Loving the Bodyguard

by Noelle Adams

  “It’s been awhile, hasn’t it, sugar?” he whispered hoarsely. Sliding his fingers up her sleek, toned thighs, he settled his hands on her buttocks, grasping each firm globe with a strong hand. A quick cry of pleasure escaped her mouth, and she felt him pulse inside her in response. “Let me help you out a little.”

  He showed her how to move, awaking memories long buried, sensations long denied. Slowly at first, he guided her forward and up, down and back, each movement flowing into the next, every inch a new and marvelous feeling – familiar but exciting. So, so exciting. As their passion mounted, they began to move more quickly, their joint needs becoming frantic.

  Blake heard her own voice crying hoarsely into the night as pleasure swelled inside her. As her cries became louder she felt him grasp her flesh tightly, and in a moment of pure electric joy, they exploded together.

  Some time later she found herself lying on his chest, with her cheek resting against his heart. His hands were tangled softly in her hair. As her eyes fluttered open, he breathed deeply.

  “We should get going,” he said softly.

  “Mmmm, I don’t want to move.” She smiled sleepily, feeling a delicious golden drowsiness seep through her limbs. “Let’s just stay here for another decade or so.”

  He chuckled. “We’ll eat grass, and drink rainwater.” He lifted his head to look at her. “Does it rain here?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Good. Then we’ll drink rainwater sometimes. And the rest of the time – “

  “The rest of the time, we’ll live off each other.” She met his gaze with an impish grin.

  “Sounds good to me.” He rolled her onto her back, landing gently on top of her. “Shall we start right now?”

  Fifteen

  Sounds, distant and blurry, filtered their way through Caleb’s sleeping brain to the consciousness beneath. He stirred, reluctant to wake. It had been a mighty long time since he had woken up in a strange bed after a night of passion, and he wanted to draw out this moment for as long as possible, as he had tried to draw out so many moments the night before.

  While his mind moved grudgingly toward wakefulness, he stretched out his hand, moving languorously through soft linen sheets toward the woman he thought was sleeping next to him. When he discovered an empty space where warm, tempting flesh should be, he opened his eyes.

  Pale light shone down from a skylight over the bed. From behind him came the soft rush of a shower running, and the rich, galvanizing scent of coffee wafted like vapor through the air. He started to sit up, then decided that motion could wait. Every muscle felt like jello, every breath was both a pain and a pleasure. He gave up and lay back in the soft bed with a sigh of contentment, taking in his surroundings from where he lay.

  The room in which he found himself was medium-sized, with dark polished flooring and pale, creamy green walls. The bed floated like a cloud on a dais in the middle of the floor, piled high with deep pillows and a thick down comforter. It faced a wall of French doors which looked out onto the long deck that stretched along the back of the house. The walls were graced by oil paintings of abstract scenes in natural tones: closeups of grass and light on the water. The whole feeling was one of peace and tranquility, like sleeping outside.

  This was Blake’s room at the Entwistle Ridge house and, like many other things about the lady, her decorating taste surprised him. Of course, it now made perfect sense to him that she and Rube would have separate sleeping quarters. That mystery had been fully and completely solved last night. Lord, but he felt sorry for the poor bastard who had to live with Blake and couldn’t make love to her. That wasn’t a life for anyone. On the other hand, if Rube was actually thinking about doing Blake harm, it wasn’t like he deserved anybody’s sympathy, let alone Caleb’s.

  And with that thought, the twin clouds of guilt and worry began to creep their way across Caleb’s mental landscape. Blake had told him intimate things about herself, had shared herself with him in every way possible. And in return he had taken advantage of her vulnerability, and had ended up in her bed.

  And that didn’t exactly sit well with him.

  There was only one thing for him to do, and he’d known it since she first kissed him last night. He had to resign from Steve’s employ and tell Blake everything. He’d stay with her if she would have him: protect her, love her, but he wouldn’t take money for it.

