Protect Me - A Steamy Bodyguard Romance (You Can't Resist a Bad Boy Book 5)

by Layla Valentine

  I go back to my seat, defeated. What if he never comes down? How can I be expected to return to the office empty-handed? My first big story, without so much as a word to show for it…

  The minutes continue to tick by. I check my email to see if there’s a cancellation message there, but no one has gotten in touch.

  Another twenty minutes. And another. I stare out the window, watching the light dim. This whole time, people have been going in and out of the lobby—mostly out. I feel pathetic sitting here, like a girl who’s been stood up by her date but who just refuses to leave the restaurant.

  “You’re from the paper?”

  I whip my face from the window to take in the man standing over me. Tousled, sandy-blond hair. Hazel eyes. Rolled-up white button-up sleeves. Hands in his pockets.

  The clock behind him says eight. I’ve been waiting for an hour.

  “Yes,” I answer, standing and offering my hand for a shake. “I’m Noelle Edwards.”

  He accepts the handshake, his eyes never leaving my face. “I’m Ryan. Zach’s assistant.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” I smile.

  The anxiety I’ve been feeling all day isn’t lessened at all by this man’s appearance. He can’t be more than thirty and has a laid-back beach look mixed with businessman confidence. I’ve only just set eyes on him, but he’s already knocking it out of the ballpark in the made-for-female-fantasies department.

  What’s with all the hot men today?

  A year of a handful of pathetic dates in this city, and suddenly my life is full of hot, successful men. Not that any of them are asking me out, but still, just admiring is fair game…

  Ryan’s jaw is tense. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but Mr. Garner won’t be able to meet with you tonight.”

  I can feel my face fall. “Oh. That’s all right. Is there some time in the next few days that we can reschedule for?”

  Like, maybe tomorrow morning? I really, really, don’t want to ask for an extension on my first big article, even if having to do so is no fault of mine at all.

  “Unfortunately, Mr. Garner had to fly out to the East Coast on an urgent business matter. Something came up last minute, and the date of his return isn’t certain. He could be gone all week.”

  “Oh.” My voice is small, almost as small as I’m currently feeling. “That’s… unfortunate.”

  “But I would be happy to help you.”

  “You would answer some questions?” I hopefully ask. It’s not the same as an interview with Zach Garner himself, but it’s better than nothing at all.

  “If I can,” he nods.

  There’s a confidence about him, an assuring air. I feel I would be hard-pressed to say no to this man under any conditions.

  “I’ll even pay for dinner,” he smiles when I don’t answer right away. “Or, I guess I should say, Zarner Technologies will pay for dinner.”

  I laugh, and he does the same, showing off two matching dimples.

  “I do need to write this article soon,” I admit. “It’s due in three days.”

  “Then let’s not waste any time. There’s a tapas bar right down the block. We can start off there.”

  “Great.”

  “You ready?”

  I nod, and he leads me to the revolving door, waiting for me to go through first. A delicious spring breeze picks up as we exit onto the sidewalk, and I self-consciously tuck some hair behind my ear when Ryan isn’t looking.

  “Have you worked at the Tribune for long?” Ryan asks.

  “This is only my second week.” I would love to sidestep the topic of my inexperience, but there’s really no way to.

  “This is an ambitious story.” He gives me a glance as we walk side by side. “Taking it upon yourself to interview a man who is known for not doing just that.”

  “Well, he agreed to this article,” I point out. “Didn’t he?”

  Then again, he did leave town without bothering to reschedule. Perhaps he intended on having his assistant talk to me the whole time.

  “He did,” Ryan evenly answers. “Here we are.”

  He opens the door to the tapas bar for me. The act makes it almost feel like a date—at least in my hopeful, romance-deprived head it does. The last three dates I went on, the men acted as if they were doing me a favor by being in my presence.

  “Shall we sit at the bar?” Ryan asks. “We can start with drinks, and then you can pick a restaurant for dinner. Or we can stay here, if you like.”

