Reach for a Star

by Kathryn Freeman

  Kelly flushed and as the professor cleared his throat, Ben belatedly realised he should have engaged his brain before opening his mouth. He was here to prove he could be trusted with her safety. Right now they were probably considering getting a bodyguard to protect her from the bodyguard. Determinedly he focussed his eyes back onto her face. ‘My question still stands. It seems to me you’re either not on board with the idea of a bodyguard, or you’ve taken an instant dislike to me.’ He levelled her a crooked grin. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time, though generally women don’t start to hate me till the second meeting.’

  Her smile was polite but distant. Her eyes wary. ‘You were right with option one. I’m not keen on having somebody watching over me. That’s not particularly directed at you.’

  ‘Good to know. So you don’t mind me, but you don’t like what I do. I’ve had worse starts to a job.’

  An awkward pause followed his statement and Ben sighed inwardly. Nobody ever wanted a bodyguard. Never mind the intrusion, having to admit you needed protection meant acknowledging you were vulnerable. Who the hell was ready for that?

  ‘Please, Ben, take a seat.’ The professor rescued the silence, pointing to some posh looking chair with fancy winged arms and bandy wooden legs that looked like they’d snap if he breathed on them. It was even covered in velvet, for God’s sake. If ever there was a chair he shouldn’t sit on, this was it.

  ‘I don’t want to break it,’ he blurted, then kicked himself for sounding like an ignorant working-class prick.

  The professor laughed kindly. ‘You won’t. It’s a lot sturdier than it looks. But if you’d prefer the sofa?’

  Ben surveyed the cream sofa, upholstered in a material that surely should be on a dress instead of a place to park his backside. Hastily he shook his head. ‘I’ll wedge myself into the chair, thanks.’

  Kelly watched as the bodyguard’s mouth curved into another easy grin. The crinkles around his eyes suggested smiling was something he did a lot. It didn’t fit with her image of a bodyguard which was more that of a bruiser; stern, forbidding, bulky. Not that this one didn’t have the build. She was glad he was going to sit down because looking up at his face was giving her neck ache. If his height was impressive, then so was the way his black leather jacket strained across his muscular frame as he moved. But though he was physically intimidating, his easy smile and sandy brown hair made him appear approachable. On anyone else the combination might have been ordinary, but there was nothing ordinary about Ben Jacobs. Not the bold, confident way he carried himself, or the not quite handsome but incredibly eye-catching face. Then there was the cocky grin and the spark in his startlingly green eyes. No, Ben Jacobs was far from ordinary.

  Yet it was this very … she supposed it was a strut, a brashness … that made her uncomfortable. The men she came across were mainly academics. Quieter, more serious. If she was going to have a man meddling in her life over the next few months, she’d prefer a type she was used to. A type she understood.

  Ben hesitantly lowered himself onto the Queen Anne armchair opposite her, and Kelly had to stifle a giggle. The chair was dainty, elegant and pristine because it was hardly ever used. The man squeezing himself into it was large, solid, with a face that had clearly seen a lot of action. The chair was upholstered in fine blue and gold velvet. The man wore black jeans, a black T-shirt and a black jacket. It was an absurd combination.

  He caught her eye and gave her a knowing look. One that seemed to say Am I amusing you?

  She gave her head a small shake and took a seat next to her father on the sofa opposite.

  ‘Okay then.’ Green eyes held hers for a beat before turning to her father. ‘Perhaps I should summarise what Professor Bridge and I discussed.’ He leant forward, resting his arms on his heavily muscled thighs. It was entirely possible that he chose this stance because his broad shoulders were too wide to wedge between the winged back. ‘As I understand it, your father believes you’re at risk from elements interested in making sure you don’t complete the project you’re currently working on.’

  ‘He’s wrong.’

  Kelly received another flash of his relaxed, easy smile. ‘I sure hope that’s the case. And if it is, you’ll be able to tell your father you told him so.’ Ben’s face changed, the affable bodyguard replaced with someone harder, more dangerous. ‘But I understand you’ve been followed, and had a strange visit to your apartment. If your father’s fears materialise, having me by your side could save your life.’

