The Bodyguard's Baby (Billionaire Bodyguard Series) (4 page)

He smirked. “What gives you the impression I’m well adjusted?”

“Oh, come on.” On the way out she nudged him.
“You’re pretty normal. You have a good job, a good sense of humor, a good moral compass.”

“Smoke and mirrors, sweetheart,” he said without looking at her. “I’m just as scarred as the rest of them. Besides, how normal is it to be living with the girl I’m protecting, for who knows how long?”

Another good point.

They left the building and she cringed against the cold blast of wind that sank into the spaces between her scarf and coat. Stepping outside of herself and her personal baby drama—with her emotions driven to extremes by the added hormones—she considered the arrangement from his perspective. He was essentially stuck with her ranging bitchiness twenty-four/seven, except for sleep. Probably the only hours of the day he looked forward to. She couldn’t seem to tap into her old, optimistic, carefree self anymore, and that bothered her.

At least if he was a bodyguard to some Head of State or a celebrity, he’d have personal time. He could even bring a girl home if he wanted to, without a long explanation and a good dose of awkwardness. It wouldn’t be rude, exactly, though for some inexplicable reason she knew she’d feel bad if he brought home a random female to spend the night. She knew that was totally unfair. After all, she had her man files, picking out a sperm donor right under his nose. God, this arrangement was fraught with uncomfortable scenarios they had to navigate through with each other, practically strangers, forced to work through their differences regardless of their personal desires.

Then she wondered…what kind of women did Slone date?

A few light flurries caught in her eyelashes as they walked toward his gigantic Dodge Ram 4x4 truck. For some reason she felt colder than she should in thirty-eight degrees. The chill seemed to sink into her bones, and she pined for the dry Las Vegas heat. But the warm recollections of her hometown didn’t hold her attention for long. Her thoughts continued circling back to Slone. Specifically, what kind of woman he’d have in his bed if he wasn’t glued to her side. A blonde Barbie doll like Logan Stone’s wife Allison? Or lean and lithe like Devon, Trey Soren’s wife? Or maybe, possibly, extra curvy like Kylie—like herself?

As she hopped up into the passenger seat, she frowned. No way would he go for an overweight hormonal female, trying to get pregnant by a stranger, who laughed at his dry humor one minute then snapped at him the next.

What does it matter?
she thought, as he pulled out of the parking lot.
He’s not an option, so don’t go down that dead end street. No matter how much you want to imagine how good it would be…

Right then and there, she decided on the doctor.

The man wasn’t Slone, but that’s the closest she would come to her perfect ideal.

No expectations. No regrets.

No minds changed last-minute.

No hearts broken.

Late in the evening, long after Slone had masterfully convinced her superintendent to allow him to join her at school, Lindsey stared into the fire and wondered when her emotions had become tangled up in Slone.

By all accounts and outward appearances, they had nothing in common. They didn’t even like each other. They argued far more than they got along.

Earlier at dinner he’d made fun of her eco-friendly lifestyle when she blew up at him for not recycling his Red Bull can. He’d muttered something about her being a tree-hugging hippy, informing her of all the gross acts of environment negligence rampant in the world. She told him to shove it and stomped off—after throwing her dinner in the garbage.

Real mature, Lindsey.

For him, being surrounded by elementary school kids would be a welcome relief from dealing with her mood swings. At least he could scold them, send them to the principal’s office, or put them in time out. Not so much with a grown woman, when his boss—who was engaged to her sister—signed his paychecks. She almost felt sorry for Slone.

Almost.

If he didn’t jab at her constantly, maybe they could attempt a friendship. But he seemed unable to help himself, and she seemed unable to keep from rising to his bait. The most inappropriate things flew out of his mouth and dug under her skin. He was a good-looking rose with way too many thorns. The big, sexy jerk.

So why then, on evenings when he handed her a dish to rinse and their fingers brushed, did sparks fly through her and bury their electric energy in her core? How could she be so attracted to him—waking up in the middle of the night, tangled in sheets, desperate for his touch anywhere on her body—when they had nothing in common and she wasn’t even sure she liked him?

At least she’d decided on the doctor, so he couldn’t harass her about her “man files” anymore. No matter how agitated she became with him, she refused to cry. Then he’d win, and she felt unusually feisty and competitive of late.

Ugh, she missed her old self. Presently, her emotional tolerance was shot. She wasn’t fit for company, even Slone’s.

