Rock the Bodyguard

by Loki Renard

  “Miss Raine is tired after her performance,” Miles explained.

  “Oh sure!” Reggie winked and drew a small case out of his pocket. “I’ve got something to wake you up.”

  “If that’s what I think it is,” Miles said before Reggie could get the case open, “then I suggest you get it out of here immediately.” He turned a hard gaze on Cash. “And I hope to high heaven you are not in the habit of indulging in such things.”

  “I’m not,” she said, “but I could if I wanted to.”

  Miles said nothing, but his jaw tightened. Cash sensed she was getting close to a line she didn’t want to be close to. Reggie had already slipped the case back into his pocket. He obviously had no desire to tangle with Miles either. He cringed visibly when the big bodyguard put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Let’s leave Miss Raine to get dressed, shall we?” Miles gave Cash a look that made her tingle. “I’ll be out here when you’re ready.”

  The door closed and Cash was left alone, looking at her tearful, pouting face in the mirror. She felt a little like she was being ordered home to bed. It had been a very long time since anybody had told her what to do. Her family had never been big on a sense of order, and as she’d been performing in clubs since she was fifteen, late nights had become par for the course. Being packed off home at two in the morning, it was a little like being sent to bed without dinner.

  She found herself smiling, a little secret smile that welled up completely unbidden. Miles Rock was an attractive man, no doubt about that. He was a little older, but Cash was quite used to attention from older men. Men more than twice Miles’ age thought nothing of hitting on her from time to time.

  Cash toyed with a sponge and watched herself in the mirror. Miles would probably not approve of the thoughts she was having, just like he didn’t approve of those stupid lyrics the label had her sing. He was so old fashioned, so charming, so… different.

  Quietly thrilled at the idea of going home with the handsome bodyguard, Cash shed her robe and began to get dressed. When she emerged from her dressing room she looked nothing like her star self. All her make up was gone, save a little mascara and gloss to keep herself presentable. Her natural hair was tied back in a simple ponytail. She’d swapped skintight booty shorts for sweatpants and a hooded top.

  “Okay,” she said with a small, slightly apologetic smile, “take me home.”

  “Right this way, Miss Raine,” Miles said, ushering her through the venue’s back passages. He didn’t mention her earlier outburst, nor did he seem upset by it.

  “The fans are going to be disappointed,” she murmured as they walked.

  He cast a look at her, his thick brow slashing across tan skin. God, he was gorgeous. “You just danced for them for three straight hours, I think they’ll understand if you get some sleep.”

  “I usually sign autographs.”

  “You can sign some tomorrow. You’re all worn out tonight.” Miles pushed through the exit and used his body to block Cash from the scattered gawkers who were milling about. The car was waiting and they made an easy exit.

  “I’m sorry I was rude to you,” Cash said as they pulled away. “I was just so wired from the show.”

  “Quite alright,” Miles said, polite as ever.

  She sat back and put her feet up on the limo seat, watching him curiously. “Is it?”

  His eyes slid over to her and he looked at her long and hard before replying. “What is it you’re asking me, Miss Raine?”

  Cash felt a little thrill of excitement. Something told her that she was toying with a tiger. Miles wasn’t anything like most of the people in the entertainment business; he wasn’t all hyped up and trying to get into her pants. He was refined and restrained and he actually said what was on his mind rather than blowing smoke up her ass like everyone else did.

  “Nothing, I guess,” she smiled to herself and restrained a giggle. She really was tired. With the motion of the car, and the feeling of security Miles gave her, she was soon dozing off.

  It felt like only a minute later that he was shaking her awake. “Miss Raine… Miss Raine, we’re home.”

  Cash’s eyes fluttered open and she looked into Miles’ face. “Damn,” she said. “You look tired, you should get some rest.”

  He almost smiled as he moved back out of her personal space. “I’ll sleep when you’re asleep.”

  She stretched. “Why?”

