The Texas Bodyguard’s Proposal

by Karen Rose Smith

  She turned off the inner voice. At least in a few weeks she might find a house. She was determined to buy one in Tuscany near her parents’ villa. Just a small cottage, maybe a little bungalow, just so she could feel normal.

  Once Gabby had climbed into the car and fastened her seat belt, Rafe took off. He quickly drove away from the hotel, filed onto the interstate and headed toward Libby Dalton’s day camp. He kept glancing in the rearview mirror. He changed lanes again, zipped around two cars and changed lanes once more.

  Satisfied, he seemed to relax just a little. “I don’t see anyone following us and my instincts aren’t clicking in.”

  She loosened her scarf and let it fall to her shoulders. Removing her sunglasses, she turned to him. “You rely on them?”

  He cut her a sideways glance then focused on the traffic in front of them. “Don’t you?” he asked, not exactly answering her question.

  “Sometimes my instincts are dulled by the crowds around me and the noise, even by my own expectations.”

  “How do you stand it?”

  She laughed. “It’s the way I earn my living. This is growing into something much bigger than I ever imagined. All I ever wanted to be was as fashion perfect as my mother and someday be on a magazine cover.”

  “What cover haven’t you been on?”

  She stopped to think about it. “I’ve never been in or on National Geographic,” she joked.

  “Rolling Stone, TV Guide, women’s magazines on the newsstand. You’ve hit them all.”

  “I’ve had a lot of years to hit them. I’ve been doing this since I was seventeen.”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-eight. How about you?”

  “Thirty-seven.”

  Thirty-seven. Certainly he’d known love. Certainly he’d had serious relationships, hadn’t he? She couldn’t ask. She really couldn’t. She didn’t know him well enough yet.

  Yet? She shouldn’t want to get to know him. They were from two different worlds. And speaking of…

  “I thought Blake told me your home base was New York.”

  “I have family in Dallas. That’s why I keep a car here.”

  “How much family?” It wouldn’t hurt just to ask a few questions. Maybe they’d get along better.

  “My mom and a sister.”

  “Are you going to spend time with them while you’re here?”

  “If I get the chance.”

  She knew what that meant. It all depended on her schedule and whatever else she required of him.

  The navigational system in his car gave out a series of directions. Their conversation stopped and Gabby took the opportunity to study him more carefully. Unfortunately, she liked what she saw. Not just on the outside. A picture of the inside man was forming. Yes, he annoyed her, but she was beginning to like the way he acted and what he did and what he said.

  “Looking for something?” he asked, catching her studying him.

  “You’re supposed to have your eyes on the road.”

  “My sixth sense is working. I trust it even more than I trust the other five.”

  She kept quiet. She wasn’t going to tell him why she was watching him. She wasn’t going to tell him that she found him an enigma, different from most men in a lot of ways. He wasn’t trying to charm her or flatter her. Actually, the opposite. She caught herself trying to earn his respect and that was odd. She usually just tried to be herself.

  “Tell me about your mom and dad,” he suggested.

  She didn’t know if he was asking because the silence between them bothered him or because he really wanted to know. “You know who my dad is. He oversees all of the Italian stores.”

  “Besides being a well-known actress, I heard your mother was descended from royalty. Is that true?”

  “Somewhere, way back,” Gabby said dismissively.

  “I also heard she’s still in the top twenty of the most-photographed women in Europe.”

  Gabby didn’t know what to say to that. Her mother had stopped making films a few years ago.

  “I can’t believe I made a comment you don’t have an instant comeback for.” His voice held a tinge of amusement.

  “Are you trying to dissect me?”

  “No, just trying to figure out what makes you tick. That helps in the protection profession. I can learn to predict what you might say or do, then I know how to cover you.”

  Cover her.

  All of a sudden she had the image of the two of them in bed, his body covering hers. What was wrong with her?

