His Bodyguard (14 page)

Uncertainty stirred through Brenna. Should she sit beside him, stand guard over him, try to—

“See any bad guys?” he asked, glancing up.

She scowled at him.

“Wouldn’t I be safer if you were right here beside me? That way,” he said, grinning a little, though even in the darkness, it almost looked like he tried not to, “you could shield me with your body should anyone start taking potshots.”

She deepened her scowl.

“You never know,” he said. “Come on.”

She searched for some kind of excuse to keep her distance. But other than telling him she absolutely couldn’t resist him if she sat that close, she could think of nothing to say, so she wandered over and sat down beside him.

The silence was as heavy as the air around them.

Brenna cleared her throat “I didn’t think it’d get this hot so far up north.”

He shrugged, and cocking his leg, pulled off one boot, then the other. “It can, for a month or so.”

“Oh.” She stared out over the water again. Somewhere near the middle, a fish splashed.

Nathan pulled off his socks, stuck them sloppily into his boots and dropped his feet into the water with a sigh.

Brenna was immediately jealous, but she dared not expose that much skin. It would be far too tempting for her. Silence settled in again.

“Wanna go for a swim?”

She jerked her gaze toward him. “What?”

He grinned at her. “Sure.”

“I didn’t…I don’t have a suit.”

He shrugged, looking nonchalant as he casually began to unbutton his shirt “You got underwear on, don’t you?”

She tried to glare at him, but it didn’t work very well, because she could see the tight mounds of his pectorals now and momentarily forgot how to pry her gaze from his chest.

“Don’t you?” he asked again.

She swallowed.

“I mean, not that I have any objections. Either way, it’s okay. There’s nobody here but me.”

Just him? Like there was anyone else in the world?

“No one’ll see.” He pulled his shirttail from his jeans. “I mean…” His silver belt buckle fell away with a quick flick of his hand.

He stood up. Her gaze rose with him, pinned to his chest like a needle in a paper donkey’s rump. He was beautiful, dark, sculpted, and so unearthly alluring in the pearlescent light.

“You’re just one of the boys. Right?” he asked.

She stared. He reached for her hand. She knew that if she had the mind of a mole, she’d run like hell, but somehow, her hand lifted of its own accord and settled into his.

He pulled her to her feet. They were face to face now, and so close she could feel his charisma like the crack of a whip.

“I’m going in,” he said softly. “What if there’s someone lying in wait for me…lurking under the water, waiting to pull me under?” He moved a scant step closer. “And you’re not there to save me?”

She was breathing hard, staring up into his face like a lost puppy, hoping he would release her, praying he wouldn’t.

“Will you come?” he whispered.

No. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. She shouldn’t.

He kissed the corner of her mouth.

“Okay,” she whispered and realized suddenly that he had stopped breathing.

She raised her gaze to his and he seemed to jerk back to reality.

“Good.” He nodded. “I’ll just…Do you need help with your…” He motioned toward his own chest “Anything.”

“I can manage.”

He turned away.

Her face was hot and her hands shaky. What had she done? What had she said? What was wrong with—

But suddenly she noticed that he was stepping out of his jeans. His legs were sprinkled with dark hair and as long as forever. She stared, noticing how his white underwear clung like a second skin.

He raised his eyes. Their gazes clashed.

“You’re awful slow,” he murmured.

For the life of her she couldn’t think of a single rejoinder, clever or otherwise. And when he stepped toward her, she found her lips could form no objections, and her legs refused to back away.

“Let me help you with those,” he said, and reaching out, gently slipped her buttons from their holes. Her blouse sighed open. She felt the breeze lap her hot body, felt his fingers graze her sensitized skin as he slipped the shirt from her shoulders and let it drop to the ground.

His hands delayed a moment on her shoulders, then slid, slow as sorghum down her arms. She shivered at his touch, and held her breath as his fingers grazed her abdomen to find the snap of her jeans.

In a moment, they were sliding down her legs. She felt his hand, large and strong and hot against her buttocks. Felt his breath against her throat. And against her hip, she felt the hard evidence of his desire.

