by Sharon Kleve
“I love it,” he said, his lips pressed against her ear.
Leila exhaled, melting into his chest, tension released. Maybe this really will work. she thought.
“I’m glad,” she said into his ear.
“It’s so you. It’s funny and sweet and goofy and weird and special, all rolled into one. And yeah, I pledge to do the same. I’ll let you know when I’m mad, let you know when I’m happy, mean what I mean and won’t play any games.”
How was she lucky enough to get such a wonderful man as this?
“And passion,” he said, his voice deepening.
Leila felt his strong hands gently take her chin, tilt it upwards so she looked straight into his eyes, and, giving her an intense glance, he pressed his lips against hers. The kiss was sweet, it was deep, it made her toes curl as his tongue entered her mouth and she thought she might swoon like a Victorian lady on a fainting couch.
His lips retreated from hers and she opened her eyes, not realizing she had closed them.
“Wait,” he said, “I forgot to give you your gift.”
He pulled a small, flat, rectangular box with a red bow from deep within his coat pocket. “Open it.”
She nearly tore off the ribbon, opened the box and laughed. Googly eyes on purple knit gloves greeted her inside the box. Fingerless gloves with mitten flaps decorated with a playful purple monster. “I love them . I saw these at the store and wanted them. Thank you .” She placed a kiss firmly on his lips. He held onto her tight so she couldn’t step away even if she wanted to. She didn’t want to.
“I saw them and they just said your name. No idea gloves could talk, but these said ‘Leila.’ very distinctly.”
“Like this?” Leila took a glove out of the box and held it up to her mouth, the mitten flap facing outward like an overbite. “Leila. Leila.” She moved the glove to mimic speaking, like a very poorly skilled ventriloquist. “Buy me, Nathan. Buy me for Leila.” She put the glove back in the box. “Was it kind of like that?”
He laughed and wrapped his arms around her again, pulling her closer. “You’re crazy —in a good way. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too.” Leila closed her eyes so she could feel the kiss more. Not sure why, maybe something about losing one sense increases the other, but she knew that kisses from Nathan were even better blind.
Her eyes flew open.
“Oh! There’s this too. In case you didn’t like the card.” She pulled out a small, flat rectangular box from her purse, wrapped in generic Christmas red and green stripes.
Nathan smiled, looked at her, and then ripped open the wrapping paper. Leather gloves with cashmere lining. He smiled and held one up.
“Gloves. You can’t do wrong with gloves. I like them.” He put one on his right hand. “And they fit. Thank you.”
“In case you didn’t like the card and wanted a real gift,” Leila explained.
Suddenly serious, Nathan gently stroked her cheek with his ungloved hand and pulled her closer to him. This kiss was even better than the last. “No chance of that,” he breathed between kisses. “They’re perfect.”
“Are you in line?” a voice behind them asked. Leila and Nathan looked up, suddenly noticing that the security line had grown so that they were now included in it. And there was a short gap between her and the person in front of her.
“Oh, I should go.” Leila put on her purple gloves. “Love them. Thank you. Thank you so much. Merry Christmas.”
“Wait.” Nathan’s voice stopped her movement. “New Year’s Eve. Are you back? Are you free?”
“Yes.” Leila grinned, a warmth filling her cold body. “Yes, yes, yes.”
“It’s a date then. I’ll pick you up when you return.” Before she could reply, he pulled her close again, and Leila knew for certain that he would be her lover. Soon. Before the end of the year.
The person behind them coughed and leaned forward, as if to encourage them to move ahead in the line.
“I gotta go,” Leila said.
“I’ll see you when you get back,” Nathan said.
One last kiss and an alternative rock love song filled Leila’s head. What were the lyrics? ‘I want to hurry home to you’? She would hurry home. She’d spend Christmas with her family in Florida, and enjoy the sunshine. Then she’d hop on a plane and return to the man who got her. She’d hurry home to him , and a very Happy New Year.