  To sidetrack her thoughts, she responded to his comment. “My mother’s involved in a lot of charity work and she travels with my dad whenever she can. They’re still very much in love.”

  “How long have they been married?”

  “They’ll be married twenty-nine years this winter.”

  “Love stories that last are hard to find these days.”

  “I know. My dad was thirty and my mom was twenty when they met. They fell in love instantly. He was already the manager of the Rome store.”

  “Did he have to fight for your mom’s hand?”

  “Do you mean, did her parents approve? Dad managed stores and came from a good family, although they were newly rich.”

  Rafe laughed. “There’s a difference?”

  “You’ve protected billionaires. You know there is. There’s a snobbery among rich folk sometimes. But my mom’s parents—they just wanted a good man for her to love.”

  “You have a tiny touch of an Italian accent. Was it spoken in your house when you grew up?”

  She didn’t want to get into growing up. Not because there was anything to hide, but because she always felt guilty about how lonely she’d been even though she’d had advantages that other children didn’t have. Her nanny had spoken Italian. Her parents spoke both languages.

  “My mom and dad usually spoke English.” That was all she was going to say on the subject.

  The voice on the navigational system told them what exit to take. They did and five minutes later, they were driving down the road to the camp.

  Automatically, Gabby took a mirror from her purse, checked her makeup and ran her hands through her hair, fluffing it to counteract any damage the scarf had done. When she was finished, she found Rafe watching her.

  “You look…fine.” He finished as if he’d been about to say something else and substituted that word.

  “I have to look more than fine. I want to wow Libby Dalton’s friends.”

  “You will. I’m just worried someone will get on the phone and call the press before we can make an exit. So let’s try to do this in the shortest amount of time possible.”

  “I understand, Rafe, really I do, but I came here to help Libby and that’s what I intend to do.” Then she picked up her clutch bag and opened the car door.

  Moments later Rafe stood outside a rustic-style cabin. He let Gabby precede him inside. As she slipped by, her hair brushed his jaw. He didn’t breathe so he wouldn’t inhale the scent. He’d had enough of that in the car. Enough of that and her. What was this chemistry? With Connie, sex had been easy and enjoyable and tender. This heat he felt when Gabriella McCord was anywhere near him frustrated him and taught him about the control he didn’t have.

  Gabby turned to look at him. He saw the heat he felt come alive in her eyes. But then she broke eye contact and headed for the woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt seated at a desk.

  “Mrs. McLaren?” Gabby inquired.

  Rafe had found out that Sandra McLaren was the one in charge.

  The gray-haired woman glanced at Gabby and did a double take. Her mouth dropped open and her glasses practically fell from her nose. She pushed them back up and jumped to her feet. “You’re Gabriella McCord! It can’t be you. Is it you?”

  Gabby smiled kindly, “Yes, it is,” and extended her hand. Sandra McLaren shook it. “I’m here to see one of your campers—Libby Dalton. Would that be all right? I can’t stay very long.”

 
“You want to see Libby? Sure.” Mrs. McLaren glanced at her watch. “This is her age group’s arts and crafts hour. They’ll be under the trees at the tables in the picnic area. Come on, I’ll show you where. You’re sure you want to see Libby?”

  Mrs. McLaren glanced at Rafe.

  “I’m sure. This is Mr. Balthazar. He’s here to make certain I’m safe. We didn’t want the press to get wind of my visit. That’s why I didn’t call ahead.”

  “I understand completely.”

  They followed Mrs. McLaren out of the cabin down the footpath that led between other cabins similar to the first. It took them past a much larger facility. “That’s the dining hall,” Mrs. McLaren pointed out.

  Rafe glimpsed a pool on the other side of the dining hall and guessed that’s where the campers spent their afternoons. He was amazed at how easily Gabby chatted with the counselor about the facilities and the campers, the scholarships for students who couldn’t afford to attend yet had no one at home in the summer to watch them. The counselor explained the seven-, eight-and nine-year-olds were at the playground while the ten-, eleven-and twelve-year-olds completed craft projects. They weren’t far from the tree line when they heard children’s voices.

