Alexa engaged Stephano with a smile. “Tell me, what was Jamison like as a little boy?” Of course, she had heard Jamison’s side. She wanted to hear his family’s.
Jamison’s knee pressed in warning against hers under the table. Alexa threw him a sunny smile and patted his thigh in a comforting manner. It felt hard and muscular, and she snatched her hand free at the same time he jerked his leg clear of hers. A faint flush darkened his tan.
“Jamison was a troublemaker as a boy,” Stephano said in thickly accented English. “But you would never believe it now. He turned his life around in college. He used to be a big partier. A drinker of much alcohol.”
“Really?” Although Jamison had told her about his excesses in high school, Alexa still found it hard to believe. In fact, she had never seen Jamison touch any sort of liquor.
Mamma Tia shook her head at her husband. “Jamison has always been a good boy,” she retorted. “He always had a lot of energy and curiosity. And a desire to explore the world. Sometimes it got him into trouble. But he has always treated his mama right.”
“He’d better!” Stephano lifted his hand in mock warning. “Or he would know the consequence.”
“I don’t think Alexa is interested in my past.”
“Of course she is,” his father said. “How could she not, sitting beside you, so bella. Smiling at you. She asked me, did she not? I will tell her a story.”
“Papa, no,” Jamison groaned.
“Sì. Let me think.” But whatever he’d been about to say was interrupted by the ringing phone. Stephano wiped his mouth and placed the napkin on the table. “That will be my manager. Please excuse me.”
“Papa owns a vineyard near here,” Jamison explained.
“I will tell you a story,” Mamma Tia said. Her eyes were soft as she gazed at her son.
“Mamma,” Jamison said, but Alexa heard the hopeless note in his voice. She grinned and turned to his mother, eager for every detail.
“Hush. When Jamison was six, I dropped him off at scuola primaria for the first time. I told him I would be back soon to pick him up. I was so proud of him. He didn’t cry. But I did, as I walked the long block home. My baby was a big boy now, going to school. He didn’t need me so much anymore.
“When I got home I settled into work. But I kept hearing a strange noise in the house. I looked,” she glanced with love at Jamison, who now held his head in his hands, to Alexa’s delight. “And there was Jamison Jethro’s foot sticking out from under my bed. He was crying, my poor boy. I helped him out. He held his Pooh bear tight in his arms and sobbed that he couldn’t go to a place that wouldn’t allow his dear Pooh to go, too. ‘Or you, Mamma,’ he said.” Her eyes misted now. “And then I knew I had not lost my son. And I still have not. I don’t care what his papa says,” she fluttered a dismissive hand at Stephano’s empty chair. “He is the best boy in the world. With a heart of gold.”
Though Jamison looked embarrassed, he stood and pressed a quick kiss to his mother’s cheek. “I love you, Mamma. Even though you embarrass me in front of our guest.” He sat again.
“Oh, pooh,” Mamma Tia said with a smile. “Alexa needs to know these things about you. If I know you at all, son, you won’t let your guard down enough to let her see the real you. The son I love.”
“Thank you, Mamma,” Jamison murmured. He cast a glance at Alexa. “I think.”
“That was a beautiful story,” Alexa said. “Thank you for telling me, Mamma Tia.” It was another piece to the complex man she was beginning to know. It fascinated her, hearing this story of his childhood, and trying to mesh it with the man he was today.
He had walls. Not a surprise, to be honest. She had sensed them from the start. This impression had intensified when he’d unflatteringly labeled her beautiful, and therefore trouble. What was that all about? But inside, did he have that heart of gold everyone kept telling her about? She was beginning to suspect it was the truth. Then why and where had the walls come from? Were they a product of getting older and protecting himself from the cold, cruel world? Or had something happened to him, as it had to her?
Alexa enjoyed the rest of the meal, as well as more stories about Jamison. To her delight, Mamma Tia also brought out a photo album of Jamison as a boy. A devilish glint sparkled in his eyes, matched by a wide grin. When it came time to leave, Alexa received warm hugs and invitations to return soon. She promised she would—if she was ever in Italy again. She glanced at her bodyguard. Not likely.
