THE UNLIKELY BODYGUARD

by Amy J. Fetzer

  "What will you do, bad boy?" Her words moistened his lips.

  His gaze thinned, pale with a predatory gleam, and her bravado fled.

  She abruptly pulled back and walked briskly to her room. She inserted the key, turned the knob and opened the door.

  Suddenly he was there, behind her, one arm around her waist, the other hand slapping open the door. "See, little tigress?" he rasped in her ear. "You don't know what danger is." He twisted her around. "It was right behind you."

  "Angel?" Panic swam in her voice as she stared into his fathomless eyes.

  A wound flickered across his features, then left.

  Suddenly he ducked, his mouth a hard slash across hers, his kiss heavy and demanding. Disillusionment ripped through her. She deserved this for teasing him, trusting him, and even as savage heat scored through her, she pushed at his shoulders, his chest, tried tearing her mouth away. But he followed, exacting a response. She tried not to give it, fighting the greedy feel of his mouth, his hands running over her body. Still he kissed her and kissed her, his advancing body urging her farther into the room, back against a short dresser. Bodies meshed, hard planes pushing to soft skin.

  His kiss was unrelenting and laced with dangerous consequences. Tempting.

  Calli's body was already betraying her, her skin dampening, and even as she gripped his jacket to push him back, she fought a war inside herself between outrage and hurt—and the glorious pressure of his warm wet mouth on hers. It coupled with a strange hunger in his kiss, a tight restraint daring her to join him and, without warning, her lips softened beneath his, immediately eager.

  Angel jerked back, his potent glare clashing with hers. She met and matched it, all mutinous. You started this, her gaze challenged. Their breathing was labored, bodies aroused to unthinkable heights. And he pushed the limit.

  He grasped her hips and ground her to his hardness, his mouth to hers.

  Like Dee had tried. But this wasn't the same. Nothing was. Galvanizing sensations pelted her again and again, nothing repulsive, all primitive and devouring. Calli knew she'd never experienced anything this forceful; domination of her body and mind. She thought she would go mad if she didn't have more.

  Then he gave it, insinuating his knee between hers and maneuvering her onto the dresser. One hand dove into her hair, holding her for the burn of his kiss while his free hand slid heavily over her chest, pulling at her jacket zipper and spreading the leather. Beneath it, he found a shapely bustier and his fingertips made contact with bare skin as they closed over her breast. He squeezed, driving his thumb beneath the satiny fabric and wildly flicking her tender nipple.

  A trapped sound scraped her throat.

  He tore his mouth from hers and she heard his breath rush past her ear before he ground his lips to her neck, nipping, licking, urging her head back. She clutched fistfuls of his jacket. Breath panted. He deliberately licked a path from her throat to the swells of her breasts. His big hands spanned her rib cage, covered it, then sank lower, molding over her hips to the edge of her skirt. He paused for a fraction, red stockings and flesh beneath his palms, and she tipped her head. Calli quaked, her entire body brimming with pure energy about to detonate. Her gaze drifted upward to meet pale, hooded eyes.

  Her fingers flexed on his shoulders.

  Her breath mingled damply with his.

  And he swallowed it, his mouth devouring hers, more sensual than consuming. More hunger than heat. She didn't know which was more powerful. That, or his hands roaming upward beneath her skirt, fingertips curling behind and enveloping her buttocks.

  A dark groan sounded in his throat.

  She wore a thong and Gabe touched naked skin.

  It nearly destroyed him.

  He could have her now, he thought. Any way he wanted. She was open, vulnerable—and innocent. He could take her body coldly in a couple of thrusts and leave her. Show her no one was trustworthy enough for someone like her. Especially him. That a woman like Calli, a good woman, felt anything for a man like him was beyond his comprehension. That he wanted desperately to touch her with the deliberation of a welcomed lover was the real danger. Yet even as the image of being inside her made him shudder with a nearly uncontrollable need, he knew he had to destroy this.

  "You want it, baby?" His words thrummed against her lips before he kissed them with designed torture. And she responded. Yeah, like leading a lamb to slaughter, he thought. His fingers flexed on her buttocks, drawing a flood of moisture from her. She shifted, restless. "Do you?"

