In Bed with the Bodyguard

by Lynne Silver

  He didn’t care if it took one hour or one year to get Ari to listen. He wasn’t giving up on them and had a few good ideas of where to begin, with the help of his prickly family. Sure, he didn’t always get along with them, but seeing Arianna’s relationship implosion with her father had shown him that things could get a lot worse. For all their chiding and criticism of him, Lance knew his parents hounded him out of love. Also, getting shot a few months back had demonstrated that life was too short to hold grudges and keep people at arm’s length.

  “Put that painting over there,” Ari directed. “About three inches higher. Perfect.” She smiled at the tattooed, long-haired skater dude who shyly grinned, then turned back to hanging her painting. The smile wiped off her face as soon as she turned away, and she allowed her face to sag into a more accurate expression of how she was feeling.

  It had been a roller coaster of weeks, starting with her breakup with Lance, the all too public television interview, and frequent invasive phone calls from the FBI, and it would culminate in her long-awaited art show tonight. A glance around the large warehouse-like room, so unlike her Georgetown gallery, put the smile back on her face. How fitting this was. How right.

  “Arianna, where do you want the bar set up? I taped out that corner over there, but I wanted to double-check with you.” Kevin jogged over, looking professional and older than his sixteen years. Today he wore a t-shirt with a screen print of a tuxedo on it, in deference to the occasion.

  She followed the direction of his pointing finger and weighed the pros and cons of the bar locale. “That looks perfect. Thanks, Kevin. You’ve been such a help.”

  He flushed and ran off to help his buddy unload another painting. She smiled at his retreating back, thinking about the change in the angry teenager. He’d been a lifesaver this week and was the one who came up with this new location for the show. After nothing substantial came out of her appearance at the Literacy Gala, she’d sent out a plea to her friends. Kevin had come through in a big way.

  “This is shaping up,” a voice at her side said. She turned to greet Valerie and patted her best friend’s minuscule baby bump. Valerie had shown up at her hotel room last night to lend moral support before the show and then spent the night.

  “It is,” she said. “I think I like this even better than my original plan.”

  Valerie laughed. “I agree. Anyone can have an art show in a boring old art gallery. It takes a creative genius to hold one in a roller rink.”

  “Skate park,” Ari said, laughing at her friend’s naïveté. “Roller rinks are eighties. You’re going to need to know these things when that little bean in your belly is bigger.”

  “I had no idea these places existed,” Valerie said, gazing around at the mecca for all things with boards and wheels.

  Large mountains and valleys of plywood filled the converted warehouse, and though the only sounds now were hammering, Ari could imagine the whirr of polyurethane wheels zooming down the ramps.

  “Why would you? Kevin’s the one who told me about it. He is friends with the owner’s son and we got it at a great rate.”

  Valerie leaned over for a warm hug. “I know your mother won’t say it, but I will. I’m proud of you. You took lemons and made lemonade.”

  “Lemonade? Hah! I made lemon drop martinis. I’m done living up to people’s image of what a trust fund baby does. I’m finally free of it, and I owe them nothing.”

  “Good for you.” Val reached a hand over to give a comforting squeeze to her shoulder.

  “My lack of money means I owe nothing to anyone’s opinion.” She stood up straighter, ready to take on the world.

  “What can I do to help, Ms. Birthday Girl?” Valerie asked.

  “You can sit over there and watch the action. And don’t mention to anyone it’s my birthday. I don’t feel like celebrating this year.” She gave her friend a gentle shove toward the air-conditioned office with comfortable chairs.

  “You’re worse than Jason. He understands that I’m pregnant, not ill.” Valerie remained standing next to her with a mulish expression. “I promise to sit down before I overdo it. Believe me, I want to be awake for this party tonight. It’s going to rock the D.C. art scene.”

  “Okay, fine, will you please go call the table linens rental company? They were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.” She shuffled through the papers on her clipboard and handed Val the one with the linens contract.

