“The grapes are pretty cheap, too. And tasty.” She reached into her cart and fumbled with a bag. When she straightened, she had a grape resting in the palm of her hand. “Try one.”
“Ah, thanks.” He took the grape, feeling vaguely like Snow White when she’d taken the apple in a movie he’d watched with Allison.
The tiny woman leaned toward him. “You’re Mike Blackburne, right?” He must have looked confused because she laughed and placed her hand on his forearm. “I’m in a step aerobics class with your sister Grace. She told us all about you.” Her eyebrows arched.
He started backing up. “Ah, it was nice to meet you...”
“Belinda,” she said. “I was wondering if you might like to come over to dinner sometime.”
He looked at her left hand and saw a diamond band sparkling there. “I’m not sure your husband would be pleased.”
“Oh, he’s gone a lot.” Her smile broadened. “It could be our little secret.”
“I’m not very good at keeping secrets,” he said. “But thanks for asking.”
With that, he turned his cart down the main aisle. He wanted to leave the store, but he needed food and it was unlikely the woman was going to pursue him in this public store.
“I’m in the book. Phone me if you change your mind,” she called, then gave her last name.
He nodded and kept on going, slowing long enough to grab a bag of premade salad, and some broccoli. He cruised through the bakery department, searching for his favorite brand of bread. They must not make it in Texas, he decided after a few minutes of fruitless searching.
By the meat counter, two women shopping together tried to engage him in conversation, but he only smiled and kept on moving. He could feel a cold sweat breaking out on his back. It wasn’t caused by exertion, he was barely moving at a fast walk. So it was something else. If he was honest with himself, he would admit he didn’t like these people knowing who he was. It made him nervous.
He turned down the cereal aisle and picked out a box. At the far end were the paperback books and magazines. He paused there to find something to read. There was an entire section of the romance novels Cindy liked. He thought about picking one up for her, but didn’t know which she might already have read.
He liked watching her read. She got lost in the story. Often he’d come into the family room and found her sprawled out on the sofa, one foot dangling over the back of the couch. How many times had he wanted to go to her? He’d known her skin would be soft before he touched it. He’d known she would taste of heaven long before they kissed.
Maybe that’s what was bothering him. Usually, realities fell far short of the imaginings, but Cindy was even better than he’d hoped and he wasn’t sure why. Of course he’d thought of kissing her, but the real thing had been different. Maybe because in the past kissing had been something he did on the road to going to bed with a woman. With Cindy, he’d enjoyed the act of kissing simply for itself. The process—holding her, feeling her lean against him, tasting her—had been enough. Although he didn’t want to think about what could have happened if they’d been inside the house instead of standing in the middle of the street.
He picked up a book and flipped through it. But instead of words, he saw Cindy’s face as it had been in the glow of the streetlight. He saw her swollen mouth and the passion in her eyes. Just thinking about it turned him on. But he knew it wasn’t right. She was—
Another cart slammed into him. He looked up as a blond woman with an infant in the cart and a young girl trailing behind smiled at him.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.” She pointed at the book Mike was holding. “Does that look any good?”
“I don’t know.” He thrust the paperback at her, then grabbed his cart and hurried down the aisle. His injured leg screamed in protest, but he didn’t slow down until he was safely lost in the canned goods.
Once there, he paused to catch his breath. They knew him. He could read it in their faces. They talked about him and when they got home they would call their friends and mention running into him in the grocery store. He’d heard they were interested, and it scared the hell out of him. He would feel safer in a roomful of armed terrorists. At least there he would know the rules.
Moving cautiously, making eye contact with no one and walking as quickly as his injury would allow, he walked to the aisle with soda and grabbed two twelve-packs. Up ahead were chips. He started toward them when a cart turned in at the far end. That sixth sense that told him to duck in time to avoid gunfire screamed for him to turn. He turned. As he whipped around to the center aisle, his peripheral vision registered a familiar form. Beth. He groaned. That was all he needed.
He was standing by the frozen foods. Mike quickly scanned the contents of the freezer, opened one glass door and pulled out five of the same dinner. He couldn’t afford to be picky now. Before anyone else could speak to him, he made his way to the checkout counters.
Once there, he was trapped behind a prim woman who seemed to know everything about his wounds. For a moment, he was afraid she was going to ask to see the scar. Finally she left, helped to her car by an elderly box boy who was nearly twice her age and half her size.
Mike breathed a sigh of relief.
“How’s it going?” the checker asked as she unhooked the front of his cart and started scanning groceries.
“You don’t want to know,” Mike said. He reached in his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.
“I haven’t seen you in here before.”
“I’m just visiting.” He was mesmerized by how quickly she pulled his food across the small glass sensor. It beeped with the regularity of a pager going off.
“You’re Mike Blackburne, right?”
His head snapped up and his attention narrowed. The woman was in her late twenties, with curly brown hair and blue eyes. “How did you know?”
She smiled. “Grace shops here all the time. We talk. She showed me your picture. If I’d known bodyguards were so handsome, I would have tried harder to get into trouble.”
He swallowed. “It’s not as romantic as it sounds.”