  Calli whimpered, her thoughts clouded, her body combustible.

  His arm snaked around her waist, fusing them as tightly as if they were naked and joined. His mouth against her ear, he whispered, "I could have you now, baby, and you'd never see me again."

  She blinked at the sudden cruelty in his voice. Then he spoke again, harsh and vulgar, telling her what he wanted, using crude words she'd read or heard, but never directed at herself.

  "No!" She shoved at his chest, turning her face away, but he kept on. Calli twisted and pushed, her sensual dream shattering with every syllable like arrows fired into her composure. He wouldn't let her go and she turned her head sharply, sinking her teeth into his tender neck. He hissed and lurched back, covering the spot, checking for blood. Their eyes met, hers filled with humiliation and disappointment, his cold and flat.

  In blatant contempt, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

  He reached over and caught her jaw in his broad hand, fingers biting into her flesh. "Go home, little girl, this is not your playground." He kissed her, hard, lacking even a hint of apology. "It's mine." He turned away, and without looking back, strode to the door. He didn't stop, even when the vase shattered against the doorjamb by his head.

  Calli glared at the empty doorway, shoving hair from her face. Then she looked down at herself and choked back a sob, pushing unsteadily off the dresser. She closed her jacket, her body still thrumming with desire as she staggered to the door. Her shattered equilibrium threatened her every step. She kicked the broken vase outside and slammed the door shut. Closing her eyes, she leveled a few nasty curses at Angel and hoped she'd severed his jugular. God, I am such a fool, she thought. She deserved whatever she got.

  She passed the mirror, her gaze catching her reflection. Her bruised lips curled in disgust. Her eyes were bleary, her hair a tangled mess. Her clothes suffocated her and she stripped them off, dropping them to the floor as she moved toward her bed. She sat heavily, springs creaking.

  Deep inside her, an old wound broke open, fresh hurt rubbing raw. For an instant she was a child left in darkness with strangers. Damn. She squeezed her eyes shut, tears eeking past. He'd humiliated her with her own reaction to him, intentionally, she knew. But somewhere during his attempt to scare her, she'd experienced something wild and raw. And so had he. Part of her admitted that, for several moments there, she'd wanted him, would have done anything to feel his strength and do exactly what he'd whispered in her ear. Another part wanted to beat him senseless, hurt him back.

  Don't trust him. He's bad, a voice said. The nuns had warned her about men like Angel. Dangerous men. Men women went after just because they were tough and hard and without regret. He didn't want anyone to hurt her, except him. She looked up, her eyes narrowing on nothing.

  He didn't want her to trust anyone, including him.

  Just as the thought materialized, so did a wave of nausea and Calli slapped a hand over her mouth, leaping toward the bathroom. Tomorrow, she thought. She would deal with her stupidity tomorrow. She only hoped she would never see him again.

  Sunlight blared through a slice between the drapes and Calli groaned, rolling to her side and covering her head with a pillow. Her mouth tasted like road dust and her brain throbbed, reminding her of last night. How could one drink make her feel this crummy?

  After a few deep breaths, she slithered from the bed like the idiot she was, stopping long enough to order coffee from room service before stepping int
o the shower. She didn't bother to regulate the water and suffered the ice-cold blast before making it warmer. She never wanted to leave. It was safe under the water, away from the hurt blooming slowly in her chest. Damn you, Angel.

  Gradually, her headache lessened and she could actually move without making it worse. No, she decided as pain buffeted her brain. She would stay in here, because looking at herself in the mirror would only relive the memory of Angel's heartlessness. Funny, she thought, that she could remember his passion more than his cruelty.

  Gabe caught the waiter as he made to set the tray by the door. She's in the shower, he realized instantly, hearing the running water through the paper-thin walls and half-open window. Pushing a hefty tip into the server's palm, he took the tray and gave the teenager a leer that spoke volumes. The youth smiled and nodded, then after a moment's hesitation, unlocked the room.

