Guarded Moments

by Cassie Miles

  “There’s no political or terrorist thing, right?”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “No reason to believe they would kidnap you for a ransom?”

  She laughed. “Mother would never exchange one of her jewels for something as trivial as my life.”

  “What about other relatives? You have a sister, don’t you?”

  Tasha wasn’t ready to discuss Stacey, not while Inspector Henning was in town. “I seriously doubt that anyone would expect ransom from my sister. We haven’t seen each other in years. She’ll usually call at Christmas and my birthday, but I don’t even have a current address for her.”

  “You don’t know where she lives?”

  “She travels a lot. Part of her job.”

  “Which is?”

  “Buying and selling. Import and export,” she said vaguely.

  “And what does she buy and sell? Jewelry?”

  “I don’t really know.” She’d never questioned Stacey too closely. Tasha wasn’t sure that she wanted to know the truth. “I could try to get ahold of her.”

  “That might be wise.” David stretched back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head. “So, the Russian must be after something you have. Information of some kind?”

  Wearily, she said, “Not unless he wanted to consult about the proper floral arrangement for a Russian thug dinner party.”

  “Do you own anything worth killing for? Do you have any of your mother’s jewelry stashed around here?”

  “No. Mother has it all.”

  Tasha pushed herself off the sofa, and when she stood, she realized how tired she was. All this talk about her family was exhausting. Too many of the memories were painful. Pointedly, she said, “Good night, David.”

  “Dammit, Tasha. You’re not going to bed yet. Not until I have some answers.”

  “Don’t give me orders,” she warned.

  When he stood suddenly, she was aware of his strength. His long fingers clenched into fists. His thighs flexed as he took two steps toward her. His blazing gray eyes told her that he wanted to grab her and shake her until he heard the answers he so much wanted to hear. The sheer physical power in his masculinity should have been intimidating, but Tasha did not cower before him.

  She would match his strength with her wits. She’d done it before, and could do it again. Standing, she faced him. “I’m going to bed.”

  “What could you possibly have that these people want?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t I sleep on it? I’ll tell you in the morning if I’ve thought of anything.”

  “In the morning.” The fury in his eyes subsided until the gray irises were glowing embers. “I’m not an impatient man, but I’ll wait only so long.”

  “For what?”

  “Answers.” He turned away from her. “Sleep with your windows closed and your door open. I’ll stay out here on the sofa.”

  Tasha hadn’t thought that far ahead. He was supposed to protect her twenty-four hours a day. And that meant night as well as day. At the shop, he’d mentioned sleeping arrangements. And, really, it shouldn’t be any trouble for him to camp out here. But she didn’t like the idea. There was something terribly disconcerting about having David sleep only a few steps away.

  She drew herself up. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

  “Of course it is.”

  “I’m on the second floor. There’s nothing outside that anyone could climb up to get in the windows. The door is double locked with a dead bolt.” Even as she spoke, Tasha knew that anyone who was determined and skilled could get into her apartment. Any lock could be picked. Any height could be scaled. But she still didn’t want David staying here. “I’ll be fine.”

  “It’s my job to make sure that you are.” He took the straight-back chair back to the dining area and returned to stand toe-to-toe with her. “There will be no discussion on this point, Tasha. I’m staying.”

  As she looked up at him, she realized that her reluctance to have him here had nothing to do with threats on her life. The danger was David himself, the magnetism he exuded without even trying. His strength challenged and aroused her at the same time. “Please leave. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yes, you will. And tonight, too. I’ve never lost a client, and I don’t intend to start with you. If I was going strictly by the rules, I’d insist upon staying in your bedroom.”

  She swallowed hard. The idea of David in her bedroom was not altogether unappealing. The opposite, in fact. “In my bedroom?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I thought you were from a bodyguard service. Not a gigolo.”

  It was a low blow, but he wasn’t in the least bit shaken. Instead, he grinned. The fire within him had cooled. “Don’t flatter yourself, Tasha.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “In the course of my job, I’ve come into close contact with some of the most glamorous, beautiful celebrities in the world. Why would I be interested in you?”

  “I don’t know.” They were so near to each other. She was eye level with his chest, and her contrary attraction to him urged her to unbutton his shirt, to run her fingers across the dark crisp hair on his chest. She looked up into his molten gray eyes. “You’re interested in me, David. You’ve thought about being in my bed.”

  His gaze wavered, and she knew she was right. He’d thought about it. Just as she had.

  But he said, “No.”

  “Don’t lie.” She was playing with fire, but Tasha couldn’t help herself. She wanted so desperately to touch him, to feel his strength melting into an embrace. “Those gorgeous celebrities didn’t turn you on the way I do.”

  “You’re mistaken.”

  “Am I?”

  Her hands rested on his shirtfront. The heat of his body seared the sensitive skin of her fingertips as she glided her hands higher, avoiding his gun.

  When her fingers laced behind his neck, she felt his grasp. He pulled her against his body. Her breasts crushed against him. His head lowered, and he nuzzled her throat, setting off delicious shock waves of desire. Then his mouth claimed hers. My God, the sensations! His kiss was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. She trembled convulsively, clinging to him.

