His eyes gleamed. “Don’t lie to yourself, princess. I’m no Don Juan, and you know it. But you’re afraid of me because you respond to me, and that scares you to death.”
“Bull,” she said crudely. “I wasn’t the one who pulled away from that kiss.”
“No. Because for one minute you stopped thinking.”
Outrage scorched her. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“Do yourself a favor, Alexa. Tell yourself the truth. And until you do, stop playing games with Colin and me. We deserve better.”
“I am not playing games, you horrible man!” Tears blurred her eyes. “I’m trying to be careful. I’m trying to make the right decisions, but I don’t know what they are!”
“What happened to you?”
She stared at him, furious, and at a loss for words.
“You said last night that you were hurt.” He spoke in a gentler tone, but Alexa wasn’t fooled. He wanted answers, and he was playing for keeps. “Who hurt you? How did it happen?”
She bit her lip. “It’s none of your business.”
“I want to understand. Tell me, Alexa.”
She heaved a breath. Maybe if she told him, he’d leave her alone. “I met a guy when I was a sophomore in college.” And then she decided to go for the whole truth—for herself, more than for Jamison. “Actually, I’ll go back.” These memories were old. In fact, until this minute, they had been shut away and almost forgotten.
“I walled myself off when I was a kid,” Alexa said quietly. “All the fighting in the house scared me. I felt alone. I knew my parents loved me, but I didn’t feel it. In fact, although it sounds strange, I didn’t want to feel it and I was afraid to give it back. In my mind, love hurt. They hurt each other, and I didn’t trust them not to hurt me, too. So my heart closed off—self protection, I guess—and I basically ended up bottling up all of the love inside of me. I wanted to hide it and protect it. I didn’t realize until later that a wall built up inside me, thicker and thicker over the years.” She stared into space. “My parents were clueless.”
“You bottled up all the love in your heart.”
“Yes.” She licked her lips. “I said someday I’d give it to someone. Someday I’d find someone I could truly love and trust, and then I’d be whole again.” Alexa had never told anyone this before.
Concern drew Jamison’s brows together. “And so you met this guy.”
“Yes. Paul. I thought he was the one.” Tears blurred her eyes. “I loved him. And he said he loved me, too. He said and did all the right things. He thought I was beautiful, and he told me how lucky he was that he’d found me. I believed him, and I gave my whole heart to him, thinking everything would work out like a fairy tale.”
Jamison waited patiently. Sadness lurked in his bleak gaze, and that encouraged her to go on. She whispered, “He said if I truly loved him, I would…you know, be intimate with him.” She bit her lip. “So I was. This was before I became a Christian. Things with Paul stayed okay for a few weeks, but then I felt him drawing away from me. He said he only felt friendship for me. Two days later, he went out with another pretty girl. It hurt.” Her voice broke. “It took a long time to put the pieces back together.”
She breathed slowly. “Since then, other men have been attracted to me, but they never wanted to know the real me. I’m like an object, or a trophy they can show their friends… But I never trusted any of them.”
Alexa turned away. Of course, she had never shown her true heart to any of those men, either, she realized now. So maybe that was why those relationships had stayed superficial.
Whatever the case, she had refused to open up her heart to them. That was the real problem, she realized for the first time. She was afraid of exposing her heart and soul because she was afraid of getting hurt. Alexa believed Colin liked her, but she didn’t trust him completely—not yet. Besides that, she didn’t know what she felt for Colin. Jamison’s fire and vitality, on the other hand, scared her. She felt the strong, terrifying attraction between them. Here was a man who, if she allowed him, would possess the power to utterly devastate her.
Jamison’s warm hand curled around her arm, forcing her to look at him. “I’m sorry he hurt you.”
“Me, too.”
“And so you have your criteria.”
“Yes. They’ve worked well so far.”
“Because they eliminate ninety-five percent of the male population.”
