One Night with her Bodyguard (2 page)
Read One Night with her Bodyguard Online
Authors: Noelle Adams
This
morning, she didn’t snap back as quickly as usual—probably because she’d gotten
so anxious earlier as she waited in the pantry.
Being
with Michael wasn’t usually hard for her, since she knew him so well. At the
moment, however, she wished he would leave. Even as she tried to close him out
and retreat into her mind for a few moments, she could feel him watching her
silently.
At
least he didn’t say anything. At least he didn’t force her to push through it before
she was ready and then spill all her most intimate feelings as if she were
psychologically ill the way her former stepmother had.
She
heard Michael get up and walk away, and she let out a relieved exhalation at
being left alone, even for a few seconds. The cold wave of vulnerability faded
as she stared down at her hands and envisioned herself painting a desert scene
on an empty canvas.
She
wasn’t even aware that Michael had returned to the dining area until he set a
fresh cup of coffee on the table in front of her, picked up her hand, and
wrapped her fingers around the mug.
She
lifted it to drink automatically.
She
swallowed a sip of coffee and felt a different kind of wave overtake her—this
one of hot embarrassment.
Michael
was as cool, competent, and in control as anyone she’d ever met. He must think
she was a pitiful wreck, not even able to make it through a simple conversation.
She’d
never told him about her social anxiety, but he was around so much he couldn’t
not know about it.
Her
cheeks burned and she took another sip, still unable to meet his eyes.
“Ms.
Kenyon,” Michael said, as if he could somehow tell the difference between her
embarrassed withdrawal now and her restorative withdrawal earlier.
“What?”
He
didn’t reply immediately. When she didn’t meet his eyes, he repeated, “Ms.
Kenyon.”
“I
said
what
?” She was starting to get annoyed.
He
again didn’t reply. Just sat there in infuriating silence. When she still
didn’t lift her eyes, he said again, “Ms. Kenyon.”
His
obnoxiousness pushed her past her embarrassment. She snapped her head up to
glare at him. “For the third time, what the hell do you want?”
Despite
her tone, his eyes were almost mild as they rested on her. “Your father is
expecting us shortly.”
She
scowled but bit back an instinctive retort, since she tried not to act grumpy
with the people who worked for her father.
She
got up and went to her bedroom to get dressed, both her brief paralysis and her
embarrassment completely forgotten.
Thirty-five
minutes later, Claire entered her father’s huge mansion in the Hollywood Hills,
wearing jeans and a green velvet jacket with her dark blonde hair pulled into a
low ponytail.
She’d
been chatting with her father’s chauffeur, Roger, about his wife’s bad case of
the flu, until Michael had cleared his throat to hurry her along. Now Michael was
in his normal position two steps behind her.
Claire
gave a kiss to Stella, her father’s housekeeper of thirty years, and whispered,
“Do you know what’s going on?”
Stella
had greeted her with normal warm affection, but now she pulled back and made a
reluctant face, which meant something unpleasant was going to happen.
“Shit,”
Claire breathed.
Her
father must have found out she’d been sneaking away from her protection.
She
was an adult. Her dad couldn’t force protection on her if she refused, and both
of them knew it. But he would worry himself into a heart-attack if she dug in
her heels about this, and she couldn’t make him suffer that way.
“He’s
on the breakfast porch,” Stella said, with no further information about the
impending unpleasantness.
During
the summer, her father ate breakfast next to the pool, but in the winter he ate
on a large glass sun porch, filled with ferns and potted flowers.
Claire
found him there and took the seat across from him, after leaning over to give
him a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi,
pumpkin,” he said with a smile. “Have some coffee and a muffin.”
She
took a blueberry muffin and poured herself a glass of orange juice, since she
hadn’t had time for breakfast but she’d had plenty of coffee already.
Her
father had been calling her “pumpkin” all her life. When she was a teenager,
she’d spent years trying to correct him, practically begging for him to call
her something less childish.
He’d
never been able to change his habit, and now she didn’t even mind anymore.
She
loved him, and they were the only family either of them had. He could call her
whatever made him happy.
His
eyes—a warm brown that was exactly the same color as hers—rested on her
soberly.
Without
thinking, she turned around to look at Michael, who was standing silently in a
corner of the room, trying to blend into the furniture.
He
must have somehow found out she’d been sneaking out on Thursday nights and
blabbed to her father.
“It’s
not a big deal, Dad,” she said quickly, deciding she better confront this head
on instead of just waiting for it to fall on her head.
Her
father blinked. “It isn’t?”
“No.
It isn’t. Nothing happened. I was perfectly safe. I have to be alone sometimes.
I just
have
to.”
Her
father wasn’t an extreme introvert—he wasn’t an introvert at all—but he’d
always tried to understand her distinct nature. He always did his best to
accommodate her needs, since his Hollywood world often forced her into a lifestyle
that was incredibly difficult for someone with her personality.
She
didn’t want to upset him, but surely he would understand this.
His
eyes had narrowed thoughtfully. “You’re alone when you’re home in your
apartment, aren’t you?”
“Not
really.” She cut another quick glance over to Michael in the corner. “They’re
always hovering.”
“Not
in your apartment, surely.”
“No.
But I know someone is always there. Right outside. I feel them there all the
time. I’ve tried to do my best, since I know the security is important to you.
But I can’t do it all the time. I just
can’t
.”
“I
understand it’s hard for you to have people around you don’t know very well, but
it’s just for a couple of months, until we track down this possible threat.” Her
father was speaking slowly, a little strangely.
