Texas Bodyguard

by Jean Brashear

  “Cattle?”

  “More often goats. This land is so rocky, it’s hard to grow good crops, and you’d go bankrupt bringing in hay for cattle. Goats can fend for themselves better. They’ll even eat trees, if need be. If you have goats, you don’t need a lawnmower.”

  “Goats are cute.”

  “See them much in LaLaLand?”

  She looked at him askance. “Have you ever actually been to California?”

  “Nope. Don’t need to.” He said it just to get a rise out of her.

  It worked. “Excuse me? You can’t just say something like that.”

  “Sure I can. Land of fruits and nuts. Granola country. The Left Coast—home of every crackpot in America.”

  “Seriously? You can spout drivel like—” Her head whipped toward his, and he could just imagine the sparks in those turquoise eyes currently concealed by sunglasses. Then she shook her head. “Of course you’re not serious. What was I thinking?”

  “I can be serious,” he protested. She had no idea.

  “Uh-huh.” She tipped down the darkened lenses, her luscious cherry-red lips curving at the corners. “Be sure to alert me when that happens. I wouldn’t want to miss it.”

  “Deal. But let’s just remember who bought hummus and fruit and junk.”

  “How does a plowboy know about hummus?”

  “Hey, I read.” He grimaced. “Looks nasty, though.” Actually, he liked all kinds of food, including hummus—but he wasn’t about to tell her so.

  “If you’re nice, I’ll share a taste, and then you’ll be hogging the container.”

  “Nope. Got my bologna sandwich, so I’m good.” She hadn’t actually seen what he’d packed.

  “If you honestly eat as badly as it seems, it’s a miracle you don’t weigh three hundred pounds. My trainer would expire from fright.”

  “You have a trainer?”

  “It’s Hollywood, Sean. The script girl has a trainer.”

  “I guess it’s sort of your business to stay in shape.”

  “You have no idea. Fortunately, I like exercise—well, until Randy gets too brutal. It’s the not eating that kills me. I do love food.” She glanced over. “Ergo the healthy junk, as you call it. I’ve eaten much too well since I got here and had far too little exercise, mostly only my yoga.”

  He looked her over. “Looks pretty prime to me. Not to be a chauvinist, of course.”

  “The camera adds ten pounds.”

  “Do all those women really think having a teenage boy’s figure with boobs is attractive? Me, I think the fashion world is run by gay guys, and their idea of beauty is for women to look just like them.”

  “That’s terrible,” she spluttered. But her shoulders were shaking with laughter.

  “Am I right? You bet I am. A woman looks like a woman, and people tell her she’s fat. Then folks wonder why teenage girls are bulimic and such. Well, excuse me, but a man wants his woman to have curves. Hips he can put his hands on. Softness, not a body that feels like his own.” He glanced over. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to rant, but if your trainer is selling you that hard body crap, you need to ditch him. Real men don’t like those stick figures with fake boobs.”

  Her head was cocked as she studied him. “I guess you can be serious.”

  “Don’t get me started. In my line of work, I see what happens when people treat others like they’re not human. There’s too damn much me, me, me attitude these days, folks being so callous about others, and it sure seems like your business is one of the worst. Everything’s about what’s hot right this second, and you see good people chewed up and spit out as though they don’t have feelings. Am I right?”

  She removed her sunglasses. Blinked.

  “Sorry. I get wound up. I just think it’s a crime, all this emphasis on the superficial. That whole attitude of use them and discard them, that sense of survival of the fittest and dog-eat-dog competition…I’ve seen what happens when human beings treat others as commodities. When they load them in trailers with no food or water and some of them—”

  He exhaled. “I’m sorry. Not sure where that came from.”

  Except he did.

  And he couldn’t afford to let down his guard like that.

  “Don’t apologize. I can’t imagine how you do what you do—I mean, back when you were on active duty.” She shook her head. “You see the worst of mankind, don’t you?”

  Yeah. He shrugged. “You just…you handle it.” Or you burn out.

