Guarding Her Heart (Renegade Love Bodyguard Novel Book 1)

by Jade Webb

  She shakes her head at my offer. “Thanks, but I think I’m coming down with a cold and don’t want to share it.”

  I look her over, noticing her puffy eyes and red nose. “Yeah, you don’t look so good, Mel.”

  She dabs her nose with a tissue. “I just need to rest. I mean, who else in the world gets a cold in June? Luckily we don’t have a show tonight so I can down some Nyquil and pass out.” She pushes herself off the couch, removing her party hat and affixing it to the top of my head. She offers me a mischievous smile before continuing. “Also, wear something nice tonight. Daphni booked you two dinner at Fiola. You’re meeting your sister at eight forty-five sharp in the lobby.”

  I roll my eyes and stuff another oversized forkful of pancake into my mouth. “Oh, Daphni booked it, did she?” We both know Melissa does all the heavy lifting and Daphni shows up looking pretty, taking all the credit.

  Melissa playfully shoves me. “Yes, she did. So go out and buy yourself a cute dress for tonight, birthday girl.”

  I nod in agreement and Melissa waves goodbye before stepping out the door. I continue to eat my pancakes until I feel a dull ache in my stomach, signaling defeat. Unlike Daphni, who enjoys month-long birthday celebrations, I had never really enjoyed all the fanfare that came with birthdays. I still remember with bitterness how my mother had invited People magazine to cover my tenth birthday party: an elaborate princess-themed affair where she had insisted I have three costume changes complete with photo shoots for each look. I never even got a chance to eat the damn cake.

  After that fiasco, I had insisted that my birthday celebrations be of my choosing. From then on, all my birthdays had included dinner with Daphni and Lawrence, followed by the three of us eating cake in bed and watching cheesy rom-coms. As Lawrence had gone off to boarding school, then college, and Daphni left for tour, I had spent more and more of my birthdays alone. Instead of dinners out with my siblings, it had become Chinese takeout in my apartment. The whole binging on cake in bed, however, was a tradition that was still going strong. A perk of being solo on my birthday was more cake for me.

  The prospect of spending an uninterrupted evening with my sister, however, is enough to motivate me to go shopping. Since her apology, we haven’t really been able to spend too much one-on-one time together, and I was looking forward to bringing back some of our old birthday traditions.

  I shower and dress and a short hour later, I’m walking the cobblestone streets of Georgetown, smoothie in hand, on a mission to find the perfect dress for tonight. It’s one of those gross, humid days, and the oppressive heat has me ducking into a different store every fifteen minutes to take full advantage of their air conditioning.

  I make my way toward my favorite boutique, Promises, and rush inside, grateful again for the relief of the air conditioning. I mindlessly rifle through the racks, waiting to fall in love with a dress, but disappointed to find that every dress has one ruffle or rhinestone too many. The last three stores were all similar disappointments, and I am beginning to lose hope when I spot a mannequin dressed in a gold and white dress out of the corner of my eye. The dress is stunning: a strapless bodice, encased in gold sequins, stopping right at the waist before transitioning into flowing white gossamer. Ending right at the knee, the dress feels like the perfect marriage of elegant and sexpot.

  “Gorgeous, right?” A chipper voice at my right interrupts my gawking. I tear my eyes away and look at the perky blonde sales assistant standing in front of me.

  “It’s beautiful,” I agree.

  “Well, try it on!”

  I shake my head. “No, I couldn’t. No way I can pull that off.”

  She gently pushes me in the direction of the changing rooms at the back of the store. “Nonsense. Go to the changing rooms and I’ll bring you the dress.” She surveys me quickly, her blue eyes trailing up and down my body. “Size six, right?”