Alexa frowned again. “You don’t let up, do you? Don’t sneer—they’ve worked. Every man I’ve dated in the last few years has been nice.”
“Nice. Is that how you see Colin?”
“Yes. Unlike you!”
“Why haven’t you married any of these acceptable, nice men?”
“You’re awfully nosy, do you know that? Why haven’t you married? Why are you so obnoxious?”
He smiled. “It’s part of my charm, princess.”
“You’ve got walls, too. Someday I’ll see them come down,” she threatened.
He moved toward the door. “If you can do that, I will be in serious trouble.”
“Run scared, then,” she accused. But she was relieved he was finally leaving. She wasn’t sure if she should have revealed all of those secrets to him. But when Jamison wanted something, she had just learned he’d push until he got it. Best to put him on the defensive for awhile, in order to protect herself.
She said, “I know where you live. Confidences are a two-way street, you know.”
“When you’re ready to be serious, I’ll give you everything you want.” And then he was gone.
Alexa stared after him. What in the world had he meant by that? Then she told herself she didn’t want to know.
Jamison was a dangerous man. Time to put back on her prickly armor, or she would be the one in serious trouble.
Chapter Fourteen
Alexa wasn’t surprised to find Mart in the living room the next morning. After all, Jamison was supposed to help Paddy get everything rolling for the move. Again, she wondered if Colin’s manager might be behind the attacks in Barcelona. How would she ever know? Worse, would the deranged stalker strike again in Rome?
Alexa packed up, and soon boarded the Lear jet Colin had sent to fly them to Rome. She buckled her seatbelt and gazed out at the high, distant hills, and pieces of Barcelona’s skyline. Someday I’ll come back, she promised silently. Someday I’ll explore every one of your streets and tourist attractions. Although, thanks to Jamison, she had already seen so much.
The object of her contemplation strolled by, checking on everyone. Jamison glanced at her. “You okay?”
She grinned. “Just peachy.”
He frowned a little, but moved on.
Alexa had allowed him to get too close last night. He had burrowed under her skin, and she had given him a glimpse of her deepest fears. No man had the right to get that close. Certainly not Jamison. Today she planned to be pleasant and friendly to him. However, if he tried to push too close, she’d need to put up a prickly wall.
Alexa gazed out the window again, but saw nothing. Last night’s conversation continued to replay through her mind.
She was afraid to love. For the first time, Alexa admitted this truth, and even understood why. Thanks to her pushy bodyguard. As a child, she had closed off her heart to love. She had tried to protect it from the verbal assaults her parents had unleashed upon each other. Now, for the first time, she understood how those harsh words had flayed into her own soul, too, and made her afraid to trust. To love.
And then there was Paul. By the time she had met him, she had been starved for love. She had given him her entire heart, soul, and body. How desperately she had wanted the happily-ever-after her parents had never had. And then he had quietly turned and rejected her. No screaming fights had heralded the end of their relationship. Just indifference.
Paul’s rejection had devastated Alexa. She had missed him horribly, but worse, she had felt unworthy, and feared something must be
terribly wrong with her. She had given him everything she was, and he had not wanted any of it. Later, she had realized that Paul had been physically attracted to her, but after she had surrendered her body to him, his interest had quickly waned. He hadn’t cared about the real person she was inside. …Or maybe he hadn’t liked the person he had seen.
Blinking back tears, Alexa stared out the window. Although the old pain had dulled, it still hurt.
So, after all of these years, she was still petrified to love. As much as she hungered for it, she was afraid to try again.
A verse—one of her favorites, from 2 Timothy 1:7—whispered through her mind. “For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” NKJV™
Lord, please heal me. Help me to trust and not be afraid. Help me to know who the right man is for me, and give me the courage to give him my heart.
In Rome, Alexa rubbernecked all the way to the newest apartment building. She couldn’t wait to explore. She had already decided to take all day Wednesday to sightsee. By then, Jamison should be finished with his set up duties. Much as it might be unwise to spend time with him, he was Italian, and doubtless could help her sightsee more efficiently than Mart could.
