Bodyguard Reunion

by Beverly Long

  He lowered his chin. “You’re famous for your white bean chicken chili?”

  Now she did laugh. “Well, maybe in my own mind. But it’s really good.”

  “So you were talking about cooking?”

  “Yes.” It had been easy conversation while they’d eaten their lunches. Pleasant.

  The kind of thing she expected sisters might talk about.

  “I make a pretty mean pot roast,” he said.

  “Fine. We’ll include you the next time.” She sat down on the couch and leaned her head back against the cushion. “I think she’s really into food. Her eyes light up when she’s talking about it and it seems like she knows a lot. She said that she watches cooking shows all the time.”

  “Maybe she should try to get a job at a restaurant.”

  She heard what he wasn’t saying. He’d always had a strong sense of responsibility and it likely bothered him that Charity had been so blasé about not having a job or being in school. “It takes some kids longer than others to find their way.”

  “At twenty-four, you were already a manager at Geneseel.”

  With responsibility for a staff of more than twenty associates. “I was an overachiever,” she said, her tone deliberately light.

  He wasn’t buying it. She could tell. “I read your bio,” he said. “I listened to you yesterday talking to Cole Hager. I heard this morning’s session. You really know what you’re talking about. You’re the real deal.”

  She felt very, very warm. She’d always worked hard and tried to do well, but since her divorce, she’d been driven to succeed. Work was really all she had. “I appreciate you saying that,” she said.

  It wasn’t all that she appreciated. “I...I want you to know that I’m very grateful for all your help these last two days. I really didn’t know how this was going to work with the two of us being together like this but you’ve been so professional. It’s really been amazing.”

  He stared at her. “I never wanted anything bad to happen to you. I still don’t.”

  “What happened after that night at my father’s condo?” she asked. “I’d really like to know how you got from there to here.”

  He sat down in the chair opposite of her. “I went home to Texas. Licking my wounded pride,” he added with a small smile.

  He was probably trying to make her feel better. But she’d seen the look on his face that night, had realized that her admission—that she planned to marry Bryson after all—had hurt him terribly. “And you went back to school?”

  “Yes. And worked. Did both full-time.”

  “Talk about driven,” she said.

  He looked very serious. “I wanted to be a better man.”

  She looked down at her hands. “I think you’d have to look a long way to find a better man. You are kind and honorable. A very good man.”

  “I was uneducated and unemployed. Certainly not suited for you.”

  “I thought we were suited. We seemed suited.”

  The air in the room seemed to be tight, making it hard for her to breathe.

  “But here’s what I don’t get,” he said. “Those things were both true. But they weren’t new news. I hadn’t hidden anything from you. Yet something your father said that night when I stepped out made a difference.”

  He was getting too close to the truth. And there was no way that she could have that discussion with him. He was too smart.

  “I never meant to hurt you,” she said, desperate to redirect his attention from that night. “I’m grateful that you moved on,” she added quickly. “That you forgot about me.”

  She saw a quick flare of emotion cross his eyes. “Is that what you think?” he said, practically spitting the words. “Do you think that I simply shook the Fifth Avenue dust off my boots and eased into the rest of my life?”

  She didn’t know what to say.

  He evidently took that as permission to go on. “Did that make it easier to sleep at night?” he asked, his tone full of disgust. “Did you tell yourself that it was nothing, that it meant nothing?”

  “I never thought that,” she managed. She was going to cry. She did not want to do that in front of him. She stood up fast.

  But he was faster. And he caught her before she rounded the edge of the couch. He crowded her, his big body walking her backward until she came up against the wall.

  He was so close. His body was pulsing with energy. With one hand, he gripped her chin, not hard enough to hurt her but enough that she was forced to stare into his eyes.

  “I almost lost my damn mind,” he said. He was close enough that she could feel his warm breath on her face. “I didn’t want to live anymore.”

  No, she thought. But knew that it was true because she’d felt much the same. Except she’d had the additional burden of acting like the happy bride-to-be while slowly dying inside. But she couldn’t tell him that.

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “You said the same thing that night. It didn’t make a difference then. Do you think it makes one now?”

  She’d hurt him badly. “You were right to hate me,” she said.

  He jerked in surprise. “Hell,” he said. “I never hated you. I loved you.”

  He bent his head and took her lips, his kiss punishingly hard. And she felt it. All the years of pain and loss and loneliness.

  And his hand was under her shirt, groping. His hips pressing into her, grinding. He was hard and her body, so starved for his touch, ignited as if a match had been lit.

  She jerked his shirt from his pants, desperate to feel him. His back was taut hot skin and muscle and everything that she remembered. And she tilted her hips, rubbing herself against him.

  He lifted his mouth, his lips hovering just the smallest of distances. “Jules, Jules,” he murmured, before kissing her again. This time more gently.

