She had just finished a quick lunch, and was almost done with the last photo album.
A knock came at her door. “Come in,” she called.
Mrs. Stroud poked her head inside. “Letter for you, miss.”
“Thank you.” Alexa accepted it and closed the door after the housekeeper. She turned it over in her hand. Who knew her address in London?
No one. She hadn’t given it to anyone, since she would only be here one week. The envelope showed no return address.
With curiosity, Alexa opened it. A photo of Colin and herself standing beside a limousine confronted her, pasted on a ruled sheet of paper. The photo had been cut from a tabloid, if the caption, “Colin’s American beauty” was any indication. Below the photo, words cut from newsprint were pasted unevenly across the page. The message screamed larger than the tiny words themselves.
Die.
Colin isn’t yours.
Go home, Alexa Kaplan.
Alexa dropped the paper as if it were stained with acid.
The flimsy sheet fluttered in a soft, sweeping nose dive to the floor. How could something so insubstantial turn her world upside down? The black hatred had jumped at her from the page. A living, corrosive force.
What should she do with it?
Show Colin. Surely he would know what to do. Didn’t stars deal with crazed stalkers all the time? She needed his experience, and his comfort, too.
Alexa had watched enough detective shows to know that she shouldn’t touch the note again. She might smudge the sender’s prints. If he’d left any. She grabbed a tissue and snared the note, but didn’t worry about taking care with the envelope. The entire postal service had likely handled it, so any prints would be useless. She fairly flew downstairs to Colin’s study.
The door stood half open, so she knocked and poked her head inside. It was dark. No Colin. Wasn’t he ever home?
Alexa felt even more distraught. She wanted to tell someone about the note now. Maybe she should leave Colin a message, so he could contact her when he got back.
Good idea. She hurried to his broad wooden desk. The only light in the room filtered in through the partially drawn tapestry drapes. She found pencil and paper and quickly scribbled a note, all the while feeling uncomfortable to be in his private office, uninvited.
There. She placed it in the middle of his desk. A bright light flashed on overhead. Alexa gasped, hand flying to her mouth, tissue wrapped note and all.
Jamison advanced into the room. “What are you doing in here?”
Alexa recovered her breath, but her heart still pounded. Guilt was part of it. She crossed her arms, tucking the note out of sight. “What does it look like? I need to see Colin.”
Jamison strolled closer, his movements controlled and menacing. In full bodyguard mode, Alexa realized—and she was the threat.
But what about the threat to her? Protectively, she folded the note more tightly and slipped it between her arm and torso. She did the same with the envelope, on the other side. “I need to see Colin,” she repeated.
The bodyguard had closed within three feet of her now, and her skin prickled. His gaze flickered to her crossed arms. “Give it to me.”
“Excuse me?” She pretended ignorance.
The black eyes looked like obsidian. “Now.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Now it is. You’re trespassing.”
Alexa felt frustrated, and tears hovered alarmingly near the surface. Her fear of the note, coupled with the antagonistic aggression of the bodyguard, made her want to run and hide. But of course, she did neither. She lifted her chin. “Get Colin. I’ll give it to him.”
“Doesn’t work that way, princess.” In one swift movement, his hand shot out and slipped under her arm, which was pressed close to her side. His fingers felt hard and businesslike as he plucked the note from her grasp.
She gasped and jerked back. “How dare you touch me!” Tears burned in earnest, then, at the presumptuous violation.
“I warned you, princess.” How Alexa hated that caustic nickname! The bodyguard said, “What is this? A love note?” Contempt hardened his eyes.
“Not hardly! And keep your prints off it,” she gritted.
With care, Jamison unfolded the note and swiftly scanned it. No expression registered on his face, but he read it again. “Where did you get this?” The black eyes remained just as hard, just as suspicious.
“I didn’t cut and paste it, if that’s what you’re thinking. It came in the mail today.”
“Where’s the envelope?”
Unwillingly, Alexa extended it to the bodyguard. He scanned both sides.
“Satisfied?” Alexa wanted to know. “I thought Colin could help me. Has he dealt with this before?”
“He gets frequent threats.”
“Do his guests?”
“No.”
“So now what do I do?” she demanded.
“Nothing. I’ll talk to Colin.” Jamison turned away. “Don’t leave the house.”
“I’m under house arrest?” Alexa could not believe her ears. “I don’t think so. I’m going into London this afternoon.”
“Now you’re not.” He disappeared through the door.
Alexa’s mouth gaped, and then snapped shut. The nerve of that smug, obnoxious man! And she suspected he had extracted some sort of perverse delight in telling her what to do, too.
As if she would obey him.
Her fear of the note was now swamped by rebellious ire at the highhanded bodyguard. She wasn’t a child. And he certainly had no authority over her. And she had worked so hard this morning so she could go out today. Jamison Jethro Constanzo would not stop her. After all, she had shopping to do.
Upstairs, Alexa turned off the computer and prepared for her outing. She called a black cab to meet her at the entrance gate. A little fear returned when she thought about the note, but she told herself to ignore it. It was only a note. Weren’t threatening note writers—and crank callers—mostly gutless cowards? They lusted for the power to intimidate and frighten others, but did so from a safe distance; hidden behind unknown return addresses and blocked caller ids.
