by Jami Alden
“Is she your only sister?”
“Nope.”
Nothing. No further elaboration.
Was this really the same guy she’d met in Maui? Whereas there he’d been quiet but charismatic, now he seemed determined to come off as an unfriendly, emotionless shell.
She had a sudden, vivid flashback to him sitting across from her in that bar. His easy smile, the way he’d looked at her like everything she said was fascinating. Sure, he was kind of quiet, but at least he’d been engaged in the conversation.
And later…things he’d whispered to her in the dark, praising the smoothness of her skin, the way she tasted, the way it felt to be buried deep inside her. He’d had no trouble carrying the conversation then.
She’d shared the most sexually intense experience of her life with him. Could he really be so indifferent?
Before she could dwell too much on that, Gabe parked the car and they made their way to where the demo area was set up. While Reggie got wired for her microphone and checked that all the ingredients for the recipes were there, Gabe circled the seating area looking big, tough, and very out of place.
His military background was evident even in civilian clothing, in the way he held himself with an air of quiet authority, as though he’d be more at home in a green T-shirt and fatigues. Still, his powerful frame was perfectly offset by the tailored business clothes, even if he did look in danger of popping a seam if he flexed too hard.
Tyler showed up to make sure Reggie’s books were prominently displayed and ready to purchase before she started the demo. Natalie arrived shortly thereafter and insisted on adding another layer of blusher and gloss.
“It’s not like I’m on camera,” Reggie protested.
“You don’t want to look washed out, do you?” Natalie stood back to admire her handiwork. “Not bad. Good choice on the pants. They make you look thinner.”
Reggie had chosen her chocolate brown, boot-cut slacks primarily for comfort, but she took Natalie’s backhanded compliment in stride.
Tyler reappeared, apparently satisfied that no one would miss the opportunity to buy Reggie’s book. “Is Gabe here?” he asked, looking around.
Reggie fussed with her ingredients, arranging the bowls of precut vegetables and spices in order of use. “Mr. Personality? He’s over there.” Reggie pointed with her chin across the room where he stood, arms folded across his chest, legs slightly spread in a power stance. His eyes constantly tracked her and the people around her. Irritated as she was by her irrational ongoing attraction to him, she had to admit she got a nice feeling of security knowing that he’d never let her out of his sight.
She managed to ignore Gabe as she got into her groove. As she showed the crowd of nearly two hundred how to make chicken vegetable curry, Thai basil salad, and coconut sorbet sundaes, she couldn’t have been happier. This was what she loved, performing for a crowd, imparting her love of food to them, seeing them smile and hearing their sounds of pleasure as they sampled the food. The hour flew by as she told stories and answered questions from the audience.
She was struck, as she was so often these days, at how lucky she was to have found success doing something she truly loved.
She caught a glimpse of Gabe out of the corner of her eye. Now if only her personal life could be so fulfilling.
Gabe stood behind Reggie, not so close as to be intrusive, but close enough so he could get a good look at everyone who approached. So far he hadn’t seen anyone who would fit the profile of a stalker. However, he’d learned as a member of the U.S. Army’s elite Delta Force not to put too much stock in appearances. That innocent-looking granny walking through the marketplace could easily be concealing a bomb underneath her berka.
Nevertheless, the crowd here tonight was hardly a suspicious-looking group—about ninety percent women, ranging in age from early twenties to early seventies, and only a few men. But most of the men appeared to have been dragged along by their wives, and all of them were milling off to the side. Fortunately, the event organizers had been kind enough to provide complimentary wine and cheese so the guys had something to do.
Gabe relaxed by degrees as Reggie signed the last book. He tried not to stare at her, but failed miserably. He never should have taken this job. As soon as he’d recognized her sexy smile and big brown eyes, he should have referred her to another security specialist in one breath and asked her out to dinner in the next.
And then what? With the sad state of his bank account, he’d be able to take her to Taco Bell.
