“Colin’s out, so now would be fine. Bring the other scrapbook with you.”
Alexa frowned. What did that mean—“Colin’s out, so now would be fine”? Clearly, the secretary desired to keep Alexa and Colin apart. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Gathering up the scrapbook, Alexa slipped out of her room and headed for the door. Mart sat on the couch, watching television. Somehow, the giant man looked totally out of place on the fancy furniture. Alexa slowed down. “Where’s my favorite bodyguard?”
Mart cast her a grin. “You mean I’m not?”
She grinned back. “Actually, you are. But where’s Jamison?”
“Working out in the gym downstairs. Colin is, too. So I get to baby-sit you.”
“Would you come with me to the penthouse?”
He hefted his bulk up off the couch. “That’s my job.”
Upstairs, Eve peered suspiciously through the cracked door of the penthouse. This morning she wore fashionable, silver-rimmed glasses.
“It’s just us,” Mart rumbled. “Open up, kid.”
Eve frowned and snatched the scrapbook from Alexa at the first opportunity. “The others are over there.” She pointed.
Alexa was vaguely surprised that Eve didn’t want to dole out the remaining seven scrapbooks, one at a time. But then again, that would mean more trips for Alexa to the penthouse. Apparently, Eve wanted to avoid that scenario at all costs.
Alexa still couldn’t figure out why Eve was so possessive of Colin. Was it because she was fanatically devoted to her job, or because she was in love with her boss? Either way, she made Alexa feel uncomfortable. “I also need to set up an appointment with Colin.”
“I can answer all of your questions.”
“I’m sorry, but you can’t. I need stories from Colin, told from his perspective.”
Eve’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Huffiness will get you nowhere. Colin is busy. If you want help, you’ll have to come through me.”
Mart spoke with a thread of laughter in his Texas drawl, “Ease up, Eve. Alexa’s doing her job, just like you.”
Eve sent Mart a freezing glance. “I don’t tell you how to do your job, Martin. Don’t tell me how to do mine.”
Mart’s eyebrows climbed. He lifted his arms in mock surrender. “Whoa, Nelly.”
Eve turned her glare upon Alexa, apparently unaware she had just been likened to a horse. “Colin…is…very…busy,” she enunciated. “Sometimes fans don’t get that.”
“I have a book to write, Eve. Either help me, or I’ll go over your head and deal with Colin directly. But I won’t stand here and be attacked.”
Eve’s eyes narrowed to feral slits. “Don’t threaten me, hussy. I’ve seen plenty of your kind. All you want is to rip your claws into Colin and eat his heart out. Well, you’ll have to go through me, first.”
Was Eve serious? “I don’t want to sink my claws into Colin. I want to write my book. I’m under contract, and I have less than five weeks left. Now, either help me, or give me Colin’s cell phone number.”
“I will not!” Eve gasped.
“Then Mart will, won’t you, Mart?” Alexa turned to the huge bodyguard.
“Well…” He looked from one woman to the other, and then appealed to Eve, “Alexa can ask Colin for it. Maybe you should cooperate.”
With one tight movement, Eve spun and marched for the desk. She flipped through a bound volume; apparently Colin’s appointment book. “He has an opening Thursday at two o’clock.”
That was halfway through their stay in Paris. Alexa would have to work on the scrapbooks in the meantime, and work up a general outline for Colin to approve. “Fine. Pencil me in for the whole hour.”
Eve scratched in the book with short, angry strokes. “Done. Now leave.”
This was ridiculous. Alexa felt things had gotten completely out of hand with the secretary. Doubtless she would need Eve’s help in the future to make further appointments, or to ask questions. “Look,” she said. “It’s true I like Colin, but I have no intention of hurting him. In fact, I’ve already told him I’m not interested in a fling.”
“What?” Eve crossed her arms, clearly disbelieving.
“It’s true. Ask him.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not interested in Colin. Every breathing woman on the planet is interested in Colin.”
“That might be a stretch. But yes, I think he’s attractive. Don’t you?”
Eve flushed. “This is not about me.”
