Guarding Jess

by Shannon Curtis

  Noah stared at her for a moment. She sat there with a determined tilt to her chin, her eyes glinting. But despite her bravado, he could see the shadows under her eyes, the lines bracketing her mouth, the pale tinge to her complexion. She was insular. She wasn’t confiding in her aunt or her friends. She gave good face, but she was running on empty. Up until now she’d successfully hidden the impact this was having on her, but apparently a dunk in a pool was cracking her foundation.

  Oliveria knocked on the door and stuck her head in. “Uh, Jess, I’m so sorry, but something’s come up.”

  Noah watched as the lines on Jessica’s forehead deepened. She took a deep, fortifying breath. “What?”

  Oliveria hurried over to the desktop computer. “May I?” she asked, gesturing to it.

  Jessica nodded. Noah rose from his seat and walked round to stand behind Jessica’s chair. He had a sinking feeling that whatever it was Oliveria wanted to show them, it wasn’t good.

  Chapter Five

  The overhead light glared on the computer screen, and Noah hunkered down so that he could see it better. His head was on level with Jessica’s. Her perfume was stronger at this close range. Not overpowering, just…distracting.

  He heard her breath catch, saw her chest rise. He swallowed. Eyes on the prize, Samuels, eyes on the prize. He kept his gaze glued to the screen.

  “I just got a call from Rachael MacNeil,” Oliveria murmured as she tapped on the keyboard. Noah heard Jessica’s soft groan. “She told me it’s everywhere.” Oliveria accessed a popular video-sharing online site, typed in Jessica’s name and stood back.

  Noah leaned forward, and so did Jessica.

  A clip appeared onscreen. The title flared across the screen. The Rise and Fall of Jessica Pennington. An image appeared. Jessica. At the hotel. On the podium. Noah winced. Well, that’s not going to end well. And it didn’t. Someone had filmed the incident at the fountain, and put a soundtrack to it. Noah grimaced. The artist, Pink. Nice choice. He generally liked her music.

  They watched the clip play, watched Jessica get swept away by Noah to the sound of “Stupid Girls,” the music rising to a crescendo just as they landed in the fountain. But it didn’t stop. Noah chewed his cheek as the drenched Jessica climbed out of the fountain and stomped away. In time to the music.

  The clip finished. The office grew heavy with silence. Noah didn’t want to be the one to break it. Oliveria turned hesitantly to Jessica, her face worried.

  “It’s already on the Most Popular list, and Channel 6 has called for a comment,” Oliveria said tentatively.

  Noah winced. Ouch.

  Jessica stared at the screen for a moment, then erupted into laughter.

  Noah blinked as she chuckled in her seat, then reached over to the mouse and hit the play button again. At the moment they dived into the fountain, her chuckles rose to a howl of laughter. He couldn’t help himself. His lips twitched. It was kind of funny.

  Oliveria rolled her eyes, although her lips were also tilted at the corners.

  “This is serious, Jess.”

  Jessica nodded as she wiped tears from her eyes. “Oh, come on, Ollie. It’s funny.” She heaved a sigh and tried to make her expression serious. “But you’re right. It’s serious. Channel 6 wants a comment.” And that statement sent her laughing again.

  Noah couldn’t hold back his own chuckle as she replayed the video again.

  Oliveria threw up her hands, but her lips spread in a smile. “So, what do you want me to do, Jess?”

  Jessica coughed as she shifted in her seat. “Okay. Sorry, Ollie. Don’t worry about Channel 6. This will bring out a couple of giggles, but the less we say, the better. It will blow over quicker, then. I’ll call Amelia Winthrop and apologize for leaving so abruptly. I’ll send her a Recchiuti Chocolates gift box. We’ll ride the fifteen minutes of fame, and I’ll do a quick reference to it on Friday.”

  “Recchiuti?” Oliveria raised an eyebrow.

  Jessica shrugged. “When only the best will do. They’re also Amelia’s favorites. And mine.”

  “Friday?” Noah asked.

  Jessica nodded. “I have a regular spot on Good Morning, San Francisco. That way I get to address the matter on my terms.” She smiled at her friend. “Thanks for the laugh, Ollie.”

