“You have?”
Liev swung back to the actor, steadying himself against the churning heat in his gut looking at the American caused. “When you were here last year filming Dead Even. Rhodes asked me to watch over you while he was trying to find the person responsible for the attempts on your sister’s life.” He grinned. “From a distance, mind you. He was very adamant about that. No one was to know I was there.”
The actor ran a slow inspection over him, from head to toe and back again. Liev resisted the urge to shift his feet. The scrutiny was ambiguous but unsettling all the same. If Liev wasn’t careful his bloody dick would give away how unsettling. “Well, you did a good job,” Chris said, narrowing his eyes as he studied Liev’s face. “I don’t recognize you at all. And I know I’d—” He stopped. “And I don’t forget a face.”
Liev accepted the compliment with a nod of his head. The actor had intended to say something else, but what? “Thanks, mate.”
“So you think you’re the right man for the job?”
Bethany’s calm question sent an unexpected finger of tight anticipation down Liev’s spine. Whether it was because of his sexual attraction to her boss or the fact she had a thoroughly sexy American accent, he wasn’t sure. With the way his body was behaving, he was beginning to think this job wasn’t a good idea after all. The pay was phenomenal for seven days’ work. But was it worth walking around with a semi for the duration?
It would be so much easier if he were in some kind of steady, committed relationship. But he didn’t do steady, committed relationships.
Giving Bethany a wide grin, he nodded again. “I’m the man for the job. Aslin Rhodes wouldn’t have recommended me if I wasn’t.”
“That’s true,” Chris said. “When it comes to protecting those he loves, Rhodes is almost manic.” The actor pulled a face. “That sounded much more impressive and far less weird in my head.”
Liev laughed.
Chris grinned.
Liev wished he hadn’t. The man’s smile was everything Liev liked in the expression. It showed off Chris’s white, even teeth. It formed tiny laugh lines at the edges of his brilliant-blue eyes. It hinted at a shallow dimple in his left cheek. It was relaxed, cheeky and infectious, and Liev knew he was going to have a hard bloody time not picturing it later that night in the shower.
And in bed.
Yeah, taking this job probably wasn’t a good idea at all.
“May I get you a coffee, Mr. Reynolds?”
Liev dragged his gaze from Chris’s face to focus on Bethany again. She was studying him with an ambiguous expression, her eyes slightly narrowed.
“Or a beer? A drink?” she went on. “The bar is fully stocked and I am quite proficient at mixing any drink you’d like.”
“Bethany is quite proficient at everything,” Chris said, dropping into the sofa. He rested his calf on his knee, stretching his arms along the back of the piece of furniture. “She has my days planned down to the last second.” He tossed his personal assistant a quick smirk. Liev couldn’t miss the warm affection in the look. “When am I going to the bathroom next, Bethany?”
Bethany flicked the slim gold watch on her wrist a look. “In two hours and fifty-four minutes, Mr. Huntley.”
Chris grinned at Liev again. “See?”
“That drink, Mr. Reynolds?”
Liev shook his head. “Thanks, but no. A coffee will be fine. I’m a teetotaler.”
“Really?”
Liev returned his focus to Chris, his chest squeezing a little at the actor’s relaxed sensuality. “My parents were killed by a drunk driver when I was young. It had a profound effect on me.”
Chris’s expression turned dark. “I know what it’s like to lose your mom and dad. It sucks.”
Liev nodded. “It does.”
A strained silence stretched across the room, made all the more tight by the way Chris’s stare held Liev’s. Liev knew about the murder of Chris’s parents twenty years ago. Aslin had filled him in on the situation in preparing him for the job. It was one of the reasons Chris didn’t like being swarmed by fans, one of the reasons he preferred to remain out of the public whenever possible. The guy may be one of the funniest men on television, but when it came to his personal life he was a homebody.
Liev liked that.
What’s that mean? You sizing him up for something more than just being your boss? Ha. You’re deluded, dickhead.
“How do you take your coffee, Mr. Reynolds?”
