by Lori Wilde
But how best to execute her plan?
Play to your talents. Be outrageous. Shock the pants off him.
Good idea. She’d already figured out he shocked rather easily. For the duration of their cross-country flight to Los Angeles he’d sat rigidly beside her in the first class cabin. Stony as old Teddy Roosevelt on Mount Rushmore.
Big, imposing, silent. He’d barely spoken ten words.
Luckily, Molly Anne was seated behind and across the aisle from them, plus she was asleep, so no interference from that source. It was the perfect time to put her get-rid-of-Cardasian plot into play.
“Tell me something,” Callie murmured in the most seductive voice she could muster as the plane circled over LAX.
He inclined his head, waiting for her to continue. She flipped her copy of Cosmo closed and leaned forward to drop the magazine into her travel bag. Just to unnerve Luke, she made sure the top of her head grazed his forearm during the maneuver. What she didn’t count on, though, was the sharp zing of awareness.
“You got a girlfriend or what, Cardasian?”
He did not answer.
She straightened, purposefully not readjusting the hem of the miniskirt that had ridden up high on her thigh. She smiled engagingly. Still, he said nothing.
“What? You givin’ me the silent treatment?”
He shook his head.
“No, you’re not giving me the silent treatment or no, you don’t have a girlfriend?”
He telegraphed her a look. Shut up and mind your own business.
But Callie did neither. “No girlfriend. Got it. Boyfriend then?”
He frowned and vigorously shook his head.
“Ah, so you’re not gay. I guess that means that either you’re into one-night stands or you’re celibate.”
Nothing. She could have wrung more conversation from a boulder.
“I’m guessing celibate. You strike me as too much of a Goody Two-shoes for one-night stands.”
From the back pocket of the seat in front of them, he plucked up the copy of USA Today that he had already perused three times and snapped it open with an angry flick of his wrist.
“Is it just my imagination,” she asked, lowering her voice and angling her upper body toward him. “Or are the tips of your ears turning bright red? Am I embarrassing you?”
He grunted but did not glance at her. His teeth were clamped so tightly that his jaw muscles bunched. He was hanging on to his temper with spider-web control.
“Honestly, Luke, no need to blush. You shouldn’t be ashamed of your celibacy. Happens to the best of us from time to time.” He was blushing and he hadn’t denied it. How sweet. He really must be celibate. What delightful ammunition. “Just between you and me how long has it been since you got laid?”
“I won’t discuss my sex life.”
“Or lack thereof?”
He stared at her, murder in his eyes. Ooh goodie, she was getting to him. But damn if he wasn’t getting to her, as well.
His dark, moody, high-voltage scowl caused her heart to shoot up into her throat and then immediately plummet back down into her stomach. A runaway elevator. His hard-edged gaze nailed her to the seat and she felt as if the wind had been slapped from her lungs.
Maybe she ought to back off a bit. At least until they were safely on the ground and her hands had stopped quaking.
By the time they were in the terminal the tension between them was thick as July in New Orleans. Muggy, moody, portentous.
Even Molly Anne noticed. “What’s up between you and the bodyguard?” she asked when they detoured to the airport terminal ladies’ room after the plane had landed. She took off her fake glasses and polished the lenses with a paper towel.
Callie stood in front of the mirror, spiking her hair with her fingers, making sure she looked as punkish as possible. She slid her favorite cologne—Sinful—from her purse and dabbed a bit behind each ear. One way or the other, she was going to give Luke a run for his money.
“I think I rub him the wrong way,” she said.
“Well start rubbing him the right way, will you? We need him.”
Callie rolled her eyes. She needed Cardasian like…well…like a trout needed a Harley.
For the first time, her mother’s favorite saying made total sense. She could defend herself. She had no use for a bodyguard and the sooner she goaded him into quitting, the better. Learning about his celibacy had given her an advantage and she knew exactly how to ratchet up the heat.
“Take it easy on Luke. If all goes well on this tour, you could very possibly be getting Buck Bryson’s time slot.”
Callie stopped preening, pursed her mouth and stared at Molly Anne’s reflection. “What?”
Molly Anne nodded. “Roger’s backing you all the way. With him in your corner and the soaring ratings of Let’s Talk About Sex, if the sales of your book are good, too, the board of directors is bound to want to retool your show for the morning slot.”
“Really?” Callie squeaked.
They clasped each other by the shoulders and danced an excited little jig right there in the bathroom.
“This is what we’ve been working so hard for all these years. With the a.m. slot you can do more education, less titillation like you’ve always wanted,” Molly Anne said. “So I’m begging you, please don’t do anything that could screw this up.”
All the more reason to ditch Luke. With the way he agitated her, sooner or later she was bound to take a misstep. The quicker she got rid of him, the better. For the sake of her mental health, as much as for her career.
Luke had been waiting for them to come out of the ladies’ room, his arms crossed over his chest. Silently, he fell in step behind them, his watchful gaze scanning the disembarking crowd for potential threats.
Too bad he had to go. The guy was one hell of a hottie.
“I’ll meet you guys at baggage claim,” Molly Anne said and flipped open her cell phone. “I have a few calls to make. Publicity arrangements to verify, that sort of thing.”
