The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones

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The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones Page 9

by Susan Mallery


  Jack finished his beer. “We used paper plates. How much can there be? Let’s just all do it.”

  With that, the men trooped into the kitchen and began cleaning. Mike followed along. He grabbed a dish towel and dried the serving bowls as they were passed to him. Darren collected trash, Roger washed, Sam put the leftovers in the refrigerator, Jack wiped off countertops.

  The higher-pitched conversation of the women caught his attention. He peered outside. All six had changed into bathing suits and were sitting on the edge of the pool or slipping into the Jacuzzi. His gaze settled on Cindy. She’d put on a one-piece dark green suit that matched her eyes. A headband held her hair off her face, but his attention didn’t stray much above her shoulders.

  The suit hugged her curves, outlining her full breasts and emphasizing the shape of her hips. He felt his mouth grow dry. None of the other men seemed to notice their wives. He wondered how long he would have to be with Cindy before he ceased to appreciate her body and the way she moved. He supposed she wasn’t anything extraordinary, but she appealed to him on a fundamental level. As if he’d been waiting for her all his life.

  Nelson was a fool, he thought, not for the first time. Yet, he couldn’t help being pleased by the fact that she was single. Of course, he wasn’t going to do anything stupid like try to get involved. It would be crazy for both of them. They had nothing in common.

  “I gotta check on the kids,” Roger said, walking over to the wall phone by the refrigerator.

  The heavyset man who’d implied an interest in his young female assistant spent fifteen minutes on the phone with his two children, who had been left without a sitter for the first time.

  Jack and Darren joined their wives in the pool and swam around with them in their arms.

  Mike stood in the kitchen and stared out the window, close to but not part of their world. What would it be like to have a family to come home to, to actually celebrate holidays instead of ignoring them? What would it feel like to commit to someone forever? To have children and a mortgage, maybe even a dog. How would his life be different if he had a place to come home to?

  * * *

  “You’re limping more than you usually do,” Cindy said, moving closer to Mike and fighting the urge to slip an arm around his waist. She doubted he would appreciate the help.

  “I know.” They closed the gate behind them and started down Beth’s driveway. “I did too much at the gym.”

  “I’m sure standing around at the party didn’t help.” Even if he had looked mighty fine doing it.

  Cindy smiled faintly, knowing he wouldn’t be able to see her expression in the darkness. It was nearly eleven. They’d stayed late at the barbecue, swimming, and eating too much dessert. She patted her stomach and knew she would now be fighting six pounds instead of five.

  She shifted the plastic bag containing the empty salad bowl and cake plate to her other hand. “Are you going to be able to make it?”

  “Sure. As long as we go slow.” He held on to the fence until they reached the house, then he started down the driveway. “You can go ahead if you’d like.”

  “No. I’d be afraid you wouldn’t make it across the street. You can lean on me.”

  He shook his head. “I’m too heavy.”

  The streetlamp was two doors down and the circle of light didn’t reach this far. They’d moved out of the range of Beth’s back porch light. Night insects chirped and buzzed around them. It was still hot, but without the intensity of the sun. She could smell tropical flowers and cut grass.

  Cindy had pulled a T-shirt over her swimsuit, but the rest of her clothes were in the plastic bag with the serving pieces. She swung the bag back and forth in time with their slow steps.

  “Did you have a good time?” she asked.

  “It was different.”

  “Hmm, why do I think that’s a no?”

  They’d reached the sidewalk. Mike paused. “It’s not a no. I’ve never been to a barbecue before. It was unusual. I’m starting to learn your suburban rituals.”

  He drew in a deep breath. “If it’s not too much trouble, could I put my arm around you?”

  “Sure.” She moved closer. “Lean as much as you need to. I’m stronger than I look.”

  His arm settled on her shoulders. She could feel his heat and inhale the scent of him. He smelled masculine. It had been a long time since she’d been this close to the opposite sex. Years, in fact, not counting brotherly hugs from her friends’ husbands or the moments she had spent trapped under Mike on the sofa.

  She placed her arm around his waist and held on. “You doing okay?”

  “Fine. Sorry to be such a problem.”

  “It’s no big deal. I should have noticed you were in pain.” She tried not to notice how right it felt to be next to him. It was just because he was a good-looking man, she told herself. But she knew it was more than that, and it scared her to death.

  “I’m glad we went tonight,” she said, to distract herself. “Having plans on Saturday night helps me forget the kids are gone.”

  “You really miss them.”

  “Of course.”

  “But I heard you say you wanted Nelson to spend more time with them.”

  They inched their way down the driveway onto the street. She could feel Mike tense with each step. “It’s hard for me when they’re gone, but I believe children need a mother and a father. I’m doing the best I can, but I still want them to see Nelson. He doesn’t want the responsibility, though.” She sighed. “There’s a father-daughter campout in a few weeks. He swears he’s going to go with Allison, but I know him. About a week before they’re supposed to go, he’ll call and tell me that something’s come up. That will break her heart. I think Nelson doesn’t want to risk spending time alone with the children. I think he’s afraid of them.”

  “This guy has a lot of problems, Cindy. You have great kids.”

