by Cat Johnson
She enjoyed the vista as she tried to think like Rick and figure out where he might have stashed the coffee.
If she were a food obsessed brute with an unhealthy controlling streak and surprising kitchen skills, where would she stash the coffee?
She glanced around the kitchen and added neat freak to her list of descriptions for Rick. Everything was clean and organized, put away in its proper place as if he hadn’t cooked a big meal just twelve hours before.
Her gaze hit on a coffeemaker plugged into the wall on the counter beneath a row of overhead cabinets. Holding her breath, Sierra hoped for the best and pulled open the door just above the coffeemaker.
She smiled wide. There it was, a bag of coffee grinds, just as she suspected it might be. Where else would Mr. Organized put the coffee but above the maker?
Okay, so he was both annoying and handy to have around. She had grown enough over the past few days to be able to admit that freely about her bodyguard.
There was a package of filters next to the bag of coffee. She didn’t know if Rick had brought them or if they came with the rental, but she was grateful the filters were there.
Luckily, the coffeemaker was one of the idiot-proof kinds. Water there. Filter and grinds there. One button to push. Done.
Nothing to do but wait and that wasn’t even for very long. The simple but hardworking maker chugged along and shortly announced its job complete with a pop and a hiss.
Opening the door of the fridge, Sierra found Rick had brought a small container of whole milk. Good enough. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. She’d save her soymilk lattes for when she was at Starbucks. Here, seaside in a surf shack rental, good old-fashioned whole milk seemed to fit.
Another pull of a door and Sierra found the glassware and dishes. She grabbed a mug and poured herself a steaming hot cup, then splashed some milk into the cup’s black depths.
After searching a couple of drawers, she found a spoon, gave the mug a stir and was done. He hadn’t brought artificial sweetener but that would have been too much to ask. She could do without.
She brought the mug to her lips, drew in the aroma of the brew and finally she was ready to take her first blessed sip.
Now that coffee had been acquired, she wanted to see the view without the salt spray coating the windows obscuring it.
It took having to put the mug down and her using two hands against the stuck door to loosen the swollen wood but after a second it released, sending her stumbling. She reached for her mug on the table by the door and headed out into the sunshine.
Facing the water, she closed her eyes, tilted her head back and absorbed the incredible feel of the warmth of the sun on her face while breathing in the fresh air.
There was water in Miami, where she called home when she wasn’t on the road nine months out of the year, but Miami was a city.
This . . . this was almost deserted. There were houses, yes, but at this time of morning and in early March, it felt like she was the only person on the island.
Sierra moved forward, cradling the mug between her hands to absorb the warmth. The heat of the day had yet to take hold and there was a nip in the air. The little bit of a breeze off the water wrapped the bottom of Rick’s shirt tight to her thighs.
Taking another sip she stared out at the water and listened to the sound of the birds. It was a near perfect morning.
When was the last time she’d had one of those?
Hard to enjoy nature when she was in a hotel behind black out curtains. Or to enjoy the morning when she was rushing to get to the studio and into the makeup chair.
Maybe after this movie was done she should take a trip, if she could wedge it in before the start of the next movie, which would be followed by the press tour for this one.
Fame. Money. She had everything she always thought she’d wanted. Funny that once she had it all, it turned out what she really wanted was just a little bit of peace.
“Good morning.” Rick’s deep voice directly behind her had Sierra glancing over her shoulder to frown at him.
“Stop sneaking up on me.”
He snorted. “I didn’t sneak. I walked. Pretty damn loudly too, if you ask me. You were just too busy sighing at the water to hear me.”
She looked back to the view now, preferring that to arguing with him over something pointless.
He took a step forward and she could see he was not only fully dressed, but already in full guard dog mode. He scanned the dunes on either side of them from behind his dark sunglasses.
When he determined they weren’t in imminent danger from an attack from either flank, he glanced down at her. She watched his brows draw low.
“Is that my shirt?”
“Yes. Why? You mad I’m wearing it?”
One corner of his mouth quirked up. “No, princess. Not one bit.”
She could feel his stare on her even through his dark glasses.
“Are you wearing anything under it?” he asked.
“No.” She waited for the reprimand. The order to get inside and put on clothes, or something equally bossy.
It didn’t come. What did was a curse muttered beneath his breath followed by him shaking his head. She was about to ask him what was the matter, when he reached down and adjusted himself through the fabric of his pants, which told her exactly what was bothering him.
Who was in control now? That would be her. She smiled and took another sip of coffee.
“Any word from Jon?” she asked.
She wouldn’t hate staying another day, especially now that she’d tamed her guard dog, but she really did need to get back to the set.
“Nope. It’s still early.”
She turned away from the view with a sigh. “I suppose I should shower and get my stuff together so when the call does come we can leave for Virginia right away.”
“You’re anxious to leave.” He turned with her and followed as she led the way to the house.
“Uh, huh. That way I can get my life back, and get rid of you. I’m taking a shower.” Glancing back, she saw a strange expression cross his face. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave your shirt where I found it.”