Suck it up, Bankovic. Most times life doesn’t go the way you want. Instead of mooning over her and whining over what he couldn’t have, he should be grateful she hired him, happy he was able to cover his bills and help Marjorie out with her rent for another month.
But this was a bad situation. Reggie fucked with his equilibrium, no doubt about it. It took extreme effort on his part to keep his emotions from boiling over on a daily basis, and every second with Reggie threatened his hard-won control.
She captivated him. It sounded completely hokey and ridiculous in his own head, but there was no other word for it. Watching her on the set the other day and watching her tonight, smiling and laughing, it was easy to see that she was delighted with what she was doing. And he wasn’t the only one, the rest of the crowd smiled along with her.
That, combined with the intensely erotic dreams he’d suffered through for the past four nights, made Reggie Caldwell a very dangerous woman indeed.
So caught up in remembering the hot, sweet feel of Reggie writhing under him in that bed in Hawaii, Gabe didn’t notice Tyler standing beside him until the other man spoke. “She’s really good, isn’t she?”
Gabe prayed that his face showed none of his lustful yearning as he glanced at the other man, then back at Reggie, who was talking to a woman in her twenties as though they were old friends.
“Fans absolutely love her, men and women, which is unusual for a woman as attractive as Reggie.”
Gabe turned back to Tyler, confused. “What do you mean?”
Tyler shrugged. “Who understands why it happens, but as a rule, women viewers don’t like the thin, attractive female hosts. It’s like they’re resentful, or don’t believe they eat their own food.”
“That’s why it’s good she’s a little big,” Natalie said. “She looks like she probably eats enough.”
Gabe glared down at Natalie. Before he could stop himself, he said, “Reggie’s not big. She has an awesome body.”
Natalie’s eyebrows shot up, and her eyes got a speculative look. “So you’ve been studying it?”
Heat flooded Gabe’s face and he was grateful for his olive complexion. “I haven’t been studying—”
Natalie interrupted, “Oh, that’s right. You have, shall we say, intimate knowledge of Reggie’s body.”
“What do you mean by that?” Tyler’s indignant interruption was all that saved Natalie from being strangled.
“Didn’t Reggie tell you?” Natalie blinked up at Tyler innocently, but her mouth held a sarcastic twist. “She and Gabe met when she went to Hawaii…” She let her voice trail off suggestively.
Tyler’s Ken-doll face was a grim mask as he stared at Gabe with angry blue eyes. “You and Reggie were involved?”
Before Gabe could answer, Natalie laid a hand on Tyler’s arm in mock sympathy. “Poor Tyler. You’ve been trying for so long to get into Reggie’s pants—”
“I have not—”
“It’s okay to admit you’re jealous,” Natalie taunted.
Gabe struggled to keep his professional objectivity as he took another look at Tyler, doing his utmost to suppress a sudden upswell of territorial impulses. He’d taken his cue from Reggie and Natalie, and even his own instincts didn’t lead him to believe that Tyler was responsible for the harassment. But maybe the culprit had been right here close by all along.
“Jesus Christ, Natalie,” Tyler said, obviously struggling to keep his tone low. “Yes, I’ll admit I find y
our sister attractive, but rather than risk our professional relationship, I decided not to pursue it. Thank you for embarrassing us all.” He offered a sheepish smile. “Besides, Reggie wasn’t interested or I might have been more inclined to do something about it.”
Gabe studied Tyler’s body language for several moments. Though slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable, Tyler didn’t appear to be hiding anything. Tyler might have harbored an attraction to Reggie, but Gabe’s gut said Tyler wasn’t his guy. But he would keep an eye on him just in case.
Stiffening under Gabe’s intense scrutiny, Tyler muttered, “Don’t worry, Gabe. I’m not going to poach on your claim.”
So much for keeping his personal feelings under wraps. Still, he did his best to regain his composure and set the record straight. “I’m not in a position to make any claims.”
He turned back to the crowd, back to where Reggie had been chatting with a fan just a few feet away.
Except she was no longer there.
