Her Reluctant Bodyguard

by Jennette Green

  Alexa shot Jamison another glance. They did? She gave him a fleeting, albeit unwilling appraisal. His dark brows were straight, and his eyes intensely black. Besides a strong, uncompromisingly stubborn cast to his jaw and a small bump on his nose, which indicated it might have been broken once, his features were well-formed, she reluctantly admitted. In fact, he might even be considered handsome—if one wanted to look at him that way. Which she did not. Just as she did not want to be saddled with his presence for the entire tour.

  A feeling of doom overtook her, and she grasped for straws…for freedom from this undeserved prison sentence. “Don’t you need him to guard you?”

  “I have Mart, and I’ve hired another guard for me, plus others to police the concerts. I’ll be fine.”

  With a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, Alexa glanced at Jamison. His dark eyes regarded her steadily. He wasn’t afraid to be chained to her. In fact, was that a dare in the black depths? Instantly, she stiffened her spine. “I mean,” she said stiffly, “it will be fine. But not pleasant.” The understatement of all time!

  “Good,” Colin smiled. “Your luggage is already in your rooms. Here are your keys.” He pulled them from his pocket and dropped one into each of their hands. He lifted his glass. “Cheers.” And then he strolled away.

  Alexa gasped, unable to help herself, and glared at Jamison. “You’d better stay out of my space.”

  “Want me to buy tape and mark it down the middle of the flat?”

  Alexa curled her lip. “You are so childish. I just meant, you stay in your space, and I’ll stay in mine.”

  He put down his glass. “How about we go check out our quarters?”

  It was a challenge. Alexa finished her cola and did the same. “Fine. Let’s get the rules hashed out right now.”

  In silence, they rode down the elevator to the second floor. They walked side by side down the empty hall. Alexa felt extremely uncomfortable with him by her side. She could not believe that she would be forced to live with this man.

  Jamison stepped in front of her to open the door.

  “Excuse me, but do you have to be rude?” Alexa said. “I was here first.”

  He sent her an annoyed look. “I need to check the flat to make sure it’s safe. It’s my job.”

  She crossed her arms. “Oh. Well, go to it, then.”

  He turned unexpectedly and all at once he was too close, for she had crowded behind him, eager for a first peep into the room. Alarmed, she staggered back so fast her heel snagged on the carpet. Only his strong hand on her wrist stopped her flailing descent to the floor.

  He hauled her upright and pulled her within inches of him. Like in the kitchen late that one night, his potent masculinity accosted her, accelerating her pulse. The black gaze bored into hers. “Let’s get something straight right now, princess. I am not your servant. Don’t treat me like one.”

  She twisted her wrist, breaking his hold. An old judo self-defense move. Alexa struggled to regain her pride. “Touchy, aren’t you? Is that your short complex coming through again?”

  “Do you want to start an argument right now?”

  “Well, I don’t want you to carry me across the threshold, if that’s what you’re asking,” she returned sarcastically.

  He set his jaw. “Come in when I call you.”

  Of course, Alexa did no such thing. The instant he disappeared through the door, she slipped in behind him. She gasped at the sparkles of gold and shimmering cut glass dangling from a chandelier overhead. Colin had certainly spared no expense for this apartment. Or did it belong to one of his friends, too? Another pop star, perhaps, or an actress? No personal photos were displayed.

  Before her were a couch and armchair covered in striped sateen in muted rust, gold, and green shades. The predominant colors in the room were gold and light green. The coffee table looked to be mahogany, and a giant television covered the wall just to the right of the front door.

  Beyond the sitting room was a kitchen, complete with a large window overlooking the city, as well as cabinets, stove, sink, and a small refrigerator. A gleaming dining table was situated to the left, near a door into which Jamison had disappeared. Alexa guessed it was one of the bedrooms. She spotted a matching door on her right.

  She prowled through the large, airy room, gently touching vases painted in fine oriental designs, as Jamison crossed to check the other bedroom. In the kitchen, she was pleased to discover that the refrigerator and freezer were full, including frozen pizzas, frozen dinners, and various drinks. Chips, along with canned and boxed goodies, filled the shelves.

