Special Ops Bodyguard. Beth Cornelison

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      Gage glanced up from the menu, and his breath caught in his lungs. The waitress’s wheat colored hair was streaked with gold and framed eyes as clear and blue as the Montana sky. For a moment, he could only stare, his body humming with a purely male interest he hadn’t experienced in more months than he could count.

      “Sir? Everything all right?”

      Her question nudged him from his daze, and he frowned, embarrassed to have been caught gawking. “Yeah, fine. I’ll, uh … have the roast beef and potatoes. Coffee. Black.”

      He handed the menu back to her, and she grinned. “Good choice. The beef around here is the best you’ve ever had. Guaranteed.” She scribbled his order on a pad, then hung the sheet on the order wheel for the kitchen. “One of the advantages of living in ranching country. Prime beef.”

      He tipped his head in acknowledgment but kept his expression neutral. “What are the advantages if you’re a vegetarian?”

      She sputtered a laugh, and the twinkle of amusement in her gaze made his pulse dance a little two-step. “Then I guess you’d have to find your pleasure in the scenic beauty and the friendly people of our fine state.”

      “I agree the scenery—” he paused meaningfully and lifted one eyebrow “—here is more beautiful than I’d expected.”

      Her eyes narrowed, but her lopsided grin kept her expression light. “Why, sir, are you flirting with me?”

      Gage pressed his lips in a hard line just short of a scowl. “I don’t flirt, ma’am. If I were interested in you, I’d let you know. No games.”

      She rocked back on her heels, and her smile faded. “Oh, I— Sorry.” She seemed inordinately rattled by his gruff response. An endearing pink tint filled her ivory cheeks, and she caught her plump bottom lip with her teeth. She was sexy innocence personified, and he felt like a first-class heel for his curt reply.

      Flapping a hand toward the other end of the counter, she took a step back. “I’ll just … get your coffee.”

      Gage gritted his teeth as she hurried away, leaving the scent of vanilla and cinnamon in her wake. He savored the sweet aroma and kicked himself for driving her away. What was wrong with him? Just because he was on assignment and had no business entertaining any ideas of female company didn’t mean he couldn’t be friendly. Or at least civil. People didn’t generally use the term friendly in regards to him. He didn’t do warm and fuzzy. Two tours in Afghanistan with the U.S. Army Rangers had hardened him, jaded him. His last mission had scarred him. Both physically and mentally. He found it hard to be hearts and flowers when his best friends’ blood was on his hands, and the dying moans of his Rangers team echoed in his nightmares.

      Still, his lousy past wasn’t her fault, and he might need an ally in town, a resource for information about the people and politics in Maple Cove. Perhaps a better tactical move would be to enlist her help rather than keep the tempting treat at arms’ length.

      She set a steaming mug in front of him but offered no smile this time. “Coffee. Black.”

      “Thanks,” he grunted, and before he could form a question about the residents of the town, she’d spun away and returned to the far end of the counter.

      Sighing, Gage turned his stool so he could lean back against the counter on his elbows and take in the rest of the diner. The buttery-yellow walls and high ceiling lent the otherwise dark decor a feminine touch, much the way his perky waitress had shone her light on his grim mood tonight. He angled a side glance toward her and caught her furtive glance in his direction. Jerking her gaze away, she ducked her head, blushing to her roots, and gave the counter a harder wipe.

      Gage’s cheek twitched in an almost grin. She so blatantly wore her heart on her sleeve, he wanted to laugh. Her openness and lack of pretense was refreshing.

      Looks could be deceiving.

      He groaned internally. Always staying guarded, wary and suspicious grew tiresome, but in Gage’s world, relaxing your defenses or showing your deeper self meant leaving yourself open to attack. Weak. Vulnerable.

      Near the diner’s door, an elderly gentleman scraped the last bite of pie from his plate while reading a Bozeman newspaper. “Delicious as always, Kate!” he called to the blonde, who responded with a wide grin.

      A few tables away, a young couple with a whiny baby packed up their belongings and called a good night to the cook through the open kitchen door. Across the room, another waitress, also an attractive blonde, though not in the same league as Miss Sunshine, wiped tables, then sent him a curious look as she carried a tray of dirty dishes from the dining room.

      “Order up, Kate,” the cook called as he slapped a plate up on the shelf under the order wheel.

      Miss Sunshine scurried over, flashed the cook a bright smile, and called, “Thanks, Pete.”

      She gathered a set of silverware and a napkin before she carried Gage’s dinner to him.

      “Can I get you anything else?” She added a quick smile, though the light didn’t reach her eyes.

      You hurt her.

      He shook his head, and as she turned to leave, he said, “Business.”

      She faced him, a curious crease in her brow. “Pardon?”

      “You asked me earlier what brought me to town. I’m here on business. On assignment.”

      Her expression warmed, clearly taking his answer as the apology he intended. Following his cue, she leaned her hip against the counter, and her smile lit with the sunshine with which she’d first greeted him. “What kind of assignment? Are you a reporter?”

      He cut himself a bite of the beef and shook his head. “Security specialist.”

      She blinked at him. “Which means … what?”

      “I’m protecting a client.”

      Her eyebrows shot up, and her cornflower eyes widened. “As in a bodyguard? Who for?” She leaned closer, lowering her voice to a titillated hush. “Is there a movie star in town?”

      He shoved the meat in his mouth. “No. Not a movie star.” The tender beef and perfect seasoning of his dinner registered as he chewed, and he couldn’t suppress the groan of pure satisfaction.

      His waitress’s grin turned smug. “Told you it was the best you’d ever have. And wait until you try my apple pie. I just took it out of the oven before you walked in here. I’ll cut you a fat slice if you’d like.”

      Gage stabbed another bite. “Maybe.”

      “Wait a minute.” She sent him a speculative look. “Cole Kelley’s dad is a U.S. Senator.” She tucked a handful of silky, honey blond hair behind her ear and canted toward him. “So … is it Senator Kelley? Is that who you’re protecting?”

      Gage cut a glance toward her as he launched into the creamiest mashed potatoes he’d ever eaten. “You know Cole?”

      Even though he avoided answering her question directly, he knew by СКАЧАТЬ