Liev started at Bethany’s calm question. He drew in a slow breath, forcing his heartbeat to slow down. Being this on edge wasn’t going to cut it. He’d be jumping at shadows after a day if he kept this up. Not the ideal state for a bodyguard to be in. “Black is fine.” He smiled at the tiny bundle of constrained efficiency. “Espresso if that’s possible? And it’s Liev, not Mr. Reynolds. Please.”
Bethany’s pink-glossed lips twisted as she digested his requests. For the first time, Liev noticed just how full her lips were.
Christ, mate. Stop looking at everyone in here with your dick, will you?
“Take a seat, Liev…” she indicated the armchair opposite Chris, “…while I get your espresso.”
Chris chuckled. “She likes you, dude. I’ve been asking her to call me Chris since my sister and Rhodes employed her.”
Lowering himself into the plush leather chair directly across from Chris, Liev scoped out the immediate layout of the room. The harbour-facing wall was made entirely of four glass concertina doors—now open to allow the breeze from the water to flow into the living area. The balcony had no ground access, something Liev had noted as he walked the jetty on arriving. The architecturally impressive home was three stories. On the top floor were the three bedrooms, the master bedroom facing the harbour with glass concertina doors and a smaller balcony. The first floor comprised the living areas, kitchen, laundry and office. The ground floor was the entry foyer, a guest bedroom, fully kitted-out gym and a massive, completely sound-insulated hundred-seat home cinema. Liev had pulled some strings with city-council—thanks to his contacts as a volunteer firefighter—and procured the plans of the building before arriving, studying them until he knew every square inch. He knew where all the windows and doors were, the easiest ones to gain access with the aid of a ladder and those the sensors of the built-in security system didn’t detect.
He also knew, thanks to a quick phone call, some fast-talking and a little flirting, the security system’s deactivation code. How easy it was to gain those four numbers still made his gut clench. He’d already had a rather terse conversation with the manager of the security firm, pointing out how exposed their clients were if their staff gave out vital numbers to anyone who could spin a convincing story. The last thing Liev would do before leaving today was change the number to something else.
If he could procure it with a bullshit tale of being a visiting relative who wanted to surprise the owner, any of Chris’s more determined fans could as well.
Better to be safe than sorry.
“So,” Chris’s voice drew Liev’s attention back from the details of the job, “tell me about yourself. All Rhodes said about you was, and I quote, I’d trust him with my life, he’s a scary sod when he needs to be and more powerful than he looks.” The actor snorted, his gaze roaming over Liev with such intensity Liev had to suppress the urge to squirm in the seat. “Which means you must be stronger than the Hulk ’cause you look goddamn invincible.”
The compliment lashed over Liev like a hot caress. He ground his teeth, willing the tight throb in his groin to go away. “Rhodes has a way with words.”
Chris chuckled. “Damn straight. Last week he told me I was a big girl’s blouse when I needed to take a break during training.” He frowned. “I still don’t really know what that means.”
“It means you didn’t need to take a break.” Bethany appeared at Liev’s side to hand him a small brushed-steel cup on a matching saucer. “That you could have trained harder and longer.”
<
br /> Chris raised his eyebrows. “How do you know that, Bethany?”
She gave her boss a steady look. “I know everything.”
Without a word, she turned and walked away, but not before Liev noticed a tiny smile pull at the edges of her mouth.
His gut clenched. Little Miss Efficiency had a naughty streak. Crap, he didn’t need to know that.
“She does, it seems.” Chris let out a melodramatic sigh. “And I suspect she reports to my sister on the hour. Which means Rowie knows everything as well. And here I was thinking I’d get to run amuck in Australia this time. Party hard. Maybe even get laid.”
Liev choked on his espresso.
Chris laughed. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to do that to you. And I’m not planning on getting laid. Haven’t got time for that, do I, Bethany?”
Bethany reappeared at Liev’s side, placing a platter piled high with fresh fruit, cheese and water crackers on the coffee table. “It’s not in your schedule, Mr. Huntley.”