“Fine.” His tone was flat as he said it.
She wasn’t awake enough to analyze Rick’s moods. All she cared about was that phone call telling her it was safe to come back. This little sex-filled retreat from reality had been fun, but she was very anxious to shake the hired shadow trailing behind her twenty-four seven. That part of this whole situation she wouldn’t miss.
Taking her mug with her, she made her way back towards the stairs. She might come back to the island again. But next time, she was renting something far less shack-like.
“Hello?” The sound of Rick answering his phone had Sierra spinning back toward the kitchen so fast the coffee sloshed out of the mug and onto her hand.
She shook the liquid off as she strode toward the kitchen. “What?”
Frowning he silently shushed her, which only made her want to know more who was on the phone and what they were saying.
“You feel good about this?” He paused after the question, while Sierra moved closer, dying to know who felt good about what.
Maybe if she got close enough, she’d be able to hear—
Not having it, Rick turned away and walked toward the back door.
How rude.
Scowling, she watched, but didn’t pursue him. Obnoxious control freak that he was, he’d probably rather go out and talk in the surf than let her hear.
He listened to the person on the other end of the line for what felt like forever before he finally said, “All right. See you in a few.”
Turning back, he shoved the phone in his pocket and met her gaze. “You get your wish, princess.”
“We’re going back?” The excitement of that news had her voice rising high.
“Yup.” He strode across the kitchen and sidled around her to move through the doorway. He turned toward the staircase and, taking the stairs two at a time, disa
ppeared upstairs.
CHAPTER 20
Get back into work mode.
Be professional.
Become detached—the way he should have remained the whole damn time.
That’s what Rick had to do because only an idiot got involved with the client while working a close-protection security detail.
He was, by all proof, an idiot. Especially for thinking that what they’d shared had affected Sierra in any way.
Pfft. She was more anxious to get away from him, or more accurately to have him get away from her, than ever.
Sierra reached out and spun the knob of the radio on the dashboard, quieting the rock music blaring out of the speakers. “You’re awfully quiet.”
The princess speaks . . .
After she’d played with her cell phone for literally hours when Rick finally allowed her to turn it on, he’d doubted she was going to say a word the whole trip.
Of course, he hadn’t helped things by turning the radio up too loud for normal conversation. But just because they hadn’t been talking didn’t mean he could forget she was there. She seemed to permeate his senses.
What was that scent? Shampoo? He’d used her shampoo in the shower and he didn’t smell like that. Perfume maybe? Whatever it was had memories creeping through the wall he’d tried to erect in his brain. He was defenseless.
He hated that.
It had been a long three and a half hours together in the car. Good thing the bulk of the trip was behind them.
“Just paying attention to the road.”
The road taking him home to his dead end job and the house he lived in with his sister.
“You know, you never answered me.”
He glanced sideways at her confusing accusation. “Never answered you about what?”
“Your family.”
“You still want to know more about my family?” The only reason Rick could think of why she’d be talking to him at all, and about his family, was that she must be incredibly bored.
“Yes, I told you I did. Why do you have such trouble believing that?”
This coming from the woman who could be tangled up with him for twelve out of twenty-four hours and then walk away without a backward glance.
He kept his opinion on her self centered nature to himself.
“Fine. You want to know, I’ll tell you. It’s a riveting story so you might want to brace yourself.” He glanced over in time to see her wrinkle her nose at him.
Damn, she looked cute sometimes. Cute enough he almost forgot about her cold heart.
Rick cleared his throat. “Well, Mom and Dad are empty nesters now so they’re enjoying life. Hiking the Grand Canyon. They took a cruise through the Panama Canal on New Years Eve. They’re acting like they’re a couple of newlyweds.”
It was honestly a little bit sickening. Especially the time he found them making out in the kitchen last time he visited. He could have lived a whole life without seeing that.
“And your sister?”
He shrugged. “We get on each others nerves but I love her anyway.”
Not so much the other night when Darci and Chris had been at it, once again, at two a.m. and Rick had to be to work at six. If he had to hear her and Chris banging the headboard against the wall one more time, he might have to toss her bed off the back deck.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sierra pursing her lips.
“What?” he asked.
“Exactly as I expected. Your family is perfect.”
Was she serious? “Perfect? Yeah, right.”
“Yup. You said you’d trust your sister with your life.”
“Yeah. So? You can always trust family.” In spite of how they sometimes bickered like they hated each other.
She snorted. “First of all, I know for a fact you can’t always trust family so that whole statement just went right out the window. And I can tell you, your family is abnormal, because most families I’ve seen are pretty messed up.”
“Okay.” Raising a brow at her vehemence, he decided it would be best to just agree with her.
Something had definitely happened. Since she’d been famous since she was barely a teenager, he figured there was a good chance whatever had happened would be public. Rick made a mental note to dig a little deeper into Sierra’s history online.
