Saving Grace (Watchdogs, Inc. Book 1)

By Mia Dymond

Professional organizer Grace Portland is the queen of schedule and routine. Armed with talent and discipline, she accepts the most challenging of clients. Except when she is hired to assist an unsuspecting client, she finds the mission both difficult and .... arousing.

Former Navy SEAL and member of Watchdogs, Inc., Lt. Commander Paxton "Harvard" Gray operates well in his piles of clutter and is quite content with his mad scientist methods. Although he is skeptical of Grace's claim that she can reform him, he adapts a simple rationale: Keep the piles, keep Grace around.

Hired to assist the handsome soldier, Grace is severely challenged, to say the least. Yet when she becomes the target of a desperate maniac, she discovers that Harvard's unconventional methods may be the key to keeping her alive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mia Dymond
• Release date: Apr 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370844821

Mia Dymond

I write contemporary romance novels with sexy, alpha males and females with attitude to boot. I live in a zoo,hold down a full time job, and am trying to coax my creative muse from her cage. So BEWARE, the madness may rub off on you!

Book preview

Saving Grace

Watchdogs, Inc., Book 1

By

Mia Dymond

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Mia Dymond

Published on Smashwords

Cover photo: Vishstudio|Dreamstime.com

Cover by Rita Toews

* * *

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to wherever you bought it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

CHAPTER ONE

Lt. Commander Paxton Harvard Gray stood in the doorway of his commanding officer’s inner sanctum and attempted to deny the thought that the impending conversation would most likely be detrimental to his wellbeing. Unfortunately, the ice pack balanced on the other man’s left knee didn’t give him much hope.

You wanted to see me?

About damn time. Captain Cason Diesel Clark winced as he leaned forward in his chair.

Frowning, Harvard folded himself into an empty chair in front of the massive, oak desk. In all the years he’d spent as a SEAL under the captain’s command, he’d never seen him acknowledge pain. The man was almost invincible.

Were you ambushed?

Funny. Diesel didn’t smile. Actually, you’re responsible for my condition.

Me?

The captain nodded. You and the Drake case file.

Still at a loss, he attempted to gather facts without sounding like an idiot. I don’t understand how I’m responsible.

I needed the file.

He gave a silent nod.

It was in your office.

Another nod – it seemed the only logical reaction at this point.

The captain released a hard breath. "Your office, the death trap of a maze where you claim to work. The least you could’ve done was clear a path. Every inch of space is occupied by … something. I don’t even know what took me down."

Sorry about that. He glanced at the other man’s knee and flinched. I’m kind of a mad scientist.

You need serious help, man.

He grinned as he glanced around the room. Of course his c.o. would think he was sick – nothing here was out of place. Everything in this office had an assigned space and remained there. In fact, the captain respected his label maker as much as his weapon.

I’ll clear you a path, he conceded.

Too late. I’ve made an executive decision.

Oh. Hell. This was not good news. Diesel’s executive decisions usually caused someone pain and he was fairly sure that in this case, someone meant him. He swallowed hard as he realized his first thought of impending doom may have been correct. The conversation was headed south; detrimental, for sure.

I hired a professional. ETA, thirty minutes.

Grace Portland repositioned her tote bag on one shoulder while she smoothed the skirt of her dress with one hand and crammed on her sunglasses with the other. The blinding sunlight seemed ever-present in Hummingbird Bay, California, for which she was thankful. Sunlight always put a positive spin on things, and in her line of work positive made things proceed much more smoothly.

She closed her car door, still intrigued by the phone call she received earlier in the morning. Very rarely did she receive emergency calls for her organizational services, but the caller had been extremely persistent and almost … angry. In fact, she was sure that the man who spoke did so through clenched teeth.

She took a brief moment to mentally rewind the call, just in the off chance she’d missed something. Then again, there hadn’t been much to miss, the conversation had been relatively short. Her caller was emphatic about hiring her, almost ordering her to accept the assignment.

She glanced up at the sign over the door of the building in front of which she’d just parked. Watchdogs, Inc. She didn’t know anything about the company, only that it had been in business for two years and provided various forms of security services. And, judging from the locked gate, security camera, and intercom she dealt with to enter the premises, the company was legitimate.

Well, she was in the right place – time to solve the mystery. An electronic chime announced her entrance as she opened the door and stepped inside.

Good afternoon, Ma’am.

At the greeting from the man who stood just inside the door, she tilted her head backward to meet his gaze. The breathtakingly beautiful man who looked back at her nearly stole her breath while she took him all in.

Although he wore his brown hair short, it looked as if he’d awoken and simply run his fingers through the layers – a sexy, tousled look that appeared natural rather than unkempt. In the depths of his bluish green eyes she caught a sparkle, one that she interpreted as curiosity and mischievousness. And then there was his voice. He’d only spoken two words, yet his voice, low and sexy, lulled her into a warm sense of euphoria.

Ma’am?

Realization that she gawked like a silly schoolgirl shook her free from his invisible hold and she quickly extended a hand.

"Hello, I’m Grace Portland from Saving Grace. You must be Diesel."

No. A smirk split his lips. Harvard Gray.

She frowned. She was sure that his was the voice that opened the gate. You weren’t the voice on the intercom at the gate?

