“I can’t believe this!” she wailed softly. Obviously, her bag had been targeted for inspection. No doubt because of all the liquid-filled bottles she had packed, full of saline solution for her contacts.
“Someone’s going to pay!” she muttered, ordering her aching eyes not to leak. “Or I’ll know why.”
“You’re blaming the airline for your terrible packing job?” The deep, faintly melodic voice spoke behind her. Its speaker sounded foreign. Maybe Italian.
She spun on her knees, in outrage glaring up at the rude interloper. Then her mouth gaped open. It was Colin’s dark-haired bodyguard. The one who had reminded her of an elf.
The nerve of the man.
“It’s you!” Rising to her feet, she took uncharitable satisfaction in towering over him in her high heels. “Are you Mutt, or Jeff?” she inquired frostily.
His lips tightened. “I’m here to drive you.” He wore a black windbreaker and black jeans. They matched his black hair, black eyes, and black attitude, she decided.
“It’s about time.” She couldn’t believe her own rude words. “I’ve been waiting a half an hour.” An exaggeration. “And my coat is wet,” she said inconsequentially. Now she noticed that her suitcase was wide open, its messy contents displayed to the world—including her lacy pieces of underwear. Mortified, she pounced on it, and zipped it closed. Guilt for her annoyed comments prickled; unfortunately, too late.
“It’s raining,” the bodyguard said tersely, flicking a disapproving glance at her thin blouse.
More irritation surged, but she struggled to ignore it. “I don’t need a coat. Let’s go.” She hefted up her carry-on and laptop, grabbed the carry strap of her mammoth suitcase, and started walking. It was an unruly suitcase, as she knew from experience, and so she tried to be extra careful. If she tugged too hard to the left or to the right, it would tip over.
Alexa marched out the door and down the little incline. The suitcase raced after her. She jerked it to the right at the last minute, so it wouldn’t hit her legs, and it flopped over.
“Drat.” Her face burned. Awkwardly, she bent to right it. Her shoulder bag flopped forward, banging her arms. The laptop hit the ground. She growled behind her teeth.
She saw the bodyguard’s black legs standing unhelpfully a distance away. Her smaller suitcase was in his hand. No delicate pull straps for him. Well. Hair disheveled, she straightened, all to rights again. Now it occurred to her that she didn’t know where they were going.
She gave him a cool stare. “Lead on, then.”
Expressionlessly, he moved in front of her. She carefully followed him down the sidewalk and around hurrying people. Her suitcase fell over two more times, and her cotton blouse was thoroughly damp by the time a crowd of people suddenly rushed out another set of sliding doors. She jerked to a halt and the dratted suitcase spilled over again. Tears were close, now. This was no fairy tale!
What was she doing here, in a foreign airport, with a surly man? With wrinkled, ruined clothes. She was soaking wet, her suitcase wouldn’t behave, and that jerk wouldn’t stop to help her.
Not that she would, if she had been him, Alexa admitted. She had been terribly rude. But then again, so had he.
And where was he? Panic surged. The people were gone and she had righted her suitcase again, but the bodyguard had disappeared. Alexa bit her lip, hoping the pain would keep the tears at bay.
“I’ll take that.” He was at her elbow, bending to unstrap the silly leash from the suitcase. He plucked it from her hand, lifted the case as if it weighed nothing, and deposited it in the back of a large black car. She knew little about cars, but this one looked expensive.
Alexa hurried and slid into the backseat. Thankfully, heat blasted inside the car, for she was thoroughly chilled. He slammed the door, getting in on the passenger’s side—no, driver’s side, here in England. Rain glistened in his wavy hair. He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Royalty, are you?”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“You expect me to be your chauffeur?”
“Well, aren’t you?” she retorted outrageously, peeved still further.
The hard eyes looked disgusted. “Please yourself.”
Alexa sat in silence while her “chauffeur” drove. She felt like a naughty child who had been disciplined. She didn’t like the feeling. And she didn’t like the thought of him looking down his nose at her, either. She hated anyone thinking badly of her.