  Oliveria chuckled. “Hey, I’m your best friend. Who else will point out your most embarrassing moments to you? You’re amazing.” As the curvy woman left the office she was shaking her head, but wore a smile on her face.

  Noah agreed with her comment. Miss Prissy seemed to have a sense of humor, after all. Jessica rose and grabbed her bag, and he couldn’t help the way his gaze traveled over her. The pearl-gray material she wore seemed to caress her figure, gliding over the swell of her breasts and hips, flowing over her waist and thighs. She’d escaped a letter bomb, she’d been followed and thrown into a fountain, yet she could still laugh at herself. The proper lady was getting more attractive by the minute.

  He snapped out of his reverie. She was the target, and she was on the move.

  “Finished for the day?” Damn, he hoped so. This woman crammed a lot into her schedule.

  Jessica nodded, a small smile on her lips. “I think so. It’s been a busy day.” She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Quite frankly, I just want us to go home and go to bed.”

  Noah’s eyebrows rose.

  Jessica blinked, and her cheeks grew rosy. “Uh, not together, of course. I meant we go home and eat, and then go to bed. Separately. Well, not go home separately—” She clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m just going to stop talking. Let’s go.”

  She hurried out the door.

  Noah smiled. She was embarrassed, and endearing, and sexy in her little repressed way. Yet she could laugh, and she’d shoved him into a fountain. That glimpse he’d had of the fiery woman beneath the false, cool façade she presented to everyone was very interesting. He’d like to see more of that honest passion, and he wanted to be the one to bring it out. Shake her tree. Just a little. The thought of hopping into bed with the sexy woman was enough to have his own cheeks heating.

  He sighed. She was Miss Prissy, his assignment, and not the kind of woman he would be drawn to.

  Hell, no.

  * * *

  Jessica had duchess potatoes baking in the oven, and was just warming the pan for their steaks when Noah entered the kitchen. She tried not to stare. He was wearing sweatpants and what looked like an old army T-shirt, the material soft and clinging to his chest. His biceps were, uh, wow. She tore her gaze from the muscles exposed by the khaki short sleeves, and turned back to the fry pan.

  “Can I help?” Noah asked in his deep voice.

  “No, it’s fine. Besides, you’ve been working since we got home. Go relax, I’ll call you for dinner.” On the way home they’d stopped for some groceries, as well as some equipment from a hardware store and an electronics shop, and he’d installed cameras and a security system while she’d prepared the potatoes. He’d worked quietly and efficiently in the background. Nonintrusive, nonthreatening, just—there.

  Noah rested a hip against the bench and folded his arms. “Nuh. Securing your home wasn’t that demanding. I’m your bodyguard, Jess. Not a houseguest. You don’t need to look after me. If we’re eating together, I’ll pull my weight.”

  Jessica peeked at him briefly before pulling the steaks out of the shopping bag on the counter. “It’s okay.” This kitchen wasn’t big enough for the both of them. Well, actually, it was, it just seemed like Noah’s presence ate up way too much space. Air. Peace of mind. “I can manage.”

  “I know you can, but I’m still going to help. Why don’t I fix us a salad?”

  Jessica shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “Sure.” She showed him where to find utensils and bowls, and made room for him at the
kitchen counter, then returned to her own task of cooking the steaks. The meat gave a satisfying sizzle as soon as it hit the hot surface. Noah started humming as he began to chop up tomatoes. Jessica’s smile broadened. The man hummed in the kitchen. She liked that. She prodded the steaks with a fork. They were massive. She wouldn’t be able to eat a full one, but figured Noah wouldn’t have any trouble finishing off hers. She prodded the meat again. It wasn’t anywhere near close enough to turn.

  “It’s dead, Jess.”

  She burst out laughing. “I know it’s dead.”

  Noah sliced a cucumber. “You keep poking it as though you’re expecting it to get up and run.”

  Jess shook her head. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve cooked steak.” She usually ate tuna, or salmon, or chargrilled chicken breast—all healthy options for a working woman.

  Noah came up beside her and bent over so that his eyes were on level with the pan. “When it comes to steak, I’m definitely your man. I’d give it another two minutes at least, then flip.”

