His Bodyguard (11 page)

She should reprimand him, remind him that she was his employee, but as she emerged from the car, he smiled. “You smell great.”

A thrill shivered through her, but she scolded herself. She shouldn’t have worn perfume.

“You look good in black. Very dramatic.”

His hand touched her back again and the thrill turned to a tiny flame. Bad girl.

They were seated almost immediately, the four of them at a high table that overlooked the city.

“Nice place,” Sarge said.

“You know me,” Shauna said with a laugh. “I appreciate the finer things. Have you been here before, B.T.?”

“No. I’ve never been to Omaha.”

“Oh. I thought you were from here.”

“No.” She slipped her gaze to Nathan, trying to figure out what to say. Yes, she probably had the right to slap him upside the head, but he was sitting very close. Now and then his knee would touch hers. And somehow the idea of slapping him seemed a thousand light-years away.

“She’s from Mississippi,” Nate said.

“Oh. How long have you two known each other?”

“Two months,” Nathan said. “A little more.”

Damn him for that twinkle in his eye. He was enjoying all this. Enjoying that she was put on the spot. Enjoying all of it. But maybe not enjoying it as much as her knee was. Bad, bad knee.

“I’m his bodyguard,” Brenna said. The words fell into the room like a half ton of horse manure.

Shauna’s bleached brows shot toward her back-combed hairline. Not a soul spoke. Shauna stared at Brenna, then at Nathan, while Sarge kept his narrowed gaze intently on his girlfriend’s face.

“I told you that after all them accidents Fox hired a bodyguard, sweetheart”

“Yes, but…”

Nathan lifted his water glass. Mischief sparkled in his eyes.

“She probably expected B. T. O’Shay to be…taller,” he said.

T
HE EVENING WENT MORE SMOOTHLY
after that There were no blank silences during the limo ride back to the hotel.

“If you want to come up to my room I’ll order up some drinks,” Nathan said as they stepped into the lobby.

A trio of young men entered from a side hall. Brenna got a brief flash of white hair and a pimpled expression, before Ian darted back into the hallway, leaving his two roadie companions to stare after him in bewilderment

“What was that about?” Shauna asked.

Brenna shrugged and tried not to wince.

Nathan chuckled.

“Sure. We’ll come up for a couple of drinks,” Sarge said, not seeming to notice the exchange.

The elevator ride was relatively quiet. Finally, Nathan slipped his key card into his door and without a pause, allowed Brenna to step in first

She flipped on the lights and did a quick once-over while they trooped in behind her.

“They’re not kidding,” Shauna said when she returned. “You really are a bodyguard.”

“I really am,” Brenna said.

“I’ve been waiting all night for them to yell, ‘Fooled ya’,” Shauna admitted.

Brenna laughed. Despite Shauna’s bold beauty and expensive tastes, she was hard to hate. But Brenna was willing to work at it. After all, Nathan had once been in love with her. In fact, Brenna had a sinking feeling that he still was.

“What do you want to drink?” Nathan asked.

Shauna and Sarge placed their orders, but Brenna shook her head.

“Disciplined,” Shauna said.

“Yeah, but when she lets loose, watch out,” Nathan said from close at hand.

It was one of the few references he’d made to her weaknesses since she’d nearly passed out on the bus, and she
refused to blush. Unfortunately, her mind and her body were not always in sync, so she turned away while Nathan picked up the phone and called down orders.

A sheet of notepaper lay on the sofa table behind the leather couch. It was probably scribbled lyrics. Nathan was notorious for leaving them everywhere. She hadn’t noticed it earlier. Of course, Nathan had been in a towel, and if the hotel had exploded and a thousand pieces of molten lava had rained down on her head, she probably wouldn’t have noticed that either. She skimmed the sheet

Her breath stopped in her throat.

“You sure you don’t want anything?” Nathan asked.

She turned stiffly toward him, her heart like a slow dirge in her chest

“What’s wrong?” He dropped the receiver and rushed across the room to her. “Are you dizzy? Sit down.”

She shook her head, feeling sick to her stomach. “The letter.”

“What?” He was holding her arms and scowled into her face.

“Where’d you get the letter?”

“What—” he began and stopped as he noticed the paper. His hands dropped from her arms and he took an abrupt step toward the table.

