For the first time since ‘The Incident’ I turn over and drop into a deep. dreamless sleep. When I wake again, the sun is high and I have a caffeine headache. Damn it. I grab a couple acetaminophen pills out of my purse and gag them down with a glass of warm water.
After, I find a kettle and some instant coffee, the most important part of the day. In minutes, heavenly java is steaming in my mug. I search the empty fridge and cupboards for cream or sweetener.
Whatever. Black it is.
Once caffeinated, I pick up my phone, push dial and let my breath out in a long stream.
Hopefully, Edna will find some other dog-walking jobs. I know none will have the house included but I’ll deal. The worst part will be sleeping in my car but it can’t be helped. After this final class at Columbia, I’ll be all caught up.
Outside, some cardinal warbles, looking for a mate. Good luck with that.
“Hello? Mrs. Weinstein?”
“Just a second. Is this Lila?”
I don’t bother to correct her. It’s Lilac, like the flower, but nobody ever gets it right. “Yes, Mrs. Weinstein, it’s me.”
“Did you get settled in all right last night?” In the background, her three beagles bay, almost drowning her out.
I shout into the phone, “Well, actually, that’s why I’m calling. Mr. Slate was not aware I would be staying in the guest house. He was actually quite annoyed.”
I leave out the part about the gun and mace.
“Oh dear. Just a sec.” It sounds as if she’s covering the mouthpiece of her phone but not successfully. “Mother? Are you there?”
An elderly woman responds like the teacher in the Charlie Brown specials. “Wa Wa Wahhhh.”
Mrs. Weinstein seems to understand fully and continues to converse as if I wasn’t on the other end of the phone. “Didn’t you inform Mr. Slate we got him a walker? Okay… Yes… Okay.”
She speaks again and I guess she’s addressing me, now. “Don’t go anywhere, dearie. I’m coming right over. Bye now.”
My cell phone indicates she hung up and I shake my head. Where the hell can I go? Mr. Sexy-Abs took my keys. I suppose I could just demand them back but something about going over to his house and knocking on his door is too much this morning. I need a hell of a lot more coffee to deal.
Not only that, unlike last night, my thoughts are clear and I’m in no hurry to go. The hundred bucks in my wallet won’t take me too far, especially when you consider my credit cards are maxed.
Chapter 3
Slate
Edna Weinstein’s muffler announces her arrival long before she turns into my drive. That’s why I’m waiting by my door as she parks in my paving-stone circle. When all five feet of her jump out of the car, I can’t help but note how her powder blue hair matches her Mercedes. She must be eighty which would make her mother over a hundred. Together, they’ve cornered the market on dog walkers or so I learned since becoming a foster puppy-parent.
After brushing the wrinkles out of her Hawaiian pantsuit, she uses her hand for a sun visor and squints up the steps. “Alexander James Slate. What did you say to that poor girl?”
Pup whines, so I let him out and hold his collar. “That poor girl you sent opened up my stitches. She would’ve maced me, too, if I hadn’t stopped her.”
“You probably scared the living daylights out of her. Poor little lamb.”
Are you shitting me? Little lamb?
I stay cool because she reminds me of my grandmother or maybe because she’s a friend of my boss’s wife. Perhaps, it’s because I have the dog by the collar. Whatever the reason, I don’t march down the steps, scoop her up, and set her back in her car.
My voice is tight as I reiterate my demands. “I was quite specific when I ordered a dog walker. I said I wanted a male.”
The pup woofs, his legs quiver, and my palm pushes down on his butt. “Stay.”
The woman steps between the two feng shui lions at the foot of my entrance. “Don’t be ridiculous. What difference does it make? You’re gone most of the time and you’ve got that whole empty cottage with no one in it.”
Suddenly, her eyes go wide, her hands shoot to her mouth, and in an exaggerated move, she covers her heart. “Is it because of your dear departed wife?”
Almost everyone knows there was nothing dear about my departed wife. Charlene slept around while I was deployed, killed my son, and most have the good sense not to speak of her.