  “That sounds great,” I smile.

  I perch on the very last stool and get to it right away, flipping my notebook to the page with my questions and opening the recording app on my phone. “I hope you don’t mind if I record this.”

  “Not at all.”

  We order drinks, Ryan asking for something I don’t even recognize, but that I think might be a kind of whiskey. Heart thudding, I skim my questions. Since Mr. Garner himself isn’t here, some of them are going to have to be modified.

  In the middle of my research crisis this afternoon, I decided I would have to use the lack of information to my knowledge. Since the man Zach Garner is so elusive, there’s only one option for the article: to write an exposé on the person behind all of the success, to pull back the curtain and show a side that no one knows about.

  It’s ambitious. Optimistic, maybe. But, then again, so am I.

  “How long have you been working for Mr. Garner?” I ask.

  “Five years,” Ryan immediately answers. He has no problem with eye contact, and has barely looked away from me since we arrived at the bar. It’s distracting, to say the least.

  My gin martini arrives, and I take a grateful sip, the small amount of alcohol warming my system. Here’s hoping it will help put me at ease.

  “And what has your experience been during that time?” I question. “Has it been mostly positive, or…?” I trail off, waiting to see if he’ll take the bait.

  Ryan grins. “If you’re looking for dirt on Mr. Garner, you’re not going to get it from me.”

  Darn.

  “Anyway…” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “What did you say the objective of this interview is?”

  “I don’t think I did.”

  “Ah.” He gives me a knowing look. “So you want the secret, insider stuff.”

  “What journalist doesn’t?” I volley back. I’m trying to act confident, but he’s unnerved me. This guy is smart, one quick step ahead of where I thought he was.

  “I’m afraid Mr. Garner is a very average man. He just happens to be one that owns a multi-billion-dollar business.”

  My annoyance builds, and I do my best to stop my lips from pursing.

  “Surely that took a lot of hard work, a lot of gumption and perseverance… I would love to get a look at the kind of man who is that strong.”

  They’re honest words, and for a moment something flashes in Ryan’s eyes—a softness, or something like it. “Didn’t you work hard yourself?” he asks. “You have a job at a pretty reputable paper. Was that just handed to you?”

  “I didn’t get it by association, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “It is.” He hooks his arm on the back of his chair and turns to face me straight-on.

  I’m not sure what to say. I feel like I should be aggravated, but I’m not. Although some people’s direct manners are annoying, Ryan’s are pleasing. There’s a gentleness to his honesty.

  “This interview isn’t about me,” I point out, quickly taking a sip of my martini so that I don’t have to look at him.

  “All right. What other questions do you have there?”

  I don’t have to look at the paper.

  “Is Mr. Garner avoiding me? Is he really interested in doing this interview at all?”

  “You’d have to ask him that.”

  “Why would he even agree to meet with me if he’s just going to change his mind?”

  Ryan gives me what would be a devilish grin if he didn’t possess such adorable dimples. “Mr.
Garner is busy. Entertaining the press isn’t exactly on his list of priorities.”

  “Okay, but you would think it might be. The press can help him. We can bring more attention to everything he’s doing, more prestige—”

  “I think he’s doing quite fine,” Ryan interrupts.

  I let out an exasperated sigh.

  “You’re a really devoted assistant, aren’t you?”

  “Mr. Garner pays well.”

  I bite down on the inside of my lip to stop myself from screeching in frustration. With this kind of back and forth, I’m going to get nothing on Zach Garner. I’ll have to call Mr. Ford and tell him the article is a bust.

  “Look.” Ryan’s voice is softer, his eyes understanding. “I know none of this is what you want to hear, and you’re only doing your job…but Mr. Garner is a private person. Some people are. And just because someone is high profile doesn’t mean their privacy shouldn’t be respected. He spent years building up his company, not setting himself up to be media fodder. At the very least, he deserves the right to live removed from the bullshit of it all.”