  She felt a flush of pleasure. “You don’t know any other kids, so why should I trust your judgment?”

  “I just know.” He limped silently for a minute then said, “If Nelson backs out of the campout, I’ll go with Allison.”

  She stopped and stared at him. They were standing a little more than halfway across the street. The streetlight didn’t reach here and there weren’t any cars on the cul-de-sac.

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Why not? I like Allison, and I enjoy camping. It was one of the best things about being in the service.”

  “You’re crazy,” she told him. “We’re talking about a father-daughter campout. There will be seventy or eighty little girls running around and getting into trouble.”

  “So?”

  “You must have hit your head harder than you thought when you fell off that building.”

  Her tone was teasing. He glanced at her. “It’s no big deal. I’m happy to go with her. Really. Why is that so hard to believe?”

  Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and she could make out his features. He was still good-looking enough to make her thighs overheat and her palms sweat. Right now they were standing so close, their hips brushed together. His arm was around her shoulders, hers was around his waist. If she was really foolish, she could pretend this was a romantic moment. That he was holding her because he wanted to and not because his leg was about to give out on him.

  “You’re very sweet,” she said. Without thinking, she raised herself on tiptoe and leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Thank you,” she murmured just before she touched his skin.

  But in that second, he turned his head and her lips brushed against his mouth.

  Cindy froze. She told herself she should pull back, but the arm around her shoulders tightened. Besides, she didn’t want to. She hadn’t felt that shiver of anticipation in a long time, although she wasn’t sure she remembered exactly how one kissed a stranger.

  While she was still debating, Mike took the decision out of her hands. He bent his head closer and pressed his mouth to hers.

 
His lips were as firm as she’d imagined them to be. He didn’t attack or invade; instead, he held the contact, prolonging it until the electricity crackled between them and she had to drop the plastic bag she was holding.

  Her eyes were closed. It seemed like too much trouble to open them. He drew back slightly and murmured her name. She smiled at the sound of his voice. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. She knew she wasn’t, but at that moment, she didn’t care.

  He pulled her firmly against him. She went willingly. His chest was broad and hard. Her breasts nestled against him as if they’d been as lonely as the rest of her. She angled her head so when he brought his mouth down on hers again, she could feel all of him.

  He kissed with the slow thoroughness of a man who enjoyed the act for its own sake and not just because it was the quickest road to sex. He brushed her mouth back and forth, then touched her lower lip with his tongue.

  She parted for him, wanting to taste him and feel him, but he didn’t enter. Instead, he traced the shape of her mouth, learning every curve, as if later he might be called upon to describe it in detail. She raised her free hand to his shoulders and melted against him.

  There was heat. From the concrete road, from the night air and from their bodies. The temperature between them rose until she felt the flames licking at her most feminine place.

  He was rock-hard, the muscles in his back thick ropes that shifted and tightened under her fingers. The arms around her shoulders and waist tightened as if he feared she would want to escape. She thought of telling him that it had never crossed her mind, but she didn’t want to interrupt his kiss.

  He drew her lower lip into his mouth and suckled gently. He swept his tongue across her dampened skin, sending hot liquid need down her chest and into her breasts. She felt herself swelling, aching, reaching for him. Her hips pressed against his and she cradled the part of him that echoed her desire.

  In the back of her mind, some small still-rational part of her compared him to Nelson. They were the same height so the pose should be familiar. But it wasn’t. Mike bent toward her as if kissing her was the most important task of his day. Nelson had always made her stretch up to meet him. Their bodies were different. Nelson had been wider, softer. Mike was all hard planes and steely muscles. She hadn’t kissed a man other than her ex-husband in nearly twelve years. She’d forgotten how wonderful kissing could be.

  At last he entered her mouth. Instantly, all thought fled as she could only feel the gentle, smooth exploration. He tasted of the brandy they’d had, and deliciously of himself. She wanted to crawl closer, to be inside of him, feeling more. She wanted to touch him everywhere and be touched in return.

  She stroked his back, his shoulders, then the short silky strands of his hair. His palms echoed her journey in reverse as he first buried his fingers in her hair, caressed her shoulders and back, then dipped lower to cup her derriere.

  She arched her hips against him, bringing her belly into contact with his arousal. His body tensed and he groaned low in his throat.

  “Cindy,” he said softly, breaking the kiss and speaking into her ear.

  She slid her hips back and forth, taunting them both. His breathing was harsh. He punished her with sharp nips on her earlobe, then soothed the spot with moist kisses. The shivers started there and rippled down to her knees.

  As first kisses went, it was a pretty exciting one. She giggled.

  “Is that a statement about my technique?” he asked.

  “No, it’s just...” She caught her breath as his hand slid up her hip to her waist. She opened her eyes and stared at him. “Mike?”

  His face was taut with need, his mouth damp from their kisses. “What?” he asked.

  “That was my first kiss since the divorce,” she said quickly, suddenly too shy to look at him. “If I’d known it was going to be this good, I would have done it sooner.”

