Unbidden an image of Huck’s big hands sliding down her bare back, that hot sexy mouth feeding at hers, materialized in her mind’s eye making the air vanish from her lungs. A pulse of heat throbbed between her legs and her palms tingled, aching for the feel his warm skin beneath her hands. How could she ache for something she’d never had? How could she burn when he hadn’t so much as touched her? Better still, how in the hell was she going to mask the attraction if she drooled at the mere sight of him?
Enough, Sapphira thought, forcing herself to focus. “Have you talked to Carmen?”
Cindy nodded. “This morning. She’s doing well. Ready to have the baby, but otherwise fine. Her next appointment is on Wednesday at two. She told me to tell you that she’d understand if you couldn’t make it.”
“Understanding won’t keep her from being disappointed,” Sapphira told her, letting go a sigh. “I’ll have to work something out.”
“You’ve already played the yearly-visit-to-the-gyno card for last week’s appointment. How are you going to swing it again so soon with Huck? Tell him you have some sort of VD?”
“Of course, not,” Sapphira said, shooting her friend a revolted glare. “I’ll tell him that one of my tests needs to be redone.” Pap smears were notorious for that sort of thing, not that he would have ever heard of one. But if he happened to press the matter--which she sincerely doubted--it sounded authentic enough.
“You could always let me go,” Cindy suggested.
“I need you to go where we know I can’t,” Sapphira reminded her. “You haven’t forgotten about the mentoring meeting downtown tonight, have you?”
Cindy made a moue of regret. “No, but I wish you had. I don’t like going down there. It’s creepy.”
She had to admit the inner city after dark gave her a slight pause as well, but the area around Reverend Alton’s church was policed quite well. Having been an advocate for the area for years, the reverend had contacted Belle Charities about making donations to his various causes--after school programs for kids, continuing education for adults and Sapphira’s favorite cause, mentoring young unwed mothers.
Her own experience aside, in many cases these girls were virtually alone with no one to help them become the mothers and providers they would need to be in order to rear a successful, healthy, well-rounded, drug free child. Though she’d lost her own baby, Sapphira still knew that becoming a mother in the best of circumstances was difficult enough--becoming one with little to no education, spotty nutrition and no help was much worse.
In order to accommodate the growing demand for mentors and firmly believing that one could make a difference, Sapphira had asked for volunteer Belles to become mentors. Like Cindy, many had been nervous about that particular area of town, but ultimately everyone who’d begun to participate had decided the risk was worth the reward.
Naturally Sapphira understood Cindy’s reticence--even Ella had been a little worried about her traveling into the inner city area--but Reverend Alton would ensure her safety and bottom line, as second in command, Cindy had to be there in Sapphira’s absence.
“Let’s see,” Cindy drawled thoughtfully. “You get to go home with that good-looking guy out there and I get to go step over used needles and pray that I don’t get mugged--or worse,” she added direly with a delicate shudder. “Who’s getting the better end of the deal here?”
Sapphira couldn’t help but smile. “On the surface you probably think that I am, but let me put it into perspective for you. Yes, I get to go home with that good-looking man out there. But I don’t get to touch him or talk to him about anything of importance.” She winced. “Instead, I get the happy job of making him think that I am shallow, spoiled, self-absorbed and relatively unintelligent.” Her heart drooped a little lower with every unflattering adjective. “Because, at the end of the day, I have to make him dislike me to the point that he quits, or at the very least, asks to be assigned to another case.”
Understanding dawned slowly in her friend’s intelligent gaze. “And you want him to like you.”
“I want everyone to like me,” Sapphira said, shifting uncomfortably.
“You didn’t care of the other three liked you,” she countered. “You didn’t like playing the part, but you didn’t give a rip whether the other security specialists personally liked you or not.” Her gaze narrowed. “What’s different about this one?”
Sapphira sighed. “You mean aside from the fact that he made my toes curl? I-- I don’t know. I just...”