“If I want a goddamned male employee, it’s none of your business.” My teeth grit down, my chest constricts, and my fists clench at my side.
“Woof.” The pup jumps up and I settle him down with a pat to the head. “Good boy.”
Mrs. Weinstein must be getting senile because she neither catches my tone nor the muscles pulsing in my neck.
“Don’t be rude, young man. For your information, all my men are booked. This is your only option and if you want my services, you’ll take what I give you. I’ll have you know I have a waiting list that goes out almost a year. The only reason I gave you Lila was to do Isabella a favor. Go ahead and try to find someone, especially a man.” Her chin waggles when she strains her neck to look up at me.
Damn it. Isabella is my boss’s wife and I don’t want this to get back to her. I never wanted a dog but the poor thing came to me wounded. What could I do? I wasn’t going to put him in a shelter. And, no way will I return him to his owner, not until I find out who shot him. What kind of bastard hurts an innocent puppy?
Besides, the dog has grown on me. At least he’ll have a good home while I sort this out. All this goes through my mind while I try to calm the puppy and the fuming octogenarian.
I heave out a sigh. “Fine. She can stay.”
“Hmph. I’ll cut you some slack, Alexander, because of what happened to your family, God rest their souls, but that doesn’t give you a free pass with me, forever. Now, march yourself over to the carriage house and apologize to that girl. I’ll hold the dog.”
“Me? Apologize to her? I’ll have you know she broke open my stitches and held a weapon to my face.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She rolls her eyes. “Everyone knows you’re Grayson Patten’s bodyguard and took a bullet for him. You can’t tell me that itty-bitty slip of a girl was any danger.”
Hell yeah, she was a danger and still is. My stupid cock hasn’t been so interested since my failed marriage. I sure as hell am never doing that again. Worse, last night, when the beauty stood between my thighs, I felt something break free in my chest. It’s far worse than lust and that can’t happen, either. I like my life the way it is.
“I’ll go speak with her.”
It’s no doubt the only way I’ll be rid of Mrs. Weinstein.
“Good idea, Alexander. I’ll wait here.” Her smug smile makes me feel about twelve as I hand off the pup’s collar and head to my guest house.
Pup whines and I know just how he feels. This sucks. I don’t want a beautiful young woman around who smells so good, with mile-long legs.
It’ll be hard but I can avoid her. She’s my dog walker, not my housekeeper, and not my nanny. For fuck’s sake, I’m Air Force, Special Ops. I’m a goddamned bodyguard for one of the richest men in the world. Surely, I can deal with one pretty little med student until I find a good home for Dog.
On second thought, I circle back for the pup. Perhaps, his cute charm will soften up the girl.
Shit, this may be pointless. When I circle the house, the brunette’s got the trunk open, her suitcase in hand.
Chapter 4
Lilac Starbird
By the time Slate arrives at the carriage house, I’m ready to go. I’d just convinced myself he wasn’t anywhere near as attractive as I imagined. All my hard work goes down the drain as he strides across the lawn with the puppy bounding at his side.
Dressed in ripped jeans and a button-down dress shirt he looks good enough to eat. A memory flashes of how his hard body pressed into mine. Zings shoot between my legs and I hold my
thighs tight.
No way, lady-lips. Not happening.
Dog gives a little yelp, Slate lets go, and the puppy rushes to me. When I squat, it licks my face. Meanwhile, Mr. Sexy-ass shrugs and saunters to me, hands in his front pockets.
That sure as hell doesn’t look like an apology.
I wasn’t eavesdropping but I couldn’t help but hear the exchange with Mrs. Weinstein. My windows were open and voices carry. It’s abundantly clear Alexander Slate wants me gone. He wants a male to walk his dog and like Mrs. Weinstein, I can’t figure what difference it makes. I do need this job but I won’t stay where I’m not wanted. Besides, I’m beginning to think he’s some kind of psychopath.
Come to think of it, I was lucky to come out of last night’s encounter unscathed. After all, I aimed a pretty real looking gun at the face of a very dangerous man.
I push on the pup’s hind quarters. “Sit.”
