Bodyguard Reunion. Beverly Long

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СКАЧАТЬ European vacations. Whatever she’d needed or wanted, he’d worked hard to provide it for her.

      Because he hadn’t wanted her to miss her mother. She had, of course. But she’d tried to never let him know how much. Hadn’t wanted to add to his pain.

      By the time she’d arrived at the rooftop bar that warm windy spring night, the party was in full swing. She’d chatted and mingled and downed two glasses of wine on an empty stomach. Almost burped it back up when she caught a glimpse of Royce across the room and he smiled at her.

      He was simply the most handsome guy she’d seen in a long time. He had presence. That was the only way to put it. Tall, certainly over six foot, and solid with wide shoulders and a broad chest. He was casually dressed in a gray T-shirt, faded blue jeans and scuffed motorcycle boots. She could see the edge of a tattoo on his right bicep, all swirly lines and irregular shapes. He was drinking a beer.

      He totally looked as if he could kick some butt.

      And the immediate attraction she felt was hard to ignore. But she did, giving him just a brief smile in return before turning her attention back to the woman she was chatting with. The woman had noticed her interest, however, and confided that he was recently back from serving overseas, and a friend of a friend.

      And she’d had a crazy desire to talk to him. But she didn’t. Her breakup with Bryson was too fresh. She wasn’t ready. Intellectually she knew that.

      Even though her body was practically humming at his blatant sex appeal.

      Forty minutes after arriving, she was on the curb, waiting for a cab to take her back to the office, when the storm broke and pouring rain hit.

      Out of nowhere, a big umbrella appeared, held by the man from the party. Up close, he was even better looking. “Tough night to be making tracks,” he said with a wickedly sexy smile as the wind threatened to rip the umbrella out of his grasp.

      “You don’t look like the type to carry an umbrella.” It was a stupid thing to say but the only thing she could think of.

      He laughed and a shiver of heat had run up her spine. “Belongs to the bar.”

      “Don’t you need to give it back?”

      “I will. Tomorrow.”

      They shared a cab and when he asked her to have dinner with him, she said yes. Maybe it had been the wine, maybe it was the storm. She didn’t know. All she knew was that she didn’t want to go back to her office, she didn’t want to go home to her empty apartment, and she rather desperately wanted to have dinner with him.

      A relative stranger. Friend of a friend. Not likely a serial killer.

      The thoughts had tumbled upon one another until she’d been nodding yes. She thought dinner might be awkward but it wasn’t. He spoke proudly of his years in the air force and made it seem as if it really wasn’t a huge deal to have served in both Afghanistan and Iraq. He talked of the people he’d served with, the people they’d helped, even the enemy. And she ate her pasta and felt like a Lee Greenwood song, simply proud to be an American.

      She talked of her work, the intricacies of acquisitions, the theatre she’d seen the previous week, and showed him pictures on her cell phone of her best friend’s little girl, who at eighteen months had her very first tutu.

      She told him about Bryson Wagoner. Not much because she figured it bad form to talk to one man about another. But he’d asked if she was currently seeing anyone and she’d confessed to breaking off the relationship after Valentine’s Day, when he’d tried to propose.

      They lingered over coffee and dessert, and like a crazy person, she thought about inviting him back to her apartment. But finally, when the restaurant was shutting down, he hailed down a cab and carefully put her inside, with just a casual peck on the cheek.

      And she realized that she might have just had the best night of her life and it wasn’t going to happen again. At the last minute, she pressed her business card into his hand.

      It had taken him two days to call, two frantic days of jumping every time her office phone rang only to be disappointed. She didn’t tell anyone about him. Didn’t want to admit to her esteemed colleagues that she’d been duped by some guy or that it simply hadn’t been as special as she’d built it up in her mind. At least not for him.

      She’d been practically shaking when his call had finally come in. She’d—

      “I’m ready,” Charity said, interrupting her memories. She was holding the cat cage and it was swinging as Hogi turned circles in the small space.

      “Great,” JC said. What was important now was that Charity was coming home with her. They would get a chance to know one another, to become friends.

      A chance to find the truth.

      She reached for the doorknob but Royce beat her to it. “I’ll go first,” he said. “Keep close behind me. Do exactly what I say when I say it.”

      “Fine,” she said. She made a deliberate attempt to relax her jaw. Her poor teeth did not deserve to be mashed together. She managed to smile at Charity. “Doing okay?” she asked.

      “I guess,” the young woman said. “Are you some kind of cop?” she asked Royce.

      “No,” he said.

      “Royce is part of my security detail. Goes with the territory of being a CEO,” JC said, making her tone light.

      “Cool,” Charity said. “I’m kind of hungry.”

      “We can get lunch at my hotel,” JC said, happy that the young woman didn’t have more questions.

      “Is there a pool?” Charity asked, her eyes big, looking more like a little girl than a woman old enough to be living with an abusive boyfriend. JC thought longingly of what it might have been like to have Charity live with her, like a real little sister.

      “Of course,” JC said.

      “Not going to be any damn swimming,” Royce said. “Let’s go.”

       Chapter 6

      Her red dress had gotten his attention. He’d been nursing a beer, thinking about leaving, when he’d seen her across the rooftop patio. The wind had been playing with her skirt, making it swirl around her legs, and he’d had to tighten his grip on his bottle because his damn hands were simply itching to know if her skin was as soft as it looked.

      She’d given him a dismissive smile and he’d been just reckless enough to think the hell with that. The rain had been fortuitous and he’d been ready to insist upon dinner when she’d graciously agreed.

      And he’d had a great three hours. Still, when the night had ended, he’d been prepared to let her go. Had told himself to be content, to simply enjoy the serendipity of their meeting. She was out of his league.

      But damn her, she’d pressed her business card into his hand and he’d gone home and slept with the damn thing under his pillow. For two nights. And when he wasn’t sleeping, he’d been staring at it. Until finally he’d СКАЧАТЬ