The Bodyguard's Baby (Billionaire Bodyguard Series) Page 5

  “I know. I just liked the way you said that. It makes me feel better about everything.”

  “You’ve been so stressed about the baby stuff, since the week after I moved in with you. Sometimes I give you grief about small crap just to help you let off steam.”

  Her chin tipped up and their eyes met. “You do?”

  “Yeah.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “You have a short temper, but once you get it out of your system you’re back to the girl I met at Devon and Trey’s Halloween party.”

  Suddenly she sat up, her face red, her features stern. “Are you saying you deliberately bait me? Just to get a reaction?”

  He held up his hand. “That’s not what I meant—”

  “I guess you stick around for your own amusement. No surprise,” she said acidly. “Since you’ve been cloistered here day and night, you never go out. You barely watch TV. You exercise and read. That’s it. You have no life and nothing to entertain you. So why not take out your frustration on the closest target?”

  How had their discussion veered so off track? “Hold on, Lindsey.”

  “I’m sick of being your entertainment. Just go out sometime. Meet a woman. Screw your brains out. Find a girlfriend. Maybe then you’ll get off my back.”

  Darting away, she disappeared up the staircase, stomping to her room then slamming the door.

  What the hell? His shoulders sank.

  Eyes pinched at the corners, he stared unblinking into the fire until his retinas hurt. “Because the only woman I want to be with is you.”

  Chapter 4

  Wide awake the next morning, having barely slept at all the night before after Lindsey laid her head in his lap and then falsely accused him of baiting her for his entertainment, Slone tucked his arm behind his head. He watched shadows shift across the ceiling above him as the sun rose.

  He had to find a way to let Lindsey go.

  Any thoughts he’d entertained about being her man, he needed to bury. Deep down. They could keep company with the rest of his disappointments in the bottomless pit he called a soul.

  Obviously she wasn’t interested in a relationship, or him. Hell, she wanted to get pregnant by a completely stranger. That advertised: “Don’t even think about it, douche bag. I’m off limits. You’ll only complicate my life. Keep your distance, and I’ll keep mine.” He could almost hear the words falling from her lips.

  Problem was, he didn’t have a high success rate when it came to letting go.

  Doing something he hadn’t done in a long time, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and padded to the old trunk that sat under the smaller of the two windows in his bedroom. He brushed aside the brown suede curtains Lindsey had picked out, and opened the heavy lid. The hinges squeaked in protest.

  According to Uncle Jimmy, this trunk had sailed from Ireland across the Atlantic to America, finding itself in the back hill woodlands of Kentucky, where his family had lived and made moonshine for eight generations. Though the Mason-Dixon Line might’ve run through his backyard, he might as well have grown up in the Deep South. He came from a long line of drunks, lawbreakers, rednecks, and fighting Irish. Fortunately, his mother and aunts and uncles had mostly broken that illustrious chain of his ancestry, raising him, his half-brother, his half-sister, and their cousins with open minds, better manners, and unquestioned loyalty to their family and country.

  In the summers Uncle Jimmy still ran the moonshine distillery out yonder in the woods at an undisclosed location. Uncle Jimmy was also a little addled in the brain and was missing at least half his teeth. But damn could that man tell a tall tale. Half of Slone’s material he used to keep up morale and get his team laughing had come from his infamous Uncle Jimmy. They included countless stories that started with, “This one time in ’Nam,” referring to his draft into the Vietnam War. The way he said it, ’Nam rhymed with ham.

  Reaching into the trunk, Slone withdrew a batch of letters. Some from Mom, a dozen or more from his half-brother James, and two from Adele. All were precious, two were heartbreaking. They offered the only remaining connection he had with his family.

  When he scanned the first from James, revealing his brother’s enthusiasm and praise of Slone’s heroism and military adventures, Slone found his eyes prickling at the corners, his vision blurring, his chest aching. If only he’d written back and told James not to enlist. The heroism his brother admired so much came at a price, and James had paid the ultimate one.

