They reached Fort Worth by early evening, had a quick dinner and retired to the hotel.
THE FOLLOWING DAY FLEW BY. The Cowboys’ performance went without a hitch. Brenna escorted Nathan to his room, which looked perfectly safe. She turned to exit it, but he stood between her and the door, his arms crossed against his chest
“Ever dance?”
“What?” His words startled her. He had barely spoken to her for days on end, though she rarely left his side. She assured herself that it hadn’t bothered her.
“Do you ever go dancing?”
“I, um…” Why did he always make her feel like some teenage hick? “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“You should let the man lead sometimes.”
“What?”
“It might make it simpler if you’d let your date lead.”
She straightened, recognizing the anger in his eyes. “If you’ve got a problem with how I’m doing my job, Fox, spit it out, but I’d appreciate it if you’d leave my personal life alone.”
“Personal life?” He snorted and took a step forward. “I’m willing to bet you don’t have a personal life. When was the last time you went out?”
“Went out?” Already she felt backed against a wall, though she hadn’t moved.
“Yeah. On a date.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but he stopped her.
“You can’t count strapping on a black belt and punching guys in the face.”
“Oh.” She lifted her chin. “Well, that narrows it down considerably then, Fox. ‘Cause that’s what I do for fun.”
“I noticed.”
“Listen.” Anger was rising up in her. She’d been hired to do this job, and she was doing it damn well. “I didn’t ask you to run into that oversized Tennessee Neanderthal.”
“And I didn’t ask you to kick him in the head.”
“No, Sarge did. He hired a bodyguard. I’m a bodyguard.”
He took another step toward her. “And what about a woman?”
She swallowed and raised her head to maintain eye contact. “What?”
“Are you a woman, too?”
“It doesn’t matter, Fox. Not to you.”
“’Fraid you’re wrong there, sweetheart.”
“If you need another notch in your bedpost, bubba, you’re barking up the wrong tree,” she warned. Someone had once told her that the white trash in her came out when she got mad.
“’Cause you’re scared?” Fox asked.
Her jaw dropped, then she laughed. “I think you’re forgetting who kicked fat guy’s butt back there.”
“Oh, you’re not afraid of getting down and dirty,” Fox said, stepping forward. “You’re afraid of getting up close and personal.”
“Huh?” She backed up a pace.
“You’re afraid of intimacy.”
She swallowed but tried to look nonchalant. “A little dime-store psychology, Fox?” she asked, mimicking his question from only days before.
“You’re afraid to get close to me.”
She snorted and took a step around him. “It’s gonna be a long day tomorrow. Hook the chain behind me.”
“O’Shay.” Reaching out, he placed a palm against the door.
She stood trapped against the jamb, her heart leaping in her chest.
“You’re scared,” he murmured.
“The hell I am.”
“Kiss me then.”
“What?” She squashed her shoulder against the wall.
“Give me one kiss.”
“I’m not afraid.”
He grinned. “I’m giving you a chance to prove yourself.” He shrugged. “It’s more than you gave me with Fat Guy.”
“What do y’ mean by that?”
“You can set the rules.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Want to set a time limit? A no-hands rule?”
“I want to go to bed.”
His brows shot up. “Seems a little sudden. But it’s okay by me.”
Her face felt like it was heated by a blowtorch. “I’m leaving.”
“You’re never going to overcome that fear if you don’t face it.”
“I’ve been kissed before.”
“Have you?”
In fact, she had once been engaged. For a while she had actually believed David could accept her dreams beyond the secretarial pool. But that illusion had shattered quickly enough. In the end, it had been quite ugly. The word “butch” was not one she was particularly fond of.
“Move your hand, Fox,” she said.
“Or you’re going to kick me in the head?”
“I’d rather not”
“I’m flattered. One kiss to show my appreciation.”
“For?”
“For saving my life.” He leaned slightly closer. His fingers brushed hers on the doorknob. And against all her better judgment, she could feel his presence spark through her like lightning down a rod.
“If I kiss you…” Just the thought made her brain start to sizzle. “Once. If I kiss you once, do you promise to quit this foolishness?”
He made a cross against his chest. “If you don’t like it, I’ll never ask again.”
“Promise?”
“You bet. I’d die of shock anyway.”
“Where do you get that ego?”
“I take it IV, directly into my bloodstream. What do you say?”
Her mind said this was the most adolescent thing she’d done since she’d engaged in spitting contests with her brothers. Her body, on the other hand, said if she didn’t take advantage of this situation she was dumber than a mud fence in a rainstorm.
“All right, then. One kiss,” she said.
He grinned that satyr’s grin and leaned closer.
“But!” She scrunched back. “Then you won’t bother me again?”
“You’ll have to beg me,” he said, leaning in.
“And just…” She was breathing too hard, and she’d barely eaten all day. It would be damned embarrassing if she passed out before he even touched her. It’d probably be a dead giveaway that she was a little bit nervous. “And just my lips.”
“Where else did you have in mind?” he asked and lifted his hand toward her cheek.
“No!” She cleared her throat and licked her lips. “Hands by your sides.”
He did as requested. “Ready?”
No! She nodded.
