His Bodyguard (9 page)

Fifteen minutes later, when they sat down to eat, Nathan broached a new subject “Sarge thinks I should rent one of Simmons’ paints for the new video.”

“Jack Simmons?”

“Yeah.”

“You’d go way down to Oklahoma to ride a horse?”

“A
paint
horse. You know Sarge. Working every angle. Gotta go with the fads.”

“Pay me half as much as you’d have to pay Simmons and you can ride one of mine,” Ty said.

Nate snorted as he consumed the chili. “I could ride Lula for free.”

“You don’t want a palomino. You want a nice bay. Hazard’s got—”

“Oh geez!” Nate said. “Spare me the litany of your stud’s fine qualities.”

Tyrel laughed. “What do you think, Brenna? Don’t you think Nate should ride a brown horse? He’s already so…” He gestured vaguely toward him with an open hand. “Don’t you think he’d look kind of girly on a yellow horse?”

Brenna couldn’t help but laugh at the noise Nathan made as he choked on his dinner.

“I’ve always had a fondness for palominos,” she said.

“You know horses. She knows horses,” Tyrel said in surprise.

“A small-town girl,” Nate said.

“Yeah? A small-town bodyguard. I haven’t had a need for a lot of bodyguards, but I’m guessing you’re not the average sort,” Ty observed.

“Better legs,” Nate said and grinned.

Brenna stiffened slightly, wishing with all her might that she could work up a little righteous indignation. “I assure you I’m well trained and proficient,” she said. “I’ll take good care of your brother.”

Ty grinned as he rubbed his arm where she’d kicked him. “I wasn’t doubting.”

She looked down and played with her crackers. “Oh. Well…” She rose to her feet and headed for the door. “I’m going to meander around the parking lot for a little while.”

“O’Shay?”

“Yeah?” She turned back to Nathan.

“Don’t attack anybody unless I’m there to watch, huh?”

She snorted as she left the bus, and both men grinned.

“Well,” Ty said and rose to his feet. “I’d better get back. Much as I’m sure you’d like me to uh…” he leaned back to move a shade and glance out the window “
…chaperone,
I can’t stay the night.” His gaze skimmed back to Nate who rose too.

“I
will
miss you. The dishes aren’t washed, and I’m scared to ask O’Shay to help.”

Ty chuckled as he moved toward the door. He pulled on his boots then straightened. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

“What do you think, that I hired O’Shay for her great legs?”

“I know you better than that,” Ty said. “Your tastes run higher up.”

Nathan glanced toward the door. “If I reach in
that
direction, I’m liable to have my hand chewed off.”

“It could be what you’ve needed all along, brother—a woman with teeth.”

Nathan snorted. “What I need is a woman who can’t beat me in arm wrestling.”

Tyrel chuckled. “Maybe she’ll let you win.”

Nate thought of a snappy rejoinder, but didn’t say it. Instead,
he leaned his shoulder against the wall and stared at his older brother.

Silence filled the bus.

“That bad, huh?” Ty asked.

“What?” Nathan pulled away from the wall. “No. It’s just…” He exhaled sharply and ran splayed fingers through his hair. “Damn, it’s confusing. She looks like a lamb and kicks like a mule.”

“Some folks swear by mules.”

Nate sighed. “She don’t want none of it, Ty.”

“What
does
she want?”

Nathan shrugged. He didn’t mean to act like a snot-nosed kid, but Tyrel seemed to bring out that side of him. There was nothing like a big brother to wipe your nose for you. “Maybe she wants to be a man.” He felt grumpy and frustrated and knew he was being unfair.

“Yeah?” Ty said. “Well, if that’s what she’s after, she’s losing the battle. And she don’t look like no loser to me.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, she’s the best thing I’ve seen you with since you left your palomino at home, son.”

Nathan shook his head. “She’s all wrong for me.”

“Too pretty?”

Nate snorted. “She’s independent and stubborn and, hell, she drives me crazy. I need someone like…Mom. Someone who’ll take care of me when—”

Tyrel laughed out loud. “Are you talking about
our
mom? The woman who took out the buggy whip when Dad came home drunk?”

“What?”

“Maybe you were too young to remember, little brother. But there’s a reason Dad walks the straight and narrow.”