The layout of the flat was much the same as the other two luxury buildings. This one had thick carpets, and floor-to-ceiling windows along the back wall of the tiny kitchenette and the dining nook. Fresh flowers adorned most available surfaces, including her bedside table. It smelled heavenly, like a florist’s shop.
A sliding door, covered by sea foam colored, filmy drapes led off her bedroom and afforded a fabulous view of Rome. Alexa leaned on the rail and gazed over the ancient, yet modern city. She saw dome-topped old buildings crowned with spires, and thought she spied the Colosseum in the distance, but wasn’t sure. To her left, another balcony jutted out—Jamison’s, she was sure—and to her right, another room’s balcony adjoined hers, although with a partial wall barrier.
Alexa retreated inside and unpacked. It was already late afternoon, and she wanted to start transcribing the clips she had recorded. She would work hard all day tomorrow, too. That way she wouldn’t feel guilty about taking a whole day off to sightsee. Of course, it might be nice if she asked Jamison first if he would be available.
Alexa was perusing the freezer for dinner choices when the lock clicked and Jamison made his first appearance in the apartment.
“Hey, bud,” Mart said, standing. He flicked two fingers to Alexa. “Later.”
“’Bye, Mart. Thanks,” she said.
While Mart disappeared, Jamison rolled his giant black suitcase, still near the door, toward his room. He looked tired.
“Hard day?”
Jamison looked at her. “I’m not ready to fight yet, princess.”
Alexa frowned. Fine. He could be irritable. She had plenty of things to occupy her attention.
She microwaved a meal and ate it at the glossy, hardwood dining table, enjoying the view. Jamison still hadn’t emerged when she finished, so she retreated to her room to write.
By eight o’clock, she had had enough. Alexa was bored. She peeked into the sitting area, and then the kitchen. Aha. Jamison had just pulled a meal from the microwave.
She waited for him to sit, and then zoomed over to join him. Alexa felt a regrettable, swelling urge to make trouble, but struggled to control herself. “So, what does your day look like tomorrow?” She fixed a pleasant smile upon her face.
Jamison sent her a tired, suspicious look. “We’ll set up most of the day.”
“What about Wednesday?”
The black gaze rested on her. “Back to baby-sitting duty.”
Alexa shoved aside a prickle of annoyance. “Good. If you’re game, I’d like you to show me the town.”
“Tour guide again?” He couldn’t sound less enthusiastic.
Hurt jabbed. “Yes, please. If it won’t strain you too terribly.”
“Fine.” He continued to eat his meal.
Long seconds of silence ticked by. “Awful chatty, aren’t you?”
“You ready to talk? Somehow I doubt it.”
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
He looked at her. “You want to play games. I don’t.”
“Aren’t you in a sweet temper? What’s your problem?”
He shoved aside his empty plate. Black eyes bored into hers. “Let’s talk, then. Why haven’t you married, Alexa?”
Alarm replaced her persistent, barely acknowledged longing to spend time with him. He intended to continue last night’s conversation. No. She wasn’t ready. Time to erect that wall again.
Flippantly, she said, “I told you. I’ve never found the perfect guy.”
“Until Colin. Right?” His gaze was intent.
“He is perfect.”
Colin was everything she had ever looked for in a man. She reminded herself again why. He was tall, not short. She cast a narrowed glance Jamison’s way. Charming, instead of obnoxious. Considerate, instead of blunt and in-her-face. Blond hair and blue eyes, not black-haired, black-eyed and black-hearted.
“Does he rev your engine?”
She blinked. “What is that supposed to mean?” she delicately inquired.
“Come on, princess. Do you want him to take you places you’ve never been before?”
“I hope you mean in a traveling context,” she returned frostily. “Otherwise, your comments are extremely inappropriate!”