  The words ring true. There’s no arguing with them.

  Unexpectedly, Ryan reaches over and presses the pause button on my recording app. “Now let’s get back to you.”

  “What?” I dazedly ask.

  “Are you from San Francisco?”

  “LA area.”

  “Ah. The Hollywood Hills?”

  “Pasadena,” I slowly answer. “Why are you asking me this?”

  “Isn’t this how it works? Quid pro quo. An even exchange. You ask me some questions, I ask you some.”

  “It’s not exactly even if you’re not giving me the information I need.”

  “Touché,” he smiles.

  I try to suppress my own grin, but it can’t be checked. This guy is getting to me. And is he…? No. He couldn’t be hitting on me. He’s probably just trying to divert attention away from his boss.

  “And this job,” Ryan continues, “Is it where you want to be? Do you see yourself always working at a local paper?”

  I know he’s probably just playing games, but maybe I can find some way to turn this to my advantage. If he lets down his guard enough, he might just let some crucial information on Mr. Garner slip.

  “I’d like to be at a bigger publication one day, obviously,” I answer.

  “Obviously,” he smiles.

  “Hey, the Tribune isn’t that bad. It’s not that small-time! We have readers out of the area.”

  “I didn’t say it was that bad,” I laugh.

  I purse my lips. He’s caught me in his web again.

  But, God, do I love it. When was the last time I met a man who was sharp and attractive?

  Never. That might actually be the honest answer.

  “And what do you do for fun?”

  I laugh. “This makes me feel like I’m filling out an online dating profile.”

  “Well, I was going to ask you about your sign next… What are you, Virgo? Aries?”

  “I’m not answering that one.”

  “Virgo.”

  “I like to go camping and hiking,” I answer, pointedly dodging the astrology question.

  His eyebrows rise. “You don’t say.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “And tell me…” He rests his arm on the edge of the bar and leans closer. His cologne wafts my way. Slightly spicy, but clean and agreeable. My temperature jumps up. “Who do you like to go camping with? Your boyfriend?”

  My heart nearly stops. He is flirting with me.

  My swallow is loud. “No. Unfortunately, my adventures in dating in San Francisco haven’t ended too well.”

  Ryan straightens up, his eyes still on me. “That’s too bad,” he says in a voice that makes it clear it’s not bad at all.

  “Uh-huh. Too bad,” I whisper, sounding like a caveman.

  “Have you ever been to Inspiration Point?”

  “I love Inspiration Point!”

  “The views…”

  “Yeah,” I eagerly nod. “They’re great. I’m always trying to get my friend Miranda to go with me there, but she works two jobs and hardly has the time.”

  “Maybe you should ask outside of your usual circle.”

  His eyes speak volumes. And maybe it’s the gin or the giddiness that comes with discovering an unexpected connection with someone, but I don’t feel nervous at all. Usually I let guys make the first move, waiting for them to call the shots and show me just how much they want me. But tonight I don’t feel that way. I feel brave—cocky, almost.

  But there’s still the story I came here for. I may be a 23-year-old romantic, but I’m a journalist first and foremost.

  “It’s too bad you’re busy as well,” I flirtatiously answer.

  “I don’t think I ever said that.”

  “You don’t have to. You work for Zach Garner.”

  He lifts his chin, gaze jumping across my face.

  “Let’s go grab some dinner.”

  “You’re not going to give it up that easily, huh?”

  He stands, wearing a smile dripping with confidence.

  “I have the sense you like me so much better because of that.”

  Like with almost everything else tonight, he’s right.

  Chapter 3

  It could be a piece about my own desperate search for a hard-to-pin-down subject… It could be about how Zach Garner puts other people between him and the rest of the world as a buffer…

  As Ryan and I walk toward the door of the tapas bar, potential new angles run through my head. It doesn’t look like I’m going to get any more information on Garner than I already have, so I’m just going to have to make do with what I’ve got. The fact that I’ve tried so hard and still come up short might in itself be interesting. Zach Garner’s ability to evade the public is no doubt compelling. As long as I can find the right approach to the article, I should be good.

