THE UNLIKELY BODYGUARD

by Amy J. Fetzer

  "Loading up on ammunition?" he growled softly in her ear.

  She hefted the onion, her expression sly. "These are white. Only yellow ones for beaning some sense into you." She dropped it into the sack.

  "Calli?"

  "Hmm?" She was tying off the bag, trying to be nonchalant when her heart was racing around her chest like disturbed bees.

  "I was, ah, I mean … I'm—" He looked everywhere but at her.

  She blinked, stunned he was tongue-tied. "Are you apologizing?" she whispered.

  "I'm trying," he muttered, irritated, then frowned, his gaze searching hers, the unusual brightness of her eyes. Gabe felt something hard shatter inside him. His features tightened. A chill prickled his skin. "Are those tears?"

  "Of course not." She blinked rapidly. She was touched. Deeply. She knew what that cost him and without thinking of breaking her rules, she stood on tiptoe and brushed her mouth across his. For the briefest moment, he shaped her lips with his.

  "Is there anything else I can get you, ma'am?" Calli whirled around, as if just remembering they were in the store.

  It took a moment for Gabe to drag his gaze from her, then plant it on the manager, a thought suddenly occurring to him. Calli might be recognizable, because of her job and the high-profile company. Gabe didn't want anyone to know she was in town. It would clue Murdock in if he was still around.

  "Peaches and coconuts?"

  His expression was apologetic. "Season's over for peaches and we rarely get fresh coconuts."

  "Rats," she muttered as they walked away.

  "I don't think they carry them," Gabe said lowly.

  She laughed, a throaty curl of sound that skated over his skin like a brush of cool wind, before she said, "You know I planned this menu—" she waved the paper "—for the next few days, but didn't ask you what you preferred."

  He shrugged. "Anything's fine."

  So responsive, she thought with a small smile. "What do you not like?"

  He stopped and stared off in the distance for a moment. "Grilled cheese, refried beans, tomato soup and macaroni and cheese."

  "Yu-uck," she said with feeling. A hint of a smile curved his lips before he looked at her. "I assure you, those aren't on the menu."

  He peered at it, trying to read her writing. It was in shorthand. Did she do that to her recipes, too?

  She headed briskly to the meat counter and purchased all she needed, too aware that he'd moved off to the side and waited, arms folded, his gaze hard and direct on her. She felt hunted instead of guarded. She cast a quick glance at him, noticing the store's customers still made a wide berth to avoid even looking at him. But he didn't seem to care. My Lord, did they think he was going to bite the heads off their children or something? It made her angry to see him treated this way. He'd suffered enough and she inclined her head to him and quickened her pace, selecting spices, oils and pasta.

  "You really need all this?" he said from her side.

  "I have a new recipe I want to try for Excalibur and what better way to let my creativity flow? I usually have to consult with the guys when I'm in the test kitchen."

  "You really don't mind cooking, for us, then?"

  He sounded surprised. Did he think cooking was torture?

  She grabbed two different grinds of brown sugar off the shelf and glanced at him. "I look at it this way." She dropped them into the cart and pushed on. "I always make desserts, and rarely get to prepare anything normal, even for myself." She leaned close and whispered, "I have a thing for Chinese takeout, but don't let that get around."

  "Your secret's safe," he muttered dryly, staring down at her.

  "I knew I could trust you," she said, patting his hand where it lay on the cart handle and trying not to notice how his eyes flared whenever she touched him. "This is my chance to see if I can still create dishes that aren't full of outrageous ingredients nor expensive."

  Was she doing that for him and his ranch hands or testing herself? Because she'd proven she was an expert today. But he wasn't going to remind her about lunch. He didn't want to see that smile vanish.

  "We're done."

  "Thank God," he grumbled as they headed to the checkout where he noticed several men stopping to stare at her as she bent over to unload the groceries onto the conveyor. He moved up behind her, shielding her.

  Calli stilled as she placed a sack onto the counter and twisted to look at him. His face was so near she could feel the heat of him, and she let her gaze lower to his chiseled mouth, then back to his eyes. He inhaled through clenched teeth, his leg shifting to brush the side of hers. Heat scrambled up her body to her breasts. Her breath quickened. The noise surrounding them seem to fade.