“Like him,” Cindy finished, a slow knowing smile curling her lips. “You like this one and you don’t want him to hate you.”
In a nutshell, she supposed that was the truth. She’d never reacted so strongly to a person before in her life--not just physically, which had been disconcerting in and of itself. Sexual attraction aside, there was something more to Lucas Finn, a wounded look behind those curious gray eyes, a sense of sadness lurking beneath that sexy smile. Something haunted him, Sapphira instinctively knew and the urge to discover his ghosts and exorcise them for him was as strong as her need to breathe. Odd when she’d only been in his company a few hours, but she couldn’t deny it all the same. Those issues combined with that rock-your-world smile and I-could-break-you-like-a-twig strength made him lethally appealing.
Unfortunately, ghosts or no, his very presence endangered everything she’d worked so hard to achieve. Too many people were dependent on her to let a little thing like whether or not her bodyguard liked her interfere. She had to keep the bigger picture in focus, not just the one he presented.
He had to hate her, Sapphira thought resignedly.
And the sooner the better.
CHAPTER 4
“How’s it going so far?”
Huck shot a dark look across the lingerie section of the department store and stifled the growing urge to howl. “Fine,” he lied into his cell phone, forcing a smile so that maybe it would actually reach his voice. “Everything’s going fine.”
Jamie Flanagan’s low laugh rumbled into his ear. “Bullshit. What? She’s got you out shopping with her, doesn’t she? I can hear the music. Shoes or panties?”
Huck blinked. “Come again?”
“If she’s not carrying the dog to have her hair colored or visiting the gynecologist, then she’s either shopping for shoes or looking at panties. The woman can flat waste some time in a store and typically, it’s one that is designed to make a man miserable.”
Huck rubbed the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. “We’re in the panty store,” he admitted, mortified.
He heard Flanagan share that tidbit with the rest of the group and a chorus of you-poor-bastard laughter reached his ears. “S-sorry, man. But better you than me. I served my time. I feel for you.”
He felt for himself and he hadn’t even reached the end of the first day with her yet. Honestly, she’d been ogling undergarments--slinky, sexy, sheer things held together with tiny bits of lace and thread--for the better part of an hour. He’d watched her disappear into the fitting room, hands loaded down with matching bras and panties and, evidently his imagination was much better than he would have ever dreamed because he could mentally dress her in each and every matching set with little to no problem at all.
In short--gallingly--his anger wasn’t the only thing swelling around here.
Furthermore, though he’d been watching closely he hadn’t seen a single person--aside from the coffee shop clerk she’d snapped at over the low foam on her latte--who wanted to do her any bodily injury. No suspicious-looking characters, no threat of any sort. And, though he could have misread the file, he didn’t think any of the others had noted anything odd either.
“Listen I know I’m the new guy here, but something about this doesn’t feel right. For someone who is supposedly in danger, she’s not the least bit worried and I haven’t detected even the slightest hint of a threat.”
“We didn’t either,” Flanagan admitted. “But the letters are real and her father is worried, so our
job is to do what we’re getting paid for. Protect her, of course, and find the source of risk.”
He knew that--and would follow orders--but it didn’t keep him from seriously wondering just what the hell was going on. Another thought struck. “Did you meet her father?”
“No, I didn’t. Payne pulled first duty with her and he’s the only one who’s met Mr. Stravos.”
Ranger Security reputation aside, he still thought that was strange.
“Any new developments in the case?” Jamie asked. “Has another letter arrived?”
“Not that I’m aware of. We’ve, er... We’ve been gone all day,” he admitted. “Pussy had to have her nails painted--
“P-pussy?” Flanagan chuckled. “Isn’t the dog named Trixie?”