The Bodyguard
Julie Kavanagh
Chapter One
“His hands lifted the tresses of golden hair from her neck as his lips sought the soft pale skin beneath. She sighed, her senses aflame at his unprovoked touch. This shouldn’t happen . She must…”
“Gwen, are you busy?” Sam stuck his head through the door in the hope of catching the occupant of the opulent room in the process of doing nothing. The satin cushion aimed at his head informed him of his mistake.
“I told you not to disturb me. How do you think I’ll finish this bloody book if you interrupt me?” The blonde woman stood, hands on hips and searched for something else to throw.
“It’s past one and you need to eat something.” Sam called from behind the door because Gwen, his cousin and boss, had a great aim. “Besides, the driver’s here and Janis wanted you to meet him.”
“I don’t want a bloody driver. How many times do I have to tell you? I can drive, you can drive. Why do I need a Muppet with a hat to sit behind the wheel of my car?” Gwen moved to the large window which looked over the street below. Parked in the bay in front of the house was her beloved black Mercedes—the one she wasn’t allowed to drive. Not for a year, since the incident with the milk float which got in her way after that wonderful night out. It wasn’t her fault that she needed to overtake it, nor could she be blamed when it careened out of control on that corner, smashing ludicrously into the milkshake bar’s front window. How ironic was that? She’d laughed, but the attending policeman didn’t find the incident funny in the least. She’d offered to pay for the damages, and since the driver hadn’t even been injured, she felt her compensation offer had been more than generous.
“You’re not allowed to drive; you got banned, remember?” Sam ventured, stepping out but immediately regretted it as the second cushion hit him on the chin.
“I’m not bloody senile. Of course, I remember that stupid judge and his ridiculous verdict. Who the hell did he think he was?” Gwendolyn Lancaster shrieked but her voice trailed away at the sight of the man that stood behind Sam, her spotty and totally useless personal assistant. The stranger towered over him which made Sam seem absurdly undersized in his presence.
“Gwen, this is the driver. The one Janis hired.” Sam scooted out of the way as he noticed the fluffy weapon in Gwen’s hand, and abandoned the new and unwanted member of staff to the mercy of the boss’s unreasonable temper.
“The name’s Robert Denning, Ms. Lancaster.” The stranger, tall, dark and dashing stepped forward, his hand held out in greeting. “Is that for me?” he asked, and nodded his head at a pink monstrosity. He stepped forward to jerk the frothy cushion from her hand before throwing it casually onto the elegant cream sofa behind her.
Gwen stared, stunned into silence by the man’s action. She glanced at the cushion now back in its original position, innocently looking as though it had no business being used as a weapon.
“There’s been a mistake,” Gwen snapped. She’d never been bullied into anything and this wasn’t going to be the first time. “There isn’t a vacancy for a driver. I’m sorry you’ve been misled.” She turned her head to give Mr. Denning the force of her infamous glare but her eyes didn’t obey her as they took in the full image of the stranger.
He was so tall, devastatingly so, that she had to look up to him. The top of her head barely reached the sharp edge of his very broad shoulders even in he
r damn sexy heels. His dark hair, cut short to his head, was almost unnaturally black although his eyebrows and thick lashes were of the same ebony hue. His eyes hooded—as though he sought to hide their immensity—were a rich green, like emeralds lit by sunlight. His lips—oh my God, those lips were a sin against everything decent as they curled into a sardonic smile.
“You’re right,” he said. “The vacancy has been filled. I signed a contract with Mrs. Devereaux.”
“I didn’t ask for a driver and I don’t want one.” Gwen turned away to sit back at the rosewood desk where her expensive laptop waited, and refused to entertain the idea any further.
“Nevertheless, I’m here.” The man’s voice caught her attention; deep and gruff with just enough arrogance to make him interesting. “I believe you have an interview scheduled for three at the Dorchester. Be ready to leave at two thirty. I’ll be in the servants’ quarters and since I’ve got the keys to the Merc, you’ll have to come and find me. And I don’t wear a hat.”
