.
He gritted his teeth to suppress the shudder threatening to engulf his body ⦠and for the first time in a very long time and a very long line of women, he felt on the edge of losing control.
Then the door to the bar burst open and Londonâs driver, bloodied and battered, staggered into the room and dropped to the floor.
CAROL ERICSON lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carolâs head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readersâ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, âWhere romance flirts with danger.â
Judd BrodyâA private investigator whose current client, an heiress with a stalker, proves to be more than he bargained for, both professionally and personally. But their pasts are intertwined, and helping her just might help him solve the mystery of his fatherâs suicide.
London BreckâThis socialite heiress has a lot on her plate; what she doesnât need is someone stalking her. The sexy P.I. she hires as a bodyguard can do more than protect herâhe just might end up saving her life.
Spencer BreckâLondonâs father may have passed away, but he still throws a long shadow over Juddâs past and Londonâs future and may hold the key to both.
Jay BreckâLondonâs uncle had a falling out with Londonâs father. Could the rift between the brothers be the source of Londonâs current turmoil?
Niles BreckâLondonâs cousin has millions to his name, but his desire for more will get him in trouble.
Roger TaylorâHe already helps London manage Breck Global Enterprises, but he wants more from her and may decide to take it.
Richard TaylorâHeâs been running Breck Global Enterprises for a long time; itâs only natural heâd resent any interference from London.
Wade VickersâLondonâs half brother seems content with his role in his fatherâs company, but does his cool exterior mask a raging jealousy?
Captain WilliamsâThis SFPD detective knew both Juddâs father and Londonâs father, which means he knows all their secrets, but do they know his?
To all the ladies at GIAMx2
Contents
âYour father was murdered. You could be next.â
London Breck jerked her head up from the slip of paper and caught the waiterâs arm as he turned away. âIâm sorry. Who gave this to you?â
The young manâs eyes widened and London released her death grip on his white jacket.
âLike I told you, Ms. Breck. I found the folded piece of paper on my tray with your name written on the outside. IâI donât know who put it there...and I didnât read it.â
She crumpled the note in her fist and dropped it into her evening clutch, trading it for a ten-dollar bill. âThatâs okay. Thanks for delivering it to me.â
The waiter pocketed the money and scurried away without looking back.
Someone had decided to play a joke with that note, or it signaled the opening gambit of some sort of scam. London tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. If this con man believed he could pull a fast one on her or Breck Global Enterprises, he hadnât met their legal team.
She straightened her spine and turned to face the room, smiling so hard her cheeks hurt. It was an occupational hazardâif one could call glad-handing and raising money an occupation. But it was the only one sheâd ever had, the only one sheâd ever trained for.
She swept a champagne flute from a passing tray with practiced ease and turned her attention to the crowd jamming the Fairmont Hotelâs ballroom. Which well-heeled donor or wannabe had left that note? Scanning the room, her gaze tripped over the hottie in the corner.
Even though his crisp tux conformed to the dress code for the evening, he had outsider scribbled all over his amazing body. The tux couldnât mask the sheer power of the man, and it had very little to do with the way the material puckered and stretched across his massive shoulders, crying out for a good tailor.