  “Because I can’t do much for you if I’m asleep and you’re running around town.”

  Cash couldn’t help the grin that rose to her face. So he was trying to get her to bed, probably because he wanted to go to bed himself. And there would be nothing to stop her sneaking out later. The idea of sneaking out of her own hotel room gave her another little frisson of excitement.

  “Well,” she said, sliding toward the car door. “I suppose you have to go off duty sometime.”

  “Miss Raine.”

  His deep voice made her turn her head back to him. “Yeah?”

  He fixed her with one of those looks that was hard to tear her eyes away from. “I take my job very seriously, Miss Raine. I know there are security companies who will pick you up and drop you off and call it a day, but that isn’t the role I’m playing here. Do you understand?”

  She cocked her head, trying to work out if he was angry. He didn’t seem angry, just stern and serious. Something in his gaze made her squirm on the seat. She felt warm and prickly for a reason she couldn’t quite place. Guilt. That was it, he was making her feel guilty for even having considered sneaking out – but how had he known? Was he some kind of mind reader?

  “And if I do want some time on my own? What if I have a date? Will you be lurking in the closet?” She’d meant to sound teasing, but she sounded a little petulant, a little churlish.

  “Not the closet. I prefer the crawl space,” Miles deadpanned.

  She laughed and the tension was broken. Still, for a reason she couldn’t quite explain, she felt a nervous tingle as she slipped out of the limo and into the quiet of the night. The hotel had a secure entrance for personages of her stature so there were no screaming fans when she disembarked. Miles exited the limo behind her and for a moment she felt him as just a presence in the night, tall, strong, comforting.

  “Are you ready to retire for the evening, Miss Raine?”

  “Retire for the evening,” she repeated his words. “You mean go to bed?” She turned and looked up at him with a playful smile on her face. “It’s been a long time since anyone sent me to bed.”

  “I’m not sending you to bed… yet,” he said, giving her another one of those stern looks. He seemed to have an infinite supply of them.

  She gave him an arch look as she replied. “Does that imply you will? Without dinner? Or with a spanking?”

  He looked down at her and spoke quite matter of factly. “Miss Raine, though you are undeniably in need of a spanking, for the moment I think it best if you take yourself to bed before it becomes a necessity this evening.”

  The flirtatious grin froze on her face. “W… what?”

  “I said I think you should go to bed.”

  “Before that…”

  She thought he might back down from what he’d said, but he repeated it without hesitation and with elaboration. “You’re in great need of a good spanking, Miss Raine.”

  “But…” her face contorted, “I’m practically perfect! I don’t have any DUI’s, the paparazzi don’t take pictures of me without my panties on…”

  “That’s a very low bar you’re setting yourself, Miss Raine,” he interrupted. “But just because you’re not in the last few inches of a downward spiral, it doesn’t mean you couldn’t do with a spanking. Discipline isn’t always about punishment.”

  Cash didn’t fully understand what Miles meant, but she knew it was making her stomach churn and quiver.

  “Maybe I should go to bed,” she said, lowering her eyes. She was confused and a little sad that Miles didn’t seem to approve o
f her. She already liked him very much, but he was all stern looks and now this little uninvited lecture. She lowered her eyes, realizing she probably wasn’t his type. Men like Miles Rock liked nice girls, girls who knitted and baked and knew their place, not girls like her, who went out on stage and danced dirty for all the world to see. Feeling embarrassed, and more than a little dejected, Cash turned and moped toward the hotel.

  Chapter Two

  Cash and Miles spoke little on their way up to the suite. As the doors closed, Cash leaned against the wall. It made no sense, she’d just been in front of thousands of people who loved her, loved her music, screamed with approval at her every move and now one man, one man she barely knew, raised his brow at her and said she needed discipline and she was in the depths of despair. The ride seemed to drag on forever and she felt as if she could hardly breathe in the small space, the space that seemed to be entirely made up of him.

