by Kylie Scott
“It pays to be ready to party, Mr. Thayer.” I finally produced the keys, dangling on a Miss Piggy fob. “Here you go. Alarm code is eight five star three zero one two.”
“Yours and your mother’s birthdays?”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“We have extensive files on all our clients.”
“I haven’t been your client for that long.”
“We also do background checks for the owner of the building.” He unlocked the door and punched in the code before standing aside so I could enter. The door was then locked behind me.
“That would explain it. Still, you have a very good memory.”
“That code will need to be changed to something random,” he said. “And it might be best if I hang on to the keys next time. Should there be an incident, we don’t want anything delaying you from getting into a secure location. If you could wait here please, miss.”
He strode through my apartment, giving it a thorough, if fast, inspection. My open plan living room, kitchen, dining space, office, spare bedroom, bathroom, and…this was exactly when it occurred to me.
“Wait!” Sore calves or not, I ran. “Ziggy, stop!”
Brows drawn in tight, he stood in my bedroom. “Please wait back at the door until I’ve cleared the apartment.”
“Just give me a second.”
“Miss Cooper,” he said.
“Just give me one second.”
“I must insist.”
With one hand I scooped up the underwear, T-shirt, cardigan, jeans, and shoes I’d worn yesterday. “Normally I tidy up after myself and make my bed, I swear. This is very unusual for me.”
He just blinked.
“I just got in so early in the morning and then I slept so badly,” I said in an almighty rush. “Please don’t think I’m a slob.”
He blinked again. “There are precisely six locations in this room that an intruder could hope to hide in. That is all I’m thinking about.”
“Okay.” I smiled. “Good. Stick with that.”
His movements somewhat more stilted than before, he checked in my ensuite and extensive walk-in closet.
“Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all,” I said. “All clear?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Excellent.”
The man just looked at me. I’m not sure what the look meant. But then his gaze dropped to the collection of items in my arms. Most noticeably, to the black lace thong dangling off my finger. Oops. Quick as possible, I scrunched it up in my hand. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Might have been the low lighting, yet I could have sworn the man almost blushed.
“Guess you’ve seen just about everything, what with being a bodyguard.” I slapped on my best friendliest smile. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to strike a pose. Even if his poses were mostly imitations of rock formations and other impassive, poker-faced things.
“Yes, miss.”
“Probably seen people doing all sorts of crazy things. My messy bedroom probably doesn’t even really rate.”
Another blink.
“You know, men usually have to take me out to dinner before they get to see my underwear,” I joked.
The man just stared.
Oh, God. “I shouldn’t have said that. That was really inappropriate. I’m so sorry. When I get nervous I tend to blather and nothing that comes out is ever any good.”
“It’s fine, miss.”
“I’m usually much more together than this. I don’t–”
“I’m going to leave now.”
I took a breath. “Um, yeah. That might be for the best.”
“If you could be sure to lock the door after me and use the security system?”
“Of course. Sorry again.”
He turned to go, then paused, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “I forgot to ask, have you decided upon your movements tomorrow?”
“Nothing much until my lunch appointment.”
“I’ll be here at nine then. There’s a few jobs I’d like to do before we head out.”
“Okay.”
And I definitely did not imagine his gaze returning to the hand holding my black silk thong. It was for the briefest of moments. If I blinked, I would have missed it. But I didn’t. Maybe I’d scarred the man for life by inadvertently flashing my underwear. Maybe he couldn’t believe what a train wreck I was. Or maybe he just liked looking at women’s lingerie. I don’t know.
Then he was gone. Ziggy sure could move fast when motivated.
Generally speaking, I didn’t tend to go around scaring grown men. Especially not former Marines. Though I wasn’t sure how else to interpret what just happened. Down the hallway, the front door clicked shut and I sighed. Maybe he’d send someone else tomorrow. He’d have to be a brave man to come back for more.
CHAPTER THREE
“Morning, Ziggy.”
“Morning, Miss Cooper.”
Giant-ass size mug of coffee in hand, I shuffled back into the spare bedroom, where an abundance of packing boxes awaited. “Are the hordes still downstairs?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Great. Must be a slow news week.”
And details of my gruesome bloody delivery had indeed spread everywhere. Having been bombarded with messages and calls, I’d made the smart decision to mute my cell. After first posting a behind-the-scenes picture from the recent shoot in New Orleans on Instagram and calling my mom, of course. She’d been horrified and pressed to come stay with me. I barely managed to convince her it wasn’t necessary. I needed some space to deal with things right now and having Ziggy and all his hotness in my face was already more than I could handle. I knew my mom would take over the place with a lot of good intentions but not much awareness of my slowly growing freak-out, barely being kept under control.
No, thank you.
Also, she had enough going on planning her wedding to Dr. Jane next month. A wonderful woman, and they made a great couple. Mom deserved much happiness after all those years of raising me on her own. Teenage girls could be hellacious and I’d been no exception. So many hormones bouncing around inside. Besides which, girls could be mean. It had been a tough time for everyone.
