HER BODYGUARD

by Michelle Jerott

  "Which means he's probably whacked a whole bunch of people."

  "Or not," Lili retorted.

  "Give me a break. I mean, he looks like he should be extorting money for some crime boss, and answering to the name Guido or Luigi."

  "And people tell me I have an overactive imagination. I think he's good-looking, in a sort of quiet, intense way."

  Lili plucked the cherry from her drink and popped it in her mouth, sucking off the tang of liquor before chewing it as she considered Matt. She recalled the little shiver of desire that had swept over her when he'd lifted her off the table during class. And sometimes when he looked at her, she swore she saw the heat of attraction in his eyes. There was something between them; exactly what, she didn't know – but something that shouldn't be there, that was certain.

  Twirling the cherry stem between her thumb and index finger, she said, "I wonder what he'd be like in bed."

  Pippa's pale brows shot upward. "Excuse me?"

  "You heard me." Lili continued to watch Matt, assessing him from beneath half-lowered lids as he leaned over to say something to Manny. "I go back to New York on Sunday, so if I make a complete idiot of myself, it's not like I'd ever have to see him again."

  "You're not joking, are you?"

  "There's definitely an attraction. And he's different from most of the men I've known."

  Pippa made a rude noise. "Just how many of your ex-boyfriends wore guns?"

  "None of them, and you know it."

  "Exactly. I don't think there's much long-term potential here. And if I'm hearing you right, that's what you're after." Pippa peeled the orange rind away from the slice in her drink, and ate the fruit. "Look, I understand. For whatever reason, some women have a thing for tough guys. But this Matt isn't playing the part of a bad boy – he's the genuine article. He may be exciting and different, but he's way out of your league."

  "A few minutes ago you told me I should be more adventurous. Maybe you're right. Maybe I could use a little excitement in my life."

  "Not his kind of excitement." Pippa sat forward, scrutinizing Matt, and when he noticed both of them staring at him, his brows drew together. "But I have to say, he looks like he'd have plenty of stamina. I bet he has a great ass, and if he has a dick to match the rest of him, I wouldn't blame you for wanting to take him for a test drive."

  Lili giggled, and tossed back the rest of her martini. A light-headed, cozy warmth slowly spread through her. Two drinks, and she already had a buzz.

  My oh my, she was getting old, all right.

  "Now, the other guy … he's definitely more my type," Pippa said. "I think it must be that hot Latin lover thing. Cha-cha, baby!"

  "Isn't that a bit of a stereotype?"

  Pippa winked. "Honey, some stereotypes aren't so bad."

  Lili giggled again, because by now both Manny and Matt were exchanging glances, looking wary and baffled. "They know we're talking about them."

  "And it's driving them nuts," Pippa said, sounding way too satisfied with herself. "Shit. My drink's gone. We need another."

  The suggestion sounded good, if problematic. "That'll knock us back another five years. I'm not sure I feel up to being sixteen tonight."

  "Oh, God, I can't even remember what sixteen was like. Probably subhuman, though." Pippa laughed. "We'll stop at three. I swear it."

  *

  Manny leaned toward Matt and asked, "Why are they staring at us?"

  "Beats me." Matt tipped back in his chair and eyed his zipper as discreetly as possible, just in case. It'd be pretty hard to look menacing with his pants unzipped and his package wagging free. "Probably too many martinis."

  He was glad to see Lili laughing and enjoying herself, but he didn't want her relaxing too much. Lili unnerved him under ordinary circumstances, and the thought of dealing with her when her inhibitions were lowered made him sweat – from apprehension or anticipation, he wasn't quite sure.

  Just three more days, that was all. Then he'd put her on a plane and she'd be somebody else's problem.

  While he watched, Lili stirred her new drink with her pinky finger, and then licked it. His dick shot to hard in an instant.

  Okay. Three very, very long days.

  "What's going on between you two?"

  At Manny's question, Matt looked away from Lili. "What?"

  "We've known each other a long time, and I can tell when something's wrong."

  "It's nothing you have to worry about."