He pulled his hands away with obvious effort “Maybe…” His tone was guttural. “Maybe you better do the rest yourself.”

She tried to nod, to be casual, professional, nonchalant. Indeed, she may even have had a modicum of success, but her shoes had forgotten her vow of chastity. Firmly stuck in her pant legs, they refused to let her move. Brenna tried to pull her leg out, but it didn’t work, and so, with a small gasp of dismay, she fell forward.

Nathan caught her against his chest. They remained as they were for a frozen moment, her leaning against him as if he were a wall, and him standing as still as the damn rock of Gibraltar.

“Or maybe I should help you,” he murmured against her cheek, and bending slightly, hooked his arm behind her knees and lifted her into his arms.

She could feel each inhalation he made, each rise and fall of his chest against her bare arm.

“O’Shay.” He breathed her name like a prayer, their faces inches apart, their hearts all but joined.

“What?”

“You’d better kick off your shoes. Wouldn’t want my bodyguard to drown.”

Blushing, she snapped her attention to her feet, and managed to do as directed. In a moment, her shoes lay on the ground and her jeans were willing to follow. More than willing, eager, as if every inch of her wanted to be pressed against him.

“Put me down.” She managed the words, though her brain was begging her not to.

“You’re…” He was staring into her eyes. “You’re the lightest bodyguard I ever had.”

“I’m the only bodyguard you’ve ever had,” she murmured, her gaze caught on his.

“Oh yeah.” He paused. “So I’d probably feel this way about any of them, huh?”

She swallowed, knowing she shouldn’t ask. “How do you feel?” she whispered.

“Light-headed.”

“Yeah?”

“’Cause no matter what you say, you feel like a woman to me.”

She licked her lips. “Nathan…” She was breathing too fast, and it would be really embarrassing if she passed out again. “I…” She let out a heavy breath and tried again. “I can’t deny that I’m…attracted to you.”

“But you have,” he said.

“What?”

“You have denied it”

“I know. But I…I’m your bodyguard. Your employee.” It was a strange thing to say, while being held in his arms, pressed up to his chest like a precious gift. “I’m trying to be professional.”

“I think you’re professional,” he murmured, and kissed the corner of her mouth.

She moaned at the touch of his lips. “Listen, Fox, you know you’re sexy.”

Another kiss, this time to her throat.

“And gorgeous.”

A kiss to her collarbone.

“And seductive and alluring and—”

He kissed her full on the lips.

Fire smoked through her. Her hormones were ringing off the hook. But she pressed her hand to his chest and managed to break off the kiss.

“This is…” She was breathing too damn hard. Unconsciousness mocked her. “This is ridiculous.”

He stared at her, his eyes as dark as ebony in his sculpted face.

“I’m not your type. You need someone…” She was trying to think. Really she was. But her entire being was pretty much occupied with other things. “Well…I’m a bodyguard. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be. I’m independent and pushy and…And you…” She was panting slightly. “You’re arrogant and old-fashioned and…and we’re totally incompatible. So I was thinking.” She licked her lips again. “Maybe if we did it, just once, we’d get it out of our systems.” She said it in a rush, before her brain knew what her lips had in mind.

“Did it?” he said softly.

“Yeah,” she whispered, barely able to force out the word. “I’m sure if we…you know…have sex once…we’ll see it’s not that big a deal and be able to…forget about it”

He was silent for a short eternity. “You think so?”

She cleared her throat. “I’m sure of it”

Somewhere far away, an owl hooted.

Brenna met his gaze. “So what do you say?” she whispered.

“It’s a good plan,” he said.

B
ENEATH A BENT CLUSTER OF COTTONWOODS
, the sand was as soft as silt.

Nathan lowered Brenna there, then settled on his side to lie down beside her. Darkness had settled in like a downy blanket around them. Overhead, the sky was inky black and studded with a billion stars.