The thought formed an uncomfortable ache inside of her.
Mamma Tia took Jamison aside just before they left and spoke in his ear.
“Your family is wonderful,” Alexa told Jamison softly as they drove home. “I love them.”
“They loved you, too. My mother was especially taken with you.”
“What did she say to you, there at the end?” Not that it was any of her business. She truly didn’t expect him to tell her.
Jamison remained silent for a long moment. “She said you’re a keeper,” he said quietly. “But mothers only see what they want to see.”
“I liked her, too. And it was quite educational, learning more about you.”
A faint smile curved his lips. “More ammunition against me, you mean.”
“Of course. Isn’t that what you expect?”
“I never know what to expect from you, princess.”
“Isn’t that what keeps our relationship interesting?” she suggested with a grin.
“Interesting.” He glanced at her, and for just a second, his pensive black gaze rested on her mouth. “That’s one way to put it.”
“Your father said you partied hard in college.” Curiosity had been nipping at Alexa ever since Stephano had made those cryptic remarks yesterday. They now strolled along a bridge near their apartment building. “So, you didn’t settle down when you left home for college. I still find it hard to believe.”
“That’s a good thing, I guess.”
She glanced at his profile as he walked beside her. The sun set in the west, outlining his face in shadows. “What happened in college?” she asked softly. She wanted to know more of this complex man’s secrets.
After a moment, he said, “I was foolish. I drank and partied through my freshman and half of my sophomore years.”
“And you still graduated with honors?”
“I was lucky. I skated the first two years.”
Alexa doubted that. “Why did you stop partying? Your father said you turned your life around, and I can see you have.”
“Thank you.” He stopped and put his elbows on the bridge, and gazed off toward the setting sun. Alexa did the same, resting her chin in her hands. In this position, he actually appeared taller and bigger than she was. He’d rolled his shirtsleeves to the elbow. Black hairs sprinkled his muscular forearms. Not too many, to be a turnoff to her.
“What happened?” she encouraged, tearing her eyes away. What was she doing, staring at his arms? What did she care if he had a truckload of Neanderthal fur, or not?
“I drank myself stupid at a party one night. And I drove—even stupider. The next thing I knew my car was wrapped around a tree, and the horn was blaring. That’s what saved me. People came running and pulled me out before the car exploded. Otherwise I would be dead.” Grimness settled into his voice.
Horror hit Alexa. She couldn’t imagine the world without this man in it. “I’m glad you’re not,” she whispered.
“Yeah. Me, too. Anyway, I was lucky. I wasn’t hurt, and I hadn’t hurt anyone else. It scared me, though, and I decided to reassess my life. My father helped.” He laughed shortly. “He threatened to cut off my college money if I didn’t straighten up. So I went to AA. That was the beginning.”
“That’s when you became a Christian.”
“Yes. I haven’t touched liquor since.”
Her respect and pride in him grew. He had completely turned his life around. Look at the man he was today. One of the be
st in his field. Colin Radcliffe trusted him with his life. She trusted him with hers, without question.
“How did you get into bodyguarding?” she wanted to know. “I mean, you don’t exactly look like the bodyguard type.”
“Because I’m short?” His half-smile said he didn’t take offense—this time.
“Yes. But you’re tough, aren’t you?” How did she know this?
“I used to play rugby—I still do, sometimes. It’s a brutal sport.”
“You played rugby?”
“Yes. And soccer. They were the approved activities my father allowed in high school.”
“That’s funny. I don’t see you as the team type.”
“Again, you don’t know much about me, princess.”
“I’m realizing that more every day.” She kept learning fascinating depths to this man. She threw him a grin. “Were you any good?”
Jamison shrugged. “My opponents seemed to think so.”
Alexa laughed. That was so like him. Unwilling to accept praise or stand in the limelight. “So you were a jock and a brain.”