Molly Anne took off down the concourse, which surprised Callie a little but she wasn’t really thinking about her friend. Her mind was on getting rid of Luke. Callie tossed her head and made a beeline for the small sundries store. Luke stuck to her elbow like he was Velcro.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“I need something.” She stopped in front of the medicinal and personal hygiene section. Hmm, where was it? Arms akimbo, she searched the shelves. Sun-screen and lip balm and those tiny pink motion-sickness pills. Travel toothbrushes and pocket-size tissues and miniature bottles of aspirin stickered with exorbitant price tags.
And then she spotted what she was searching for, tucked discreetly into a back corner. She didn’t reach for them. Instead, she pretended to peruse the shelf until Luke unwittingly rose to the bait.
“What are you looking for?” he asked at last.
“It’s personal. In fact, why don’t you go wait by the magazine stand?” She made shooing motions at him. “Check out the latest issue of Hotbed Honeys or something.”
“I don’t read those kinds of publications.” He bristled.
“Sure you do. You’re celibate, aren’t you. If you’re not having sex you’ve got to be jacking off.”
“Ms. Ryder,” he said gruffly. “I’d appreciate it if you’d keep your voice down.”
“Hit a sore spot, did I? How many times a day do you masturbate?”
“What!” He looked mortified.
“Come on, confess.”
He glared. “Hush.”
She cocked her head and gave him her naughtiest smile. Darn if a little blue vein wasn’t popping out on his forehead.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Sure am.” She winked.
“I can assure you that you’re not going to chase me off with your frank talk. I’ve been hired to stay by your side.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugged and turned her attention back to the display rac
ks. They were standing shoulder to shoulder, staring at the wall of hygiene products. Her heart was thudding. She didn’t know about him, but all this talk of masturbation was certainly getting to her. Luke was so close she could feel the body heat rolling off his large frame in waves.
Why did the thought of teasing him excite her so much? All she wanted was to be such a pain in his keester that he would quit the job and go back to New York.
“Is this what you’re looking for?” He held up a box of tampons.
“No.”
He swiftly returned the box to the shelf. “You said it was personal.”
“It is.”
“There’s feminine itch cream on the shelf next to the deodorant.” He pointed. “And freshness spray, whatever that is.”
“Don’t need those, either.”
“So what do you need?” he asked.
Did he have any idea how loaded that question was? Callie slanted him a sideways glance to see how much innuendo was in his face. His innocent expression almost had her rethinking her fiendish plan to sexually embarrass him in public. Almost.
“Condoms,” she said in a loud voice so anyone standing in the vicinity would overhear them. “I need a box of condoms.”
“What for?” he asked.
“What do you mean what for? Condoms have only one use.”
“I mean,” he said, lowering his voice to an urgent whisper, the tips of his ears tinged red again. She was really starting to like that telltale blush. It was quaint and sort of gallant. “You need a partner to use those with.”
“Why, Luke, are you offering to break your celibacy and become my road trip release valve?”
“No!”
“But you just said…” she trailed off.
“You’re twisting my words and you know it.”
She smiled slyly and moistened her lips. His gaze fixed on her tongue, watching its every flick. Oh-ho! Mr. I-Keep-My-Emotions-Under-Tight-Control was attracted to her. A powerful piece of information indeed.
“What I meant to say,” he said, tensing his jaw muscles in that way of his, looking mighty unhappy with the topic of conversation. “If you plan on taking a lover while you’re on this book tour, I insist you allow me to have his background thoroughly checked out first.”
“Wouldn’t it be much easier,” she said, drawing on her bold sexpert persona to push him over the edge, “if you would just volunteer to be my lover?”
She skimmed her fingernails lightly over his forearm. And it was not her imagination. The big man actually shuddered. There was sexual tension between them, no question. But she really didn’t intend on seducing him. She just wanted to chase him away. But now, she couldn’t stop thinking about making love to this juicy hunk of man. She kept wondering if he really was as chaste and pure of heart as he seemed.
“What size should I get?” She stroked the box of condoms. “Large? Extra large? Please don’t tell me we’ll be needing a small.”
“I know what you’re doing,” he growled. “And it’s not going to work.”
“Do you?” Her tone was pure whiskey and honey, low and suggestive.
“You’re trying to rattle me, put me off my game, cause me to make a mistake.”
“Now why would I do that?” Callie asked, reaching up to finger his tie.
He’d worn a dark business suit on the plane but Callie preferred him in his camouflage pants and combat boots and tight black T-shirt. What she thought of as his rough-and-tough look.
“Because,” he said, “having a bodyguard puts you in a submissive position and you can’t stand the thought of that. You have to be in charge and you’re trying to wrest back control any way you can.”
Oh, Mr. Smarty Pants Bodyguard. Well fine. If he refused to let her sexual innuendo run him off, she’d just have to find another way to get rid of him.
Callie plucked the condoms off the shelf and took a ten-dollar bill from her wallet, then handed Luke both the money and the prophylactics.
He stared at her.
“Buy these for me, will you?”
Without waiting for his response, she sashayed over to the newsstand, picked up a copy of Vogue and pretended to be totally engrossed.
