by Casey Hagen
The air hummed between them. In a blink, that chip Dylan talked about slid off her shoulder. Slyder could almost hear the sound of it hitting the floor.
“So, help me make sure you’re around for many years to do just that,” he said, his voice thick.
She sighed, her shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Okay, New Guy. I’ll play along. For now.”
“Good. So, about that schedule…”
She gazed at him, a gleam in her eye. “I have yoga tomorrow morning.”
“Cancel it.”
“It’s yoga. What could possibly go wrong?”
He didn’t know, but he didn’t want to find out. If she went, he’d either have to stand in the room and observe like a creep, or he’d have to participate.
Happy baby pose? No. This was supposed to be his damn vacation.
“Nebraska,” he growled.
She crossed her arms. “Fine, no yoga. My movie opens, so I plan to go to the theater.”
“Oh, that’s a hell no. Too risky.”
If anything, she tapped her foot and dug in further. “That’s non-negotiable.”
He circled around the island and stopped just two feet from her. “Not without my team. There are too many variables. Hundreds of people. It’s about the worst thing we could do.”
She smiled. “That’s why I go in disguise.”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I’m not going there for that attention you think I’m so fond of. I go to see how the viewers react to my work. I need to know if I did my job.”
Admiration spiked inside him. He thought about the stars in Hollywood, and how most of them cared more about their payday than seeing the faces of viewers on opening day. “Okay, fine. So, we go in disguise. You get what you’re looking for and we duck out. Got it?”
She snapped her feet together and mock-saluted him. “Yes, sir.”
He laughed. “And don’t call me sir. I might start to like it.”
“Wow, New Guy, you have a sense of humor. Who woulda thunk it?” She grabbed his arm and pulled while glancing behind him.
He craned his neck and glanced behind him. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for the stick,” she said, patting his ass.
Not that he entirely minded, but… “What stick?”
“The one I was sure you had up your ass,” she said, straightening.
“Cute. Now, what else? Anything today? Because I want to do a search of the house, talk to security, and come up with a contingency plan.”
“The day is almost over. Tomorrow night after the movie, I’m meeting my brother and mother for dinner.”
Something about her plans seemed too easy. A telltale niggling reared its head, so he decided to test her. “So, no plans to duck out on me and show up at the oil spill?”
She pinched her lips together and glanced away.
Fuck. “Nebraska?”
“I won’t duck out,” she agreed.
“And we aren’t going to the oil spill,” he added.
She shook her head and started past him. “We’ll talk about it.”
He hooked his fingers around her bicep and used his other hand to turn her chin, forcing her to look at him. “We’re talking about it now, and it’s a no,” he said, the same authority he used in missions directed at her.
“It’s too important,” she said.
He bent his face to hers. “And it’s not your problem.”
She narrowed her eyes and a growl rose in her throat. “Those are native lands they’re destroying and if I don’t care, who will? The common people of the reservation aren’t heard. I am.”
He ran his knuckle down the smooth skin of her temple, her straight black strands tickling his fingers. She jumped at his touch, and then she leaned into it as if desperate for the intimate contact. “Yes, and now you’re hunted, so how is that working for you?”
Chapter 3
Nebraska paced her bedroom after her shower, the urge to break free pounding through her veins. She’d agreed to not just take off. Slyder was serious about this protection detail, having taken up the first three hours with meeting everyone and studying the layout of the house and grounds after they had come to their tentative agreement.
She didn’t have a huge staff, just seven people, and they were more there to take care of things while she was on location. She didn’t like the idea of leaving her house sitting empty, so she had a cleaning lady, a personal shopper, and two landscapers, who not only took care of her plants and yard, but kept the outside of the house in good repair. Jose, Mike, and Willy ran her gate.
She watched Slyder on the cameras, winning over her staff, laughing it up like they were old friends. No doubt, she now had to get past four people at any given time, with Slyder pulling her staff over to the dark side. She peeked at her phone—well, unless she adopted the habit of ducking out at 6AM every day. Right now, she had two people to get past, if she so decided.
It’s not like she wanted to go off for the day. Just a jog around her neighborhood. How risky could it be? She had jogged almost every morning she’d lived there, and the warm sun, light breeze, and fresh sea air called to her.
They called her hard.
Maybe she could get away with staying on her street?
She pulled on a pair of yoga pants and a black tank top. Bending to tie her sneakers she listened for Slyder, but only heard a deafening stillness.
Careful to not make a sound, she slipped out of her room and gently rolled her feet on the tile with measured steps toward the door. She deactivated the alarm with deft fingers, and flinched when it beeped with deactivation. Freezing in place she listened for Slyder again, sure he’d heard her, but again nothing.
Hell of a bodyguard he was. Maybe the Neanderthals should have gotten her a dog since the bodyguard seemed to be broken.
And why did a part of her hope he’d pop out? The last thing she needed, especially in her business, was a man. They hovered, they showed up on the set, they got jealous as all get-out, and she wanted nothing to do with it any of it. She had a hard enough time working around whoever had been threatening her without adding a possessive guy to the mix.