Frantic, Gabe scanned the crowd. Lots of people were mingling and chatting, sipping wine. No Reggie. Where the fuck was she? He’d taken his eyes off her for half a minute, and now she’d disappeared.
He plowed through the crowd, muttering apologies as he knocked against wineglasses and stepped on feet. Great, while he’d been focusing on her hot ass one minute and then assuring Tyler and Natalie he didn’t want a one-way ticket to Reggie’s pants the next, she’d managed to slip off alone.
It was exactly as he had feared. Once again, he failed to maintain a professional distance, and it compromised his ability to do his job. He asked the organizer if she’d seen Reggie and choked down panic when she said no.
He started moving through the store, scanning down each aisle, growing more anxious every second that the slimeball bothering her had shown up tonight, had somehow pulled her away from the crowd.
He was supposed to be the professional, the one in control of the situation. He took every client seriously. But Reggie was different. He would never forgive himself if his carelessness got her hurt.
Suddenly, there she was. He skidded to a stop, relief, quickly surpassed by fury, sweeping through him. Reggie was standing in the middle of the ethnic foods aisle, talking with a nice-looking lady in her fifties, expounding on the wonders of fish sauce.
She’d nearly given him a fucking heart attack, and here she was blithely talking about fish sauce.
Without thinking, he walked up and grabbed her arm. He barely held his voice to a reasonable volume as he said, “Don’t ever wander off like that again.”
The woman gave him an uneasy look and took a few steps back.
Some still semi-rational part acknowledged the image he presented. A big gorilla of a guy walking up and manhandling a much smaller woman. But he was too angry, both at himself and her, to really give a shit.
“Gabe, do you mind? I was having a conversation with—” Reggie smiled beseechingly at the woman. “I’m sorry, remind me of your name?”
“Miriam,” the woman replied with an uneasy smile. Clearly, she expected Gabe to start smashing things at any moment.
Reggie nodded and tried to pull her arm out of Gabe’s grip. He didn’t give an inch. “Miriam wanted to know about the fish sauce I put in the curry I made.” She turned back to Miriam as though Gabe didn’t have his hand wrapped all the way around her bicep. “So like I was saying, if you can’t find this, you can use soy sauce.”
Miriam nodded eagerly.
“I’m sorry, Miriam, but Reggie really has to go.” Careful not to hurt her, Gabe all but lifted her off the ground and yanked her down the aisle. Miriam watched their progress with an expression of horror.
Reggie struggled violently against his hold. “Let go of me, you big yeti.”
Yeti? Even through his haze of anger, he had to give her points for originality.
He pulled her back over to the demo area where the last of the crowd was lingering. All conversation stopped as Gabe hauled her past without a word and asked the event organizer if they could use her office to talk.
He pulled her inside the tiny closet-like room and slammed the door shut behind them.
“How dare you do that? How dare you manhandle me at a public appearance, make me look like a fool.”
“Do you not understand the kind of danger you could be in, Reggie? First mouthing off to the caller, and then wandering off like this.”
“Do you understand that I have an image to uphold with my fans? I have a reputation for being approachable. Don’t talk to me like I’m a four-year-old.”
“Don’t act like one then, goddammit!” he boomed.
“She was a nice lady who wanted to know more about Asian condiments. I seriously doubt she was planning on dragging me off to a dark corner to assault me.”
In a much quieter voice, he said, “But anyone else could have seen you go off by yourself with her. It’s late. The store is virtually empty. Miriam wouldn’t have been much defense if someone had tried to grab you.”
She raised her chin stubbornly. “The only one grabbing me tonight was you.”
He sighed raggedly and dragged his hands through his hair. God save him from women who refused to see reason. “Reggie, if you don’t take your safety seriously, how can you expect me to?”
Her eyes narrowed and her glossy mouth pursed. He didn’t know what he wanted to do worse, turn her over his knee and spank her, or kiss the living hell out of her. For starters.