  Seemingly unaffected by the tension Cash was feeling between them, Miles stepped off the elevator when it reached its destination, escorted her into the extensive suite, did a sweep of her bedroom and then nodded.

  “Good night, Miss Raine. I’ll be in the far room if you need me.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, if I need someone to tell me how terrible I am,” she said, brushing past him.

  “Hey.” His large palm pressed against the door as she tried to close it. He gave her a look that was hard to fathom, somewhere between a frown and an expression of intense boredom. “I didn’t say you were terrible.”

  “You said my lyrics were suggestive and that I need discipline.”

  He met her frustrated gaze unblinkingly. “They are, and you do.”

  “Well I’ll tell you something, Mr. Rock,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height, which was a good foot and a half shorter than his. “I am very disciplined. I work very hard and my fans love what I do. If you don’t approve, you can take your opinions and shove them up your…” she didn’t finish the sentence, she didn’t need to, he knew what she meant.

  Miles’ lips thinned. “You’ve misunderstood me, Miss Raine.”

  “I don’t care,” she said. “I don’t want to hear what you think of me or my lyrics.”

  “You’re tired, Miss Raine, get some sleep.”

  “Don’t tell me what to do!” She heard her voice rising to a pitch as her annoyance grew out of all proportion.

  “You’re very tired,” he said, his voice softening, “and you’re going to say and do things you’ll regret if you keep talking. Now go to bed, sweetheart.”

  Cash drew in her breath in a high-pitched squeak. Why wasn’t he getting angry? Why wasn’t he yelling back? Why was he calling her sweetheart? She let the breath out, deflating with it.

  “Fine,” she said. “I’m going to get some sleep.”

  “Good night, Miss Raine,” Miles said, moving his hand so she could close the door. She pressed it shut and leaned back against it, wiping away tears that sprang to her eyes completely unbidden. She didn’t know why she was crying. Miles was probably right; she was probably just tired.

  *

  Sweat dripped from every pore of Cash’s body as she leaped and twirled in time with the music. It was five in the morning and it was still dark outside but she’d been dancing for half an hour already. She’d slept a little, but woken with a song in her head. It had taken a few minutes to transcribe the lyrics that had come to her in her sleep and then she’d just had to dance. It wasn’t just that she wanted to practice, it was a physical need to express herself through movement, to shake off some of the stress.

  Fortunately, the suite that the label was putting her up in contained a small dance studio complete with a custom made sprung floor. The back wall was mirrored and the front was tempered glass. The combined effect of the materials was to make her feel as if she were dancing alone in a gargantuan space. In the middle of it, her body moved with a rhythm all of its own, responding to the music in a way she didn’t even try to consciously control.

  There was freedom in the dance; there was possibility in it. It was her dancing that had originally catapulted her to fame and it was her dancing that reminded her why she withstood all the pressures that came with that fame. The crowds were awe-inspiring, the money was nice, but when all was said and done, it was the dance that propelled her, that soothed her. They could take it all away. They could take the fame and the crowds and the money away and she would still have the dance.

  For the longest time, she didn’t notice the figure watching her. When she did spot the tall, broad shouldered man giving her a look she could only describe as being one of disbelief, she waved him away and continued on. There was no room for anyone else in the dance; this was her time, her time free from judgment and onlookers. There was no time to answer to anyone else, to stop and explain. The dance was its own explanation.

  When she was all danced out some time later she found Miles sitting on the balcony with a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper. It was still early and the halo of sleepy somnolence remained in the liquid rays of early morning light. The beach beyond the hotel was quiet, populated with one or two hopeful surfers and runners, but otherwise still, save for the crashing of the waves.