No one would come after her. And she refused to be intimidated by a malicious person, anyway. When would she ever return to London? At the end of the tour she would return for a few days, but who knew if the book would be finished by then, or if she would have a chance to shop?
Mind made up, Alexa hurried downstairs and out the front door. Happily, Jamison was nowhere to be seen. The guard let her out the front gate with a cheery smile and a wave, even. Pleased, Alexa climbed into the cab and didn’t look back.
Alexa thoroughly enjoyed her afternoon, and was glad the overcast clouds held back their rain. She found a Paddington bear for Timmy and a princess doll for Annie while she shopped in Selfridges and the shopping district around it. Good thing she had brought the extra suitcase. Alexa even found two magnets for her refrigerator back home. One of London Bridge—which she still hadn’t seen yet—and one of Buckingham Palace.
The afternoon was an unqualified success. Only one moment of alarm came when she hurried along the wide, busy sidewalk, hugging the edge, near the boulevard. She had spied a café and wanted to have high tea there, like the proper English did.
A swell of people going in the opposite direction pushed into her, and then Alexa felt a hard shove at her shoulder. She teetered precariously on her high heels, and then pitched into the street, right in the path of an oncoming lorry.
Terror surged, and the next moment passed in slow motion. Not sure how she managed it, Alexa landed on her toe and twisted, lunging back toward the sidewalk. She landed on her knees, safely, just as the truck roared by.
Shaking, she wobbled upright. No one paid any attention to her. She had dropped the bags, and now searched for them. One had been kicked near a post and she found the other in the street. Sadly, Paddington’s bag had tire tracks over it, and the bear’s legs looked unnaturally fla
t. Added to all that, she spotted two huge runs in her nylons, and her knees looked black with grime. Still, it could have been worse.
All the same, Alexa trembled and her teeth chattered as she crossed the street to the café. The feeling of being out of control in that one moment—vulnerable and unable to protect herself—had terrified her. She had felt like an adolescent again, unable to control her world as it had careened toward disaster.
Alexa had tea, with paper thin sandwiches and fairy cakes, but found herself still trembling during the meal. She wanted to return to Colin’s—to the comfort of somewhere familiar and safe.
Soon after the quick tea, a taxi dropped her off in front of Colin’s gate. Gathering her battered bags together, Alexa tapped on the guard’s door.
It was a different guard. He peered at her, his eyebrows aloof. “Yes, miss?”
“I’m Alexa Kaplan. I’m staying here as Colin’s guest.”
“Very good, miss. I’ll call the house.”
After a lengthy phone conference, the gate opened. With relief, Alexa hurried to the front door.
Unfortunately, the first person she saw inside was Jamison. No doubt he had been alerted to her return by the gate security guard.
“Enjoy your afternoon?” His deep, melodious Italian voice was deceptively mild, for it was hard to miss the black thundercloud of his brow.
Alexa chose to ignore it. “Why, yes. How nice of you to ask.”
“Come with me.”
Alexa lifted the dirty shopping bags. “Thanks. But I think I’ll run these upstairs, first.”
Jamison stared at them and then, disconcertingly, at her knees, bared by the gigantic rips in her nylons. “What happened to you?”
“I tripped off the sidewalk,” she said airily.
He looked down further. “I see your heels survived.”
“Disappointed?”
The black gaze returned to her face. “Come with me.”
“I need to change.” Alexa headed for the stairs.
“Now.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the controlled force behind that single word made Alexa pause.
“Make it easy on yourself, Alexa. Swallow your pride and come with me.”
“Why?” she demanded.
“Colin wants to see you.”
“Well, okay then.” Alexa had no problem coming if Colin wanted to see her—too bad about her filthy nylons, though. But everything within her rebelled at obeying the bodyguard. He knew this. She could tell it by his flashing dark eyes and the tension radiating from his body.
She sailed by him. “Colin’s study?” she inquired over her shoulder.
The bodyguard did not reply. Instead, a hard hand on her elbow forced her to stop. Affronted, she glared at him. “Get your hand off me.”
“You were lucky today, princess,” he said in a low voice. “You think that note was a joke?”
“No.” She wrenched her arm free. “But I also know I won’t let some sicko—or a mini Mussolini—dictate my life.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You are acting like a child, Alexa. Today you were easy prey for a kidnapper…or a killer.” The Italian accent suddenly seemed more pronounced and threatening. Like a character from the Godfather.
Alexa tried to ignore the chill that raced over her skin. “The note was a hoax.”
“Really? You said you tripped today. Did you? Or were you pushed?”
Unexpected fear sliced through her. The incident flashed back through her mind. “It was crowded. Someone accidentally knocked me into the street.” She looked away, biting her lip, remembering the horror of the moment. “In front of a truck,” she added in a thin voice.
He drew in a harsh breath.
“It was an accident,” she insisted.
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Doesn’t Colin get these notes all of the time? How often does someone actually try to attack him?”
“More often than you’d think. He got a note like yours today.”
