THE UNLIKELY BODYGUARD

by Amy J. Fetzer

  "Your seat not good enough?" she said a little breathlessly, inclining her head to the other side of the table.

  "The view's better here." His right hand covered her thigh just below the hem of her dress.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Tempting you."

  "This is that good-girl thing, isn't it?" His hand slid subtly beneath her hem. She caught it, covered it with her own. "Gabriel?"

  A mischievous smile curved his lips. "Ever been daring, Cal, really daring?" He propped his left forearm on the back of the leather seat, his fingers toying with a lock of her hair, his gaze on his movements. To anyone who looked, they appeared to be having an intimate conversation.

  "Of course."

  "When?"

  "Coming to your ranch," she offered.

  "No. I mean outrageous."

  He said it like a taunt, a secret. "What are you getting at?" She was almost afraid to find out.

  He leaned in a bit closer, his right hand moving higher, the coarse texture of his fingertips stirring over her skin, arousing her.

  "I remember this morning," he growled in her ear, and she made a weakening sound. "How you felt, inside. It was incredible. I want it again." His fingertips met the apex of her thighs and a flood of moisture dampened her skin. "Open for me, tigress."

  Calli swallowed nervously and met his gaze. "No." She couldn't believe he was touching her like this! In public!

  "Look around you. No one is watching." Her gaze breezed the crowd. He was right. "So private." His fingertip rode up the thin fabric of her panties. "Yet so public."

  "Gabriel."

  He made a hissing sound. "I like when you say my name like that, all breathy and deep." He could feel the moist heat of her and tempted her across the line between playing it safe … and taking risks. "Open for me." His hand nudged her and without thought she complied, his touch branding her. Then he hooked the side of her panties and deftly slipped a finger between the soft, dewy folds.

  Calli gasped, tensed.

  "No, don't move. Look at me," he told her, and she did. He stroked her, gently introducing another finger and pushing deeper, his thumb circling the delicate bead of her sex. Feminine flesh gripped and flexed. "I can feel you wanting me," he whispered. "In a roomful of people you're too aroused to fight it. Do you know what that does to me?"

  Calli briefly closed her eyes, her hand slipping to his leg. She squeezed. A muscle flexed in his jaw. She knew what it did. The evidence of his need strained against his jeans, against her touch.

  The waitress brought their drinks, setting them on the table. Calli lifted her gaze to the girl. The waitress smiled tightly, cast a quick look at the back of Gabe's head, then left.

  "See?" He deepened his touch, quickened it. She bit back a moan. "Shh," he whispered. "Laugh."

  "I can't" came her pant. Her blood rushed in her ears, thoughts too crowded to even consider thinking. Dishes clattered, people called out, laughed, a child cried somewhere in the recesses of the restaurant, but Calli's world narrowed to the man beside her, his fingers stroking over her most private area in a very public place. It was erotic, exciting, and ultimately the most daring thing she'd ever done. Like getting away with a crime.

  "Look at me." She held his gaze as he stroked her. His breathing was harsh, his features tight with unclaimed need. "I want to taste you there, hold you against me and feel you ride my mouth." She moaned, tight and clipped. "Let it go, tigress." Then it happened, her body sang, throbbed, and he pushed and pushed. She curled toward him, grasping the band of his jeans with both hands. Her lips parted, a soft shudder spilling from her lips and into his mouth. He drank it, the dampness of her breath whispering over his lips. A near kiss.

  She inhaled short, quick breaths, and his touch lessened, holding her on the edge of completion for several moments. His gaze searched hers, pale and sparkling and pleased. Then she sank, into him, into the seat.

  "Sweet," he said softly, curling the words around his tongue. Calli loosened her grip on his waistband and closed her eyes. A rush of color filled her cheeks. He chuckled lowly and her skin fused darker.

  Slowly he removed his hand and used the napkin lying across her lap. His gaze caressed her as he inhaled through clenched teeth. "Outrageous."

