Guarding Miranda

by Amanda M. Holt

  The wind in the leaves of the trees, the distant drone of a motorboat, the whisper of his breathing.

  It wasn’t long before she fell asleep...

  “You’re beginning to look a bit pink, Miranda.” The deep, husky voice stirred her out of her restful sleep. “I think you should go inside.”

  “Nonsense.” She replied and in keeping her eyes closed, rolled unto her stomach to sun her backside.

  “Well don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he scolded and in leaving, closed the French doors.

  She awoke for the second time a great deal of time later.

  There was something about lounging about in the sun that brought out the lazybones in her...

  She got unto her knees and wondered at the tightness she felt there.

  She opened her eyes and gasped at what she saw: her knees and thighs were red with sunburn, not just pink but red!

  What had happened to the sunscreen?

  “Oh no,” she moaned, standing to inspect the rest of her body. Her legs were sunburned, right down to the tips of her toes. “What garbage sunscreen!”

  She checked what she could of the back of her body.

  It seemed in better shape than her front. “Lovely, just lovely.”

  She whipped the Navajo blanket up from the verandah, entered the cabin and threw it at the couch.

  Brian was watching her intently from his preferred airchair.

  He set down Birds of Manitoba.

  “What’s the matter, love?”

  “I’m sunburned, that’s what’s the matter!”

  “I warned you,” he said lightly, looking her over from head to toe, with an expression that was not sexual hungry but sympathy. “Poor love...”

  “I told you to stop calling me that!” She hissed and stomped off to the bathroom to draw herself a cool bath.

  Her skin felt tight and hot wherever she touched it but having been burned before, she knew that the worst was yet to come.

  In the next few days, she would surely blister and peel.

  As for walking, bending her legs to walk was already a test of fortitude.

  The backs of her knees were both scorched.

  And the stupid thing was, she had been sunburned before.

  Worse than this...

  “You’d think I would have learned my lesson the last time,” she growled at her discolored reflection.

  “What’s that?” Brian called from the living room.

  “Nothing!” She yelled, more angry at herself than at him.

  The Jacuzzi was so huge, it took forever to fill, especially with just the one tap going for the most part.

  She stepped in, though it was only half full and gasped at the chill of the water.

  A necessary evil – she had to try and get the heat out of her burn.

  Through the open door, she could see that Brian was no longer sitting in his favorite arm chair.

  She could hear him puttering around in the kitchen, as she delicately sponged her livid skin.

  After a long silence from his direction, she was surprised to see him in the door way, watching her, a glass of murky liquid in his hand.

  Brian stepped into the bathroom and offered her the glass.

  “What’s this?” She asked, eyeing the glass with suspicion.

  “Lemonade,” he replied softly. “There was an unopened bottle of lemon juice in the cupboard that hasn’t expired yet, so I used it to make you something to drink. You must be parched from sitting in that hot sun.”

  The gesture warmed her heart.

  It was one of the nicest little things a guy had ever done for her.

  Maybe there was more to Brian than met the eye.

  He had made her pancakes, after all and eggs the next morning.

  He could be rather thoughtful, at times, when he wasn’t being such awalking hormone.

  “Thank you.” She took the glass.

  She sipped at its contents and was delighted by the tangy sweet citrus drink and the way it quenched her thirst.

  “Feel better?”

  She smiled. “It’s a sunburn, Brian, not a flu.”

  “While you’re soaking in the tub, I’ll get started on our supper.”

  “What time is it?” Miranda asked, brow furrowed.

  How long had she been lying there, in the sun?

  “Four thirty seven.” He replied, upon consulting his watch.

  “I was in the sun for close to three hours!” She pulled the plug mechanism of the tub and felt the water around her begin to drain away.

  “I warned you, love.”

  Her heart ached at the tenderness of his tone. “Please stop calling me that.”

  “Your front’s burned worse than your back.” He informed her. “Even your eyelids are burned.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Did I mention how sorry I am that you got burned by that nasty old sun?”

  “It was hardly your fault.” Miranda rose from the tub and rivulets of water ran down her long, lithe body.

  “Then why are you so... upset with me?”

  “I’m not upset with you,” she replied, firmly. “I’m just venting.”

  Brian was not convinced.

  Something was definitely troubling her.

  “With what, then?” He probed. “Us?”

  “There is no us to be upset about,” she lied, wrapping herself in one of the fluffy white towels from the linen closet.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Oh really?” She challenged.

  “Yes, really. I think that there is one Hell of a hot-blooded us at hand and that you’re just too afraid to admit it.”

  She froze at his comment.

  Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

  Was he looking for a relationship or insinuating that they had one?

  Was there hope for them yet?

  No, he wasn’t possibly implying that...was he?

  “Beg to differ all you like.” She grumbled, collecting her lemonade from the sink where she’d left it. “You bodyguard, me bodyguardee – understand?”

  “God, Miranda, you’re so cruel by day and so sensual by night...” He brushed her chin with his thumb, ran his fingers over her pouty lower lip.