“See?” Chris slumped back in the sofa, his face a mask of dramatic dismay. “No time for fun. Guess it’s just the three of us for the next seven days. Can you deal with that, Liev?”
A hot lump filled Liev’s throat. He shifted in the armchair, the crotch of his jeans uncomfortably tight. His stupid brain was presenting all sorts of options for the three of them for the next seven days. None of them remotely professional. “I can deal with that.”
“Good.” Chris reached forward and snagged a hunk of brie from the platter between them. Liev couldn’t help but notice the way the muscles in his arm and shoulder coiled and flexed with the movement. Rhodes had told Liev the actor was working out hard. It was obvious. Bloody obvious.
“Four, Mr. Huntley.”
Liev blinked at Bethany’s obscure statement.
Chris frowned. “Four what?”
“There will be four of us,” Bethany corrected. “Jeff Coulter arrives tomorrow.”
Chris smacked his palm to his forehead. “Shit, that’s right.” He pulled a face. “Damn, don’t let Jeff know I forgot him.”
Bethany’s lips twisted into another ambiguous smile. “Not at all, sir. Would you like me to retrieve your overnight bag from the yacht, Liev?”
It was Liev’s turn to frown. “Overnight bag?”
“You do realize part of your role as Mr. Huntley’s personal bodyguard while he is here in Australia requires you to stay in his presence twenty-four seven?”
Liev swallowed. “Umm.”
Bethany cocked a straight auburn eyebrow. “Is this a problem?”
Liev’s gut knotted. “No. I just…wasn’t…”
The actor’s personal assistant frowned. “I’m sorry. I think this may be my fault. I’m sure I mentioned it to you when we last spoke on the telephone.”
“No.” Liev shook his head. “It’s news to me. But not a problem.”
“Are you sure?” Bethany flicked a quick look at her boss. “I’m certain another bodyguard could be—”
“No,” Liev interrupted, shaking his head again. “It’s all good. I’ll just whip home and grab some stuff.”
“Excellent.” Bethany’s answering smile was stunning. If Liev wasn’t already so unsettled by his sexual attraction to the American actor sitting opposite him, he’d be floored by the young woman standing beside him. Come to think it, his horny bloody brain had already tried to create a debauched fantasy involving all three of them.
“I shall arrange a taxi to meet you at Circular Key to drive you home. Is that okay?”
“Perfect.” It would be easier for the taxi to collect him from where he was now, but Liev didn’t want too many people knowing the location. And with Chris being in town, the paparazzi were out in force. Images of Chris arriving at the airport had appeared online already. Liev had scanned the celebrity gossip sites during the yacht trip across the harbour, noting more than one image of the actor in the airport terminal was attributed to the infamous Australian paparazzo, Carl Holston. Rhodes had pre-warned him Holston would be a nuisance.
Paparazzi weren’t something Liev had had to deal with guarding politicians. It was only the odd job he had taken protecting Nick Blackthorne with Aslin that had exposed him to their particular kind of scum. And in Australia, Holston was the king shit of them—
“Chris!”
The scream came from beyond the open doors. High, wild and female.
“We love you Chris!”
Liev was on his feet before the shout finished. He crossed to the balcony, Bethany in tow.
Outside, bobbing up and down on the water at the end of the jetty was a water-taxi. Standing at the stern, dressed in little bikini-tops and miniskirts, were four young women.
All four squealed as Liev stepped out of the living area, one of them waving a sign with a mobile phone number scrawled in what looked like pink lipstick beneath the words Call me, Chris. I’m yours.
“So it’s begun,” Bethany murmured at his elbow.
Liev cast her a sideways glance. A scowl pulled at her lips and eyebrows as she fixed her stare on the giggling women.
Swinging back to the water-taxi, Liev withdrew his mobile from his back pocket and dialed a number.