Oh yes, he wanted to make love to her, but if the truth be known, he’d wanted to make love to her since the first moment he saw her surrounded by her beefy-necked colleagues. Even so, her reasons for doing it now seemed too asinine to take advantage of. Ridiculous, ludicrous—

Brenna skimmed her fingers up his abdomen to his chest where she traced the crescent shape of his scar. Lightning followed her path, setting him ablaze.

Okay, her reasons weren’t
so
asinine.

She moved closer still. Flesh touched flesh, warmth on warmth. Her thigh brushed his, her arm caressed his chest. Nate’s breathing escalated.

All right, there was
some
sense to what she said, he admitted breathlessly.

And then she leaned forward and touched her lips to his in a kiss that seared all coherent thought to ashes.

She had a great plan, a wonderful plan, a
phenomenal
plan, he thought, and wrapping her in his arms, kissed her with all the trembling intensity in his soul. She kissed him back with equal heat, and suddenly he couldn’t feel enough, couldn’t kiss enough, couldn’t see enough. Her bra slipped away from breasts firm and soft and round. Her underpants followed suit, along with his. He kissed her legs, her abdomen, the sweet,
tiny dell of her belly button. She writhed beneath him, and the sight of her in the moonlight was like hot magic, sucking him in, pulling him under.

He longed to slip inside of her, to feel her wrapped around him, to quench his feverish desire for her. But he couldn’t deny that he wanted so much more, wanted her here beside him…forever. Wanted her spark and her spirit and her wit. So he slowed his movements with Herculean effort, letting his fingers trail a languid path between her breasts, needing to make her want him as he did her. She shivered beneath his touch. He kissed her shoulder, her throat, the shivery sensitive crease of her elbow.

She jerked to a sitting position, breathing hard, her hair like a wild jumble of rubies in the moonlight. Her nipples caressed his chest, nearly stopping his heart, and her lips, only a breath away, were parted and strawberry sweet.

Nathan ran a finger over them, felt her exhalations in small pants, then blazed a languorous path down her throat, along the side of her breast and around her taut waist. Rolling onto his back, he pulled her with him. Her nipples teased his chest, and she straddled him, her sweet bottom settled warm and wet against his own turgid heat.

He moaned at the impact and tried to remain still, to give her time. But she reached back and stroked him.

Nathan sucked air through his teeth, going absolutely rigid, and in that moment, she arched upward and took him inside her. With a keening moan she dropped her head back. The moonlight, soft as fairy dust, glanced off her breasts, and for a moment Nathan was paralyzed by her beauty. But then she moved, squeezing him firmly, and he was carried along in the wave of her momentum.

He pressed into her with a groan of ecstasy and suddenly there was nothing but the soaring search for pleasure. Nothing but the touch, the sights, the taste of ecstasy as they strove to please and be pleased.

Nathan gripped her hips, and Brenna, eyes closed and back arched, rode him toward the sky. The tempo increased with their breathing. Propping her hands on his chest, Brenna
curled her nails into his shoulders, and it was the rapt intensity of her expression as much as anything that drove Nathan on until, with a small shriek, she stiffened above him. Her muscles spasmed around him. Her gripping urgency spilled him over the edge of need and into the kind folds of utopia. She collapsed onto his chest, panting softly against his shoulder. Their hearts thrummed against each other like ancient war drums, and in the background, a snowy owl called again, like the lullaby of a simpler time.

Eventually, able to breathe, to move, even to think a few rudimentary thoughts, Nathan kissed Brenna’s shoulder. “So, did it work?”

“Huh?” she said, her tone groggy.

“Did it work? Are you cured? No more of that…you know…” He exhaled, still trying to catch his breath. “That nasty attraction stuff.”

“Oh.” She was still panting slightly, but managed to ease off him enough to glance shyly into his face. “Yeah. I’m sure it did. I’m…” She cleared her throat “I’m fine now.”

“Good.” He ran his hand down the steep slope of her waist, felt her shiver violently against him and almost,
almost
grinned.

“Well…” She sat up, sounding businesslike but slightly breathless. “I suppose we should get dressed.”

“After a swim.”

“What?” she asked, but he was already on his feet and tugging her up after him.