  “Look at this!” she breathed.

  “What?”

  She felt Jamison’s presence behind her, but forgot to be annoyed with him in the wonder of her discovery. “Look at all the food!”

  “Hungry already?” he wanted to know.

  Alexa rolled her eyes. She said with exaggerated patience, “Is this normal? Does Colin always stock his flats with food?”

  “Yes.” Jamison opened the refrigerator to investigate. “Doesn’t look like we’ll starve.”

  Unease slid through Alexa at the “we” reference. “Do you mean to say we’ll eat here together?”

  “Unless you can afford to go out every night. I can’t.” He pulled a bottled water from the refrigerator.

  “Hmph.” Alexa didn’t know what to say to this. Next, she investigated the bedrooms, and discovered each had an attached bath. Her luggage had been placed in the room to the right of the front door as she had come in. She returned to the living area. Jamison was nowhere to be seen.

  So she crossed to poke her head into his room. He had just unzipped a giant suitcase—black, of course—and draped a clump of black, button down shirts on the bed. Some looked to be made of cotton, others of a silkier material.

  “Are you color blind?” she wanted to know.

  He glanced up. “You’re here to help me unpack?”

  “Of course not!” Alexa felt embarrassed, but didn’t retreat. “We need to hash out rules so we can live in peace.”

  He pulled out a pile of black pants. Some jeans, some slacks.

  “Would you stop that?” she demanded. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

  “I can’t unpack at the same time?”

  Alexa gritted her teeth. “I have no desire to see any of your black…unmentionables.”

  An actual smile curled his lips, and he stopped pulling items from his suitcase. “Then wait in the sitting area. I’ll be five minutes.”

  Alexa narrowed her eyes. She didn’t want to stay here, but she didn’t want to retreat, either. And she wanted to assert her rules first—before the bodyguard had a chance to make a power grab. “I’ll make it snappy,” she said, averting her eyes as he pulled smaller black items from the suitcase and tucked them in the dresser. “I have one rule. You leave me alone, and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Fine.” Jamison pulled a thick book from the bottomless suitcase and placed it on the bedside table. What was that? War and Peace? Certainly appropriate for their living situation.

  “Well then,” Alexa said, pleased. “I’ll leave you to sort your outfits by color. I’m never sure—does black silk go with black cotton?” With this saucy comment, which likely sailed right over his unfashionable head, she turned to leave.

  “I have a rule.”

  Alexa turned back. She should have known her triumph had been too easy.

  “You don’t leave this apartment without me.”

  Alexa fell silent for one long beat, absorbing the full, horrifying implications of his statement. “Excuse me? I’m supposed to be chained to you night and day?”

  “That’s what twenty-four/seven means.” He flipped the suitcase shut. The rasp of the zipper sounded like machine gun fire in the suddenly silent room. “If you want to run the stairs, I go with you. If you want to shop, I go with you. If you want to sight-see, I go with you. Think of me as your shadow.”

  “Hence th
e black,” she said sarcastically. But further words evaded her. A sick feeling dropped into the pit of her stomach. She and Jamison, joined at the hip for almost five weeks? They couldn’t breathe the same air without fighting! Her fairy tale had officially transformed into a nightmare. She muttered, “We’re going to kill each other.”

  “I promise I won’t kill you, princess. It’s not in my job description.” How could he look so amused?

  Alexa growled under her breath. “How about we don’t speak? I think you had the right idea at church.”

  “Fine with me.”

  “Good.” Alexa stalked to her room. How, oh how could she possibly make this situation work? Besides hiding out in her room all day?

  As if she would. This was Paris! Alexa had dreamed of visiting ever since high school. Back then, she had envied her French Club friends who had been able to afford the trip to France during spring break of her senior year. Unfortunately, her parents had been going through an awful divorce then. They couldn’t afford it. Now Alexa wanted to scour Paris. She wanted to visit every single café, historical landmark, tiny bookshop…well, maybe not every one. But at least she would carve out as much time as she could. After all, the book was her first priority.

