The elevator doors slid open to mayhem. At least that’s what she thought of the crowds, noise, and lights that comprised the hotel’s ground floor casino. Maybe it was the romance convention. Or maybe it was just Vegas. She missed the solitude of the mountains, but now when she pictured being alone there, the image was inexplicably entwined with one of Jax. She suddenly understood why he wanted to show her the desert, because she wanted nothing more than to see the mountains in his eyes.
He led her easily through the melee, so unfazed by it that she had no choice but to believe it was yet another shot of normalcy that, anywhere else, would be anything but.
“How are we getting to the desert?”
“You’re already there. But to answer your question, I have a big, black, environmentally disastrous SUV.” On cue, they reached the valet. Jax handed over his ticket, and moments later they were met at the door by a jacked up tank. Not really a tank, but she doubted anything got in its way.
He waved off the valet with cash and helped her up himself. “Kind of ironic to take one of those out to enjoy nature, isn’t it?”
“On one hand, yes.”
She ran her fingertips over the soft leather seats and inhaled deeply. “What’s the other hand?”
He eased shut her door and didn’t answer until he had jumped into the driver’s seat. With a firm pat to the dash, he said, “The desert is wide open. You can go pretty much anywhere, and it’s better to do it in four wheel drive.”
She gawked, and not just because the man was unfairly sexy. He exuded power, navigating with ease onto the busy street. She could probably stare at him all day. In fact, she’d love to get stuck with him, but in the desert? “Mud can’t possibly be an issue.”
“Nah, but rocks can be.” He glanced at the rearview while she admired his profile. “When it does rain,” he said, “flash flooding is a thing. Which means swales become one, only they’re more like concrete drainage ditches by the time the sun bakes them. You hit one good enough, you’ll leave your axle behind in it.”
Oh. “So is that what you do? Guard bodies by night and wander the desert by day?”
He shot her a sideways grin. “I guess. Never thought of it that way, but close enough.”
She leaned back into the leather and watched the city ease past, surprised to find that a sense of normalcy prevailed away from the strip. Vegas was very much an oasis in the desert—the view from an airplane left no doubt as to the emptiness of the surrounding landscape—but as they left the city, the rearview added a new dimension to the storied location. As wide as the interstate sprawled and as tall as the hotel casinos pierced the air above, the vast desert so quickly consumed the skyline that she wondered if she hadn’t imagined the whole place.
But she hadn’t imagined Jax. Couldn’t have conjured him if she’d tried. It was hard to believe that a mere twenty-four hours before she’d been in the air, high above that very road. Anticipating all the wrong things. If someone had told her that a day later she’d be riding shotgun with a tattooed hottie doing eighty through the desert, she’d have laughed. Or fled.
She certainly would never imagined she’d feel so free.
She caught her reflection in the side mirror and barely recognized herself. Smiling. Sun kissed. Hair all over the place, probably from the breeze that struck while she was hopping up into the truck. Laughing, she pulled it back, then felt the heat of his gaze.
“You’re so damn pretty,” he said. He paused, looking her way. Hesitant, like he wanted to say something else, but in the end he turned back toward the road.
But she didn’t. She watched him, knowing he could feel her eyes on him, but did it anyway. She itched to touch the stubble that darkened his jaw. Already knew what it felt like against her skin. She couldn’t forget the softness of his lips or the tenderness with which he explored her mouth. Something deeper had simmered, flaring in his eyes, but he remained so gentle. If it was a strategy, she had to give him credit. Already he had her longing for the crush, for the explosion of demand and utter possession of her body he promised. The tease wasn’t enough. Every good girl thing she thought she’d known about herself had been obliterated by this man, and the desire to get closer to him had her vibrating on a frequency that had nothing to do with the hum of the tires on the pavement.
The miles flew, the distant shift of the mountains against the horizon the only real indication of the passing distance. She hadn’t realized a world this vast existed outside of her own, that a relatively bare terrain could seem so wild. Or that she could harbor a need so fierce. She ached for him, the desire to be touched coiled so tight she couldn’t imagine the force of the explosion.
In no time, they were off the interstate and entering the park. He greeted the guy at the entrance station by name, then rolled through.
“You didn’t have to pay?”
“Annual pass. I was here two days ago showing it to the same man. They know me.”
She didn’t respond. She was too blown away by the scenery to form words. Red rock and desert scrub stretched as far as the eye could see. And not just any rock, but endless thin layers of sediment that swirled and looped, somehow at once meticulous and wild.
“Wow.” She had never imagined nature could be more stunning than the jagged peaks of the Rockies, but then again, she could never have fathomed anything like this.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked softly.
“I almost feel like an intruder.”
“You up for a walk? The park is open until sunset.”
Sunset. Here. With him. She shivered, though it had nothing to do with the temperature. She’d forgotten her jacket, but the air was still warm. She wished she at least had a bra, but she’d hand-washed her one only to find her luggage suspiciously devoid of another. Not such a big deal for hanging out at her hotel or for the duo of dresses she’d brought for the two formal events she planned to attend, but another issue entirely when she realized she’d be out. With him. She was far from cold—probably too long adapted to what she’d left behind eight thousand feet up in the snowy Rockies—but she knew temperatures fell quickly in the desert. January could be frigid after sunset.
