Deceiving Bella: Book Eleven In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series

by Beauman, Cate

  He wrinkled his nose. “Decaffeinated?”

  “I like the taste, but I don’t like feeling jittery all day. Did you sleep well?”

  He’d thought about her all night, replaying her embrace with her mobster father a million times. “Like a baby.”

  “Good.”

  “Wanna take a ride today?”

  She smiled. “Sure. I need to shower first and feed Lucy her breakfast.”

  “Take your time. How about we leave around ten? I’ll take you up the coast. We can stop off at this little place I know and have lunch.”

  She nodded. “That sounds great, but I can’t be gone too long. Lucy will get offended.”

  “We’ll probably be three hours, four at the most, if that works for you.”

  “Definitely. I’ll make it up to her with a long walk tonight.” She stood, giving him a good look at her excellent legs. “I guess I should get moving. I’ll see you in a little while.”

  “See ya.” His friendly smile vanished as she turned away and started inside. Here he was, back to the lying and secrets—a part of his life he thought he’d left behind, but clearly that wasn’t the case.

  Shoving away any regrets, he walked down the hall to the spare room he used as his gym and grabbed an old, ratty blanket they could bring along for their beach date. It had been a long time since he’d planned anything even remotely special for a woman, but he was willing to try if it got him the results he was after. People talked more when they were relaxed. Bella loved to be by the water, so that’s where he was going to take her.

  With a loose plan in place, he readied himself for the day with a shower and shave, dressing in jeans and one of his many white Ethan Cooke Security T-shirts. A bagel was next on the agenda, which he smooshed into a sandwich of bread and cream cheese. Then he went to the closet, pulling out his helmet along with the extra he kept on hand for occasions just like this. Bella was going to need a leather jacket for the ride, but nothing he had would fit her well.

  A knock sounded at the door. He turned, opening it, and smiled as Bella stood in front of him, dressed in snug jeans and a simple white sleeveless shirt that she’d paired with Vans sneakers. Her hair was French-braided and her makeup and jewelry were in place, but this was the most relaxed he’d seen her. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi.”

  Already, her subtle scent wafted his way, teasing his senses. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.” She stepped inside, and her smile faded as her gaze tracked around his empty living room. “Wow, Reed, I like what you’ve done with the place. It looks so different since the last time I was here.”

  He grinned, shutting the door behind her. “I haven’t had a chance to study Wren’s plans yet. I keep forgetting them at the office.”

  “If you were thinking about being comfortable while you live here, you might want to get on that.”

  “It’s on the agenda for this week. Wren said she came up with three or four different ideas. Maybe you can give them a once-over and see what you think.”

  “I would love to. Wren and I had such a good time working on my house.”

  He imagined that asking Bella how she’d paid for everything wouldn’t be a great way to start off their day. “You did a nice job.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  “So, I was trying to figure out what we’re going to do about a jacket for you.”

  “Do I need one? It’s warm outside already.”

  “If we dump, you’ll want something on.”

  “Dump?”

  “Tip over, which we won’t do,” he added quickly when her eyes widened. “Better safe than sorry, though.” He walked over to the closet. “I’ve got a couple of options.” He pulled out both hangers with her choices on them.

  She blinked as she stared at them. “They’re pretty big.”

  “Yeah. I’ve probably got a good sixty pounds on you.”

  “Well, let’s take a look.” She tugged the first off the hanger and put it on, lifting her brow as the hem hung to her thighs and her hands were lost in the sleeves. “What do you think?”

  He chuckled. “I think it would make life easier if you had a jacket of your own.”

  “True. But I don’t.” She took off their first attempt.

  He pulled the second off the hanger himself and helped her into it, zipping the zipper and easing her braid free from the back of the collar. “A little better.”

  She nodded. “A little.”

  “It’s not a fashion statement, but it’ll keep you safe.”

  “That’s the most important thing.”

  “We’re going to need this too.” He grabbed the backpack he’d folded the old blanket into. “You’ll have to wear this.”

  “Sure. Do you mind if I throw in my purse?”

  “Go for it. Just leave your sunglasses out. And let’s get this adjusted.” He sunk the open-face helmet down on her head and fiddled with the strap, his knuckles brushing her baby-soft skin with every movement. “Is that comfortable?”

  “Feels fine.”

  “I think we’re ready to go.”

  Excitement filled her eyes as she smiled. “I can’t wait.”

  “Let’s do it, then.” He locked up, and they walked out to the bike. “There are a couple of rules, though.”

  “All right.”

  “When I turn, I want you to lean with me—nothing crazy, just follow my lead.”

  She nodded.

  “When we stop, keep your feet in your spot. I’ll get on first.” He zipped his jacket, shoved his sunglasses in place as Bella did the same, put on his helmet, then kicked his leg over and took his seat. “Okay. Go ahead and hop on.”

  She climbed on behind him. “Um, where should I hold on?”

  He could sense her rigid posture as her thighs barely brushed his hips. “There’s a spot behind you if you want.”

  She moved to settle in.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  “That doesn’t sound very convincing.”

  “No, this is fine.”

  He reached behind him and took her hands, settling her arms around his waist. “Let’s try this.”

