The next morning, Cassie woke first. He’d moved them during the course of the night so both of them lay on their sides, but he had his arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Her cheek was still pressed against his chest and she liked the way it felt. She started thinking about what had happened between them. Their first sexual encounter hadn’t been as heated or frenzied as she was used to with other men. She also realized that John was nothing like the men she’d dated before. All the same, it had been very exciting, and she knew it was something she wanted to continue to explore with him. Her feelings for him were so tangled up with his protection of her, she wasn’t sure what any of it meant, but she did know that she wanted to be with him like this now.
She felt him stir and looked up at him. It was obvious they were both loathe to break the spell between them. Instead of saying anything, he touched her face, his thumb smoothing back a stray hair on her cheek. She moved up to put herself face-to-face with him. After a long moment, she leaned in to kiss him. His response was instant; his hand slid over her skin, caressing and pulling her close to him.
They kissed for a long time. His hands caressed her skin gently, but with enough strength to excite her again. He wasn’t aggressive at all, simply responding to any nuance she gave him. She wondered at that, and after they’d made love, she asked him.
“Mackie?” she queried, once again laying over him, his body still inside hers.
“Yeah?” he replied, his voice still husky.
“Are you always like this in bed?”
“Like this?” he repeated, grinning.
“I mean,” she said, giving him a narrowed look, “so submissive.”
“Submissive,” he repeated, looking considering, “I didn’t think of this as submissive.”
“What did you think of it as?”
He lifted the hand that hers was still clasped in. He opened his and pressed his palm to hers. It was obvious he was comparing their size. His hand was almost twice the size of hers.
“I think of it as damage control.”
“So, you’re being careful with me?”
He nodded.
“Is that normal for you?” she asked, sensing that it wasn’t.
He canted his head to the side. “What do you think?”
“I think,” she said, moving to sit up and look down at him, “that the adventurous side of me would like to see the real you sometime.”
He sat up, keeping her on his lap, and kissed her deeply.
He pulled back looking down at her. “In the meantime,” he said, his grin in place as usual, “what does the adventurous side of you want to do?”
She gave him a dirty look, knowing he was avoiding talking about what she’d just said.
“I want to get out of town,” she said after a few moments.
“Today?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Okay, where to?” he asked, willing to take her wherever she wanted to go.
“Up the coast,” she said. “Can we just drive and go where we go?”
“You got it, but I’m driving,” he said.
“Deal,” she replied, grinning.
Two hours later they were on the road but not before John insisted they rent a vehicle to drive. Her older model Camaro wasn’t exactly a car he was comfortable either driving or trusting on a road trip. She had to agree with him there. John paid for the rental himself and got them an Expedition. The big SUV was a comfortable ride and had all the amenities that hers didn’t, like a heater and air conditioner that actually worked.
On the drive, their next challenge had been the contest over the music they’d listen to. John liked classic rock, and Cassie preferred alternative music that John couldn’t stand.
“It’s too morbid,” he told her.
“It’s not morbid,” she told him with a sour look, “it’s reality.”
“The whole world isn’t dark and evil, Cassandra,” he told her sternly.
“You sound like my father when you call me that,” she told him.
“Cassandra?” he asked, grinning.
“Yeah,” she said.
“Consider yourself lucky I don’t know your middle name then,” he said, grinning.
“I don’t have one,” she said sweetly.
“No?” he asked, giving her a narrowed look, trying to determine if she was lying to him.
“Nope,” she said. “What’s your middle name?”
He shook his head slowly. “Oh no.”
“Ah, come on Mackie,” she said, grinning, “you can tell me.”
“Like hell,” he said.
“Come on, I’ll tell you all my secrets …” she said, smiling.
“You’re too young to have any secrets, little one,” he told her.
“Not really,” she said, making a face.
He looked considering for a moment. “Abraham,” he told her then.
“Your middle name is Abraham?”
“Yeah,” he said, curling his lips in disgust.
“John Abraham Machiavelli?” she asked. “Or is it Johnathan?”
“Just John, thank God, the rest is bad enough.”
“Well, Abraham and Machiavelli,” she said, giving him a sympathetic look. “Did your parents not have a clue who they were in history?”
John laughed shaking his head. “Probably not.”
“Well, I promise not to call you Abe too often,” she said, grinning.
“Call me Abe once, little one,” he said seriously, “and you’ll find yourself dangling by your toes over a very high cliff.”
“So tough,” she said, grinning. “You wouldn’t do it.”
“Who says?” he replied.
“I do,” she said haughtily. “You couldn’t hurt me.”
“You don’t think so?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I know so.”
“How do you know I won’t lose my temper one day?”
“You won’t, you’re too controlled for that.”
He nodded, knowing she was right.
A little later in the drive, she looked over at him as he lit a cigarette.
“Do you even have a temper?” she asked.
“Oh yeah,” he told her.
“How often do you lose it?” she asked curiously.
“I don’t,” he told her definitively.