  Calli swallowed, took a hasty sip of her drink, then lifted her gaze. "Dangerous," she corrected.

  He pressed his lips to her temple and beneath the guard of the tablecloth, his hand slid over her stomach and caressed her hip. "Want to do it again?"

  She tipped her head back to look at him, studying him briefly. "You're serious," came a tiny shriek.

  "I've touched you." A pause and then, "Now I want to taste you."

  She choked and Gabe chuckled darkly and decided it was time to give her a break. He shifted out of her seat and into his. He let out a soft groan as he sat.

  "Hurt?"

  His gaze sharpened on her. His lips quirked. "What do you think?"

  "I think you are paying the price of your own behavior."

  There was smugness in her tone he found intriguing. "I'll get over it."

  He was in pain. He had to be. She'd felt the hard length of his arousal when she'd gripped his jeans. It had practically burned her. Calli tried mustering up some dignity when all she could think of was how they'd spent the last few moments. One of these days, she thought, she would have to find the nerve to pay him back in spades.

  The waitress returned, sliding their orders in front of them.

  "Calli, what is this?" His gaze shifted between the plates.

  "Food." He gave her an impatient smile and she wondered how he could dismiss what they'd just done so easily. Her body was still humming. "Poached eggs in flour crepes, hash browns with onions and mushrooms, and a side of sausage." She picked up her fork and speared her crepe. "All for the startlingly low price of five ninety-five." She sampled it. Her smile fell, her eyes widening.

  His chuckle was soft. "Tastes like it, too, huh?"

  She chewed and swallowed, then gulped her drink. "Good grief, it's salty!" she sputtered, then valiantly took a bite of the hash browns. It was just as bad. And they went downhill from there. She set aside her fork and lifted her gaze to his. Gabe, wisely, had not touched his lunch. "Sorry."

  "Not your fault," he told her, his lips twitching.

  She glanced around. "How can business be so good, if the food is so bad?" The place was packed.

  "I think they do burgers and fries better than this." He nodded to his untouched plate.

  Calli inclined her head to the side. "Ready to blow this joint?"

  Gabe smiled, slid from the seat and tossed a few bills onto the table. Her eyes wouldn't obey and she lowered to the front of his jeans.

  "Oh, my." His gaze flashed to hers, a crooked smile ghosting his lips. "Can you walk?"

  Her skin pinkened and he laughed. It brought heads around. But it was still very obvious he was aroused. Calli grabbed his hand and, using her body to shield him, they headed out. The waitress froze in the center aisle, her hands full of steaming plates as they passed her.

  "Something wrong, Mr. Griffin?"

  "Nothing you can fix," he muttered. Outside, she stopped, her hands on his biceps as she tipped her head back to look at him. Then in the full light of half the town, he kissed her, the hot force of his mouth burning over her lips. The contact was like the ignition of jet fuel. A flash of fire and heat. Unfinished desire and the need for satisfaction blazed, and he groaned deeply, dragging her tightly against him, his mouth slanting savagely back and forth over hers.

  Calli felt his hands ride heavily up her back, fist in her clothes, in her body, as if to push her into his skin. His kiss was utterly possessive, devouring, and Calli had the distinct feeling he was staking his claim. When he pulled back, her lips were numb and he was breathing hard. She was as stunned as he.

  "Wow." They spoke in unison.

  Slowly he let her go, a funny grin brightening his features. But just as quickly it fa
ded. He stared somewhere behind her and she followed the direction of his gaze. A man in ragged clothing stood off to the side of the diner on the edge of the lot.

  "Spare some change, mister?"

  Gabe fished for his wallet, but it was empty. He cursed, then quickly scrounged in his pockets, pulling out a crumpled dollar bill, crossing to hand it to the old man. "Wish it was more, pal," he said softly, and Calli recognized the sincerity in his voice. Would she ever understand this man?

  Gabe faced her, frowning softly. She had a peculiar look on her face, as if she'd just discovered something odd. He was about to ask her about it when she walked to the truck.