  "You're still spending the nights on the love seat, right?" Manny asked, gaze unblinking – but he was stroking his goatee, a dead giveaway that he was bothered.

  "Do you think I'd sleep with a client?"

  "No, but if there was ever a client to mess you up, it would be this one."

  Matt turned his attention back at Lili, her dark head bent close to her friend's blond one, then surveyed the room. "I'm not going to lose it over her."

  "Maybe not, but she's under your skin. I can tell."

  No point in denying it. "Manny, the only way Lili Kavanaugh wouldn't get under my skin is if I were dead."

  The piano player launched into Billy Joel's "Piano Man," with the warning that this was the last time he'd play it for the night, or else the bartenders would shoot him.

  Matt continued watching the crowd. Men far outnumbered the women, and most of them were white urban professionals in their thirties and forties. While he didn't see anyone who matched the police sketch, he knew that in a crowded bar, with all the noise and the motion, it would be easy for a single individual to stay out of sight and wait for the right moment to strike.

  He checked in with Dal, who was exactly where he should be – sitting in the car. His rookie agent was doing all right, and well on his way to earning himself a topnotch recommendation for his file.

  "So this is your last assignment, huh?" Manny asked, sitting back, but still alert. "You're gonna move your sorry ass on out of here?"

  "Guess so."

  Manny shook his head. "I wish you the best, man, but I'm gonna miss working with you. We were a good team."

  Matt smiled. "When I get my agency up and running, you can always come work for me."

  "I might do that. Decided where you want to go yet?"

  "I've narrowed it down," Matt said with a shrug. "The security business is booming right now. I could go anywhere."

  The generous fee Lili's father had offered, plus the fact he owed Dan Armistead a favor, had been the deciding factors in taking this final, high-profile detail. The plans he'd put into place over a year ago were finally coming together, and after this week he'd have the rest of the startup cash he'd need to get out of the front line and open his own security business.

  "How about Miami? Nice weather, and lots of pretty girls in little clothes."

  Matt watched Lili and her friend. Pippa was a classic wet dream – tall, slender yet busty, with a wholesome, blond beauty. Yet she did nothing for him. She paled beside Lili, who was all color and energy and vitality.

  He looked back at Manny. "Pretty girls are nice, but I've always wanted a house on the ocean. Seattle would work just as well as Miami for that."

  "I hear the sun never shines in Seattle."

  "Nothing in life is perfect." Matt sat forward, focusing on a man – mid-thirties and of average build – sitting at the bar. Earlier, he'd noticed the man staring at Lili. In a see-and-be-seen bar like this, with men and women checking one another out, his behavior wasn't unusual, but now the man was pulling at his trousers, compulsively smoothing the fabric over his thighs – obviously agitated, and looking at Lili with increasing frequency.

  "Manny, check out the guy at the bar, in the tan suit."

  "He's eyeing our lady, and it looks like he's working himself into making some kind of move."

  Matt nodded. "Stay here. I want to get close to him."

  He stood, his movements casual, unhurried, then made his way to the bar. The bartenders were busy mixing drinks and working the tap with quick efficienc
y, and managing to hold conversations at the same time. Matt positioned himself as close as possible to the man he was watching, although it took a few piercing stares to convince people to move out of his way.

  Lili and Pippa were oblivious to the possible threat, just laughing and smiling and talking. Her laughter didn't do much to keep her profile low – although a low profile was near impossible to begin with, considering that gold dress she'd painted on.

  His fingers itched to peel it off, sliding it upward, one slow inch at a time, freeing the spicy scent of her, letting it rise from her soft, warm skin.

  Oh, yeah … Manny was dead-on; if ever there was a client to mess him up, it would be Lili.

  Jaw set, refocused, Matt moved closer to his target, pretended to trip, and bumped into him.

  "Hey, watch it," the man snapped, shoving Matt back.

  "Sorry. My fault."

  During the bump frisk, Matt detected no concealed weapons. The guy was probably just a drunk businessman hoping to score, but Matt took no chances. As with any bodyguard, distrust was second nature.