  After they entered the tree-shaded picnic area, Mrs. McLaren pointed to the second table on their right. She gestured to Libby who was studiously using a paintbrush on a ceramic figurine. The kids were engrossed in their work and didn’t pay any attention to Gabby until she stopped beside Libby’s bench.

  “Libby Dalton?”

  The eleven-year-old, tall and coltish, with brown eyes and medium-brown hair, wore a T-shirt, cutoff jeans and sneakers like most of the other kids.

  When Libby saw Gabby, her mouth widened in surprise, her eyes grew big and then a grin spread across her face. “Miss McCord! You got my letter.”

  At the sound of Gabby’s name, everyone took notice. The group of four at her table started coming forward to see if it was really her.

  Gabby put her hand on Libby’s shoulder. “I certainly did get your letter and I was going to write a reply, but I thought it was better if I visited you in person.”

  “I can’t believe you’re here!” Libby said in awe.

  As the kids came closer, Rafe stood by Gabby’s side and watched them carefully.

  Gabby bent close to Libby so only the eleven-year-old could hear. “Your letter said you were considering a nose job. You look perfect the way you are. You’ll grow into your own beauty, so wait and see what happens.”

  “But my nose is so long and straight,” Libby whispered back.

  “I think as you grow, your face will fill out more and your nose may not seem so long. Really, Libby, it’s so much more important that you like who you are and become comfortable with who you are. Then you can be confident.”

  Now her voice wasn’t confidential and was for everyone to hear. “I made a call to the owner of Jeans & More. You and a friend can set up an appointment with Mrs. Valaquez.” Gabby gave Libby a business card with the name written on it. “She’s the manager of the store and she’ll help you select a fall wardrobe for school, absolutely free. How does that sound?”

  Rafe watched the almost-teenager as she tried to find words but couldn’t. Her eyes were tearing and she threw her arms around Gabby. “Thank you! Thank you so much. You don’t know what this means.”

  Gabby didn’t hesitate to hug her back. “Oh, I think I do.”

  Rafe studied Gabby as she stood there hugging the eleven-year-old, her beautiful hair blowing in the wind. Her sandals were covered with dirt from the path, but she didn’t seem to mind. Was all of this a show for her own benefit? Did she plan a press release that she’d befriended an eleven-year-old? She seemed genuine, she really did. But this Gabby didn’t seem to jibe with the Gabriella McCord pictured in the tabloids…the Gabriella McCord rumored to be having an affair with a Greek tycoon…the Gabriella McCord who jet-setted to a different location every week, leaving broken hearts in her wake.

  While she couldn’t break his—the death of his wife along with his child had done that—he would not start something with her that would ruin his career.

  When Libby stepped away from Gabby, she asked, “Can I show you what I’m doing?”

  He leaned close to Gabby. “We should go.”

  “A few minutes more,” she said. “This is important.”

  He checked his watch. They were nearing twenty minutes since they’d arrived. He knew too well what could happen in the next five. In fact, he’d seen one of the boys taking a picture of Gabby with his cell phone. She might get press coverage if she wanted it or not, if he called or sent the picture to someone.

  But Gabby had already seated herself next to Libby and was examining the horse figurine.

  “I want one someday,” Libby confided, “but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to afford a horse. Daddy says they cost lots of money.”

  “If you can’t buy one, you could take care of one,” Gabby assured her. “But don’t you ever let go of your dream of owning one. If you want it bad enough, you can make it happen.”

  “Are you doing what you always dreamed you’d be doing? You’re so famous. Everybody knows who you are. Isn’t that wonderful?”

  “Sometimes it is. Sometimes it isn’t. I guess I’m doing what I always dreamed of, but I have other dreams, too.”