And speaking of hotness getting all up in my face, my bodyguard looked as slick as ever in his obviously custom-tailored black suit. Guess carrying a gun around in a holster necessitated the tailoring. I, on the other hand, wore my favorite boyfriend jeans, an old Ramones tee, messy bun, and concealer to hide the sleep deprivation bruising beneath my eyes. I had at least showered. Bonus points to me.
“Will you still be going to lunch with Mrs. Ferris?” he asked.
I cocked my head. “What’s your professional opinion? I’d been looking forward to it. There’s this cool new place we were going to try. But…”
“I won’t lie to you. Crowds massively increase the amount of moving parts in your environment. You never know who or what might be hiding in them. And right now, you’re bound to have people following wherever you go.”
“Hmm.”
“It’s my job to assess threats and keep you safe.” His cell started to vibrate somewhere about his person. He pulled it out of his back pants pocket, checked the screen, and dismissed the call with a slide of his thumb. “But only you can decide what risk is important enough, for whatever reason, to be worth taking.”
“If they’re all still out there then I guess I might cancel my plans.” I planted my ass on the carpet and picked up my cell, sending Lena a quick text to let her know. Given the situation, I cancelled my appointment with my hairdresser in the afternoon as well. “Looks like I’m spending the day at home. You probably don’t need to hang around.”
“You won’t be leaving your apartment at all?”
“Only maybe to go down to the apartment building’s gym later.”
“Then I’ll stay. There’re some other tasks I have to do while you’re busy here.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but then changed my mind. After a
long night of jumping at every little noise, keeping the bodyguard around might be for the best. Calm the savage nerves and all that. If it was a choice between annoying hotness and crippling fear, then I’ll go for the heat every time. “Okay.”
“Any update from Detective Ortega?”
“No. Not a word.” I sighed. “I tried going through some of my emails and messages last night, to see if they mentioned hearts or knives or anything like that. There’s some seriously deranged people out there. I mean, can you imagine sending a message to a complete stranger saying that baby Jesus was going to strike them down dead and send them to hell? Or that you wanted to strangle them and have sex with their corpse? Who the hell says that sort of thing? Just because they can hide behind a bullshit email address or fake avatar they think they can let all of their ugly out to play and inflict it on other people.”
His gaze narrowed, lines furrowing his brow. “Why don’t you let the police deal with that in the future, Miss Cooper? You don’t need that sort of shit getting into your head. Excuse my language.”
I attempted a smile. “It’s fine. Swear all you like. This situation makes me want to swear too.”
“There’s a lot of sick and cruel people out there. It doesn’t mean you need to give them a moment of your time.”
“True,” I said. “I guess you’ve seen a lot of this sort of stuff before.”
“Enough to know you’re better off staying away from it and leaving the detective work to the professionals.”
“I know, I know.” My shoulders slumped, my back bowed. My bones felt hollow and weak. Tonight I’d take some Melatonin and try to knock myself out. Actually get some decent sleep. “I just hate being so out of control. Having to put my life on pause because of this asshole.”
“Understandable.”
Around me were towers of books waiting to be shelved. Romance mostly. Since I had the time, I might as well place them in alphabetical order. His gaze wandered over them with something close to interest. Made me curious about his hobbies. Apart from being a fulltime card-carrying member of the badass club, of course. He probably kick boxed and scaled tall buildings and saved kittens from burning trees. I really shouldn’t have sat down. From this height, he seemed even more imposing. Like a mountain towering over me, taking up all of the view. I’d been around plenty of big shot actors, sports stars, and business tycoons over the years, courtesy of various events and V.I.P. lounges. Ziggy Thayer had more presence than all of them put together. It’s like he sucked the air out of a room just by generally being cool and existing.
Or maybe he only had that effect on me. If so, I could seriously do without the complication. Dammit.
“Miss?”
And I’d been staring at the man again. “I’m sorry, Ziggy. I kind of zoned out there for a minute. Were you saying something?”
“Only that I better get on with it. I’ll be down in the garage. If you need me, just contact me on my cell.”
“Why the garage?” I asked, curious.
“I’d like to give your vehicle a quick check over, followed by your apartment.”
His phone started to vibrate again.
“Do you need to take that call?”
“No, miss.”
“What are you looking for in my car and apartment?”
“Anything that shouldn’t be there. Listening devices, mostly.”
“You think that the crazy person who mailed me a skewered heart might be bugging my car? Psycho nut does Mission Impossible?”
“No. My concern is with the press.”
I paused. “You think someone might have been listening into my conversations and that’s how the story got leaked?”
“It’s highly unlikely,” he said. “But I’d feel better if I checked and since I have the time...”
“All right. And thank you for listening to me moan before.”
“Anytime, miss. It’s all part of the service.” The skin around his eyes crinkled a little. It might be the closest thing to a grin I’d ever see on his face.
It made me smile for real.