“It’s not what I’m calling her,” Huck said grimly. “Then Sapphira had an appointment to get waxed and buffed and her nails done.” Clearly he’d gone into the wrong business--he needed to open a pet-friendly spa, one where the owners and animals could get their manicures and pedicures, hair and the like done at the same time. The idea made a grim chuckle rise up in his throat. He blew out a breath. “Then we had to drive all over town to find a particular shade of lip gloss to match the new nail color ‘because the shade at the spa was more peachy than pink’--“ Now there was a sentence he never thought he’d use, particularly in the security field. “--and now we’re here, where’s she tried on every freakin’ pair of panties in the store, with the exception of the control top garments.”
He glared down at the dog currently resting atop his foot. Meanwhile, he was dog-sitting. Again.
Jamie laughed once more, then apologized. “Sorry, man. We warned you.”
Yes, they did. Regardless, this was not at all what he’d envisioned when he’d signed on for the job. Naturally he hadn’t expected anything to be so thrilling as being a paratrooper--free-falling through the sky was a singularly unique sensation which he knew from personal experience had no rival, and God how he missed it--but he had expected to need adrenaline more than patience, at the very least.
“You’re not regretting you decision, are you?” Flanagan asked, showcasing a keen sense of insight.
When he’d rather not lie, Huck had learned to merely remain silent.
Flanagan let go an uneasy breath. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, in three years in business this is the first case we’ve had of this sort.”
“Hopefully it’ll be the last,” Huck told him, resisting the urge to rub his throbbing leg. At any rate, what did it matter? He couldn’t be a paratrooper anymore and this was the best gig in town. Even if it didn’t feel like it at the moment, Huck thought, staring morosely at the check-out counter where Sapphira had finally moved.
Promising to call with regular updates, he disconnected the call. He’d barely stowed it in the holder before it vibrated again. Huck checked the caller ID display and felt a smile tug the edge of his mouth. Mick.
“How’s it going, Falcon? You teaching those boys how to kick some security ass yet?”
Huck chuckled. “Hardly. I’m guarding a socialite and we’re presently in the panty store.”
Mick’s easy laugh came over the line. “She pretty?”
That would be the first thing his hell-raising love’em and leave’em friend would ask. “Did you hear me?” Huck asked, purposely ignoring the question. “I’m in a panty store.”
“Yeah, well, I’m getting ready to head out again.”
Huck’s senses went on point. “Where?”
“You know I can’t say. Just another miserable village in another war torn country.”
He detected an unusual undercurrent in his friend’s voice--reticence? Fear? “When will you be back?”
“End of the week, God willin’.”
“Be careful.”
Mick laughed. “When you’re as good as I am, you don’t have to be careful.”
Arrogant bastard, Huck thought, shaking his head. “You’re so full of shit.”
“And you’re in a panty store, guarding a pretty woman. Wanna trade?”
Huck’s gaze homed in on Sapphira. “I never said she was pretty.”
“I know. Sometimes it’s what goes unsaid that ends up being the most telling.”
“What? Have you been reading your fortune cookies again?”
“Asshole,” Mick shot back, laughing. He paused. “Have you heard anything from that PI you hired?”
Mick was the only person on the planet who knew why he’d buggered that training session, who knew that he’d decided he had to know who his father was. He swallowed. “He called this morning. He still doesn’t have anything yet, but he’s working on it. It’s tough going because it’s a small town and I don’t want my mother to know that I’m doing any snooping around.”
“I still think you need to just ask her.”
He knew what he thought and he disagreed. He just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was too afraid of hurting her. “You know I don’t want to do that.”
“If you want answers, you may end up not having a choice.”
Huck sighed. He’d just have to cross that bridge when he came to it. He told him as much. “Give me a call when you get back, will you?” It was the closest thing to a let-me-know-you’re-okay as he could get.
“Will do,” Mick told him, accepting the gesture for what it was. Huck disconnected, thankful that Mick had been a stubborn sonofabitch and hadn’t given up on him as a friend after the accident. He smiled. Oh, hell. Who was he kidding? When had he ever known Mick Chivers to give up on anything? Belatedly remembering his target, Huck’s gaze found Sapphira once more.
