Wild About The Bodyguard

by Tabitha Robbins

A good girl with two boyfriends? “Guess it depends on your idea of good. Everyone took at least one trip to the principal’s office.”

  “Not me.” When his mouth swung to one side, she leaned back more against the counter and arched a brow. “Well, it’s true.”

  While her gaze challenged his, he couldn’t ignore the draw of her body, the way her hips tilted and chest popped…

  Chase crossed his arms to contain some of the energy. How long had it been since he’d last been laid?

  He cleared his throat. “Focus, remember?”

  “I’m not the one getting all fidgety.”

  He’d be honest. “It might help if you didn’t go draping yourself all over the place.”

  “Is that what I’m doing?” She looked amused. Irresistible. “I’m draping myself?”

  He ran a palm around his steaming neck. “Your friend—Fay. Did the police question her?”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure.”

  “Does she still live around these parts?”

  “We bump into each other every now and then.”

  “And the boys you were seeing?”

  “I think one joined the army. The other—I have no idea.”

  “There was a building super.”

  “Yeah. He was a bit weird. Very quiet. Lived on the lower floor with his family. Shouldn’t you be writing this all down?”

  He ignored the advice. “I’ll need Fay’s full name.”

  She found a yearbook in a bottom drawer, pointed out some names and headshots, and then eyed his empty cup. “Want a refill?”

  He didn’t need the stimulant. In fact, he should probably get out of here before those personal urges grew into something more. But when she reached for his cup, he found he was already offering it over. Her fingers wrapped around and covered his. Skin seemed to fuse before a stream of heat funnelled up his arm. As his gaze caught hers, that energy coiled around his chest, constricted and then dropped lower. The erection that had been waiting, biding its time, suddenly swelled enough to make him groan.

  Whenever he needed to exert pent-up energy, he sawed into some timber, popped off a few rounds. Of course, masturbation had its place. But nothing fed the beast like the intimate company of a woman who ignited the senses. And, like it or not—good move or bad—that’s precisely what Sammy Mayne did for him.

  Dropping her gaze, she crossed over to the pot. He followed. While she poured, he stood behind her, close enough to absorb the warmth radiating from her body, which sparked a few thousand more pheromones. As she pulled the bowl over and heaped in sugar, a primordial tug in his gut grew stronger. By the time she was stirring, his lips were hovering near the shell of her ear. When he let his eyes drift shut and inhaled her floral scent, his erection jumped and warned him to quit fucking around.

  Definitely time to go.

  He stepped back, got it together. “Actually, I’ll take a rain-check on the second cup.”

  She spun around. “We’ve only just got started.”

  Believe me, “I have enough for now.”

  She smiled that awesome smile. “You could stay for lunch if you’re hungry.”

  Oh, yeah. He was hungry, all right. Hungrier than he’d been in a while.

  He headed out. “I’d better get going.”

  At the door, she said, “I appreciate what you’re doing. You’ll never know how much. But I can’t pay you. Or at least not much.”

  “I don’t want your money.”

  She smirked. “You’re doing this for the love of it, right?”

  For love? He stopped himself from leaning in and tasting those lips. “Guess you could say that.”

  Chapter 5

  When Sammy asked if he was doing this for love, Chase had played it down.

  Truth was…he was enjoying this exercise more than he’d even imagined. He couldn’t lie to himself. Not anymore. He liked the idea of being on a case. He liked the idea of working with Samantha.

  Sammy.

  No getting around it. He wanted to know her in a biblical sense. He didn’t think she had any idea how attractive she was—at least to him. The combination of amazing hair, sumptuous curves and mischievous, inquisitive ways set his blood alight. But he was getting ahead of himself.

  Seemed he had a case to solve.

  He’d gone through the yearbook. Jacob McPherson, boyfriend number one, liked athletics and was a star member of the debating team. Big easy smile, a clear gaze fixed on the future, McPherson was a politician in the making.