  Jess bowed. “Thank you, Chef.”

  Noah gave an abrupt bark of laughter. “You ain’t seen nothin’, yet. I make a mean salad dressing, too.”

  Jess tilted her head. “Where did you learn to cook so well?” She was intensely curious about the man temporarily sharing her home, and for once, he seemed receptive to small talk.

  “The army. When you spend a lot of time eating MREs, you make the effort to prepare something better whenever you have the opportunity.”

  “MREs?”

  “Meal, Ready-to-Eat. Field rations.” Noah returned to his salad preparations.

  “Oh.” She stared at his broad back for a moment. “How long were you in the army for?”

  “Twelve years.”

  She did some quick calculations. “That would mean that you joined when you were what? Nineteen? Twenty?”

  “Twenty. That’s the youngest the Special Forces will take.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You’re an ex-Green Beret?”

  Noah glanced over his shoulder. “We prefer the term former Green Beret.” He winked.

  “Ah. Sorry. Former Green Beret.” She had a former Green Beret tossing a salad in her kitchen. That was something she’d never expected to experience. Her brow puckered as she looked down at the meat. She hadn’t expected to experience any of this. A stalker, a letter bomb. A smoking hot bodyguard. She pursed her lips. It shouldn’t matter that Noah was smoking hot. Or that he could cook. Or hum as he did it. He was her bodyguard. He wasn’t standing in her kitchen because he liked to hang out with her. His job was to hang out with her.

  “They’re ready to turn,” Noah said, nodding at the fry pan.

  “Oh, sure. Of course. Thanks.” She picked up the tongs and neatly flipped the steaks, watching out of the corner of her eye as Noah whisked up a herb-mustard vinaigrette. He started humming again. She checked the meat, content to just listen in companionable silence as Noah inadvertently took over her kitchen.

  “Why did you join the army?” she asked as she took the pan off the heat and started to set the tiny kitchen table for dinner.

  Noah hesitated before placing the bowl of salad on the table. “I wanted a change of scenery.”

  “From what?” she asked as she removed a bottle of beer from the fridge for him. Noah shook his head.

  “I’m on the job. No alcohol for me, thanks.”

  Jess returned the bottle to the fridge. On the job. She really needed that reminder. She was enjoying his company, perhaps a little too much. She was relaxed around him, treating him more like a friend than a bodyguard. He’d surprised her, though. He seemed relaxed, as well. Comfortable. He’d even chatted. Chatted! She grabbed the pot holders, opened the oven door and removed the potatoes. She busied herself at the counter while Noah transferred the steaks from the pan to their plates. There he was again, effortlessly sliding in beside her and doing things she hadn’t expected.

  A moment later they were seated at the table. Noah held up his knife and fork. “Bon appétit,” he said, waggling his eyebrows.

  She couldn’t help her answering smile, and despite her repeated mental warnings found herself enjoying their casual conversation as they ate their meal, and he told her more of his experiences in the army.

  “You’re right,” she conceded a while later, holding up the last wedge of cucumber on the end of her fork. “This salad dressing is delicious.” She had been right, too. Noah was able to finish off her steak.

  Noah smiled. “Glad you enjoyed it.” He started to gather up the empty plates and waved aside her protests. “Where I come from, whoever cooks doesn’t need to clean afterwards. Go relax.”

  “But you made the salad,” she argued. She didn’t want to ask who cleaned up after him. The thought that he might have a girlfriend—oh, gosh, what if there was a Mrs. Samuels? She didn’t want to think about it, and refused to ask herself why.

  “And you made everything else. Go. Sit. Relax. That’s an order.” Noah shooed her from her kitchen.

  Jessica glanced over her shoulder before grabbing up a historical romance novel from the escritoire and collapsing on her sofa. She stared across the room for a moment. He’d shooed her from her kitchen. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had cleaned up after her, had fussed over her just the teeniest bit, even if it was disguised as an order. It felt—weird. But a nice kind of weird. Tomcat jumped up and made himself comfortable next to her thigh. She sighed as she opened the novel to the bookmark, a smile tugging at her lips. There was a sexy man washing dishes in her kitchen, and she was trying not to like it too much.