“We’re all cured now, so we might as well enjoy a swim.”

“But—” She sounded slightly panicked, so he bent and lifted her into his arms. Her skin felt like warm satin against his naked body.

“Just to wash off,” he said and carried her into the water.

The waves lapped up to his thighs and higher, over his buttocks and onto hers. He waded deeper and finally let her legs slip into the water. She tried to step away, and he intended to let her do it. But damn…the moon was still out and he had to kiss her. She resisted for a moment, but just when she was starting to soften, he let her go.

“Come on,” he said. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He swam downstream a ways, and she followed until finally he saw what he was looking for. Swimming over to the huge boulder, he climbed up its smooth face to perch on the edge and urge her up beside him.

She came finally and they stood up together, gazing downstream where the moon glistened off the water like a thousand diamonds and the land seemed to roll away forever. A magical night in a magical place.

Finally, they made their way back to shore. Their clothes were much more reluctant to get on than to get off. But they managed it with some effort. The ride home was quiet. They turned their horses out to pasture and headed for the house. Brenna turned off the alarm system and let them in, but when she reached up to flip on the light, Nathan stopped her.

“I like the dark,” he said softly and kissed her.

“Nathan…” She breathed his name against his lips. “I thought—”

“Right. I know. It’s out of our systems.” He pushed back her hair, heavy and damp. “We’re just buddies now.” Looping an arm around her back, he pulled her an inch closer. “So surely I can give you a friendly kiss.” He kissed her again, slowly this time, lingeringly, letting his tongue sweep the swell of her bottom lip. “Can’t I?”

“Umm…” She felt limp in his arms. “Sure.”

He smiled and, reaching out, took her hand. “Come on. I’ll escort you to your room.”

Moonlight streamed onto her bed, picking out a few colors of the patchwork counterpane and casting the rest in moonbeam shadows.

“Better get out of those damp clothes,” he said.

“I—”

“Here,” he said. “I’ll help you.” “Nathan, I think—”

“Just buddies,” he said and reaching for her buttons, peeled her shirt away. The sight of her breasts in the moonlight
was almost his undoing, but he kept his tone brusque. “Lie down.”

“What?”

He tossed back the blankets on her bed. “Lie down. I’ll help with your pants.”

To his everlasting gratitude, she did so, lying back on the bed, with the moonlight soft and silver upon her. He untied her shoes and pulled them off. Then he unsnapped her jeans and finally tossed them on the floor.

“There. Slide in.”

She did so and he swept the covers over her. He meant to leave then, to give her a chance to dream about the hours just past, to remember the beauty of their time together. To realize how right they were together. He’d just kiss her good-night and then go. Bending sideways, he brushed his lips against hers. But drawing away was more difficult than anticipated. He did so with great effort.

“Good night,” he breathed, determined to make her realize her mistake by his absence.

“Good night.” Her voice was whisper soft. So soft that he
had
to lean closer to hear. And once he was closer, it seemed so right to brush his lips across hers just once more. When he drew away this time he was breathing hard and starting to sweat. The upside was that her small fists were curled into his shirt with darling ferocity.

He smiled inside. That was just where he wanted her—needy, achy, lonely. He’d leave now, give her time.

“I’ve got to go,” he said, but his tone didn’t sound good. Rather like a parched man left too long in the sun.

“Nathan.” She breathed his name.

“What?”

She paused, seeming to fight a battle with herself. “Maybe…maybe twice would be okay.”

Oh God, yes. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, his body screamed. But his head reprimanded him. “I’d like to…” More than anything on earth! “But I think you’re right We have to set boundaries. It’s out of our systems now. I don’t want to be the death of your dream. You’ve worked so hard.”

“Hard…” She pulled him closer, her fists still clenched in his shirt. He tried to resist, but she was really strong, he told himself. Her lips touched his. “Hard’s good.”

He allowed one brief kiss—one brief, drawn out, hotter-than-hell, curl your toes kiss.

“No. O’Shay…really.” He made a feeble attempt to pull away, but just at that second, her hand slipped beneath his shirt. Her fingers felt like heaven against his taut muscles, and dammit, even the moonlight was against him.