“I don’t know. It sounds pretty romantic to me.” She glanced over her shoulder at the big wall clock above the produce section. “I get off work at three. Would you like to go for a cup of coffee?”
He fought the urge to whimper. “Thanks, but I’ve already got plans.”
She took his money. “Too bad.” After making change, she handed it to him. “I’m here Monday through Friday. Come by if you change your mind.”
“I will. Thanks.” He grabbed the two bags of groceries. Before he got outside, he was stopped twice more. The first time, a soft-spoken woman asked him if he would be willing to come to the Christian Women’s luncheon to discuss security. He gave her Grace’s phone number. The second woman didn’t say much. She just looked at him as if he were a side of beef and she’d been starving for weeks. He literally jogged into the parking lot.
His leg was throbbing, he was dripping sweat and he hadn’t even been to the gym yet. What the hell was going on here?
All he wanted was to escape. He reached into his shorts pocket and grabbed the keys. Then he scanned the row where he’d left Grace’s white Ford Explorer.
“Dammit.”
There were five white Ford Explorers sitting next to each other. They were identical. He hadn’t thought to memorize Grace’s license-plate number. Muttering under his breath, he hit the disarm button on the car alarm and walked past each one. The third vehicle beeped and snapped open the locks. He pulled open the door, shoved the groceries onto the front seat and scrambled up beside them. Barely stopping long enough to fasten his seat belt, he put the car in reverse and backed out of his space.
Once on the main road, he clung to the steering wheel as if it were a life belt and he were adrift at sea. He drove automatically until he reached his sister’s subdivision. He pulled into her driveway and jumped out of the car. Without kno
wing what else to do, he crossed the lawn and went around to the back of Cindy’s house. Her blue minivan was parked in front of the garage. He pounded on the back door.
When she pulled it open, she stared up at him. “Mike, what’s wrong? You look awful.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “They’re coming,” he said. “You’ve got to hide me.”
* * *
For a moment, Cindy thought Mike had slipped into some delusional state. “Who’s coming?”
He shook his head as if to clear it. A single lock of hair fell onto his forehead. “I went to the grocery store. They were everywhere. They kept talking to me and offering to squeeze my melons.” He shuddered.
“Who?”
His dark eyes met hers. “Women.”
She knew exactly what had happened. It wasn’t hard to imagine, especially in a small community like this. Cindy took his hand and drew him into the house. “You’re safe now. They won’t hurt you here.”
His breathing slowed to normal. He glanced down at her and frowned. “You’re laughing at me.”
She tried to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up, but she could feel herself starting to smile. “Maybe just a little. You were at the market, Mike. You make it sound like you just battled the thundering hordes.”
“Yeah, well, you weren’t there. They kept bumping into me with their carts. I don’t understand how these women manage to drive around without getting into accidents, yet at the grocery store, they can’t go two feet without bumping into something.”
“Have you ever thought they were doing it on purpose?”
“Oh, God.” He dropped his chin to his chest.
“Did you come right over when you got home?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“I was just wondering if you’d bothered to put your groceries away.”
He swore. She giggled.
“You could try and be a little more sympathetic,” he called over his shoulder as he marched out of her house.
Closing the door behind her, she followed him outside. “I think you’re overreacting.”
“So I shouldn’t run in the opposite direction when I see Beth?” he asked as he fumbled with the passenger door. It was locked.
Before he ripped it off at the hinges, she plucked the keys dangling from his back pocket and hit the disarm button. Instantly all the doors unlocked. Mike jerked open the door and grabbed the two bags. She took one from him and started for Grace’s back door.
“Running from Beth isn’t necessary,” she said as she set the bag on the counter and began to unpack the groceries. “I’ve told you. She talks a good game, but the truth is, she loves Darren. If she actually saw you naked, she would probably die from embarrassment.”
“Let’s not test your theory.”
She pulled out a frozen dinner. The next one was the same. And the next. When she’d stacked all five together and placed them in the freezer, she glanced at him. “You really like Salisbury steak, don’t you?”
He was shoving a bag of salad in the empty produce bin. He straightened and shrugged. “It seemed like a wise idea to get out of there as quickly as possible.”
Sunlight streamed through the kitchen windows. Grace’s house had a different floor plan from her own. This kitchen was long, with darker hardwood floors and brick accents. Mike leaned against the counter as if the morning’s activities had worn him out.
His brown hair had grown out of its military cut. It was almost to his ears. He was still tanned and lean, his red T-shirt emphasizing the width of his shoulders and the muscles in his back. His shorts barely covered the bandage on his leg. He was tall, handsome and single.
“Like catnip to a cat,” she said softly.
“What?”
“That’s the problem. Look at where we are,” she told him. “Nothing exciting ever happens here. Our business is families and raising children. We don’t deal in international espionage.”
He folded his arms over his chest. “How do you stand it?”
“How do you stand the city?” She emptied the second bag. After rinsing the fruit, she pulled a glass bowl out of Grace’s cupboard and put the nectarines in it. Then she set the bowl in the refrigerator.