  She felt small and delicate in his arms. With one fierce kiss, he tamed her teasing nature. In one instant, he vanquished the defenses it had taken her a lifetime to build. His tongue penetrated her mouth, and she offered no resistance. She was utterly submissive in his embrace, unthinking and yet aware of every molecule in her being. This moment was serious. It was the most important thing that had ever happened to her.

  Her longing was palpable, undeniable. She wanted this kiss to go on forever. She needed him in her bed, making love to her. Then she would curl up beside him, and she would never be frightened again.

  But David ended the kiss. He took two quick steps backward, away from her, and stood staring in shock at what he had done. His breath came in harsh gasps. “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.” It wasn’t over! It couldn’t be over! “And neither am I.”

  “I shouldn’t have.” He turned his back on her. “Give me a blanket. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

  “I want you closer than that.”

  She stepped up behind him. Her hands lightly traced the holster strap that spanned his back. How could she convince him? What could she say? In his arms, she’d found something that had been sadly lacking in her life. His kiss was the answer to a question she’d been afraid to ask.

  “I can’t,” he repeated.

  “Please, David.”

  She didn’t want to beg. Tasha wasn’t accustomed to being so vulnerable. Her mind didn’t work along those lines. She guarded herself with teasing and flippancy. “Come on, David. Isn’t it in the bodyguard rule book? Stay close to the person you’re guarding. I mean, what if one of the bad guys slung a rope down from the roof of the apartment building and climbed into my bedroom window?”

  �
��Like a cat burglar?” He pivoted so quickly that her hands were thrown back. “Maybe you’re familiar with that line of work.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Inspector Henning of Scotland Yard had some reason to suspect you. What was it?”

  A chasm opened between them, a yawning canyon. She could feel him receding, pulling away from her. “Let’s not talk about Inspector Henning. Not now.”

  “Then I’ll have to say good-night, Tasha.”

  She stormed to the linen closet, grabbed a blanket and threw it at him. This night could have been so different, so wonderful. Harshly, she said, “Sweet dreams, David.”

  “Thank you.”

  He watched her flounce into her bedroom. Her door slammed.

  David cursed his lack of willpower. He should have resisted her. It wasn’t all that unusual for a client to come on to him, but tonight marked the first time he had succumbed. He couldn’t help himself.

  She was the most alluring creature he had ever encountered.

  Was she also a master criminal? A cat burglar?

  Chapter Four

  After a wretched, uncomfortable, mostly sleepless night on Tasha’s living room sofa, David was awake at first light. There was a stiffness in his lower back from sacking out on the attractive brocade sofa that was intended to be used for tea parties, not for sleeping. But his deeper pain came with conscious remembering of what had happened the night before.

  He never should have kissed her. Never. There was no excuse for his behavior. Not only had he been unprofessional but stupid, as well. Because her kiss blinded his suspicions and made him forget that she might be a criminal.

  David vowed it wouldn’t happen again. There would be no unnecessary touching, no physical contact. He wouldn’t even think about her. Yeah, right. As if he could control that section of his brain that was already obsessed with her, imagining her in bed, urging him to peek into the open door of her bedroom and watch her sleep.

  Well, that was his job, wasn’t it? He needed to make sure she was okay.

  Wearing only his silk boxer shorts, he moved silently and stood in her bedroom doorway. Her drapes were closed against the dawn, but he saw her clearly in the glow from the kitchen lights.

  Tasha lay on her back with one arm thrown artlessly above her head. Her pastel green sheets tangled around her slender legs as if she, too, had trouble sleeping. Her white polished-cotton gown twisted across the fullness of her breasts. She wasn’t a bosomy woman, but her tiny waist and the flare of her hips was beautifully feminine. Her body, he thought, was perfect. He wanted to touch her, hold her, feel her respond to him.

  He came closer to her bed.

  Her rich black hair contrasted with the pale pillowcase. Her face, devoid of makeup, looked sweet and innocent. Luxurious black eyelashes formed crescents above her high cheekbones. Her lips parted, breathing sonorously. She was achingly lovely.

  Could it be possible that this fragile beauty was, in fact, a cat burglar of such infamy that she was known to Scotland Yard? David knew he’d never coax the truth from her. Even if he asked all the right questions, Tasha was far too clever at deflecting his inquiries. When she wasn’t directly lying, she was holding back, shielding herself behind a wall of independence, pretending that she needed no one.

  David turned away from the delectable vision that lay before him. He meant to find the answers. Today.

  Fortunately, he had a contact in Denver, somebody he’d planned to look up while he was in town. The guy’s name was Earl Rockman, and he owned a detective agency, a handy resource for the information that Tasha refused to give.

  David dragged on his tuxedo trousers and last night’s shirt. With gun in hand, he hurried through the halls of her apartment building to the rear and checked his rental car. The vehicle had not been tampered with. David had left a nearly invisible wax seal on the trunk. It had not been broken. As far as he could tell, there had been no surveillance during the night.

  Taking his suitcase, he returned to her apartment. He showered, shaved and dressed in a white shirt, khaki trousers and shoulder holster. It was just after seven o’clock when his morning brew finished trickling through the coffeemaker in her kitchen, and he closed the door to her bedroom.