She glanced at Jax and decided there’s be no absence of heat in the desert that night.
“I’d love to walk with you,” she said.
He steered into the next parking area. His was the only vehicle there. The world was theirs alone, and something about that felt so incredibly right.
She jumped down before he could help her, and with the chirp of his door lock, they left civilization behind. In some ways, she felt like they’d left earth entirely. The rocks in the park took every alien shape imaginable, from the delicately streaked dunes to arches and columns and beehive formations. The path they walked meandered between rocks, around bends, each turn more breathtaking than the one before it.
“Wait until the sun starts to set,” he said. “You’ll see how the park gets its name.”
“You mean I don’t already?”
“Not even close.”
They walked a bit longer, eventually stopping at an outcropping with a view of the sun. Already, it colored the sky.
He gestured toward the view, but he needn’t. She was already transfixed.
“What you said last night about the mountains made me think of how I feel here,” he said. A breeze lifted a strand of her hair. He brushed back the errant piece. Smiled. “Just like you said, then and now. You can’t see it and not let it be a part of you.”
She swallowed the lump that threatened her throat. She hadn’t imagined anyone else could understand what she felt, and she wouldn’t have thought it possible that the person who did could have been found in a place that was the exact opposite of hers—a place that could never be her home. They couldn’t have been more different, she and Jax, but the connection she felt to him suggested otherwise.
So did the look in his eyes. They captured her, held her for a long moment before he spoke. “What are you
running from out there, gorgeous?”
“Not running. Just looking.” That old familiar ache returned, and she wondered, not for the first time, why she bothered with the search. Especially now. She’d always been so careful. Had waited to give herself to the man she was going to marry. In retrospect, she could see the relationship wouldn’t have worked, and not just because of the horrible way it ended. Maybe she tried too hard to make it something it wasn’t. In the end it hadn’t mattered, but the failure had left her confused. She thrived on caution. Planning. Every piece had been carefully arranged, only to have all those years of meticulous construction end in a broken heap. It probably wasn’t the best way to shape a partnership, but on paper it should have worked. If she couldn’t trust a man after three years, how long was she supposed to wait for things to fall apart before she believed they wouldn’t?
She looked to Jax. He studied her with such intent, as if her response meant something. How was it possible his eyes seemed to hold so much promise? And what did it matter if they did? Anything they held wasn’t for her.
Couldn’t be.
She thought about his question. Telling him the truth back to the beginning—that her parents had checked out a long time ago, leaving a little girl to be raised by a string of nannies—had lonely and desperate written all over it. She hadn’t any siblings. For as long as she could remember, it had just been her. That a family had been all she wanted, and she’d wasted too many years wanting it with the wrong person. Now her relationship was over, her parents were off playing tourists in Outer Mongolia or somewhere equally absurd, and she’d been left utterly alone.
Inexplicably, she didn’t feel that way now. But she wouldn’t admit that, either.
“Have you found it yet?” he asked. “That thing you’re looking for?”
She whittled back the hurt and confusion. The pain of so many lost years. It wasn’t anything on which she wanted to focus. Not with him filling the void in a way she hadn’t thought anyone could—especially not a man who had never been part of her plan. “Sometimes I think it’s less about what I’ve lost and more about what I’m finding along the way.”
He looked away. His throat bobbed, and she knew he got it.
“What about you?” she asked.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I just get so damn tired of looking.”
She reached for his hand, and his fingers immediately curled through hers. “Maybe sometimes you should stop looking,” she said. “Maybe, for a little while, just be.”
He stroked her hand with his thumb. “That’s how it feels. Right now, with you.”
They stood there for a long while after that, watching the sun crowd the western sky. Every shifting ray of light seemed to bring out a new nuance. Another burst of color.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“Risking life and limb and Dateline infamy to share this with me.”
She laughed.
He didn’t.
Instead he leaned down, sparking a firestorm in her that put the scenery to shame. But the anticipation had nothing on the moment he touched his lips to hers, so gently she wasn’t sure she felt it. Only that she wanted more.
Visceral anticipation blasted into need and obliterated restraint. She fisted his shirt for the second time that day and dragged him closer. He responded instantly, and the desire he sparked inside her exploded. He devoured her. Flames raged, making her wonder how he could possibly possess her so thoroughly after such a short time. But she’d worry about that later. Right now she had him, his warm, soft mouth owning hers. He held her like he revered her. Treasured her, like she might shatter at any moment. She probably would.
In his arms, the outcome could be nothing less.
When they broke free, they were both breathless. Both hesitant for the distance. She could see conflict stirring up clouds in those crystal blue eyes. Feel the lingering need in the kisses he pressed to the side of her mouth. Knew his desire to stay close by the way his fingers tangled with her hair.
“I don’t get you, Colorado.” He cupped her head, stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. Claimed her mouth, tugging at her lip with his own. “I don’t get you, but I want to. I want you more than anything I’ve wanted in a long time.”