  “I never thought about how that principle of cynicism and depersonalization spins out from the world I operate in, but you’re right. I live in the most artificial atmosphere imaginable, yet most people have bought into the party line. Everything is about the surface and almost nothing is about the person you are inside.” She stared ahead, elbow on the window frame, head resting on her fist. “It’s part of why I ran away to Texas. Things seem so important out there that really aren’t.” She glanced at him. “Especially compared to what you’ve seen. I feel foolish, ever worrying for a second about crazed fans or tabloid rumors.”

  “Don’t. It’s the world you have to operate in.”

  “It’s a small and incestuous world.”

  “It has impact, though, never doubt it. You reach a lot of people.”

  “Even with my little comedies?”

  He snorted. “Not so little.” Man, he’d sure derailed their easy mood. “Okay, I’ll just say one more thing, then enough of the philosophizing. My point is that there’s nothing wrong with a real woman’s body and a real woman’s face. It’s incredibly self-serving and manipulative to make you feel otherwise. There’s more to you than your appearance, and age won’t change that. My grandmother is more beautiful than ever, and she’s eighty-five, but the beauty comes from who she is.”

  Her brows rose, and her smile was brilliant. “I wish you called the shots out there. I will pay a price for it soon, but for your information, no one’s coming near me with a knife or a needle. That very well may mean the end of my career, especially in the genre where I’ve been pigeon-holed. Once you’re not pretty, you can still do comedy, but you’re reduced to slapstick, to being a caricature. Still, I hope that when that day comes, I’ll retain at least a little scrap of my upbringing, enough to prevent me from stooping to cosmetic surgery.”

  “You’re smart and talented—you can be whatever you want. Haven’t you already proven that to yourself?”

  She bit her lip. “I don’t think you understand the essential insecurity that’s at the core of every actor. If we were good at being ourselves, we wouldn’t need to escape into roles.” Her smile at him was fond. “If you could bottle that confidence of yours, you’d make a killing in my world. Of course, then there would be no movies made because we’d all be too steady and secure.”

  She laughed, and he tried to laugh with her. Would she be laughing if she knew who he really was?

  “Nearly there.” He pointed at a sign and turned off into the parking area. “Cool. No one here but us.” He parked his truck and cut off the engine. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “Ready.”

  Sean had waved her onto the path in front of him, but she’d demurred, preferring to follow him, since she was in unfamiliar territory. The preserve they’d run in yesterday had seemed remote and peaceful compared to her life in L.A., but this…the wind seemed exceedingly loud until she realized that was simply because nothing else interfered.

  Though she’d already spent two weeks unwinding, she could literally feel her muscles unknotting, her mind clearing…opening to new possibilities and unfamiliar sensations.

  And to his credit, other than glancing back now and again to be sure she was with him, Sean didn’t try to fill the silence.

  She’d been astonishingly wrong about him in her first impression. He was charming and handsome, yes, but he kept surprising her with depths she didn’t expect.

  He was funny and kind. He was confident enough to be generous—he didn’t need to build himself u
p by bringing anyone else down. His silence now was another aspect of his confidence. Secure in himself, he didn’t need to draw attention.

  And he was wiser than she would ever have imagined. The vehemence over how girls and women were brainwashed to view their bodies…none of that was feigned. How would any woman hear him speak of his grandmother’s beauty and not be moved?

  Plus she liked that he acknowledged her own looks as simple fact without being smarmy or manipulative, without making her feel either hunted or begrimed. It’s nice that you’re beautiful, he seemed to say, but tell me who you are.

  She could be in real trouble with this one, oh yes, she could. He had all the earmarks of The One.

  Don’t get ahead of yourself.

  He halted, and she’d been so lost in her thoughts she nearly ran into him. He stepped aside to show her the view.

  “Oh,” she said reverently. “Oh, my.”

  “Yeah,” was all he said.