Of course, she’d take a reliable bed partner, as long as he understood that what they had was between the sheets and nothing else. Only, she hadn’t found a man who got her motor running any better than she could get her own going.
Sad, but true.
Well, until she’d laid eyes on Slyder, that is. There was something about the way he moved, the way his muscles flexed, one would swear he was showing off and tightening on purpose, if it wasn’t for the fluidity of it.
He prowled.
She’d never seen a man who prowled before; something about it climbed inside her and teased her inner sexual self, and next thing she knew she practically sauntered and shot heated smiles his way.
She had turned into the cliché ‘Like a bitch in heat’.
And she suspected he saw it. Oh, he didn’t say anything, but those knowing glances were louder than a bullhorn.
Just another reason she could use a good run. She needed to burn off some of the damn pheromones raging inside her.
She pulled open the door a couple of inches and turned to watch the foyer as she slipped out. Cringing, she slowly closed it, careful to turn the handle so the latch wouldn’t click.
With the door closed she backed up two steps, her shoulders hunched up to her ears. Lifting her foot to take another step back, she stepped on a black boot.
The air whooshed from her lungs on a scream. She raised her arm and whipped around, ready to hit, scratch, claw, whatever she needed to do, but Slyder snatched her wrist out of the air before she could so much as wind up to swing.
“Going somewhere?” he asked with a smirk.
“Dammit, New Guy. You scared the hell out of me. What the fucknuts do you think you’re doing, sneaking up on me like that?”
“Me? We had an agreement, and not twenty-four hours later you
’re back to doing whatever you want, with no consideration for your safety, and not honoring your word.”
She’d spent her life being outspoken and rubbing people the wrong way. People either loved her or hated her, and she could live with that. Slyder standing before her, questioning her honor, though, that hurt.
He let go of her wrist and her hand fell to her side. She glanced away from him, heat climbing into her cheeks. She kicked the toe of her sneaker against the paver bricks. “I wasn’t going far.”
“But you were going. You have to be the most stubborn, childish—”
“Hey,” she bit out.
“Mouthy, pain in the ass woman I’ve ever met.”
“But—”
“And clearly, like any high-energy dog, you could use a good run.” His mouth twitched.
Oh, she wanted to take the bait. From moment one, the first time he spoke to her he had been prodding her. He was way too good at it to be an only child. She’d bet he was an older brother of a younger sister.
Well, she was a little sister and, as much as it hurt, she had learned to not give her brothers the satisfaction of a reaction.
“You know, New Guy, I’d guess you to be thirty-four, maybe thirty-five, so it’s probably a good idea for someone to run you, too. Heart health and all, since middle age is right around the corner,” she said with a big smile.
The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes narrowed on her. “I know what you’re doing.”
She shrugged. “And now we understand each other. So, ready for that run, New Guy?”
“Yeah,” he said, and grunted. They headed down the drive. “We stay on this street, though.”
She resisted growling low in her throat at his attempt to dictate how things were going to go. “It’s hard to run on just one small street,” she said.
He stopped, and crossed his arms. Impressive arms. Tan, hard, and capable.
She did not lick her lips.
She wanted to, though.
“I don’t care if you have to run in circles to burn off that smart-assery. The street or no deal.”
She squinted up at him. “Fine. Since it’s so important for you to be the boss, I’ll let you be in control. This time.”
“Magnanimous of you,” he murmured.
She took off down the drive and waved to Willy in the gatehouse. “Good morning, Mr. Willy,” she called.
“Good morning to you, Miss Nebraska, and Mr. Slyder,” the charming, surrogate grandfather said with a smile and nod. “You be careful out there,” he called as they ducked out the gate.
“I will. Please tell Mavis that I loved the brownies. She needs to drop by one of these days and have a pool day with me.”
“She’d love that. I’ll tell her,” he said as he waved.
She set the pace—after all, this was her deal—starting at a brisk walk to get her muscles warm and her blood flowing. She loved putting her body to work, head to toe, the clarity of it. It was part of the reason she loved making action flicks. She tried to do all her own stunts; she loved challenging her body, pushing it to its limits.
“Is running your thing?” Slyder asked from next to her as he kept up with easy, long strides. Given he was six inches or so taller, what was brisk to her was likely a normal stride to him.
“Running, hiking, swimming, basically anything physical is my thing,” she said, slightly breathless. “I just don’t like going to the gym. It’s too routine. I’m bored to tears inside of five minutes. And then there’s all the guys there, taking pics while flexing their muscles. Watching themselves in the mirrors and their exaggerated grunting. I’ll take a pass on that garbage.”
“So, I can’t charm you by standing under your bedroom window, flexing my muscles for you. Shit, and I didn’t have a plan B.”
She laughed at his joke. “Very funny, New Guy, but we both know I’m probably the farthest thing from what you’re looking for in a woman.”
“Really? Why do you say that?”