Nathan remained quiet for a moment “Are you saying I should go after O’Shay?”

“I’m saying—” Ty scooped his cap onto his head “—Dad’s the one who swears by mules.”

B
RENNA CROUCHED UNDER
Nathan’s nightstand, fiddling with some wires and worrying about a thousand things. Who was sending the letters? Would her brothers leave her alone to do her job? Who had called Bartman Security to ask about her?

She pushed the last worry out of her mind. Because if anyone associated with Fox Inc. suspected she wasn’t a certified bodyguard, she’d certainly have heard about it by now.

Which allowed her to worry about other things. She glanced toward the bed. But she refused to think how he would look lying there. She wouldn’t think of how his fingers would feel against her skin, or how his voice would tickle her ear.

They hadn’t slept on the bus three nights ago as Nathan had suggested, but had returned to the relative safety of the hotel. Still, she had known he slept in the very next room to hers, only a few feet away. The thought had made her queasy
last
night, but tonight was worse yet She’d been unable to do anything more constructive than pace. Which was infinitely better than begging him to do what she was dying to beg him to do.

“What are you doing?”

Brenna jerked up at the sound of Nathan’s voice, hitting her head on the ledge of the narrow nightstand. She rubbed the burgeoning bump, slipped onto his bed, and refused to blush, for she was certain she had nothing to feel guilty about

“What are
you
doing?” she asked.

“I’m standing in my bus, wondering what the hell you’re doing with your head stuck under my drawers.”

“I’ve been hired to protect you, remember?” she said, standing up and trying not to fidget. She had snuck out here long after she was certain he would be asleep. Sure she would be undisturbed, she hadn’t bothered with her professional image. Instead, she’d merely slipped into a pair of comfortable shorts and an oversized T-shirt. “Sarge gave me free rein.”

“Free rein!” he scoffed as he leaned against the doorjamb. His bare arms looked tan and muscular where he’d torn the sleeves from his faded plaid shirt “What are you, a trail horse? Guess that’d make me a wrangler—ready to cull the herd and gentle the keepers. You a keeper or a cull, O’Shay?”

The thing about Fox was, he shifted gears too fast, Brenna thought nervously. His emotions were as changeable as her underwear. She rushed to keep up.

“I’m not a horse,” she said, feeling skittish.

“You must be a woman then, O’Shay. And I tell you what, if there’s a beautiful woman spending time in my bed, I’d sure as hell like to be there when it happens.”

She was
not
going to blush. “I wasn’t spending time in your bed.” She said the words very primly, and wished with all her soul that for once she could sound gruff. “I was installing a listening device.”

“You’re bugging my bedroom?” he asked, straightening from the wall.

She cleared her throat. “I’ve been hired to—”

“You’re bugging my bedroom?” he repeated, louder now.

“I just want to make certain that if anyone breaks in we can—”

“Listen, sweetheart, if you want to know what goes on in my bedroom, you can just ask.”

She raised her chin a notch. “You, Mr. Fox, have an ego of outstanding proportions.”

“You should see my other attributes.”

Snatching her bag of goodies from the bed where Nuf
sprawled, Brenna prepared to storm by Nathan, but he spoke again.

“Why the bedroom, O’Shay?” he asked. “Why such interest in here? The horrible villains could be anywhere. Under the sink. Over the cabinets. In the refrigerator!”

“Don’t worry yourself about it,” she said, pressing past him.

He turned with her, then snatched her arm at the last moment. “You bugged my refrigerator?”

“I’ve been hired to—”

“Dammit, O’Shay, you’ve been hired to keep Sarge from driving me crazy and look cute doing it Nothing more.”

“I’ve been hired to protect you,” she ground out and jerked her arm from his grasp. “No matter how it batters your fragile, overblown ego.”

“Overblown! Hell, woman, I’ll be lucky to retain the tiniest germ of an ego by the time you’re through. It’s not bad enough that I need a woman to protect me, now you want me to believe it’s a
woman
who’s trying to kill me!”

“I don’t write the letters, Fox. I just read them.”

“Read them! You
pore
over them. You
immerse
yourself in them. You go to
bed
with them!”