He smiled into her eyes, tilted his head, and kissed her.
Lightning flashed just behind her eyeballs, searing her nerve endings and turning her brain to cinders. Sensations tingled from her lips, scampering off in every direction, setting off a thousand alarm bells. Her knees went weak and her toes curled in her tennis shoes.
An instantaneous eternity passed. But finally Brenna realized he had drawn away and was watching her face. She opened her eyes and noted with some horror that she was plastered against the wall like spattered paint. Her knees were shaking and her head felt light, but she had her pride. Somewhere. She searched for it frantically for a moment, then, “Am I allowed to leave now?”
He watched her, his eyes slightly narrowed, and then he nodded once.
“Fine.” She peeled her back from the wall, hoping all her body parts came with her, hoping the steam coming from her brain wasn’t visible, hoping her knees remembered which way to bend. “Hook the chain behind me,” she reminded him, and left.
A LUMBERJACK.
Nathan took another swig of his drink. He could be a lumberjack. That was a manly job. And he liked trees.
He finished his whiskey, straight up, and motioned for another.
Or a road mender. Standing out there deflecting traffic in blaze orange. A man’s man.
A truck driver. The good thing about being a truck driver was that he could get really butt-ugly fat and no one would give a damn. In fact, it was probably a requirement for truck drivers.
A professional bull rider. He nodded at his suddenly empty glass. He’d done some bull riding and plann
ed to do more. It was scary as hell. But nobody would think he was a wimp once his nose had been broken a half-dozen times. Even little Miss O’Sashay would think him a real man.
Geez! A bodyguard! A woman bodyguard. And now…now he couldn’t even kiss. And it wasn’t as if O’Shay was some movie star or something. She was a small-town kind of girl. Although she mulishly refused to talk about her upbringing, he guessed her roots weren’t all that different from his. But he wasn’t even man enough to tempt her.
Damn. When he was ranching, he may have worked his tail off, but at least when he had some time off, he could raise a spark or two with the hometown girls.
What the hell had happened to him? His dad had been right all along. The music business did turn men into pansies. Come morning he’d be plucking petals out of his ears.
Nathan took another swig, but the glass was dry. He scowled, licked the rim, and motioned for another.
The bartender was quick. He liked that in a bartender. Maybe he should be a bartender, he thought, and glanced toward the man’s retreating back. But his attention was snagged by a woman perched on one of the high stools.
Legs. The woman had legs, he thought, then chuckled to himself, because most women had legs. He drank again and turned his eyes back to her. Her hair was red, and from the back she looked like…
It couldn’t be! O’Shay couldn’t have followed him, he thought wildly, then scoffed at himself. Geez! What was wrong with him? If he wanted to slip out alone for a private drink, he’d damn well do it. She wasn’t his mother…or his wife…or his lover.
Damn.
The woman at the bar turned toward him. It wasn’t O’Shay. Nate made a mental note to be happy about that and raised his glass to her. He was surprised when a goodly portion of the liquid sloshed across his fingers.
She had a nice body, shapely, a little full in the hips but, hey, he was going to be a truck driver.
Another sip.
She had a pretty face. But the really good thing about her was…she probably hadn’t kicked anyone in the head all day.
The memory of his own bodyguard sent a hot wave of emotion through him. He slapped his glass to the table and stood up to leave, but as he did so, his gaze lifted to the woman at the bar once more.
She smiled at him. He grinned back, though her smile did nothing for him, no sparks of emotion, no sweaty hands, nothing.
But suddenly the man beside her stood up. He was big as a Brahma bull and not half so friendly looking. His lips were drawn back in a snarl and as he sauntered toward Nathan, fatty muscles rolled up his bare arms and over his neck.
Grinding to a halt not twelve inches from Nathan, he dropped his head between his shoulder blades like a hunting vulture and said, “You starin’ at my woman, pretty boy?”
Nathan grinned. Testosterone, hot as hell and sharp as ice, flared through his system. “As a matter of fact, I am,” he said in his very best Yankee accent. “She’s not badlooking…for a Texas gal.”
7
“NATHAN!” BRENNA FLEW across the barroom and fell to her knees. “Nathan.”
Her hands shook as she touched his face. His nose was bleeding, his cheek was cut, and his shirt was torn and bloody.
“Nathan, what happened?”
He grinned up at her. “Been fightin’.”
“I’m going to call the police.”
“No!” He caught her hand and pulled her back down beside him.
“I tried to break it up,” said the bartender. Brenna turned to him. He was a big, apologetic-looking man. “I told ‘em I was calling the cops. But that MacKenzie, it was like he was crazy.”
“He had a friend,” Nathan said. His grin had not diminished an iota.
Brenna felt tears prick her eyes. She’d heard of people getting so badly wounded that they became delirious. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I should have found you earlier.”
“Big friend,” Nate said.
“They call him Viking,” the bartender added. “He’s worse than MacKenzie.”
“Yeah.” Nathan sighed. “I think he broke my nose.”
“God, Nathan, not your nose.” Brenna’s fingers trembled against his cheek.
“They carried him out,” Nate added. “Big fat lugger. I’m gonna get fat” He sighed as if content with the world.