He looked unrepentant. “I guess that means ‘no.’” He stood and cleared his place.
She curled her lips. “Imagine what you will. But my love life is none of your business.”
“You don’t know what you want.”
Glaring, she stood now, too. “I know I don’t want anyone like you. And that’s a good starting point, as far as I’m concerned.”
The way his lips curled up did not pass for a smile. “You’ve made that clear from day one.”
“So you did overhear my comment about dating short men.”
Jamison flipped his black jacket off the chair back and thrust his arms into the sleeves. He zipped it with a jerk. “Yeah, I heard you. And the munchkin comment. Why do you think we started on such a positive note?”
“Because you’re such a sweet, sweet man?” she inquired. “Don’t blame your rude behavior on me. I, for one, had no intention of hurting anyone’s fragile ego at the studio.”
“What about sneering down your nose at the airport? What about treating me like a servant? Was that intentional?”
“You were rude first,” she reminded him. “And I tried to apologize, remember? But you wouldn’t accept it. No, you disparaged my character because I’m beautiful.” She frowned at his soaring eyebrows. “You said it!”
“Things haven’t changed much, have they?” He looked grim.
“You’re still rude, if that’s what you mean.”
He fished in his pocket and pulled out his room key, then shoved it back and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” she demanded.
“Out.”
“Again?”
“Mart will baby-sit you for an hour. I need air.” He slammed the door behind him.
Alexa felt angry and hurt. Why had he just spouted off like that? Sure, they fought all the time, but usually it was more good-natured. Less…personal.
He was angry with her.
Because she wouldn’t have a serious conversation? Probably. He certainly hadn’t appreciated it when she had reverted to her flip, charming self. In fact, Alexa already regretted pushing him away with her snappy words. So what if he had tried to dig under her skin again, and she wasn’t ready? Did she have to act like a cavewoman?
No. Of course not. Alexa felt further remorse and chagrin. And yet she hadn’t been the only one acting like a prickly porcupine. They had both done a good job of pushing each other away just now.
Unfortunately, one thing rang loud and clear. Jamison possesse
d the ability to reach deep down and grip her soul. It scared her, and she didn’t know how to handle it. Or him. Not yet. And the original question remained—why had he been so prickly, too?
She greeted Mart, and then elected to watch television with him on the couch. Midway through the show, she turned to him. “Is something wrong with me?”
His amused gaze scanned her face. “Not outwardly.”
“Don’t turn into Jamison on me,” she warned. “We’re friends, right? Tell me the truth.”
“The truth is, I don’t know what’s going on between you and Jamison. And I’d rather stay out of it.” He flipped the channel to a sports broadcast. As always, Alexa was amazed that sports seemed to run at all hours of the day and night. She glanced away from the distracting television, and found Mart’s gaze glued to it.
With a sigh, she stood. “Fine. I won’t torture you with my presence, either.”
Now it was his turn to sigh. He pointed to the couch cushion. “Sit, Alexa.”
She complied, but sat on the edge. She eyed him with caution.
He grinned. “I don’t bite. And if you want to know what Jamison’s thinking, ask him.”
Arms crossed, Alexa settled back on the couch. Like that would happen. They seemed incapable of completing one civil conversation. Especially since that earthshaking kiss the other night.
“Now,” Mart said. “Do you want to watch sports, or an action flick?”
“The movie.” Alexa pulled her knees to her chin and draped her arms around them. Men. Somehow, Jamison and she had to work through this knotty mess, or the next two weeks would prove intolerable.
Soon she found herself zoning off into the movie, too, and barely noticed when Jamison returned and sprawled into a nearby chair to watch the movie, too.
Alexa jumped up when the credits rolled. She had dealt with enough testosterone for one night. “Good night, you two.”
“Sleep tight,” Mart said.
“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.” Jamison’s dark look indicated he might wish bedbugs would bite her.
Her Reluctant Bodyguard Page 23