  “Better,” she said closer to his ear.

  “You sure?”

  “Much.”

  She felt good nestled up against him. It was a damn shame that Bella was not only not his type but also a Caparelli. “Then let’s go.” He drove off toward the main road and pulled into traffic, taking a detour around the block, giving Bella a chance to get used to the feeling of turning.

  She stiffened, gripping him tight as they went right.

  “Relax, Bella. Just lean with me.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You’re doing fine.”

  He waited at the light, and they took the next right and another. By the time they made it into their fourth turn, she was moving with him, and seemed to be ready to go. “Are you feeling good about this?”

  “Definitely.”

  “If you change your mind at any time, just let me know.”

  “I won’t change my mind.”

  He accelerated from their spot at the intersection and they started their journey north, driving for almost an hour on Highway 1 with the Pacific for the view to their left and the canyons to the right. Somewhere along the way, Bella had fully relaxed, her arms going loose on his waist and her head occasionally resting on his back. He spotted the sign for Louie’s Seafood Shack and smiled, slowing and parking by the desolate patch of beach. He put his feet down, set the kickstand, and killed the engine. “How are you doing back there?”

  She sat up, breaking their connection. “I love this. Love it.”

  “Good. Go ahead and get off first.”

  She climbed down and grinned as their eyes met. “This is one of the best times I’ve ever had.”

  He took off his helmet and unclipped hers. “It doesn’t take much to impress you.”

  She took hers off, holding it aga
inst the side of her body with one arm. “Look at this view. What more could you ask for?”

  He stared out at the waves rushing the sand, and caught hints of Bella’s perfume on the wind. “It’s great. I’ve driven up here a couple of times.”

  “I’m glad you brought me with you.” She took his hand and squeezed. “Thank you.”

  He glanced down at her fingers clasped around his and struggled to keep his jaw from clenching. It was hard not to be affected by her friendliness and constant need to touch. “You’re welcome. How about some lunch?” He pulled his hand free, gesturing to the refurbished lifeguard tower turned seafood stand. “It’s kind of a dive, but they have amazing clams.”

  “I’ve never tried fried clams.”

  “Then you’re in for a treat.” He walked with her over to the window, studying her out of the corner of his eye as she read the menu. Bella had high-end taste, but there was nothing about her that appeared to be high-maintenance. He’d half expected her to turn up her nose at his lunch idea, yet here she stood, ready and enthusiastic to try something new. Why didn’t anything about this woman add up?

  They ordered two plates with sides of fries and made their way to the sand, protecting their food from the birds while they took turns removing their socks and shoes and Bella her jacket.

  “I brought a blanket if you want to eat closer to the water.”

  “Perfect.” She led them to a quiet spot five or six feet from the surf and pulled out the blanket. Sitting, she buried her feet in the sand. “Mmm. Paradise.”

  “Wait till you try your lunch.” He lifted a fried clam to her lips.

  She bit in and her brow winged up. “Wow.”

  He loved that she liked it. “Yeah?”

  She grabbed his wrist and snagged the rest of the bite from his fingers. “So good. They don’t even need the tartar sauce.” She swallowed. “What a charming little spot.”

  “It’ll get crowded as the weather warms up.”

  “I don’t see how it couldn’t.” She sighed and closed her eyes as the wind rushed over their faces. “I don’t know how I lived without this for most of my life.”

  “The clams?”

  She grinned, meeting his gaze. “The water.”

  “Vegas is pretty landlocked, huh?”

  “No ocean to be seen.” She popped another piece in her mouth.

  “You grew up there?”

  “Mmm, we settled in when I was eleven. We moved around some before that.”

  He sampled a crispy fry. “Brothers and sisters?”

  “Just me. What about you?”

  “Only child, but my cousins lived right down the road—my mom’s family.”

  She narrowed her eyes, studying him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Sometimes I catch a hint of an accent, but I can’t place it.”

  “I’m originally from New York, but my mom and I moved to a tiny town outside of Fargo after my dad died. On the Minnesota side of the city—if that’s what you want to call the place.”

  The light vanished from her eyes. “I’m sorry about your dad. How old were you when he passed away?”

  He wanted to correct her. His father had been murdered—hunted down and shot like a dog—along with his grandfather and uncle. “Five—a couple days before my sixth birthday.”

  She made a pained sound in her throat as she touched his arm, her eyes radiating compassion. “It’s tough losing a parent so young.” She gripped his hand in hers. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.” He removed his hand from hers, reaching for his soft drink. He didn’t want Bella’s sympathy. Her regrets didn’t make his family any less dead. “It was a long time ago.”

  She reached for a french fry.

  “What about your family?” he asked. “Do your parents live close by?”

  “My mom died last year.”

  “Sorry to hear that. That must be tough for your father.”

  She paused with a bite at her lips. “Yeah.”

  He didn’t miss her hesitation. “He’s still in Vegas?”

  “Uh, no. California.”

  He could sense that she wanted to drop the subject as her posture grew rigid, but he wasn’t ready to let it go. “It’s great that he has you.”

  “We see each other occasionally.” She wiped her hands on a napkin and stood. “I’m going to use the bathroom.”

