“Do you mind if I play?” she asked. “Will it bother you?”
“It won’t bother me,” he assured her in a polite tone that was meant to keep distance between them.
If he wanted distance, that was fine. She would just close him out.
Sitting down at the piano, she ran up and down a few scales. The instrument was perfectly tuned. In her mind, she shifted through all the pieces she’d learned to play over the years and settled on one of her mother’s favorites—“Moonlight Sonata.” She got lost in it, engrossed in it. She disappeared into the music, forgetting about Rafe and the hotel suite and Blake and his family’s turmoil.
When she was finished, she sat there with her eyes closed, feeling tears well in back of her eyelids, yet determined not to let them fall. She couldn’t get up from that bench. She couldn’t face the outside world again. She couldn’t face Rafe. So she began another arrangement, a classical piece that was haunting enough to chase any thoughts away.
When the music ended, Rafe asked, “What did that mean?” He sounded as if he really wanted to know.
Rising from the bench, she went to one of the windows and peered out onto the golf course. How honest should she be? Did it even matter? Really, her bodyguard was a stranger. She could say anything.
So she told him the truth. “It meant that sometimes I feel trapped.”
She felt trapped when she couldn’t walk the streets like a normal person. She felt trapped when someone wanted to get to know her because of what she did, not who she was. She felt trapped when she thought of Miko and how blind she’d been. She was twenty-eight and she’d acted like a nineteen-year-old. She longed to go back to Italy and walk in the olive grove, to sit on the villa’s patio and watch the sunset, to go to town to the trattoria and not be treated any differently from anyone else.
She was grateful, so very grateful for everything her parents had given her…for everything she had. But sometimes she was still so lonely deep down inside. Over the years, she’d found that loneliness diminished when she concentrated on someone else. Now wasn’t so different. If she concentrated on Rafe, she’d just be very careful not to let her attraction to him show.
Crossing to the sofa, she sat, leaving a bit of space between them. “Why did you go to work for the Secret Service?”
He pressed a button on the laptop keyboard and his screen went blank. Lowering the lid, he seemed to debate with himself for a few moments. Then he gave a shrug as if the decision to tell her would cause no harm. “My dad was a cop.”
“Where did you grow up?”
“Here in Dallas.”
“Did you want to become a cop?”
“I did until I was twelve. The president came to Dallas for a speaking engagement when he was trying to get reelected. My father was on the local detail. He also managed to get me a ticket to hear him speak. I did and although I didn’t understand the implications of most of it, I knew this was an important event and my father was part of it. That night we were watching it play on the local news and I grinned at him and said, ‘I was there.’”
He pointed to the men near the president and told me, “Those men have the most important job in the world.”
Gabby could imagine a twelve-year-old who idolized his father, taking his words to heart. She kept silent, waiting to see if Rafe would say more.
“Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always said a cop like my dad, or maybe a detective. But Dad’s voice constantly played in my mind. After my father died—he was killed in the line of duty—I was in college taking criminal justice courses. The day we buried him, I decided to make him proud and go for the most important job in the world.”
Gabby knew Secret Service agents filled more than one role. “How long did you protect the president?”
“For two years. Then I was transferred to a field office where I worked on access device fraud investigations.”
“Blake told me you took a bullet for a senator.”
Rafe corrected her. “Ex-senator. That was after I started up my own consulting firm.”
Rafe had turned toward her and she was angled toward him. They seemed to be closer than when she first sat down. She wanted to say something, but she didn’t want him to take it the wrong way.
Obviously as good at reading people as he was at protecting them, Rafe suggested, “Say what’s on your mind.”
“I don’t want you to take this the wrong way. I don’t want you to think I’m flirting.”
His voice was gruff as his gaze stayed on her face. “I shouldn’t have said what I did.”
Silence fell between them until she knew she had to break it. No matter what he thought, she had to tell him what she was thinking. “I admire men like you.”
“What kind of man am I?” he returned, his expression unreadable.
She didn’t hesitate to answer his question. “You’re a man who would die for what you believe in. I always wished I had that kind of courage.”
“You have to have courage to do what you do, mingling with strangers, walking down a runway, posing for a photograph and having everyone study you almost microscopically. And most of all, keeping your temper and not lashing out at reporters.”
“You’re being kind.” That was a quality she’d felt from Rafe almost from the beginning in spite of his stoicism.
He leaned closer. “Why do you believe what you do doesn’t count?”
She so wanted to lace her fingers in his short, thick hair. She wanted to ease the worry lines around his eyes. She wanted to touch him the way he’d touched her. “What I do is so superficial. Sometimes I wonder if there’s any meaning in it.”
“I heard you helped raise money for SIDS research.” His eyes were questioning as if he wondered why she’d chosen that cause.
“I did. I still do. My aunt—my mom’s sister—lost a child to SIDS.”
“I see. And you want to help.”
When she didn’t respond, he said her name softly. “Gabby. As impossible as it seems to me, maybe you don’t know your own worth.”