“Where are the police?” Brenna asked, all but sobbing.
“This ain’t such a good part of town, miss,” the bartender said. “Sometimes they’s a little slow.”
“Call an ambulance.”
“Don’t want an ambulance,” Nathan said. “The guy had a right hook like the kick of a mule. Damn near knocked me clear out of Texas.”
“I’m going to get you to a hospital.”
“How’d you find me?” he asked.
She noticed that when he looked at her, his eyes didn’t quite focus and hoped it was because he was intoxicated and not because his brains had been pulverized into mashed bananas. Although, when she’d first realized he was gone, she’d threatened to do just that herself.
After the kiss, she’d spent the first half hour trying to figure out how to operate her knees. The second had been spent pacing. Finally, she’d tried to sleep, but there had been little hope of that.
In the end, her pride in tatters, and her hormones torqued into overdrive, she’d gone to his room.
When Brenna had rushed down to the front desk, the woman there had remembered Nathan, even though he hadn’t used his real name. He’d said he needed a drink in a good old boys’ bar. The rest had been easy enough. It hadn’t taken a top-notch detective to find him in a town of ten thousand.
“Where’s the nearest hospital?” she asked the bartender.
“Don’t need a hospital,” Nathan slurred.
“Listen, Fox—”
“You listen, O’Say.” He chuckled at his own mistake. “O’Say,” he said again. “Ohhh say can you see by the stars in my head.” He laughed then, until he was crunched up on the floor, favoring his ribs. “Oh God. Whew, I feel good.”
“Call an ambulance.”
“You call an ambulance, you won’t never see me again, sweetheart,” Nathan said.
“And where would you go?”
“I’d ssslip right out of there.” He nodded. “Become a truck driver.” He said it like a small boy dreaming big dreams.
“You need your head examined.”
“Yup. Take me to my room, O’Say. I think I’m tired.”
“I think you’re stupid.”
“Yup. But I’m a man.”
THE TAXI RIDE WAS SHORT and not too horrific. The trip across the hotel lobby and up to his room was worse. But finally they reached Nathan’s door. Brenna slipped the key into the lock and helped him inside.
He crawled onto the bed, rested a moment, and finally flopped over on his back. Brenna stared down at him for a moment.
He stared back, one eye swollen half shut. “Bet you find me attractive now, huh?” he said.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“’Bout this?” He motioned vaguely toward his face. “This is nothing. Once when I was riding bulls…” He paused to catch either his breath or his line of thought—she couldn’t tell which. “I got throwed good. Knocked me senseless for a second. By the time I got to my feet…woosh.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. “Bull hooked me like I was a sunfish.”
Brenna winced and eyed his chest. Several buttons had been wrenched from his shirt during the melee, and she was tempted nearly beyond control to brush her fingers across the exposed skin. “Is that where you got the scar?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He grinned and rubbed his scar as if inordinately proud. “Nice one, huh? Got another rodeo in August. Wanna come and see me take a beating?”
Tears suddenly stung her eyes. “I’ll get a washcloth,” she said, and hurried away.
A minute later, with her emotions under better control, she returned with an ice bucket half fi
lled with cold water and settled her hip on the edge of the mattress. He watched her face as she gently dabbed the blood from his nose. The room was silent.
“So why aren’t you married, Ms. O’Say?” he asked.
She cleared her throat and hoped she wouldn’t cry. “Why aren’t you?”
He shook his head, then scowled as if any quick movement wasn’t such a good idea. “Life on the road,” he said. “Tough. Rover’s been divorced twice. Did you know that? Never sees his kids. And Fry. Once. What kind of woman’d want to buy into this kinda life?”
She remained quiet for a moment, but it seemed to be an honest question, so she answered finally. “Quite a few, I’d think.”
He snorted. “Yeah. But what kind? They’re—” he sighed “—not like Mom. Shauna…I thought she was. ‘Course, I stole her from Sarge in the first place, so I suppose he’s got a right to be a pain in the ass. But they’re back together, you know.”
His eye looked horrible. God, she’d made a mess of things. “No.” She sniffed. “I didn’t know.”
He nodded. “’Course he doesn’t see her much, seein’s how he’s married to his clipboard. Him and Shauna were singing together before I ever hooked up with them. They were set on making it big. But—”
“What?”
He grinned. “Sarge says he grew up. Now he baby-sits me. Surprised me he could give up the dream.”
“Of being a star?”
“Yeah. Damn dream’s got a bite like a damned sheepdog. Most guys can’t give it up without getting bitter.”
“How about Shauna?” She knew she shouldn’t ask. There was probably nothing lower than prodding a man for information when he was drunk.
“She’s a nurse in Nebraska. She used to be good though. When I first saw her on stage…” He sighed. “She was a country gal. Wheat farmers. Can ride horse and everything.”
She let the words lie there, but she couldn’t hold back the question for long. “You’re still in love with her?” The question didn’t sound quite so innocuous as she’d intended.
But Nathan merely turned his gaze to the ceiling. “If I was sober I’d say naw. But I’m sauced. Maybe you couldn’t tell.”
His Bodyguard Page 8