Gwen twisted about, ready to harangue the man for his audacity but he’d already left the room and the door ajar. How dare he speak to her in that manner? Didn’t he know who she was? She stared at the space he’d left behind as she lifted her mobile to her ear.
****
“I know what you’re going to say,” the voice on the other end uttered quickly before Gwen could say anything. “Denning comes highly recommended, and because Sam is due on paternity leave, he will accompany you everywhere until I return from my weekend away. I won’t accept no for an answer.”
“But…” Gwen stammered. She’d forgotten that Sam’s insipid girlfriend had dropped her equally uninteresting sprog two days before. She should have remembered. Hadn’t she made her own way home from the station in a smelly taxi with her luggage after the Scottish end of her tour? How could she ever forget that? The silly cow wasn’t supposed to go into labor until Gwen was back in town.
“Enjoy it, enjoy him.” Janis chuckled naughtily down the phone. “Have you met him yet? He’s drop-dead gorgeous and will do your reputation no harm at all.”
“I don’t want a—”
“Don’t think of him as a driver. He could be your secret beau. The papers will love it,” Janis urged.
“My secret beau? Whatever will Jeremy think?” Gwen brushed away an imaginary stray lock of blonde hair from her face, as a scheming smile touched her perfect pink lips. What would Jeremy think when she turned up at social gatherings with the tall and very handsome Mr. Denning in tow? It would serve him right to think she’d found a new companion. It would teach him to run to the States and leave her behind every time an acting part came up. He knew she was due to fly to America for interviews later next month. Why couldn’t he have told those directors the timing didn’t suit? Some people were so selfish.
“A little jealousy won’t do him any harm at all.”
“He is rather striking,” Gwen mused as one long, painted fingernail traced a pattern over the top of the French rosewood desk.
“He reminded me a little of Jasper Raven feather, your hero in Love in a Buccaneer’s Arms,” Janis suggested, listening to the hush on the other end of the phone. Silence was always a good thing in an argument with Gwen. It meant her writing brain switched on and nothing appealed to Gwen more than a reference to one of her beloved characters. It had been Denning’s likeness to Raven feather which drew Janis to him in the first place—that and his impressive list of skills. With twelve years in the military, and four in personal security, he came highly recommended by people she knew and trusted. He was the perfect choice. The only fly in her particular ointment was Gwen herself. Still, that problem appeared to have solved itself.
“Yes, I can see what you mean. He’s not as debonair or as handsome but I suppose I could put up with him for a short while. How long will Sam be off?” Gwen peered out of the window as a black cab pulled up to the curb. Sam jumped into the back, two small black plastic bags in his hands as he nervously glanced up at the window. Gwen waved a majestic hand as the cab moved away.
“That’s my girl,” Janis chuckled. “Sam will be back before you know it. Shelly loved the flowers you sent and the basket of goodies for the baby. She phoned this morning to thank you but I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Great,” Gwen muttered, her mind on other things such as a tall, dark-headed pirate. She didn’t remember sending silly Shelly anything. Sam usually dealt with that sort of thing.
“Don’t forget the interview this afternoon. Denning has your full itinerary for the weekend and will take you anywhere you need to be,” Janis said, glancing at her husband tapping his watch to hurry her up. “I need to go, sweetie. Alex sends his love, but we need to rush if we’re going to catch our flight. Don’t forget I’m in Dublin until Monday, but I’ll have my mobile for any emergencies. Talk soon.”
“I’ll bet she’ll be on the phone before we unpack the bags,” Alex growled as he bent to lift the suitcase.
“I beg to differ,” Janis grinned as she opened the top drawer of the desk and slipped the phone into it. “I’ve given Denning your mobile number in case of any real emergencies, but I don’t expect anything he can’t handle.”