“What’s the matter?” Sarge stepped up, his expression taut.

“Don’t touch anything,” Brenna said shortly. “And call the police.”

“I
SHOULDN’T HAVE TOUCHED THE LETTER
,” Brenna said.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” Nathan watched her carefully. “The police said there weren’t any prints except in the corner anyway.”

“Where
I
touched it.”

“You didn’t know.”

“I should have.” Her voice was ripe with self-incrimination. “How did he get in here?” Suddenly she felt roiling frustration.

“I thought it was a
she
.”

“What?”

“You said the letters were from a woman.” He dropped into a nearby chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. Geez, it had been one hell of a long day, and he wanted nothing more than to forget the whole mess. “I’d kind of warmed up to the idea, thinking she maybe finds me irresistible.”

“It’s not funny, Fox.”

He grinned a little, because she was so cute, and desirable and real, like apple pie just out of the oven. And he was getting damn tired of acting as if he thought of her on a professional level only. But he was trying to give her time, time to see how right they were together. But, hell, if that didn’t work, he was willing to settle for straight lust He’d thought after that first kiss by his bed that the battle was already won. But damn, this cute little apple pie woman was as stubborn as Moses.

“I didn’t say it was funny,” he said, still watching her. She looked very tired, and he found he wanted only to take
her into his arms and hold her until everything was all right again. “But it’s not as serious as you make it sound.”

“How do you know?” she asked, rounding on him like a bull out of a chute. “How do you know what this guy intends? Why would he be writing all these letters unless he has something planned?”

“It probably doesn’t have anything to do with the other letters. All he said was he was glad I stopped in Omaha.”

“What about your weight?”

“He thought I’d lost some weight So?”

“And he hoped you weren’t fretting about something.”

“Yeah?”

“He made a reference to your looks and your health. Just like the others. And what would make you fret more than these letters?”

Nathan remained silent for a moment, watching her. “He’s trying to scare me.”

“Exactly.”

“So he just wants to get me riled.”

“Maybe,” she said softly and closed her eyes to rub them lightly.

She looked frazzled and frustrated. He wanted to kiss her, to tell her everything was all right, that she was the smartest, cutest little bodyguard in the world. But he knew her well enough to realize that he’d better not

“Sarge sure doesn’t think it’s just a prank,” she said.

In fact, Sarge had asked the police as many questions as O’Shay had, and had insisted they show the note to a handwriting expert It made Nathan feel rather guilty for sometimes thinking Sarge was jealous of him. But just now assuaging O’Shay’s worries was his first concern. “Sarge thinks too much. Always has,” he said.

“Shauna doesn’t think it’s a prank either.”

Nathan watched her. If he tried really hard, he could believe he saw some jealousy in her eyes. And why not? Shauna was a beautiful woman. Icy cold, calculating as an assassin and didn’t hold a pale candle to O’Shay’s earthy allure, but a beautiful woman nevertheless.

“Why do you say that?” he asked, trying to keep the glee out of his tone. Even if she was jealous, it didn’t mean she couldn’t live without him.

“Didn’t you notice? Shauna went as pale as a sheet when she saw the letter. Didn’t she know about the threats?”

Nathan shrugged. It came as a mild, but very welcome surprise to find that he didn’t give a rat’s ass what Shauna Summers thought. “Shauna’s a master at theatrics.”

“I think she cares about you.”

Nathan stood up, intrigued by the intensity of her expression and so hopeful it made his teeth ache. “Funny. That’s what I used to think, too. Turns out Shauna only cares about Shauna.” He stretched his arms and said quietly, “It’s late, O’Shay. And I’ve got a show tomorrow. How ‘bout we get some sleep?”

She let out a heavy sigh and nodded. “Hook the chain behind me, and don’t let anyone in until you call me. Promise?”

There was honest worry in her eyes. Why? Because she didn’t want to be the one to explain his dead body to Sarge? Or because she cared about him? Suddenly he needed to know, needed to hold her in his arms, needed her to trust him, to spend some time, to talk about herself.

The sad part was, he wasn’t above cheating to find out, to keep her close, to hear about her past and, yes, to fan any possible flames that she might have burning for him.

“You’re leaving?” he asked softly.

