Billionaire Bodyguard

by Kristi Avalon

  Could sex get better each time, with the right person?

  Wonderment left her dizzy at the thought.

  He eased out of her, lowering her carefully until her feet met the hardwood floor. Her legs trembled. He swept her with a possessive, sexually-charged glance. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  Delivering a sizzling kiss that promised more passion in store, he stroked her cheek and turned. She watched him amble toward his kitchen, offering a spectacular rear view. He was muscular, masculine perfection. Not over-developed like Trevor’s compact bulk, but tall, athletic, divinely proportioned. She marveled as she had looking up at Michelangelo’s David in Florence for the first time.

  Logan seemed unaffected by his nudity. As if it were ordinary to have mind-blowing sex against his great room wall and then strut around naked and still half-hard.

  By contrast, her whole body blushed, infused with awkward self-consciousness. A wet trickle oozed down her inner thigh. Alarmed, she raced for the closest cover, an Aztec-design blanket draped over the back of his sofa. She whipped it around herself.

  Then, seeing their clothes strewn across the floor, a lamp on a nearby table teetering, and the picture askew on his wall, she descended into panic. An old, dark instinct for self-preservation seized her. She scooped their clothes off the ground, folded them clumsily, righted the lamp, and reached for the crooked picture frame.

  “Allison. What are you doing?”

  She froze. She’d tried to make things perfect before he returned. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  She reached for the frame again. “I’ll make it right.”

  “Stop.”

  Repentant, she obeyed his order and faced him. Like a child bracing for punishment.

  Logan stood stock-still, a towel in one hand and a heaping bowl of ice cream the other. He stared at her. “What’s wrong?”

  Shame scorched her bare skin. “I didn’t mean to make a mess.”

  “Who cares?”

  Her lips parted. “You’re not angry?”

  “Why would I be?” Approaching her, he grinned. “I happen to like seeing your clothes on my floor, and having you naked in my house.” Slinging the towel over his shoulder, he transferred the bowl to his other hand and reached for her.

  She tensed. His arm lowered to his side.

  Concern flashed in his eyes. “I thought since I had my dessert, you’d like some, too.”

  “How nice,” she murmured, unsure of his ulterior motive. The first time they’d had sex she’d left his hotel room before dawn, the space immaculate as if she’d never been there. She gestured at the rumpled clothes, the cockeyed picture. “I will clean it up, I promise.”

  “I don’t care. Why are we even talking about this?”

  She stared at the floor.

  He studied her for a long moment. “Look at me.”

  She forced herself to meet his eyes. She wasn’t certain what she’d find there.

  All that awaited her was compassion, and something else. She couldn’t identify the churning emotions in his stare. He didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t appear angry with her. More like a stark revelation taking hold.

  “My God, Allison. What did he put you through?”

  Dampness seeped along her lashes. It was the first time anyone asked her that. At last, recognition of what she’d endured in her marriage, even though he didn’t know the half of it. No one cared to hear about someone’s broken, damaged life. She learned that quick, the first time Trevor smashed a vase against the wall beside her head. Shocked and shaken, she’d gone to her neighbor on the military base the next day, a woman with weary eyes and three toddlers tugging at her apron, who’d told her to shut up and pretend it had never happened. Most people liked drifting through life on the surface of things, never getting more involved than the minimum social requirements.

  Logan, however, was not most people.

  She didn’t know whether to feel relieved or terrified. Knowledge was power. A weapon Trevor had wielded with rapier precision, cutting her down until she’d almost believed he was the only person who’d tolerate such a stupid selfish woman. Almost. There’d been a whisper of knowing, a thread of self-respect she’d clung to telling her she didn’t deserve his cruelty for a lifetime. She’d guarded that fiercely, afraid if someone knew the truth of what she’d experienced that fragile cord would snap.

  She dangled by that thread now.

  Her eyes pleaded with Logan not to force a confession or make her recount the facts she’d worked too hard to bury. The vulnerability of revealing the truth would be unbearable.

  “Come here,” he said softly, holding out his arm again.

  Tentatively, she stepped toward him. He enfolded her in a powerful embrace. For a moment it seemed as if his arms alone could shield her from the hell she’d left behind.

  He held her. Just held her, like he’d never let go.

  Gradually, her defenses yielded. Her body gave up its tenseness, easing until her physical and emotional weight rested in his effortless strength. As if she was no burden at all.

  He kissed her hair. His lips were soft. His grip was firm and steadfast.