After a couple tries, the dog does as I ask and wags his tail so wildly, I give him a big hug. “Good job, Dog.”
Mr. Slate watches me, eyes couched, face unreadable as I slowly stand to deal with the inevitable showdown.
“Leaving?” He nods in the direction of my open trunk.
“Uh-huh.” I hold out my hand for my car keys.
There’s a couple coffee shops in town and a library where I can hang out, check my emails, and apply for jobs. Hopefully, one of the nanny positions is still available. If not, I’ll find a quiet place to park my car to spend the night. The dc converter in my car will allow me to heat up some water for ramen noodles.
“Stay.” He drops my keys into my palm and his fingers wrap around mine.
It’s not only his grip keeping me captive, it’s those eyes and how they stare into a broken part of my soul. It’s as if a huge invisible magnet holds us together. In the depths of those brown orbs, there’s pain under the surface. Like stepping in quicksand, I’m stuck, unable to get out.
I have no idea how long we stand there. It could be just seconds, maybe minutes, maybe a lifetime in some alternate universe.
Finally, I swallow hard and nod. “Okay.”
“Good.” He lets go of my hand, turns, and the spell is lifted.
“Wait. Hold on. How many times does the pup need to be walked?”
“You tell me. I never owned a dog before.”
The pup looks between the two of us, tail wagging madly, as if he understands we’re discussing his fate.
“We’ll start off three times a day, to see how it goes. Has he peed inside on the floor?”
“Hell, no.”
“Okay, so that’s a good sign. Did you feed him?”
He raises a brow which I take as a yes. Damn, getting information out of this man is going to be tough.
I figure as long as we’re negotiating, I need to set my terms. “I take a class in the city so I need Wednesday afternoons off.”
He frowns and nods. “Write everything down for me, including what you need for a salary.”
“Oh, no salary. I agreed to do this in exchange for a place to stay. That’s plenty.” I wonder if I’ve said too much when his brows furrow deeper.
He just shakes his head and points east. “There’s a park just down the road.”
“Wait. Do you have a leash?”
“I’ll leave it on the deck.” Rotating in one clean move, he strides across the lawn, and says something to Mrs. Weinstein who practically beams.
“Toodle-oo.” She waves at me and drives off in her blue Mercedes Benz.
“Wow. That was weird,” I say to no one but the pup.
As if he understands, he barks, tongue hanging out, tail thumping the ground.
“Okay. C’mon in. I’ll get changed then we can go.”
Apparently go is a word he recognizes because his ears perk up and he starts to bound away. Just in time, I grab his collar. “Whoaaaa. Just a moment.”
After more coffee, I get second thoughts about this job, not sure if it’s better than living out of my car. Perhaps, I can keep looking but for now, I’ve done all I can.
My suitcase is set on my bed, yet again, so I can don my favorite running clothes. After dressing in black spandex shorts and a lose tank top, I run up his deck stairs. On top, I find the promised leash, attach it to the puppy, lace my sneakers tightly, and grab my headphones.
The puppy’s surprisingly well behaved as he keeps pace beside me. Eventually, I’ll have to suggest a better leash that allows him the freedom to roam. My breath becomes regular as I find my pace to my tunes and adjust my gait. Running was my only lifeline after ‘The Incident.’ Thoughts of that fateful night seep in without warning.
I’d just transferred to Columbia U from Maine and knew no one. I was thrilled when a guy in my anatomy class invited me to a beer tasting at a local bar. I figured I’d have a good time. To be safe, I met him in that public place where a lot of students hang out. He got me a bitter ale and that’s all I remember until the next morning when I woke up in his bed. I got snippets of a struggle and me being held down but those memories are fleeting, at best.
I flunked out of anatomy and lost my scholarship. In fact, I almost lost everything that night. As I run over the gravel, my breath steadies, and my heart pounds. In my mind, I repeat my mantra over and over. If I want to make something of my life, I need to stay clear of men.