  As Chase tracked down personal information, he wondered how far young McPherson and Sammy’s relationship had gone in the old days. Dates to the movies with, perhaps, some necking? She’d admitted to having two guys on the go. Chase could imagine the hopefuls lined up for a spot—past and present.

  Was she seeing anyone at the moment, even casually?

  An hour after tracking down McPherson’s place of work—not what he’d expected—Chase drove into a San Bruno parking lot. As he sauntered in through the establishment’s glass entrance doors, Chase cast a look around. He liked the atmosphere of a public health club. Music pumping, people of all builds and ages working hard, or taking a well-earned timeout at the water cooler. More earthy than the gym at the club.

  He spotted McPherson sitting in a cubical off to one side of the main workout area; he was immersed in his laptop’s screen. When the receptionist asked if she could help, Chase said he was enquiring after a membership and had been given McPherson’s name.

  Soon, McPherson was striding out toward the reception counter, arms swinging and big politician’s smile beaming. Seemed everyone had their teeth whitened these days.

  McPherson offered his hand. His grip was firm and eager.

  “Let’s take a seat,” McPherson said, moving toward a table and chairs, “and I’ll get some deets.”

  “Mind if we go through to your office. More private.”

  McPherson looked at Chase twice, and then ushered him through. While McPherson took a seat behind his laptop, Chase closed the door before taking an adjacent chair.

  “Nice looking set-up,” Chase offered, glancing out the window panel upon a fleet of faithfuls putting their all into treadmills and rowing machines. He found a believable way to ease into the conversation. “A friend owns a gym. It has the works, dance studios included.”

  When an image of the pole in Sammy’s living room flashed into Chase’s mind, he set it aside. Not that kind of dancing.

  McPherson sat forward. “Where’s your friend’s gym?”

  He picked a place. “Pacific Heights.”

  “I’d have thought he’d give you a good rate.”

  McPherson caught on quick.

  Chase flipped out his still current P.I. licence and McPherson’s eyebrows shot up.

  “I’m under some kind of investigation?” he asked.

  “I’m asking a few questions for a mutual friend. Samantha Mayne.”

  “Is Sammy in trouble?”

  “Would it be a surprise if she were?”

  McPherson leaned forward more, lodging his elbows on strong hairy knees. “From what I remember, Sammy was a lot of fun, but her nose was always to the grindstone. She had dreams of being an actress.”

  “You were seeing each other in junior year?”

  “We knocked around together. There was a group of us. All tight. I would’ve liked more...you know, like have her wear my class ring. But while some girls were daydreaming about marriage and having babies, Sammy wasn’t distracted by boys. We were more friends than anything.”

  Chase cocked a brow. So, she had been a good girl.

  McPherson grabbed his bottle of water and knocked back a gurgling mouthful before asking, “What’s this about?”

  “Ten years ago, Samantha and her sister were the victims of a crime. A robbery.”

  “Where?”

  “Their apartment. A piece of jewelry was taken.”

  “Sorry. Don’t know anything about that.”

  Ch
ase trusted his gut. McPherson’s expression was calm, clear. He’d known nothing about the theft a decade ago and couldn’t see any reason to know about it now. Chase took in the awards and champion photographs hanging on the walls. This guy worked hard, competed and found reward in effort as well as achievement. Not a former cat burglar. Certainly not a man who had progressed to more nefarious crimes.

  “You had a buddy back in high school,” Chase went on. “Murray Elson.” Boyfriend number two.

  “We kept in touch after he joined the services.” His jaw flexed as he pushed aside his water. “He was killed during a tour last year.”

  Chase’s stomach muscles clenched. Who could express the pride and gratitude felt by so many toward those who’d given so much?

  Chase had one more question for McPherson—one of personal as well as routine importance.

  “The original report,” Chase said, “lists a David Green as a person who might be of interest.”

  McPherson’s gaze narrowed as he cast his thoughts back. “Don’t recall that name.”