  Slone released the letter. It drifted down onto the stack like the last fall leaf before winter. He pinched the bridge of his nose until the dampness went away, requiring more effort than he expected.

  Then, for added torture, he picked up one of two letters from Adele. A glossy professional photo dropped out of the folded page. He held it reverently at the edges to keep his fingerprints from messing up the pristine finish.

  The photo captured a moment of pure happiness and endless possibilities frozen in time. James held his arm around his wife Adele, the two smiling with undiminished joy. Perched on Adele’s knee was a drooling, grinning six-month-old, with chipmunk cheeks and huge, innocent gray-blue eyes just like her daddy’s. Baby Grace.

  Pulling in a heavy breath, he turned the picture over. The message scrawled on the back in permanent blue ink ravaged him every time. See what you took from us?

  As his fingers shook, a blast of emotion exploded n his chest. He didn’t need to read Adele’s letter. The words were branded into his mind. Angry, hateful, broken hearted, accusatory words she’d lobbed against Slone. And he deserved every one of them. He hadn’t encouraged James to join the Marines, but he hadn’t discouraged his brother either. He regretted that every since day of his life that he continued to breathe, while his brother lay six feet in the ground.

  Breathing deep, he shook his head to clear it. The memory reminded him it was the end of the month, time to send another check to Adele.

  Behind him the knob of his door turned. Lindsey. Shit. He shoved the letters and photo back into the trunk and slammed the lid right as she walked in.

  “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

  “No,” he said with curt irritation. “But knocking before you barge into someone’s room is a decent gesture.”

  “I was worried about you.” She tugged the turban-shaped towel from her head, the wet dark blonde layers falling around her face. “You always get into the shower before me. I’m just making sure you’re okay.”

  “Fine,” he said through a tight jaw. He narrowed his eyes at her. Don’t sit on my bed, Lindsey. Don’t sit on the—

  Damn.

  She bounced down onto the edge of his mattress, drying the ends of her hair with the towel. “Listen, I want to apologize for last night.”

  “Don’t.”

  “I need to.”

  “Not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is,” she said firmly. “While I was showering, it gave me time to think.”

  The image of her naked body covered in water, surrounded by steam, gave him an instant hard-on. He swallowed a groan.

  “I realized you’re right.”

  “Probably.”

  She snorted. “At least let me finish. You were right about you being the only person I interact with, so you see the good and the grumpier sides of me, and I’m sorry I’ve been such awful company.”

  “You’re going through a lot.” He couldn’t look at her on his bed without wanting to lay her down on it and kiss her from her lips to her toes. Glancing around for something else to occupy his attention, he went around his bedroom picking up dirty socks and clothes, tossing them into the laundry basket in his closet.

  Meanwhile, she talked and dried her hair, oblivious to how much she affected him. How desperately he wanted to be wrapped in her softness to blunt the sharp edges of his secret pain. “I texted Kylie,” she said, “and my sister invited us over to Cade’s penthouse for dinner tonight.”

  “Sure. Whatever you want.”

  “Before that, I thoug
ht we could get out of the house for awhile. Just you and me.”

  He paused. “And do what?”

  “Well, there’s an ice skating rink about twenty minutes away. Since we’re stuck with each other, we might as well enjoy ourselves.”

  He could think of better ways to enjoy themselves. He shot a glance at his rumpled sheets. A moan slipped out and he covered it with a cough. “Yeah, we could use some fresh air. Have you ice skated before?”

  She shrugged. “No, there’s no ice in Las Vegas. But how hard could it be?”

  Now this could offer some serious entertainment. He smothered a grin. “Right. How hard could it be?”

  Forty-five minutes later, he found the day turning out to be far more enjoyable than he’d expected. He discovered plenty of built-in excuses to keep his hands on her at all times, since she fell against him every other glide.

  This was by far one of the best days he’d had in ages. He soaked in every second of it.

  They managed one whole lap around the ice skating rink about every ten minutes. He found her frustration endearing, and he couldn’t stop smiling. A foreign sensation he embraced without question.