She stiffened at the innuendo. “Is there a point you’re trying to make, Fox?”

“How long ago did your job replace men in your life?”

“You’ve no right to pry into my private life.”

“Private life,” he scoffed and settled a shoulder against the doorjamb again. “O’Shay, I don’t even know your first
name,
much less your private life.” He paused, and though it seemed impossible, she thought she saw a flicker of laughter in his eyes. “Give me a little something.”

“What?” She all but hissed the question.

He grinned. “A little morsel to chew on. Your name? Address? Shoe size?”

She pursed her lips and tried to remain strong, but his grin did evil things to her equilibrium. “I’m a bodyguard,” she said stiffly. “That’s all you need to know.”

“Okay. Let’s start there. Why do you do it?”

She would have backed off a pace, but there was no room. “What?”

“Why are you a bodyguard?”

“It’s what I’m good at”

His gaze seemed warm and steady on her face. With his hat gone and his plaid shirt open several buttons, he looked casual and earthy and so ruggedly attractive it made her eyeballs sweat.

“I bet you’re good at a lot of things,” he said quietly.

“You might be surprised.”

“With your looks and your tenacity you could be anything you want” He stepped closer, crowding her back against the sliding door. “An athlete, an attorney.” Reaching out, he brushed back a lock of her hair. “A model.”

She forced herself to remain where she was. Though she knew she should retreat, she wanted to advance, to skim her fingers along the strength of his jaw, to touch her lips to his. It was disgusting, really. “I don’t want to be a model,” she murmured.

“Then it’d sure make my life a hell of a bunch easier if you didn’t look like one.”

There was exasperation in his tone. She couldn’t help but be thrilled by it, though she tried not to be.

“I was meant to be in law enforcement,” she said. “It’s in my blood.”

“And what about your social life? Have you got one of those?”

His hand was still on her hair. It seemed she could feel the heat of his fingers all the way to her bones. “Not with you,” she murmured.

He didn’t move. “You know, there have been a few women in my past who haven’t found me completely repulsive. Just my luck you’d be in the other party.”

She was tempted to laugh out loud, but controlled herself. “Fishing for compliments again, Fox?”

“Just whining about the injustices of life. Unrequited…lust…and all that”

“I’m not the lusty type.”

“You sure?”

She didn’t answer. “This is my job. I need to do it.”

“No, you don’t I could hire someone else, and we could…” He paused, his maple syrup eyes earnest. “Regardless of what you think of me, I could take care of you.”

She was one weak puppy. Because despite all her training, all her struggles, all her solemn vows to herself, she suddenly wanted nothing more than to be taken care of by Nathan Fox, to laugh at his jokes and share in his days and let the barriers crumble between them. But she pushed those mushy thoughts out of her head.

“Men have been trying to take care of me all my life,” she whispered.

“You can’t blame us for being attracted to you.”

“It’s not because they were attracted,” she said. “It was because they thought I couldn’t do it myself.”

“I guarantee Tyrel would tell you differently.”

“Tyrel isn’t my brother,” she said.

His eyebrows popped up. “Your brother wants to take care of you?”

“They promised Daddy,” she said, then snapped her mouth shut and silently reprimanded herself.

“And you have to prove something to them,” he said, his tone definite.

Damn her big mouth. “It’s just my job. That’s all.”

His fingers brushed her neck as he swept her hair behind her shoulder. “You don’t have to prove anything to
me,
O’Shay.”

“I’m not trying to prove anything, Fox. I’m just trying to keep you alive.”

“I am alive,” he said, and leaning forward, he kissed her.

The heat of his lips seared her senses to ashes. His hand scooped behind her neck, pulling her closer. She bunched her hands in the wear-softened cotton of his shirt, but it seemed she was holding him close instead of pushing him away.

His hand slid down her back. She released his shirt and clasped his forearms. She meant to retreat, but the muscles beneath her fingers were corded and alluring.

His tongue touched her lips. Her hands fell from his arms only to find themselves clasped in his shirt again. But this time they were pulling the garment up, restlessly reaching for more, until finally they fell on the tight, warm skin of his back.

The muscles flexed beneath her hands, alive and strong and warm, begging for more exposure. She skimmed her fingers along his sides to his abdomen and heard the rasp of his excitement against her lips.