  Val saluted. “I’m on it.” She strolled off to find a chair and pull out her cell phone.

  Ari flipped through multiple sheets of yellow, pink, and white pages on her clipboard, mentally running through the checklist. Location? Check. Food on its way? Check. Paintings hung? Almost check. All she had to do was grab a shower and think of her talking points for the news media she’d invited. It was doubtful she’d escape without answering a million more questions about her father’s arrest and conjecture as to his mystery location, but one could always dream.

  If Lance were here, he could stand menacingly next to her and intimidate the journalists into asking the proper questions. But who was she kidding? Lance was gone and wasn’t coming back. She’d made her bed and now she’d lie in it, even if it was a cold, lonely place.

  A commotion at the entrance grabbed her attention and she dashed over to open the door for the delivery people carrying the missing table linens. Finally, the tables and nonperishable food items could be set out. She scrawled her name on the necessary delivery sheets they stuck in front of her.

  Twenty minutes later, she did a final walkthrough of the room, widening the grin on her face until it nearly touched each ear. Excitement bubbled and danced through her. It was hard to believe that after all her planning and missteps the big show was finally here.

  “I can see how Jeri’s work is reminiscent of early Rothko,” Arianna said, smiling at the journalist from ArtWorld magazine. “It’s one of the reasons I chose to highlight her work in this opening.” She smiled at the notoriously prickly man, relieved he was thawing a bit and more comfortable in this obviously foreign setting for him.

  Listening with only one ear, she surveyed the room, ensuring that all was as she wanted it. Green Day blared from the speakers on the DJ stage and the skateboarders rolling up and down the ramps seemed to move in time with the beat. Valerie waved at her from a corner, where she chatted with a tall man and his petite blond date. A second glance revealed the man was Lance. She’d mailed him an updated invitation at the last moment, still not sure whether she wanted him there or not, and decided to leave it up to the United States Postal Service. Maybe seeing him again would clear things up in her mind.

  A large part of her missed him terribly and wanted him back in her life, but a niggling doubt bothered her. What if he proved irredeemably untrustworthy again? Like now, bringing a date to her party. What a bastard. She glared at his back, trying and failing to slow her heartbeat at the all too delectable sight of him. It was as she’d feared: one glimpse of him and she was panting after him like a groupie after a rock star.

  She turned back to her VIP journalist. “Mr. Green, how would you like to meet a new up and coming artist that’s poised to take the art world by storm? I promise if you interview her now, you’ll be scooping every other art magazine.” Without waiting for his consent, she took him by the elbow and walked him over to Lacey Klein, who was giving tarot card readings in the corner. Ari unceremoniously left him with a curt but polite dismissal in her anxiety to confront Lance.

  She pushed through the crowd, scooping up a champagne flute from a roving waiter, fully prepared to splash its contents in Lance’s face. All week, she’d agonized over Lance attending the party, and now he was here. With another woman.

  “Lance,” she said as soon as she was within earshot, a difficult task considering the music still blared and skateboarders performed stunts nearby.

  He turned to face her and she willed her stomach to stop fluttering at his scent and nearness. She reminded herself that pr
etty packages could hide a multitude of sins. Exhibit A stood in front of her arm in arm with a tight blond who was …old enough to be his mother?

  “Ari.” Lance, the rat, smiled and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She leaned into him, absorbing his presence. “Ari, I’d like you to meet my mother, Susan Brown. Mom, this Arianna Rose.”

  The blond woman flashed a smile. “A pleasure to meet you. This is one of the most exciting art openings I’ve been to in a long while. It’s too bad my mother couldn’t make it. She has a bit of a cold, but wanted me to wish you the best of luck making a difficult decision. Does that mean something to you?”

  She nodded, as her insides tightened at Nana’s cryptic message, though she understood it perfectly. Nana hadn’t come out and said it, but she wanted Arianna to get back with her grandson. The woman obviously had an agenda. “It does. I’m sorry Nana is under the weather.”