“Well, you’re the all-American guy, with hair long enough to be on the edge of unacceptable. Your inner bad boy making his presence known. Baby-blue eyes. The muscles, the blue jeans, the job as a SEAL. Mom and Dad would probably have a coronary if you brought home someone like me. I’m not the right color.”
She didn’t know where the words came from. She had never been insecure about her heritage a day in her life.
Right?
Back in the day, her mother, the regal Monique Claire, was the kind of woman she had just described. And her older brother was the same. Both blond-haired and blue-eyed. They both fit in in California. She and Jacy didn’t.
She knew that at the tender age of four, when her mom brought them to California to decide if they wanted to live with her. She didn’t remember much about the theme parks, zoos, and ice cream shops, but she remembered being on a street of kids who carried cell phones from the age of eight, wearing designer outfits, and sunglasses that cost more per pair than she spent on groceries in a week.
And they were we all fair-skinned, light-haired, glamourous children who looked at her like she was the child of the hired help.
When she started in Hollywood, she’d had to battle to get lead roles. Everyone wanted to cast her in native historicals. Finally, she edged her way into action movies, but still, as a member of a team, not as the lead. However, it was just enough to prove she had what it took without using her mother’s fame to get there.
“Hold up,” Slyder said, curling his long fingers around her arm and pulling her to a stop.
“What?” she said, heaving a sigh. Maybe if she appeared bored by the direction of the conversation, he would leave it alone.
“Where the hell do you get off making that assumption about my family? Not every blond-haired, blue-eyed person is a stuck-up prick. I was raised on a farm. I got up at 4AM and worked before going to school. When I came home, I worked some more. I smelled like shit more times than I can count, and there are days, despite leaving home over a decade ago, I swear I can still smell it.”
“I—”
“My parents don’t see color. They see hard work, determination, and caring. The same things I see. I may not know a whole lot about you, but with your dedication to your job, the way you treat Willy, and likely the rest of your staff, and the way you jump in to try to help others who can’t help themselves, my parents would see you.”
She sucked in a breath, his words shooting straight into her heart and settling there.
He cupped her cheek, his thumb grazing over her chin, sending chills dancing over her skin. “I see you.”
In that moment, sensations overwhelmed her. Her heart raced, pounding in her chest; her skin tingled with awareness of him, the way the air moved around them.
Through them.
She tilted her head into his palm and closed her eyes, absorbing the warmth from his powerful hand seeping into her skin. She hadn’t had this. She hadn’t had a man take a moment to reach for her without an ulterior motive.
Until now.
She opened her eyes and found him studying her, his gaze roaming over her features, his other hand brushing away the strands of hair that fell from her ponytail and tucking them behind her ear.
His tongue darted out, gliding over his bottom lip, and she wished it tasted her.
“You’re the worst kind of trouble,” he murmured, staring at her mouth.
“I’ll have you know—”
“Nebraska. Shut up.”
No sooner did he finish the words than his lips took hers in a bruising kiss.
Her mouth opened with the pressure and his breath slid over her tongue, making her crave more of him. He tasted of strong coffee, just what she’d expect from a man who worked as hard as he had and, from what she’d overheard from the Neanderthals, still did.
She greedily rose onto her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, seeking more. More of his ragged breathing. More of his taste. More of the rough way he nibbled at he
r mouth and sucked her tongue between his teeth.
She heard a wanton whimper, the kind in movies, the kind she’d never managed to get quite right, and realized it was indeed coming from her.
The way he wrapped his arms around her, picking her right up off the sidewalk as he kissed her, stealing her breath, the way he moaned into her mouth before diving deeper, and the harsh breathing—they were all the ingredients needed to draw the sound out of her. The sound of thrill and release.
The surrender to a man to take them both where they wanted to go.
She knew he acted on true feelings for sure, because no one in his position crossed lines like this unless they couldn’t help themselves. Because getting involved took away his edge. This attraction building and breaking free finally brought her fully alive, putting her in more danger at the same time.
And for once, for different reasons than ever before, she didn’t care.
She’d put her safety on the line to taste him again. To feel his heart hammering in his chest, against her own.
Her nipples puckered against her sports bra, begging to be touched. Liquid heat flooded her, leaving a heaviness settling in her core, making her squirm against him in need.
She pulled her mouth free, her lungs heaving, and touched her fingers to his lips, studying the shape, the feel, the way they teased the tips of her fingers.
His eyes shot open, focusing on something over her shoulder.
She pulled her hand back, confusion gripping her. “What—”
“Down!” he shouted.
Next thing she knew, he dug his fingers into her waist and threw her into the shrubs lining the sidewalk. The air whooshed out of her lungs. Branches dug into her skin and scraped her neck. Her hip wedged between branches with so much force, she knew for sure she’d have bruises.
Tires screeching out of control split the air, the sound screaming toward her, the next minute muffled by Slyder’s body as he jumped on top of her.
Shielding her.
He cupped her head and curled around her, his labored breathing in her ear.
She flinched, and waited for the car to careen into them. Would it hurt him? Would it kill him instantly as he protected her?