With a martyred sigh, he lowered his body to hers and kissed her.

T
HE DAYS HURRIED BY
in a wild rush of teasing and laughter, of long midnight talks and late-morning breakfasts.

Brenna tried to feel guilty, to remember her duties, her profession. But each time a smidgen of guilt crept in, Nathan would kiss her, or touch her hand, or look at her with his maple syrup eyes, and all would be forgotten.

They made love on the butcher block kitchen counter, in the oversized bathtub, and once in the attic, while supposedly searching for misplaced cowboy boots.

Brenna told herself she should be ashamed, but try as she might, she couldn’t conjure up even a modicum of worthy guilt. So she told herself she was doing the right thing—getting him out of her system. But with each day that passed, he seemed more and more a part of her life, a part of her well-being, a part of
her.

Weeks flew by, although Brenna couldn’t say how many.

It was on a lazy Wednesday afternoon that Nathan decided Nuf needed a bath. Certain she didn’t want to get involved in the argument between the two of them, Brenna declined the offer to assist him. But being near Nathan under any circumstances was preferable to being apart from him, and finally she was drawn into the melee. They emerged from the bathroom only slightly wetter than the cat, spattered with soapsuds and laughing too hard to actually find the tom who had darted, soaking and furious, toward the kitchen.

Nathan finally trailed him by his slippery path of water
and Brenna followed. The kitchen, she noticed, looked much as they had left it the night before when they’d been too distracted by miscellaneous body parts to tidy up. The truth was, neither of them were great housekeepers, and were it not for Tyrel’s ancient housekeeper, Pansy, who came once a week to do a mercy cleaning, the place would probably have been condemned long ago.

“There he is,” Brenna said, spying the tawny cat couched behind a spattered mixing bowl. She noticed his flattened ears and less-than-ecstatic expression. “I think Nuf has had enough.”

Nathan laughed. “Geez, you’re clever, O’Shay,” he said, watching the cat. “Catch him and I’ll do something special for you.”

His hand touched the small of her back, and like Pavlov’s dog, every nerve ending in her immediately started to hum.

“Something special,” she said, turning toward him.

“Yeah.” He raised his brows, then let his gaze skim the cluttered counter. “With the cooking oil.” His fingers snuck beneath her blouse and made an intriguing little circle on her back.

She locked her knees and guessed, “You’ll make fried chicken?”

“Not exactly,” he said, and leaning closer, whispered in her ear. Her face felt warm and her hormones dizzying.

“Think you can catch him?” Nathan murmured, kissing her ear.

“Olive oil or corn?” she asked, sighing as she closed her eyes to the luscious feelings.

“Olive,” he whispered.

She moaned slightly as his kisses trailed lower, then with a brave effort, turned away. “Well, for
olive oil
,” she murmured. “Come here, cat. You’re about to be sacrificed for the good of—”

But her words stopped dead. “Nathan,” she whispered, barely able to breathe. “Where did that paper come from?”

He moved closer again, his fingers light against her skin. But her flesh had turned cold.

“Nathan! It’s a letter!”

He straightened, his hands going still and his body tense. “Where?”

“By the flour bin.”

They moved toward the counter together, their fingers somehow clasped between their tense bodies.

It was written on a plain sheet of narrow ruled paper ripped from a spiral notebook and said simply, “You’re too damned lucky.”

T
HE POLICE CAME, ASKED QUESTIONS
, took the letter, searched the house for any clues, came up with nothing, and left.

Night settled in.

“I think you should hire someone else,” Brenna said. The living room, which usually seemed so warm and friendly, suddenly felt chill and empty. “Another bodyguard.” She rose to her feet and paced the length of the room, crossing the Navaho rug where they’d made love only two days before. The memory haunted her now. Had someone watched them? Had someone been standing in the shadows, planning evil? “Several bodyguards.”

Nathan followed her with his gaze from the settle upholstered in hunter green. “Wouldn’t they kind of cramp our style?”