She forced a laugh, probably to hide the fact that she was panting after his kiss. Actually panting. His intensity overwhelmed her. Hers terrified her. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“At the risk of sounding like I’m feeding you a line, only you. And that scares the hell out of me.”
Him, afraid? It didn’t seem possible. “I can’t imagine you being afraid of anything. I mean, you jump in front of bullets for a living.” The thought bothered her more than she’d like to admit. It had to be so hard to care about someone whose life was on the line every day.
“For the record,” he said softly, “that hasn’t actually happened. It’s more of a worst case scenario. I’m trained for it, but for the most part these celebrities come to town with an entourage of their own. People they trust. I’m back up, primarily to keep the fans away.”
“Like me.”
He broke into a grin. “Yeah, like you.”
“But you’d still risk your life.”
He shrugged and released the tangle of her hair. When he spoke, he addressed the sunset instead of looking at her. “It’s the job. Plenty of people risk more every day of their lives. I work a couple days a week and get to hang out in one of the most kick-ass cities in the world the rest. Pretty hard to feel sorry for myself.”
She couldn’t argue with him, but the undercurrent of his words tore at her. There was something more there. Something that reminded her she didn’t know this man.
But she wanted to.
“How did you end up there?”
“In Vegas?” When she nodded, he continued. “When I was a teenager, my parents and I had a…falling out. They decided they were done with me, so I moved in with a friend of mine and his family.”
Her attention jerked to his face. She half expected he was joking, the coincidence of abandonment too much, but the pain on his face was real. “Was that when your sister…?”
“Yeah, that was it. My friend’s family was nice. Warm people. Good people. But I never got past feeling like I’d intruded, and my buddy was like most kids in that he couldn’t wait to get out of there. We had our own reasons, but we were both ready to run. When we graduated we went straight to Las Vegas. Thought we’d have the party of our lives, but we got shut down.” He shook his head, a sardonic grin tracing his lips. “Turns out you have to be twenty-one to have any kind of fun there, at least on the strip.”
“I suppose getting someone to buy you a twelve pack at a gas station isn’t exactly Vegas.”
“Not even close,” he said with a laugh. “But I fell for the city anyway. Never left. I had enough in savings to get an apartment. Found a job, eventually bought a house.”
“How’d you get into guarding bodies?”
“Right place, right time. Didn’t take me long to figure out I didn’t like being drunk or throwing money into the abyss on gaming, but I love the atmosphere. It’s just this batshit crazy place. No one cares who you are or where you’re from. You arrive, you’re in.”
“The party of a lifetime,” she murmured.
He nodded. “Every day of the week. Anyway, one of the hotel security guys didn’t show up for work one night and they had a big profile client coming in. They knew me. I was there. I agreed to stand in, and they kept me on.”
“Just like that?”
“Don’t be impressed. It’s one step to the left of being rent-a-cop. I don’t even carry, although I can lay a guy out with my bare hands in two seconds flat if he wants it bad enough. How’d you get to be a ski instructor?”
She blinked, still stuck on his oh-so-casual incapacitate a man with my bare hands statement. He fascinated her. She felt like she was on some kind of out of control roller coaster, every little t
hing she learned about him an increase in speed in the face of another breakneck turn. The crash at the end was inevitable, but completely worth the ride.
It had to be.
He was watching her, an expectant look on his face.
He’d asked her a question. Yeah, that. Memory lane wasn’t her favorite place, but somehow he made it easier to go there again.
“I grew up in Colorado,” she said. “I’ve always loved the mountains, mostly from a distance at first. I’d watch for hours through my bedroom window just to see the changing light paint the snow.” She laughed quietly. A little bitter, even to her own ears. “It was so much better than TV. My friends thought I was nuts. Anyway, there was this one peak in particular that always fascinated me. I don’t know if it was the shape of the rock or the way the snow or the light touched it, but I was obsessed. I’d stare at it and think one day I’d get the summit, and then I’d be free of everything that bogged me down. Kind of silly, I guess.”
“But you made it, didn’t you?” His voice was full of reverence. Respect.
“I did. Felt like the top of the world, even though it wasn’t even the highest peak around.”
“Was it what you expected?”
“Yeah, as much as anyone can expect that kind of thing. Problem was, eventually I had to come down. I just never got tired of the summit. Never stopped wanting to recapture that feeling.” She gazed off at the horizon, seeing his mountains. She wondered if he ever felt the same way. “I never set out to be a ski instructor. It was more of an excuse to be out there, to be a part of that world.”
“Does that feeling ever go away?” he asked quietly.
She looked away from the horizon and found his eyes far more stunning that the painted sky. “I guess if I ever really found what I was looking for, it might.”
“You think you ever will?”
“Two days ago, I would have said no.”
“What about now?” His words were so serious, they nearly frightened her. Or maybe it was the answer.
“I don’t know about that feeling,” she said. “Only that right now I’m content to stop looking for what I don’t have and enjoy what I do. Right now I’m quite possibly the luckiest person I know.”
Gambling on the Bodyguard Page 6