He glanced at her, and he was very near. Dark stubble darkened his jaw, and the faint, spicy scent that was just him filled her senses. Memories of the kisses they had shared flitted through her brain. Several long heartbeats thumped by. How could his eyes be so impossibly dark?
He said, “You’re staring at me.”
“So? You’re like two inches away. How can I ignore you?” Flustered, she looked away. What would it feel like if his lips grazed her cheek—just by accident, of course? Or not. Agitation churned faster. Sugar flakes. What was she thinking? Hadn’t they agreed to avoid this kind of craziness? Look at last time. They’d fought, and she had feared she had lost his friendship. Now, more than ever, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing Jamison.
When his arm brushed hers, she nearly jumped out of her skin. “What are you doing?” she exclaimed, and quickly shifted away.
“Touchy, aren’t you?”
“I don’t want you touching me,” she asserted. What a big fat liar she was!
He smiled, but said nothing.
Alexa glanced down at their hands, separated now only by inches. His larger one looked sculpted and incredibly tan next to her own, which looked slim and golden brown from their excursions in the sun, touring Europe. He had beautiful hands. Her heart fluttered alarmingly. What was wrong with her? She was losing it!
Alexa swallowed. “We should go back. Doesn’t Colin need you at the concert tonight?”
“Not for another hour.”
“Who’s going to baby-sit me, then? Or have you decided I’m mature now, and don’t need a bodyguard in my own room?”
“A new guy will be with you. Colin has received threats directed at this concert. He needs experience there tonight.”
Alexa nodded. Of course Jamison had to be there. “Be careful.”
His shoulder shifted slightly nearer. “You care, princess?”
“Of course I don’t want you hurt. Then who would cook me pizza?”
He chuckled, low in his chest, and his hand slid over hers. Her heart jerked out of rhythm, and the breath left her lungs when his fingers curled around hers. He lifted her hand to his lips. His black gaze held hers as he pressed a warm kiss to her skin. “Thanks, Alexa.” Slowly, he turned her fingers, and his lips grazed her pulse point.
Alexa stared at him, unblinking, lips parted. “What are you doing?” she squeaked.
“If I have to tell you, I must not be doing it right.” His gaze held her disturbed one. “But I think I might be,” he added softly.
She tugged her hand free. “That is quite enough. Thank you.” She trembled inside, but couldn’t let him see that. “I’m heading back.”
They walked in silence back to the building, but Alexa was very aware of his presence beside her—and the proximity of his arm when he pulled open the door for her. Good thing he was going out tonight. Her hormones were surely whacked out. Hopefully by tomorrow they’d be back under control. She would do well to curl up in front of the television and watch a mindless show. In Italian—which she couldn’t understand, and which would give her mind ample opportunity to wander.
Maybe she had better read a book. A mystery, though. Not a ridiculous love story.
Alexa fell asleep in bed reading the murder mystery. She awoke sometime in the middle of the night, discombobulated. Her room was dark. But hadn’t she fallen asleep with the lamp on? In her peripheral vision, the sheer curtains of the sliding door billowed. A breeze puffed into the room.
Her slider was open. Why? Alarm, like a spark of electricity, jolted her. But before she could move, claw-like hands appeared in her peripheral vision.
The talons strangled her scream.
Choking for air, Alexa grabbed the skeletal arms and writhed to free herself. The grip loosened, allowing her a shallow gulp of oxygen. “Ja…” But the maniacally strong fingers tightened again. Where was Jamison? Was he back? He would hear her, she knew it, if he was here.
But Alexa heard and saw nothing but the dark room and the ghostly figure over her, his stringy hair tangled around his contorted face. An awful stink came from him. She clawed at her neck, trying to loosen the fingers squeezing away her life. She couldn’t die. She didn’t want to die!
Frantic and desperate, she kneed the man, twisting her body to try to make solid contact. But the man turned, taking the brunt of the kicks on his side.
He was too strong. She couldn’t budge his steely hands. Her world went gray, with popping white lights. Was this how it would end? With her life stolen…to never see Jamison again. To have no future?