“Isn’t it? You’re awfully protective of him. You must care for him very much.”
Eve turned away. “He’s my boss. It’s my job to care for him.”
“Then you want what’s best for him,” Alexa persisted.
“Of course.”
“Then help him. We’ve both signed a contract with the publisher. He needs this book done on time just as much as I do.”
The secretary gnawed her lip. “I’ll speak to him,” she said finally. “And if what you say is true, then of course I’ll…help you, as much as possible.” Obviously, the last had been forced out at great cost.
“Thank you. I appreciate your help, Eve.” Beth would be so proud of her hard won, tactful words. Alexa turned to the bodyguard. “Mart, would you please help me carry these scrapbooks downstairs?”
“Be happy to. Later, Eve.”
They left the thin secretary staring after them, sweater wrapped tightly around herself. Alexa actually felt sorry for the other woman. Clearly, she felt threatened and worried…and maybe even confused about the right thing to do for her boss. Hopefully, Colin would help her to see reason.
Late that afternoon, the phone rang. Alexa snatched it up. “Hello?”
“Alexa, love. It’s Colin.” As if that crisp, British voice could belong to anyone else.
“Hi, Colin!” Why did she sound so breathless? She sounded like a ninny.
“Eve told me about our appointment on Thursday. Sounds perfect. But I’d also like to invite you to dinner on Sunday night. I thought I’d better strike before your social calendar is booked up.”
“I don’t exactly have a swinging life, Colin,” Alexa laughed.
“I’m sure you could if you wanted to.”
His compliment warmed her heart. “Thanks, but I’m more of a one man woman.”
“Good.” His pleased voice notched down. “I hope I am that man?”
Alexa laughed. “You are as far as the book is concerned. As far as anything else…we’ll just have to see.”
“I look forward to the discovery process.”
Goodness, he was smooth! Her cheeks warmed and she was glad he wasn’t there to witness it. She also didn’t know how to reply. “Thank you,” she mumbled.
He laughed softly. “Eight-thirty, then? At the penthouse, like I promised. I have an interview at six.”
“Thank you, Colin. It sounds wonderful.”
“All else is well, then?”
“The book is fine…”
“Terrific. Also, Alexa, while you’re here, take time to visit the Musée du Louvre. It’s one of my favorite sights in Paris. Jamison will take you.”
“I will. I’m thinking I’ll go tomorrow afternoon.”
“Terrific. I’ve got to ring off, but I’ll see you Thursday?”
Alexa smiled. “See you then. ’Bye.”
She sighed with pleasure at the thought of spending time with Colin on Thursday, and then for dinner Sunday night in the penthouse. She put her chin in her hand and daydreamed about the upcoming romantic night.
The next morning, Alexa awoke early and decided to resume her workout routine. Even better, Mart would accompany her—not Jamison.
So far, Jamison had been beautifully following the rule. In fact, all day yesterday he had appeared to take great pains to ignore her. Exactly what she wanted, she told herself. She didn’t care that he clearly preferred not to speak to her.
No
w, clad in her workout clothes, Alexa hurried into the living room. Mart, as she had hoped, sat kicked back on the sofa, watching television.
“Good morning!” she called cheerily. “I’m going to run the stairs. Want to come with me?”
“Guess I don’t have much choice.” Mart rolled to his feet.
In the stairwell Alexa took off, pounding up the stairs, one flight, then two. She heard Mart puffing behind her. Then she spun and headed back down.
On her apartment floor level, she spotted Jamison trotting upstairs. He wore a black T-shirt and black shorts, and carried a bag in one hand. Alexa caught the scent of fresh baked bread.
Mart panted, “Jamison, buddy, you assigned me a.m. duty on purpose, didn’t you?”
Her bodyguard grinned. “You need a cardio workout, Mart.”
“No, man. You take over. I’ll take the food inside.”
Jamison cast Alexa a glance. “Fine. But this is your only reprieve, friend. I still need to work out.”
“Whatever, buddy. Just save me now.”