That was her undoing. Desperately needing more, she fumbled with his buttons. He wrenched back for a moment, all but ripped the shirt from his body and tossed it to the bed.

In a moment his arms were around her again, and now she could feel the overwhelming strength of his torso against her. His arms, strong and warm and eager, encircled her waist, and through the faded fabric of his jeans and her shorts, she could feel the heat of his arousal.

Her hands skimmed downward, touched his waistband and rushed lower, over the hard curve of his buttocks.

He pulled her closer until she was straddling his thigh. He kissed her throat, his lips hot and demanding and hungry. She arched into him, breathing hard as his kisses dipped lower.

Blood pounded in her ears. Her skin burned where he touched her. His kisses slipped onto the high portion of her breasts, and suddenly his tongue found her nipple through her shirt.

Blood rushed to a thousand unsuspecting places. She heard herself gasp. But the sound seemed to come from far away, and then, like an overcooked noodle, she suddenly went limp.

“O’Shay?”

She heard his voice and tried to rouse herself, but everyhing seemed vague and foggy as she slumped in his arms.

“O’Shay! Geez!” he said and half carried, half dragged er to bed.

It felt soft and unsubstantial beneath her back. And the eiling, when she looked up, seemed to waver slightly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” Her voice sounded funny. “Yeah, I’m fine. Does your ceiling always wiggle like that?”

“Stay right there. I’ll get you something.”

He was back in a moment. She felt the mattress dip as he settled onto it. “Drink this.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah. Drink it,” he said, propping her up slightly.

She took a sip of orange juice, waited a second, then took another. He eased her back to the mattress.

The world stabilized a little. She managed to focus on his face.

“What happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know.” She still felt as if she were in another dimension.

“Have you fainted before?”

“I didn’t faint” She was suddenly, and quite forcefully, offended. “I’m a bodyguard. Bodyguards don’t faint.”

He remained silent for a moment “Okay. Have you fallen asleep while standing up before?”

She snorted and tried to sit up. He pushed her back down and stared at her from inches away.

His chest was still bare. Brenna noticed that with only slight heart palpitations and a little hyperventilating. She forced her gaze away.

The silence was heavy, his attention impossible to ignore. She turned her eyes back to his, and noticed with scathing heat that he was grinning.

“I’m flattered,” he said.

For a moment she couldn’t talk, then, “Get off me,” she said, pushing him away.

He didn’t budge an inch. In fact, all she achieved was to press her palm against the heat of his mounded chest. Blood started pounding again in unlikely places. She yanked her hand away.

“You like me,” he said.

“Get the hell off me.”

His grin increased. “Why didn’t you say so?”

“Get off me, you big lug!” she demanded, and used her
knee to pry him away from her. In a moment she had gained enough space to sit up.

He lay on his side, propped up on his elbow, with that infuriating grin still plastered on his face.

“It’s not you!” she snapped.

“It’s either me or you’re pregnant,” he said and eyed her belly.

She snorted “I’d
rather
be pregnant,” she said, and reached for the orange juice he’d left on the nightstand.

“But you’re not,” he said.

“Of course I’m not. I’m just…” So embarrassed she’d like to crawl under the bed. It was true, she didn’t have a lot of experience with men, but this was ridiculous. So what if he was Nathan Fox? So what if he was famous worldwide, deadly charming, and so good-looking it made her teeth ache? “My blood sugar’s a little low. That’s all.”

“Really?” His grin broadened, plainly indicating he didn’t believe a word of it “Better drink up then.”

She did so, though it pained her to take his suggestion. Then she thumped the glass back onto his nightstand. “I’ll see you back to the hotel, Fox,” she said, preparing to rise.

He snagged her arm. “We could stay here. I’m willing to share my bed.”

She glared at him. “We could eat live slugs too, but I’d rather not.”

“You like me, B. T. O’Shay. Don’t you make me kiss you to prove it,” he warned.

She felt her hair go limp as she crouched back into the pillows.

He skimmed his fingers up her bare calf.

“I do not like you,” she managed, but her words were whispered.

“Then you lust after me.” His fingers did demonic things to her calf. “I think I like that even better.”