“Come on, everyone loses their temper,” she said.
He shook his head slowly. “I can’t afford to lose my temper.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, surprised by the statement.
He took a long drag on his cigarette, blowing the smoke out in a long stream.
“I’m a trained killer, Cassandra. I’ve been taught how to kill with one finger,” he said, holding up his index finger. “Can you imagine what would happen if I lost my temper?”
“Your temper is that bad?” she asked.
“Half Italian, half Puerto Rican,” he told her. “Think so?”
“Holy shit,” she said, nodding her head, “but how do you keep from losing it?”
“I was trained not to lose my temper, not to allow anything to get to me.”
“When did you learn that?” she asked. “In the SEALs?”
“Yep,” he said, nodding, “they push really hard, and will literally get into your face and scream at you.” He shrugged. “I lost it a few times, and paid for it, big time. They don’t mess around with punishment there.”
“Like what?” she asked with wide eyes.
“Like standing on a piling that’s no more than six inches in diameter, holding a bucket of cement in either hand, with your arms held out to your sides at shoulder level, for hours on end.”
“Ouch,” Cassie said making a pained face.
“Yeah, ouch,” he agreed rolling his eyes. “After I managed to get that punishment twice, I decided losing my temper was a bad idea.”
“I think that would do it,” she said, shaking her head.
“They teach you a lot of
self-control in the unit. You learn really quickly that you’re much more dangerous when you’re controlled, than when you’re going on pure anger.”
“How so?” Cassie asked.
“Well, anger can make people stronger, but it can also cause them to make stupid mistakes.
“So, you kind of channel your anger, right?” she asked, remembering what he’d told her about channeling her negative thoughts and energies into her defensive tactics.
“Very good, grasshopper,” he said, winking.
They changed the subject then and talked about where they were going and what they wanted to do. Cassie said she wanted to stay on the coast but wanted to just get away and “unplug” for a couple of days. She knew she was coming up fast and furious on the tour, and she wanted to have her head on straight for that. John couldn’t agree with her more.
They drove for two hours and got to Santa Barbara. There they stopped and shopped. John was always a step behind her, his eyes ever watchful. A few people recognized her, and many of them walked up to her saying that they thought she was very brave. All of them looked at John with either awe or intimidation. The women they passed all seemed to notice John. Cassie noticed that and made a point of grabbing his hand a lot and holding it possessively. She caught his eyes once and saw that he was grinning as he glanced down at their hands clasped together.
“Shut up, Mackie,” she murmured to him under her breath.
That had him laughing out loud.
While they were in town, John inquired about hotels. He found a bed and breakfast called the Tiffany Inn that sounded like it might work for what Cassie was looking for. It was a beautiful quaint-looking house set off the street.
Once there, John checked them in, with Cassie telling him, “One room, one bed,” when he hesitated on the sleeping arrangements. That struck her as odd, but she didn’t say anything at that point. They were shown to the room, a beautiful large room decorated in rose paint and a black floral print wallpaper. A Victorian clawfoot bathtub sat on a raised dais in the room, partially ringed by five bay-style windows.
Cassie ran her hand over it, loving the look and feel of the room. It had been John’s idea to stay in a bed and breakfast, agreeing with the idea that she could use a break from “technology” for a while. This was a definite break, considering there was no TV, no computer, nothing, including a telephone. Cassie thought it was perfect. She turned to John to tell him what she was thinking, and saw that he was checking out the room too. He wasn’t, however, looking at the adornments; he was checking windows, the door, everything else. He was doing his bodyguard work.
“You never let your guard down, do you?” she asked, leaning against the tub as she looked at him.
He glanced at her, his eyes touching on the windows behind her. He walked over to where she sat, and looked over the windows, even as he shook his head and answered her question.
“I’m paid to protect you,” he said, “and I can’t do that if I’m not careful.”
Cassie nodded, wondering when he got time to relax for himself. She realized now how hard she’d been making things on him, her suicide attempt notwithstanding. Before that, she’d been given to spontaneously leave the apartment. Insisting on going shopping wherever took her fancy, eating where she wanted to, regardless of how open or in public she was.
“I’ve kinda made your life hell for a bit, haven’t I?” she asked, grimacing as she did.
He stopped next to her, staring down at her his look measuring.
“You haven’t made my job easy, no,” he said, then quirked his lips in a grin. “Then again, I’ve earned every penny BJ is paying me.”
“How much is he paying you?” she asked, having been curious about that for a while now.
John shook his head. “Sorry, can’t tell you that.”
“Why?” she asked, surprised by his answer.
“The contract is between BJ and me, Cassie,” he told her, his tone slightly chiding, like she’d been prying.
“And I don’t have any right to know what he’s paying you?” she asked, still not believing what he was saying.
“Why would that give you a right?” he asked calmly, canting his head to the side.
“You’re protecting me,” she replied, her voice taking on an edge.