  The night is perfect, the air balmy and the traffic on Lombard Street singing. Ryan turns to me, hands in his pockets.

  “What do you like for dinner? There’s a nice Thai place near here. There’s also a gastropub. Or we could go somewhere else.”

  He watches me, waiting for my response.

  For some reason, I’m not hungry at all. But I don’t want our time together to end. Even if I don’t get any more information on Ryan’s boss.

  “What would you like to do?” I ask.

  “You’re my guest.”

  “Your guest?” I flirtatiously ask. “I thought I was just someone your boss assigned you to distract.”

  Ryan smirks and looks down at the ground. When he looks back up, the lights from the street and restaurant fronts shine in his eyes. “Don’t you think we’re past that?” he huskily asks.

  The deep seductive quality of his voice makes…me…melt. I don’t know how my legs are still managing to hold me up.

  “There’s also my place.” He cocks his head at me. “Not to brag, but I’m a mean cook. I usually spend half the weekend in my kitchen.”

  “You live near here?”

  “Just a few blocks away.”

  “Really.”

  There’s no way I can say no to this. I may not be hungry, but I want to see this guy’s place, to get a taste of how he lives, to get…

  I can’t let my thoughts go any further. All I know is that my body is alert in a way it’s never been, my heart is fluttering, and the city around me has come to life. I don’t want this evening to end.

  “I would love to see your place.”

  His face is smooth, but the energy is there in his eyes. “Great. It’s right this way.”

  We walk around the corner and down a few streets, the journey ending at an apartment building with a doorman and giant potted plants outside.

  The lobby itself is equally posh. Everything is new, decorated in black and white. I surreptitiously check the place out as we enter the elevator. Ryan swipes his key fob.

  “Mr. Garner m
ust like having you so close to the office,” I comment.

  “It has its perks.”

  The elevator numbers light up, continuing past ten and on. I wait for the ride to stop, but it’s not until we’re at the very top floor that it does. As the doors glide open, I inhale a surprised breath. We’re not in a hallway, but in the foyer of an apartment. Or, rather, the building’s penthouse.

  Beyond the foyer’s doorway, a living room containing a whole wall of windows shows off a sparkling view of the city. To the left and the right, more rooms branch off. Though each room looks small, there seem to be plenty of them.

  Ryan lightly touches his hand against the small of my back as he walks by, and a tingle shoots through me.

  “Make yourself at home. Let me whip something up.”

  I don’t answer. I’m too busy checking out the walls of the living room. Ryan clearly has a taste for modern art, but there are no photographs of family or friends. The place is also immaculate, the few objects he owns in their special places and not a speck of dust to be found.

  “Would you care for another drink?” he calls from somewhere in the penthouse.

  “Sure,” I manage to call back. My throat isn’t working right. I’m not thinking about the article anymore, though. There’s only one thing on my mind. I know this is moving fast, that I only just met the guy, but I’m absolutely desperate to know what it would be like to have Ryan’s skin against mine.

  He enters the living room, two tumblers of golden brown liquid—presumably whiskey—in his hands. He offers me one, but I don’t take it.

  “I didn’t really want that,” I choke out.

  “Okay,” he slowly answers, setting the drinks on the nearby coffee table. “What would you like?”

  Now it’s really hard to talk. Electricity shoots through my fingers, and I’m starting to shake. I can’t take my eyes off of Ryan, though. The way he gazes down at me, an intensity like none I’ve ever experienced. No man has looked at me in such a…hungry way.

  Slowly, he steps forward and brushes some hair away from my face.

  “Now that I have you here, maybe I can properly ask you out.”

  I have to smile at that.

  “Ask me out to what?”

  He pretends to think about it.