Despairing fury ripped through her. No! She wanted to scream, but the air in her lungs was long gone. She clawed at the man’s face, viciously ripping skin, tearing at his ears.
He cried out, and his grip loosened enough so she could gasp in another tiny breath, but then he bore down on her even harder, his white face twisted in grotesque wrath.
A black hulk hurtled into her attacker. With a hiss, the ghostly man jerked sideways and crumpled to the floor. Alexa gasped for oxygen. Her throat felt raw and painful. Although it hurt to breathe, the air tasted sweet and delicious.
On the floor, a silent struggle took place. Alexa watched, horrified, while she dragged in ragged breaths. She recognized her bodyguard’s bulk, struggling to subdue the ghostly figure. Jamison! Fear cramped through her. What if the attacker had a knife, or a gun? But if so, why hadn’t he used them on her?
The struggle was over within seconds. Jamison’s knee dug into the ghost’s back, and he wrenched the man’s wrists backwards.
“Alexa. Get the lights and my cuffs. On my dresser.”
She quickly switched on the lamp and gasped with relief. Jamison appeared to be unharmed. Only faint muscle flickers indicated the effort he made, pinning the “ghost” to the floor. He wore no shirt. Only black, silky boxers.
Jamison’s eyes gleamed at her. “Cuffs,” he repeated.
“Yes!” Alexa leaped to her feet. “I’ll get them.”
She ran across the empty sitting area to Jamison’s room. The covers had been thrown to one side, but the rest of the room looked as neat as a pin. His cuffs lay on the dresser, along with his cell phone and wallet. She grabbed the phone, too, and sprinted to deliver them to Jamison.
He quickly snapped the cuffs on the stringy, gray-haired man. Her attacker wore a long, dirty white shirt and gray sweats. This lovely specimen twisted his neck to look at Alexa. The dark eyes looked demonic. He hissed. “You’ll both die! My daughter will see to it.”
His voice was familiar, as was the stink. “It’s the guy who attacked me in Barcelona!” Alexa exclaimed.
Jamison looked grim. “Good. Thanks.” He accepted the phone and dialed a number.
The stalker’s last words finally registered. Alexa stared at the man. What daughter? Was there a third person involved in this stalker plot? Or four, i
f perhaps Paddy was the mastermind.
In her thin scrap of a nighty, Alexa suddenly felt vulnerable to her attacker’s baleful eyes. Not to mention Jamison, who hadn’t yet paid much attention to her. And the police would be coming. Grabbing a T-shirt and sweats, she hurried into the bathroom.
When she reentered the room, Jamison was still talking on the phone, torso tilted away from her, apparently to look at the clock. She realized anew that he wore nothing but the black silk boxers. Her eyes greedily scanned him, taking advantage of his momentary distraction.
Thick muscles rippled across his broad back. He slowly turned, still talking in rapid Italian, so his side faced her. She moved closer. His torso was deeply tanned, and a faint ‘v’ of dark hair matted his chest. Sculpted, hard muscles outlined his chest and arms.
Belatedly, she realized that he had snapped the phone shut and now watched her ogle him. A flush burned her cheeks. She blurted, “When are the police coming?”
“Soon.” He dragged the man to his feet and shoved him into the living room.
The next two hours passed in a blur. Jamison grilled the attacker for information on his briefly mentioned daughter, but the man clammed up. Alexa made coffee for the officers, and even drank some herself, although she hated the bitter stuff. She was exhausted after the adrenaline wore off. But she had to stay awake in order to answer the police officers’ endless questions. Jamison helped her, of course, but she was so tired she wished they would leave. Finally, they exited, and the prisoner spat more warnings as the police marched him away. It was three o’clock in the morning.
Alexa yawned. “Do you think that’ll be the end of the threats?”
“Maybe,” Jamison said. “But it sounds like he’s got a daughter out there.”
“Could she be as loony as her parents?”
“We have to be prepared for that possibility.”
Alexa’s old suspicions returned. “And what about Paddy? What have you found out about him?”
Her Reluctant Bodyguard Page 26