  She didn't think grocery shopping could be so arousing.

  But the moment was broken when the cashier called out the total. She found her checkbook, laying it on the counter, but he slapped a hand over it before she could write. She looked at him, straightening. He held her gaze as he withdrew his wallet, pried open the leather and tossed money onto the counter.

  Calli slid her checkbook back into her purse, waited till he received his change, then grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers with his. She moved through the narrow aisle and wouldn't let go, shaking her head to the attendant as they passed through the automatic doors. She knew if she broke contact he would retreat into that remoteness she was beginning to sense like a cold wind.

  Gabe stared down at the tiny manicured hand clasped in his, delicate against his dark, rough fist. It looked unnatural to him, foreign. He brought his gaze to her profile, to the bright lime-green headband holding back shiny black hair.

  Snow White, he thought again as they stopped at the car. He took her keys from her and opened the trunk. With the erotic thoughts going through his head as his gaze shimmered over her body, he sure as hell didn't feel like a Prince Charming.

  * * *

  Six

  « ^ »

  "You've had a funny look on your face since we left the store," she said as they drove back in the twilight darkness to his place. "What gives?"

  He slid her a thin glance, arching a brow, then murmured, "You don't want to know."

  "Oh, yes I do." That look bordered on decadent.

  His fingers flexed on the steering wheel. "Red satin panties."

  Calli blushed to the roots of her hair and sank into the seat. "I should never have told you."

  And he should never have told her he'd been penniless, he thought, suddenly swamped with those same feelings he had known as a kid. Helpless, vulnerable. Ashamed. Bracing his arm on the door and plowing his fingers through his hair, he wished he could erase the last hour. Well, almost, he admitted, tapping fingers across his smile. Not the way she wasn't embarrassed to be seen with someone as goofy-looking as him, nor her gentle teasing or the way she touched him, breaking her rules. And not her tears. That moment was forged in his memory, clear and precise; the way she tilted her head, her glossy blue eyes and quivering lip. All Gabe wanted to do in that instant was soothe her. Make her discomfort go away. It wasn't an instinct he was familiar with. No one had ever cried for him. Hell, there were people who cried because of crud he'd done, but never for giving a lousy apology. Gabe didn't know what to think about rich and sophisticated Calli Thornton. Except that she confused the hell out of him.

  He stole a glance at her. Her eyes were closed, her body curled toward him, her cheek on the back of the seat. Gabe suddenly felt the weight of the day, too. His body ached and not so much from hard work, but from fighting his need to lose himself in the woman dozing beside him. Instinct told him to find the memo, end his torture, and send her home. And a part of him, which was growing wider by the day, said keep her here as long as he could and experience the gentle heart and passion he'd never known before laying eyes on her.

  Great, he was being philosophical now.

  His eyes on the road, he cursed softly when he passed the spot where he'd left his bike and found the Harley gone. He hoped Bull had taken it
back to the ranch. He gunned the engine, thinking about how much work it took to pay for the bike. As he rounded the long drive and saw the bike against the barn, he sighed with relief, promising to give Bull a raise when he had the cash.

  Then the old man came rushing from the barn, waving frantically. Gabe pulled under the lights, throwing the car into park. Calli stirred at the abrupt halt, childishly rubbing her face, then blinking.

  Gabe was out of the car and talking to Bull when she climbed out.

  Gabe looked at her over the top of the car. "The mare's foaling."

  "Really?" she squeaked, excited.

  "Can you unload the—"

  She held up her hand. "Say no more." Immediately, he turned his back on her and spoke with Bull in hushed, hurried tones. Calli felt as if a door just slammed in her face. "Can I help?" she ventured.

  "No!" he barked, and she stared, wide-eyed. "No. Just stay away."

  Hurt sprang into her eyes and Gabe opened his mouth to say something, then clamped his lips shut and stormed off.

  Bull scowled, then shrugged, following his boss.