The woman with the sign let out a screech. She gaped at her friends. Her friends gaped back. The one closest to her snatched the sign from her hand and said something to her. All four of them stared at Liev and Bethany as the woman pulled a mobile from the small purse hanging over her shoulder and raised it to her ear. “Hi? Chris?”
“G’day, love,” Liev said, watching the woman’s face. “I suggest you tell the driver of the taxi to take you as far away from here as he can. Now. Before I—”
The woman hung up. Liev saw her do it before he heard the connection between them cut.
“Boo,” one of the women called across the distance.
“Spoil sport,” another shouted.
However the young woman whose number he’d called had scurried off the stern and was now talking to the driver of the water-taxi.
There was a delay—no longer than a few seconds—and then the small motorboat pulled away from the end of the jetty, taking the booing, giggling, waving young women with it.
Liev dialed another number on his mobile, watching the small watercraft as it skimmed across the calm waves.
“Skippy’s Water Taxi,” a voice said.
“G’day, mate,” Liev answered. “Can I speak to the boss, please?”
Forty-five minutes later, Liev tucked his mobile back into his jeans’ pocket. Every water-taxi service in Sydney had been notified no fares to Chris’s location were to be accepted without approval of Liev Reynolds or Bethany Sloan. It had cost Liev a small percentage of his income for the job to grease the palms of all the owners, but it was worth it. At least that was one thing crossed off the list. While in a phoning mood, he called the water police and negotiated a five-hundred metre no-go-zone around the jetty. After that, he called his contacts in the local police command base, letting them know he was Chris Huntley’s official bodyguard during the actor’s stay in Australia. One asked Liev to get his daughter Chris’s autograph. The other laughed and told Liev he was a lucky bastard and did he want to swap jobs for seven days.
He was still grinning about the question when he turned back to the living area to find Bethany and Chris looking at him.
He froze.
Oh boy.
Bethany—the bundle of poised control and efficiency—was studying him with open approval, her arms folded across her breasts, her lips twisted in that same smile she’d worn earlier. If Liev didn’t know any better, he’d think there was a gleam of interest in her eyes. But he did know better. Rhodes had filled him in on Bethany Sloan. She was utterly professional, utterly no-nonsense and completely straight-laced.
Which made it safe for him to include her in his sexual fantasies with Chris.
Chris.
An invisible clamp wrapped around Liev’s chest. His breath grew thick.
He slid his stare to the actor standing at Bethany’s side, one-hundred percent certain what he’d first thought he’d seen on Chris’s face when turning back to the living room wouldn’t be there.
It couldn’t be.
It was just a trick of the light. It had to be.
Looking at the actor, Liev bit back a strangled groan.
Because it was still there. On the American’s face. Subtle and almost masked by the relaxed grin Chris was famous for. Almost but not quite.
Desire.
Curious, confused desire.
Liev’s stomach lurched. His groin grew tight.
Crap. What was meant to be an easy seven-day job looked like it was well on its way to becoming something else altogether. Something far more bloody conflicted and complicated.
Liev didn’t do conflicted and complicated.
Liev did simple.
But there was nothing simple about the way Chris Huntley was looking at him. Nothing.
And there was nothing simple about the way Liev’s body was responding to that look.
Nothing at all.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Chapter Three
The man was naked and dripping wet. Chris knew this for a fact because he’d heard Reynolds start the shower attached to the third bedroom only a few minutes ago.
He bunched his jaw, wriggled deeper into the sofa and switched on the large flat-screen television mounted on the wall beside him. He needed a distraction.
Of all things, an episode of Twice Too Many came on. The one from the first season where Will Abbott, the OCD lawyer Chris portrayed, lost a bet to his best friend and had to do a pole dancing routine at the America’s Got Talent auditions.
He studied the screen, watching his younger self slide up and down the pole with hopeless hilarity to the sounds of canned laughter.
It wasn’t working. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t keep his mind on the ridiculous situation the writers of the episode had concocted. It kept wandering back to the Australian currently naked a mere forty or so feet away.
Guarded Desires Page 2