No, but I’m the victim.

She gave his hand a squeeze and then released it, a little unnerved that there were two voices that seemed to be lethal to her libido. I promise it won’t hurt.

Where would you like to start?

I was told we’d be working in your office. Let’s start there.

Sure. Follow me.

Grace walked behind him while she practiced great self-discipline to keep her gaze from roaming the very evident hard planes of his body. For once, her five-foot height gave her a satisfying viewpoint and as hard as she tried, she couldn’t resist checking him out.

His lean back muscles rippled beneath his tight gray t-shirt with each step. And lower – like any warm-blooded female, she snuck a quick peek – his denim jeans hugged an incredible tight, toned backside that tempted her to reach out and touch. Just a soft swipe of her palm would do. She swallowed hard and balled her fists. Something told her this job would be quite a challenge.

He finally stopped in front of an office and gestured at a man who sat behind a desk. This is Diesel, he told her.

The other man stood and limped around the desk and then held out a hand. Miss Portland?

Grace, she said as she returned a handshake.

I see Harvard has introduced himself. Good luck with the project.

Thank you. She nodded and stole a quick glance around the area, analyzing both the man and the room.

Obviously, sex appeal was a prerequisite for the members of this company. Like her client, this man was attractive and … big. He, too, was well over six feet tall and she was forced to strain her eyes so that she wouldn’t appear too obvious by looking upward once again. He wore his black hair a bit longer, collar-length, with yet again the just-out-of-bed style, and a matching neatly-trimmed beard clung to the surface of his cheeks and skin. But his eyes are what drew her attention. Not in an attractive, sensual sort of nudge, but one of mystery. If she wasn’t mistaken, the deep, chocolate brown gaze held a distinct note of danger.

Biceps the size of tree trunks bulged beneath a light blue, button-up dress shirt and black, denim jeans covered his slim yet muscular lower body. Between his appearance and his smooth, authoritative voice, something told her that no one crossed this man.

She moved her gaze from him and over his office, impressed by his obvious knack for order. Everything appeared to be in an assigned area; even the papers on top of his desk were filed in colored file folders. The floor was free of clutter and a large white board hung on the wall behind his large, severely organized desk. From her first impression, this man did not require her services.

Harvard’s voice penetrated her silent analysis. My office is down the hall.

Great! Let’s get started.

Once again, she followed Harvard and hoped to high Heaven she could remain professional throughout this assignment. She allowed herself a small grin. She may not be able to act on her desires, but nothing said she couldn’t fantasize.

When they approached what she assumed was Harvard’s office, he blocked the entrance and turned to face her.

Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Don’t worry, she reassured him. I’ve seen it all. I’m here to help.

He shrugged and stepped to the side.

As soon as her gaze rested on the interior, she suddenly understood Diesel’s phone call. Nothing in the office was in its’ proper place. Loose papers lined the top of his desk, piles of folders rested on the floor, and thumbtacks poked through wads of paper and pierced the walls. A tan sofa occupied one wall, separated from an executive’s desk by a black mini-refrigerator. Two mismatched chairs sat in front of the desk.

She took a deep breath and stepped inside, careful of her reaction. Have you been ill?

No.

Are you in the process of moving?

No.

Was there an accident?

No.

Really? Because your friend appears to be in a fair amount of pain.

Really.

Your office looks like this on purpose?

Sure.

And you function normally?

Absolutely. He released a confident smile that made her thighs tingle. I know exactly where to find anything I need.

She paused in an effort to word her response carefully without insulting him. He might be able to function in this environment, but she highly doubted he did it efficiently. And if he did do it efficiently, there was a whole lot more to the story.

She painted a confident smile on her face. We just need to make a few slight changes. Don’t worry, I can fix this.

Braced with his legs apart and his hands folded across his chest, Harvard took one look at the tiny, raven-haired stick of dynamite and mentally cracked a smile. She talked a pretty good game with her organizational goals, but could she walk the walk? In no way did he question her ability – no, she exuded professional success. The true test, though, was teaching an old dog new tricks. Namely, him.

The woman was a looker, that was for sure. Dressed in a red dress with thin straps that wrapped around both shoulders and a skirt that brushed the tops of her knees, she flashed him a very desirable view of the pale, creamy skin of her chest, shoulders, and legs. Cut in a heart-shaped pattern, the bodice squeezed her slender waist and breasts. 36C in his best estimation.

She couldn’t have stood much over five feet tall, but her shapely legs didn’t go unnoticed. No, they were perfect – perfect for wrapping his hips in the heat of passion. Suddenly, accepting her help seemed like a brilliant idea.

He shifted his weight to one side. He wasn’t opposed to changing his methods, in fact that might possibly be a positive experience. He got the distinct impression that the very beautiful woman who stood opposite him with one hand on a hip could whip things into shape in a matter of minutes. The problem was that it had been his experience that efficiency easily morphed into insanity.

I’m sure Diesel will pay you for your time even if I don’t buy into this project.

When she moved her hand from her hip and crossed both arms under her breasts, he damn near swallowed his tongue at the newly-created valley of cleavage that demanded his attention. Smooth, creamy like the rest of her skin, and tempting. So damn tempting.

You don’t want my help?

He immediately snapped his gaze from her breasts back to hers, partly because he