His Bodyguard

by Greiman, Lois

  “Gun?” His voice still sounded a little guttural, but in all fairness, that may have been because she was sitting on his stomach.

  She glanced to her left. “The gun I knocked out of your…” Oh no. A baseball cap lay at a cocked angle against the bathroom door. If she really stretched her imagination, she could see how the crooked shadow of the brim could have looked like the snubbed nose of a Beretta.

  “You said, ‘Time’s up, Fox,’” she murmured weakly.

  Tyrel stared at her for a moment “I said, ‘’Bout time you got back, Fox.’”

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat and wondered if there were any way to look casual while sitting on a man’s abdomen. “How’d you get in here?”

  “Nate gave me a key a coupla years back.”

  “A key?” she gasped, flipping her appalled gaze to Nathan.

  He shrugged. “He’s my brother.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?”

  “Slipped my mind.”

  “My God, Fox, I could have…” She gestured wildly.

  “Killed me?” Tyrel guessed.

  She searched for words for a moment, then gave up. “Made a fool of myself,” she muttered weakly.

  Nathan chuckled.

  Tyrel grinned.

  “What are you doing down here, Ty?” Nathan asked, squatting down as if this were an everyday type of conversation.

  “She’s sitting on me.”

  “I mean in Texas.”

  “Oh. Hannah’s competing all over with Maverick this year. They jump tomorrow in Dallas.”

  “Yeah? Where’s Mandy?”

  “She’s with her mom. God knows you can’t get her away from the horses,” Ty said and winced.

  “Maybe you’d better get off him,” Nathan said. “He’s not as young as he used to be.”

  “Oh!” Brenna stumbled to her feet. “I just…” Bending quickly, she jerked his cap from the floor and handed it to him. “I thought…”

  Tyrel rose more slowly, glanced at Brenna’s warm face, then turned his gaze to his brother.

  There was a moment of silence, then a shrug from Nate. “She’s my bodyguard.”

  More silence. “Huh?”

  A self-effacing grin. That one that made Brenna forget that Nathan Fox was the kind of chauvinistic pain in the ass she detested.

  “Yep. She’s here to guard my body.”

  “From what?”

  Nathan shrugged as he turned toward the fridge. “Sarge is fretting. What the hell were you doing sitting here in the dark?”

  “I fell asleep. About what?”

  “About what, what?” Nathan asked.

  “What is Sarge fretting about?”

  “You name it. We got a couple of Buds. Want one?”

  “Nate, what’s going on?”

  Nathan turned toward Brenna, still bent double. “You want anything?” he asked, his derriére inches from her.

  “No.” She wrenched her gaze from his tighter-than-sin behind and tried not to squirm. “Thank you.”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Tyrel demanded.

  “Geez, Ty,” Nate said, toeing the fridge closed and sauntering over to the long couch that lined one wall. “You get tossed on your can by a woman and you don’t turn a hair. But I tell you Sarge is fretting and you go haywire.”

  “Since meeting Hannah, being tossed on my can is the least of my problems. What’s Sarge worried about?”

  Nathan shrugged noncommittally. “It’s nothing.”

  “Then why’s he worried? He ain’t as dumb as he looks, you know.”

  Nathan laughed as he plopped onto the couch and screwed the top off his beer. “That’d almost have to be true.”

  “What’s up?” Ty asked, all seriousness now.

  “Nothing.” Nathan took a swig.

  Ty turned his gaze to Brenna.

  She felt like backing away with her hands in the air. “I’m in Mr. Fox’s employ,” she said.

  Tyrel scowled at her, and looked for all the world like an exact replica of his brother. “You just kicked me in the arm and threw me on my butt,” he said. “Seems to me you owe me something.”

  Brenna would have liked to argue with that, but there was a certain amount of guilt that followed pouncing on an innocent man’s stomach, so she cleared her throat and glanced at Nathan.

  He scowled at her, but she ignored it. “There have been some inexplicable accidents.”

  “That’s right. Accidents!” Nate said. “And nothing more.”

  “What accidents?”