  “Apparently he was in the drama club with Samantha.”

  “I wasn’t into that acting crap. Not that I wasn’t proud of Sammy that way. I went to a couple of her performances. She had a certain quality. Something really special.”

  Chase stopped himself from saying I agree.

  McPherson went on. “But I don’t remember a David Green.”

  Chase got to his feet, opened the door. “I’ll let you get back to it. Thanks for your time.”

  “Can I ask?” McPherson stood, too. “Why are you investigating this now, nearly a decade after the theft?”

  “Ms. Mayne believes she might have tracked the piece down. I suggested we do a little background work and try to fit some pieces together before going forward.”

  They shook hands and, a moment later, about to slip into his vehicle, Chase heard McPherson call out. The fitness instructor was jogging over in shoes obviously fitted with NASA quality springs; he was bouncing on air.

  “Just remembered something I thought might be of interest.” McPherson pulled up. “I met Sammy’s sister a few times. Nice lady. A bit of an overachiever, but I get that. After their mom passed, Ann must have felt the pressure to hold it all together.”

  “Ann Mayne had been acting strangely?”

  “Only insofar as she was grieving, like Sammy. It was her boyfriend who made my scalp crawl. A person’s eyes reveal a lot. That guy’s eyes were…”

  “Shifty?”

  “Guarded. Like he wasn’t sure if you knew what he was thinking.” Backing away, McPherson added, “Say hi to Sammy for me. Tell her it’d be fun to catch up.”

  As Chase reversed and drove out of the parking lot, leaving McPherson and his Rock body to jog back inside, he recalled from his research that he hadn’t married. There were no photos of a girl on his desk, either. Absolutely McPherson would have fun catching up with an old flame like Sammy Mayne. And, although Chase recognised the twinge beneath his ribs for what it was, he shouldn’t be jealous.

  Still, at the thought of being with her again, he drove back to her address with his foot to the floor.

  Turning the coupe into her street, Sammy recognized the car parked out front of her condo. Pulling into the driveway, she spotted the man sitting on her porch steps. He was concentrating on his smartphone. Important message? Sammy grinned. She had one for him.

  Chase had left his card the other day. She’d programmed in his number. Now, parking out of sight, she pulled out her own phone and sent a text.

  Haven’t heard for a couple of days. Just a heads up in case you have something for me. I’m unavailable till tomorrow.

  Grinning, she got out of the car and waited.

  I do have something for you, he replied. Can you put off the other?

  Her fingers danced across the keys.

  Depends what you got…

  This reply took longer.

  We should talk.

  Sammy: Talk?

  Chase: Um, yeah. Talk.

  Sammy: So, definitely no draping required.

  Sammy was at the corner of her condo now. She peaked around. Chase was smiling at his phone, shaking his head, but in a good way. Like he was into her, at least a little.

  Chase: I can’t stop you from draping if you really want to drape.

  Before she could text back, another message came through.

  But maybe best to wait until we’re inside. And then. I know you’re hiding round the corner.

  Her gaze shot up from her phone. He was smiling over at her, his eyes laughing.

  As she sauntered over, she held up both hands. “You got me, officer.”

  “You didn’t think I saw you drive in?”

  “You didn’t look up.”

  “Didn’t mean you weren’t on my radar.”

  His voice was so deep and rumbly, those words combined with that cheeky glimmer in his eyes…Sammy felt intoxicated. She could never have believed that trying to solve the mystery of that missing ring would ever be fun. Now, she actually hoped Chase Wild didn’t get to the bottom of this case too soon.

  As she put out her hand to help him to his feet, he hesitated before taking a hold. The heat and strength of his fingers as they curled around hers steamed through her blood. When he was on his feet, looking down at her from his vantage point on that step, that intoxication spiralled all the way up to her dizzy zone. She wanted to fan herself.

  As she skirted around him, he followed her to the door, so close on her tail, she was tempted to lean back and feel his solid frame connecting with hers. How was he feeling? What was he thinking? And she didn’t mean about the case.