  Calli watched him until he entered the barn, leaving her with ten bags of groceries and confused at the abrupt change. He's shutting me out, again. Solemnly, she slid into the driver's seat and started her car, driving it close to the porch and unloading the groceries. After parking her car away from the house, she switched on the outside lights and touched a match to a pair of kerosene lanterns she'd found, hanging them on nails in the support posts.

  Knowing Gabe and Bull would be busy most of the night, she prepared a quick snack of hero sandwiches and red corn tortilla chips with dilled chickpea and onion salsa. While she brewed spearmint tea flavored with orange juice, she squinted into the night toward the barn. She couldn't see much, only shadows against the bright lights inside the barn.

  He doesn't want you there, she thought when she considered going in anyway. It stung that he could close her out so easily. Especially after today. Hefting the tray of food, she brought it into the house, then left a note on the fridge instructing that it was on the dining table. Calli was exhausted. Too much fresh air, she consoled, but knew it was a lie. Too much Gabriel Griffin for one day.

  Calli entered her room, kicked off her sandals and fell onto the bed. She was asleep in seconds.

  And half an hour later, Gabe stood in the doorway, his lips quirking. She was sprawled facedown across the bed, still dressed and snoring softly. She was too beautiful, he thought, his gaze roaming hotly over her. He'd come in for something to eat and when he found the note and the tray, he'd half expected her to be standing in the middle of the living room, brandishing a frying pan. Bull was in the barn, eating, but Gabe needed to see her without her looking back. Staring into those eyes that mirrored her every emotion, was a little hard to take sometimes.

  He shouldn't get comfortable around her, he kept telling himself.

  But he kept coming back to the same spot … anywhere near her.

  Gently, he pulled a quilt from beneath her feet and covered her. She stirred softly and he lurched back. She jammed a pillow beneath her cheek and wiggled into the mattress. Gabe's gaze moved over her, then her room. Her briefcase lay in the corner. Now would be a good time to search, he thought, but didn't, the strength of his apprehension drawing his gaze repeatedly back to Calli. Before his imagination had her sprawled across his dreams and not that bed, Gabe left.

  Calli stirred, blinked, then looked at her watch. Only an hour of sleep? Rolling over, she stretched, noting it was still dark and the faint sound of a vehicle fading into the distance. She left the bed, running her hand through her hair, then a brush. She headed to the bathroom and scrubbed her face, brushed her teeth and was about to step into the bedroom to undress and get into bed when she noticed a sandwich still wrapped and on the tray. She glanced down the hall, wondering if he'd gone to bed without eating or if he was still in the barn. Grabbing an old leather jacket off a coat stand, she donned it against the desert cold, then left the house, noticing Bull's truck was missing. The light from the barn was dimmer and instantly she knew Gabe was still there.

  She lit charcoal in the grill and put a pot of coffee on to brew. If he had to stay with the horse all night, he would need something to keep him awake. Any normal ranch cook would do the same, she assured herself, impatient for the coffee to perk. She had to hunt, yet found a thermos and a small cooler. She packed the cooler with a few sandwiches and some sliced fruit. Then, grabbing two mugs, she walked toward the barn, the full thermos tucked under her arm. As she approached, her steps slowed and her apprehension grew. He didn't want her here, she reminded herself, then decided that if he wanted her gone, well … she would argue with him.

  She stepped into the barn, moving cautiously toward the lit stall. Instantly she lurched back when he leaned out from his position on the floor and pointed a gun at her.

  "Hail Mary!" she breathed, and he cursed softly, disappearing from her sight into the stall. She'd never seen him look at her like that. A stare so cold and lifeless it made her shiver. Calli swallowed several times before she ventured closer. At the entrance, she stared down at him. His back was against the wall, knees bent, forearms braced there. He hung his head between his arms. The gun was still in his hand.

  "You feel the need for a gun on your own property?"

  Slowly he tipped his head back and glared at her. "I have enemies."

  "Well, I'm not one of them!" she snapped, still frightened by the vicious look she'd seen in his eyes.

  He shrugged. "I thought you were asleep."

  "News flash," she said, laughing uneasily. "Now put that thing away."

