Page 5
Story: Road Trip with Her Bodyguard
She snuggles into bed, then whispers, “Thank you, Dane. I really do feel safe with you.”
“Good. How do you take your coffee?”
“Just a bit of cream. Or black…whatever…”
She’s already drifting off. My hand lurches, wanting to brush back her hair. Wanting to tuck the blankets around her tighter. Wanting to share her bed so I could keep her warm and safe in my arms all night.
I’m going to protect this precious angel. Not just from the men who might be chasing her: I get the sense that I need to put some serious space between Jorie and her father so she can take a close look at her life and decide what she wants to be.
I saw the flicker of excitement in her eyes when I mentioned a road trip. She wants to see more of the world, I can tell.
Well, I’m going to show her everything I can.
3
JORIE
The smell of coffee pulls me awake slowly. I sit up, blinking as I look around the room. Everything is beige. The cheap green nature print…seriously, IknowI’ve seen it in my dentist’s waiting room too…isn’t really perking the place up very much.
I can hear the shower running in the bathroom. The memory of Dane looking so sexy while driving floods me with a fresh rush of desire. I’ve admired hot men before, but this feels…different. Like there’s already some kind of connection growing between us. We’re going to be in very close quarters for a few days – would pretending to be a couple perhaps strengthen that connection? Either way, it’s going to be an interesting thrill.
A slow tumble of dream images washes over me: Dane tucking me under his arm and hurrying me down the street. His eyes meeting mine as he slowly leans in for a kiss. His fingers through mine as he playfully tugs me toward the bed.
Geez. It’s probably bad to develop a huge crush on your bodyguard.
I quickly finger-comb my hair and take a few sips of coffee. Then I jump up, straighten the bed, and open my suitcase flatacross it. Do I even have anything with me that is road trip-appropriate?
Just as I’m digging through everything, Dane comes out wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans.
Oh. My.
My throat closes up, my gaze trailing around his chest, down to his chiseled abs and the lines over his hips that dip lower… I jerk when he catches me staring. A slight smirk plays across his lips, then he gives his head a shake, still toweling his hair dry.
“From the looks of your photos, you and your friends wear a lot of designer stuff.” He flops on his messy bed. “Are those black boots you were wearing yesterday comfortable?”
“Yes. That’s why I always wear them to concerts.”
“Good. Let’s take a look at the rest.”
We pull out one pair of black jeans and a sundress that would work. The rest is all casually expensive.
“You’d be beautiful no matter what you were wearing,” he says matter-of-factly. “But we’re driving across the country. You need to blend in a bit better.”
My cheeks flush, both from his compliment and my ostentatious wardrobe. “I’m so sorry. Mom buys me a ton of clothes. She hates for me to be seen in public wearing anything that isn’t, as she puts it,elevated.”
“No problem. I understand weird parents.”
Dane stares at me, and for a second, I think he’s ogling my breasts – which, strangely, I don’t mind. Then he measures my t-shirt from seam to seam across the shoulders using his arm as a ruler. He repeats the motion across the bottom, then vertically. Lastly, he measures the length of my legs by noting where my waist lands on his lower hip.
“What’s your shoe size?”
“Seven.”
“Got it. Shower, pack, and be ready to go in half an hour.”
“Sure.”
“Do not open that door foranyoneexcept me, not even if they say they’re a cop.”
“Good. How do you take your coffee?”
“Just a bit of cream. Or black…whatever…”
She’s already drifting off. My hand lurches, wanting to brush back her hair. Wanting to tuck the blankets around her tighter. Wanting to share her bed so I could keep her warm and safe in my arms all night.
I’m going to protect this precious angel. Not just from the men who might be chasing her: I get the sense that I need to put some serious space between Jorie and her father so she can take a close look at her life and decide what she wants to be.
I saw the flicker of excitement in her eyes when I mentioned a road trip. She wants to see more of the world, I can tell.
Well, I’m going to show her everything I can.
3
JORIE
The smell of coffee pulls me awake slowly. I sit up, blinking as I look around the room. Everything is beige. The cheap green nature print…seriously, IknowI’ve seen it in my dentist’s waiting room too…isn’t really perking the place up very much.
I can hear the shower running in the bathroom. The memory of Dane looking so sexy while driving floods me with a fresh rush of desire. I’ve admired hot men before, but this feels…different. Like there’s already some kind of connection growing between us. We’re going to be in very close quarters for a few days – would pretending to be a couple perhaps strengthen that connection? Either way, it’s going to be an interesting thrill.
A slow tumble of dream images washes over me: Dane tucking me under his arm and hurrying me down the street. His eyes meeting mine as he slowly leans in for a kiss. His fingers through mine as he playfully tugs me toward the bed.
Geez. It’s probably bad to develop a huge crush on your bodyguard.
I quickly finger-comb my hair and take a few sips of coffee. Then I jump up, straighten the bed, and open my suitcase flatacross it. Do I even have anything with me that is road trip-appropriate?
Just as I’m digging through everything, Dane comes out wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans.
Oh. My.
My throat closes up, my gaze trailing around his chest, down to his chiseled abs and the lines over his hips that dip lower… I jerk when he catches me staring. A slight smirk plays across his lips, then he gives his head a shake, still toweling his hair dry.
“From the looks of your photos, you and your friends wear a lot of designer stuff.” He flops on his messy bed. “Are those black boots you were wearing yesterday comfortable?”
“Yes. That’s why I always wear them to concerts.”
“Good. Let’s take a look at the rest.”
We pull out one pair of black jeans and a sundress that would work. The rest is all casually expensive.
“You’d be beautiful no matter what you were wearing,” he says matter-of-factly. “But we’re driving across the country. You need to blend in a bit better.”
My cheeks flush, both from his compliment and my ostentatious wardrobe. “I’m so sorry. Mom buys me a ton of clothes. She hates for me to be seen in public wearing anything that isn’t, as she puts it,elevated.”
“No problem. I understand weird parents.”
Dane stares at me, and for a second, I think he’s ogling my breasts – which, strangely, I don’t mind. Then he measures my t-shirt from seam to seam across the shoulders using his arm as a ruler. He repeats the motion across the bottom, then vertically. Lastly, he measures the length of my legs by noting where my waist lands on his lower hip.
“What’s your shoe size?”
“Seven.”
“Got it. Shower, pack, and be ready to go in half an hour.”
“Sure.”
“Do not open that door foranyoneexcept me, not even if they say they’re a cop.”