But he had started it!
She crossed her arms and stared out the window. She noticed now that her blouse was wet enough that she could see her bra through it. Great! She hugged her arms tighter against herself.
They drove in silence through the black, wet streets. He drove the car fast and well. At least he was a competent driver.
At last they turned into a quiet neighborhood with large homes and towering trees. A gate barred the entrance to one of these houses. They stopped and a uniformed guard allowed them through. Then they slid over the black pavement to a detached garage. The car purred inside, and then the engine went silent. Equally silently, its driver exited and unloaded her suitcases from the back.
Alexa felt very uncomfortable by now. The silence and guilt for her biting words at the airport made her feel awful. She edged out of the car, gripping her smaller bags. Why couldn’t she learn to be tactful, like her sister?
The bodyguard had both suitcases in hand and he headed over the grass for the house. She hurried after him, mentally despising her high heels that tripped over every little grass clump and hole. Rain poured down on her head, soaking her further, and she shivered, freezing cold. Her hair fell in wet, stringy clumps about her face. Vainly, she hoped Colin wouldn’t greet her. At least not immediately. She must look like a drowned rat.
The bodyguard opened a side door and she hurried in after him, eager for dry warmth. They entered a kitchen, painted a warm yellow, with cream colored cupboards and granite countertops. The refrigerator, stove, and microwave were stainless steel, and up-to-the-minute in function and design. Alexa imagined microwaving a cup of tea.
But no rest for the weary. The bodyguard led her up a narrow staircase, turned right, and then nudged open a door with his foot. She followed him into a lovely room with thick white rugs on the floor, an ivory and lace covered bed with a canopy, wallpaper strewn with yellow roses, and warm, dark wood furniture. It felt open and spacious, and smelled super—like orange blossoms.
Alexa smiled, lowering her bags to the floor. “It’s beautiful!” she breathed.
“Are you finished with my services?” The bodyguard’s tone sounded deferential, but he stood with his legs slightly apart and hands behind his back. It came off as hostile.
Alexa kicked off the infernal high heels and made a decision. “I think we’ve started out on the wrong foot. I’m Alexa.” She started to put out her hand, but then realized her blouse was now see-through. Embarrassed, she crossed her arms again.
No friendliness entered the black eyes. “Jamison.”
He wasn’t making this easy. She bit her lip. “I was rude. I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted.” He headed for the door.
“Wait! Aren’t you going to apologize to me?”
“For what?”
“For your sarcastic comments at the airport.”
“I would, if they mattered to you. But they don’t.”
“Excuse me?” Without thinking, Alexa put her hands on her hips and glared.
“Sorry…Alexa. But you’re a type. I’ve got you nailed down.” His gaze didn’t even flicker in the direction of her now visible bra.
“Type? Nailed down?” She didn’t like the sound of this.
“You’re a beautiful woman, Alexa. You know it and you use it to get what you want. I’ll be watching you.”
Incensed, she said the first rash thing that came to her mind. “And you know what they say about short men; they overcompensate to cover up their deficits.” Alexa didn’t kn
ow the quote. She was just making it up. And very unChristian it was, she realized, too late. Her mouth! “I’m so sorry…”
But he turned without a word and was gone. The only indication of his anger was the sharp click of the door latch as it closed.
Alexa stared at the door. Now what had she done? Not only had she attacked his height, but she had insinuated he might have other deficits, too. What had gotten into her? How could she possibly say such terrible things to that man?
But he wasn’t exactly Mr. Sweetness and Light, either, she reminded herself. Not that that excused her behavior in the least.
Alexa wanted to call her sister. She wanted to burst into tears. This trip was not turning out anything like she had hoped. Not if that irksome bodyguard was about to become a permanent fixture in her life. She would avoid him. She would do everything in her power to steer clear of him. And if she couldn’t; well, she would take the high road, no matter how hard that might be. In fact, from now on, she would treat him with faultless courtesy.
That man would not be the end to her fairy tale.
