His Bodyguard (7 page)

“You’ll have to beg me,” he said, leaning in.

“And just…” She was breathing too hard, and she’d barely eaten all day. It would be damned embarrassing if she passed out before he even touched her. It’d probably be a dead giveaway that she was a little bit nervous. “And just my lips.”

“Where else did you have in mind?” he asked and lifted his hand toward her cheek.

“No!” She cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Hands by your sides.”

He did as requested. “Ready?”

No! She nodded.

He smiled into her eyes, tilted his head, and kissed her.

Lightning flashed just behind her eyeballs, searing her nerve endings and turning her brain to cinders. Sensations tingled from her lips, scampering off in every direction, setting off a thousand alarm bells. Her knees went weak and her toes curled in her tennis shoes.

An instantaneous eternity passed. But finally Brenna realized he had drawn away and was watching her face. She opened her eyes and noted with some horror that she was plastered against the wall like spattered paint. Her knees were shaking and her head felt light, but she had her pride. Somewhere. She searched for it frantically for a moment, then, “Am I allowed to leave now?”

He watched her, his eyes slightly narrowed, and then he nodded once.

“Fine.” She peeled her back from the wall, hoping all her body parts came with her, hoping the steam coming from her brain wasn’t visible, hoping her knees remembered which way to bend. “Hook the chain behind me,” she reminded him, and left.

A
LUMBERJACK
.

Nathan took another swig of his drink. He could be a lumberjack. That was a manly job. And he liked trees.

He finished his whiskey, straight up, and motioned for another.

Or a road mender. Standing out there deflecting traffic in blaze orange. A man’s man.

A truck driver. The good thing about being a truck driver was that he could get really butt-ugly fat and no one would give a damn. In fact, it was probably a requirement for truck drivers.

A professional bull rider. He nodded at his suddenly empty glass. He’d done some bull riding and planned to do more. It was scary as hell. But nobody would think he was a wimp once his nose had been broken a half-dozen times. Even little Miss O’Sashay would think him a real man.

Geez! A bodyguard! A woman bodyguard. And now…now he couldn’t even kiss. And it wasn’t as if O’Shay was some movie star or something. She was a small-town kind of girl. Although she mulishly refused to talk about her upbringing, he guessed her roots weren’t all that different from his. But he wasn’t even man enough to tempt her.

Damn. When he was ranching, he may have worked his tail off, but at least when he had some time off, he could raise a spark or two with the hometown girls.

What the hell had happened to him? His dad had been right all along. The music business did turn men into pansies. Come morning he’d be plucking petals out of his ears.

Nathan took another swig, but the glass was dry. He scowled, licked the rim, and motioned for another.

The bartender was quick. He liked that in a bartender. Maybe he should be a bartender, he thought, and glanced toward the man’s retreating back. But his attention was snagged by a woman perched on one of the high stools.

Legs. The woman had legs, he thought, then chuckled to himself, because most women had legs. He drank again and turned his eyes back to her. Her hair was red, and from the back she looked like…

It couldn’t be! O’Shay couldn’t have followed him, he thought wildly, then scoffed at himself. Geez! What was wrong with him? If he wanted to slip out alone for a private drink, he’d damn well do it. She wasn’t his mother…or his wife…or his lover.

Damn.

The woman at the bar turned toward him. It wasn’t O’Shay. Nate made a mental note to be happy about that and raised his glass to her. He was surprised when a goodly portion of the liquid sloshed across his fingers.

She had a nice body, shapely, a little full in the hips but, hey, he was going to be a truck driver.

Another sip.

She had a pretty face. But the really good thing about her was…she probably hadn’t kicked anyone in the head all day.

The memory of his own bodyguard sent a hot wave of emotion through him. He slapped his glass to the table and stood up to leave, but as he did so, his gaze lifted to the woman at the bar once more.

She smiled at him. He grinned back, though her smile did nothing for him, no sparks of emotion, no sweaty hands, nothing.

But suddenly the man beside her stood up. He was big as a Brahma bull and not half so friendly looking. His lips were drawn back in a snarl and as he sauntered toward Nathan, fatty muscles rolled up his bare arms and over his neck.

Grinding to a halt not twelve inches from Nathan, he dropped his head between his shoulder blades like a hunting vulture and said, “You starin’ at my woman, pretty boy?”

