One Night with her Bodyguard (8 page)

Her gaze cut from
Michael to Claire and then back again. “Is this the one?” she asked softly.

Michael met Claire’s
eyes briefly before he answered. “She’s the one.”

“Everything is good?”

“Yes, everything is
good.”

For a moment, Claire
was sure the woman knew exactly what was going on and what her son’s words
meant. But then she drifted into disorientation again because she muttered,
“I’m so sorry about the bike.”

“What’s the bike?”
Claire asked, partly out of curiosity and partly because his mother was looking
at her when she said the words.

“It’s nothing. Just an
old story from the past.” Michael had glanced away diffidently.

“It’s not nothing,” his
mother said. “He was only ten years old, and he wanted a beautiful blue,
ten-speed bike. We couldn’t afford it, so he worked all summer mowing lawns to
save money for it. Weeks and weeks and weeks he worked. Way too hard for such a
little boy.”

Raising a hand to her
chest at the thought of Michael as that boy, Claire asked, “What happened?”

“Someone stole his
money. An older boy in the neighborhood.”

“Oh, no,” Claire
breathed, her voice cracking. She glanced at Michael, who wouldn’t meet her
eyes.

“He knew who it was,
and he tried to get it back. He came back black and blue with a cracked rib. He
wouldn’t tell us who had done it to him.” The memory hurt his mother so much
that one of her eyes streamed with tears. “He was only ten. My poor little
boy.”

“Oh, no,” Claire said
again, swallowing over the emotion. “He never got the bike?”

“We tried to save
enough to buy it for him, but we just couldn’t scrape out enough. He never got
the bike. I’m so sorry, Mikey.”

“It’s not your fault.”
Michael’s voice was rougher than normal. “Please don’t worry about it, Mom. It
was a long time ago. I never needed the bike.”

If she hadn’t
understood before why he’d left her that morning, she understood perfectly now.

In some ways, Michael
was still that boy—working so hard and expecting to never really get what he
wanted. So much so that he wasn’t comfortable asking for it.

Even with the quiet
time for recovery she’d had earlier, it was still too much for Claire. She had
to leave the room.

She walked the halls
for a few minutes, trying to pull herself together, telling herself she was
just emotional because it had been such a long twenty-four hours, that she’d
return to her normal quiet composure soon.

Very soon.

She’d wandered into a
small reception area and was looking out the window at a pleasant, grassy lawn
when she felt a warm arm wrap around her middle from behind.

Michael pressed himself
against her back.

“Hi,” she managed to
say.

He’d tilted his head, trying
to see her expression. “It was a long time ago, Claire. It was no big deal.”

She shook with
suppressed emotion. “It
was
a big deal. It was…it was terrible.”

“My mom is just hung up
on it, but it really wasn’t any sort of tragedy. Please don’t get upset about
it. It was just one of things.”

She lost her fight for
control. She turned around and sobbed a few times into his chest.

“Damn it, Claire,” he
said, holding her very tightly. “Please don’t cry over such a silly thing.”

“I can’t help it,” she
choked out, pulling back and gazing up at him “I just love that little boy.”

His face softened.
“That little boy hasn’t existed in a really long time.”

She sniffed. “I love
the man too.”

He grabbed her face so
suddenly she gasped. “Do you mean that?”

“Well, yeah. Don’t you
love me too?”

He leaned forward and
kissed her, still cupping her face like it was precious. “Of course, I love
you.”

“Good. I’m glad.” She
shifted from foot to foot. “I hate to break the romantic moment, but if I don’t
get some alone time soon I’m literally going to pass out.”

Michael laughed. “I’ve
got some things to do anyway. We can go ahead and leave. Let me just say
goodbye to my mother.”

 When they went back to
the room, his mother was out of it again. She must be getting tired, since she
didn’t seem to know who they were or what was going on.

But she mumbled out a
question to Michael, “So you finally got the bike?”

Michael paused for a
moment before he answered. But then he said, “Yes. I got the bike.”

***

Claire woke up feeling pleasantly groggy and much
less emotionally strained.

She’d gotten to her
father’s place and had gone immediately to take a two-hour nap. It didn’t
matter how completely in love she was or how exhilarated she felt about getting
together with Michael. She still needed some alone time if she wanted to
function.

But she felt good as
she stretched on the bed of the room she’d grown up in. She was lying on top of
the covers, with just a cashmere throw pulled over her.

She wondered what
Michael was doing. He’d come to the house with her, but she assumed he’d left
to go home afterwards.

On that thought, she
reached over to grab her phone and dialed his number.

“Hey,” he said when he
picked up, his voice warm in a way that made her want to melt into a sappy
puddle.

“Hi. Where are you?”

“In the office
downstairs.”

She gave an outraged
huff. “It’s supposed to be your vacation.”

“I was just clearing
out some loose ends. I didn’t have anything else to do.”

“Well, you could just
take it easy.”