  Calli kept her thoughts to herself and climbed into the cab. "Someone needs to teach you the fine art of selecting a restaurant."

  Gabe backed out of the parking lot, his gaze in the rearview mirror. "Someone needs to teach their chef what real cooking is."

  "Did you do that on purpose? Choose such a rotten place that I would be forced to cook this afternoon?"

  His head snapped around. "No! I've only been in there once or twice."

  "Chill out, Gabe, I was just teasing. And I hope all you ever did in there was eat."

  "Food, yes."

  "Gabriel," she scolded, and that raspy chuckle came again. She liked hearing it, loved his smile, even if they were just little ones. She cast a look out the back window at the diner. "But I really would like to know how that place stays in operation with such lousy cuisine."

  "Great place to have under-the-table sex?" he offered.

  "Gabriel!"

  He grinned, winking at her, and Calli sank into the seat. She laughed softly to herself, shaking her head. She still couldn't believe she'd allowed such a thing. But it was good, she thought, feeling wicked and sexy. So good. Working off her sandals, she propped her feet on the dusty dash, wiggling her painted toes.

  Gabe almost went off the road twice just staring at her bare legs. As he drove, he nudged a large paper sack toward her. Calli arched a tapered brow.

  "For you," was all he said. He'd never given anyone anything before. What if she didn't like it?

  She grabbed the sack and opened it, peering inside.

  "Well, you've been busy this morning. How did you find these?"

  He shrugged, noncommittally, but the pleasure on her face made him indescribably happy.

  Calli hugged the bagful of fresh peaches and coconuts. It was better than receiving diamonds. That he'd remembered and hunted them down told her more about him than words. She leaned over, clutching the bag to her chest, then gripped his arm to pull him close. She brushed a kiss to his cheek.

  "Thank you, Gabriel." He thought he heard a catch in her voice, but wasn't sure. Then he dismissed it as she sighed deeply and closed her eyes. The contentment on her face wrenched his heart. It wouldn't last and he knew she expected him to take more from her. That wasn't going to happen. It would just magnify the lie he was living. He didn't deserve to have her in his bed the way he wanted, the way he'd dreamed of since he'd first clapped eyes on her. And he could never have her in his life permanently. He hated himself for even thinking further than today. He was a selfish, lying bastard and he wanted more than just combustible sex with sweet Calli Thornton. Yet, he was willing to experience her passion as often as he could, give only to her, before he went completely mad. That would be a fitting price for lying to her. And he really didn't deserve even that.

  "Son of a bitch!"

  "What?" she said, sitting up and blinking as they pulled onto the drive. She inhaled. "The gate's open!"

  "I know." Regret filled his voice. The truck raced up the drive. Gabe cursed again. The colt was gone.

  * * *

  Nine

  « ^ »

  Gabe slammed on the brakes, threw the gear into park and was out of the truck before Calli knew what was happening.

  The corral was empty and she knew both mother and child were gone. And that someone had to have let them out. There were no tire tracks, no breakage on the fence or locks.

  "Who would have done such a thing?"

  "Could be one of several," he muttered as he stormed into the barn, checking the other mounts and finding them unharmed.

  Damn. Dave Rubeck was going to think he'd sold off his horse and the colt. Hell, he'd had to talk fast and deal to get him to offer him the foal in the first place. Even though the mare was trail quality, the colt was sired by a decent Thoroughbred. Gabe had seen it as his only chance to gain some stock of his own. He muttered a curse and drew a gelding from the stall, immediately throwing on a blanket. He was lifting the saddle onto the mount's back when Calli came into the barn.

  "I'm sorry."

  It was the sound of her voice that made him look up.

  He cursed again, dropping the saddle and coming to her, tipping her head back. A lone tear skated down her cheek.

  "Aw, hell, Cal, don't cry." He could face losing his ranch better than her tears.

  "This is my fault." She crunched the paper bag of peaches and coconuts in her fist.

  His brows drew down. "How you figure?"