  He was silent so long she was forced to glance up at him. His eyes darkened with an emotion she couldn’t read. “Mike, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by—”

  He brought his mouth down on hers, effectively silencing her. She went to him willingly. His hand stayed on her waist, but she willed it to move higher. The ache in her breasts had reached a fever pitch she knew only his touch would soothe.

  When he didn’t react to her mental message, she tried something more direct. She swept her tongue into his mouth, touching him, tasting him. She rocked her hips against his, reaching her hands down to his rear and holding him in place. At last, his hand began to slide higher.

  The sharp metal-against-metal squeak of a garage door being closed caught her attention. She broke the kiss and turned her head to listen. At that moment, she realized they were standing in the middle of the street where virtually anyone could see them.

  “Oh, my,” she murmured. “What will the neighbors think?”

  Mike shifted away from her and straightened. He had to clear his throat before speaking. “That I’m the luckiest guy in town,” he said. He cleared his throat again. “I’m going to stay out here for a little bit. Why don’t you go on in?”

  She wanted to protest. A part of her was willing to continue what they’d been doing—even let it build to its natural conclusion. But the sensible part of her brain screamed that was out of the question. She barely knew the man. They couldn’t make love. Correction. There wasn’t any love here. They couldn’t have sex. She didn’t do that with men she didn’t know, and Mike, well, she didn’t know Mike’s thoughts on the subject, but she had a feeling she was the last woman he would choose.

  She picked up the plastic bag she’d dropped and glanced at him. “Are you going to be all right?”

  “Yeah. Just give me a minute to recover.”

  She liked that his voice was shaking a little. She walked the rest of the way across the road, stepped up onto the curb and headed for her front door. Her body was still humming from their encounter. But as she moved into the cool foyer and shut the door behind her, she realized how empty the house was, and how very alone she felt. Even when Mike came inside, he wasn’t coming home to her.

  Chapter Seven

  He was in enemy territory without a survival guide, and he had no one else but himself to blame.

  The grocery store was huge. Mike was used to small corner markets that carried one brand of only a few kinds of food, while sporting an impressive selection of beer and hard liquor. He limped in through the automatic door and entered a foyer. On one side was a machine that dispensed water, a full-size ice freezer, a popcorn machine that made the area smell like a movie theater and two large containers—one for paper bags, the other for plastic—with signs above them reminding shoppers to recycle.

  There was another set of sliding doors, then he entered the store itself. And stopped in his tracks.

  He had nothing to compare it to, but he knew he’d stepped into a strange and frightening land. There was merchandise everywhere. Not just food. From where he was standing he could see plants, a video-rental department, a pharmacy, a hot deli, a florist and a salad bar that would put most restaurants to shame.

  He swore under his breath.

  When he’d moved out of Cindy’s that morning, she’d offered to go grocery shopping for him, so he wouldn’t have to worry about stocking up on his first day alone. Foolishly, he’d turned her down. He hadn’t wanted to be any more trouble. Besides, they’d spent the last forty-eight hours performing an elaborate dance of avoidance and lies. Not only had they tried not to be alone together—a real trick for most of Sunday while her children were gone—they’d both pretended to forget the kiss. Or maybe he’d been the only one pretending. Maybe she’d been able to dismiss it from her mind.

  The memory of her soft mouth against his had kept him up all Saturday night. Two cold showers hadn’t helped his painful condition, nor had trying to think about something else.

  He’d kissed women before. He rarely went more than a few months without a bed partner, although the last year or so
had been pretty lean. But it was more than need that made him relive every moment of her in his arms. It was something much more dangerous and he didn’t want to know what it was.

  Before his line of thought produced its usual and obvious reaction, he limped over to the grocery carts and pulled one loose. It slid out easily. No sticky wheels or wobbly carts out here, he thought as he headed for the produce section.

  He needed everything. Grace had planned to be gone for at least three months, so both the refrigerator and pantry were empty. It hadn’t taken him long to settle into his sister’s place, probably because everything he owned fit into two duffel bags.

  His way of life was strange to Cindy. He’d seen it in the look on her face when she’d helped him pack. She kept asking if he didn’t have something else to take with him.

  As he stared at the rows of perfect peaches and nectarines, he snagged a plastic bag from the roll at the end of the counter and remembered last night. It had been the best time he’d had in months. The kids had arrived home about four. He and Cindy had gone to the video store and rented a couple of movies. They’d ordered pizza, then made root-beer floats.

  As he reached for a couple of nectarines, he tried to recall if he’d ever had a root-beer float before in his life. He’d sure never made one at home. The kids had laughed and Cindy had been smiling. Her green eyes had lit up with emotion as she stared at her children. She’d hugged them close, as if having them home was a precious gift, and they’d held on just as tightly. In that moment, he hadn’t felt left out as much as envious. He wanted that for himself, too. A place to belong. Someone to belong—

  His cart jerked in his hands. He turned his head and saw a petite dark-haired woman smiling at him.

  “Oops,” she said, and pulled her cart back. “Didn’t mean to bump you.” She glanced at the nectarines in his bag. “They’re on sale this week.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.” He looked up at the sign. It was on a chalkboard and illustrated by a cartoonlike figure.

 

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