Dragging the afghan more snugly around her shoulders, she stared at the fire and the coals glowing like a vibrant family under the grate. Wait…that’s exactly what she needed. Her family. Real companionship with someone she knew and trusted. She missed her sister, spending time together, talking about anything and everything. The way they used to, finishing each other’s sentences like twins, totally in sync. She glanced at the clock on the mantel. It read 12:30 a.m. Too late now, but tomorrow she’d call Kylie and they’d go to lunch or have dinner together.

As her mind wandered, she let herself dip into forbidden territory. What if she and Slone did have a baby?

From the start of her fertility treatments, she’d imagined what her baby might be like. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she’d always pictured a baby boy. She envisioned the moment the doctors handed over her son, after she’d given birth to him. Kylie and Cade would be in the viewing window, unless Kylie convinced the staff to let her in as Lindsey’s moral support and hand to hold. No doubt Kylie’s shark-like lawyer instincts would work in their favor. And Kylie was her closest family.

Lindsey would hold her newborn baby in her arms like the most precious miracle. She’d inhale his newborn scent. She’d kiss him a dozen times. And a dozen times more. She’d feel an overwhelming sense of love and devotion. Eventually, she would lift her baby to her breast, and they’d share an incomparable moment of bonding.

Oh, God,
she ached for the reality. The added hormones in her system must’ve been driving her deeper into her fantasies of holding him, staring at her baby’s perfection.

Picturing the moment her newborn opened his eyes, she imagined herself peering down into them, her soul awash with love. And his eyes were gray-blue.

Wait, what?

Startled out of the fantasy, she sat upright. No. Slone’s gray eyes had no business appearing in her baby daydreams. Her imagination had no right bringing him into any of this. She wanted to berate Marissa for planting Slone in her mind as a potential candidate.

Disgruntled, she repositioned herself before the fire and forced Slone to the very back of her mind. Until he forced his way right to the front.

Damn him and his dreadful timing.

Beyond the hiss and snap of the fire, she swore she heard the hardwood floors creak upstairs. She listened closely.

With a short exhale, she hoped Slone was just using the bathroom. She heard the toilet flush and sighed with relief.

Then she heard his heavy footsteps on the staircase. Desperate for some peace and quiet with her thoughts, she
curled her hands into fists.

“You still up?” he asked from the landing, his voice scratchy from sleep and completely sexy.

“I am.”

“Is this what you do at night? Sit around all bundled up in the dark?”

“I lit a fire. It’s not that dark.”

He offered a noncommittal grunt. “You do make a decent fire, for a girl.”

Her back tensed like someone had threatened her with a spinal tap. “Just get your glass of water and go to bed. I mean, you do this every night, usually at two in the morning. I don’t see why you can’t take a glass to bed with you and save yourself the trouble.”

“Now look who’s the observant one.”

“If you didn’t bound down the steps like a herd of elephants, I wouldn’t wake up and hear you.”

“Really.” Sarcasm drenched his tone. “Do I look like a guy who ‘bounds’ when he does anything?”

She scowled. “That’s beside the point.”

“Easy, sweetheart. I’m just going to the kitchen for water.”

“Wait, that
is
my point. Why is it so difficult to plan ahead and take it with you so you don’t have to disrupt the entire house in the middle of the night?”

“I wake up every night,” he said calmly, “and come downstairs to make sure everything’s all right. I test the locks on the windows and doors. I scan the cars parked outside for anything suspicious. I look for the guy who walks his dog at that hour like clockwork, puffing on cigarettes, as if his wife won’t notice he smells like smoke. I check on you. Do you find any of this a problem?”

Well, when he put it that way… “I guess not.”

“Good. Because it’s my routine and I’m not changing it.”

“Is your routine for me, for your job—or for you?” she muttered.

“I heard that tone,” he called from the kitchen over the running tap water.

The sink shut off and he returned to the wide opening between the living and dining rooms. “You know,” she said, “you should use the filtered water pitcher in the fridge. It’s cold, plus you’ll avoid all the chlorine and fluoride they unnecessarily inject into city water.”

“Worried about my health and longevity?” he asked, a grin in his voice.

Why? Why did his careless disregard for himself irritate her so much? “God forbid someone look out for your best interests.”

“The same way I look out for yours.” He spoke with quiet intensity.

Unaccustomed to the fond note of caring in his words, she glanced over her shoulder at him. Then she wished she hadn’t. Slone stood bare-chested, leaning one broad shoulder against the crown molding. The light dusting of hair across his pecs helped define the chiseled contours. His bare feet were solidly planted on the floor, and a pair of loose flannel pants cinched his lean waist.

The blood heated in her veins and began pumping to all the wrong places. She clamped her thighs together, despising her indiscriminate libido. This was an impossible attraction, and she knew it. Her body didn’t seem to care.