Her eyes were as big as heaven when she stared at him. “I’ll be right next door.”

A thousand possible pleas went through his mind. None of them sounded very convincing. “I think we’d be safer together.” He was careful to keep his expression absolutely sober, though his heart was racing overtime. “It’s not that I’m afraid for
myself.
” There was nothing like a good denial to make a woman believe the opposite. “But
your
life might be in danger too.” He shuffled his feet a little and wished he’d removed his boots so he looked smaller, more boyish.
He thought of sticking out his lower lip, but overacting might well prove to be his downfall.

“I’m sure I’m perfectly safe,” she said softly.

“You never know. And if something happened to you because of me I’d never forgive myself.” He paused, realizing suddenly that it was true. She’d become part of his life, like the air he breathed. “Stay with me tonight,” he said.

“It…it wouldn’t be…professional.”

“I’ll regale you with stories about myself.”

She hesitated.

He allowed a corner of a self-effacing grin. “Don’t make me say I’m scared, O’Shay.”

The shock and sympathy on her face almost made him feel guilty. Almost. But, damn! He’d waited a long time for a woman like her.

“Please?” He said the word softly.

The silence lasted forever.

“I guess I could stay this once.”

Yes!

“I’ll sleep on the couch.”

No!

“Sure,” he said, stemming the tide of his impatience. “The couch is fine.”

They stared at each other. She cleared her throat. “I’ll go change my clothes.”

Clothes? As in a clunky old sweat suit or something. He stepped quickly forward and reached for her hand. It felt flower-petal soft and small in his own. “Don’t leave.” He laughed at himself, for the desire to keep her close at hand was as real as his pathetic tone implied, even though his reasons were somewhat different from what he was telling her. “I know I’m being ridiculous. Probably just overtired. But…” He shrugged, going for that boyish look again. “I can get you something to wear.”

“I don’t think—”

“Please?” he said again.

She stared at him and Nathan winced. Had he gone too
far with his little-boy act? He almost squirmed beneath her hard gaze.

“All right,” she said finally.

“You’re a gem. Come on in.” He turned toward his bedroom.

She followed slowly and paused at the doorway.

“You can borrow anything you like.” He pulled open a drawer. “Shorts, T-shirt, snakeskin boots?”

“I don’t think the boots will be necessary.”

He turned toward her. She was standing very still, as fresh and lovely as Mother Earth. “You’d look good in snakeskin,” he said.

She stiffened. Nathan gave himself a mental slap and turned back to hide his expression in the drawer. Slowly, slowly. Don’t scare her off. “Long sleeves or short?” he asked, trying to fill the uncomfortable silence before she knew there was one. He heard her shuffle her feet in the doorway.

“Long, I guess.”

“Long it is.” He pulled out a flannel shirt. He’d worn it a hundred times if he’d worn it once and it was as soft as chamois. “Here you go.” He held it out to her.

She took a step into the room but raised her brows as she did so. “I think I’m going to need a little more than that.”

“Oh, yeah, modesty,” he said, and flipping through the pile of clothes again, came up with a pair of silk boxers. They were black with little red foxes printed on them, one of the less ridiculous gifts his road crew had given him over the years.

She reached dubiously for his offering. Their fingers brushed. Nathan felt the impact like the slug of a forty-five. He rose to his feet, drawn hopelessly toward her.

“I…um…” She took a cautious step back. “I better get changed.”

“Oh. Yeah. Just…You stay here. I’ll…” He motioned vaguely toward nowhere. “I’ll brush my teeth,” he said, and pushed himself out the door.

But once outside, he stood still and listened, listened for
the sound of her zipper, the drop of her shoes, and grinned. Then, remembering to play smart, he padded away.

It was difficult to tell exactly how long to wait before he reentered his bedroom. He didn’t want to appear too early and scare her off. So he counted to twenty, tossed his jacket on the couch, unbuttoned his shirt so she could see his scar, and paced once around the sitting room. Then he hurried back to the bedroom door.

One quick knock with his knuckles. “O’Shay?”

“Yeah?”

“You decent? I forgot my toothpaste.”

“Um, yeah. I guess.”

Oh God! She wasn’t sure. That could only be a good sign, he thought, and cracked the door. “Sorry,” he said and stepped inside.