The scenery speeding past the car windows began to look familiar as they neared Hampton Roads. They’d be saying goodbye in no time, then Sierra wouldn’t have to worry about him or his supposedly abnormally perfect family.
“Roger has you booked at a new hotel. Jon was going to text him this morning so he knew about when to expect us today. He should be waiting for you.”
“How much longer until we get there?” she asked, glancing over.
“Fifteen minutes, depending on traffic.” Then Rick could dump the princess and her suitcase off and get back to his regularly scheduled programming.
“Okay. Great.” She whipped out her ever present cell phone and focused on the screen. Probably to Tweet or Facebook or whatever the hell she posted on that made every damn minute and event of her life public fodder.
Though not every moment. She wouldn’t put what had happened between him and her on there.
That wouldn’t be fit for public consumption. He wasn’t some star or billionaire. He was just her security. Their time together would no doubt remain her dirty little secret. Just like it all never happened.
The final miles passed in silence. Rick stewing in his own bad mood. Sierra doing whatever she did that made her Sierra Cox, social media darling.
It wasn’t long before he spotted the hotel and pulled off the highway and into the drive.
He eyed the location critically. A tall building bracketed by the water and the highway with not much of anything else around save for the convention center. He supposed it was better than the last hotel with the tall building directly across from Sierra’s suite that anyone could use as a vantage point.
And it didn’t really matter anymore what he thought, did it? This case was over just like his association with her would be the moment he turned her over to her manager and drove away.
Rick pulled beneath the overhead canopy in front of the hotel. “We’re here.”
She glanced up and looked at the front entrance. It probably wasn’t up to snuff, in her opinion, but she didn’t say anything. She just reached for the door handle.
“Whoa. Hang on there, princess.”
She turned to frown at him. “What now?”
What now? Yeah, because he’d demanded so much of her today . . . “Wait until I text Roger and tell him to get down here.”
The furrow in her brow deepened. “I can get to my room myself. And look. There’s a bellhop right there. He’ll take my bag.”
Rick wasn’t worried about the damn bag, which was on wheels anyway. “Please. Humor me one last time. Then I’ll be out of your life forever. Promise.”
Yeah, those words didn’t taste bitter at all.
Drawing in a deep breath, she flopped back against the seat. “Fine. Text him.”
He did, and good old Roger texted right back. “He’s on his way down.”
“Good. Can I get out of the car and stretch my legs, at least? Or must I stay in my seat securely fastened?”
Rick rolled his eyes at her dramatic exaggeration. “You can get out.” He had to get out anyway so he could pop the trunk and get her stuff out.
“Sierra!” Roger strode across the short distance between the glass entrance doors and the car. “It’s so good to have you back.”
He pulled her into his arms and hugged her so tightly she laughed. “Roger, I can’t breathe.”
Rick was having a similar reaction to watching the hug. It seemed to hurt to breathe as he thought how he’d been doing more than just holding her about this time yesterday.
“Sorry. I’m just happy you’re safe.” Roger pulled away, but maintained his hold on her shoulders as he looked her up and down, as if to assure
himself she really was okay.
“I’m fine. He had me cloistered away on an island where the only way on or off was by boat or plane.”
“Really?” Roger lifted his brows and moved his focus from Sierra to Rick. “Sounds like heaven.”
Sierra let out a snort filled with derision. “If heaven is a surfside shack that hasn’t been redecorated since the seventies, then yeah. It was heaven.”
“Retro is in, sweetie. Keep up with the times.” Roger dropped his hold on Sierra and moved toward where Rick stood by the open trunk. He extended his hand. “Thanks for taking care of her.”
And there came the guilt, because Rick had done far more with Sierra than protect her. What they’d done together gave close-security a whole new meaning.
Rick accepted the man’s hand, but not his thanks. “Just doing my job.”
His job as her bodyguard. Oh, he’d guarded Sierra’s body, all right.
“Well, I appreciate it anyway. And I’ll make sure to tell your boss that.”
Rick controlled the smile and nodded. “Thanks.”
He and his boss had been to hell and back, a few times, over their years in the teams. After surviving BUD/S together, and DEVGRU, somehow Rick didn’t think Jon would be performing annual employment evaluations on him.
Apparently done with the hired help, Roger turned back to Sierra. “Ready to get back to work tomorrow?”
“You don’t even know how ready. Are the producers mad at me? And the director must be livid I threw off the schedule.” She cringed.
“Not at all. They’d rather have you miss two days of shooting than be—you know—actually shot.”
She laughed. “I guess so. Good point.”
As he slipped her carry-on over his shoulder and grabbed the handle on the suitcase, Rick held back the comment that the shooting was nothing to laugh about. It was a real fucking threat and she and her manager should be taking it more seriously.
“Here you go.” Rick set the suitcase on the ground by Sierra and handed the shoulder bag to Roger. “You all set here?”
“I think we’re good.” Roger answered his question then directed his attention to Sierra. “I got you the best suite they had. Nice view of the water out the back.”
