Billionaire Bodyguard (11 page)

At least she’d have her things back. She may not have much to call her own, but what little she possessed meant everything to her. Like the small snow globe she’d begged her father to buy her when she was thirteen—a picturesque scene from the Phantom of the Opera. Their family had lived like kings that year. Her parents had
“condescended” to perform in an American play, though set in France. They’d
taken the stage at sold-out shows month after month, money poured in, and the three of them had been happy. Happier than she’d ever remembered.

The opposition between darkness and light, love and obsession, stalker and hero had blurred for her that year. She’d nurtured an infatuation for the gorgeous dark-haired actor playing the Phantom. Her first crush, first awakening to desire. She hadn’t known how to deal with all those teenage hormones bouncing around inside her. But she’d related to Christine, the protagonist of the musical. Allison had always imagined a secret admirer putting her unnoticed talent and brilliance above all else. She wanted
to be the object of the Phantom’s passion. But that came with a price. As it had with Trevor during the last years of their marriage.

In the beginning, she’d thought Trevor’s attentiveness and possessiveness had been the ultimate expression of devotion. He quickly built his world around her, but she learned fast that being put on a pedestal was a lonely, frightening place. That kind of gap created false expectations. She couldn’t meet him in the middle without falling from her perch. The more time passed, the more Trevor saw her as a person, not the
perfect object he’d wanted. The further she fell, the meaner Trevor became. As though she’d deliberately disappointed him at every turn.

She blinked to focus on the winding road before her. Her gut clenched at the memories. Her face flushed, and she realized her car had decided to crank into sauna mode. Her car’s heating system had no in between, it was arctic cold or equator hot. She notched the heat one space to the left and shivered. She couldn’t win.

The difference reminded her of the heat in southern Italy versus the wintry scene portrayed in the snow globe she’d begged her father for during that long-ago Phantom tour.

“That’s silly,” he’d chided with distaste. “We don’t spend money on frivolous trinkets.”

“Please, Papa. Please?”

His indulgent side finally gave in to her. “You better take care of this,” he’d warned as he paid for the item and handed it to her. “I don’t want to trip over it in our dressing room and break an ankle before tomorrow night’s show.”

“I will. I promise.” Cradling the gift, her eyes had feasted on the majestic frozen-in-time scene amidst the white confetti. The blood-red rose nearly glowed against the black background, as pretend snowflakes swirled. It was the rose the Phantom had intended to give Christine at her ultimate performance, but then dropped on the rooftop when he discovered the woman he thought he possessed had fallen for another man. From there, the epic emotional battle ensued. She shivered again.

Soon she would have the gift from her father back. Although, she still wasn’t sure whether Logan would turn out to be the heroic viscount Raoul or, like Trevor, the Phantom.

Streetlights became more obscure. Snow began to fall. She slowed her car. She was definitely out in the suburbs—the
rich
suburbs.

Every half-mile offered up a new house of galactic proportions. Other driveways led back into the woods, some gated, leaving the imagination to wonder what splendors lay hidden there.

Hitting the break, she paused before a driveway exactly like the three before it, with a black gate and pavement that disappeared into the wooded lot. The gate stood open, beckoning her. She blinked, checking the address. Gold-plated numerals on one of two stone pillars read 12957. This was it. She gulped and steered into the entrance.

Thank goodness for the lights lining the pavement. Without them she’d get lost back here. As she followed the dips and turns, she caught sight of a colossal house. It looked like an Aspen ski resort. Stone and wood came together in elegant construction imparting an aged feel despite the huge modern windows. She counted six chimneys sprouting from the roofline. Yellow light poured out through tall windows, illuminating the forest and dormant landscaping around the house.

She caught a gasp. “He lives in a castle.”

Why am I surprised?

Nervous, she pulled her car under the covered portico on the right. Snowflakes caught the glow
of exterior sconces reminiscent of horse-and-carriage gas lights. The tiny flakes drifted around her like glitter, lending a fantastical feel to the scene.

I am so far out of my league
.

She felt painfully displaced, like she needed permission to tread the flagstone path leading to the front entrance.

Two enormous windows flanked the front door. Through them she saw lights blinking on his cinder-block-sized Stone Security Elite System, alerting him to her arrival. Her heartbeat calmed a little. His home might be the most impenetrable fortress she could find. In spite of all the windows. Any thief or intruder would see evidence of his security system and run for the hills. Or so she hoped.

As she walked up the wide stone steps, she stood before his doorbell and paused. This was too much to take in all at once.

Suddenly,
Logan emerged from an interior hallway. Her pulse kicked up again.

A glass of red wine cradled in one hand, he moved toward the door with confident strides. He wore his striped work shirt un-tucked, sleeves rolled back on his forearms. Well-fitted jeans clasped muscular thighs and bunched slightly at his feet. Her gaze lingered there.

The intimacy of seeing his bare feet reminded her of the night they spent together. She knew every taut, tanned muscle under his clothes. Her lips tingled, remembering how brazen she’d been, running her tongue down the grooves of his six-pack abs, and later molding her hands around his spectacular biceps that strained as he’d drove deep inside her.

A hot breath escaped her and clouded in her face. Pulling herself back to cold reality, she blamed pregnancy hormones for the primal pull of attraction that made him irresistible, the ultimate masculine provider. She blushed.
We don’t live in the ice ages. I don’t need a man to take care of my basic needs
. Her body had a different opinion.

Logan d swung open his door. His dazzling smile greeted her with potent impact. “Perfect timing.”

Several snarky comments came to mind, but she couldn’t push them past her lips. “For what?”