  Nine o’clock in New York, David thought. He sat at her dining room table and dialed the phone number for PEI. “This is David Marquis. I need to talk with Delia Marie.”

  Almost immediately, she came on the line. “You’re awake early, David. Rough night?”

  “You have no idea how rough.”

  “Sounds yummy.” So did her warm, husky voice. “Are you having a problem, darling?”

  “It’s about the client I’m guarding. Natasha Lancer. I need more information about her.”

  “You already have our dossier.”

  The information on Tasha had been only half a page, stating her age, physical condition, the fact that her father was deceased and her mother was from Russia, and that she had a sister. Tasha had run away from home when she was fifteen, dropped out of high school. After traveling across the United States and in Europe, she’d returned to Denver, obtained a GED and had gone to art school. Her flower shop, Bloom’s, was opened six months ago using a combination of savings and a bank loan to cover expenses.

  “I need to do further investigation,” he said.

  “Why?”

  “This client is different. She’s not rich or famous. I don’t know why anybody would be after her. Not knowing where the threat is coming from makes it hard to protect her. I don’t know which way to look.”

  “You’ll just have to look in all directions at once.”

  “Come on, Delia Marie. I need some help.”

  “You’re not a detective.” Her voice held a chiding note.

  He imagined a frown, though he had no idea what Delia Marie looked like. Because of PEI’s valued reputation for discreet services, the upper management—Joseph Singleton, the owner, and his right-hand woman, Delia Marie—remained unseen and as anonymous as possible.

  Still, David’s relationship with the office manager was comfortable. He joked with her on the phone, and they exchanged silly notes on assignments. His favorite was after he’d been fired while doing bodyguard duty for a sultry female rock star. Delia Marie had written, “Client terminated contract. Reason: No rock ‘n’ roll in the boudoir. Congrats, D. You’re the only man on earth to share her bedroom and not her bed.”

  “Here’s the problem.” He exhaled a deep breath. “I think Tasha might be involved in criminal activities.”

  “She has no police record. She’s never been arrested. Let me remind you, lamb chop, that you’re not there to pry into her personal life. Remember, our reputation at PEI is discretion first.”

  “But golly gee, honey pie, PEI doesn’t protect crooks.”

  “Don’t even joke about that.” He heard a shudder in her voice. “We’re really careful about the people we take on.”

  “Isn’t there anything you can tell me?”

  “Your assignment is for two weeks, twenty-four-hour-a-day protection. That’s all I know.”

  “What can you tell me about the individual who hired me as a bodyguard to watch Tasha?”

  “I don’t have a name for you. This job was hired through a telephone contact on a personal recommendation from top-level management. The payment for your two-week assignment was wired. A cash transaction. I don’t have a name.”

  “Doesn’t that seem weird to you?”

  “Not particularly.” She paused. “I don’t understand this, David. It almost sounds like you’re getting personally involved on this assignment. That’s not happening, is it?”

  “I can handle myself.” Except for last night, he thought. Except for the fact that he’d succumbed to a desire that was more powerful than anything he’d felt in a very long time. “I’m a pro, Delia.”

  “Glad to hear it, darling. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Yes. Neither her home nor h
er shop are secure, and I’ll need authorization to purchase alarm equipment.”

  “Approved.”

  “Also, I’d like to hire a backup to relieve me for a couple of hours a day.”

  “You’ve never required backup before.”

  “Like I said, this is different. Usually, I protect people who live in mansions that are completely secure. I only need to be sharp when they’re going out. Tasha is an average person without a butler, chauffeur, maid or guard dogs. I need to be alert twenty-four hours a day.”

  “Approved,” said Delia Marie. “Anything else?”

  For a moment, he considered. He also wanted to run the portrait Tasha had sketched of her Russian attacker through the FBI files of known criminals and through Interpol, but it was probably better not to use PEI resources. Delia Marie was clearly against investigating, and he didn’t want to be pulled from this assignment. Though David would quit if he discovered that Tasha was, in fact, a thief, he wanted that to be his own decision.

  “David? Is there anything else you need or want to know?”

  “There is one more thing.” He took a familiar teasing tone with her. “What are you wearing, right at this minute?”

  “A black lace teddy with a rose at the cleavage.”

  “Lovely talking with you, Delia Marie.”

  “Same here, cutie. Stay safe.”

  David looked up to see Tasha leaning against the hallway arch. How much had she overheard? Did she know he was investigating her? “Good morning, Tasha.”

  “Hi, David.” She yawned, apparently untroubled by his conversation. “Who were you talking to?”

  “My office. Delia Marie.”

  Tasha’s smile was lazy and warm. “So? What was she wearing?”

  “Black lace.”

  “At this hour of the morning?” She’d covered her white nightie with an oversize brown wool bathrobe, designed for warmth, not sex appeal. “How come you’re calling your office?”

  He didn’t want to start off the morning with an argument about how he intended to make her shop more secure. “S.O.P.,” he said. “Standard operating procedure.”

  “Did you find out who hired a bodyguard for me?”