  “They’re nothing,” Nathan repeated. “A blown tire. An electrical short. On the farm we’d call that a good day.”

  “What about the time you were nearly run down while jogging?” Brenna asked.

  “Who told you about that?”

  “Sarge seems to think I should be aware of a few things.”

  Nate shrugged. “We were in L.A.!”

  Brenna paused, watching him. He was trying to look relaxed, but she could see the tension in his body. “How do you explain the letters?” she asked.

  He tensed a bit more.

  “What letters?” Tyrel’s voice was low.

  “They’re nothing.”

  “He’s been getting threatening letters for more than a year.”

  “From who?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out”

  “So I get a couple of letters that talk about something other than my good looks,” Nathan said. He took another swig and grinned. “You can’t blame men for being jealous when their women whisper my name in their sleep.”

  “Is that what you think?” Tyrel asked. “Someone’s jealous enough to threaten you?”

  “They’re not threatening me,” Nate said. “They’re just a half-dozen letters that—”

  “Ten,” Brenna corrected.

  “What?”

  “There are ten letters. I found a few others. They were more subtle, but I think they’re all from the same person.”

  “Hell, Nate! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Geez!” Nathan rose jerkily from the couch. “Tell you what? That some guy told me to be careful when I go running? That ain’t all that significant, brother.”

  “Well, if somebody tries to run you down the next week it is.”

  “It wasn’t the next week. And the letter was postmarked from Ohio. You think he followed me to L.A. to run me over?”

  The bus went silent.

  “Maybe you should come home and lie low for a while. Pansy could fuss over you. Give the kitchen floor a break. She’s scrubbed it clean through to the basement”

  For a moment Nathan looked as if he would retort, but finally he let out a breath and grinned. “How is Pansy?”

  “Old, ornery, bossy.”

  “’Bout the same then,” Nathan said.

  The tension dissipated a little.

  “The folk’d love to see you, Nate.”

  “I’ll be there by August,” Nathan said. “In plenty of time for the rodeo, so you’d better practice so you don’t slow down my roping time.”

  “But if some guy—”

  “No!” Brenna interrupted breathlessly.

  Both men turned to her, and she started. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

  “What?” Nathan asked.

  She let out a deep breath and stared at him. “I’ve been wrong all along.”

  “What are you talking about?” Nathan asked.

  Suddenly energized and certain, Brenna rushed to the back of the bus and dragged a small bag of letters from the overhead cabinet

  In a moment, she had them all flipped open on the tabletop. “Look at this,” she said, giddy with excitement. “Each one says something about your good looks.” She skimmed them again, page after page. “Listen. ‘You should cut your hair.’ ‘How do you keep in such great shape?’ ‘Wear dark colors.’”

  “Don’t know why, but Nate’s always drawn the women,” Tyrel said uncertainly.

&nb
sp; She glanced up. “Those are signed with men’s names.”

  “All right, that’s weird,” Ty said.

  “They’re from a woman,” Brenna murmured.

  Nathan scoffed, then shook his head as he stepped forward. “That’s crazy.”

  “It’s not. Who else would consistently talk about your looks?”

  “You’re imagining.”

  “They’re really quick references,” Brenna said, almost faint with excitement “I didn’t notice them at first either. But something’s been worrying at me. I knew there was some kind of bond.” She skimmed them quickly again. “What kind of man would say those things?”

  “A really weird one,” Ty said. “You been hanging around weird guys, Nate?”

  “Since childhood. But you’re my brother.”

  Ty ignored him, turning to Brenna. “What are you going to do now?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. Nothing immediately.”

  “You’ve got time for supper then,” Tyrel said. “I could take you both out We could mull it over.”

  “We just got in from out,” Nathan said, abruptly turning his back on the letters. “Too bad Hannah’s not here. She could cook us up something.” He laughed, but the sound was a little stiff.

  Brenna quickly scooped the mail back into the bag. She would love to pore over them, examine them yet again, but Nathan looked tired suddenly, and though he wouldn’t admit it, she thought the letters bothered him. Time with his brother would do him more good than analyzing threatening mail.