Alexa frowned and sprinted back upstairs, not waiting for her clearly unwilling bodyguard to join her. She ran as hard and as fast as she could, but still, she heard his footsteps gaining on her. No panting, either, like Mart had done. No, just silent, swift footsteps.
She pushed herself to run up three flights, then four. Jamison was right on her heels when a sharp pain pierced her chest. She struggled not to gasp too loudly, and spun and headed back down. Jamison, to her chagrin, wasn’t breathing hard at all, and dogged her heels all the way down. She struggled to ignore him, and thankfully regained her breath by the time she reached her own floor again.
Alexa ran the stairs three more times, and by then perspiration ran in rivulets between her breasts and she felt sticky and icky, and couldn’t hide her sharp, panting breaths. She cast Jamison a quick glance. To her satisfaction, sweat darkened his shirt and shone on his brow. His muscular chest heaved a little, too.
Alexa threw him an impertinent grin. “Too much of a workout for you?”
He actually smiled. “Go easy on Mart. Run up and down one flight. Then he can watch you from the landing when he gets tired.”
“Sure. I’m happy to do whatever I can to help Mart.”
“But you won’t make things easy on me, will you?”
She met the unwavering challenge in the dark gaze. “Not a chance. By the way, where did you get the bread?”
“A street not far from here. Rue Cler.”
“Is it a market?” Alexa had been thinking of items she would like to buy to add to the kitchen goodies. Like muffins or fruit. Maybe more cheese.
“The street is an open-air market with shops, too.”
“Hmm.” She reached for the door handle to enter the hall.
His hand closed over hers. “I’ll go first.”
Alexa snatched her hand free of his disturbing warmth. “Aren’t you courteous. Don’t you know ladies are supposed to go first?”
“Chivalry has nothing to do with it. It’s my job.” He edged his shoulder between her and the open doorway and surveyed the hall. Then he stepped back and held the door open. “After you.”
Alexa was positive she didn’t imagine the sarcastic curl to his lips. She gave him a narrow-eyed look. “Your manners astound me.”
“At least something about me astounds you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means, princess, I know I’m beneath your notice. And believe me, I like it that way.”
“Well then, don’t worry. You won’t have to endure anymore of my praise.” She shoved her key in the lock to their flat, eager to escape his presence. She knew he’d leave now to work out in the gym downstairs. Thank goodness.
“Later,” she mumbled, slipping into the apartment.
As the door closed, he murmured, “Ciao, princess.”
Alexa hurried to the kitchen to sample a pinch of the bread before resuming her workout. Pure ambrosia! She sighed. Unfortunately, it didn’t soothe her disturbed nerves. Maybe two pieces with butter later would do it.
Or not, if Jamison had returned by then.
After exercising and a quick breakfast, Alexa worked hard for the remainder of the morning, transcribing her recording of Colin’s stories, and then she began to skim through the remaining scrapbooks in order to flesh out her potential outline. She wanted to spend the afternoon exploring Paris. Then it occurred to her that she would need to notify Jamison, since he would need to accompany her.
Jamison sat on the couch munching chips when she exited from her room at 11:30 a.m. The maid was just leaving, and Alexa discovered that she had left more supplies, including milk, pizza, cheddar cheese, and vegetables. As Alexa prepared a tuna sandwich, she announced to the back of Jamison’s head, “I’m going out this afternoon.”
“Are you requesting my company?”
Alexa rolled her eyes. “Do I have a choice? I’m telling you, so you can prepare yourself.”
“Can I prepare myself for an afternoon with you?”
“I can’t wait to spend time with you, either,” she said sweetly.
“Where to?”
“I want to check out that Rue Cler you told me about. And I’d like to go to the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. Notre-Dame Cathedral, too, if we have time.”
Jamison glanced at his watch. “We’d better leave soon, then.”
Of course she knew that. Wisely, though, she curbed her tongue.
