by Cindy Kirk
For now anyway.
Someone obviously knew something that could turn this young woman’s life upside down. Had she dabbled in drugs and sex? Maybe even had some brushes with the law?
His initial run on her hadn’t turned up anything but whatever her secret was, he’d discover it. Whether she wanted him to or not.
“Here he is.” The door swung open and Meg entered the room with a large dark-haired mountain of a man at her side. “He’s perfect, don’t you think?”
Sara’s mouth went dry and her heart picked up speed. It took all her strength to pull her gaze from his.
Perfect?
Sara had always used that word to describe James—James, who was tall, blond and beautiful. With compelling gray eyes, firm features and a confident set of his shoulders, her publicist garnered admiring glances wherever they went. His hair was always cut in the latest style and his clothing choices complemented his conservative nature. Thanks to regular workouts in a local gym, James’s body was well toned but not overly muscular.
But the man before her was anything but perfect. He looked like a refugee from a Harley-Davidson rally, with his burgundy T-shirt, hair past his shoulders and a barbed-wire tattoo encircling his right bicep. Standing at least six foot two, he may have been the same height as James, but he dwarfed the man in build. Crow’s chest was broad and his jeans molded against a pair of muscular thighs. If he wasn’t a bodybuilder, he should have been.
Sara lifted her gaze and found him staring. Amusement flickered in his eyes and she knew he’d seen where her gaze had been focused.
She shifted her attention to his arm. “I’ve never seen the appeal of tattoos.”
He raised one dark brow.
Sara lifted her chin. She’d seen his type before…lived with his type before. “What can I say? I don’t like tattoos.”
And I don’t like you.
“Don’t get one, then,” he said with a careless shrug.
And Meg wanted this man to stay?
“Meg, why don’t you show Mr.…?” Sara waved her hand as if his name was too inconsequential to remember.
“Crow,” he volunteered, that infuriating self-satisfied smile still lingering on his lips.
“Mr. Crow around the place.” Sara slanted a sideways glance at James. Through all this he’d remained silent. But he didn’t need to say a word. The look of disapproval on his face said it all. “James and I are going out to dinner. We can talk about this bodyguard thing when—”
“For starters,” Crow interrupted. “From now on, where you go, I go.”
“I don’t think—”
“It’ll take me only a few minutes to settle in. My suitcase is in the hall. If you’ll show me to your bedroom…”
“My bedroom?” Sara sat up straight in the chair. “Why in the world would you need to see my bedroom?”
Crow heaved an exasperated sigh. “Because that’s where I’ll be sleeping.”
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