  Unfortunately, her bodyguard would go with her. This prospect darkened the allure of exploring the romantic city. Maybe Jamison would follow two steps behind her, so she wouldn’t have see him. No. Mentally, she chastised herself for even thinking such a terrible thing. Wasn’t she supposed to love her enemies? She wasn’t doing a very good job.

  “Rrrr.” Alexa threw herself onto the wide, luxurious bed. She had arrived in paradise, but was chained to the hound of hell.

      

  After the brief moment of frustration, Alexa felt calmer. She unpacked, marveling at the lushness of her bedroom. She explored the bath, which included a huge, claw-footed tub, thick, soft white towels, and bottles of shampoo and lotion. She smeared the peach lotion on her hands. Yum. Sweet and fruity. She even discovered a miniature sewing kit. If only she knew how to sew, that would be helpful.

  Just like in the main living room, the furniture in her room was made of ornate, curved wood and smooth, silky fabrics, accented in gold. When Alexa fleetingly forgot about the black knight in the scenario, she discovered that she still felt like a princess living in a fairy tale.

  She frowned. But not the kind of princess Jamison had labeled her—haughty and snotty. What did he know? Furthermore, what did she care?

  She did, because she didn’t like anyone—even Jamison—thinking ill of her. Clearly, though, her attitude toward him left much to be desired. Why did she keep reverting to snappy, tart comebacks with him?

  Because he was obnoxious!

  Maybe that was part of the reason. Disturbingly, he burrowed under her skin like no one else ever had. But did that matter? Wasn’t it time for her to act like the adult? Five weeks was a long time to wage war in a small apartment.

  For long, silent moments, Alexa prayed for help with dealing with her exasperating bodyguard. Then she drew a fortifying breath and headed for the kitchen to retrieve a soda.

  Like a shadow, Jamison melted from the kitchen to the living room and settled on the sofa. Good, he was following the rule. Her rule. Maybe at this rate they could actually cohabitate. As long as he stayed out of her space, all would be well. …And as long as she controlled her unruly tongue, too.

  Alexa spent the rest of the afternoon working on the manuscript. It would take at least three weeks to go through all of Colin’s scrapbooks and add the most important, interesting bits to the book. She would have to wrest the remaining scrapbooks from Eve tomorrow. Not to mention setting up an appointment with Colin. She needed more stories from him.

  How much time would Colin be able to spend with her? Her heart sped up, imagining the candlelit dinner he had promised in the penthouse. Well, had he actually promised candlelight? But an intimate dinner with Colin, looking out on the sparkling lights of Paris… How could it be anything but romantic?

  Reality nipped in, then. If last week was any indication, she may not get as much time as she would like with Colin. Maybe not even the dinner. She would have to plan extra opportunities to get the material needed for the book. A side benefit would be enjoying his intoxicating company. Alexa sighed, and it sounded dreamy, even to her. But who cared? She was living a fantasy. Why not enjoy it?

  At dinner time, Alexa smelled pizza baking. Her mouth watered. Had Jamison made enough to share? Or would she be expected to bake her own?

  She slipped out to the kitchen. One-third of a pizza rested on the counter, fresh from the oven. More saliva dripped into her mouth. Obviously, Jamison had pulled it from the freezer and baked it.

  She looked over her shoulder at the back of his black head, where he sat on the couch, watching the news.

  “Umm.” She cleared her throat. “Can I have some? Pizza, I mean.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Thank you.” Alexa ignored his acerbic response and greedily pulled two thick slices onto a plate. One piece remained.

  Where should she eat? She paused uncertainly. Not in her room. That seemed too antisocial, even for the rule. But at the same time, she didn’t want to sit next to Jamison on the sofa, either. She elected for the table situated near the wall between the kitchen and sitting room areas.

  Yummy! Cheesy with the works. Alexa inhaled her two pieces, and then returned to the counter for the last piece; unfortunately, at the same time Jamison arrived. He stopped a good distance from her.