  I nod, impressed by her quick assessment, and walk over to the line of small booths, cordoned off by rich, velvet curtains. I slide into the one on the edge, pull the curtain closed, kick off my sneakers, and drop my bag on the floor. I take one last slurp of my smoothie before depositing it by my bag. The sales attendant arrives a moment later, handing me the dress through the curtain. I take another moment to admire it, fingering the delicate sequins and holding it against me. Casting my reflection a wary smile, I convince myself to at least try it on. I slide out of my shorts and top and slip out of my lace bralette. I gingerly step into the dress, momentarily panicking as it coasts over what my mother had not-so-affectionately called my “birthing hips.” I am relieved when the dress, with a little shimmying, slips over my hips, and I arch my arm over my back to zip it closed. I turn to look in the mirror and take a deep swallow of breath. This dress might be one of the most gorgeous items of clothing I have ever worn. It hugs every curve, and the sequined bodice generously accentuates and highlights my cleavage. It’s subtly sexy, and I’m kind of impressed with how good I look. It’s a welcome change from my usual boring uniform of jeans and whatever top I pulled out of the laundry basket.

  I pull out the tag and momentarily balk at the $250 price tag. Even though my credit card bills are still paid for by my father, I have been on a strict, self-imposed budget for the past three years. I had gone through a bit of a reality check after my freshman year, when I had first lived on my own and realized the lifestyle I had grown up with was going to seriously exceed the salary I would be bringing in as a defense attorney. Since that unpleasant reality check, I had been on a conscious path to living within the average college student’s budget. This dress cost almost my entire monthly food budget. But then again, $250 was pocket change to my family, and although that wasn’t reason enough to drop that much for a party dress, it was my birthday. And more importantly, it was going to be the first time in a while my sister and I had done any kind of sisterly bonding, and wasn’t that worth celebrating with a kick-ass, amazing dress?

  Sadly that was all it took to convince myself to bring the dress home. I unzip myself out of the dress and stumble back into my clothes. Before I can change my mind, I hand the dress back to the eager sales attendant waiting for me.

  “I’ll take it.”

  15

  Gabby

  It’s just after eight thirty in the evening when I finally finish blowing out and running a brush through my thick hair. Usually I am far too unmotivated to actually blow-dry my hair, preferring to let it air dry rather than undergoing an upper-arm workout for the thirty minutes it takes to fully dry my mess of hair. Tonight, however, I need to give my birthday dress the proper respect it deserves and make sure the rest of me looks equally as good.

  Satisfied that my hair will survive the humidity outside thanks to all the product I loaded in it, I slip on the dress and step into a pair of gold heels the sales attendant had insisted I “needed” to go along with the dress. After convincing me on the shoes, she had insisted that I pop into Sephora and ask for a “bronze-gold foiled eye and a nude lip.” As she cashed me out, she even wrote on the back of the receipt detailed instructions for the makeup artist at Sephora on what to give me. When I had finally made my way into Sephora, sweaty and looking like a lost puppy, they had taken pity on me and loaded me up an entire basket with detailed instructions on how to use each product. About five YouTube tutorials and an hour later and I am pretty impressed with the eye makeup I’m currently rocking. True, it took me like seven times to get it right, but for an amateur, I’m feeling pretty proud. And, another look in the mirror confirms for me that I actually do look freaking amazing.

  Even more importantly, I feel amazing. I am excited for Daphni to see me. Like my mother, she has artfully mastered the “perpetually disappointed” look she gives when she sees me in my jeans and T-shirts. They thought I was “wasting my potential,” but I thought they were wasting theirs by spending hours primping each day. But looking in the mirror now, I can’t help but wonder if maybe there was a happy medium. Perhaps it wouldn’t be th
e worst thing in the world to maybe put a bit more effort into how I look. I had always so strongly protested against wanting to appear superficial and been so shy in the spotlight that I had purposefully gone out of my way to draw attention away from myself. But in all of that work, I had also lost a lot of my confidence. Looking back now, and feeling as amazing as I feel now, I can’t help but wonder, had it all been worth it?

  I decide to leave all the heavy, philosophical nonsense for later. I have a date with my sister and I need to finish getting ready. Truthfully, I am just so excited to have a whole night with her. Daphni always had a way of bringing me out of my shell, and with all the months of studying, internships, and late nights writing papers, I’m actually really excited for a proper night out. Hell, I could even be convinced to go dancing.