  The hot-to-trot businessman leaned forward, balanced on the edge of the bar stool, his gaze locked on Lili – and his position warned Matt, as clearly as words, that the guy was ready to make his move.

  By the time the businessman was off the stool, Matt already stood between him and Lili, senses on hyper-alert.

  "You again. What's your problem?" The businessman's eyes narrowed with annoyance, his words a little slurred. "Get lost."

  "The lady in the gold dress is not to be disturbed," Matt said, his voice calm and nonconfrontational. "You should sit back down, sir."

  "Who the fuck are you, her daddy?"

  "No, I'm her bodyguard." Matt moved closer, invading the man's space, forcing him back a step, and smelled the alcohol on his breath. "And I asked you nicely to sit back down."

  The guy was drunk. Either he'd back down or become aggressive, and Matt waited, watching for a signal as to which way this one would go. The businessman's eyes flared with fury a split second before he lunged at Matt.

  Anticipating it, Matt grabbed the man's arm, twisting it until he heard a startled grunt of pain. "I don't want any trouble, but I'll protect my client's privacy with force if necessary," he said quietly. "Don't make me have to do that. My advice to you is to forget the lady, and move on. This is a nice place. You don't want to cause a scene. You're just here to have a drink, have a good time."

  "That's right," the man panted, face pinched in discomfort. "A good time. Just a drink or two. Let me go!"

  "When I release your arm, sir, you'll move on to the other side of the bar and make no further attempt to engage my client."

  "Yes, yes!"

  Matt released him, ignoring the startled stares of those around him, the wary glances of the bartenders. He'd worked the Redhead before and knew the staff wouldn't interfere, but he didn't want to jeopardize his professional standing here. Force was a last resort. Always.

  The businessman hastily retreated, straightening his tie and smoothing back his hair as if nothing had happened. Matt turned. Lili was staring at him with a blank look, and her cat-eyed friend pressed back against her chair, as if to get as far away from him as possible.

  For a brief instant, intense regret hit him. Regret that Lili had to see that bit of ugliness … regret that she had to see him in action at all.

  A quick glance showed Manny standing with a deceptive casualness, but at Matt's curt nod, he sat back down.

  Matt made his way to Lili's table and leaned down. "It's okay. Nothing to worry about."

  "Did you hurt him?"

  Again, that hollow, sinking feeling of regret in his chest. "Just his pride."

  She nodded, blinking rapidly for a moment. "I have to go to the bathroom."

  "If Conan here will guard our table and fend off any more would-be invaders, I'll go with you," said Pippa in a biting tone. She stood, tall and willowy in her black dress, radiating disapproval as she moved in front of Lili.

  A sharp irritation lanced through him at the woman's protectiveness. Why did everybody think Lili needed to be coddled?

  "I'll escort my client to the restroom," Matt said, with an iciness that had more to do with his own irritation rather than mother-hen Pippa's disapproval.

  Pippa took a quick, sharp breath and sat down. "Okay. You do that. I'll wait here." As Lili stood, the woman added, "Remember what I said, Lil. This is the genuine article."

  As he led Lili away from the table, Matt tried to shake off his anger. He was what he was, and not ashamed of it, and it didn't matter that Pippa Dowling looked at him like he was some low-life street thug. Not that a woman like Pippa would know the first thing about street thugs.

  He did, though, and it was the reason he was so good at his job.

  The piano player launched into Jerry Lee Lewis's "Great Balls of Fire," and despite his grim mood, Matt couldn't help smiling as he watched Lili be-bop through the bathroom door.

  *

  Lili called it quits a little after midnight, and after Pippa departed in a taxi, Dal pulled up in the sleek black Town Car to whisk everybody back to the Drake. The effects of her three martinis were wearing off, although she still had a good buzz going. Sounds were muffled, colors appeared oddly bright – and Matt looked even more tasty than usual.

  She was sober enough not to giggle at the thought, if still fuzzy enough to wish she could purr and rub up against him in the backseat. She smiled, imagining the look on his face – and Dal and Manny's – if she did so.

  "Hey, Dal," she said over a crooning Sheryl Crow. "I understand you just got married."