  He heard a door behind him open, and Blake entered in a cloud of steam, bringing the clean smell of milled soap into the room with her. “Well, good morning, sleepyhead,” she said, coming around the carved oak headboard. “I was wondering if you’d ever wake up.”

  She smiled lazily as she stretched out on the bed next to him, her thick terrycloth robe hiding parts that would have been marvelously distracting. Her damp hair was combed away from her face, which looked pure and untouched in the morning light. “Good morning yourself, gorgeous.”

  “Did you drink your coffee?”

  “Coffee?” he perked up. “Where?”

  “I left if for you, right there.”

  He turned his head to follow her gesture, and saw a small nightstand on which rested a thick white mug filled with dark brown liquid.

  “Hey, thanks. I can’t believe I didn’t realize that this was here.” He propped himself on one elbow, reaching for the cup. At the first sip he felt his lethargy begin to lift, and he sighed.

  “Feeling better?” she teased.

  “I haven’t felt this good in years. I’m like a new man.”

  She nudged him with her toe. “Nothing wrong with the old one.”

  “Well, thanks for that.”

  “Anyway, lazybones, I have to go out.” She sat up and raked her fingers through her hair. “I have an appointment – a lunch date, actually.”

  “Oh? Should I be jealous?”

  “No need. It’s my friend Mira.”

  “But didn’t you just – ” He was about to ask if she hadn’t just seen Mira yesterday, but he caught himself in time. He wasn’t supposed to know about yesterday. “I mean, you can’t just leave me here all by my lonesome, can you?”

  “Why not? Are you going to steal the silverware, or something?”

  “Never use it. I eat with my bare hands, like all real men.”

  “That’s not all you do with your bare hands.”

  Warm memories of last night – and early this morning – washed over him. She didn’t really think that he was going to let her leave this room untouched, did she?

  But she saw the look in his eye and hopped up from the bed, dancing away. “Not now, cowboy. I’m late already.”

  “Late? I thought you said you were meeting for lunch. What time is it?”

  “Eleven-thirty.”

  “What?” He dropped his empty coffee cup on the side table and sat up. “I haven’t slept past seven since I don’t know when!”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Well, don’t be too hard on yourself, you had a rough night.”

  “That’s the kind of ‘rough’ I wouldn’t mind having every night for the rest of my life.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized their implication. He saw Blake flush with pleasure, then look away. He wondered if she liked the idea of spending more nights – all of them, in fact – with him, or if she was just flattered that it was being considered, even if it was in a roundabout way.

  When she met his gaze again she was still smiling. “Well, you sure know how to make a girl feel appreciated. But if I don’t go now, I may miss seeing Mira, and then how will I brag about what a great lay you are?”

  “You’re going to tell her about us? Are you sure that’s okay?”

  “She’s my best friend. She knows how to keep my secrets.”

  Caleb remembered how close the two women had looked at lunch yesterday, and he figured that that was probably true. Besides, if Blake went to lunch with a friend it would leave him free to go see Steve. And the sooner he saw Steve, the sooner he could get back to Blake with a clear conscience. She’d
be safe while he was gone; Caleb would verify that the secondary surveillance team was on her before he let her get far.

  “Well, I guess I have no choice but to let you go. But – ” he lunged forward and grabbed the sash of her bathrobe. It fell open with satisfying ease. “You can wait another five minutes, can’t you?”

  “Five minutes?” she laughed, coming willingly back to bed. “Buddy, you better make that at least fifteen!”

  Caleb wasn’t sure how to broach things with Steve, but as it turned out it was easier than he thought. He stuck to his tried-and-true method of handling sticky situations: tell the truth, and do it fast. Of course, he hadn’t exactly applied that philosophy to the sticky situation he’d gotten himself into with Blake, but he’d work that out later. Steve had to come first.

  “You were right, man,” he said bluntly. “I’m way too close to this. And I like it that way.”

  Steve leaned back in his chair and sighed. “I was afraid of that,” he said. “So what do you want to do?”