  She wasn’t having any of that. Her hands still under his shirt, she moved them quickly, circling around his ribs. And she pinched his flat nipples. Hard.

  And she nipped at his lower lip.

  And hitched one thigh around his waist, opening herself to him.

  “Take me,” she said, slipping her tongue inside his mouth.

  He reached both hands down, under her butt, and lifted her. Her back was against the wall, her legs around his waist, and she let her head fall back, giving him access to her neck.

  “Hang on,” he muttered, his voice guttural.

  And he carried her back to her bedroom, closing the door with his foot. Then he dumped the two of them on the bed and they fell in a tangle of limbs.

  He ripped the buttons on her blouse in his haste. She didn’t care. She yanked down her skirt, squirming under him.

  He tossed her underwear aside and she was naked in his arms. And when his fingers found her, she arched in his hand, her hips inches from the bed.

  Hot skin. Hot need.

  He had too many clothes on. She found his belt buckle and fumbled with it. Hissed in frustration.

  She heard his soft chuckle. “I got this,” he said.

  And he was good at getting naked fast. But then he slowed down. Took his time licking and sucking her breasts, until she was begging him. Ran his fingers gently over the scrapes on the back of her knee that she had gotten from the exterior of the Periwinkle. Gently kissed her there, then set a trail of kisses up her thigh, settling at the base of her spine.

  “Now. I need you now,” she said.

  But still he lingered. Until finally, she heard the rip of a condom opening. She opened her eyes and watched his face as he so carefully entered her.

  He was a big man in all ways and she appreciated his care. But once he was in, seated deep, the need to have him even deeper roared through her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed her inner muscles.


  “Jules,” he said.

  She did it again. And then he was moving. Deep strokes, touching her in places that hadn’t been touched for so long. Their bodies were slick with sweat and when he kissed her, she could taste salt on his skin.

  Her need was spiraling out of control. She wanted, she wanted, oh my, there it was. She broke, coming in waves, her body heaving with the joy of it.

  And he rode through it. And only when she was done shaking did his strokes become long and sure again. When he came, his big body jerked and a small cry escaped his mouth.

  He slipped out of her and she felt the bed shift as he rolled to his side and then up. She heard the toilet flush in the bathroom and then he was back, with a soft towel. He handed it to her.

  Even with his hair all tousled like a little boy’s, he looked very serious.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, still sitting on the edge of the bed. “That was...pretty fast,” he said.

  She shook her head and smiled. “Fast would have been if you’d taken me against the living room wall. Once we got in here, you were dawdling.”

  “I guess I wanted to give you time to change your mind.”

  He said it lightly but she suspected it was the truth. If she’d have told him to stop, he would have. There was no doubt in her mind.

  “I wanted you,” she said.

  He let out a big breath and lay back down in the bed. Then he gathered her into his arms, letting her head rest on his chest.

  She closed her eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in days. The afternoon sun was shining through the partially open blinds and she felt safe. The day felt clean and pure.

  When she woke, she was disoriented. The room was not dark but the bright light of the sun had slipped away. She raised her head.

  He was awake. And when she moved, she saw him stretch his arm, as if it might have gone numb.

  “You should have asked me to move,” she said.

  He just shook his head.

  “What time is it? We have to get up,” she said. How was she going to explain this to Charity? She threw back the sheet and hurried to sit up.

  He was watching her with unabashed interest. When he reached out, palmed her breast and lightly pinched the nipple, she felt an immediate response between her legs. They were going to be right back in bed if she didn’t do something fast. She gathered up her clothes and practically sprinted to the bathroom.

  She cleaned up and ran a brush through her hair. As quick as she was, by the time she finished and opened the bathroom door, she saw that the bedroom was empty, with the sheets and bedspread loosely pulled up and straightened.

  When she went out to the living room, Royce was dressed and sitting at the table, his computer in front of him.

  “Jules,” he said. “I’m not sure—”

  She held up a hand, stopping him. That made two of them. She didn’t know why she’d been so out of control with need and she sure as hell had no idea what to do or say about it now. “Please,” she said, “can we not talk about it just yet?”

  He didn’t look happy but he nodded. He closed his laptop. “Bobby Boyd is out on bond. About an hour ago.”

  Chapter 15

  “I don’t believe Charity would go back there,” she said. “She’s smarter than that.”

  He wasn’t as confident of Charity’s good judgment but given that his own was pretty damn awful, he shouldn’t be casting stones.

  He never should have kissed Jules. And he sure as hell shouldn’t have had sex with her.

  Because now that he had, it was going to take a damn lifetime to forget about it. He’d simply been fooling himself when he’d told himself that he was over her.

  I loved you. That’s what he’d confessed when he’d had her back against the wall. At least he’d had the smarts to put it in past tense.

  Because there was no doubt, he wasn’t over her.

  She didn’t want to talk about it.

  Probably for the best.

