Guarding His Body

by A. C. Arthur

  “You ever been to a foundry before?”

  “No.”

  “Then let me give you the grand tour,” a familiar male voice interrupted. This was Walt. He worked on all of Renny’s projects. In fact, Renny didn’t trust anyone else with his pieces.

  Renny extended his hand, and Walt clasped it quickly and with a generous smile. “Hey, Walt. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing much. I’ve got this dude working me like crazy, that’s all.” Walt was a tall man, wire thin, with a long face and a big, warm smile. “I see you’ve brought me a little bit of sunshine this morning. You tryin’ to bribe me?” Walt was looking at Sabrina.

  Renny didn’t miss the implications in Walt’s words, nor did he miss the salacious look he was giving Sabrina. What was even harder to miss was the swirling heat in the pit of his stomach—something he wasn’t even going to qualify as jealousy. “This is a friend of the family, Sabrina Desdune. She’s helping out with the opening, so I thought I’d let her get a look at how the background work is done. Sabrina, this is Walter Hemler, foundry worker extraordinaire.”

  Bree gave the man a cordial smile and extended her hand. He eagerly took it between both his hands and rubbed her skin gently. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hemler.”

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” Walt shook his head. “You’ll call me Walt just like everybody else. You sure are a pretty little thing.”

  Bree blushed at his words. Why was it that older men always flirted with younger women, embarrassing them both immensely? “Thank you, Walt. I’m a bit curious. Do you think you can explain all this to me?” She looked around them again, ignoring the heated glare she was receiving from Renny.

  “Sure thing, little missy. You just follow me and I’ll answer all your questions.”

  Walt hooked Bree’s arm in his and began walking. Each of them seemed to forget Renny was even standing there.

  With his lips drawn tightly Renny followed them, not liking the exclusion one bit. He was supposed to be showing her around. It didn’t really matter. He was here to check on his pieces; showing Sabrina around would only distract him. Sort of like the sway of her hips was doing right now.

  “We mostly do artwork here. You know, sculptures and statues. Over there’s the oven. That’s where we melt the metal and fire the castings. It’s hot as Satan’s den over there, so I won’t take you too close.” Walt was busily talking and guiding Sabrina.

  Bree looked around, watching as workers poured a glistening liquid into small molds and large molds, her inquisitive mind working overtime. “So, do you just come up with the ideas and pour the metal inside and then you have a statue?”

  “Naw, all this starts with the artist. He dreams up the idea and then brings us a smaller model. We take it from there.”

  “This is really interesting. I never gave much thought to how these things were actually created.”

  “It’s a daunting process,” Renny spoke up from his spot behind them. When she turned her eyes to him he felt like sitting her down and answering any question she asked. She looked suddenly vulnerable and very childlike in this big warehouse with all this heavy machinery. A marine, no, you would never guess it of this petite woman. Not until you looked deep into her eyes. They were such expression-filled eyes that Renny found himself getting lost in them once again. She was passionate, with a strength and determination to rival any man’s; he could see that clearly. An artist had an eye for detail, and ever since meeting Sabrina he’d stored away loads of details about her.

  “Really?” She’d known he was close, had felt his dominating presence behind her as if he were her entire world. There was an unknown element about Renny Bennett, something she assumed other people didn’t see often when they looked at him. “How do you get your inspiration?”

  He couldn’t tell her his latest source of inspiration and didn’t quite know how to explain his pieces, so he thought an example would suit this conversation better. “Walt can show you a couple of my finished pieces and then I’ll let you answer that yourself.”

  “Sure. Right this way. He’s real protective of his stuff, so I keep it in a locked room until it’s time to move it.”

  They walked through the center of the factory, up a few stairs and across a catwalk. Renny grabbed her elbow to keep her steady. Bree frowned but didn’t say anything. She’d walked on a catwalk before; hell, she’d jumped out of a plane before, so this was a piece of cake, but she kept that to herself. Renny seemed to be real big on this gentleman thing, so she’d leave it alone, for now.

  Walt used a key to gain entrance into the room and flicked on a light before inviting them in. Renny still held on to her arm even though they’d left the catwalk about twenty steps ago. White sheets covered everything in the room except the steel shelves. When it seemed no one was in a hurry to remove them, Bree took a step and pulled one away herself.

  She gasped, her hand coming to her throat for an instant. Then she ran her fingers lightly over the figure. It was a woman. A naked woman, lying on a couch, one leg thrown over the back while the other dangled over the edge. One arm was draped over her head while the other extended down between her legs. Her features weren’t clear, yet the excitement, the growing passion, was unmistakable.

  Her skin tingled as she continued to study the sculpture. It was intricate in its design, right down to the sharp protrusion of the woman’s nipples. Renny was standing right next to her now, close enough that she could hear his breathing. “What do you think?” he almost whispered.

  She licked her lips. “It’s, ah…very interesting.”

  Renny sighed. “You think it’s pornographic, don’t you? You can tell me the truth.” That’s what his father thought, that he was spending all his time making dirty sculptures so horny nutcases could pay a fortune for them.