  She had never felt so safe. Sheltered from whatever fate hurled at her.

  There was one thing remarkably absent.

  Loneliness.

  “Personally,” he said, “I could stay like this all night. But your dessert is melting. All over the place.”

  “Oh.” She looked at the bowl in his hands, dipping with soggy white froth. Her eyes widened. “Why didn’t you tell me?” She reached for the towel on his shoulder to clean up the goop.

  “Uh-uh.” He pointed to the couch. “Sit down and eat before it turns into soup.”

  “But the floor—”

  He eyed her sternly. “I’ve got it.”

  Once she complied, Logan returned to the kitchen.

  Running a dishtowel under warm water, he released the breath he’d been holding. The one that had held back his full-scale fury. His fist clenched the towel, squeezing out every drop of water he’d used to moisten it.

  He figured it had been bad for her with Trevor. He hadn’t realized how bad.

  As he’d held her, she’d revealed the truth. She didn’t have to say a thing.

  Dropping the towel, he gripped the edge of the sink until his arm muscles shook. If his counters were made of less than granite they might’ve cracked. He lowered his head. He was so damn close to everything he wanted. Except that an abusive scumbag had scarred Allison so deeply she hadn’t healed. She didn’t even know what a decent relationship looked like.

  In her fragile state, Allison might not get through this pregnancy. The thought shattered him. His sister Stephanie had suffered a miscarriage, which Logan had linked to the emotional devastation of losing Dad to cancer three years ago. He couldn’t handle that.

  He wanted this baby so much.

  Their child needed Allison whole and happy. And Logan needed her whole and happy, if she was to accept the life he wanted to give her.

  Lifting his head, he stared out the window into the darkness, then at his own reflection. Rage burned in his eyes.

  Trevor Hurtz needed to be wiped off the planet.

  And Logan was just the man for the job.

  CHAPTER 7

  Allison heard birds chirping. She shifted and stretched. Luxurious softness enveloped her.

  Unused to the sensation, she mentally brushed away the cobwebs of sleep to remember what happened before she’d landed on this cloud. Her core throbbed and pleasure tingled between her thighs.

  In flashes of memory she recalled frantic love-making, the high of bliss. Then she’d tasted a combination of melting ice cream, fresh raspberries and drizzles of maple syrup. Then sleep had pulled her down to couch cushions. Then she was weightlessness, carried tenderly like a bird with a broken wing before getting tucked into the comfort surrounding her now.

  Where am I?

  Disorien
ted, she frowned. At the edge of consciousness, a voice called her name.

  She bolted up to sitting. Staring through blond tangles, she darted her gaze around. Colors of sage and lavender put her at ease. The scents of clean linen and lilac enfolded her. The familiar desk and bookcase grounded her, and pictures of Europe spanned the walls. A warm feeling settled deep inside.

  Home .

  “Allison.”

  Blinking, she found Logan standing beside the bed. Except the towel around his hips, he was damp and naked. He smelled of mint and soap. Still groggy she didn’t have the presence of mind to censor her stare.

  She absorbed the tall rugged male fresh from the shower. Water clung to the ends of his slicked-back hair. A droplet fell and she followed its descent over his broad shoulder, his collar bone. It trickled down his chest before caressing every nuance of muscle along his torso, the indentations outlining tight abs, the tempting arc of muscle defining his hip, before it absorbed into the towel.

  Aroused, her inner thighs tingled again. She craved the taste of that drop on her tongue. She’d never experienced the pure, simple enjoyment of lusting after a man.

  Chills scattered over the tanned expanse of him, raising tiny bumps on his flesh. Had she caused that? Licking her lips, she glanced up.

  Wearing an amused grin, he arched an eyebrow. She scooted back a few inches.

  Awkward!

  “Sleep well?” His deep voice resonated through the room.

  “Yes.” As a notion struck, her eyes widened. “I slept the whole night through.”

  “Is that rare?”

  She nodded. Between the incredible sex, then the way he’d held her, topped by a full night’s sleep…she felt good. Too good. She didn’t trust it.

  “Here.” He handed her a steaming mug. “Fresh brewed. Hazelnut okay?”

  “Fantastic.” She reached for the coffee cup. She blew across the surface then sipped. The hot nutty liquid splashed down her throat. “Mmmm.” She swallowed. “Perfect.”

  Taking another sip, she stole a glance at him between swirls of steam. He regarded her through heavy lids. His cinnamon-cider eyes were veiled. Although she couldn’t place it, she sensed a different energy underlying his calm. Despite his external composure, his mind was churning, weighing, considering, calculating.