  Gabe set the tray down and closed the door. He noticed her clothes scattered over the floor and collected them in a pile, trying to ignore the red stocking shaped from her leg and the memories that came with it. Tossing them onto the dresser, he wondered why the hell he was here. Sure, he could have left her car at Damien's, let her find a way to get it back, but Gabe felt as if he'd slunk out from under a rock, like the slimy perverts he'd been protecting her from for the past four days.

  Since last night, he'd focused his concern on the one drink she claimed to have had and the strange result. After discreetly taking her keys, in case she got any wild ideas during the night, he'd gone back to Damien's after leaving her, done some checking, and linked her artificial intoxication to a drink she hadn't bought for herself. A man of vague description had walked it over to her from the bar. It was just too suspicious for Gabe's comfort and he felt that her admirer might have slipped her a drug.

  Calli was in trouble, more than she'd ever hoped to find. And if she would quit trusting strangers, quit trying to find danger, it just might not find her. Gabe muttered a curse, hating himself for what he'd done to her, hating that he couldn't find another way around her stubbornness to keep her safe. She was just too willing to test the limits of the wrong people. Including him.

  The phone rang and instinctively he snatched it up.

  "Yeah?"

  "What are you doing there at this hour?" Daniel O'Hara demanded.

  "My job." Gabe stared down at her keys in his hand, then clutched them in his fist. "Did you find anything else?"

  "No. Does she know who you are?"

  Guilt stabbed through Gabe as he glanced at the bathroom door. He dismissed it, remembering the disgusted look in her eyes when he'd talked nasty to her. "You paid for discretion."

  "Your voice says otherwise, Gabe."

  Gabe hated the fatherly warning in Daniel's tone. "Let's just say she won't be trusting me or anyone else for a while."

  "It's a sweet failing of hers." A sigh came through the phone and Daniel's worry with it. Whether it was for himself and his company or Calli, Gabe couldn't be sure. "She has the memo."

  Gabe groaned, plowing his fingers through his dark hair. "Great." How was he supposed to get it? His gaze scanned the room, stopping on her purse, then a leather satchel lying on a luggage rack. "I'll see what I can find."

  "That cat burglar experience comes in handy in your line of work, huh?"

  "Shut up, Danny."

  Daniel cleared his throat.

  "I'll call if I have something to say."

  Daniel scoffed. "I'll be old by then."

  Gabe made to hang up when Daniel's voice caught him. "Hey, Gabe?"

  He put the phone to his ear again, noticing that the shower had stopped. "Make it quick."

  "Don't hurt her. She's like a daughter to me."

  Gabe closed his eyes. Wonderful. Daniel might be just the owner of some dessert company, but he was one mean man when crossed. And Gabe owed him big already.

  "What are you doing here, talking on my phone?" Calli demanded, tightening the sash of her robe.

  His expression blank, Gabe held out the receiver. "Someone named Daniel?"

  Calli's features reddened and she grabbed the phone, turning her back on him. She could feel Angel's gaze move over her terry-cloth robe and she pushed it higher around her neck. While in the bathroom, she'd heard muffled voices and could have sworn Angel was talking to Daniel long before she entered the room. But what would he have to say to her boss? Daniel was likely giving him the third degree, she decided, highly annoyed with both of them.

  "How did you find me?" she snapped, her plan to hide out in New Mexico obviously ruined.

  His laugh was soft. "Well, hello to you, too." Calli made an apologetic sound. "It wasn't hard. What happened to Acapulco?"

  "Nothing. It's still there, I think." She heard him chuckle. "I just changed my mind and decided to drive." She already knew how he'd found her. For emergency's sake she'd left this number with her landlord and Daniel was the one who'd told her about the quaint small town. "Is there something wrong? Why did you track me down?"

  There was a hesitation and then, "I was worried when you didn't show at the company suite in Mexico. Your team asked about you."

  Daniel was lying and she couldn't for the life of her understand why. "What's the matter?" she asked with soft concern, plowing her wet hair back off her face.

  "Nothing, kid. Nothing. Who's the guy?"

  Calli glanced back over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing dangerously. Angel was sprawled on her bed, folded arms pillowing his head, ankles crossed. The arrogant creep, she thought. She picked up an ashtray and threw it at him. He batted it away, then resumed his position. She gestured for him to get out. He simply stared back.