  She led him into the kitchen where they cracked open a couple of beers.

  “I spoke with Jacob McPherson today.” Chase lowered his voice. “He let me know that your other friend, Murray, didn’t come home from a tour.”

  It took a moment for the news to sink in, and then she was flooded by memories. Murray waving his inflated “number one” hand at basketball games...helping herself and Faye with math whenever they asked. They’d lost touch. Now, his life had been snuffed out early, like her mother’s had been. It was difficult to grasp that you’d never see that person again.

  “McPherson also said he felt that your sister’s then boyfriend, now husband, had behaved suspiciously around that time,” Chase added.

  Sammy brought herself back. “So, Jacob thinks Rick’s behind the theft?”

  “He didn’t say that. Neither did I. But we shouldn’t discount it.”

  Sammy had always had her suspicions. “Do you think Ann knew?”

  Chase shifted his weight onto the other leg. “First we need to sift through whatever evidence we have, whatever additional information we can find, and go from there. We want to approach this the right way. That’s softly, softly.”

  “You’re the cautious type.”

  He averted his gaze and mumbled, “That’s the best way,” before tipping back more beer.

  She thought back to a week ago and how Chase had said there could be a dangerous element involved in any criminal act. She remembered him asking, “Do you own a firearm?”

  “Private investigating would have its dangerous moments,” she surmised.

  “Having second thoughts?”

  “Just wondering whether you’d ever been injured. Whether you were ever hurt on the job.”

  He seemed to school his features. “No. I was never hurt.”

  She wanted to ask more except...clearly while he enjoyed chasing leads, he didn’t want to be reminded of the past for some reason. Sure. None of her business. Even if she was curious.

  “What do you do for downtime?” she asked, changing the subject. It had nothing to do with the case but he didn’t look as if he minded this question. In fact, his chest inflated as he grinned.

  “I renovate.”

  “As in houses?”

  “One house. My house. It’s a work in progress. Lots of sawi
ng and painting and boy’s stuff.” He nudged his chin toward the living room. “I take it you dance.”

  “You mean the pole?”

  “Yeah, I mean the pole.”

  As his lips curved into a speculative grin, she played it up.

  “You must have seen a girl dance before.”

  “I’ve seen a few.”

  “Not at your establishment though.” The upper crust Don.

  “Maybe I should introduce it.”

  “Maybe you should. Remind me to give you a demo sometime.” As he set his beer down on the counter, she did the same and then moved to the adjoining doorway. Running her eye up and down the pole, she slanted her head. “Guess you don’t see them in every house.”

  “Definitely not in mine.”

  “You know they have pole dancer conventions and awards and all kinds of things,” she went on. “It’s big business. All the bits and pieces that go with it, too.”

  “Pieces like what?”

  “Well, the costumes are amazing. Tassels and sequins.” She paused. “Leather and ropes...”

  He was standing directly behind her now. Every time he spoke, his words seemed to seep into her skin, heating her cheeks and her bones. He put it out there.

  “Are you purposely trying to tease me, Sammy?”

  A thrill swirled around her stomach. “What would you say if I am?”

  “I’d say that I usually don’t get too close to a client.”

  “How close is too close?”

  His breath brushed her temple as he murmured close to her ear, “This close.”

  Standing at Sammy’s back, looking down over her shoulder, Chase watched her breasts rise and fall—a deep and spellbinding rhythm. As his lips skimmed her perfumed hair, she seemed to quiver and then melt.

  He edged closer until his belt grazed the dip of her back. His erection reared at the same time his lungs sent a message: need more air. Controlling each breath, he dropped his head a few inches more to the exposed slope of her neck.

  When his mouth touched her skin, she shivered; nipples pebbled under her Tee. Edging in more, he swept his lips over that spot again. Her hands bunched at her sides at the same time her head rocked back and a soft, wanting sound left her throat.