  “Quit. Not quit her, but quit the job. I want to tell Blake everything. Then if she’ll have me, I’ll stay with her, protect her from right by her side, not behind some bush.”

  “Do you think she’ll be able to handle the truth when you finally give it to her?”

  “I think that girl could lasso the moon if she set her mind to it. Don’t sweat that part. Just find someone else to put onto covert surveillance. I’ll take the overt surveillance.”

  Steve laughed. “Hasn’t exactly been ‘covert’ for awhile, now has it?”

  “Not exactly, no.” Caleb couldn’t help but grin in response.

  Levity died out of Steve’s face like the sun slipping behind a hill. His eyes sobered. “Problem is, we got some new intel this morning, and it’s not good.”

  Caleb sat up. “Tell me.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve gotten word that Rube is moving his operation overseas, probably to Europe. He’s cutting ties to all of his U.S. operations – and unfortunately, Blake is one of those ties.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m afraid there’s no doubt about it, my friend. Her life is in danger.” He turned to pick up a file from his back shelf. “I’m stepping up her security. I have a couple good men that I want you to meet, and then we can discuss telling Blake the truth. The way things are going it’s probably a good idea. How do you think she’ll take it when – “

  But by the time he turned around again, Caleb was already gone.

  Steve dropped the file on his desk, and stared out the window at the magnificent view for which he’d paid so dearly. “Good luck, buddy,” he said softly. “Something tells me you’re going to need it.”

  Sixteen

  “Well, no wonder you look so mellow today,” Mira drawled, stirring her lunchtime cocktail with a long index finger. “I guess there’s something to be said for those corn-fed farm boys after all, now isn’t there?”

  “I think it’s safe to say that there is.” Blake felt an idiotic smile spread over her face, and was well aware that it wasn’t the first time today that she’d worn this particular love-stupid expression. She picked up her own Spicy Mango Martini and swirled it gently before tasting. Mmm – fiery and sweet. And not the only thing in her life that could be described that way.

  “Honey, I’ve known you for years, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so happy,” Mira said.

  “I have to admit, I’m floating. It’s all blue skies and rainbows, you know? Heady stuff.”

  “Well, love does make the world go ‘round.” Mira licked the tip of her finger deliberately before taking a sip of her drink.

  Blake shook her head. “There’s that word again! You’re a little too fond of it, in my opinion.”

  “Nobody around here wants your opinion, sweetie,” Mira teased. “Especially not about the dreaded L-word.”

  “Yes, well, ‘lunch’ is the only L-word I’m interested in at the moment,” Blake said calmly, picking up her menu. “You already know what you want. What am I going to have?”

  They were sitting at one of the small two-person tables that lined the walls of Nobu Malibu’s enclosed patio. Mira had been adamant about having lunch here, claiming that she was jonesing for their black cod with miso. Given the way gossip traveled on the LA grapevine, Blake felt a little nervous discussing her private life out in the open, but the gentle murmur of conversation from their fellow diners, along with the swish of traffic from Santa Monica Boulevard not far away, provided a satisfying buffer to their conversation. Besides, it was never easy to deny Mira anything that she wanted.

  Blake looked at her friend over the top of the menu. Cool as ever, Mira was serenely sipping her drink, looking as if there was nothing more important on her mind than what brand of gin they were using in the cocktails. She hadn’t given Blake a clue as to why she’d asked to see her for lunch, and so far she was acting as if Blake’s love life were the only interesting thing in the world.

  The waiter arrived, interrupting Blake’s reverie. She looked back at the menu and chose at random, settling on the Chilean sea bass with black bean sauce.

  “So, to what do I owe the great and rare pleasure of seeing you two days in a row?” Blake asked when the waiter departed.

  Mira was silent for a moment, then she blurted, “I think Rudolpho’s going to propose!” and promptly burst into tears.