  Mrs. Brown brushed the concern aside. “She’s a tough broad. It’ll take more than a cold to keep her down. I was about to come over to you, because I have my eye on that painting against the far wall. It would make a perfect complement in Lance’s new office.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Brown,” she said, still in shock that he’d brought his mother to the party. And what did she mean, “Lance’s new office”?

  “Don’t call me Mrs. Brown. I know you and my son are close. Call me Susan.”

  The way she said close implied she knew everything and was simply waiting for Ari to slip on Lance’s ring and walk down the aisle.

  “Lance, can I talk to you for a second? Alone?” She grabbed his elbow and tried to move him away from his smiling mother and an equally grinning Valerie.

  He remained firmly rooted in place, but held on to her with his strong hand lightly dusted with golden brown hairs. “Anything you want to say to me can be said in front of my mother and Valerie.”

  “Oh? You won’t mind if your mother hears me talk about how great you were in bed?”

  Valerie choked and nearly spat into her glass of sparkling water.

  “Nope,” he said, but the red staining his cheeks told a different story.

  “So you got the invitation? I wondered if I’d mailed it in time.”

  “Invitation? I didn’t receive anything.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  He gestured at the graffiti-splashed walls dotted with canvases by her artists and said, “Enjoying the art. Why else would I be here?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, if you didn’t get the invitation, what are you doing at my art show?”

  He cocked his head and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he looked down at her. “I wanted to see you. No, I needed to see you.” Her heart pounded in double-time at the intense look in his eyes.

  “Why?” she managed to choke out.

  “Because I miss you.”

  She froze and he immediately took advantage, swooping down to plant a soft kiss on her forehead, then one on her cheek.

  Goose bumps dotted her forearms, and she folded her arms defensively across her chest, willing herself to stand firm. If she caved, she might forget herself and fall into his arms and damn the rest of her guests. Valerie and Lance’s mother faded backward and made a good show of looking at a painting on the opposite side of the room.

  Her icy fingertips fluttered across one flaming cheek and she struggled to stay focused. “What did your mom mean about your new office?”

  He stepped back, giving her room to take a deep breath not mingled with his. “I’m quitting the Service. I’ve accepted a position with MarketFresh.”

  Ari’s eyes widened and the surrounding chatter from the party seemed to dim. “You did? You have? But…why?” Her mind was officially blown. How could Lance quit his beloved job; the job for which he sacrificed familial harmony? Was it because of her? How could he think she’d want him to quit his job? The enormity of his gesture overwhelmed her.

  He grabbed hold of her hand and brought it to his lips to brush a kiss across her knuckles. He held on to her while he answered. “As long as I’m working for the Secret Service, you won’t trust me. You’ll always think I’d report any news of your dad.”

  Stunned, Ari’s stomach clenched as if she’d been punched. She knew from previous conversations how hard he’d worked and how much he’d given up to achieve his position. That he’d throw it all away for her, when he hadn’t been willing to do so for his father, was stunning, thrilling, and upsetting. “But…you love your job.”

  He said nothing but gave her a wry yet tender smile.

  “Oh,” she said on an exhalation. She got it. By quitting, he was telling her he loved her more than his job. The depths of his willingness to prove himself rocked her to the core, but there was no question in her mind about the wrongness of his decision. “No. Don’t quit. Not on my account.”

  He frowned. “Are you saying I have no chance of changing your mind? I refuse to believe we’re done for good.”

  “No! I mean yes. I mean, I don’t want you to quit because—” She broke off before she admitted she loved him too much to ask him to sacrifice such a thing for her. “I don’t think you should quit,” she said. “You’d end up resenting me.”

  “Arianna,” a voice called from across the room. She craned her neck and motioned she’d be there in a minute.

  “Look, I have to go.”

  “Can I stay and wait for you?”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. We’ll talk later tonight.”