  Another girl about Libby’s age poked her head between Gabby and Libby. “Does she really know you?”

  Gabby was about to turn to answer when another group of kids approached Gabby from the other side of the table. They all held out scraps of paper. “Can you give us your autograph?”

  Rafe said warningly, “Gabby…”

  “Three more minutes,” she pleaded.

  Those beautiful eyes. They could make a man believe in almost anything.

  “If I say no?”

  “I’ll stay anyway,” she returned with one of those glowing smiles that he shouldn’t let disarm him.

  He shrugged. “I think you want the press to catch you here.”

  Since he couldn’t keep the note of accusation from his voice, she glanced back at him, eyebrows raised. “Think what you want.” Then she took a pen from her purse and signed about twenty slips of paper.

  After saying goodbye to everyone and giving Libby another hug, telling her to send pictures of herself in her new clothes, Gabby nodded to Rafe. “I’m ready.”

  He took her by her arm and hurried her down the path. When they’d almost reached the dining hall, he hooked his fingers around her elbow and ordered, “This way.”

  “But your car—”

  Then she heard the sound of voices, too, and realized he was leading her to an escape route.

  He grabbed Gabby’s hand and ran. To his surprise, she kept up with him. They cut through cabins and came out at the parking lot where a news van was parked. He didn’t have to tell her to hurry. They scrambled into his car, he fired up the engine and they left, a cloud of dust settling over the gravel behind them.

  Rafe glanced into the rearview mirror before he veered onto the interstate. “You were lucky,” he muttered.

  “And you were helpful. You’ve got good hearing. You heard them before I did.”

  He scowled as he peered into the rearview mirror again. “You’re not taking this seriously.”

  “Rafe, sometimes I have to take a few chances or I’d have to stay locked up in a hotel room all the time. That’s not living.”

  All the way back to the hotel, he thought about what she’d said. He’d been born to be cautious and ever since Connie had been gunned down by a drive-by shooter, he was even more so. Maybe that’s why his clients hired him. They knew he’d be cautious even if they weren’t.

  Still, he wondered if all that caution had kept him from living a full life.

  Rafe took a circuitous route back to the hotel. Gabby looked lost in thought and he didn’t interrupt her musings. They were better off if they didn’t talk. He didn’t need to lear
n any more about her. She didn’t need to learn any more about him. He was her bodyguard. She was his client.

  He kept telling himself that as they parked at the rear of the hotel, as he snuck her in the back entrance, as they made their way up to her suite. Her suite. Did he wish he had one to take her to?

  He made enough money, but his needs were simple. What would she think of his apartment in New York that was more of a landing field than a home?

  Once inside the suite, Gabby went to her bedroom. Rafe checked the hotel phone for messages. One was from Penny McCord. Another was from a publication who wanted an interview with Gabby. A third was from her mother. The voice was as sweet as Gabby’s with a heavier accent.

  He’d never meant to be Gabriella McCord’s secretary. He should have let her retrieve her own messages, but he had to screen her calls. He took the message sheets with him to her room. After he rapped, he walked in, all three messages still on his mind. But her mother’s most of all.

  “We can’t wait until you come home. Your dad and I both miss you. You should see what we did to the stables. We think you’ll like it. Call me back when you have some time. Ciao, bambina.”

  Rafe heard Gabby’s gasp before it registered. Then he realized she’d unbuttoned her blouse. Her bra was a lacy white concoction that fired up all his fantasies.

  The truth was, he didn’t know what to say so he tried to keep it light and said the first thing that came into his head. “You’re wearing more now than you were in that tabloid photo.”

  Gabby’s complexion went white. She looked as if she wanted to disappear into the floor.

  He was instantly sorry he’d teased her. Apparently her skin wasn’t as thick as he’d imagined.

  Stepping close to her, he kept his eyes on hers, rather than on the creamy skin showing above her bra. “What was the real story behind that photo?” he asked.