  So much for being cool and serene, Blake thought. She reached out and took Mira’s hand, squeezing it. “And the thought is so appalling that it just makes you weep?” she asked gently, knowing the answer.

  “No, it’s wonderful.” Mira pulled a tissue from her purse and turned her head as she blew her nose. “It’s better than wonderful! It’s magnificent, perfect… and just plain terrible!” The tears started again, and Blake felt an answering sting in her own eyes, even as her mouth curved into a smile.

  “You love him very much, don’t you?”

  “So, so much! But that’s the problem. I mean, the blue skies and rainbows you were talking about? It can’t possibly last. It’s too good to last for a single year, let alone for the rest of our lives! So what’s the point of even trying?”

  Blake looked at the younger woman and for the first time, she really felt the yawning gap in their ages. “The rest of our lives” has an entirely different sound at twenty-one than it does at…well, at Blake’s slightly – ever so slightly – more mature age.

  She gave Mira’s hand another squeeze and then sat back. “What makes you so sure he’s going to propose, anyway?” she asked innocently, taking a swallow of her drink.

  Mira’s tears dried instantly, as Blake had known they would. She gave Blake an incredulous look. “It’s not like he’s the first one to do it. I know the signs.” Mira tossed her hair and straightened her shoulders in unconscious and completely justified arrogance, making Blake smother a grin.

  “And the signs are…?”

  Mira sighed. “Last night I mentioned that I’d invited you to come along to San Francisco with us, and right away he got all irritated. I mean, it’s not the first time that I’ve invited girl friends to travel with us, and he’s never minded before. But yesterday he said that he didn’t want to ‘worry’ about anyone but me. I didn’t like his use of that word ‘worry,’ and I let him know it. Then he got very romantic, and said he just wants me all to himself because he has something important to talk to me about.”

  Blake considered. In the world of relationships, those words did usually mean either break-up or marriage proposal. And if Rudolpho was taking Mira on a romantic trip, it definitely didn’t sound like there was a break-up in the offing.

  “And what do you think you’ll say if he does pop the question?”

  “I have no idea.” Mira bit her lip as it started to tremble. She sipped her drink to ward off another round of tears. “I’m crazy in love with this guy, but does that really mean it’s time for marriage? Things are so perfect now, you know?”

  �
�My mother always said that no matter how perfect something seems, eventually flaws will start to show themselves,” Blake told her. “I guess the question is, do you think that the two of you have what it takes to hang in there when the going starts to get rough?”

  Mira thought about that. “I don’t have the answer for that right now. Maybe when he asks me – if he asks me – I’ll know by then. What about you?”

  Blake crossed her arms in an involuntarily defensive pose. “What about me, what?”

  “What about you and Caleb? I know that you just met, but do you think you guys will be able to… make something of your relationship?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, with Rube gone and Caleb here, my life has gotten complicated, to say the least. I don’t even know if love can exist, much less survive, under these circumstances.”

  The two women faced each other across the tiny table, sharply aware that their problems were as old as time, and as complex and delicate as the recipe for a spicy mango martini.

  “So,” Mira said at length, “where does that leave us?”

  Blake gave a rueful smile. “In a tiny boat, floating on an enormous sea of uncertainty.”

  “Well, at least we’re in that boat together.”

  Mira raised her glass half-heartedly, and Blake echoed the gesture. “You know it, babe. You know it.”

  Their love lives may have been breaking strange new ground, but at least their lunch was predictably delicious. By the time they were finished they had each consumed several more cocktails, making Blake very glad that they had both decided to take taxis to the restaurant.

  Mira’s cab arrived first, and she left with a promise to call soon. Blake watched her go, wishing that she could have confided more fully in her friend about everything that had happened over the past two weeks. Rube’s departure on top of Caleb’s arrival made life much more confusing – and scary – than she had dared to let on.

  Glancing at her watch, she decided that she had time to run to the restroom before her taxi arrived. As she was on her way back out the door, she ran right into a man who stepped out from around the corner.