  The way he said it, so simply, so calmly, shook her. ‘Please don’t tell me you’d take a bullet for me. I’m going to think I’m in a bad movie.’

  ‘You didn’t rate Kevin Costner?’

  ‘I loved The Bodyguard. But it bears no resemblance to real life, nor to my life.’

  ‘You might reserve your singing for the shower, unlike Whitney, but real life carries danger, too. And real bullets do a lot more damage.’

  What had begun as an innocuous conversation had turned horribly uncomfortable. Leaping off the sofa, Kelly began to pace. ‘This is ridiculous. There won’t be any bullets. I’m just a scientist.’

  ‘Who happens to be working on a vaccine against a possible biological weapon,’ her father interrupted quietly. ‘And might be being followed.’

  She turned and glared at him. ‘I’m a scientist who specialises in vaccines. One of the many vaccines I’m looking into might, if we get the formulation right, protect against potential new strains of smallpox. The rest,’ she raised her hands in emphasis, ‘is speculation.’

  ‘I hear you.’ Ben gave a shrug of his huge shoulders. ‘It could be entirely a coincidence that one day you think you’ve been followed. The next day a man with no I.D comes to check your meter.’ His tone was like his expression, very matter of fact. ‘But telling yourself everything is okay, doesn’t mean it is. The car could have been following you to find out where you lived. The same person then came to your place pretending to be a meter reader. If you’d let him in …’ Another shrug.

  Her heart thumped, and Kelly felt the first shiver of real fear.

  Ben must have seen it on her face. ‘I’ve not come to frighten you,’ he continued, his tone noticeably softer. ‘None of the people I’ve been asked to protect have been happy with the situation. Many, like you, didn’t believe it was necessary. A lot of them were right, too.’ He shifted back, his broad shoulders now resting awkwardly against the delicately carved wings of the chair. ‘But those who weren’t right ended up happy to have me by their side when the shit hit the fan.’ He winced. ‘Ah, sorry. When things went tits … umm, belly up.’

  Despite the gravity of what he was saying, there was something about watching the ex-solider attempting to be on his best behaviour that was surprisingly disarming. If his aim was to charm her into agreeing, it appeared it was starting to work. ‘Will it only be you? What about days off?’ A bubble of panic rose up inside her. Surely she wasn’t expected to share her whole life with him?

  ‘Yes, in the short-term it will only be me. We figure it’s easier for the client to get used to one person. Easier for us, too. Makes sure nothing falls through the cracks.’ Once again, his mouth took on that easy smile. ‘Look, why don’t you give it a go? If you hate my guts by the end of the week we can part ways and the guys at Panther can send someone else.’

  Send someone else, she noted. Not forget the whole stupid idea. Seriously, how was she supposed to live with a stranger watching her every move? It was embarrassing. A total over-reaction. Her work colleagues would die laughing.

  ‘What do you say, Kelly?’ Her father’s voice broke through her thoughts. ‘Will you agree to this? If not for you, then for me and your mother?’

  One look into his hopeful blue eyes, and she let out a long, slow exhale. Damn it, he knew which buttons to press. Knew too, how hard she’d always found it to say no to him. ‘Okay,’ she muttered resignedly.

  Relief flooded his face, making her feel instantly guilty. He was clearly re
ally worried about her, yet all she’d done was moan about a temporary lack of privacy. Reaching down, she gave his familiar, wiry body a quick hug before turning back to Ben.

  Her eyes hit a wall of broad, solid chest – he’d stood up without her realising – and she had to crane her neck again to find his face. ‘You have yourself a deal. I only hope neither of us live to regret it.’

  He laughed softly. ‘The only things to regret in life are the things you don’t do.’

  He clearly lived by his philosophy. Confident, brash and full of life, he wasn’t the sort who stood on the sidelines and watched. No, he was the type who didn’t think twice, just got stuck right in. What a sad truth that if she applied his philosophy to her own life, she was hurtling towards one giant shedload of regret.

  ‘I’ll need to go home and collect a few things.’ Ben glanced from her to her father. ‘I suggest Kelly stays here tonight. I’ll get someone from the Panther team to come and keep watch, though the security looks pretty tight.’