Nathan grinned. Testosterone, hot as hell and sharp as ice, flared through his system. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he said in his very best Yankee accent. “She’s not badlooking…for a Texas gal.”

“N
ATHAN
!” B
RENNA FLEW
across the barroom and fell to her knees. “Nathan.”

Her hands shook as she touched his face. His nose was bleeding, his cheek was cut, and his shirt was torn and bloody.

“Nathan, what happened?”

He grinned up at her. “Been fightin’.”

“I’m going to call the police.”

“No!” He caught her hand and pulled her back down beside him.

“I tried to break it up,” said the bartender. Brenna turned to him. He was a big, apologetic-looking man. “I told ‘em I was calling the cops. But that MacKenzie, it was like he was crazy.”

“He had a friend,” Nathan said. His grin had not diminished an iota.

Brenna felt tears prick her eyes. She’d heard of people getting so badly wounded that they became delirious. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have found you earlier.”

“
Big
friend,” Nate said.

“They call him Viking,” the bartender added. “He’s worse than MacKenzie.”

“Yeah.” Nathan sighed. “I think he broke my nose.”

“God, Nathan, not your nose.” Brenna’s fingers trembled against his cheek.

“They carried him out,” Nate added. “Big fat lugger. I’m gonna get fat” He sighed as if content with the world.

“Where are the police?” Brenna asked, all but sobbing.

“This ain’t such a good part of town, miss,” the bartender said. “Sometimes they’s a little slow.”

“Call an ambulance.”

“Don’t want an ambulance,” Nathan said. “The guy had a right hook like the kick of a mule. Damn near knocked me clear out of Texas.”

“I’m going to get you to a hospital.”

“How’d you find me?” he asked.

She noticed that when he looked at her, his eyes didn’t quite focus and hoped it was because he was intoxicated and not because his brains had been pulverized into mashed bananas. Although, when she’d first realized he was gone, she’d threatened to do just that herself.

After the kiss, she’d spent the first half hour trying to figure out how to operate her knees. The second had been spent pacing. Finally, she’d tried to sleep, but there had been little hope of that.

In the end, her pride in tatters, and her hormones torqued into overdrive, she’d gone to his room.

When Brenna had rushed down to the front desk, the woman there had remembered Nathan, even though he hadn’t used his real name. He’d said he needed a drink in a good old boys’ bar. The rest had been easy enough. It hadn’t taken a top-notch detective to find him in a town of ten thousand.

“Where’s the nearest hospital?” she asked the bartender.

“Don’t need a hospital,” Nathan slurred.

“Listen, Fox—”

“You listen, O’Say.” He chuckled at his own mistake. “O’Say,” he said again. “Ohhh say can you see by the stars in my head.” He laughed then, until he was crunched up on the floor, favoring his ribs. “Oh God. Whew, I feel good.”

“Call an ambulance.”

“You call an ambulance, you won’t never see me again, sweetheart,” Nathan said.

“And where would you go?”

“I’d ssslip right out of there.” He nodded. “Become a truck driver.” He said it like a small boy dreaming big dreams.

“You need your head examined.”

“Yup. Take me to my room, O’Say. I think I’m tired.”

“I think you’re stupid.”

“Yup. But I’m a man.”

T
HE TAXI RIDE WAS SHORT
and not too horrific. The trip across the hotel lobby and up to his room was worse. But finally they reached Nathan’s door. Brenna slipped the key into the lock and helped him inside.

He crawled onto the bed, rested a moment, and finally flopped over on his back. Brenna stared down at him for a moment.

He stared back, one eye swollen half shut. “Bet you find me attractive now, huh?” he said.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

“’Bout this?” He motioned vaguely toward his face. “This is nothing. Once when I was riding bulls…” He paused to catch either his breath or his line of thought—she couldn’t tell which. “I got throwed good. Knocked me senseless for a second. By the time I got to my feet…woosh.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Bull hooked me like I was a sunfish.”

Brenna winced and eyed his chest. Several buttons had been wrenched from his shirt during the melee, and she was tempted nearly beyond control to brush her fingers across the exposed skin. “Is that where you got the scar?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He grinned and rubbed his scar as if inordinately proud. “Nice one, huh? Got another rodeo in August. Wanna come and see me take a beating?”