  Her breath caught in her chest and held there, for what seemed an eternity.

  There was tenderness in his stormy grey eyes. “The things you do to me... you really have no idea, do you?”

  Miranda drew in a steadying breath.

  She was not going to let him seduce her again.

  She had given him enough of her body and her heart for one lifetime.

  It was time for Miranda to keep her distance, if she could.

  The only trouble was, Brian was blocking the door, her route of escape.

  “Could you kindly move,” she said briskly, green eyes flashing with anger.

  Brian stared at her for a long moment, trying to determine whether or not she was genuinely angry at him or if it was the sunburn talking.

  “You’re rather cross with me for no reason,” he said finally. “If there is a reason, then tell me. What did I do? Tell me where I went wrong and I’ll right it.”

  “Just move.”

  “Very well.”

  His broad shoulders sank in defeat.

  He was never going to understand her, as much as he wanted to.

  He left the bathroom and so did she, dripping all the way up to her room.

  Once the door to the master bedroom was firmly shut, Miranda peeled off her bikini top and bottom and was shocked by the livid contrast between burned skin and the creamy whiteness of that which had been covered.

  A frown on her lips, she pulled her navy sarong from her overnight bag and tied it around her neck. It fell just below her knees and was light enough to be comfortable against her skin.

  She pulled and twisted her long dark hair into a bun and ventured back down stairs.

  Chapter Thirteen:

  She found Brian busily washing romain
e lettuce in the sink, two chicken breasts already simmering away on the stove top.

  He looked so in his element, at work in the kitchen, that she found herself watching him for a long moment, admiration in her heart. She berated herself for being so upset with him.

  Clearly, he was dumbfounded by her behavior, from the comments he had made and the pleasant smile he now offered her.

  She would punish him no longer, for loving him.

  It was just a secret she would have to keep to herself...

  “The lemonade was very good,” she said, setting the empty glass in the sink. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He eyed her with suspicion for a moment and then broke into a grin. “In better spirits, I see?”

  “Listen, Brian, I’m sorry I was so bitchy with you...”

  “You call that bitchy?” His grin broadened. “You should see my accountant come end of the month.”

  “Logan Security and Investigations must be missing you dearly.”

  “They’ll manage.”

  “Who’s running the office while you’re away?”

  “By secretary, Caroline.” He shook the lettuce, ridding it of as much moisture as possible. “She’ll call me here if there are any unsolvable problems. She’s quite capable, my Caroline.”

  Miranda found herself suddenly jealous of a woman she didn’t know.

  My Caroline...

  It figured.

  Caroline was probably a devastatingly beautiful red head or no, a token suicide blond secretary, with killer looks and big breasts to match.

  From the fond way Brian spoke of his secretary, Miranda had to wonder just how involved with her he was...

  Not that it was really any of her business but...

  “Caroline, she keeps you on her toes, does she?”

  Brian nodded. “I’ll be lost without her when she retires in two years. It’s going to be a real challenge, finding someone to replace that old battle-axe.”

  Retiring in two years?

  Miranda stifled a giggle at her original thoughts of the woman.

  Now, she pictured a sweet senior of a woman with grey hair and glasses.

  “So why did you assign yourself to me?” She probed. “Why not send that Chris guy who guarded my room or-”

  “Russ asked me to do it, is why.” He replied, tearing the lettuce into smaller pieces. “That and you might say I have a personally vested interest in your case.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He turned the full intensity of his dark eyes on her. “If you haven’t figured it out yet, Miranda, I’m quite fond of you.”

  Quite fond of you...

  She supposed it was a notch above embarking on a beautiful friendship...

  She was thoroughly warmed by his comment.

  Fond of her.

  Well, she was pretty fond of him too.

  So much for keeping her distance...

  “Well, I’m a bit fond of you, too,” she confessed. “You’re my own personal hero, after all.”

  “Oh, I’m no hero.” He took some of his frustration out on the lettuce.

  He had heard it from his employees, from Russ, from the newshounds, the police.

  Now he was hearing it from her too?

  All this hero nonsense was enough to drive a man insane.

  “Oh but you are. I owe you my life.”

  “Yeah?” He snorted. “Well if I’d been watching a bit more closely that night, you may never have been shot at all.”

  Her brow furrowed. “You were watching us that night?”

  “Why do you think I was there in the first place?”

  “You saw Barry shoot us?”

  “Yes.” He sighed and it was a sound of misery. “Yes, I did.”

  She chose her words carefully, “Did you try to stop him?”

  “The car waiting for him sped away, with him in it.” He paused but she felt he had more to say. “I rushed to the Mercedes, as quickly as I could. I couldn’t seem to run fast enough. I was terrified. I had no idea how badly you were hurt, until I saw you... When I saw you lying there, so helpless, my blood ran cold in my veins. I’ve never felt a chill like that, not even in the dead of winter.”

  He finished with the lettuce and moved to the stove to check the chicken.

  “God, Miranda, there was so much blood. I thought for sure that you were gone.”

  “But I wasn’t.”