  "If I hadn't wanted to stay in town, you wouldn't have felt guilty and taken me into the restaurant. We might have been here before anything could have happened."

  "This has nothing to do with you."

  She shrugged, but Gabe didn't think she believed him. "You're going to look."

  "They can't be too far."

  She nodded and turned away. He went back to saddling the horse.

  "We should call the police," she said.

  "No!"

  She turned back to look at him, frowning. "Gabe, someone did this to you, intentionally."

  "I know."

  "Why? And don't tell me it's your enemies."

  No, he thought, it's yours. Whoever did this knew he would go looking for the mare and colt, and that he wouldn't leave Calli behind alone. But her suitcase and journal would be. It was a lame cover-up.

  "Just don't call anyone," he warned.

  Involving the police meant telling Calli why she was really here and fessing up to his lies. He didn't want her gone, just yet. He couldn't even let the thought enter his head right now. He was in deep trouble on that score. But he wasn't about to let someone else stick their nose in his affairs and he would be damned if he would allow her to find out this way. Gabe wondered if he would ever have the guts to tell her what he'd done. Unable to look her in the eye, he turned away and finished saddling the horse.

  Fine, keep your damn secrets, Calli thought as she left the barn.

  "Don't go inside just yet," he said, and when she didn't respond, he turned.

  He cursed, heading to the house in a dead run. He called her name, once, twice, then frantically when she didn't answer right away.

  She poked her head out her bedroom door. "Good grief, Gabe, I'm right here."

  He sagged against the door frame, shoving his hand through his hair. He wouldn't look at her just yet, afraid of what he'd do if he crossed the room and touched her.

  "All right, Griffin, what's going on?" She filled the doorway, tucking her shirt into black jeans.

  Gabe looked around his house. Everything was in its place. "I thought whoever let the colt loose might be in here."

  Calli's harsh expression faded to a tender smile. For all his abruptness, his rough edges, inside, Gabe Griffin was a marsh-mallow. And he cared. A lot more than he let on. "Faker. Faker, faker," she crooned like a kid.

  He looked at her and arched one brow.

  "You aren't so tough, Gabriel." She crossed to him. "And I can take care of myself, you know."

  He scoffed gently. "You're a shrimp."

  She shrugged and darted back into her room for her jacket.

  "Any signs that someone was in your room?"

  "No." Why would they? she thought. No one knew she was here. "And I don't have anything left to steal." She breezed past him out the door. "Except a few lace panties," she taunted.

  Gabe caught her
arm.

  She rolled her eyes. "Get that smirk off your face. It's evil." Gabe chuckled to himself, then his features hardened. "That book, ah, journal. Better lock it in the car."

  "It already is."

  He nodded, thinking it was going to be harder to search through it if he needed the key to get past her car alarms. God, he was no better than the creep who'd let loose his colt, he thought, locking up the house.

  He tipped his head to look at her. "You ever ridden a horse?"

  "Yes," she said too quickly as she stepped under the porch, dragging bread and cold cuts from the fridge. She was not going to be left behind, neither would she admit that yes, she had sat on a horse. A pony. At a church carnival. She was likely the only Texan who couldn't ride. What could be so difficult?

  "We don't have time for that." He gestured to the sandwich she was cutting.

  She didn't look up as she wrapped it neatly and started another. "Go saddle up, cowboy." That made her smile and she could almost feel him scowling at her. "If I'm not ready by the appointed time, you can leave without me."

  Gabe wasn't about to let her out of his sight and hurried into the barn to saddle a horse for her.

  Calli went into overdrive, grabbing up a burlap sack still holding a few apples and adding some more fruit to go with the sandwiches. She was juggling the sack and tying her jacket around her waist when he led the horses out of the barn. Calli refused to show her apprehension as she tied the sack to the pommel and with as much courage as she could, swung up into the saddle. Gabe did the same and glanced back.

  "Oh, my lord," she muttered under her breath. The ground looked too far away.