“He did?” Another chill went through her. “What did it say?”
He hesitated, as if weighing the wisdom of sharing that particular piece of information with her. “To send you home.”
“That would please you, wouldn’t it?” she accused. But inside, she was frightened and upset. What if Colin did send her home? Then again, maybe he should, if her presence endangered him. But what about the book?
Jamison said harshly, “If you had been killed today, it would have eaten Colin up. He’d feel responsible, because you’re under his protection.”
Alexa glanced at Colin’s closed study door.
“Look at me,” Jamison urged, and reluctantly, she did so. “Your rebellious shot at me could have cost you your life. Was the shopping worth it?”
Alexa glared, trying to ignore the prickles of guilt mixing with the fear. “It wasn’t about you,” she informed him. Liar, she told herself. This man got under her skin like a splinter.
“No?” He sounded like he didn’t believe her. “You’re a grown woman, Alexa. Next time you want to run off like a child, use your common sense.”
His words burned, mostly because they were true. Maybe she had acted like a child, defiantly running off like that. However, she would never admit that to the bodyguard. He was entirely too full of himself. And on top of that, why was she letting his take on the accident scare her? Who was he to say the incident in London had been an attack? How could he possibly know? In fact, the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it seemed.
She sent him a cool glance. “Is Colin in his study?”
“Yes.”
His black, censorious gaze held hers, making her temper surge. However, she merely said, “Thank you,” and stalked with as much pride as possible to Colin’s door, mangled shopping bags swinging.
“Come in,” Colin answered to her knock.
Unfortunately, Jamison followed her inside.
Colin sat at his desk, but his head snapped up when he saw her. His worried frown cleared. “Alexa!” He stood and greeted her with outstretched hands. Feeling embarrassed, she dropped the bags and squeezed his hands in return.
“I’m sorry I worried you,” she said. “I guess I didn’t take the threat seriously enough.”
“I’m relieved you’re all right.”
“I told her about the threat you received,” Jamison said.
Colin turned his attention to Alexa. “So you understand I’m taking both threats seriously.”
“Tell him what happened in the city,” Jamison interfered again.
“Nothing happened.” Alexa frowned, but refused to look at the bodyguard. “It was crowded and someone pushed me, that’s all.”
“Into the street, in front of a truck,” Jamison finished.
“Alexa.” Colin’s blue eyes darkened with concern.
“It was an accident, not an attack.”
Colin shook his head. “All the same, I need to take protective measures.”
Concern arose. “Do you want me to go home?”
“No, of course not. But I am worried about you, so I’m going to assign Jamison as your bodyguard.”
Jamison. Her bodyguard? Alexa’s mouth opened in horror.
Jamison watched her, his face impassive, all the while standing in his usual bodyguard stance; his shoulders straight, black clad legs apart, and hands clasped in front of his compact body.
“No,” she breathed.
“Jamison is the best.” Colin frowned, seeming to misunderstand. “You’ll be safe with him. Here in London you’re safe in my house, but if you go out, Jamison will need to go with you.”
“But…” Alexa wanted to ask why Mart couldn’t be assigned to her, and then realized how ungrateful that would sound. Colin was being chivalrous, and trying to protect her. “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “But I’m sure I won’t require his services.”
“Are you sure? We’re leaving Monday, so tomorrow is our last day here.”
“Tomorrow’s Sunday
?” Alexa had momentarily lost track of time. “I did want to go to church.” Surely Jamison wouldn’t want to accompany her. The very thought made her want to smile.
Colin smiled. “Jamison?”
The bodyguard growled, “You can come to my church.”
Taken aback, Alexa looked from Jamison to Colin. Jamison attended church? Then again, maybe he realized he needed forgiveness for his black soul. Who was she to stand in the way of his eternal salvation?
“Fine,” she said. “What time?”
“Meet me downstairs at ten o’clock.”
“It’s a date,” she said cheekily, and to her delight, the bodyguard stiffened. Probably repulsed, she decided with satisfaction. She turned to Colin. “Thank you for taking care of me. By the way, I finished with all of the photo albums this morning. Are we still on for tomorrow? I’ve got lots of questions for you.”
“Absolutely. I’ve been looking forward to our lunch.” The blue eyes sparkled at her, and she twinkled back.
“Perfect,” she said.
The next morning the trip to church was accomplished in silence, which was just fine with Alexa. After the pastor greeted Alexa, he shook Jamison’s hand and called him by name, which surprised her. As did the smile the bodyguard gave him. It certainly lightened his features! But it settled back into unfriendly lines when he looked at her.
“Up there,” he said.
Alexa slid into a pew, and Jamison slid in beside her. However, a good three feet separated them. Alexa didn’t know whether to be pleased or annoyed. Definitely pleased, she decided.
She felt it was up to her to be the bigger person and try to be civil. It was high time, anyway. God couldn’t be too pleased with her recent behavior. “It’s beautiful in here,” she commented. “I love the stained glass windows.”
“Huh,” he grunted.
Alexa frowned at him as he continued to read the bulletin, apparently intent on ignoring her. “Why aren’t you speaking to me today?”
Her Reluctant Bodyguard Page 6