  She paused inside the suite for a moment, just taking him in. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and black slacks. He looked strong and stoic, sitting so still he could have been a statue but for the light breeze ruffling his dark hair. Somehow, in spite of being dressed in a thoroughly generic and understated manner, Miles was managing to look out of place, even in a town where strong, handsome men were a dime a dozen. She gazed at his profile, wondering if it was something about his face. His brow was strong, but not overly pronounced, his cheekbones were solid and his jaw was square and hard. He’d have made a good lead in an action movie, though he probably would be far too dignified to go through all the nonsense associated with being an actor. No, Miles was a man rooted strongly in reality, she could tell that already. He wasn’t impressed by all the glitz and glamor of Los Angeles – and as far as she could tell, that included her too.

  “Hey,” she said, sipping at some cucumber water as she stepped out onto the balcony.

  Miles looked up from his newspaper. “Hello Miss Raine.” Somehow he managed to sound stern, even though he was engaging in pleasantries. He didn’t return her smile and she wondered if he was mad at her.

  “Did I wake you?”

  He pushed his sleeve back and looked at the watch on his wrist. “Three hours sleep. You have a grueling schedule, Miss Raine.”

  She shrugged. “I like to dance.”

  He gave her a keen look that seemed to go right through her. “Trouble sleeping?”

  “I’ll sleep when I’m dead,” she laughed, avoiding the question. Yes, she had trouble sleeping. The European tour was set to start in less than a week and she was about to go overseas for the first time in her life. Butterflies began massing in her stomach whenever she thought about it.

  Accepting her flippant response, Miles nodded and returned his gaze to his newspaper. Almost immediately, Cash went from feeling interrogated to ignored. She sat down in the chair opposite and stared at him, willing him to pay attention to her again. Eventually he folded his newspaper down and looked over it. “Can I help you, Miss Raine?”

  “You’re up early too.”

  “I heard a noise,” Miles explained. “It turned out to be a one woman dance party.”

  Cash grinned. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize, Miss Raine, it would appear to be a hazard of the job.” He was still talking in that taut, reserved tone, the one that left her wondering what he was actually thinking. Cash was used to more effusive entertainment types, which made Miles even more of a curiosity.

  “Are you always this polite?”

  “I try to be,” Miles said, putting his newspaper down entirely and finally endowing her with his full attention. “It’s a professional courtesy.”

  “Is it also profe
ssional courtesy to tell people they deserve…” she trailed off. She’d started off strong, with no idea that she’d be thoroughly unable to finish the sentence with his dark eyes trained on her. The word ‘spanking’ just died on her lips before she could say it. “Is it professional to talk to me like you did last night?”

  He caught her meaning immediately. “It wasn’t so much last night as a few hours ago,” he replied. “But that was more personal than professional.”

  “A personal courtesy?”

  His lip twitched. “Something like that.”

  “You’re the weirdest man I’ve ever met,” she declared.

  Miles smiled to himself as he folded his newspaper into a tidy rectangle. “I’m not surprised to hear that.”

  Cash grinned as she took the opening he’d left her. “Because you know you’re weird?”

  A curt shake of his head dashed her hopes for a point scored. “Because you’re not old enough to have met many people outside this fishbowl yet.”

  Cash felt heat suffuse her cheeks. Not old enough to have met many people? How… She spluttered inwardly, quite offended at the way he was brushing her off. “Don’t patronize me,” she said, “I’m old enough to have known plenty of men.”

  Miles glanced at her, then drained his coffee. “My apologies, Miss Raine.”

  It wasn’t a real apology. He was treating her like a silly kid, someone who had to be managed, but not someone to be respected. Cash narrowed her eyes as she poured herself some coffee. She was mad, and insulted. Just because she wasn’t fifty years old, he thought he could talk to her like some naive brat.

  “Can I help you with anything else, Miss Raine?” Miles asked the question as he stood up, his tall frame sending a shadow over the breakfast table.

  “No.” Cash showed him she could be just as curt as he.

  “Well, let me give you a little advice, personal, not professional…”

  “Yeah?” She glared up at him, not hiding her annoyance in the slightest.

  He looked at her coffee cup. “I suggest you refrain from drinking that and go back to bed. You have a big day ahead of you.”