  The trail wended its way into an honest-to-goodness grotto. The azure pool lay before them, fed by a waterfall spilling from the land above. Behind the waterfall, a shallow cave, cool and shady. Moss and greenery draped over limestone, the air still and cool in the summery day. Across from the waterfall, a jumble of huge rocks made a platform perfect for sunning or diving into the cool water below.

  Sean remained still at her side, allowing her space and time to absorb. To simply be.

  At last she blinked and resurfaced. “I would almost say we could go now. I feel restored already.”

  A quick slash of even white teeth. “There’s more where that came from.”

  She inhaled, a deeper breath than she’d taken in forever. “I am so there.”

  “I hear you. I found this place when I first moved to the area, and it still helps me clear my head. I’ve never brought anyone here with me before.” He extended a hand. “Come with me.”

  She placed her hand in his. The warmth of his palm, the firm yet gentle clasp of his bigger hand around hers made something inside her feel cosseted. Safe.

  Somehow possessing an instinct for what she needed, he led the way behind the waterfall, coming to a stop half in and half out of the sunshine, where both shade and sun were accessible.

  Giving her options. Being thoughtful. Very much like his basic nature, she was beginning to understand. That he’d share his refuge with her really touched her.

  “This look okay?” he asked.

  “It’s amazing.” She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “What a great idea.”

  “Even with bologna on white bread?” he teased.

  “You remind me of my brothers.”

  “You could have talked all day without saying that.”

  She grinned. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yeah.” He spread the blanket he’d brought along. “Milady…” He gestured with a sweep of his hand. “Your banquet awaits.”

  She settled on the blanket. “I’m not really hungry yet, but you go ahead.”

  He sank down beside her. “I’m fine.” He stretched long, muscled legs, his cargo shorts revealing golden skin dusted with hair a few shades darker than on his head. “Water looks inviting.”

  “Is swimming allowed?”

  “Most of the time, except after heavy rains. They put up a sign, or there’s a ranger to keep people out. Why? You tempted?” He waggled his eyebrows. “You bring your swimsuit, Hollywood?”

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  His eyes went hot. “That’s wicked cruel. My guess is that you’re wearing it, and—” He slapped one hand dramatically to his chest. “That is not an image to make a man rest easy. Have mercy, darlin’.”

  She rolled her eyes. He might be a better man than she’d originally given him credit for, but he hadn’t forgotten how to flirt. “What about you? I don’t see swim trunks anywhere.”

  “I’ll show you mine if you’ll show me yours.” He mimed a villainous twist of an imaginary mustache, eyebrows raised.

  She chuckled. “Maybe later.”

  They sat in companionable silence as the waterfall provided background music. After a few moments, Annabelle laid back and simply let the peace soak in. She must have dozed for a few minutes because she didn’t realize he’d moved until she heard the splash.

  She opened her eyes but didn’t sit up.

  Oh, my. She watched as Sean swam quietly across the pool and lifted himself out on the opposite bank, muscle rippling across his back. Water sluiced off his broad shoulders, trailing down to lean hips. His soaking wet cargo shorts clung, outlining one very fine behind.

  He turned and prepared to dive back in, flicking a glance in her direction. Quickly she squeezed her eyes shut, feeling as though she’d violated his privacy. She kept them closed as she heard him slice through the water on his return.

  Still she didn’t look. Not, at least, until he moved close enough to drip on her. The cold water on her heated skin popped her eyes open, and she squealed.

  “Faker.” He roared with laughter. “And here I thought you were an accomplished actress.” Before she could dodge, he’d scooped her up in his arms and wheeled toward the pool.

  “Oh no, you don’t—”

  “Come on, Hollywood, live a little.” He climbed up on the rock, carrying her as easily as if she weighed nothing.

  “Sean…”

  “Water feels great.” He stepped forward, then hesitated. “You don’t have your phone in your pocket or anything, right?”

  “What if I do?”

  He studied her for a second, then that beautiful mouth curved. “Don’t gamble with a gambler, sugar.”

  And he leaped.