Maybe she didn’t. Maybe that’s why she’d let Miko trample her heart.
Rafe tipped her chin up and looked directly into her eyes. “You helped Libby Dalton today. That was very important.”
She heard respect in his voice and she couldn’t speak. All she could do was gaze into those brown eyes of his. All she could do was wish she and Rafe were even closer than they were.
As if Rafe knew exactly what she was thinking, his lips came closer to hers. Their breath mingled. Then his lips were on hers…warm…firm…moving…passionate. She knew neither of them was thinking. They were both just feeling. When he groaned, she knew he’d given in to the desire. She also knew the attraction she felt wasn’t one-sided. That realization made her feel happy, light, even joy filled.
His tongue edged along the seam of her lips. She didn’t hesitate to open to him, to fully experience his kiss that had seemed destined from the moment they’d met. As his tongue explored, she responded to the growing desire in her body. The word destined tumbled around in her head again. Hadn’t she felt destined when she and Miko had met? Hadn’t she felt destined when they’d flown to Monte Carlo, to the Swiss Alps? She’d been so wrong about him. Could she be just as wrong about Rafe?
She seemed to pull away the same moment he did. The fire in her body was still burning and she felt stunned by the emotions Rafe had incited in her.
He looked absolutely…stony. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
He moved away from her, far enough away she couldn’t have reached out if she’d wanted to.
“That was a mistake for countless reasons,” he added. “It won’t happen again. In fact, I should call Blake and ask if he can get someone else to guard you.”
“Is that what you want?” she asked, her voice shaky.
“This doesn’t have to do with what I want, Gabby. You have to feel safe.”
“I do feel safe,” she admitted.
Rafe looked torn…between right and wrong, between should and shouldn’t.
Knowing he was right, yet hurt because he’d been so blunt about it, Gabby stood. “I don’t want another bodyguard, Rafe. But if you don’t want to be here, then you should call Blake.”
She returned to the kitchen, her body still singing from his kiss, her heart confused because she was falling for Rafael Balthazar and didn’t know if she should be.
The doorbell to the suite chimed and Rafe went to answer it. Gabby had been holed up in the kitchen, working on her laptop. She hadn’t said a word to him since the kiss.
The kiss.
However, as he crossed to the door, she broke her silence and called in to him. “It’s my masseuse. Do you have to clear her?”
He called back. “Yes, I do.”
He suspected he’d see the roll of Gabby’s eyes, the little sigh that said it was all so unnecessary. Maybe most of it was, but there was always that one chance and that one time it wouldn’t be.
Apparently, the tension had gotten to Gabby and she saw the massage therapist as a way to relax. He knew exactly what would relax him.
He blew out a breath and studied Helena Bancroft’s ID.
Five minutes later, she was set up in Gabby’s bedroom, the massage table at the foot of the bed, Gabby waiting for him to leave the room.
“Enjoy yourself,” he said as he crossed to the door. “But don’t close the door. Leave it open a couple of inches. I’ll be standing right outside.”
“That’s not necessary,” Gabby protested. He could tell she was trying not to lose her temper.
“It is necessary. Think of me as a statue.”
She gave him a look that almost made him laugh. Almost. Then he stepped outside the door, leaving it open just a crack, and stood there like a sentinel.
Rafe had had practice standing still for hours, staring straight ahead, but watching everything around him. During these long stretches, he went over security patterns in his head, improved, hacker-proof systems, better ways to ensure McCord’s jewelry stores were impenetrable.
After an hour, he heard movement inside the room—a rustle and the zipper of a duffel bag. Helena exited the room.
She said, “I’ll leave the table for now. I can pick it up in the morning. Miss McCord is almost asleep and I hate to disturb her.”
“When Gabby’s finished with it, I’ll have it brought down to the spa.”
Helena nodded and then let herself out of the suite.
After Rafe checked that the door was secure, he peeked into Gabby’s room just to make sure she was all right. She lay on the table on her stomach, covered only by a large towel. He certainly wasn’t getting any closer.
Backing out of the room, he retreated to the sofa, switched on his laptop and intended to concentrate on work.
However, another half hour went by and he didn’t hear any noise from Gabby’s bedroom. Returning there, he found her sound asleep on the table, her head cocked on her arms in an odd position. He knew she was going to get a crick in her neck if she stayed that way.
What to do.
He never had to ask himself what to do. He always just knew. But Gabby McCord had seemed to change all his reference points.
Approaching the table slowly, he hoped she’d awaken on her own. She didn’t. Gingerly, he laid one hand on her shoulder, “Gabby, you need to move to the bed if you want a nap.”
Sleepily, she opened her eyes and saw him crouched down beside her. “Rafe, why are you here?”
Wasn’t that the sixty-million-dollar question?
“Your massage therapist finished a long time ago. I’m afraid you’re going to undo everything she helped you with if you stay in that position. Why don’t you move over to the bed?”
Her gaze shifted to that piece of furniture and came back to rest on him. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, holding the towel around her breasts.