  I hadn’t seen Daphni all afternoon, but had just assumed she had been nursing another hangover from last night. Still, knowing my sister, she would rally and still look absolutely incredible tonight. I wasn’t worried that she would bail: Melissa would absolutely kick her ass if she were even ten minutes late.

  I give myself one last look in the mirror before grabbing my gold clutch—another item the sales attendant had insisted I “needed”—and heading down to wait for her in the lobby.

  Once downstairs, I grab a seat across the elevator doors. It’s just five minutes after eight thirty and knowing my sister, she will be making a fashionably late entrance. I keep crossing and uncrossing my legs as I deftly avoid all the curious stares from everyone walking by. I am not used to being the center of attention, and it unnerves me. I’m almost eager for Daphni to arrive now so she can detract all this attention and give me back the shadows I like to lurk comfortably in.

  After another ten minutes, I shoot off a quick text to Lawrence to check in. In true fashion, he promptly responds and gives me an update on how my adorable niece is doing. That kills another minute.

  At eight forty, I start getting nervous. I make a snap decision to just go to Daphni’s room and check on the delay. Honestly, I had wanted her to first see me in the lobby so she could appreciate my dramatic makeover, but now I’m starting to get an anxious knot in the pit of my stomach. Still, I know there is no way she will ditch me. Not on my birthday.

  Once outside her room, I press my ear against the door and knock loudly when I don’t hear anything. After a few loud knocks, I press my ear against the door again. Still nothing.

  The nervous pit in my stomach keeps getting deeper. There was no way I missed her on the elevator ride up, and Daphni is never in any shoe under four inches, so there is no way she took the stairs down eighteen flights. Once outside her room, I bang my fist on the door even harder and shout her name into the thick oak.

  “Gabby!”

  I whip my head around at the sound of my name to see Liam standing behind me in the doorframe of his hotel suite, dressed in flannel pajama bottoms and a dark T-shirt. His dark hair is tousled, which miraculously only manages to make his whole “just getting out of bed” look a thousand times sexier. God, I hate how much I love looking at him.

  “Oh, Liam,” I say, a bit embarrassed that he caught me physically assaulting this door. “Hi. I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

  He very clearly wipes the sleep out of his eyes as he smiles and shakes his head. “I was taking a little nap. Your sister can run laps around me so I try to sneak in some sleep when I can.” He stretches his arms over his head, giving me the tiniest glimpse of his toned stomach, and I force myself to drag my eyes away and focus on the blinking light of the smoke detector up ahead for a few seconds before allowing myself to bring my eyes back to his.

  “So, are you looking for your sister?” he asks, an amused smile on his lips as he watches me.

  “Yeah, I tried knocking a few times,” I say, gesturing to the door as if he didn’t just see me ten seconds ago knocking on it. “She must be in the bathroom or something.”

  Shaking his head slowly, Liam knits his brow in confusion. “Gabby, she went with Drizzle to Richmond. He had some performance at a club. They left a few hours ago.”

  The gnawing feeling of dread I had been pushing away rushes toward me. Though I’m not an idiot and know this is Daphni’s typical MO, I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe she would pull her disappearing act on me and on my freaking birthday. I let out a woosh of air and lean back against the pink floral wallpapered wall.

  Though all I want is to melt into the wall behind me and wallow in tears and self-pity, I instead paste on a smile and do my best to hide my disappointment. I blink back my tears and take in a deep breath. I can see Liam still watching me, a mix of confusion and concern on his face. Though I hate that he obviously feels worried about me, I admire the way he wears his emotions on his face. He doesn’t feel the need to hide how he feels. And even though it’s a stupid thing to be jealous of, I still can’t help but wish I was brave enough to do the same one day.

  But today is not that day. So I decide to pull myself together and do my best to offer a nonchalant shrug. “I thought we had plans for tonight,” I explain.

  “John went with them tonight,” Liam explains, and gestures back to his room. “Do you want me to call him for you? So you can speak with Daphni?”

  “Oh, no. That’s actually the last thing I want.” I can’t help but let out a frustrated moan. “You know, I should have known she would do something like this. I finally get the chance to have a night out with my sister, go to some fancy restaurant and feel special for just one night, and she runs off to watch her boyfriend scream into a mic about his daddy issues.”