“Pull over here, please.” Reggie uncrossed her arms long enough to indicate the convenience store on the corner.
“Why?”
“Because I need to pick something up, that’s why.” She was still mightily irritated at his earlier treatment of her at Whole Foods. It was bad enough that he had talked to her as though she had all the mental capabilities of a slow child, but making her look bad in front of fans, that was way out of bounds.
The only consolation was that after tonight, she never had to see him again. Which made her unaccountably sad, considering what a class-A jerk he’d turned out to be.
“Why didn’t you get it at the other store?”
Now she had to answer to him? “Because they don’t carry what I want at Whole Foods, not that it’s your business.” He slowed and she reached for the door handle, only to be met by the electronic lock engaging.
“Let me park and walk in with you.”
She blew a frustrated breath up toward her bangs. “Can’t you wait on the corner? You can see me fine from here.” Was it too much to ask for a few moments of privacy so she could go score some Hostess Ding Dongs? If she had to spend one more second in this close proximity, she was afraid she would literally jump out of her skin.
He shot her a “you’re crazy” look and pulled around the block to park.
For once she didn’t feel compelled to keep up a stream of friendly chatter, determined to give Gabe the silent treatment he seemed to crave. He held her arm stiffly, barely touching her with his fingertips as he walked beside her. No doubt he was in as big a rush to get away from her as she was from him.
So she took her time perusing the junk food aisle, picking up and replacing snack foods with apparent deliberation.
The toe of his oxford beat out an impatient rhythm. “How long does it take to pick out a Twinkie?” he finally muttered.
“I’m looking for the one with the best expiration date,” she said, studying the label of a Snowball.
Peering over her shoulder, he snapped, “What, December 2008 isn’t far enough in the future for you?”
A snappy comeback was forming on her lips when Gabe suddenly stiffened, shifting her subtly but firmly behind him. “Let’s go,” he whispered tightly.
“I still need to get my Ding Dong,” she protested.
“We’ll stop somewhere else. I don’t like the looks of that guy.”
Reggie angled her head to see whom Gabe was looking at. A skinny guy in a windbreaker and tattered jeans was loitering over by the magazine r
ack, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other, his hand repeatedly touching the small of his back.
Sure, he looked a little strung out, a slightly unusual sight in this relatively upscale part of San Francisco, but not unheard of. Even if he was high, Reggie imagined he’d come in for cigarettes, a snack, or even a beer to take the edge off whatever he was on. Clearly, Gabe took himself and his job way too seriously, seeing goblins around every corner.
Rolling her eyes, she grabbed a pack of Ding Dongs. Yanking her arm from Gabe’s hold, she stalked up to the cash register.
“Get down!”
Reggie barely registered Gabe’s roar before his full two hundred plus pounds hit her with all the finesse of a linebacker on Super Bowl Sunday. Before she could grunt in protest, he rolled off her, his body a blur of motion as his long legs swept out, knocking the junkie to the floor.
Something clattered down the magazine aisle. A gun, Reggie realized to her horror.
By the time she tore her shocked gaze from the weapon, Gabe had the guy’s arm twisted into an obviously painful—judging from the guy’s screams—hold, while his knee was planted in the middle of the junkie’s skinny back.
Barely breathing hard, Gabe calmly instructed the cashier to call the police.
Chapter Five
“Come on, Reggie, you can’t tell me that you didn’t think it was a little sexy, the way Gabe took that guy down.” Natalie was perched on the corner of Reggie’s bed, watching her pack for her six-week stint on the road filming her new show.
Reggie threw another pair of running shorts into her monstrously oversized wheelie bag. “Honestly, it was a little scary. Don’t get me wrong. I’m glad he saved me from getting mugged and the store from being robbed, but he’s definitely overqualified for what I need. Besides,” she continued, shoving another pair of boots to the bottom of her bag, “you should have seen the way he embarrassed me in front of that poor woman at Whole Foods. Between that and the news coverage the robbery attempt received, people are going to think I habitually surround myself with thugs.”