Then her mind went numb, all attention focused on the warm, delicious scents wafting from inside. Her stomach grumbled loudly in the silence of falling snow.

He tugged her inside. “I promised you dinner. It’ll be ready soon. But first, the tour.”

She sent him a questioning look. “I want you to know the layout of my place so you can go where you want, as you please. I want you to be comfortable here. With me.”

Words escaped her as he set his wine down on the glass-top table in the foyer, unzipped her coat and slid it down her arms. A slow undressing that sent tingles across her shoulders. He hung her coat in the entryway closet, set her purse on the table, picked up his glass and motioned toward the kitchen.
“I have a plate of hors d’oeuvres to hold us over. Half-an-hour until the chicken’s done, fifteen minutes for the steaks to broil.”

At the promise of food, she followed at his heels. “Thank you. I’m starved.”

“I thought you might be.” She walked into his gourmet kitchen of glass tile and stainless-steel everything. “Had to make sure it wasn’t caviar or sushi or steak tartare, my usual go-to appetizers. I read that the bacteria in raw food can be dangerous for pregnant women.”

It was?
She cringed, realizing how much she didn’t know about being pregnant.
Thank goodness one of them had a clue. For the first time, she acknowledged how much easier it was with a partner, someone she could count on, going through this new and exciting and terrifying experience alongside her. A warm rush of gratitude filled her heart. “I appreciate that.”

The appetizer tray on his granite countertop looked like a work of art. Creamy dip nestled in the center of a huge saucer ringed with colorful vegetables and rolled cold-cuts.

“This looks amazing.” Without waiting for an invitation like a polite person, she dove into the delectable tray.

He ran a hand through his hair, leaving him with a rumpled sexy look. “I can’t take credit for that. I picked up the tray from a caterer.”

“Is
the dinner that smells so good take-out?”

“Nope.”

“No caterer or personal chef?”

“All me, sunshine.” He grinned. “Believe it or not, a guy gets sick of pizza and chicken wings. That’s when he learns how to make the good stuff.”

“Impressive,” she said around a mouthful of food.

After five solid minutes of stuffing her face, she paused and scrounged up the decency to put back that sixth turkey-and-cream-cheese wheel. “You said something about a tour?”

“This way.” He motioned her to follow him.

The lure of food had blinded her to all else. Hunger sated for the moment, she glanced around the open floor plan, a cavernous space that combined the kitchen, dining room and great room. A giant fireplace of natural stone held the focal point in the great room. Subtle textures and muted colors filled in the gaps to offer a deceptively simple, rustic experience.

“Whoever you hired as your decorator must’ve known you well.” The design
resonated with his personality.

“I worked closely with her,” was all he said.

Allison wondered if he’d been romantically involved with the woman. Probably. Only a lover would understand his nuances and preferences. She experienced a
sting of jealousy picturing
another woman spending time with him physically, creatively and intimately until she knew every facet of him, well enough to recreate him on the canvass of his home.

“How nice for you,” she muttered.

Nature-inspired abstract paintings hung on walls of taupe and sage green, which complimented the earthy dark-leather furniture. Then there were pops of color, rust and persimmon accents in the artwork and pillows on his u-shaped
sofa.

She recognized his scent of ginger-spice and pine permeating the air. Soothing, comforting. Despite the spaciousness, she felt like she’d walked into a hug.

To her amazement the design appealed to masculine and feminine tastes. She liked his home more than she’d expected.
First, they scaled the massive curving staircase to the second floor. Unadorned windows looked out onto the wooded landscape, where strategically placed outdoor lighting made the bare branches and winter scene inviting. He showed her the spacious bedrooms, two at one end, two at the other.

As they entered the fourth bedroom and he flipped on the light, a smile lit her face. “My things!”

She recognized the furnishings from her apartment, her desk overlooking the bank of windows, her bookcase against the far wall, pictures of her parents propped on a dresser. He’d taken the liberty of upgrading her bed to a king-sized dream, something out of a magazine, topped with a sage-and-lavender bedspread, anchored by a whimsical iron-scrolled headboard. On the walls hung framed black and white scenes of European cities, Paris, London, Rome, plus a few artistic photos of the French countryside.

“I love it,” she whispered.

“I wanted it to feel like…home.”

It felt more like home than when she’d lived in those places. He’d captured her essence in the tranquil beauty of this room. A lump formed in her throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

A soft silence surrounded them. Comfort enfolded her.

“Tour’s not over.”

He guided her down two flights to the basement. Which could’ve been a 3,000 square-foot house unto itself. A kitchen, two baths and a family room sprawled before her boasting a Cadillac-sized
flat screen TV flanked by built-in shelves filled with sports paraphernalia. The other doors led to a full gym—which he obviously used daily—a movie theater with recliners and surround sound, and an industrial room that housed the security equipment and a dozen camera monitors. Not to mention the temperature-controlled wine cellar with hundreds of gleaming bottles, the mood set with pendant lighting and travertine mosaic tiles from Italy.

“In my wildest dreams, I never could’ve envisioned a home like this.” She turned circles viewing the space. “You have everything you could ever want, right here.”

“Almost everything.”

The cryptic words caught her attention. Her gaze shot to him. Before she could read his expression, he turned and headed upstairs.
She followed him to the main floor, which boasted a regal yet comfortable sitting room leading out to an enclosed greenhouse, a library, an office, and finally his first floor master suite.

Nervousness slowed her steps and she lingered in the doorway. A high slanted ceiling with exposed rough-hewn beams mirrored the architecture of his A-frame great room. Except the accent wall showcasing his king sleigh bed was a deeper shade of green, and the accent lighting shed an intimate amber glow.