  I push off the wall so I can kick off my heels. I know I’m ranting, but I can’t stop myself. “You would think she could manage to not pull this bullshit just one day of the year. But no, she even has to pull her magical disappearing act on my birthday. You know, I shouldn’t really be that surprised,” I say as I unstrap the buckle on my heel. “She did this before, a couple of years ago. I had decided to fly out to Ibiza to meet up with her. “It will be fun,” she had said. And then I show up and she had already flown out. Like who…”

  The feel of Liam’s fingers gently wrapping my arm as I’m bent down, unfastening my heels and full-on ranting, finally silences me. I tilt my head up to look at him, and the intense look on his face knocks me off my axis and I slip back. His arm tightens as he steadies me and helps me back up to a standing position.

  “Gabby, it’s your birthday today?”

  I nod slowly, my breath faltering at the intensity of his steel-grey eyes piercing into mine. Damn. Up close, his eyes are even more noticeable and I can see how his iris fades from a dark grey around the outer edges into a soft, almost light blue hue around his pupil. They’re so clear and when they’re focused on me, it feels like gravity is momentarily suspended and all I can see is his eyes staring back at me. I could happily drown in his eyes.

  “Give me five minutes,” he says, interrupting the soliloquy I had been crafting in my head dedicated to his deep pools of gorgeous steel-grey and blue. His fingers abruptly leave my arm and I feel a twinge of surprise at how the sudden loss of his touch affects me. I watch, confused, as he ducks back into his room, the door closing behind him.

  I awkwardly wait, dangling my heels in my hand. Liam has a habit of completely confounding me and tonight is no different. My stomach starts to rumble, and I consider the delivery options within a five-mile radius. I am in a fierce debate between shrimp Pad Thai and Korean tacos when Liam’s door opens and he steps out into the hallway.

  In the five minutes it had taken me to sort through dinner options, he had somehow managed to trade his flannels for black dress pants, and his T-shirt for his trademark fitted black button-down. He had even added a skinny black tie and had styled his hair. It was both incredibly frustrating and satisfying to know that he could transform into a sexy, Scottish Abercrombie model in less than ten minutes.

  “Uh, Liam?” I ask as, a bit confused, as my eyes greedily rake over him, enjoy
ing this new look on him.

  He doesn’t respond and instead simply reaches for my hand, tucking it into the crook of his arm, and guides me back toward the elevator.

  As I see where he is directing me, I stop my steps. “Liam, you really don’t have to…”

  “Ah, dinnae fash yersel.”

  I can’t help but quirk a confused smile. “Translation?”

  “Don’t fuss yourself. Let this just be a fun night out to celebrate your birthday.”

  “You really don’t have to do this. It’s your night off, and I know I woke you up. And truthfully, I’m okay with some takeout and I am pretty sure I spotted some Twinkies in my mini-fridge, so I am good to go.”

  “Gabby, put on your damn shoes and let’s go.”

  I feel my mouth drop open and a satisfied smile inches over Liam’s face. Before I can utter a sound, he raises his finger to silence me and points at the watch on his wrist.

  I direct my best glare at him, which only seems to amuse him more, before I drop my shoes to the ground and slip into them, kneeling down to tie the dainty buckle on the side. Back in a standing position, Liam places his hand on the small of my back and gently pushes me toward the elevator.

  As the elevator doors close, I move to step out of his touch. I doubt he notices, but every time I am near him, it feels like I’m swallowed into his vortex. It’s both completely overwhelming and intoxicating.

  “So where are is your reservation for?” he asks, breaking the silence.

  “This place called Fiola. But the reservations were for nine, so we missed it already.”

  “Nay, we’ll be fine. It’s just a suggested time.”

  Before I can argue his inane logic, the doors open and we step out onto the marble lobby floors. Again, Liam rests his hand on my lower back as we make our way through the lobby. Though he is barely touching me, it’s as if my entire body is humming from the anticipation of what his actual touch would feel like.