Alexa decided to visit Rue Cler first. Luckily, it wasn’t far. As they walked, she relished the perfect weather—clear blue skies, and a stiff breeze. It was a little chilly, but fine with her sweater on. After a few minutes, Jamison turned down a picturesque cobblestone street. No cars were allowed there. Little shops had newspapers, crates of fruits and vegetables, and other items on display outside. Alexa spied a wine shop, a fromage shop with wedges and cylinders of all sorts of delicious looking cheese, and a butcher’s shop. Later, maybe she would come back and buy some Swiss cheese. She preferred it to the cheddar the maid had left.
The people shopping on the street looked like true Parisians—a man in shirtsleeves wore a beret, and several women carried cloth shopping bags. They spoke rapid French. It felt like an authentic neighborhood in old Paris. Alexa loved it.
She struggled to ignore Jamison, walking at her side; the only dark blot on her horizon. Why, oh why did Colin have to assign him as her bodyguard? Colin knew how well she got along with Mart. Wouldn’t it have made more sense to pair her up with him? Mart would have been a far more enjoyable companion for her long anticipated tour of Paris, that was for sure.
Alexa negotiated the cobbles as best she could, but her high heels slipped and her ankles twisted every few steps. She couldn’t wait to see the Louvre later, too. Colin had raved about it.
Thinking about Colin temporarily made her forget Jamison, walking by her side. Until he unfortunately spoke. “Why did you wear those ridiculous shoes?”
Alexa frowned. She had vowed to control her tongue today. “I like them. You hate them because they make you look shorter.”
“Isn’t that why you wear them?”
Alexa ignored this, mostly because it was true. She wasn’t proud of the fact. But she did love high heels. She always had. Sweetly, she asked, “Is it hard on your ego to be shorter than the woman you’re with?”
His only reaction was a tightened jaw. “You look like a fool tripping over the cobbles.”
Alexa did not want to admit that he was right. “I’m fine, can’t you see?” she said haughtily. She walked a little faster. “In fact, why don’t you keep up?”
Suddenly, her heel skidded and she stumbled. Pride goes before destruction—wasn’t that what Proverbs said? Chagrinned, she grabbed at his shoulder for support. It was surprisingly sturdy. In fact, she was shocked to discover the casual, button-down black shirt he wore concealed thick, hard muscles.
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She flushed, and quickly removed her hand the moment she regained her balance. Then she told herself, Of course he has muscles. Wasn’t he a bodyguard? He worked out every morning. What did she expect? It was just that he was usually so quiet and unassuming on duty. Like he wanted to melt into the background. And yet Alexa could never ignore him. The tightly leashed force of his personality always grabbed her attention, over and over again, like a red flag.
“Now will you admit it?” Was that a small smile? It was! He was laughing at her.
Alexa flushed hotter, hating that she blushed so easily. She scowled. “Come on. I see a shoe store.” She had spotted one down a side street.
“Your wish is my command, princess.”
“Would you please stop calling me that!”
With Jamison hovering against the wall inside the store, Alexa found a pair of flats that matched her outfit. She preferred not to wear flats with a skirt, but that couldn’t be helped. What she really wished was that she had worn jeans and sneakers.
Why hadn’t she? Because she felt fashion conscious in the city of Paris? Or because she got a perverse pleasure from towering over Jamison, like he had accused? Both, most likely, she reluctantly admitted. What was wrong with her? She had never behaved like this with anyone else in her entire life. It disturbed her. And yet Jamison seemed to enjoy—no, deliberately encourage—the prickly side of their relationship. Why? More importantly, why did she enjoy responding in kind?
As Alexa wiggled her toes in the shoes, she pondered the question for another minute. In grade school, she had enjoyed a light, joking relationship with Ben, an old friend of hers. Although the verbal fencing with Jamison was similar, it also felt far more complicated. Was it Jamison’s way to keep her at arm’s length? Or was it his complex, male way of saying he liked her—a little—even though he may not want to? This idea surprised her. In that case, what did that say about her, since she relished their adversarial banter, too?
Alexa closed her mind to the topic. She was getting too philosophical, and seeing more meaning in flats vs. high heels than need be.
Her Reluctant Bodyguard Page 9