“Can I join you?” he asked, gesturing at her with his glass of water. The low rumble of his voice reverberated in the air around her.

She shrugged as if his nearness didn’t affect her, or send her pheromones pinging off the walls. “If you want to.”

He strolled to her. “If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have asked.”

“Okay, Captain Obvious.”

A grin curled his lips. “Not sure they have that rank in the military.”

“If they did, you’d be in charge of the entire unit. Worldwide.”

His smile widened showing a flash of white teeth. “That’s one hell of an honor.”

The closer he drew, the more she noticed the play of firelight on his handsome features. The orange glow picked out the natural blonde and auburn highlights in his thick chestnut hair. He had grown it longer since they’d first met, when he’d sported a military style buzz cut. She liked the way the front now sloped toward his forehead with a natural wave, sticking up in some places where he’d finger-combed the strands.

No, I don’t like it. I don’t like anything about him,
she
told herself. But the lie rang hollowly inside her.

“Want me to throw on another log?” he asked.

“Depends on how long you plan to stay.”

Without replying, he passed her and grabbed a log from the pile at the edge of the stone hearth. She couldn’t help watching the way his muscles worked beneath the scarred skin of his back. How would those muscles feel beneath her hands as he moved over her in bed?

Her pulse raced. She licked her lips, realizing too late that inviting him to sit with her had been a bad idea. Too much temptation. God help her, if he reached out to touch her right now she wouldn’t stop him.

But he didn’t.

He sat on the floor a few feet away, leaning his back against the sturdy leather ottoman.

Slone inspected Lindsey from a safe distance. He noticed the way the firelight softly bathed her face. Her profile glowed as if she’d come to Earth from a distant, magical world filled with sunshine and misty meadows, where wishes came true and darkness never reached. The type of darkness he knew all too well. Goddamn, she was beautiful. Too beautiful for his eroding self-restraint. Though he didn’t like the worry that shadowed her mesmerizing eyes.

Setting down his water, he curled his fingers on the tops of his thighs. He battled the urge to gather her between his legs, fold her in his arms, and breathe her in until she filled all his senses.

Just like her sister Kylie, Lindsey held her problems close to the vest, yet wore her emotions too close to the surface, and never failed to prove her strength and inner fortitude. The fascinating combination tugged at his protective nature, made him want to peel back the forbidden layers to explore all the hidden secrets beneath.

Then again, what right did he have wanting her to bare herself before him, when he had no intention of doing the same?

The longer the silence drew out, the more he longed to hear her voice. Sometimes he picked little fights with her just to get her to respond to him. Any response—positive or negative—as long as she acknowledged him as part of her life.

There had been countless nights overseas…he and his men sitting around a fire, talking trash, telling stories that were half-true and mostly embellished, while he yearned to have what they had…a loving family, a wife or girlfriend,
kids at home desperately awaiting their return. He never let on to any of them how much he envied their lives, that sense of belonging in one place, belonging to someone who cared whether he lived or died.

He’d wanted that then, and he wanted it even more now. Now that he was in a better place in his head, in his life. Today he could actually offer something close to resembling normalcy and structure and steadiness, outside of the military where the divorce rate for Navy SEALs crested ninety percent. He’d refused to put a wife and kids through that life. But now…

Now…

“Were you a girl scout?” he asked, shattering the suffocating silence.

She glanced at him oddly. “Why?”

“Because you make a damn good fire.”

“No, but I was part of the Indian Princesses with my dad for a few years.” A smile brightened her face, chasing away the darkness at the edges of his mind. “My dad was a card dealer at a Las Vegas casino, so he worked weekends. But occasionally he’d take me and my sister out of school for a few days of camping in one of the National Parks surrounding Vegas. Those days seemed so special, like a spontaneous vacation. We pitched a tent, he showed me how to build fires, and we’d sit out under the huge sky, filled with stars, and roast hot dogs and marshmallows. He was a great dad. I miss him. Especially now that I’m planning to have a child.”

He wanted to hear more about her family, her past, all the places where she grew up and the events, small and large, that made her who she was. Instead he let her memories spill out however she needed them to right now.

“There’s so much I want to ask him. He always had the best advice—never telling me what to do, just offering thoughtful ideas, letting me decide what choices to make.”

“What about your mom?” Slone knew from the time he’d spent as a bodyguard for Kylie the girls’ mother hadn’t been much of one. Still, he wanted to hear Lindsey’s perspective.

“Kylie and I don’t talk about her.” Lindsey’s voice sounded distant even though she sat cocooned in a blanket a few feet from him. He could’ve reached out and brushed the tips of his fingers across her shoulder, but he presumed she wouldn’t welcome his touch.