She sneaked a quick glance into the shoplifting mirror perched on the wall above her head to see what he would do. Luke stood there a minute, finally muttered something under his breath and got in line for the checkout. There were two people in the queue ahead of him. She had to wait until the right moment to make her move. He watched her closely until he stepped up to the register and the clerk engaged him in conversation. Looking flustered, he laid the condoms on the counter.
The second Callie saw his concentration shift from her to the clerk, she jammed the magazine back on the shelf and darted into the terminal. The crowd flowing past swallowed her up.
Ha! Pulse galloping, she turned at the next corner, pushed through the revolving doors and found herself deposited outside on the street near the taxi stand. Brilliant Callie, now what?
4
LUKE HAD BEEN in precarious situations before and he’d always managed to survive. This time, he assured himself was no different. But it was. He could handle the treacherous danger in Limbasa far easier than he could handle the audacious Callie Ryder and her alluring feminine scent. He was way out of his league.
She knew exactly what she was doing. Smelling too good, talking sexy, trying her damnedest to get a rise out of him.
And risen he had. She was nearly driving him out of his mind whispering about condoms and celibacy and dirty magazines. He winced just thinking about how swiftly he got a hard-on whenever he was near her.
The sassy woman’s enticing aroma of nutmeg and ginger and cinnamon made him ache to brush up against her. She smelled like a dream. Like home. And for a man who often felt out of step with the rest of the world, home was a deadly inviting scent.
Luke shifted in line at the checkout counter and glanced over at Callie. She was deeply engrossed in her magazine and he found his gaze tracing down the length of her back. She wore a formfitting stretch knit black blouse and a mouthwatering short crimson skirt that set his blood boiling. And even though she was petite in stature, she was still three-fourths long lean legs.
Her skin was firm and bronzed, her stomach flat, waist narrow and her breasts were the perfect size of ripe peaches. She moved as if she owned the world. Lithe, supple, confident in her abilities to please. He blew out his breath. Man, she was something to look at. When he realized two-thirds of the men in the store were also staring at her, he had the compelling urge to double up his fists and blacken their ogling eyes.
Highly unprofessional. This protective surge he felt toward her went far beyond duty and bordered on stupid. She shifted and glanced at him over her shoulder, winked and then went back to her magazine.
Lust tortured him. His body hardened and he had to close his eyes and steel his jaw in order to fight off the boner.
“May I help you, sir,” asked the polite caramel-skinned gentleman behind the register. Nervously, Luke fumbled with the condoms and dropped them onto the counter.
“Is this the kind that you want?” the clerk asked in heavily accented English. “Ribbed for her pleasure?”
Luke nodded and he felt his cheeks scorch. How had he let himself get rooked into buying condoms for her? And was she really thinking about hooking up with a stranger for a road fling. He winced. He hoped not. It could present a security nightmare. The clerk quickly sacked the condoms in a brown paper bag, made change and gave him his purchase.
“Come again, sir,” the clerk said and then laughed at his own joke.
Luke stalked away from the counter, stomping over to the magazine stand, determined to set Callie straight about his function. He was her bodyguard, not her personal shopper, not her roadie, not the man she was going to use to scratch her sexual itch.
Hey, wait a minute. Where was she? Puzzled, Luke searched the corners of the open store. She was small, but not that small.
A panicky sensation clutched his gut.
She’d already been to the ladies’ room with Molly Anne when they’d gotten off the plane so he doubted she’d gone back in there. Could someone have snatched her? If they had, he certainly felt sorry for the kidnappers.
But it wasn’t funny. He’d committed the bodyguard’s cardinal sin. He’d lost sight of his protectee.
TWO MINUTES LATER, Callie’s impulsive flight from the terminal was starting to look pretty stupid. She hadn’t thought this thing through. She had simply been irritated with Luke’s high-handedness and wanted to prove she could outwit him. And just maybe shame the prideful man into quitting.
Right. Now where to from here? She probably ought to go find Molly Anne and help her redeem their luggage.
A Los Angeles city bus lumbered past. Callie blinked, unable to believe what she was seeing. Her picture plastered on the side of the bus.
Callie Ryder Gives Shockingly Good Sex.
For one moment, she felt exactly like the Carrie Bradshaw character from the opening sequence of Sex and the City, overwhelmed by her newfound popularity.
The poster on the side of the bus was a smaller version of the one in Times Square. Callie knew Molly Anne had done advance publicity for the tour, but she was openmouthed to learn her business manager’s efforts had included advertising on public transportation. Molly Anne was a dynamo at PR. She was definitely going to have to give the woman a raise.
It was oddly surreal. Seeing her star on the rise on the opposite side of the country. This was no fluke. She had officially arrived. But she had no time to fully absorb the moment or appreciate the significance of it or even feel sad that she had no one to share it with.
“Omigosh, it’s her!” a woman squealed.
“Her who?” asked another woman. “Is it a movie star?”
Callie glanced around, trying to see which celebrity the women had spotted.
“No, look, look,” said the first woman. “Her picture was on the side of the bus that just went by. It’s that radio deejay from Let’s Talk About Sex. She’s standing right over there.”