Mountain Shelter. Cassie Miles

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      And she should be able to handle it. “I’ll wait until tomorrow to make the decision whether to postpone or not.”

      “But you need more sleep,” he said. “I can start repairs on your alarm system tonight if you’re ready to go back into your house.”

      “No,” she said quickly. “Not ready. Not tonight.”

      After she’d seen the police charge through the front door with guns drawn to search for intruders, she’d never again be able to think of her home as a sanctuary. She felt attacked, violated. Might as well close it up, burn it, sell it. Jayne was ready to call the real estate agent and hand over the keys.

      Dylan brought her back to reality. “Where do you plan to sleep?”

      With you. The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she kept from saying them out loud. She’d done enough inappropriate blurting for one evening. “I don’t know.”

      “Is there anybody you can call?”

      Her cell-phone directory was filled with colleagues and acquaintances from all around the world, ranging from the president of the American Association of Neurological Surgeons to the teenager who shoveled her sidewalks in winter. But there was no one she could call to come over and take care of her. No one she could stay with at a moment’s notice.

      She pushed the hair off her face and looked up at the surprisingly handsome man who stood before her. “You said you owned a security firm. Do you ever work as a bodyguard?”

      “I do, TST Security.”

      She rose from the swivel chair and straightened the sash on the Brian’s dark green bathrobe. “I’d like to hire you.”

      “You’re on,” Dylan said without the slightest hesitation. It was almost as though he’d been waiting for her to ask.

      “I’ve never had a bodyguard before.”

      “Then I’m the one with experience. I’ve got only one rule—don’t go anywhere without me. For tonight, I’ll put together your suitcase and book a hotel room. Do you have a preference?”

      She was so delighted to have somebody else taking care of the details that she wouldn’t dream of complaining. “Anything is fine with me.”

      “Write down the clothes, including shoes and toiletries, that you want me to pack for you.”

      Her excitement dimmed when she thought of him pawing through her things, but the alternative—going back to the house and doing it herself—was too awful to contemplate. “I’ll make that list right now. And there’s one more thing.”

      “Name it.”

      She held out a flat palm. “Whatever you use to fasten your ponytail, I want it. My messy hair is driving me crazy.”

      He whipped off his baseball cap, untwined the covered-elastic band and dropped it in her hand. “For the record, I like your hair hanging long and free and shiny.”

      His fingers stroked through his own mane, and she realized that his hair was lighter than she’d thought. Thick, full and naturally sun-bleached, the loose strands curled around his face and down to his shoulders. Jayne wasn’t usually a fan of men with long hair, but “the guy” pulled it off. She couldn’t imagine him any other way.

      * * *

      DYLAN HADN’T COME here looking for work. His intention had been a simple response to Brian’s call, helping out a friend with a crazy lady for a neighbor. But he was happy with the way things had turned out; spending time with this particular lady promised to be a challenge and a pleasure.

      With that extra-large bathrobe swaddled around her, he couldn’t tell much about Jayne’s body. But he liked the bits he saw: her slender throat, her delicate hands and her neat ankles. Drooling over her ankles probably qualified him for the Pervert Hall of Fame, so he transferred his gaze to her long, thick, rich brown hair. A few strands escaped the ponytail and fell gracefully across her cheek. Never before had the word “tendril” seemed appropriate.

      He didn’t even pretend to look away. It was his duty to watch her body. He murmured, “I love my job.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I’ll enjoy getting to know you.”

      Her full lips curled in a wise smile as she accepted the compliment. He’d always believed that smart women were sexier, maybe because of their intensity or creativity or strength.

      Then she licked her lips.

      He swallowed hard.

      “Also,” he said, “your break-in is the tip of the iceberg for a very cool puzzle. Your security alarm system is one of the best on the market. Disarming it took technical finesse that’s above the talents of the average burglar. Not that I think the intent of your intruders was robbery. After they entered the house, they went directly to your bedroom.”

      “How do you know that?”

      “While you were writing out the list of things you need, I read your account.” He gestured to the two single-spaced sheets of paper that lay behind her on the desk.

      “How could you read it? The paper is upside-down to you.”

      “It’s a skill.” He shrugged. “Do you think they wanted to rob you? Do you have some hidden treasure in your house?”

      “I don’t keep anything of value at the house.”

      Why did they break in? Since there were two of them, it didn’t seem likely that they were stalkers or that the break-in was for sex. Not his problem. As a bodyguard, he wasn’t expected to solve the crime. “Are you ready to talk to the police?”

      She held her hand level in front of her eyes. “There’s only a slight residual tremor.”

      “Not enough to register on the Richter scale. Let’s move.”

      Keeping a hold on Cocoa’s collar, Dylan guided her from Brian’s home office to the kitchen, where a plainclothes cop sat at the table with Brian. Dylan handed over the dog to his owner and introduced Detective Ray Cisneros, a weary-looking man with heavy-lidded eyes and a neat mustache.

      After Jayne shook his hand and gave him her typed statement, she approached the uniformed lady cop. Her name, as it said on her brass nameplate, was E. Smith. Dylan had met her when he first came in.

      “I need to apologize,” Jayne said. “I’m sorry for the way I behaved earlier. I was rude.”

      E. Smith darted a suspicious glance to the left and the right as though looking for somebody or something to jump out at her and yell boo. “Um, that’s okay.”

      “Thanks for accepting my apology.” As Jayne turned away from the cop, her moccasins tangled in the overlong hem of the robe and she stumbled. Quickly recovering, she went toward Brian. “I want to thank you for being a great neighbor. If there’s ever anything I can do for you, just ask.”

      Dylan didn’t СКАЧАТЬ