  "He's the waiter." His gaze went flat. "A real pest," she said meaningfully. "And I have to get rid of him."

  "Be careful, Calli."

  Another man playing knight-errant, she thought, and her first impulse was to vent her anger and hurt on Daniel, but he didn't deserve it. He was the best thing to happen to her career since her graduation from the Culinary Institute and she didn't want to dump on him.

  "I will," she said finally. "And tell the seven wizards that just because I'm on vacation doesn't mean they are, too."

  "I will," Daniel laughed. "'Bye, Calli."

  "Later, boss." She hung up, her fingers flexing on the receiver before she shoved them into her robe pockets. She faced Angel. "Get out."

  He said nothing, his cool gaze assessing her as if he'd palmed every inch of her naked body.

  "You have to know you're the absolute last person I want to see. Or are you just a sadist?" He kept quiet and she wanted to kick him. "Why are you here?"

  Leaning up on his elbow, he dangled her keys.

  Her forehead wrinkled. She'd had them last night. She was sure of it. "You stole them?"

  Angel swung his long legs off the bed and straightened. Calli stepped back, and he arched a brow at the sudden move, studying her.

  She was afraid. Good. Lesson achieved.

  "You could have left them at the front desk."

  Gabe shrugged. Sure, he could have, but he'd needed to see her, needed to see for himself that he hadn't smashed that untouchable energy of hers.

  Calli held out her hand and he dropped the keys into her palm. They were warm from handling. She turned away, staring at the keys, then him. He had to have taken them from her purse. She hated to think he'd taken anything else.

  As casually as she could, she poured herself a cup of coffee, realizing he'd gotten inside by way of the waiter. She would have to speak to the hotel management about that.

  "So, are you a thief, as well as a … molester?"

  He stiffened. "The car's outside," he said. The sound of his raspy voice shivered through Calli.

  She gulped hot coffee and met his gaze in the mirror. "Leave, Angel."

  He moved up behind her. She clutched the cup defensively. "How's your head?"

  "What do you care?"

  "I don't." He did. But he didn't want to. She was a case, a
n assignment, nothing more; protect her, get the memo back before Daniel's competitors came after her for it. And if Daniel could find her this easily so could they. Gabe had never guessed the dessert business was so bloodthirsty. "I don't." He shrugged big shoulders. "Just making conversation."

  "Should have tried that last night." Instantly Calli wished the words back and set the cup down with a sharp click.

  He moved up behind her and still she wouldn't face him. "Wouldn't have been as much fun." God, he nearly puked on those words.

  "Jeez," she mumbled, eyes downcast. "I hate to see what you think is pain, then."

  Guilt tightened his features and he was glad she wasn't looking at him. Gabe didn't know what possessed him then, but he leaned down and scented her, his face close to the bare nape of her neck. She didn't smell like soap or shampoo, but of Calli, of innocence and energy and life. He wanted some. Just a little to warm his dark dreams. "You liked it."

  "You have no idea what I like, Angel, honey. But it certainly isn't you!" Her voice fractured, fresh wounds mirrored in her eyes. "Get out," she sneered.

  Angel caught her arms in a gentle hold and pulled her back against him. Calli went still as glass, instantly sensing a difference. His long body was hard against her back, her soft buttocks, and raw desire burst like a newborn star. Calli struggled against it, against the urge to open her robe and let him touch her.

  Gabe felt it, too; her quickening breath, the sudden tightness of her small, naked body beneath the thick terry cloth. Blood rushed to his groin. His fingers flexed on her arms. He didn't want to know what she was feeling that easily, didn't want to be such an intense part of it. Yet he turned her to face him, tipping her chin till she looked him in the eye.

  His fingers sank into her hair as he covered her mouth with his. Calli immediately fought. But his kiss was different than the last; gentle, probing. Unhurried and seething with suppressed desire. Her heart thundered against the wall of her chest. Her knees softened. Her resistance melted a fraction more, but instinct born in survival, in a little girl left to fend alone years ago, kept her from giving him what he coaxed to the surface.