John heard the edge, and pursed his lips, narrowing his eyes at her slightly. It was his way of telling her that she was pushing it, but Cassie wanted to know this now. He shook his head again.
“I’m not at liberty to tell you anything of the nature of my contract with him,” he said, his tone very official. “If you want to know what he’s paying me, you’re going to have to ask Sparks.”
“Even if it’s for me?” she asked.
“Even if it’s for you,” he answered simply.
Cassie narrowed her eyes, to which John only grinned and continued his examination of the room and its security. After a few minutes, Cassie gave up trying to be mad at him; it didn’t work anymore. She knew John had his way of doing things, and there was no way around those methods. She’d already learned that railing at them didn’t work. Why ruin the time here with anger? was her conclusion. Finally, she turned and started the tub, selecting one of the colorful bottles of bubble bath and pouring some into the tub.
She was half undressed, when John walked over to her.
“I’m going to go check out the rest of the house,” he said, standing right behind her.
Cassie glanced back at him. His eyes were averted from her, but when she turned to him, he looked down at her, his eyes straying no lower than her eyes.
“Stay in the room while I’m gone, okay?” he said, his tone stern, but still respectful.
“Okay,” she said, her face reflecting the confusion. She was beginning to wonder if he really didn’t want to see her naked, but why? It made no sense to her. They’d already been intimate, so why was he avoiding looking at her now?
It was something that bugged her even after he’d left the room, and she finished undressing and got into the tub. He was gone for twenty minutes. When he walked back into the room, Cassie watched him. His manner was his usual casual presence, and she didn’t detect any anger or discomfort in him. She was still curious over how he’d acted before he left, but wasn’t ready to ask him just yet. The truth was, she couldn’t think of a way to put it that didn’t sound conceited or downright pathetic. Why don’t you want to see me naked now that you slept with me? just didn’t sound right in her head.
“Feel better?” he asked as he sat down in a chair across from the tub and stretched his legs out in front of him comfortably.
“Some,” she said truthfully.
The bath felt wonderful, but her emotions were all over the place.
“I need some noise, Mackie,” she said, realizing it was the silence that was part of what was weighing on her.
John stood up, walked around the bed, and bent down to turn on the radio on the nightstand. He tuned the radio until it came up to a rock station he felt he could handle and that would suffice for her tastes as well.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much,” she said, smiling appreciatively, “now if I could just get you to wash my back …” she said, her voice trailing off as she grinned.
John grinned too, inclining his head.
“Your wish is my command,” he said playfully.
He kneeled on the floor behind the head of the tub. Cassie was surprised he’d agreed so easily but leaned forward. John took the wash rag, lathering it with the glycerin soap the hotel provided. He proceeded to wash her back gently, but thoroughly. Cassie closed her eyes, enjoying the indulgent sensations he was causing.
He took his time, but he never strayed past her back and shoulders. It wasn’t like he was rushing through an abhorrent task, he seemed to relish it. But by the same token he took no more advantage than that. It was a strange combination. When he stopped, he moved to sit on one of the stairs just below the tub.
Cassie tu
rned to the side, resting her head on the cool ridge of the tub, staring down into his eyes.
“You take nothing for granted, do you?” she asked, thinking that might be the reason for his behavior.
“Meaning this?” he asked, gesturing to her lying in the tub and his proximity to her.
“Meaning anything,” she said. “Yes, this too. It’s like you’ve forgotten about last night and this morning altogether. But then again, it’s like you haven’t.” She shook her head, her thoughts getting all jumbled.
He reached out to touch her lips to silence her, his eyes staring into hers.
“I remember last night and this morning,” he assured her, “but this is one call I’m letting you make when it comes to our relationship.”
“Relationship? Meaning what?” she asked, wanting him to clarify what he was saying.
“Everything, Cassandra,” he said gently. “We have a business relationship, it’s my job to protect you. Now we have some semblance of a personal relationship, and that’s what I’m going to let you guide. I won’t take any liberties you don’t give me, with regard to your body or your personal life, outside of what I need to know or interfere with to do my job.”
“And it’s that easy for you?” she asked, shocked at his way of thinking.
He grinned. “I never said it was going to be easy for me, little one.”
Cassie pressed her lips together, suppressing the thrill that those words gave her. So, he was going to have a hard time controlling himself, was he? The vixen in her wanted to push his limits, and see how much he could take, but another part of her didn’t want to mess with what they had going. She wasn’t sure which side would win.
“So, is this a standard bodyguard practice?” she asked innocently.
His eyes narrowed, nailing her for her attempt at duplicity.
“You mean, is it a habit of mine to sleep with clients, thus making this sort of practice common place?” he summed up.
She winced at having it put that way. “Okay, yeah, so? I was asking if you’ve slept with other clients, sue me.”
He grinned widely at her tone. She sounded like a cross between a petulant child and a jealous girlfriend. He found it quite endearing.
In the Fast Lane (Wild Irish Silence Book 2) Page 11