“I hope he can handle Gwen, she’s not an easy woman to like.”
“Robert Denning is a very capable man.” Janis followed her husband down to the waiting taxi. “It’s Gwen you should feel sorry for. She’s got no idea of what she’s in for.”
Chapter Two
“I’m ready.” Gwen stood in the doorway of the light and airy kitchen. She’d never been there before and didn’t realize how warm and welcoming it was below stairs. Apple green walls complemented modern stark white cabinets with a large stove set in an alcove. Bright yellow flowers sat in a squat vase on the wide window sill.
Denning sat on a wooden chair, and held a cup of black coffee, its smell enticing Gwen in. He looked up, those caustic eyes taking in every aspect of her outfit although she could detect no sign of approval in that gaze.
“It’s only two-twenty, you’re early,” he muttered, and returned his eyes to the tatty paperback in his other hand.
“I thought we could leave early, I don’t like to be late,” she said, expecting him to jump to his feet. Everybody else did.
“Twenty minutes is ample time to get you to the Dorchester; you’ll still be early when we leave at two-thirty,” he muttered again, his eyes fixed firmly to the pages of his book.
“I want to leave now.” She stamped her dainty foot, but not even that stirred the damned man into action.
“Madam, may I collect your tray?” Sarah, the petite and pretty maid, stepped forward, wiping her hands on a clean tea towel but Denning’s interruption froze her next words.
“You’ve just come downstairs, why didn’t you bring it with you?” Denning looked up again at Gwen with those damning eyes.
“I’m sorry?” Gwen spluttered.
“So you should be,” he smiled coldly, and his eyes raked over her, making Gwen feel like a prized heifer at market. By the chill of his stare, she didn’t feel she’d met his exacting expectations. How dare he? She glanced down at the expensive, designer cream suit she’d chosen for this prestigious interview, and wondered what didn’t meet with his approval.
“Yes, Sarah. Thank you.” Gwen lifted her head, watching the smaller woman leaving the room before turning her ire back to the driver. “I do not wish you to speak to me like that in front of Sarah—or anyone else. Her job is to cook and clean up after me. That’s why she’s in my employ…as are you.”
“Correction, you are the job. Mrs. Devereaux is my employer.” Denning lowered his eyes again as though not caring what she might think or say.
“I want to leave now,” Gwen hissed, ignoring his remark as her eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed in anger, but still, he didn’t move. She glared at
him for a moment then stretched forward, Before the man could realize what she was about to do, she’d snatched the keys to her beloved Merc. “I don’t need you. Stay here and read your bloody book.” She marched away with a satisfied smile, back up the stairs, almost knocking the tray out of Sarah’s hands before approaching the front door. She relished the sound of the heavy oak as it crashed shut behind her. She would show that arrogant bastard just how much she needed him.
Chapter Three
“Oh, baby, I’ve missed you,” she crooned, her highly-manicured fingers tracing a line along the gleaming bonnet of her beautiful car. One flick of the key opened the door as she slid gracefully into the driver’s seat, but her joy faded and a frown cut her forehead as the car refused to start, its engine deader than a dodo. Denning appeared at the side of the road, several small metallic objects in his hand as that damn smile crossed his face.
“The engine won’t do much without these.” He jiggled the parts in front of the windscreen, to Gwen’s annoyance. “I didn’t want to take the chance of a car thief stealing this beauty while we were out.”
“I’m not a thief!” Gwen squealed. She climbed out of the car as Denning opened the door, because there was little point in remaining in a car which had no prospect of ever leaving its parking space.
“I had no idea you would try to drive the car. You’ve been banned from driving, haven’t you?” He held out his hand to lead her to his own vehicle but she lifted her head and ignored him. He smiled softly, shrugged his shoulders, and moved towards a smaller, older car parked two spaces down. “Your chariot, milady.” He bowed low, a hand sweeping in front of him as he gently pulled open the passenger door.