  He’d struck some sort of nerve. “I’ll be right here.”

  “Go ahead and finish those up.” She gestured to her meal. “I’m finished.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. I’ll just be a minute.”

  “Take your time.” He watched her walk away, bringing her shoes with her but forgetting her purse. He waited for the door to close behind her before he wiped his fingers on a napkin and unzipped the backpack. Glancing over his shoulder once more, he reached for her trendy little bag and opened the snap, peeking inside. Keys, lip gloss, a small tube of something or other, wallet, and phone. Not much to work with.

  He grabbed her wallet, noting the twenty and five she carried in cash, the change in the small pocket, her California license, the one credit card Joey had tracked down, and her bank card, but nothing of any significance. Shoving the wallet back among her things, he eyed her phone. That’s what he wanted access to—her contacts, but he didn’t dare risk it, especially when she probably had a password. At a dead end, he put everything back exactly the way he’d found it and zipped the backpack. At some point, he would find an opportunity to get what he was after. He and Bella were going to start spending a lot of time together.

  ~~~~

  Bella stood in front of the mirror in the tiny beachside bathroom, pushing the flyaway hairs back into her braid. She wished she hadn’t forgotten her purse in Reed’s bag; her lips could use a little gloss, but that would have to wait. Leaning closer, she fixed her simple teardrop earrings, lining the silver tips up straight, the way they were supposed to hang, then frowned at her reflection. Not everything had to be perfect today. Her only focus needed to be on having fun: cool new experiences, good company, and amazing food. She could do without Reed’s twenty questions where her family was concerned, but it made sense that he would ask. They were still getting to know each other—and most people were proud to talk about their moms and dads. But most people didn’t have parents like hers.

  Sighing, she shoved her negative thoughts away and tried to focus on the present. Reality and complicated family issues were for later. Right now was for the beach. She slid her sunglasses back in place and opened the door, taking off her shoes and starting Reed’s way. He’d taken off his jacket while she’d been gone and was currently leaning back on his hands, his impressive triceps bunching in his snug T-shirt while the wind played with his hair. From a distance, he appeared to be the picture of calm, but there was an unwavering intensity in his eyes that led her to believe he was always on guard.

  He turned his head and smiled.

  “Man, that’s a lethal grin,” she murmured and smiled back, sending him a quick wave.

  “Lucy’s missing out on some serious fun.” He gestured to a couple of seagulls dive-bombing a family trying to enjoy their lunch. “Oops. There goes the kid’s hot dog.”

  She laughed as she took her spot next to Reed. “Poor guy.”

  “I wonder how many meals they steal in a given day?”

  “More than a few, I’m sure.” She sighed, crossing her ankles as the breeze rushed up to meet her. “The wind feels good.”

  “It does. The sun’s hot.”

  “Mmm. These are the days you burn and don’t even realize it until it’s too late.” She looked at him. “You’re wearing sunblock?”

  “Nah.”

  She frowned, sitting up straight. “Why aren’t you wearing sunblock?”

  He shrugged. “I forgot to put some on.”

  “You’re risking sun damage and skin cancer.” She unzipped the backpack and reached in her purse for the s
mall tube of sunscreen she always kept handy.

  He grinned. “You carry that stuff with you?”

  “Of course. Do you know how many cases of melanoma Dr. Huberty and I see every month? I just referred someone over to her on Thursday.” She took his hand, squirting a small glob in his palm. “Lather up, buddy. You’re not getting cancerous growths on my watch.”

  He chuckled. “Is this part of the Reed McKinley Project?”

  “You bet. Your face is way too pretty to be getting sliced and diced.”

  “Pretty?” He frowned this time as he rubbed the lotion on his arms and the majority of his face. “I’m not pretty.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Handsome, then. You missed a few spots.” She faced him and leaned in, spreading out the streaks along his nose, then went to work on his forehead.

  He closed his eyes beneath his tinted shades and let loose a breath. “Feels good.”

  “Touch is very therapeutic.”

  He grunted his response.

  “This is an all-natural product fortified with green tea and antioxidants. It’s great for your skin.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  She dabbed a pea-sized drop on her index fingers and traced his ears.

  He opened his eyes, meeting hers through amber lenses.

  She swallowed, finding the power of his stare both mesmerizing and unsettling. “Most people forget their ears—men especially, which is unfortunate. I had a client lose an entire portion of his helix.”

  “I’m not up on my anatomy.”

  “This part here.” She outlined the upper area of his cartilage as her gaze wandered to his mouth. “Uh, are you finished with your lunch? Because you should protect your lips as well.”

  He snagged a fry from the paper plate, bit in, and held the other half up to her mouth.

  She smiled and took it. “These are so good. I wonder what seasoning they use?”

  “We could ask.”

  She shook her head, applying a light coat of product to his lips as their eyes locked again, then finished by protecting her own. “I can’t see myself making french fries anytime soon.”

  “They’re the food of champions.”

  “Grease is horrible for the complexion.”

  “I’ve never seen skin as flawless as yours.” He skimmed his knuckles along her cheek. “It’s like porcelain.”