A private bath was attached to Alexa’s room, and filled with fluffy white towels and luscious smelling toiletries. She felt much better after a shower and change of clothes. Now she was ready to see Colin—if he was here tonight.
A timid knock sounded on the door. “Miss?”
Alexa hurried for the door, relieved someone had come for her. She was hungry, and didn’t know if she should go out and wander the halls looking for the dining room, or wait for someone to fetch her. It felt awkward to be in a foreign country in a stranger’s house. She didn’t know what was expected of her, and she had already made one enemy. She didn’t want to make more.
She flung the door open wide. “Yes?”
The portly, comfortable woman on the other side jumped a bit, her eyes round. A white cap was pinned to her head, and she wore a uniform. “Mr. Colin has asked that you join him for supper.”
“How lovely. Thank you for coming to get me. Let me slip on my shoes.” She quickly did so—flats, this time—and hurried after the woman. “I’m Alexa.” She was anxious to make at least one friend in this house. Besides Colin, of course.
“I’m Mrs. Stroud, the housekeeper.” The woman cast her a nervous smile and led the way down the hall—in a different direction from the one Jamison had brought her, Alexa noted. This direction ended in a wide balcony overlooking a sweeping, curved staircase. A massive chandelier sparkled overhead, shooting brilliant lights everywhere.
“It’s beautiful,” Alexa breathed. She loved chandeliers. Hence the one in her bedroom back home. Feeling like she was in a dream, she floated down the staircase after Mrs. Stroud. She felt like a princess about to enter the ball. Her imagination conjured up a sparkling array of guests below—including a few of Colin’s famous friends, of course—and black-suited waiters swooping about carrying platters of champagne to the guests. Perhaps dancing would take place over there, between the marble columns…
“This way.” Mrs. Stroud smiled. “You look enraptured, you do, miss.”
Alexa couldn’t say it looked just like a fairy tale. She was an adult, after all. “It’s lovely,” she sighed instead.
“Mr. Colin will be pleased you like it,” the woman said comfortably, and ushered her into a room lined with books and plush green velvet chairs.
“Thank you, Mrs. Stroud.” Alexa and the other woman exchanged a smile, and the door closed quietly behind her.
Colin had been sitting in front of a roaring fire. Now he stood. “Alexa! How good to see you.”
She tried to walk sedately to Colin. It was difficult. With his warm grin, it seemed natural to hurry over. It was nice to at last feel so welcome.
He took her hand and kissed it. “You are as beautiful as I remember. More so.”
She blushed. “Thank you.”
He turned to a table with a decanter and two cut crystal glasses. “A drink?”
“A soda, if you have it.”
He smiled over one shoulder. “Of course. How was your trip?”
With a rueful laugh, Alexa gave him the short, funny version of her wrangled suitcase. “Everything is fine now.”
He handed her the soda and urged her to join him in front of the warm fire. Alexa hadn’t realized how cold her hands were until she leaned forward, holding them to the heat. She glanced at her host, noticing everything about him. Her heart thrummed. He had neat, strong looking hands, intensely blue eyes, and thick blond hair. The sharp angles of his face relaxed when he smiled at her.
She said, “Your home is lovely. Thank you for letting me stay here.”
“Thank you for agreeing to write my autobiography. I hope you won’t find it too boring.”
She laughed. “I doubt that.”
“The first concert of our tour is tomorrow night. I’d like for you to come. Of course, you’ll have a backstage pass.”
Her lips parted. “I’d love that.”
“Good. I thought you might enjoy it. And it will be good background for the book.”
“That will be perfect. I’ll also need to do research for the book. Do you have an hour free tomorrow morning?”
“I can carve out a few minutes. And I’ve got reams of newspaper clippings all in scrapbooks. My mother collected them. Photo albums, too.”
“Terrific.” Alexa sipped her drink and hoped she could ask Colin all of the questions she needed to in those few minutes tomorrow. Of course, she could ask a few questions tonight, too, to get started.