“But
I just don’t really think there
is
a threat. I mean, there was one
random note two months ago and then nothing ever since. I can’t live like this.
It’s bad enough for regular people to be surrounded by bodyguards, but for me—”
“You
are
a regular person,” her father cut in, something angry flaring up in
his eyes. “Being introverted isn’t a psychological illness. Don’t you dare
imply otherwise.”
Claire
rubbed her face, both frustrated and touched by her father’s fervor. He’d
gotten remarried when she was twelve, and for the following four years of her
life she’d listened to argument after argument between her dad and stepmother
about whether her extreme shyness was a condition that needed professional
treatment.
Her
stepmother, like a lot of the rest of the world, thought the only way to be
healthy was to be outgoing and willing to talk endlessly about one’s feelings. Her
father disagreed and had continued to disagree until the day they’d gotten
divorced.
“I
know that. I just meant it’s bad enough for people who don’t need to be alone a
lot, but it’s even worse for me. I’m not exaggerating, Dad. If I’m always
surrounded by people, I just can’t…I can’t function.”
“I
know it’s hard, but bodyguards aren’t expecting you to talk to them or even
acknowledge their presence. They’re in the background, like the furniture.”
Claire’s
lips twisted in annoyance as she glanced back at Michael, but he looked as
impervious as ever.
“I’ve
tried to think of them that way, but I can’t. They’re people, Dad. And one or
the other is always,
always
there. I just have to get away a little.
It’s just been once a week and—”
“What?”
her father interrupted, in a half-roar she was very familiar with. “You’ve been
sneaking away from your security?”
Claire
stared, stunned and speechless. Then she suddenly realized what happened.
Her
father hadn’t known. This wasn’t what he’d wanted to talk about this morning.
And
she’d just spilled it all like an absolute idiot.
“Dad,”
she began.
“I’ll
talk to you in just a minute.” He stood up from his chair, his eyes pinning
Michael’s. “Explain to me, right now, how my daughter has managed to get away
once a week without your team knowing about it.”
There
was a reason her father was respected and feared in this town by people who
didn’t respect or fear anyone else. But Michael met the other man’s eyes
evenly, and he didn’t look cowed.
Claire
wasn’t cowed either. She jumped up and grabbed her father’s arm. “Dad, it’s not
Michael’s fault. He wasn’t even on duty when I snuck out.”
“It
is
his fault. He’s in charge of the team, so he’s responsible for
everything that happens on his watch, whether he’s present or not.”
Claire
gulped. She was going to feel horribly guilty if Michael was fired because of
her.
Her
father had previously used a large security firm, and several years ago they’d
sent over Michael as a temporary bodyguard. Michael had just gotten out of the
military—he’d been an Army Ranger—but he was obviously naturally inclined
toward close security work. Her father, recognizing his skill and talent, had
immediately taken him on full-time staff and soon stopped working with the large
firm completely, giving Michael the responsibility of overseeing a private
security team. A couple of years ago, her father had offered Michael a position
with the studio. It was a much more lucrative position with much better work
hours, but Michael had refused to take it for reasons he wouldn’t explain.
Michael
might be frustrating and obnoxious a lot of the time, but he was a decent man
who didn’t deserve to lose his job because of her.
“But
you can’t blame Michael—” she tried again.
“I
do
blame Michael.” He turned back to face the other man. “This is my daughter’s
safety, and there is nothing I take more seriously. Who was on duty when she
snuck out?”
“Rick
Jonas. He’s already been let go.”
Her
father blinked, his mind working quickly. Then his expression relaxed. “You
knew?”
“Yes,”
Michael said. “I knew. Your daughter was never unprotected.”
Claire
sucked in an outraged breath at this barefaced lie. Michael was always long
gone for the night when she snuck out—she would never be fool enough to try to
sneak out while
he
was on duty—and Rick had been completely unaware of
her night trips. He’d been in the exact same position when she left and came
back. There was no way he could have followed her.
At
least the lie would save Michael’s position. She would berate him for hiding
the truth after they’d left her father, when it wouldn’t threaten his job.
Michael
continued, “I knew it was important for her to feel alone, so I didn’t let her
know she was followed. She was never in danger.”
Her
father let out a long exhalation. “Good man. Thank you.”
Claire
sat down, squirming uncomfortably. She didn’t want Michael to get in trouble,
but she didn’t like how grateful and relieved her father looked.
She
hadn’t had protection. If there had been danger on those nights, she would have
been in it.
“Just
so it’s clear, I can refuse protection any time I want. But I don’t want to
upset you, so I’ll try not to do it again.” She dropped her eyes as she spoke,
pulling inward.
“Please
don’t, pumpkin. I don’t have another daughter to replace you.” He reached over
to pat her hand and waited for almost a minute until she raised her eyes again.
Then he continued, “As interesting as this revelation has been, it wasn’t why I
wanted to talk to you today.”
“What
is it?” she asked, having actually forgotten there must have been another purpose
for her summons.
“I
have a favor to ask you,” her father admitted. “But since you came out with
this confession, maybe we can call it a fair trade rather than a favor.”
“What
do you need?” The favor must be something she wouldn’t want to do. He knew she
was happy to help him however she could otherwise, so he would have just called
to ask.
“I’m
in a bit of a PR pickle.”
“You’re
getting bad press about something?” Claire never read the papers or watched any
sort of Hollywood news. She got the national headlines from NPR and simply
didn’t care about politics in this town.