Chapter 5
Slate
She’s way too pretty. That’s the problem. And young. And naïve. In my book, those make up the most dangerous of trifectas. I got no business letting her stay, especially the way my cock swells whenever she gets close. The situation is already unacceptable and will blow up in my face if I let it continue.
Mrs. Weinstein may have been dealt a better hand to start with but the game has just begun. I asked for a male dog-sitter and I’m going to get one. However, it’s obvious this Starbird girl needs a place to stay; so much so, she forfeited her salary. I’ll ask around and find her another live-in position. That will get the nosey, old coot off my back. If needed, I’ll pay the girl’s room and board for the whole damn summer. Then, I’ll send the Boston socialite on her merry way, her long legs and tight ass far from my overly-interested appendage.
As if fate can hear my thoughts, Lilac Starbird bounces down my driveway with Dog at her side. Well-toned legs make me envision her ankles locked while I sink deep into her.
Thoughts like this are why she needs to go.
She probably won’t be home for a while so I use the opportunity to check out her stuff in my carriage house. Some people might say it’s a violation of privacy but she and I never signed any kind of agreement. Legally, she’s trespassing and I got every right. In my line of business, you learn fast to be careful or end up dead. I let my guard down once and it bit me in the ass. Never again.
As I suspected, she left everything unlocked, her purse and wallet resting on the kitchen table. That, however, is not what gets to me. Last night it was dark and I was revved up on adrenaline. Today, the curtains, the small appliances, and the wallpaper all serve to remind me why I never come here. It looks just like it did when I found my wife in bed with one of my neighbors.
Memories of the funeral come crashing into my consciousness and I sit with my head between my legs until I can breathe again.
I had someone clean up the place but it’s as if the ghost of my wife lingers, no doubt laughing at the way she made a fool out of me. I smartened up after the first time I found her and installed security cameras. I watched her fuck anything that pisses standing up while I was out saving the world. If it wasn’t for our baby boy, I would’ve kicked her ass to the curb.
Shit. At the thought of my son, my eyes water. Except for the three months I had saved up on leave, I hardly knew him. Damn. I should’ve torn this fucking carriage house down or turned it into a second garage. I could’ve rebuilt it and rented it out. Hell, I don’t know but I should not have left it here for that cock-tease of a college girl.
Resolved, I replace the s
ecurity camera in the drop ceiling without even hesitating. Tough shit. It’s for her own protection. After replacing the tiles, I find her wallet and snap pictures of all her cards. If her driver’s license is real, she’s older than I thought. At twenty-six anyone might wonder why she’s still in college. I would guess, with the haughty Boston accent and the way her panties are always in a twist, she comes from money.
That, however, doesn’t add up with needing a place to stay. Generally, I like a good mystery, but not where I live and not when my cock is so involved. This kind of attraction only happened to me once before and I was a hell of a lot younger. Stupid, you might even say. I was only eighteen and used it as an excuse for years. Not anymore. I just own my disaster of a first marriage; my own private Waterloo.
Lilac Starbird has a Columbia College ID. The picture looks quite a few years younger so she’s been at this college degree thing for a while. Her grades must suck or she’s changed majors a few times. Her emergency contact is listed as Kennebunkport, Maine, not Massachusetts. With that, I let out a deep breath and mentally apologize to my mom. Thank fuck she’s not in on this.
Pawing through the suitcase, I feel a bit like a perv but I need to know what makes her tick, why she’s in my life. She owns two pairs of jeans, one black skirt and a matching jacket. There’s a couple workout outfits similar to the ones she’s wearing, and tiny silk pajamas.
Down boy.
My lust swells yet again at the thought of her last night. Fuck it all to hell. I need to call one of my friends-with-benefits as soon as I get back to the main house.
She doesn’t own much so I finish up my search in no time. All in all, she seems to be just what she says. Wait just a minute. Scribbled on a scrap of paper is a familiar phone number. I check my contacts to be sure. How the hell does Lilac Starbird know Melanie Quinn? Now, that’s way too much of a coincidence.
Quickly, I lock up, and call Jack, the Quinn’s driver. Actually, like me, Jack’s more of a bodyguard and like me, likes to keep it low key.
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