She was wearing his flannel shirt. The sleeves drooped past her fingertips and the green plaid made her eyes seem to swallow her face. Beneath its hem, her legs were bare and smooth.

He tried to control his breathing. But a little demon had taken control of his lungs, squeezing them like a bellows. She stood beside the bed where she’d neatly piled her clothes, shoes on top, and blinked at him like a fawn ready to scamper for cover.

“Well…” He moved past her to the case beside the bed, but the space was narrow, and their arms brushed. He remembered to breathe and move on. Dipping his hand into his case, he found his toothpaste and straightened. He knew he shouldn’t stare at her. He knew he shouldn’t. And yet…“Lucky shirt,” he said softly.

Her lips parted slightly, and for a second he thought she might come to him, but in a moment her fists tensed.

“Sorry,” he said quickly and took a step toward her. “I…uh…I’d like to thank you.”

She remained where she was. It was funny—she could be as fierce as a badger in a pinch, or she could be like this, all feathery softness and eyes as big as the sky.

“I’m just doing my job,” she said.

He almost smiled, because her words were so adorable when she was standing there in his oversized shirt and silk boxer shorts.

“This may be above and beyond the call of duty,” he said and grinned a little.

The corner of a smile tilted her lips.

He took two more steps nearer and now, because he couldn’t help himself, he touched her face. “I won’t forget it,” he murmured. “Not for as long as I live.” Her hair was soft, conjuring up a hundred tactile images in his mind.

“When I was a boy we used to go trail riding every fall. Sometimes I’d find milkweed pods and break them open. The down was as soft as silk. I’d slide my fingers through it and feed it to the wind as I rode along.” He smoothed her hair gently back, skimming his fingers along her jaw and across her ear. “Your hair feels like that. Like freedom and wind and homespun dreams.”

Her shiver was almost imperceptible, but he felt it nevertheless. There was nothing he could do but touch his lips to hers. The caress was like magic, like the spark of a firefly, bright as hope, warm as summer. But he didn’t rush it, didn’t dare.

And she came to him. Her lips moved gently against his, and her hand, narrow and delicate and cautious as a fawn, slipped beneath his shirt. He almost moaned against the ecstasy of that simple touch, almost lifted her in his arms and carried her to bed. But he did not. Instead, he let her lead the way.

Their kiss deepened, her hand slipped sideways, rippling across his abdomen. He pulled back slightly and sucked in his breath, forcing himself to remain still beneath her tentative touch. Her fingertips were like magic, setting him ablaze as they trailed upward, exploring, touching, brushing over his pectoral, his nipple. He gritted his teeth at the fierce sensations. Her hand cupped his chest, trailed along the muscle, taut with tension, beneath his arm and then around to his back.

Nathan could wait no longer. Gently brushing aside her
collar, he kissed her throat. The softness of her skin was like Scotch, hot, rich, and intoxicating. He moved lower. Her top button sighed open and he kissed her there. Another button, another kiss, at the top of her breast this time.

She gasped, but didn’t move, one fist clasped tight in his shirt, the other lying flat against his burning side. “I’ve got to go.”

“Too fast.” He felt taut with desire and the burning need for discipline. “Sorry. I’m doing my best…” He fought to control his breathing. “Trying not to scare you.”

“What?” The word was a whisper against his cheek.

He snapped his gaze to hers, knowing immediately that he’d made a mistake. “I mean, I’m sorry I was scared. It’s not very…macho.”

“That’s not what you said. You said you’re trying not to scare me.”

Oh damn! “I’m trying not to
be
scared,” he said. “Having you here makes me forget—” he scanned for possibilities “—forget that someone broke into the sanctity of my room. Dared—”

“You were never scared,” she said, her tone tight.

Damn! It was the word sanctity that had given him away. It was too big for a simple guy like him. Cowboys should stick to words like “shucks” and “dang.” “I was scared. I
am
scared,” he countered. And it was true. He was afraid she’d never let him near her. Never let him past her guard, into her trust, into her heart

“Tell me the truth,” she rasped.

“Well…”

“You weren’t!” she said, pushing him away. “It’s all a game to you. Nathan Fox, superstar—lionized, idolized, invincible. You don’t believe you need a bodyguard, and even if you did, you wouldn’t believe in me. You never did.”