  Bree heard the disappointment in his voice and turned to face him. His hands were thrust into his pockets, his jaw clenched as he looked away from her. She touched his arm gently, knowing exactly what it felt like when someone didn’t understand your life’s work. “I think it’s extremely passionate. It’s not pornographic, more like sensually tasteful, I’d say.”

  Overhead a speaker blared and Walt heard himself being paged. “I’d better see what’s going on out there. You two take your time. I’ll be right back.”

  They were alone in the room when Renny finally let himself look at her. She’d touched him of her own accord, but the moment his eyes rested on hers she’d pulled away. She thought his work was passionate. “Do you want to see the rest of them?”

  “I’d love to.” Bree was careful to keep her eyes averted from his. This room was really small, and very hot since she’d unveiled the first sculpture.

  “I call the collection Breathless Passion,” he told her as he went about the task of removing the other covers.

  Breathless was exactly what his sculptures made Bree feel. Each one, twelve in all, were of men and women in various stages of sexual fulfillment—together and separately. She touched them all, hadn’t been able to resist. They were so real, so alluring. Renny Bennett must be some kind of lover to create like this.

  One in particular drew her closer, both her hands moving over the cool, smooth surface. The woman stood with her back facing the man, one foot lifted to rest on an ottoman, one hand fingering her breast while the other reached up to wrap behind her lover’s neck, pulling his head closer to hers. The man was behind her, buried deep inside her womb, his hands grasping her hips as he bent her slightly forward.

  Bree’s heart took on record speed as she examined the piece. For a moment she felt as if she were in the room with that couple. She could smell the distinct aroma of sex and sweat, could feel the tension rising until it clogged her throat. The place between her legs began to throb, her breasts stiffening with the erotic reverie. Then she felt it, his hands on her waist, his thumbs at the base of her back, his fingers splayed over her pelvic bone. He pulled her back to him until his hardness rested against h
er like a silent, but persistent, offering. She inhaled.

  “It leaves you breathless, doesn’t it?” Renny asked with a thickness in his voice he hadn’t intended. Usually his work excited him, not to the point of masturbation or driving him to go out and find the nearest woman to sleep with, but excited him with a feeling of accomplishment. His dedication paid off. But watching Sabrina enjoy his creations, watching her touch the very bodies his fingers had molded did something to him. He envisioned her hands on him as clearly as if she’d turned and undressed him herself. His skin had reacted to each of her caresses as if they were meant only for him. And he wanted her.

  Breathless was an understatement to Bree. She remembered inhaling, but for the life of her she couldn’t release that breath. His hands were still and they weren’t on any real prohibited part of her body, yet they sent sparks of heat through her so intense she’d closed her eyes to keep from sighing. If they were naked and she lifted her own leg he could slip inside her—they’d be just like this sculpture and she’d have the same look of supreme satisfaction on her face that this woman had.

  The doorknob turned with an unmistakable click and Bree rushed away from Renny. The moment Walt entered the room she snatched her hands away from the sculpture and tried to gather her wits.

  “Just a minor problem I had to deal with. So, little missy, how do you like my boy’s work?”

  Renny jammed his hands into his pockets to conceal his burgeoning growth from his longtime friend. He was sort of glad that Walt had picked that moment to return. If not, he wasn’t sure what he was going to do to Sabrina next. She was an enigma. An ex-marine turned bodyguard. A wisp of a woman with the allure of a porn star. An ordinary female with more beauty than a supermodel. What had his brother gotten him into?

  “The pieces are wonderful,” she said in a slow measured tone. “I would venture to say that very creative hands brought them to life. The public is going to love them.” She was looking at Walt as she spoke, but her words were meant for Renny. She’d sensed his insecurity about his work the moment they’d stepped into this room, and wondered where it stemmed from. Most artists, she assumed, were very confident about their creations, almost to the point of being arrogant. But Renny seemed a little leery, as if he were always waiting for approval—for someone to say he’d done a good job.

  He was covering the pieces now, his back to her, and she felt a little deflated. He hadn’t even acknowledged her compliment. Well, it’d be a cold day in hell before the magnificent playboy received another one from her. She couldn’t believe she’d allowed herself the briefest second of romanticizing the man through his work. He was just what she thought he was, a manipulative womanizer. He’d touched her with such softness, such familiarity that she’d, for a moment, believed they’d had some sort of connection. That was absurd. He was Renny Bennett and she was his bodyguard. He was not attracted to her and she was definitely not attracted to him!

  Chapter 3

  Renny was quiet in the car, his body still adjusting to its reaction to Sabrina and his sculptures. If he let his mind wander he’d feel her soft strokes against his skin and the heat would ultimately begin to rise again. So he tried to focus. He turned on the radio. Something by Usher was playing and to his dismay Sabrina started to sing. The lyrics were a bit sexual and bam…his thoughts again turned lusty.

  He rolled down his window, let some of the breeze into the interior of the car. He was losing his mind. He was not supposed to be attracted to her. You’ve got to be kidding. Who wouldn’t be attracted to her? But I’m no good for her. She already thinks I’m some rich playboy. She probably wants picket fences and kids in the yard.