  Right.

  She started to read, immersing herself in the Regency romance.

  “Jess.”

  Her eyelids fluttered.

  “Jess, wake up.”

  It was a nice deep voice, warm and pleasant to listen to.

  “C’mon, Jess, wake up.”

  Her eyes shot open to meet a dark, gentle gaze set in a ruggedly attractive face. “Noah? Noah!”

  He was crouched beside the sofa and leaning in close, but moved back a little as she sat up quickly. Her book tumbled from her lap. Noah bent over and handed it to her, an amused smile playing on his lips.

  Jess blinked as she smoothed her hair. What—? Where—? She looked around. She was in her living room. She must have fallen asleep.

  “How long…?” She trailed off, meeting his gaze, helpless against the blush creeping over her cheeks. She’d fallen asleep. On the sofa. While he’d washed her dishes.

  He shrugged, and she was struck again by the size of him, the strength. “Half an hour, maybe. You must have needed it.”

  Her nod was interrupted by a yawn. “Oh, pardon me,” she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Noah grinned. “When I saw how you were sleeping, I thought I’d better wake you up. Otherwise you may have woken up with a sore neck tomorrow morning.”

  He’d watched her sleep? Under current circumstances, that should have creeped her out, but instead a warm, tingling feeling woke up deep inside her. And then hit her cheeks and heated them more.

  “Thanks.” She rose from the sofa, and he stood, as well. He didn’t move away, and she could feel the warmth of his body, so close to hers. She cleared her suddenly dry throat. “I’ll head on off to bed, now.”

  He nodded. “I’ll do a security check around the premises, and then turn in myself,” he said gruffly.

  Neither of them moved.

  It took her a moment to realize she was staring at his arms. She forced herself to meet his eyes. The awkward moment ended when they both moved abruptly away.

  “Er, good night,” she said over her shoulder as she left the room, feeling as though her cheeks were scorched.

  Noah blinked, then nodded. “
Yeah, good night.”

  * * *

  She was running. She sensed him behind her. She couldn’t see him, but she knew he was there. Watching her. Stalking her. Like a lion on the prowl. She ran faster. Harder. No matter where she turned, or where she hid, she knew he was coming for her. A flash went off, blinding her. She blinked, her hand rising to rub her eyes. She fumbled for the door, sobbing. Her heart felt like it was going to pound right out of her chest. She felt for the chain. Another flash sparked. A hard hand reached from behind and grabbed her shoulder.

  Jessica jerked upright, gasping. Her heart was thundering in her chest. Her sheets lay in a tangled mess around her legs. Perspiration trickled down the side of her face, and down her neck. She shivered. She closed her eyes and took deep, gulping breaths.

  A dream. It was just another stupid dream. She dragged her hand over her face, then opened her eyes and stared into her darkened room. She turned her head and glanced at the clock on her bedside table. Two o’clock. She sighed. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since she’d found the first envelope on her doorstep. No wonder she’d fallen asleep on the couch, earlier.

  She kicked off the covers and ran her hands through her hair, lifting it off her wet neck. Her heart had slowed to a nearly normal pace. She got out of bed, tugged up her dressing gown from where it had fallen off the end of the bed to the floor, and shrugged into it as she made her way to her kitchen.

  A soft meow greeted her as Tomcat jumped up onto the bench. “Hey, Tom,” she whispered. She reached over and scratched him between the ears. She no longer kept the window open for him at night. She didn’t want to give the stalker an invitation for a visit, and she wanted Tom to be safe—not outside where anyone could get to him.

  She took a mug from the cupboard and went to the fridge to get out the milk. She was developing a routine. Nightmare. Milk. Read email. Try yoga. Toss and turn until her alarm went off. Get up and face the day.

  She sighed. Tonight she felt a little more secure. She’d seen Noah install security lights at her front and back doors, and also around the backyard. He’d called his associate, Drew, and the man was organizing a new, off-site answering machine with tracing software. Noah had also scanned all of the letters and sent them to the psychologist he’d mentioned, as well as to Detective Carmichael.