  She didn’t have time to scream before they went under. She tightened her arms around his neck as, with a powerful kick, he brought them back to the surface.

  And grinned unrepentantly.

  They began to sink, but she wasn’t worried about drowning because she’d already seen that he was a strong swimmer.

  So was she.

  With a powerful kick, he lifted them both, swam with her to the rock ledge. His flesh was warm against the cool silk of the water. She didn’t break away, instead letting herself revel in the feel of his body against hers.

  Time rocked to a halt. The moment spun out. She had a sense of a threshold reached, a choice to be made. She could pull away, reduce the moment to a harmless flirtation. Avoid any possible risk of choosing wrong again.

  Or she could see what happened next. Right here before her was not only a very sexy man, but one she was increasingly sure had a good heart. If she never took another chance on a relationship, however brief, she would never know if her past problems were due to her choices in men…or some fatal flaw in herself, something that rendered her unlovable and doomed to never make her dream happen.

  She hadn’t gotten to this point in her career by running away from risk.

  Keeping her eyes locked to his, she slid her arms up his chest. Their legs tangled together. The water was cool, but not enough to chill his body’s powerful response. Before she lost her nerve, she pressed her mouth to his, sliding her tongue slowly over the seam.

  A small shudder ran through him.

  With a rush, he gathered her in, seizing her in a torrid kiss, the taste of him bold and spicy and dizzying.

  She tossed any remnant of caution to the wind, grazing her mouth across his jaw and down, nipping at his throat.

  “Sweet Mother MacCree—” His voice dropped to a near-growl, and he proceeded to deal out his own torture. One hand slid beneath her shirt, fingers skating over her belly in teasing circles.

  She arched to bring him closer. Her legs parted and wrapped around his waist.

  “Annabelle…” His voice was a harsh whisper as she rubbed against him with painful slowness, tormenting herself as much as him.

  Then they heard voices.

  “Oh, hell.” Sean lifted his head and swore colorfully.

  “Amen.” Her sigh was heartfelt. She looked over hi
s shoulder. “I don’t see anyone yet.”

  “It won’t be long.” He rested his forehead against hers and sighed. “Come on, sweet lips. I need to get you out of here before somebody recognizes you.” He pressed one last, quick kiss to her mouth, then lifted her onto the bank, following her with a powerful thrust of his muscled arms.

  They began gathering their things.

  “I still don’t know if you have on a swimsuit under there,” he whispered, as voices approached.

  She grinned and faked a leer. “Find us another picnic spot, and maybe I’ll show you.” She was surprised to feel mischievous, not terrified of exposure.

  “Stop tormenting me, woman. I don’t know if I can stand up straight as it is.” He slid the tote bag with their food over his shoulder, then balled up the blanket and held it against him, walking in an exaggerated hunch.

  Annabelle laughed. “Whine, whine, whine.” She smacked him on the behind and went around him.

  He chuckled. “Don’t think you won’t pay for that.”

  She flashed a smile over her shoulder. “You have to catch me first.” She ran, barely stifling a foolish, girly squeal as she heard him catching up.

  He tossed the blanket at her so fast she automatically grabbed it, then he scooped her up in his arms before she could blink.

  “Sean!”

  “Hide your face in my shoulder. Someone’s coming.”

  She squealed again, and he threw part of the blanket over her head. She felt his chest vibrate with his laughter.

  Until, that is, she began to nibble her way up his chest.

  Then all she heard was a barely-suppressed groan.

  Along with a few muttered promises about what would happen when they were again alone.

  Chapter Nine

  Martin went up the stairs to his office, right next door to Sage’s. They shared a connecting door, though each had an entrance from the hallway. Both offices were heavily soundproofed because they overlooked the dance floors. Though he liked most of the music the club played, hearing it night after night could get to be a bit much. As it was, the heavy bass beat still vibrated their office floors, but that was part of the deal. A low, thumping base was an intimate part of the sexual dance that was the reason places like Danger Zone existed.