  Dal met her eyes in the rearview mirror, and grinned. "Three months ago."

  "Congratulations." After a moment, she added, "You know, I feel a little guilty for taking you away from your new wife like this."

  "No problem. It's not like you planned to get into trouble," he said. "My wife, she's used to it. And I call when I'm off duty."

  "How about you, Manny? Is there a special lady in your life?"

  Lili ignored Matt's stare. She was being nosy, but she wanted to understand how a bodyguard's wife or girlfriend dealt with the absences and uncertainty of her man's profession. Tonight, it somehow seemed important to understand.

  Manny glanced back at her, and his teeth flashed whitely in the darkness. "A steady girlfriend, but nothing too serious. I'm not ready to settle down yet."

  She smiled, and silence settled over the car. She was very aware of Matt beside her, although he'd hardly exchanged a handful of words with her since they'd left the bar. She couldn't forget Pippa's warning – and it didn't help that she'd witnessed how quickly and effortlessly Matt had fended off that drunken businessman. She wasn't sure yet how she felt about it; part of her was grateful for his protection, but his controlled capacity for violence troubled her.

  She wondered if Dal's wife ever looked at him and thought: He could go out and kill someone today …or get killed himself.

  As if aware of her scrutiny, Matt turned toward her. For a moment their gazes met and held. This time, she looked away first.

  The alcohol had to be responsible for all these gloomy thoughts. And what did it matter, anyway? Matt Hawkins, and his equally capable team, hardly needed her to fuss or worry over them. It wasn't as if anybody had forced them into this line of business. They'd made a choice.

  Nor did it matter to her, because she certainly wasn't going to ask any of them out on a date.

  All right, so she was contemplating a little hanky-panky with Matt. A perfectly normal reaction. All those years of teaching and working, delaying starting a family, and now this tension, this brush with death and danger – how could she not physically respond to a good-looking man who was keeping her constant company, not to mention keeping her alive?

  Basic biological drives; that's all this was.

  Back at the Drake, she smiled at the guard by the elevator, bid goodnight to Manny, and walked into her suite.
Foremost in her mind was ridding her hair of the bar's smoky smell. Matt already had his briefcase out, settling in for the night's usual routine of work, so without a word she went into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower.

  She didn't bother drying her hair, letting it hang loose and damp. Barefoot, she padded out to the parlor, wearing the white terry robe over her blue satin and lace nightshirt. As she'd expected, Matt was bent over paperwork, his jacket tossed aside and tie loosened. He still wore the gun, but she was getting used to the sight of it. He looked up briefly, and nodded an acknowledgment.

  In silence, she wandered around the room, stopping to smell the fresh flowers, a hundred thoughts tumbling through her mind: the talk with Pippa, her lecture the next day, the frightened and angry look in the businessman's eyes when Matt twisted his arm behind his back.

  All his calm, cool professionalism hid something darker, volatile. She sensed it, glimpsed it in his eyes when he didn't know she was watching him, and it intrigued her. She couldn't stop imagining what it would be like to be with him, to break through that cool, careful reserve and find his hidden heat and passion.

  "You okay?"

  At Matt's question, Lili stopped and turned. "Sure. Why?"

  "You're orbiting the room again."

  "Oh." So she was; a bad habit, that pacing. "I have a lot on my mind. Am I bothering you?"

  He smiled, and it caused a little catch in her chest. "No more than usual."

  After a moment, she asked, "The man at the bar … why did you do that?"

  "It's what you're paying me for," he said mildly, his expression closed. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

  "I'm not used to violence like that. I didn't see why it was necessary. He wasn't dangerous, just drunk."

  "He might have been dangerous. To me, everybody is a potential threat."

  "That sounds paranoid, Matt."

  "It is." His tone was terse. "But that's part of being a bodyguard."

  What kind of life was that where paranoia was expected? She wanted to ask him why he did it, but asked instead, "The man who tried to break into my room … do you think he'll try to get to me again?"

  For a long moment, he held her gaze, as if deciding whether to answer or not. Finally, he said, "It's likely."