Tears suddenly stung her eyes. “I’ll get a washcloth,” she said, and hurried away.

A minute later, with her emotions under better control, she returned with an ice bucket half filled with cold water and settled her hip on the edge of the mattress. He watched her face as she gently dabbed the blood from his nose. The room was silent.

“So why aren’t you married, Ms. O’Say?” he asked.

She cleared her throat and hoped she wouldn’t cry. “Why aren’t you?”

He shook his head, then scowled as if any quick movement wasn’t such a good idea. “Life on the road,” he said. “Tough. Rover’s been divorced twice. Did you know that? Never sees his kids. And Fry. Once. What kind of woman’d want to buy into this kinda life?”

She remained quiet for a moment, but it seemed to be an honest question, so she answered finally. “Quite a few, I’d think.”

He snorted. “Yeah. But what
kind?
They’re—” he sighed “—not like Mom. Shauna…I thought she was. ‘Course, I stole her from Sarge in the first place, so I suppose he’s got a right to be a pain in the ass. But they’re back together, you know.”

His eye looked horrible. God, she’d made a mess of things. “No.” She sniffed. “I didn’t know.”

He nodded. “’Course he doesn’t see her much, seein’s how he’s married to his clipboard. Him and Shauna were singing together before I ever hooked up with them. They were set on making it big. But—”

“What?”

He grinned. “Sarge says
he
grew up. Now he baby-sits me. Surprised me he could give up the dream.”

“Of being a star?”

“Yeah. Damn dream’s got a bite like a damned sheepdog. Most guys can’t give it up without getting bitter.”

“How about Shauna?” She knew she shouldn’t ask. There was probably nothing lower than prodding a man for information when he was drunk.

“She’s a nurse in Nebraska. She used to be good though. When I first saw her on stage…” He sighed. “She was a country gal. Wheat farmers. Can ride horse and everything.”

She let the words lie there, but she couldn’t hold back the question for long. “You’re still in love with her?” The question didn’t sound quite so innocuous as she’d intended.

But Nathan merely turned his gaze to the ceiling. “If I
was sober I’d say naw. But I’m sauced. Maybe you couldn’t tell.”

“I thought maybe.”

“Yeah, I’m drunk as a skunk. I mean, I’m sloppy drunk. So I don’t know. Could be I still got feelings for her, or maybe I’m still in love with the idea.”

“What idea?”

“Of having a woman. A woman who cares, you know, ’bout
me.
Not about The Fox. ‘Bout me.”

Somehow his wrist had flopped over her thigh, and her hip was pressed quite firmly against his waist His dark hair was damp and brushed away from his bruised forehead, and his discolored face looked painfully vulnerable.

“You think that’s too much to ask, O’Shay? Love, marriage, maybe a couple of kids that call me dad. Or
daddy
like you say down here. Ty and Hannah, they got them a little daughter—Amanda,” he said dreamily. “If I had me a daughter I’d spoil her rotten.”

He made it sound achingly sweet Her heart did a painful little twist in her chest But it wasn’t her dream, not her dream at all.
This
was her dream—to be in law enforcement, to prove herself. She swallowed and didn’t even try to talk.

He lifted his hand to her cheek and brushed his nail pads, soft as thistledown, against her cheek. She closed her eyes to the shiver of feelings.

“I can imagine you as a little girl,” he whispered. “All giggles and hugs. Little…” He thought for a moment, his expression somber, his eyes intense. “Brenda? Bonnie? Bridget?” he guessed.

She didn’t help him out, but he didn’t seem to care.

“Your daddy must of been so proud he could bust.”

She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the emotions, but it was no use. He drew out some horribly weak part deep inside her. There was no hope for it. Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his.

He slipped a hand behind her neck, urging her gently closer. The caress deepened. Brenna’s heart slammed against the hard plane of his chest. She trembled in his arms. His
fingers slipped over her shoulder, down her arm…and fell to the bed.

She started, glanced at his hand, limp against the coverlet, then hurried her gaze to his face.

Damn it all. He was asleep.

“F
OX
.” B
RENNA KNOCKED LIGHTLY
on his door. It was only seven in the morning. But she’d been up for hours. Now, showered, dressed, and composed, she swore she could face him like a professional. She knocked again. “Fox?”

“If you don’t have a medical diploma, go away.”