  He stole a glance at her. She had her hands raised as high above her head as they could get in the confines of the car and was snapping her fingers, gyrating the top half of her body to the rhythm of the music. Then again…maybe she didn’t.

  Either way, she definitely didn’t want a one-night stand or even an intense physical affair that would ultimately end badly. She deserved more than that. Besides, Rico would never forgive him if he mixed business with pleasure and he’d hired Desdune Security to do business with the Bennetts. Touching her was definitely out of the question. But he’d already touched her, albeit briefly. He’d already felt her soft curves against him and so help him he desperately wanted to feel them again.

  “What?” she asked when she caught him staring at her. “You don’t like this song?”

  He shrugged. “It’s okay. I’m just not a big Usher fan.” But he was definitely a fan of the way the man’s music had her body moving. This little woman continued to wreak all kinds of havoc on his libido.

  “Then let’s find something to loosen you up a little. I’m tired of you looking all grim over there.” Bree leaned forward and pushed the buttons that roamed the radio stations.

  “Ooh, I love this one.” She swayed slowly from side to side as the smooth voices of Boyz II Men vibrated through the speakers.

  Oh, hell, no! Renny’s mind screamed. Was it pure coincidence or pure torture that they were singing “I’ll Make Love To You” at the same time he was fighting a tremendous hard-on.

  Renny gripped the steering wheel even tighter, praying his pants were baggy enough not to give away his state of mind.

  “I know you like this one. All men like this one.” Bree gave him a brief smile. She touched his arm and sang along with the four men of the group. Renny’s muscle tensed beneath her hand and she frowned. “Are you always this happy?”

  He clenched his teeth so tight his head started to hurt. “I didn’t say I didn’t like the song. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” About one hundred and twenty pounds of gorgeous female, come to think of it.

  “Is it the letters? Are you worried about whoever is stalking your family?” Bree grew serious, reaching over to turn the radio down. She was being insensitive. His family was dealing with a lot right now, the merger and these threats. It had to be hard on him since he and his brothers seemed so close.

  No, it wasn’t that, because he thought that was some big promo scheme thought up by the execs at Coastal Technologies, but he couldn’t tell her the real reason. “That and the opening.”

  “Oh, your gallery? Is that where we’re going now?”

  “Yes. I need to talk with the decorator and make sure things are moving along smoothly.”

  Bree sat back and looked out the window. It was early afternoon. People lined the streets either heading for their lunch breaks or to run some mundane errand; that’s all they did around here. “So, what made you get into art? I mean, did you need some type of hobby?”

  He cut his eyes at her once, then paid attention to the right turn he was making. Her flippant question had sounded a lot like his father. And here he’d thought she really got his work. “It’s not a hobby. At least not for me. I’ve always been good with my hands.”

  Bree shifted uncomfortably at his remark. “Oh? Really?”

  He knew she was thinking of his comment in the wrong context and most likely with the wrong female, but he ignored the thought. “As a kid I used to spend hours drawing. I went through so many sketchbooks and pencils that my father threatened to cut down all the trees in our backyard to keep me in supply. He didn’t mind my drawing so much back then.” It was only when he’d grown up that Marvin said it was time to put that task to rest.

  “How does he feel about your career choice now? I mean, since you obviously don’t care for the family business.”

  “It’s not that I don’t care for the business. I get all the stock reports for Bennett Industries. I know all of our products and all of our customers. I’ve read and reread this merger file a billion times. It’s my family and my family business, so naturally it means something to me.” He took a deep breath. “Sculpting just means more.”

  “I know what you mean,” she said softly.

  “You do?” He pulled into the parking lot behind the newly renovated building. “Do you have a big family?”<
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  “I guess you could say that. There’s Sam and me, we’re the youngest of the bunch. Then there’s Lynn and Cole, Mom and Dad. My parents are from Louisiana. They have a chain of Creole restaurants along the coast called Lucien’s.”

  Renny switched the engine off and sat back in his seat. “I’ve heard of them. Actually, I’ve been to the one in New York. They have great food. So why aren’t you in the restaurant business?”

  “While I love to cook, slaving behind a hot stove for a bunch of patrons was never my idea of the perfect career.”

  Because she looked so vulnerable at this moment, and the hollow of her neck seemed to glisten in the sunlight that streamed through the window, Renny reached over and traced a finger over the bare skin.

  Bree jumped. “Look, Bennett, I wasn’t going to say anything about this touching habit of yours, but now I don’t have a choice.”

  Renny grinned. Did he have a touching habit where she was concerned?

  “Just because we’re going to be working in close proximity doesn’t give you free privileges. I’m not one of the women you trifle with—not that I needed to remind you of that—but regardless, I won’t be fondled by you, either.”

  Renny blinked, wondering what she’d meant by not needing to remind him that she wasn’t like other women. Of course she didn’t need to remind him, he knew very well how different she was. And that, ultimately, was the problem.

  But it was his problem and he’d deal with it. “Relax, Sabrina. Since the window was open some of that pollen stuff blew into the car. I was simply wiping it off of you. I have no intention of fondling you while you’re working.”