Page 7
Story: Road Trip with Her Bodyguard
“What’s your dream, Jorie? A career, or a calling?”
“You’re going to laugh.”
His smoldering dark eyes lock on mine. “Unless it’s stand-up comedy or clown school, I promise I won’t.”
“I’d like to be a masseuse.” Dane simply nods, clearly expecting me to continue. “For injuries, there’s a physical therapist. If people want to pamper themselves, there are fancy spas. But what about the average person who works on a computer all day, and just needs to be stretched back into line once in a while?”
“Huh.” Dane nods slowly.
“I wish massages were as normal and accepted as haircuts,” I shrug. “I’d love to be the bright point in a regular person’s day. Take the knots out of their shoulders, help them relax. A super mellow soundtrack and a lavender candle. Erase some of the physical damage of their hard work. You know what I mean?”
His fingers tighten around mine, and our knees brush under the table. “You are…nothing like I expected,” he finally says quietly.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good. Very good.” He releases my hand to sip his coffee. “Honestly? I expected a spoiled brat who would kick up a fuss because her plans were being ruined. A princess who wouldn’t wear anything but high heels and would take three hours to do her makeup.”
I almost choke on my coffee. “Oh! You’vemetmy mother.”
He laughs, his gaze wandering all over my body before settling back on my eyes. “But here you are, wearing that weirdly flattering t-shirt, happy to go with the flow…”
His fingers leave his coffee mug again to trail along my wrist, his thumb caressing my pulse point gently. “Andnowyou appear to have extremely realistic life goals? I have to say, Jorie, you’ve impressed me.”
My stomach does a slow backflip. He’s not looking at me like his father’s friend’s daughter that he has to babysit for over the next several days.
He’s looking at me as if he feels this strange, sensual connection as well.
And again, I say: Ohhh. Myyy.
4
DANE
Icouldn’t tell you when I’ve had a better breakfast. I think it’s mainly the company. Once we get chatting about music, movies, and – strangely – the best museum exhibits we’ve ever seen, the conversation simply flows.
Jorie has a unique perspective on many things, and her desire to learn is amazing. I wondered at first if the fact that she’s twenty-one and I’m thirty-three would be a problem, but she’s very well-read and well-educated. Grounded. She just happened to be born into an odd family. I know something about that myself.
We start driving west. About twenty minutes later she asks, “How far is Heartstone?”
“If I floored it and didn’t take breaks, just under nine hours. But we’re going to take our time and enjoy the day.”
She’s staring at me like I’m nuts. “Are you seriously okay driving that long?”
I chuckle. “Of course! I’m from a road trip family. We would always just pick somewhere bizarre and make a day of the trip itself. That’s the secret – you’re not driving to reach yourdestination as quickly as possible. The drive itself is the fun part.”
“Hmm.” She hesitates. “My father always has a driver, a private jet?—”
“A helicopter standing by?”
She laughs. “Well…yeah. He’s ridiculous.” Her face turns serious. “And it’s all for show. I swear, for every three dollars he makes, one is spent just demonstrating to everyone how rich he is.” I glance over as she shudders. “It’s so tacky it gives me the creeps.”
I ease up on the gas, giving a big rig more space to merge smoothly. “Yeah, I’ve read about your dad. Crazy tech this, companies merging and splitting and share prices that. Whatever. When it comes down to it, he must be up to something that’s a little off if assholes are threatening his family. And he’s so focused on his job that he needs to hire someoneelseto protect his daughter? That…doesn’t feel right.”
Wow.I look over, expecting to see Jorie wide-eyed and horrified. Instead, she’s laughing so hard she’s almost crying.
“I know I’m supposed to defend him,” she sputters, “but he’s beyond useless in the real world. He doesn’t even know how to put simple bookshelves together. His idea of helping was carrying the pieces up the stairs, then bringing me coffee and staying out of my way.”
My hand darts out to squeeze hers. “I like that you’re so practical.”
“You’re going to laugh.”
His smoldering dark eyes lock on mine. “Unless it’s stand-up comedy or clown school, I promise I won’t.”
“I’d like to be a masseuse.” Dane simply nods, clearly expecting me to continue. “For injuries, there’s a physical therapist. If people want to pamper themselves, there are fancy spas. But what about the average person who works on a computer all day, and just needs to be stretched back into line once in a while?”
“Huh.” Dane nods slowly.
“I wish massages were as normal and accepted as haircuts,” I shrug. “I’d love to be the bright point in a regular person’s day. Take the knots out of their shoulders, help them relax. A super mellow soundtrack and a lavender candle. Erase some of the physical damage of their hard work. You know what I mean?”
His fingers tighten around mine, and our knees brush under the table. “You are…nothing like I expected,” he finally says quietly.
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Good. Very good.” He releases my hand to sip his coffee. “Honestly? I expected a spoiled brat who would kick up a fuss because her plans were being ruined. A princess who wouldn’t wear anything but high heels and would take three hours to do her makeup.”
I almost choke on my coffee. “Oh! You’vemetmy mother.”
He laughs, his gaze wandering all over my body before settling back on my eyes. “But here you are, wearing that weirdly flattering t-shirt, happy to go with the flow…”
His fingers leave his coffee mug again to trail along my wrist, his thumb caressing my pulse point gently. “Andnowyou appear to have extremely realistic life goals? I have to say, Jorie, you’ve impressed me.”
My stomach does a slow backflip. He’s not looking at me like his father’s friend’s daughter that he has to babysit for over the next several days.
He’s looking at me as if he feels this strange, sensual connection as well.
And again, I say: Ohhh. Myyy.
4
DANE
Icouldn’t tell you when I’ve had a better breakfast. I think it’s mainly the company. Once we get chatting about music, movies, and – strangely – the best museum exhibits we’ve ever seen, the conversation simply flows.
Jorie has a unique perspective on many things, and her desire to learn is amazing. I wondered at first if the fact that she’s twenty-one and I’m thirty-three would be a problem, but she’s very well-read and well-educated. Grounded. She just happened to be born into an odd family. I know something about that myself.
We start driving west. About twenty minutes later she asks, “How far is Heartstone?”
“If I floored it and didn’t take breaks, just under nine hours. But we’re going to take our time and enjoy the day.”
She’s staring at me like I’m nuts. “Are you seriously okay driving that long?”
I chuckle. “Of course! I’m from a road trip family. We would always just pick somewhere bizarre and make a day of the trip itself. That’s the secret – you’re not driving to reach yourdestination as quickly as possible. The drive itself is the fun part.”
“Hmm.” She hesitates. “My father always has a driver, a private jet?—”
“A helicopter standing by?”
She laughs. “Well…yeah. He’s ridiculous.” Her face turns serious. “And it’s all for show. I swear, for every three dollars he makes, one is spent just demonstrating to everyone how rich he is.” I glance over as she shudders. “It’s so tacky it gives me the creeps.”
I ease up on the gas, giving a big rig more space to merge smoothly. “Yeah, I’ve read about your dad. Crazy tech this, companies merging and splitting and share prices that. Whatever. When it comes down to it, he must be up to something that’s a little off if assholes are threatening his family. And he’s so focused on his job that he needs to hire someoneelseto protect his daughter? That…doesn’t feel right.”
Wow.I look over, expecting to see Jorie wide-eyed and horrified. Instead, she’s laughing so hard she’s almost crying.
“I know I’m supposed to defend him,” she sputters, “but he’s beyond useless in the real world. He doesn’t even know how to put simple bookshelves together. His idea of helping was carrying the pieces up the stairs, then bringing me coffee and staying out of my way.”
My hand darts out to squeeze hers. “I like that you’re so practical.”