  Alexa could take the last piece. She read it in his deferential, but at the same time hostile, stance that he would let her. All the same, she lifted the piece and offered it to him, crust snared between her thumb and forefinger. The end drooped toward the floor. “Want it?”

  “If you don’t.”

  “We could share.”

  His black gaze traveled from her to the pizza. “You’re going to lose it.”

  “Lose what?”

  In one lightening lunge, he whipped his plate forward and caught the top half of the pizza, toppings and all, on his plate.

  “Oops,” Alexa said. “Good save.”

  “I’ll take this half.”

  Alexa gaped. She was left with the crust, complete with a doughy textured, red dimpled top. “That’s not fair.”

  “You offered half. I’m accepting.” He returned to the living room.

  Alexa stared after him, not believing her ears. The black-hearted devil! The selfish weasel. She had a good mind to snatch it away from him.

  Her better half said it wouldn’t bode well for their cohabitating relations. And what about her resolution to change her behavior?

  Her evil half didn’t care. She marched into the living room, naked crust and all, and snatched the delectable slab of cheesy goodness right out of his hands. He had been about to take a bite. His white teeth snapped shut and he stared up at her, startled.

  “You pig!” she cried, ripping his half in half. “I won’t let you get away with that.” She tore her own crust in half and deposited half of each on his plate. Her hands were red and messy and greasy, but she didn’t care. She slapped her two halves together and took a bite, glaring at him the whole while.

  He deliberately wiped his hands on a paper napkin and stood, forcing her to back up. Much as her attitude had been in-his-face a moment ago, she didn’t literally want to be in his face. Or anywhere near him, for that matter.

  He stepped toward her, and she took another step back, chewing furiously. He took another step and she stumbled backward, off the lip of the area rug. “What are you doing?” she mumbled, mouth full.

  “Uncomfortable, princess?” She felt the heat of his words.

  She finally swallowed. “Don’t pull any macho man attitude on me,” she warned, glaring down at him. “I’m not scared of little people.” Although Alexa instantly regretted the rude words, it was too late to retract them.

  His da
rk eyes blackened, and leashed anger radiated. “Don’t test me, princess.”

  “I’m sorry.” She bit her lip. “But don’t test me. You were rude and selfish. I don’t have to stand for that.”

  Was that a glimmer of a smile? Couldn’t be. “You’re right.”

  Alexa was not sure how to respond to this turnaround.

  He handed her his plate. “Take mine.”

  Her food had suddenly hit bottom, and she felt full now. “Thank you, but I don’t want it. It’s yours. Or are you afraid of getting my cooties?”

  He smiled. It was the first one he had ever given her, and it did wonders for his face. The dark eyes lightened to brown, and laugh lines crinkled from the corners. “Cooties don’t scare me.” In fact, Alexa got the feeling nothing scared him.

  She backed away with a mumbled, “Good.” Alexa returned to the kitchen, where she searched for the trash bin. She found it under the sink.

  “You’re going to throw out perfectly good pizza?” he sounded incredulous, now, behind her.

  “Do you want it?”

  “Absolutely.”

  She scraped the mangled pizza from her plate into an unattractive clump on his. “There you go.”

  “Next time give me the extra slice.”

  She narrowed her eyes. Of course, the brief truce had been too good to last. More regrettable, impulsive words sped out. “You’re obnoxious, did you know that? I thought bodyguards were supposed to be quiet and unassuming. You know, seen and not heard?”

  “Don’t count on it, princess.” With that exertion of manly obnoxiousness, he returned to the couch. Alexa rolled her eyes to the heavens. Why had she been saddled with that recalcitrant man? If this latest confrontation was any indication, the days ahead would prove far from smooth, rule or no rule.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, Alexa dialed the number for the penthouse and pressed the gold metal receiver to her ear.

  “Colin Radcliff’s office.” Definitely Eve’s frosty voice.

  “Hi, Eve. It’s Alexa. I need the other scrapbooks. When can I come get them?”