  A quarter of the way through their third lap she fell for the hundredth time, and he scooped her up before she hit the ice. She was cute even when she scowled, like she was doing right now.

  “This is nothing like roller skating,” she mumbled, her knees knocking as she fought to keep upright with his help.

  “Two skinny blades versus eight chunky wheels. You do the math.”

  “This was a stupid idea.”

  He grinned. “I’m having a great time.”

  She relaxed a little in his grasp. “How did you learn to ice skate?”

  “My Uncle Jimmy had a pond out back of his house. One year for Christmas, Santa brought all us kids a pair of ice skates. I think old St. Nick was in collusion with our parents, because that winter ended up with record-breaking cold temperatures, and we skated on that pond for hours. Sometimes we’d come back and find the grownups had locked the doors.”

  She blinked, appalled. “That’s child endangerment.”

  He shrugged. “They left a thermos of hot cocoa, mugs, and bags of marshmallows out of us. We were happy campers.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Not much else to do during winter in backwoods, small-town Kentucky. Ice skating kept us out of trouble when we weren’t snowshoeing or hunting.” He winked. “The adults eventually let us back in around dusk, and we warmed up by the fire while Uncle Jimmy told stories of winters when he was a kid.”

  “Let me guess,” she said with humor in her eyes. “Your uncle had to walk to school barefoot in the snow, uphill both ways.”

  “Yep. He battled through miles of briar patches, and outran a few bears while he was at it.”

  “Quite the busy guy. God, I miss family gatherings,” she whispered.

  “Me too.” He suddenly realized he’d shared more than he meant to, and changed the subject. “Listen, don’t lock your knees, Lindsey. It’s like when you’re lifting weights, you want to let your muscles do the work, not your joints.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Do I look like I lift weights?”

  Oh, hell. He’d talked himself into one of those traps women set that guys hated. No matter what he said, it would come back to bite him. Shrugging, he smiled and replied honestly. “I think you look perfect.”

  She rolled her eyes, but a little smile curved the edges of her lips.

  Inwardly he breathed a sigh of relief. Well, he had told her the truth. Her lush body felt like the perfect fit in his arms. Even though she wore a puffy coat, and had on an insulated leather jacket, each time he caught her waist, the shelf of her ample breasts rested beautifully on his forearms. She was curvy in all the right places, sexy as hell, and she completely turned him on. He was grateful he’d worn jeans, and that his bottom of his coat stopped below his waist.

  “Remember to keep your knees slightly bent,” he said, returning to his instruction. “Now, use the toe of your left skate to push off and glide with your right.”

  She seized his wrists. “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can. I’ve got you.”

  “You promise?”

  A warm sensation curled in his chest. “I promise. Just try it. I won’t let you fall.”

  For some reason she turned her face to look up at him. Their gazes locked for a timeless moment.

  A series of emotions played out in her huge, stunning eyes. He found it hard to breathe.

  His throat worked as he swallowed. “I’m not going anywhere,” he vowed. “Come on, you can do this. A little faith goes a long way.”

  She faced front. “Here goes nothing.”

  Following his directions, she dug the toe of her left blade into the ice and coasted on the right a good five feet all on her own. He never had a doubt.

  “Oh, my God, I did it!” Her excited squeal rang across the rink.

  He grinned proudly. “Try it again. I’m right behind you.”

  More than succeeding, she actually switched from skate to skate, gliding along like a champ, her arms spread eagle. “Check me out!”

  “Oh, I am,” he said low, his eyes glued to her juicy backside.

  “Are you even watching me?” she demanded.

  “Can’t look away,” he assured.

  Then he saw her wobble. He quickly skated forward and held out his arms just as her right skate slid out from under her.

  “Shoot. I almost had it.”

  “You did have it. Nice job.”

  “Oh, please,” she scoffed. “Stephen Hawking could ice skate better than me.”

  He snorted. “I wouldn’t go that far, but you did make progress.”