He should leave now. He shouldn’t even try to have a conversation.
But the current between them was potent and seductive. She didn’t move an inch and neither did he. The more he thought about their kiss, the more he wanted another one.
Completely awake now, Gabby kept her eyes on his. “Do you really think that kiss was a mistake?”
He had two ways to go with his answer. One would be a lie. The other would be the truth.
For the first time in his life, he didn’t know which road to take.
Chapter Five
A breath away.
Rafe was only a breath away.
Gabby was fully awake now. She’d been half dozing. She gripped the towel in front of her, aware of cool air at her back. But she was even more aware of Rafe—the scent of his cologne, the beard shadow on his jaw and the hungry look in his eyes. She guessed he was weighing should and shouldn’t again.
So was she.
The desire in his eyes caused a pressing need in her body. She wanted his kiss and his touch. She wanted to be wanted and needed. She didn’t know Rafe well, but instinctively suspected that he wasn’t the type of man who kissed one woman one night and another the next.
As if his thoughts followed the same track, he shook his head slightly. “I’m not attracted to my clients. I don’t do this.”
She kept silent. Although she hungered for his kiss, she wouldn’t make the first move. Miko’s infidelity had filled her with self-doubt. She didn’t want to merely be desirable. She wanted a man to desire only her. And the real her, not the magazine-cover version.
Before Rafe had entered the room, she’d been so relaxed. Now her pulse was racing fast, so fast she opened her lips and took in a shallow breath.
“Gabby,” he said on the edge of a groan. Then he bent his head and kissed her again.
If Rafe’s first kiss had been stunning, this second one was awesome. His fingers delved into her hair as his lips moved over hers. There was nothing easy or coaxing about the kiss. It was all bold passion, a passion that she shared. She needed to touch him, too, and if she had to let go of her towel, so be it. She pulled his polo shirt from his khakis, and slipped her fingers underneath. Her palms met hot, taut skin.
When they did, he pushed past her lips and eagerly explored her with his tongue. She responded as if she’d never been kissed before. She responded from the fire he was fueling deep in the center of her being. From the moment they’d met, they’d seemed to be at odds. Yet underneath that pool of tension had been something much more potent…something that had led to this.
When he came up for air, he saw that she’d let go of her towel. He ran his hands over her shoulders down to her breasts. He cupped them and she gave a soft moan. As he teased his thumbs over her nipples, they became hard buds. She was so aroused and wasn’t sure how to express it. His hands moved lower and she reached for him, wanting to get closer.
“We can use the massage table or move to the bed. Unless you have another suggestion,” he added with a teasing smile.
Suddenly she went on alert. There was something in his voice—he thought she was experienced! He thought this was matter-of-fact for her. He thought she hopped from one bed to another without thinking twice.
What if she told him Miko had been her first? What if she told him she thought she and Rafe had more than a physical connection?
She grabbed for her towel, slung it around her and held it together at her breasts.
“Gabby?” He looked puzzled.
“Do you think I do this every time I have a massage? Do you think I do this for recreation?”
He cocked his head, measuring her questions. “Are you saying you don’t?”
“I think we both miscalculated.”
Stepping away from her, he agreed, “I guess I read the signals wrong.”
She couldn’t let him believe that. “You read the signals right, until I realized you believe I’m that woman on the magazine covers. More important, you believe the tabloids. I’m not that kind of woman.” Her voice wobbled over th
e last words and she knew she had to get him out of her room. “I need to be alone for a while. I have to make a few calls and then I have to go over my notes for tonight’s speech.”
He looked uncomfortable and pushed his hands into his pockets. “Do you want me to order room service?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat.”
“Not before a speaking engagement. I’ll get something afterward.”
He looked as if he wanted to change her mind, but instead he just gave a quick nod. “I’ll be in the living room if you need anything.”
As he left the room, she was determined she wouldn’t need anything—not from him.
Rafe felt like a jerk.
He knotted his tie that evening, picked up his suit jacket and slipped into it. Something had gone wrong in Gabby’s bedroom and he wasn’t sure what it was. It probably had to do with expectations. Gabby had expected one thing and he had expected another.
Just what had she expected?
The crucial question was what had he expected? Had his mind-set told him this was the same as going to a party and taking a date home for a one-night stand?
Maybe it had.
He knew now something didn’t jibe with Gabby. That little awkward episode in her bedroom had proven to him she wasn’t the jet-setting heartbreaker tabloids portrayed. There was something vulnerable about her. Had all the hoopla about her made him miss that?
He made sure his tie was straight, then went to her bedroom to find out if she was ready. He didn’t know how to breach the distance that had cropped up between them.
As if she heard him coming, she opened her door. Then he realized he was seeing another facet of Gabriella McCord.
She was dressed in a black suit with a simple gold necklace. Carrying a briefcase, she could have been any woman working in the financial district.
But she wasn’t any woman. And she wasn’t working in the financial district.
“Ready to go?” he asked in a brisk tone.
The Texas Bodyguard’s Proposal Page 6