  “I’d rather starve to death in peace than eat Hannah’s cooking,” Tyrel said. “Your culinary talents improved any?”

  “My cooking was good enough those first years at The Lone Oak.”

  “That was before Hannah hired Pansy. My taste buds have blossomed.”

  “Yeah, well, you’re a redneck at heart,” Nate said, and opened a door to scan his cupboards. “You’ll adjust.”

  In the end they decided to make chili. Brenna secured the door, made sure all the shades were drawn, and saved Nuf from a half-opened kitchen drawer in which he’d gotten his fat head stuck searching for food. She pulled out a notebook and sat toward the back of the bus, giving the brothers as much privacy as possible. But despite her best intentions, it was impossible to ignore them.

  True, she had grown up with five brothers, and thus she should be used to their rough comradery, but nevertheless, these two intrigued her. Unlike her brothers, who had refused to learn to do so much as stir soup, they leaned over the stove with relish, arguing about everything from spices to curing hay. The domesticity should have made them seem effeminate, she thought But somehow, it did the opposite.

  Seeing their rangy bodies stretch to look in the cupboard or flex to stash a bowl away, only made them seem more masculine. Nathan’s big hand on the wooden ladle entranced her somehow.

  Unfortunately, he glanced up just as she was staring at him. The sly corner of a grin touched his lips.

  “Figured out who the author is yet, Sherlock?” he asked.

  Maybe she should have been offended by his question. But she couldn’t quite manage it “Uh-huh.”

  “Yeah?” He quit his stirring.

  “Sure.” She knew she should stay put, keep her distance, but he looked so touchable and charming in his stocking feet and half grin. Rising, she ventured into the small kitchen. “But I can’t tell you now or I’ll be out of a job.”

  He chuckled.

  “Ask her,” Ty said.

  “Ask me what?”

  “Doesn’t that need more chili powder?” Tyrel asked.

  “If you have a fire hose handy,” Nathan said. “Here.” He scooped a bit of chili onto the wooden ladle and lifted it toward her.

  Brenna backed away. Professionalism! she reminded herself firmly. She mustn’t get too close to this guy, especially when he was like this, homey and real and so damned attractive it made her eyes water.

  Nate looked questioningly at her.

  “Cooking’s not my field,” she said, though actually she was a decent chef and rather enjoyed it.

  “Ah, yes, the consummate bodyguard,” Nathan said. “But you do eat.” He pushed the spoon a little closer. “I saw you—just the day before yesterday you had a raisin.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh.

  “Taste it,” he urged.

  She finally did, chewing thoroughly before swallowing and scowling in thought.

  “Well?” the brothers asked in unison.

  “It needs more chili powder.”

  Her statement was the start of a whole new argument, but this time Brenna was drawn into it. It seemed that not a topic was left untouched, from cutting horses to the ozone layer.

  Fifteen minutes later, when they sat down to eat, Nathan broached a new subject “Sarge thinks I should rent one of Simmons’ paints for the new video.”

  “Jack Simmons?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’d go way down to Oklahoma to ride a horse?”

  “A paint horse. You know Sarge. Working every angle. Gotta go with the fads.”

  “Pay me half as much as you’d have to pay Simmons and you can ride one of mine,” Ty said.

  Nate snorted as he consumed the chili. “I could ride Lula for free.”

  “You don’t want a palomino. You want a nice bay. Hazard’s got—”

  “Oh geez!” Nate said. “Spare me the litany of your stud’s fine qualities.”

  Tyrel laughed. “What do you think, Brenna? Don’t you think Nate should ride a brown horse? He’s already so…” He gestured vaguely toward him with an open hand. “Don’t you think he’d look kind of girly on a yellow horse?”

  Brenna couldn’t help but laugh at the noise Nathan made as he choked on his dinner.

  “I’ve always had a fondness for palominos,” she said.

  “You know horses. She knows horses,” Tyrel said in surprise.

  “A small-town girl,” Nate said.

  “Yeah? A small-town bodyguard. I haven’t had a need for a lot of bodyguards, but I’m guessing you’re not the average sort,” Ty observed.

  “Better legs,” Nate said and grinned.

