Hip Deep in Dragons (12 page)

“Nu uh. Not Liberty. She’s way too much for me. Besides I already have my eye on who I want. I’m just waiting for the right opportunity.” He nodded in the bouncing bombshell’s direction. “But Liberty might just rock your world.”

Huffing out a disgusted breath, Flynn placed his half-empty bottle on the table.

“I’m shit with women. But one thing I do know, you shouldn’t wait too long, Ethan. Time passes.” Flynn clapped Ethan on the shoulder in lieu of grappling him around the neck like they used to do a few years before.

He made his way through the crowds to the door. One last glance over his right shoulder showed him Lady Liberty was still giving him the come-on. Her huge eyes watched, her smile, full of saddened regret.

He let the door slap firmly shut behind him to block out her beautiful eyes and her god-awful voice.

He climbed into the old ranch truck and clenched the steering wheel with one hand, leaned back into the comfortable worn leather seat, and gave a weary sigh. He was tired. At twenty-six he’d become a miserable excuse for a human being.

As bodyguard to the infamous movie star Cormack Blunt he’d had fun. Wild for a time, no one had called the shots other than Cormack, a.k.a. his cousin Mac. A few years older, Mac had saved him, dragged his sorry ass over to L.A. and made him work, when all he wanted to do was crawl into a corner and sulk. He’d forced him to look after himself when his best idea had been to grab a bottle and get himself drunk.

Assigned as bodyguard and stunt coordinator, he’d delighted in torturing the action hero with killer exploits over the last couple of years. Ignored by most of Hollywood, with the exception of the odd starlet determined to use him to get to the movie star, he’d become more cynical as time went on as he witnessed how willing a human was to ignore something revolting to them in order to become a success in their own small world.

After Mac’s departure touring Europe on his honeymoon for eight weeks with his new wife Zoe and their son Ryan, Flynn made the decision to come back to the ranch. The last thing they needed was a bodyguard—or a stunt coordinator come to think of it.

Despite the offer from a number of celebrities to work for them in Mac’s absence, Flynn thought he deserved a break himself from the superficial world of movie making. Apart from anything, his rapport with Mac was such that Flynn did what he liked, and he liked to be his own boss. As long as he got his job done, everything was fine. Most celebrities would be a pain in the ass with their demands. Mac never had been.

He didn’t regret taking time away, but he missed the kid. Strange he and Ryan, an eleven-year-old boy, had got on so well. Kids were easy though, non-judgmental.

He let himself into his lodge at the far edge of the ranch accommodation block. Quiet and dark, it was just what he wanted.

Jesus, he needed to be alone. It was why he’d come back home to the ranch. Male companionship and miles of open space to lose himself. The last thing he needed to fuzz his mind and make him want was some brainless little floozy intent on saving him.

He left the lights off, navigated his way through to the bedroom in the pitch black and sat on the side of his bed. He expelled a long drawn-out sigh, his body deflated, muscles relaxed, he closed his eyes against the darkness and rested his face in his hands. Unbidden a vision of the bubbly brunette with the welcoming eyes flashed through his mind and disturbed his peace.

•●•

Beautiful was the only word she could think of to describe the cowboy who’d just left Toe Tappers. He’d sat partly in the shadows, his perfect profile toward her most the time, but every so often he’d tilted his head and the flickering light from the wall lantern had slanted across his bright eyes as he gave her a slow serious perusal.

His firm lips remained in a straight line for the entire time he’d been there, depicting serious and broody, not normally her type. Quiet and intellectual would be a more accurate description of the sort of man she was drawn to. But when he’d tipped his head back to take a swallow of beer from the bottle he held with long-fingered casualness, her pulse escalated from a leisurely trot to a roaring gallop.

She’d felt a terrific urge to trace her tongue along his strong, muscular throat and take a good bite of his ear.

A warm flush stole across her skin as she closed her eyes and imagined what he would smell like—probably leather and horses and masculine heat. Liberty nibbled her bottom lip and allowed herself a secretive smile thinking of the hot cowboy. No harm in letting her imagination run riot once in a while.

She cast a quick glance around the empty parking lot before she levered herself into the truck she’d borrowed. Her short legs caused her a little difficulty as her mini-skirt rode further up her backside and restricted her ability to simply hop in, making her entrance an inelegant affair. Good job nobody was there to see. She sprawled across the leather seat, slithered around in an attempt to straighten up. Almost pitiful no one was there—they could have given her a boost up and saved her some ungainly effort.

Irritated, her movements short and jerky, she screwed up her face and gave it a brief rub. Stupid of her, she thought—as reality kicked in while she wriggled into the over-sized seat—to have any kind of illusion the guy would be interested. Her breath came deeper now and embarrassment tinged every thought. He’d been a god, a certain hunk of the month, a sexy stud who’d left the place with barely a backward glance. She smiled.

Not quite true, he had given a quick glimpse over his shoulder, and when his narrow-eyed gaze met hers, she’d almost flung herself off the stage and hurtled after him. Except he’d gone, in the blink of an eye and it was too late to catch up. Besides, there was no reason he would possibly be interested in her. There was no need for him to look twice.

She was quite ordinary.