  He glanced at his watch. “What time did Charity say she was coming back from the pool?”

  “She didn’t. But yesterday, she was down there for a couple hours. She came back about five.”

  It was almost six o’clock. Maybe she’d fallen asleep in one of the lounge chairs. Jules had needed rest, maybe Charity felt the same way. “She has her phone, right? Why don’t you call her?” he suggested.

  Jules picked up her phone, pressed a couple keys. She had it on speaker. It went right to voice mail.

  “Try again in a couple minutes if she doesn’t call you back first,” he said.

  Five minutes later, they went through the same drill and got the same results.

  Royce picked up the hotel phone. When his call got answered, he spoke fast. “Do you have the capabilities to page a guest in the pool area?”

  “Uh...yes, we do.”

  “Then, I need you to page Charity White. That’s Charity White. She needs to contact this number.”

  “Sir, we hesitate to page overhead. In deference to the guests who may be resting. I’m sure you understand.”

  “This is important,” he said.

  There was another pause. He supposed the clerk on the other end was looking at the daily bill rate of the suite Jules had rented and considering options.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “We’d be happy to do that, sir. The page will go out within the next five minutes.”

  Fifteen minutes later, there was still no call from Charity. He could tell that Jules was very anxious as she paced around the suite. “I’m going to go look for her,” she said.

  He’d been expecting this. “Absolutely not.” There was no way that Royce intended to let Jules go to the pool area, even if he was with her. Way too open, way too many places for somebody to hide. If something had happened to Charity at the pool, perhaps it was done in an attempt to draw out Jules.

  He would go look for Charity but he wasn’t leaving Jules alone. Not even if she was behind a locked door.

  Trey did twelve-hour shifts for Billy-Bob Anderson, usually from 5:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. Billy-Bob liked to take his plane up during the day and frequently invited Trey along for the ride since Trey was one of the few security personnel whose stomach handled the dips and razor-sharp turns that Billy-Bob loved.

  He should be done with work now, probably on his way back to Vegas. Royce picked up his phone.

  Trey answered on the third ring. Royce could hear the faint drum of highway noise in the background. The airstrip was almost an hour west of Vegas.

  “I need an assist,” he said to his partner.

  “Okay,” Trey said, sounding much more awake. There would be no questions, no smart remarks hinting that he should have been able to handle his own case.

  He knew that Royce rarely asked for help. He would know immediately that this was important.

  Royce explained the situation and Trey said he’d be at the Periwinkle in fifteen minutes. Royce hung up. “My partner Trey Riker is on his way. He’ll be here while I go to the pool and look for Charity.”

  To her credit, she didn’t argue. That, more than anything, told him that she was finally taking the threats against her seriously.

  She swallowed hard. “Do you think something has happened to her?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I think there’s a good chance I’ll find her at the tiki bar, having drinks with some guy she’s just met.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Jules said.

  Royce slipped on his sports coat so that his gun was out of sight. He put his cell phone into one pocket and the key card into the other. He paced around the room, silently cursing Charity. “What was she wearing?”

  “What she had on this morning. Blue jeans. A white T-sh
irt and a pink hoodie. She mentioned something about getting really cold at the pool yesterday.”

  “Did she take a bag with her when she left?”

  “An off-white beach bag,” Jules said. “I don’t know what was in it.”

  “I’m going to check her room.” He walked down the hallway, aware that Jules was following him. The room had been cleaned by the maid that morning. But there was a comb on the sink and her open suitcase in the closet.

  It did not appear as if the girl had intended to leave. Maybe she was simply just not watching the time. But when he found her, he was going to read her the riot act for making Jules worry.

  He heard a knock on the door. He smiled. Trey, always prompt, had made it in twelve minutes. He walked back to the living room, checked the peephole and opened the door.

  When Trey came in, Royce saw him take everything in. The suite. Jules.

  And he felt the first stirrings of jealousy in his gut when Jules smiled at the man. Trey was a good-looking guy and never had any trouble finding female companionship.

  And he knew his partner well enough to know that the man liked what he was seeing.

  “Trey Riker, this is Juliana Cambridge,” he said.

  When Trey glanced at him again, a question in his eyes, Royce knew that he’d done a poor job of tamping down his emotions. His tone had been sharp, too sharp.

  Jules stepped forward. “Please, call me JC,” she said, extending her hand.

  Trey shook it, smiling. “Nice to meet you,” he said.

  Damn. Maybe he should send Trey looking for Charity versus asking the man to keep watch over Jules. But he knew that didn’t make sense. He’d never met Charity; he couldn’t pick her out of a crowd at the pool.

  “Jules has a friend staying with her who has not returned from the pool as expected,” he said. “I want to go look for her but I can’t leave Jules alone.”

  “Okay,” Trey said. He looked around. “Nobody else here?”

  Royce shook his head.