  “True.” She sighed and wiped her forehead. “A little progress, I guess. Hey, want to go get ice cream at the concession stand?”

  He chuckled at her roundabout way of saying she was done. “Sure. Want to try skating back to the exit on your own?”

  “No.” She clamped her hands down on his, ensuring he didn’t let go.

  He muffled a laugh. “Okay, we’ll take it slow and steady.”

  “I like it better that way.”

  Though he knew he shouldn’t, he dipped his head and his lips brushed her ear. “Then I’ll do it however you want me to.”

  Shock sizzled through him when she laced her fingers through his. But her sultry tone stunned him even more. “Are you always this considerate of a woman’s needs?”

  Strategically he skimmed his lips along her jaw. “Try me and find out.”

  She sucked in a breath, letting him draw her back against him, so she understood the full arousing impact of her words. “You’re very convincing,” she whispered.

  “I’m just getting started,” he said in a low growl of promise.

  Her chest rose and fell rapidly against his forearms. “Oh, wow.”

  Two teenage boys whizzed past them. One called out, “Get a room.”

  Slone grinned and released her. Then he guided her toward the rink’s exit.

  As she hobbled toward a bench to remove her ice skates, she looked a little dazed, her eyes glassy, her lips parted. She landed hard on the wooden plank. He knelt and untied her laces, his gaze fixed on her face, enjoying that he’d pierced her awareness so profoundly.

  Then she blushed. “Umm…did we really just say those things to each other?”

  “Yes,” he replied evenly. “Is that a problem.”

  “No…yes. I should say yes. Right?”

  “Not if you don’t mean it.” He removed her left skate and started untying the right. “And I kind of hope you meant it.”

  Her blush deepened, reaching the honey-blonde roots of her hair. “You do?”

  “Hell yes, I do.” He abandoned her laces, abandoned his pride, and cupped her face in his hands. “Because I want you, too.”

  Lowering his mouth, he sealed his lips over hers.

  Chapter 5

  W
ith Slone’s lips pressed to hers, Lindsey’s lashes drifted shut and she savored the moment. God, she’d wanted—no, needed—this.

  As if her hormones had achieved their goal, her edginess relaxed away.

  While he cupped her chin, his other palm traced up and down her spine, warm and soothing. This felt so right, so easy. Their mouths caressed each other’s as though his lips had always belonged to her.

  Languid sensation spilled through her veins. A gentle urgency pushed her closer to him. His lips parted and their tongues met in a slow glide of exploration. He captured her upper lip, then her lower lip. The tip of his tongue flicked the plump flesh before he drew back, staring at her through heavy lids.

  A grin of satisfaction tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  Soft warmth spread through her, and her smile reflected her own pleasure at the intimate connection they’d created. She sighed wistfully. “That was so…nice.”

  A shiver chased across his big shoulders. He dipped his chin in confirmation. Their gazes held for a long moment. “Next time it’ll be more naughty than nice. I had to keep it PG, since there’s a five year old staring at us.”

  Blinking, she glanced to her left and found two huge brown eyes fastened on them. A giggle escaped her. She pressed her fingers to her lips, where a few tingles still lingered. “How about that ice cream?”

  “Coming right up.”

  He finished unlacing her right skate and she slipped on her boots. She waited while he did the same. They dropped off the rented skates and waited in line for ice cream.

  Now that their lovely stolen moment had ended, reality came charging in like a bullet train. Yes, their kiss had been amazing, filling all the empty aching places inside her. But this wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen.

  Deeply troubled, she frowned.

  In her mind she’d had it all worked out. She’d had a plan. And while she appreciated spontaneity, a relationship with Slone did not fit into the picture she’d painted in her mind of the next ten months. It was like she’d already completed a complex puzzle, all perfectly aligned in place, and he’d suddenly handed her another piece that didn’t belong to the puzzle she’d finished. She wanted him to fit in there somewhere, but it just couldn’t happen unless she took the whole thing apart and started over.