  ‘We have the gates. And a house alarm,’ her father confirmed.

  Guards, alarms, security teams. It was surreal. It didn’t seem possible they were talking about her.

  ‘Great.’ Ben suddenly turned his green gaze on her. ‘I’ll get whoever is assigned to you to drive you back to your place tomorrow and I’ll meet you there.’ He tapped his phone. ‘I have the address as being just outside Thame, is that right?’

  ‘Yes.’ She swallowed, feeling suddenly nervous. Was this really happening? ‘I guess I’ll see you Saturday morning.’

  She knew she sounded off, perhaps even rude, but this was so far out of her comfort zone. Suddenly she wanted to be back in her lab. Back in a world she understood, with people who spoke her language.

  Leaving her father and Ben to iron out the details, she set off towards the study to seek out her mum, thankful she was at least staying here tonight. She might be nearly thirty, but she still spent great chunks of her free time at her childhood home. Oh she’d ticked one item off the how to become an adult list and bought an apartment, but going back to those four lonely walls every evening had quickly lost its sparkle. To say her life was insular and sheltered was a whopping understatement. All she had to show for it so far was a few fancy letters after her name and a portfolio of scientific papers.

  Abruptly she shook off the melancholy. Self-pity was something she abhorred, and she had so much to be thankful for. A family who loved her, work that felt more like a privilege than a job. Heck, in the vaccine world, Dr Kelly Bridge was respected and even admired.

  So it was churlish to complain that outside that rarefied field, plain old Kelly still felt like a lost little girl, stomping her feet. Looking for a way out of the maze she’d become stuck in – one where every turn seemed to involve work. If she wasn’t at work, she was reading up on work. On the rare occasions she went out, it was with people from work. There was a certain reassurance to it all, a comfort, but more and more recently she was starting to feel like she was trapped.

  She knocked gently on the open study door and her mother immediately looked up, her eyes narrowing in worry. ‘My darling, what’s wrong? Was the bodyguard that bad?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You look so down.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ She forced herself to smile. ‘Ben Jacob’s seems fine. I’m sure I can put up with him for a short time while I finalise the vaccine.’ It looked like she had even more reason to work late now. Not just to complete the project, but to get the bodyguard out of her hair.

  ‘Then why the glum face?’ Her mother patted her cheek. ‘I worry about you sometimes. You don’t get out enough.’

  Kelly rolled her eyes. ‘You weren’t saying that when I was studying. Quite the opposite.’

  ‘I know, and maybe we pushed you too hard.’ Her mum frowned. ‘I’m concerned that all you have is your work.’

  Kelly felt tears prick. What with the uncomfortable talk about her safety, the mortification of having a bodyguard, and now this dissection of her non-existent social life, she’d had enough of today. ‘I have you and Dad too,’ she replied quietly, moving to hug her mum so she wouldn’t see the tears. ‘What more can a girl want?’

  But you’re supposed to be a woman. How sad that she’d never felt less like one.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Ben was halfway out of his flat on Saturday morning when he ground to a halt, threw the holdall on the floor, and headed back to his bedroom. Hastily he snatched at the iPod and earphones on his bedside table, essential if Kelly watched highbrow TV in the evening. On a burst of inspiration, he also dived into his sparse wardrobe and grabbed a white shirt and his only suit. Just in case he had to escort her to some fancy do. After chucking the last minute items into his holdall he zipped it back up, threw it over his shoulder and was about to open his front door when his mobile rang.

  Sighing heavily, he peered at the caller ID. Then grinned as he pressed answer.

  ‘Floss. What are you up to?’ he asked as he locked the door.

  ‘Sweet FA. Sitting at base in front of my computer, twiddling my thumbs as usual. How about you, big man?’

  Andy Sturridge, known as Floss on account of the fact that his wife was a dentist, had been his oppo and best buddy during the gruelling Special Forces selection process. Through grit, humour and sheer bloody mindedness the pair of them had made it through the ordeal. And having tabbed through the beacons together in the pissing rain, a tonne weight on their backs, they’d also formed a bond that had proved so far unbreakable. Later they’d been assigned the same squadron and seen each other through hours of gruelling training, several high-octane missions and far too many days of kicking their heels, waiting to be called for duty. To some it sounded like a life made in hell. To Ben, it had been closer to heaven.