“I’m happy to take it
easy now. Are you ready for some company?”

“Sure. What did you
want to do?”

Instead of an answer,
she heard a tap on her bedroom door.

She laughed and called
out, “Come in.”

Michael stepped into
the room with a smile and closed the door behind him. He looked absolutely
adorable in his wrinkled trousers and dress shirt, but he also looked really
tired. She could see it in his eyes and in his posture.

Her smile fading, she
said, “You should have taken a nap too.”

Since she made no move
to get off the bed, he came over to sit on the edge. “I’m not inclined to nap
in the middle of the day.”

“Well, you should
reconsider that inclination. You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”

“No.”

“Even after you caught
that guy?”

He gave a half-shrug.

“Why not?”

He glanced away.

“Michael, why not?”

“I thought it would be
my only night with you. I wasn’t going to miss any of it sleeping.”

She was pretty sure her
face reflected the surge of emotion she felt as she reached out her arms to
pull him into a hug. When they finally pulled apart, he was stretched out on
the bed beside her.

“Don’t get sappy on
me,” he murmured dryly. “One of the things I love about you is that you don’t
always feel compelled to talk.”

She made a face. “I
didn’t say a word.”

“Uh huh.” He turned on
his side to face her.

“Did you talk to my dad
about your job?”

“Yeah. I have a month’s
worth of vacation days built up, so he told me to take them. Then he said
there’s a position in security at the studio that’s going to open up next
month. The one he offered me a few years ago. He said there wouldn’t be any
conflict of interest with my working that job.”

She perked up at this piece
of news. “Really? What about your mom?”

“He said she should
stay where she is. I tried to argue, but he wouldn’t budge.”

“He prides himself on
taking care of his people. He’ll just get offended if you don’t let him.”

“He’s pretty great.”

She bloomed, as if he’d
given her a personal compliment. “I know he is.”

Michael leaned over to
give her a little kiss. “He’s got a pretty great daughter too.”

She smiled against his
lips, but she was frowning as she pulled away. “You turned down that job
before. Are you sure you’ll be happy doing it?”

“Of course. It’s a
great job and right up my alley.”

“Then why did you turn
it down before?”

He glanced away from
her again, the way he always did when he didn’t want to answer.

She didn’t want to
force him to answer if he was uncomfortable, but she also really wanted to
know. “Did it have something to do with me?”

“Maybe.” When she just
kept looking at him, he finally admitted, “I never would have seen you if I
took that job. I didn’t think I could have you, but I still wanted to see you.”

Her face twisted
slightly.

“Don’t,” he warned.
“Remember what I said about getting sappy.”

She choked on a little
laugh. “Well, you’re really pushing my ability to resist. I’m a girl, you
know.”

“I am well aware of
that.” His voice sounded a little thick in a way that gave her very particular
ideas. As if he was reading her mind, he asked in that same tone, “So how are
you feeling?”

“Good.”

“You had enough alone
time?”

“Yeah.”

“So what did you want
to do this afternoon?”

She knew what he wanted
to do. She could see the hot tension smolder in his eyes. But he hadn’t made
any move on her, holding himself back the way he’d always done. “What did
you
want to do?” she asked.

“I’m flexible.”

Slightly concerned that
he was going to continue his old habit of self-denying restraint, she frowned
at him. “This is never going to work if you don’t let me know what you want.”

“You’re putting a lot
of pressure on making plans for the afternoon, aren’t you?”

She ignored his dry
tone. “You know what I mean. We’re in a relationship now, aren’t we? I’d never
expect you to spill your guts, but you need to let me know what you want and
need. This is about you as much as me.”

He didn’t respond, but
his eyes met hers and she knew he understood what she was trying to say.

After a minute, she
asked again, “So what did you want to do?”

“I’d like to have sex,
if it’s not too much trouble.”

She burst into laughter
and rolled over on top of him, loving the feel of his big, warm, strong body
beneath her. “I guess I can muddle through such a thing, but it will be a real
sacrifice on my part.”

His hands slid down to
cup her bottom, and he was smiling with only his eyes. “If you’d rather be
alone…”

“Certainly not. I’m
shy
,
but that doesn’t mean I don’t like to have a lot of sex.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

They were both smiling
when they started to kiss and, even when they both got hungry and urgent, they
didn’t really stop smiling.

Neither of them had
transformed into new people, but everything had changed just the same.

And it had happened in
only one night.

About
the Author

Noelle handwrote her
first romance novel in a spiral-bound notebook when she was twelve, and she
hasn’t stopped writing since. She has lived in eight different states and
currently resides in Virginia, where she teaches English, reads any book she
can get her hands on, and offers tribute to a very spoiled cocker spaniel.

She
loves travel, art, history, and ice cream. After spending far too many years of
her life in graduate school, she has decided to reorient her priorities and
focus on writing contemporary romances. For more information, please check out
her website: noelle-adams.com