“Fox,” she called again, but he didn’t answer, so she pushed her key into his lock and let herself in.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed and glanced up when she stepped into his sleeping quarters. He looked like hell.

“How do I look?”

“Not bad,” she lied.

He laughed, but it sounded rather like a croak. “You ought to take lying lessons, O’Shay. I look like hell.”

“I wouldn’t say hell…exactly.”

He dropped his face gently back into his hands and chuckled.

She grinned and stepped forward. “I brought you something.”

“Is it a forty-five?”

“I don’t think suicide’s the answer.”

“You’re right, I might as well just wait and die a natural death. I don’t think it’ll be much longer.”

“Here.” She sat down beside him and nudged his elbow with the ceramic cup she held in her hand.

He peeked at it through his swollen eye. “What is it?”

“My secret weapon for hangovers.”

“You an expert?”

“Kind of. My brothers liked for me to play nurse.”

“You got brothers?”

“Five of them. All big-drinking Irishmen and not a casualty yet”

“Yeah?” He straightened slightly, trying to see into the
cup. But she kept the top carefully covered with her hand. “What’s in it?”

“I told you it’s a secret. You have to drink it all right down.”

“Then I’ll be cured?”

“Well, pretty soon.”

“Promise?”

He looked pathetic. Almost pathetic enough to make her warn him that the cure was nearly as bad as the malady. “Promise,” she said.

“Okay.” He reached for the cup.

“Plug your nose.”

“Huh?”

“Plug your nose. Swallow it all.”

“Got it,” he said, took the cup, downed the contents, then sat there with his eyes as big as dinosaur eggs as he gasped for breath.

Brenna pried the cup from his fingers, then quickly stood and cleared a path to the bathroom.

It took only a couple of seconds before he launched from the bed and sprang for the toilet

Brenna turned her back and made faces at the wall as disgusting sounds echoed through the room. Finally, there was a lull, then the sound of running water and tooth-brushing.

Nearly five minutes passed before Nathan emerged. He dragged himself to the bed, curled up on the mattress, and stared blankly at the wall. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

Brenna stepped carefully closer. She’d learned early on that some people appreciated her cure more than others. “Me what?”

“You sent the letters, didn’t you? You’re the one trying to kill me.”

She laughed a little. “It’s not that bad. Really. You’ll feel better in a minute.”

“I’ll be dead in a minute,” he croaked.

Nervously, she sat back down on the mattress. “I wanted to apologize.”

“So I really am going to die?”

She smiled, knowing she shouldn’t sit so close. Knowing she was playing with fire and was fresh out of asbestos. “I, um…I think I was overzealous.”

The room was silent.

“At the gas station,” she added. “I shouldn’t have decked that guy.” She glanced at his muscular torso where his shirt flopped open, baring far too much skin for her to think properly. “I know you could have handled him. It’s just that…” She let out a breath. “Sometimes people don’t take me seriously. Y’ know…my being a bodyguard. It could be I’ve been trying too hard.”

Nathan remained as he was for a moment, then reached up to gently brush his knuckles along her cheek. “Could be I’ve been acting like an ass,” he said, his voice a soft caress.

Desire sparked through her. She looked away, trying to calm her hormones, but that was about as effective as a garden hose on an inferno. “I was thinking we could start over.”

“Good idea,” he murmured.

One kiss. Just one kiss, her mind whispered. She shushed the nasty little voice. “On a strictly professional basis.”

He brushed the ridge of her lower lip with his thumb. A shiver ran through her, fine as gossamer.

“Professional,” he whispered.

“I’m, um…” She tried to keep breathing as his fingers skimmed her jaw then ran up the outer shell of her ear. “I’m your bodyguard.”

“Right.”

His hand slipped beneath her hair. Brenna closed her eyes to the delicious feelings.

“We won’t let it be anything else,” she whispered.

“Of course not” He gently urged her closer.

She was breathing hard through her parted lips. “No matter how badly I want to.”

“I want to, too,” he murmured, and she was lost His lips touched hers.

“Fox.” Knuckles rapped on the door a moment before it was swung open.

Brenna jumped like a cat from a skillet The cup flew out
of her hand, bounced off the wall, and landed spinning on the carpet.

“Whoa!” Fry said, his eyebrows out of sight

“This isn’t…I didn’t…This isn’t what it seems,” Brenna stuttered.