  Lance glanced down at his watch and leaned farther back in the black metal folding chair. It was nearly midnight and the place had cleared out about half an hour ago. Glasses and metal flatware clinked as the rental company removed the last crate of champagne flutes and silverware.

  “Don’t let me fall,” Ari crowed as she rolled by in bare feet on a skateboard. Kevin jogged alongside her, teaching her how to balance and steer on the narrow board.

  He smiled at the sight and settled in to wait some more. She was avoiding him. He could wait. Valerie and Jason had generously offered to drive his mother back to her hotel so he could stick around for Ari. It was nice to know they were in his corner.

  Before she’d left, Valerie had kissed his cheek and whispered some advice in his ear. “She still loves you. Show her you can be trusted. Don’t blow it.”

  He wouldn’t. This time he’d take his cues from Ari. He’d been half tempted to give the rental car keys to his mother and risk throwing himself on Ari’s hospitality, but he didn’t think she was ready for a sleepover with him yet. He’d kept the rental car and planned on driving back to Virginia tonight.

  “Hello.” Ari rolled to a stop in front of him and inexpertly dismounted from the skateboard. “Thanks for giving me a quick lesson,” she said, handing the board back to Kevin. “You should go home now. Your mom will be worried.” She smiled at the teen, who responded with a shy smile and a look in his eye that probably mirrored the one Lance had. Oh, hell, was every male infatuated with Arianna? Too bad, the kid couldn’t have her. She was his.

  “Ready to talk?” he asked, suppressing his need to pull her down onto his lap and nuzzle the cleavage revealed by her strapless cocktail dress. At last they were almost alone. It seemed to have taken hours for the last of the waitstaff and Kevin to leave.

  “Yes. I signed off on the rental stuff, and it looks like they’re gone. Steve said I could leave the paintings up until tomorrow morning.”

  “Is that safe?” he asked, unable to forego his security background entirely.

  She smiled at him. “For the night it should be okay. I’m meeting the van tomorrow to repack the paintings before the skate park opens.”

  “What about the sold ones?” A red sticker adorned the tag of nearly every piece of art in the room.

  A huge grin covered her face. “Isn’t it amazing? I sold nearly every painting. Your mom bought two. In fact, she started a bidding war for Lacey’s sculpture. Thanks for bringing her.”

  He gave
in to his desire and reached out to touch her hip. “I’m thrilled for you, but not surprised. You worked your ass off getting this show ready, and you have a real eye for art.”

  She fell into his lap, trusting him to catch her. “I’m giddy, I’m ecstatic. We raised a lot of money for the Rose Fund, and I have enough left over to pay off a few bills.” She wrapped her hands around the back of his head and pulled him close for a lingering kiss that had him reeling.

  Long, charged moments passed entwined in the embrace before he remembered nothing between them was settled. “Ari,” he said, pulling back.

  She turned her upper body to face him, hanging both legs over his thigh. “Don’t think. Just kiss. It’s been too long.”

  He allowed one more slow lip lock before stopping again. “Ari, you’re not thinking clearly. Are you sure this is what you want?”

  “Mmm, yes…” She murmured her acquiescence into his jaw, grazing the stubble with her teeth.

  “’Cause it won’t be just sex to me. I want you too badly and you mean too much.” He shuddered as her fingers undid the top buttons on his shirt and reached in to circle his nipples.

  “Yes.” She slid one leg over his other thigh, straddling him and hiking her short dress up, balancing the perfect globes of her ass on his knees. “I want you now.”

  “You have me. I’m going to take you here on this chair, in that dress.” He breathed deeply in the soft joint where her neck met shoulder. Tonight she had on an unfamiliar flowery scent. It made him crazed. “Stand up for a second,” he said in a low, rough voice. With a little tricky maneuvering, he pulled a condom from the fold in his wallet, undid his pants, and rucked them down to his knees, locking his legs nearly together. “Shit.”

  “Metal chair a little cold?” Ari softly laughed. She pulled the condom from his grasp, tore open the package, and rolled it on him.