  Except for the part when he’d been shot.

  As if to remind him, his shoulder began to ache.

  ‘Crackers?’

  Ben rolled his eyes at Floss’s use of the nickname. Crackers. Given his surname, he supposed it had been inevitable. ‘I’m off to do CP.’

  Like him, Floss now worked for Panther, a security company run by Charles Lightfoot, ex Major from the Special Forces. Set up five years ago, it was starting to become the most highly regarded contract security company in the country. In the beginning the focus had been mainly protecting people – CP, close protection – or places. As the company had expanded, they’d begun to take on other jobs, thank God; reconnaissance, rescue missions. Basically anything the government – and other respectable institutions – needed doing discretely, under the radar. Jobs where a paper trail wasn’t wanted.

  It meant they were currently stretched, having to turn down jobs because they lacked the manpower. They needed more ex-soldiers. Even poor suckers with busted shoulders.

  ‘Still not ready for that desk job?’ Floss returned and Ben could hear the laughter in his voice.

  Although at times it felt they were joined at the hip, there was a world of difference between Floss and Ben. Floss had left Special Forces because he’d wanted to find a more settled job so he could start a family. Ben had been forced to leave, because of his damn shoulder. Being a whizz with technology, Floss had been able to take up a post as intelligence officer for Panther, which basically meant spending most of his day analysing stuff on his computer. The thought of having to sit at a desk brought Ben out in a cold sweat. What the blazes did an ex-soldier do in an office? Especially this ex-soldier. ‘I’ll never sit behind a desk,’ he replied forcefully.

  Floss laughed. ‘Yeah. I heard you, big man. Still, are you sure you should be taking risks at your age?’

  ‘Bloody hell, I’m only thirty-six. I’m not ready to sit on my arse and crochet just yet.’

  There was another burst of laughter down the phone. ‘You should try it, man. Make a couple of doilies for me.’ Ben shook his head and waited while Floss cackled at his own joke for a few more seconds. ‘Who are you protecting?’

&
nbsp; ‘Some scientist.’

  Ben had to endure the sound of more sniggering. ‘Scientist, eh? Well that should be fun. I can just see you talking particulate physics to some crusty old prof.’

  ‘She happens to be young and blonde. Plus, she’s into vaccines, not physics, but yeah, I guess the sentiment’s the same. Can’t imagine we’ll be talking about her work much.’ The very thought made the hairs on his neck stand to attention. He was more than happy to face down a gunman for her, but as for discussing anything intellectual? Forget it.

  ‘Vaccines, eh?’ Floss’s voice waffled on in his ear. ‘That’s a new one. A scientist sure makes a change from royalty, celebs and diplomats.’

  True, but Ben would take them any time. He knew and accepted that in terms of social class he hovered somewhere around the bottom rung of the ladder. Hell, someone had to be at the bottom, and he could live with it being him. What he found hard to live with was his lack of education. He hated – grinding his teeth, tying his stomach into a thousand knots hated –feeling thick.

  ‘And you said this scientist is blonde?’ Floss continued, clearly totally unfazed at having a one-sided conversation. ‘Well, lucky you. An added bonus.’

  Ben wasn’t sure about that, either. If he looked, he liked to touch – wasn’t that the point of being single? But anyone he was protecting was off limits, which was a bloody shame because he reckoned he’d enjoy both watching and touching Dr Bridge. There was something about her cool, blonde, highly intelligent looks that appealed. Of course, that supposed he’d have a chance on that front, which was about as likely as him winning Mastermind. Opposites might attract, but like gravitated towards like in the end.

  In which case he should be looking out for a busty barmaid with a wide grin whose idea of conversation was to tell him exactly where on her body she wanted his tongue.

  ‘You’re a bit quiet.’ Floss finally noticed he’d been talking to himself. ‘It’s lucky I only phoned to pass the time and not for the sparkling conversation.’