  He nodded. “You weren’t. And the paramedics got there in record time.”

  In silence, her fingers grazed the puckered pink scar that marred her bare left shoulder.

  There was no more denying the pain in his voice than there was denying the scar itself.

  She understood things now. “And you blame yourself?”

  “In a lot of ways.” He confessed, moving the chicken about. “I should have been closer. Faster. Sharper...”

  “You shouldn’t blame yourself.” Her heart went out to the gentle hulk and her right hand brushed his, in support.

  “But I do.” He met her gaze. “From the moment I told Russ that I suspected Richard really was involved in the drug trade, my job description changed. He instructed me to watch out for you, as best I could, while also further investigating the extent of your involvement – and Richard’s.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, you know that.”

  “Oh but it was.”

  “No, it wasn’t,” she said firmly. “You didn’t pull the trigger. Barry did.”

  “But I wasn’t there. I should have been there...”

  “You were there.” She caressed the back of his hand. “Don’t be dense, Brian. You saved my life.”

  “But you could have died...”

  “But I didn’t. Enough with the wasn’ts and buts,” she told him. “Should haves, could haves and would haves don’t matter now. It’s time to move on. Time to learn from the incident and get over it.”

  “I suppose you’re right.” Brian still couldn’t shake his sense of responsibility, though.

  He would carry it with him, to the grave.

  He looked into her lovely sunburned face and saw a great deal of beauty there, beauty and understanding.

  She had forgiven him all things.

  Forgiven the ugliness that marred their past.

  Now, he only had to forgive himself.

  “I am right.” Miranda grinned at him and took her hand away from his. “And I know what will turn your frown upside down.”

  He looked upon the perky breasts that teased him from beneath the dark blue material of the sarong.

  He offered her a sexy smile and slipped one hand to her waist, drawing her close.

  To his delight, she didn’t resist him.

  “Oh and what’s that. Some tender loving care?”

  “No...” She beat him to the punch, kissing him pertly before stepping away from his embrace. “An evening of fishing. We can go fishing tonight.”

  “Fishing?” He had been hoping for a few hours of one-on-one in the bedroom upstairs. “I haven’t been fishing since I was a boy.”

  “We’ll lower the boat after supper and stay out ‘til it’s dark.” She concluded. “I know how to drive the boat – my uncle used to have one just like it at the time share up in Montana.”

  He laughed and it was delightful music to her ears. “You know how to drive a boat?”

  “You find that funny?”

  Man, did he ever have some misconceptions about the spoiled little rich girl.

  “I just didn’t think that you of all people would know how to drive a fishing boat.”

  “I can bait my own hook and filet fish too,” she sniffed, as though insulted. “I’m going to be worth my weight in gold when the zombie apocalypse happens.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. “Aren’t we just full of surprises...”

  “You haven’t seen anything yet...” Their eyes locked at the sultry promise of her tone. Miranda swallowed nervously and forced herself to look away. “You simmer y
our chicken breast?”

  “With a lemon juice broth and the lemon pepper I found in the cupboard. It’s healthier for you that way.” He stirred the chicken a bit. “Tastes better than frying, too.”

  “Smells good.” Her stomach rumbled.

  “Tastes even better.”

  “You’re quite the chef.”

  “I believe your words were: who died and made you Chef Boyardee.”

  They shared a laugh.

  “Can I help?” She mused, watching him work.

  “You can set the table.”

  “And I’ll do the dishes afterwards,” she offered, with a smile.

  “Deal.” He grinned. “I hate doing dishes.”

  Selecting two plates from the cupboard, she brushed passed him, to put them on the table. Cutlery followed from the drawers and they already had their glasses.

  All while she moved about, she felt his eyes upon her.

  She turned and caught him staring at her, a lewd grin on his lips.

  “What is it, Brian?”

  “What are you wearing under that blanket?”

  “Under this sarong?” Her eyes boldly met his. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?” He swallowed.

  “Nada. Zippo. Nyet. Nothing.”

  For a long moment, his glance hungrily raked her body.

  Once his grey eyes were satisfied with what they had found, he turned them back to preparing the salad.

  “You look even better in that than you did in the bikini. Leaves a lot to the imagination. Very sexy.”

  There was not even the slightest trace of hostility in her voice as she graciously said, “Thank you.”

  Brian tossed large chunks of lemon marinated chicken with croutons, rings of Spanish onion, light Caesar dressing and the lettuce greens, creating a salad that promised to be as delicious as it was appealing to the eyes.

  “Looks great.” Miranda poured herself a vodka and ginger ale. “Anything for you from the liquor cabinet?”

  “No, thank you. I’m not really much for spirits. That and I’d like to stay sharp.” He indicated the meal. “Let’s dig in.”

  The chicken breast is juicy and has just the right amount of zip, Miranda thought and delighted in the way it excited her palate.

  The salad was easily the best she had ever tasted, with just the right amount of crunch, texture and flavor to satisfy her cravings. What made it even more delicious was the fact that she had seen it prepared by the man who had stolen her heart.