Is she pretty?
Though he’d ignored his friend’s question, the query came back to haunt him. In the traditional sense, no she wasn’t what one would call pretty. Her face was a little to round, her nose a little too pert. Her mouth, though, was possibly the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Extra full bottom lip, bowed upper, and wide enough to make him hard.
The overheard light gleamed over the caramel highlights in her pale brown hair and her tiny foot, clad in a shoe that would more than likely cover a food bill for the month for the average family of four, tapped in time with beat of the piped-in music. She wore a pair of red butt-hugging Capri pants that clung to her ripe rear end with just enough cling to be a degree shy of tight and a white scoop-necked t-shirt with lots of little sparkly doodads. She looked funky but chic and sexy as hell.
She turned then, and smiled at him--and just like that the breath that had been in his lungs silently evaporated, as though it had magically disappeared.
Oh, hell, Huck thought as his mouth parched and his heart- rate kicked up a notch. Another blast of heat landed in his loins and he resisted the urge to gnash his teeth and scream.
This was so not good.
On too many levels to count.
“I’m ready,” she said brightly, shoving her newest purchases at him as though he were her personal bag boy. It was like a welcome splash of cold water over his privates. Though it went against every bit of southern gentleman training he’d received from his mother and grandmother, Huck made himself stand still and not accept her load.
Seemingly stunned, she stared blankly at him. “Aren’t you going to carry these for me?”
“Did you buy them for me?”
She smirked. “I wasn’t aware that you were into that sort of thing.” Her gaze slid over him and she cocked her head in exaggerated bewilderment. “Just goes to show you can never tell.” She leaned forward conspiratorially. “Tell me, are you wearing a bra now?” she stage-whispered to everyone in a fifty feet radius, much to his immediate discomfort.
Lips pursed into a thin line, he grabbed her arm and propelled her out of the store. Trixie yelped into action. “You know damn well I don’t wear a bra.”
“How would I know that?” she asked, hurrying to keep up with him. “For all I know you’ve got a thong on, too.”
He felt his teeth alm
ost crack. “I can assure you that I don’t have on a thong.”
Eyes twinkling, he slid him a provokingly sly grin. “But you won’t assure me you’re not wearing a bra?”
“I’m not wearing a bra either,” he clarified through a tight smile. “And while were on the subject of what I’m not doing, maybe I should take this opportunity to clarify a few things for you.” He drew up short and whirled her around to face him, then glared down into her irritatingly sensual face. “I’m not going to dog-sit or tote your bags. I’m not going to fetch the sugar for your coffee or select the color of your nail polish.” He felt his expression blacken as another pain sliced through his leg. “And I’m not going to drive your car anymore. In fact, if I let you leave the house again--and at the moment that’s a pretty big if--we’re taking my car and you’re sitting in the--“
Huck paused as sudden inspiration, like a gilded gift from the heavens, descended up upon him. He felt a smile slide slowly, wonderingly, over his lips.
Alarm registered in those startling green eyes. “What do you mean if you let me leave the house?” she asked, growing pale.
“That’s exactly what I mean,” Huck told her, laughing softly, as the brilliance of the idea--the solution to his problem--unfurled in his furious mind. That was it. That was the key. Honestly, he didn’t know why Payne, Flanagan and McCann hadn’t thought of it.
His gaze slid to hers and caught. He’d put her in lockdown mode. Hadn’t he just thought she was safer at home than out in public? That her father’s compound was the best possible place for her to be? No more running around feeling foolish. No more beauty appointments and shopping.
Hell, it would probably be good for her. She could read a book or something, he thought uncharitably.
“You’d better get your errands done today, sweetheart, because your days of leading me around like a circus bear are over. Starting tonight, you’re going under house arrest.”
She gasped, then her eyes narrowed and the intelligence he’d glimpsed off and on all day suddenly flared in those green orbs. “The hell I am.”
The Loner: Men Out of Uniform Book 4 Page 5