  Gabe twisted to the side, set the safety, and laid the gun in the corner. He returned his gaze to her. She hadn't moved. And he could tell by the way her fingers trembled as she brushed back her hair, he'd scared her. Normally, he would have not given the matter a second thought, considering she'd come unannounced. But this was Calli.

  A warm sensation bloomed in his chest when he noticed she was nearly swallowed up in his old leather jacket, the sleeves about five inches too long.

  She held out the beat-up cooler and thermos.

  "Hungry?"

  "You can leave it there." He gestured somewhere behind her. "And go back to the house."

  "No."

  He arched a brow, his expression threatening. "No?"

  "Good. You can hear," she said primly, then folded down to the ground adjacent him, uncapping the thermos and pouring some coffee. She held out the mug, smiling.

  "Calli." He said it like a warning, taking the cup. In the far corner of the stall, the mare pawed the ground, its body sheened in sweat.

  "Yes, Gabriel?"

  "I don't need you here."

  "Don't need or is it that you don't want me here?"

  "Both."

  That stung. "Too bad, bad boy. You don't own me, we aren't married, not that that would make a difference in decisions about my life, anyway," she told him, pouring coffee for herself. "So, just give it up."

  "This is my ranch."

  Her gaze flew to his. "Oooh, territorial." She shivered dramatically. "Well, then," she said with an indrawn breath, "I'll be leaving for Mexico in the morning. I guess I'd better pack."

  She set the cup aside and stood.

  "No!" Then, softer, an irritated growl. "Dammit, you can't."

  She peered at him. "And why is that?"

  She waited, arms folded, and felt his gaze as it moved up her legs, her torso, to her face. She arched a brow.

  Gabe scrambled for a way to keep her from leaving without revealing the truth behind her stay.

  "You're broke."

  "Only till Monday."

  "You're the cook."

  That was an even weaker excuse and her sour face said as much. "You could hire anyone from town for this job."

  "No, I couldn't." There was pause and something flickered in his eyes. "No one would come."

  Her shoulders drooped
, her mutinous expression fading. "You asked? Placed ads, I mean?"

  He nodded. "I seem to scare people off."

  The sad fact was that he'd likely alienated himself to the point of being the town mystery, but to not take a job? "Those lousy sons of—"

  That she was angry on his behalf stirred an unfamiliar warmth in his chest. "Sit down, Calli." He stared at his lap, hiding a smile. "You're not going anywhere."

  "Says you." Fire lit her eyes, her hands on her hips. She wanted an admittance, something that would give her a clue to where this man was coming from.

  With a speed she couldn't fight, Gabe reached out, grasped the jacket sleeve and yanked. She dropped to the ground, glaring at him. "Yeah, says me. We made a deal. Or are you going to welch out and run for cover?" He arched a brow, the challenge clear.

  She looked like an insurgent prepared for battle. "Oh, be serious. You don't scare me, Gabriel."

  "That a fact?" His gaze slid to her, a wintry stare that chilled her. What did she really know about him? she wondered, staring into his incredible eyes. It didn't matter, she decided in the next heartbeat. The invisible enemies, hotel robbers or guys like Tiny were just insignificant factors. Gabe's insistence that she stay told her he cared, that there was more bark to his lethal bite.

  She blinked innocently. "Yes."

  His lips quirked. She wasn't backing down and he liked that about her.

  The mare suddenly folded to the ground and he moved to the horse, sliding his hands over her distended belly. The beast made a choked sound and Calli knelt.

  "Is there anything I can do?"

  He shook his head and the animal grunted, hind legs jerking with the waves of pain. "It will be a little longer wait," he said more to himself.

  He looked worried, she thought, then opened the cooler and unwrapped a sandwich. When he sat back on his rear, she held it out to him. He accepted it gratefully and though his eyes never left the horse, he devoured the sandwich. Calli ate a half slowly and couldn't take her eyes off him. The slightest movement brought him to the animal. He wiped spit from the horse's mouth, stroked her lovingly and whispered encouragement. His features were hard with purpose, yet his hands gentle as they probed the animal's belly, long brown fingers humming over the dark coat. It was a side of him she never dreamed existed.