  Brenna stiffened slightly, wishing with all her might that she could work up a little righteous indignation. “I assure you I’m well trained and proficient,” she said. “I’ll take good care of your brother.”

  Ty grinned as he rubbed his arm where she’d kicked him. “I wasn’t doubting.”

  She looked down and played with her crackers. “Oh. Well…” She rose to her feet and headed for the door. “I’m going to meander around the parking lot for a little while.”

  “O’Shay?”

  “Yeah?” She turned back to Nathan.

  “Don’t attack anybody unless I’m there to watch, huh?”

  She snorted as she left the bus, and both men grinned.

  “Well,” Ty said and rose to his feet. “I’d better get back. Much as I’m sure you’d like me to uh…” he leaned back to move a shade and glance out the window “…chaperone, I can’t stay the night.” His gaze skimmed back to Nate who rose too.

  “I will miss you. The dishes aren’t washed, and I’m scared to ask O’Shay to help.”

  Ty chuckled as he moved toward the door. He pulled on his boots then straightened. “You’ll be careful, won’t you?”

  “What do you think, that I hired O’Shay for her great legs?”

  “I know you better than that,” Ty said. “Your tastes run higher up.”

  Nathan glanced toward the door. “If I reach in that direction, I’m liable to have my hand chewed off.”

  “It could be what you’ve needed all along, brother—a woman with teeth.”

  Nathan snorted. “What I need is a woman who can’t beat me in arm wrestling.”

  Tyrel chuckled. “Maybe she’ll let you win.”

  Nate thought of a snappy rejoinder, but didn’t say it. Instead, he leaned his shoulder against the wall and stared at his olde
r brother.

  Silence filled the bus.

  “That bad, huh?” Ty asked.

  “What?” Nathan pulled away from the wall. “No. It’s just…” He exhaled sharply and ran splayed fingers through his hair. “Damn, it’s confusing. She looks like a lamb and kicks like a mule.”

  “Some folks swear by mules.”

  Nate sighed. “She don’t want none of it, Ty.”

  “What does she want?”

  Nathan shrugged. He didn’t mean to act like a snot-nosed kid, but Tyrel seemed to bring out that side of him. There was nothing like a big brother to wipe your nose for you. “Maybe she wants to be a man.” He felt grumpy and frustrated and knew he was being unfair.

  “Yeah?” Ty said. “Well, if that’s what she’s after, she’s losing the battle. And she don’t look like no loser to me.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying, she’s the best thing I’ve seen you with since you left your palomino at home, son.”

  Nathan shook his head. “She’s all wrong for me.”

  “Too pretty?”

  Nate snorted. “She’s independent and stubborn and, hell, she drives me crazy. I need someone like…Mom. Someone who’ll take care of me when—”

  Tyrel laughed out loud. “Are you talking about our mom? The woman who took out the buggy whip when Dad came home drunk?”

  “What?”

  “Maybe you were too young to remember, little brother. But there’s a reason Dad walks the straight and narrow.”

  Nathan remained quiet for a moment “Are you saying I should go after O’Shay?”

  “I’m saying—” Ty scooped his cap onto his head “—Dad’s the one who swears by mules.”

  9

  BRENNA CROUCHED UNDER Nathan’s nightstand, fiddling with some wires and worrying about a thousand things. Who was sending the letters? Would her brothers leave her alone to do her job? Who had called Bartman Security to ask about her?

  She pushed the last worry out of her mind. Because if anyone associated with Fox Inc. suspected she wasn’t a certified bodyguard, she’d certainly have heard about it by now.

  Which allowed her to worry about other things. She glanced toward the bed. But she refused to think how he would look lying there. She wouldn’t think of how his fingers would feel against her skin, or how his voice would tickle her ear.

  They hadn’t slept on the bus three nights ago as Nathan had suggested, but had returned to the relative safety of the hotel. Still, she had known he slept in the very next room to hers, only a few feet away. The thought had made her queasy last night, but tonight was worse yet She’d been unable to do anything more constructive than pace. Which was infinitely better than begging him to do what she was dying to beg him to do.