“The city is great,” he said. “You can get anything, anytime you want. Movies, restaurants. Something is always happening. Not like here.”
“I don’t want anything to happen. Did you eat lunch?”
He shook his head.
“Come on. I’ll make you a sandwich.”
“Cindy, I moved out of your place this morning so I wouldn’t be a bother.”
“It’s no trouble. I wasn’t expecting you to leave so quickly. I’ve got plenty of food.” She smiled. “You’ve had a harrowing experience. I don’t think you should be alone just yet.”
“Go ahead and mock me while I’m in a weakened condition.” He followed her back to her house.
When he was settled at the table, she pulled deli meat out of the refrigerator, then grabbed some bread. He didn’t have to know, but she was grateful for the company. In the last couple of weeks, she’d gotten used to having him around. Today, with him gone and the kids off playing with friends, the house had been too quiet.
“You never answered my question,” he said. “Why do you stay here?”
“Because this is what I’ve always wanted.”
“Roots?”
“Exactly. I like that it’s boring. If I had my way, the rest of my life would be just as dull. You know, the Chinese have a saying—`May you live an interesting life.’ Or is it live in interesting times? Either way, you get the point. I like the sameness, the traditions. My idea of happiness is serving exactly the same thing every year at Christmas. I like teaching the same curriculum each year at school. The kids are different and they learn at different rates. That’s the challenge. But the rhythm is the same.”
“Doesn’t sound very exciting.”
“I’ve had enough excitement to last me a lifetime. I grew up moving every year or two. I never made many friends. By the time I finally got in with some kids, it was time to move on.” She remembered those times clearly. What she recalled most was always being lonely. “I never want my children to have to think about not fitting in. I want them to belong.”
“I find it hard to believe you didn’t always fit in.”
“Why? You don’t.”
“How did you know that?”
His expression of surprise made her laugh out loud. “Mike, it’s so obvious. You’ve never fit in. Look at how you’re reacting to the suburbs, and this is about the most normal, most boring place in the world. You live on the fringes. Belonging gets in the way of what you do. Face it, a man comfortable with the rhythm of life doesn’t choose to be a bodyguard.”
She spread mustard on the bread, then folded several thin slices of roast beef. By now, she knew how he liked his sandwiches. She added extra lettuce without asking, and skipped the tomato.
“To answer the question you’re thinking,” she said as she set the plate in front of him, “the reason I know so much about you is that you’re a lot like my dad. He didn’t want to settle down, either. The only difference is that you’re smart enough to do it on your own. He got married and dragged us along with him until we got to be too much of a burden. He loved the military and so did you.”
He took a bite of sandwich and chewed slowly. She grabbed two sodas and set one in front of him. After taking the seat across from his, she popped her can and took a swallow.
“The Marine Corps was the first place I fit in,” he said. “Sounds pretty sad, huh?”
“It makes perfect sense.” Grace had told her a little about his childhood. By the time her friend had been born, Mike was nearly ten. He was always on the outside looking in, although he’d really cared about his baby half sister.
“I worked with the Military Police for a while, and I found out I was good at taking care of people. From there, I went to work for the Secret Service before going
out on my own.”
“Do you ever think about doing anything else?”
He glanced down at his leg. “It’s been on my mind. I’m nearly forty. Everything’s starting to go. The reflexes, timing.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re so old. That’s why all those women are chasing you.”
He didn’t smile. “It’s a game for the young, Cindy. There aren’t a lot of old bodyguards.”
“But you love the danger too much to give it up.”
“Maybe.” He stared over her left shoulder, but she knew he was seeing something other than the kitchen. “I spent my teenage years in trouble with the law. Now this is all I know. But taking a bullet has a way of making a man reevaluate what he wants to do with his life.”
“I can’t see you sitting behind a desk.”
He grinned. “Me, neither.”
She wondered what kind of man voluntarily faced death every day, then decided she didn’t want to know. There was no point in getting emotionally involved. When he was healed, Mike would be moving on. She might see him from time to time when he came to visit Grace, if he ever did, but they could never have a relationship. If she forgot that, she was going to get hurt.
“I bet you did very well on jungle patrol,” she said.
“Not bad.”
She leaned forward. “Surviving in the jungle is a matter of blending in with the cover and adapting, right?”
“So?”
“I think that’s your problem. You need to think of the suburbs as a different kind of jungle. You haven’t been blending in and adapting. You need to get familiar with the territory and act like the natives. You need a cover.”
He grinned. Her heart flopped over a couple of times in her chest. She ignored the sensation, along with the tingling that started in her toes and worked its way up. It was just a chill from the air conditioner or a rare summer malady she’d picked up somewhere. It wasn’t Mike. She refused to be attracted to him. Okay, she wasn’t going to lie to herself. She refused to be more attracted to him. It was bad enough that she couldn’t stop thinking about their kiss. It haunted her and made her hunger for his touch.
She’d hoped it was just a general sort of awakening, a sign that she was finally ready to start dating. But her fantasies were specifically about Mike. Whenever she tried to picture herself in the arms of another man, the fantasy disappeared. Life was not fair.
The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones Page 10