“Let me give you an idea of the schedule,” Colin said. “We’ll be in London through the end of this week, and then we’ll head to Paris. I’d like to leave the photo albums and earliest scrapbooks here.”
“I see I’ll have my work cut out for me.” She smiled.
“Enough work chat,” Colin said. “I’d like to learn more about you.”
Laughing, Alexa answered his many interested questions. She was flattered that he wanted to know so much about her. “But my life is boring compared to yours.”
“Nothing about you is boring, Alexa.” His eyes twinkled. “That’s why I asked you to come.”
“That, and the book, right?” she asked dryly.
He chuckled and she relaxed. He really did like her. He seemed to enjoy her sense of humor. And he was very down-to-earth. Not at all what she had thought a superstar would be like.
They ate supper together; two people at a long, empty table. The food was delicious, but Alexa felt funny sitting at the austere, highly polished table while people flitted in and out, bringing food and clearing away used dishes. She counted five different people serving just Colin and herself. It all felt very strange.
She forked up the last of her dessert—a delicious trifle. “Where does everyone else eat?”
“In the kitchen, and Mart and Jamison grab a bite when they can. Sometimes they eat with me, if I don’t have guests.”
“Oh.”
“You’re frowning.” He frowned a little, too, as if her opinion mattered to him. “You think I don’t let Jamison and Mart associate with guests? Actually, they work then. They’re always on guard, but most of all when other people are in the house.”
“Where are they now, then?”
“Mart’s out in the hall. Jamison’s in the control room. They’re the best.” He flicked a thumb up and threw a grin toward the ceiling. Alexa followed his gaze and saw a small, almost invisible dark lens buried there. “I wanted to eat alone with you tonight.”
“Thank you.” Uncomfortably aware now that the prickly Jamison’s eyes were watching her, she pressed her napkin to her mouth, and then lowered it again to her lap.
“I assume all went well when Jamison picked you up at the airport?” Colin said, sipping his wine.
Alexa cast a glance at the ceiling camera. “Uh…fine.”
“Jamison’s a man of few words. But he’s got a heart of gold.”
“Mmhm,” she
said noncommittally. “I didn’t know Jamison was an Italian name.”
“It’s not. His father is Italian, and he grew up in Italy, except for summers in America. His mother is Italian American. She liked the name Jamison. And Jethro—you know, from the Beverly Hillbillies?”
This inexplicably struck Alexa’s funny bone. Regrettably, she snorted in an unladylike manner. “His name is Jamison Jethro?”
“Jamison Jethro Constanzo.”
She lowered her head so Jamison couldn’t see her smile. “I see,” she said in a strangled voice.
Colin grinned. “I think he’ll kill me for telling you that.”
“Maybe he wasn’t listening. I certainly won’t tell him. We don’t exactly get along.” Then she bit her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have said that. “I mean…”
“I understand.” His blue eyes looked sharp and considering. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Colin changed the subject and spoke about the upcoming tour. It sounded like fun, although it came as a surprise they wouldn’t be staying in hotels. Alexa would get her own small apartment in each building where Colin would stay.
“Your flats are complete with a kitchen and all the necessities,” her host assured her. “Top of luxury. Perfect for your living and working comfort.” Apparently, he owned a penthouse in Paris. Alexa’s apartment would be a few floors down, and it was owned by a friend of his. In addition, he had arranged for prime accommodations in all of the other destinations, as well.
“They’re top-of-the-line flats,” he explained. “They offer daily maid service, laundry, and a gym. I prefer flats over hotels, for security is tighter. They cater only to a select clientele. On the other hand, my band likes the hotel nightlife.” He shrugged. “Whatever suits. I hope the accommodations are to your liking, Alexa.”
“I’m sure they’ll be wonderful,” she said. “Thank you so much. You’ll probably think I’m silly, but this all seems like a fairy tale to me.” Embarrassment warmed her cheeks then, for she remembered the testy bodyguard was listening in on their conversation. Probably that vapid comment had him laughing up his sleeve.
Her Reluctant Bodyguard Page 3