He nodded as if pleased, then stalked off. The man was like a big jungle cat. I’d sauntered and strutted down plenty of walkways. But away from that world, I was more likely to stub my toe on a coffee table than move with any particular grace. Ziggy’s movements seemed innate. A quintessential part of him. Guess they probably trained you in the military to stand tall and walk like you mean it and everything. Kind of made me wonder how he did other things. Private things I had no business thinking about. I needed to stop sexually harassing the man inside my head. It was bad and wrong and I should know better. I really should.
A couple of hours later, Ziggy stood in front of my kitchen island, taking in the array of food on display. His eyes were the size of plates. Guess I’d impressed him. My chocolate cake, brownies, and chocolate chip cookies sure impressed me. And chocolate was important for any sort of balanced diet. After all, I was a growing girl (spiritual growth mattered) who needed to keep her strength up to deal with the harsh realities of life and douchebags on the internet. After half an hour or so of book sorting, I needed to change activities. Maybe I had a case of the overtired freaked-out hysterics. But I had to be up and on my feet doing something and moving around. I had a killer of a sweet tooth so that made the decision easy.
“I stress bake. It’s kind of my thing,” I explained, wiping my hands on my apron. “Are you hungry? Do you like sweet things?”
“I love sweet things.”
“Excellent. Take a seat.”
He sat on one of the stools on the opposite side of the island, watching me serve him a fork along with a plate containing one of everything. The small walkie talkie looking type thing he’d been using to search for listening devices lay in front of him.
“Did you find anything?” I asked.
“No.”
“That’s good to know. Did you know desserts taste better when eaten with a fork?”
“Is that a fact?”
“Absolutely. Try it and see. The only caveat is to not attempt it with ice cream or pudding. That can get messy,” I said. “Milk or coffee?”
“Water will be fine. Thank you, Miss Cooper.”
I grabbed him a glass from the jug in the fridge then stood opposite him, eating my own slice of chocolate frosting covered heaven. How could you be down when you had cake? It was impossible. Ziggy ate with an economy and efficiency of movement. Not shoving it in like an animal, but not wasting time either.
“It’s good,” he said.
I smiled. “So what’s your job like?”
He did a one shoulder shrug. “It’s a job. It’s what I’m trained for.”
“You never wanted to do anything else?”
“Not really. Enlisted straight out of school then moved into close protection work once I left the Marines. What about you?”
“A modeling agent approached me at an airport when I was nineteen. Mom and I had just been on an epic trip to Disneyland for her fortieth birthday. We had such a good time.” I used my fork to carefully cut off another small piece of cake. Truth was, after all the cookie dough I’d digested, I wasn’t actually hungry. So I guess stress baking and comfort eating were two of my things. “I’d been working, saving my pennies, and hanging out with friends. But who wouldn’t want to be part of the glamour, getting to wear cool clothes and travel the world?”
“Is that what it’s like?”
“Sometimes,” I said. “But more often than not, it’s boring and awkward and working long hours. You get to travel, but it’s rare that you actually get to do any sightseeing. Things tend to be pretty rushed on business trips. And when you’re starting out you have to stay in the model apartments. Imagine twelve people, some of whom have seriously dodgy hygiene, squeezed into a three-bedroom dump and paying through the roof for it half the damn time. Ugh. Listen to me whine.”
He did the solo brow raise thing. Such a cool move. “How is modeling awkward?”
“Can’t say I have.”
“T and A as far as the eye can see. I used to be shy and demure, dammit!”
This time it was definitely there. The small twitch of his lips revealing the faintest of smiles. If it wouldn’t have been obvious and embarrassing, I’d have high-fived myself in victory. I made Ziggy Thayer’s tough guy stone façade crack for a second. Go me. Even dead tired and half falling apart, this was something to celebrate. With more chocolate cake, of course.
He gave me a long hard look. I’d have paid real money to know what he was thinking. Lucky for me, I didn’t have to. This time at least.
“Had to escort a group of businessmen around a bunch of sex clubs once. That was eye-opening,” he said. “And then there was a member of royalty who was into being watched and walked in on. You couldn’t enter a room without accidentally catching sight of something.”
“Oh my God. How did you keep a straight face?”
“Keeping a straight face is one of my specialties.”
“I’ve noticed.”
There it was again. His lips curved upward by about an eighth of an inch. Maybe less. One thing was for sure, my eyesight would be sharp as hell by the time this man left to protect someone else.
“All of this sangfroid of yours makes me want to say weird and outrageous things just to try and catch you off guard,” I confessed. “But I’ll do my best to try to restrain myself. Today at least.”
“I appreciate that.”
“You’re very welcome.” I grinned. Holy cow. Were we flirting? Or was it just me and my overactive imagination?
“Miss Cooper,” he said in that rough low voice. “When’s the last time you slept? I mean really slept.”
“Do I look that bad?”
“You look fine. But you do look like you could use a decent night’s sleep.”
I turned away, embarrassed for some reason. Teary almost. Actually I completely knew the reason. Being worn out and having someone you liked call you on it kind of sucked. No matter how nice he was trying to be.
“This stalker thing and the messages and everything have got me a little…wound up, I guess,” I said. “Jittery, you know? Actually, you probably don’t know. I can’t imagine anything scaring you.”
