Disclaimer: The characters and their world belong to Janet Evanovich. I'm just playing with them for fun, and all mistakes are my own.

AN: This is an Alternate Universe story, though there may be spoilers for the first few books in the series. Ranger is raising Julie, and one Stephanie Plum answers an ad in the paper for a job at Trenton's newest security firm, RangeMan.

Chapter 1: You want me to do what?

I felt a little like Alice in Wonderland as I followed a silent hulk of a man into the elevator of a seven story building off of Haywood. I'm a Jersey girl, born and bred, so I'm used to people being armed. Even my grandma carries a .45 in her purse, but the firepower on this guy made me kind of nervous.

Why was I following a heavily armed stranger into a half-empty building in Trenton, New Jersey? It was pretty simple; I was down to my last three bucks and rent was due last week.

Six months ago I had a steady job as a lingerie buyer for E.E. Martin. Trying to find the best price for granny panties wasn't my idea of a dream career, but it kept me in FMPs and I had a pretty cool car. Unfortunately, E.E. Martin was shut down by the Feds and my Miata had been repossessed. I'd already pawned my TV and DVD player, and I'd just cleaned out my bank account to purchase a Chevy Nova that was more rust than sheet metal. Worst 500 bucks I'd ever spent.

Truth was, whoever I was on my way to see was hiring and I really needed a job. If this didn't pan out, I'd have to go beg my cousin for a file clerk position at his bail bonds office. Vinnie is a boil on the backside of my family tree, and a pervert, if the story about the duck is true. He'd also sell out his own grandmother for twenty bucks, so I'd decided applying for a job at a completely unknown company couldn't be any more dangerous to my health and well-being. The placard next to the lobby door said 'RangeMan', but the job advertisement in the paper had been decidedly vague.

The elevator opened up onto a vast, echoing space on the fifth floor. The walls and carpet were contractor beige and the few cubicles that were set up along the perimeter were occupied by men who were just as intimidating as my escort, who'd left me alone at the elevator. Smiling weakly, I sketched a finger wave at the man nearest me, an enormous guy with a flaming skull tattooed onto his forehead. I was starting to realize that this wasn't your average office and these were no run of the mill cubicle dwellers.

This impression was only strengthened by the small figure that came barreling around the corner on a skateboard. I jumped out of the way, but since this is me we're talking about, we still ended up in a heap on the floor. Yep, I thought as I picked myself and the kid up off the floor, definitely the strangest job interview I'd ever been on, and I'm counting the time I interviewed for a job managing midget mud wrestlers.

The men were on their feet, surrounding us by then, but no one had uttered a word, even the girl. She was a cute kid, with warm brown skin and the most glorious head of hair I'd ever seen. It was so dark it was almost black and hung halfway down her back in smooth, silky waves. Mine is light brown and so curly that poodles have been known to make fun of it, so I was a little envious.

Judging by the glares the guys were giving her, the fifth floor was supposed to be a skateboard free zone. I don't know if it was her quivering lower lip, or what, but she brought out protective instincts in me I hadn't even known existed.

"Hey, no harm done, kid," I said as I flipped the board upright and caught it in my right hand. I edged us both away from the incredible hulks and held the skateboard out to her. "Think about zigging instead of zagging next time, OK?" I said with a wink.

I probably imagined it, but she almost smiled as she rode away, leaving me alone with half a dozen men dressed in what looked like black SWAT gear. I blew out a breath. "So what's the dental plan like here?"

R&S~R&S~R&S

A few minutes later, I was looking across a wide ultra-modern desk at the kid's dad. My first thought was 'hot, hot, hot!' My second thought was that this was one seriously scary man. His skin was the same smooth mocha latte color as his daughter's, his hair was long and caught back in a ponytail, and his face belonged on the cover of a steamy romance novel. On the other hand, he was dressed like his men, built like a Mack truck, and he was staring at me like I was a particularly interesting bug. It was like being under a microscope.

After several minutes, he finally spoke. "Ms. Plum, I would like to offer you the position on a trial basis."

I struggled to hide my excitement. Interviewers usually asked at least a couple of questions, but I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"You'll live in since you'll be on call seven days a week, but you will have free time during school hours."

"Excuse me?" I asked, shaking my head in confusion. "What does the school schedule have to do with the job?"

"My daughter is eight, Ms. Plum," he explained patiently. At my blank look he tried again. "You are here for the nanny position?"

"But, I thought I was interviewing for the office manager job," I sputtered. I could handle spreadsheets and schedules, but I didn't know a damn thing about kids, except they were small, loud and tended to spit up a lot. At least my cousin's kids did, but that may have been all the hotdogs I fed them last time I babysat.

"Fucking Santos," he muttered under his breath. He double checked the label on a folder, flipped it open and scanned the contents briefly. Finally, he met my eyes. I could almost feel him staring straight through me, as if he could read every thought I'd ever had. "The office manager position has been filled already, but my other offer is still open."

The man was certifiable. "I have never worked as a nanny," I protested.

His lips twitched. "But you've somehow made it farther in the interview process than any other applicant."

"But you haven't even asked one question, yet."

He leaned back in his chair and I had to work to keep my eyes on his face. Pecs like that should be illegal. "Your background check was clean, and you didn't suddenly remember another appointment down in the lobby."

I smirked. "I thought all well-dressed receptionists carried assault rifles." As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. Hello, my name is Stephanie Plum. I am about 5'7" tall, 125 pounds, and 50 of those pounds are in my big, fat, mouth.

An almost smile tipped up the corners of his lips as he scribbled down a figure on a slip of paper. "I can offer this the first month, with a twenty percent raise after the trial period."

I gasped at the amount. It was easily double what I'd made at my last job. "I'm not sure I'm qualified to care for small children," I said weakly. This was almost an offer I couldn't refuse.

He made an impatient sound in the back of his throat. "My daughter is not an infant, Ms. Plum."

Good, because I sucked at changing diapers, I thought. Judging by the way that his lips twitched, I'd said that last part out loud.

"Ms. Plum, you are a single, unencumbered adult with no criminal record."

"So is Joyce Barnhardt, but I wouldn't want her to watch my kid," I shot back. I cringed. God, what was it about this guy that turned me stupid? The only favor Joyce had ever done me was sleep with my husband, so why was I even remotely comparing myself to her? During a job interview, no less?

He sighed. "Let's cut to the chase. Do you hate kids, Ms. Plum?"

"No!" I exclaimed. I wasn't comfortable around them, but hate them? I had nieces for Christ's sake.

"Good. Are you an agent for an enemy government, recruiting for a cult, or only interested in finding your next husband?" he continued, one eyebrow raised sardonically.

"God no!" I exclaimed. "Where are you recruiting your nannies from? Hell?" I was starting to feel a little sorry for the kid if these were standard interview questions.

He looked me straight in the eye and went in for the kill. "The rent on your apartment will be covered during the trial period." He glanced down at the last page on what was most likely an extremely thorough background check on me. "Late fees, too."

I huffed out a breath. Who was I fooling? We both knew that I needed this job. "It's Stephanie."

"Stephanie," he repeated slowly, his slight accent transforming my name into something rare and exotic sounding.

"Ms. Plum is my mother." I held out my hand to him. "I guess you have yourself a nanny, Mr. Mañoso." I had to suppress a gasp as our palms met and little tendrils of fire traveled down my arm. I wondered briefly if it was too late to take back my decision.

The corners of his eyes crinkled, and his lips lifted into a grin that was as brief as it was beautiful. "My employees call me Ranger."