  Something had wound him tight.

  “What is it?”

  As soon as she asked, she wanted to retract the question. Their cohabitation demanded a tightrope act. Every step altered the balance. She’d taken too great a leap, leaving him an opening to reverse the momentum and pry into her thoughts in return.

  But he didn’t.

  “Nothing.” The unsettling edge smoothed into nonchalance. “We need to get going.” He gestured to the clock on her nightstand. “Plane leaves in two hours for D.C.”

  “Crap.” She groaned. “I almost forgot about the big presentation.”

  “Your clothes are in the closet. Whatever was in your laundry basket, I had dry-cleaned. That’s in there, too. See you downstairs.” He shut the door behind him.

  Scrambling out of bed, she hurried through her morning routine. She made a mental note to thank him for the lengths he’d gone to ensure her every need was considered and taken care of before she asked.

  As she blow-dried her hair then twisted it through her curling iron, she recognized that a mere “thank you” was inadequate. Applying the finishing touches to her makeup, drawing black liquid liner along her upper lashes, she decided to do the one thing she could for Logan. No matter what, she would land him this government contract.

  Twenty minutes later, a little nervous, she smoothed the front of her skirt before walking downstairs to meet him. He waited in the foyer.

  When he glanced up, he did a double-take. He swallowed, lips parting. “I like the red.”

  Judging by his glazed stare, he liked what was underneath it, too. She’d chosen this borderline-appropriate, corvette-red suit and a black lace camisole with the end result in mind. She’d use everything at her disposal to help him achieve the contract he deserved.

  A pink hue crested his cheeks. “Wearing that, you could convince the devil to buy a timeshare on Antarctica.”

  “Is the prince of darkness on the panel today?”

  Shaking his head, he sighed. “Only us mere mortals.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

  His grin flashed white lightning. “I’m counting on it.”

  Infused with confidence, she strutted across the floor in stilettos. “Let’s nail this contract.”

  His eyelids lowered halfway. “I love it when you talk dirty.”

  When he delivered an affection swat on her rump, she clamped her lips to contain a yelp of surprise. Then she marveled as they exited his house and entered the waiting limo. She’d never been in a limousine. The space was a warm leather sanctuary.

  The driver loaded their carry-on luggage into the trunk. Then they departed for the airport.

  Crystal glasses lined one wall of the vehicle, flanked by expensive liquor options. Logan poured her a glass of bottled water. She cupped the chalice as if one wrong turn would cause her to grip it too tight and shatter it.

  Inhaling a deep breath, she pulled herself together. The glass wasn’t so fragile. Neither was she.

  “I was thinking,” she said. “I want to know the purpose of this presentation. Your purpose. What do you want to happen today?”

  Energized by the question, he leaned forward. “Here’s the deal. These people want to hear about Armageddon, and how I’m going to ride in and save the day.”

  On that count, he was a master. Combine that with flawless business instincts, he was unstoppable. “Okay. So we need to create impending doom before we offer salvation from it.”

  His eyes sparkled like autumn sunlight. “Exactly.”

  “How should we start?”

  “We give them a real-life scenario.” He swept a hand through the air like an artist envisioning his completed canvass. “It’s all about targeting what they want most. What every person wants. Security. Knowing he can live his life without worry, without problems or interruptions. These people are used to perfection. They make millions and that guarantees them cushion from life’s typical strife.”

  “They expect the best. And they’re willing to pay for it.”

  “Right. I’ll ensure their happy lives are eternally preserved.” He peered at her. “But it’s more than that. If I can get my system integrated with the highest-level security networks in the world, I can save more than one family, more than one government. I can impact nations.”

  Allison was enraptured by his passion for preserving the inalienable rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The values he’d fought for, put his life on the line for, as a Special Forces commander. She’d never been more attracted to a man. She felt a personal duty to encourage his momentum. “There are millions less fortunate who’ll benefit.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Can you describe how?”

  “Once my system is synced with international government intel, we’ll have a technological edge each government couldn’t command on its own. I’m the bridge. That’s why I created this system. There are too many loopholes. Too many bastards seep through the cracks. I’m going to seal those cracks. We’re talking a full-blown referendum on terrorists, drug dealers, sex trade exploiters, sickos who spread child porn, and the rest of the morally inept gene pool. I will track them down. Just give me the chance.” His chest rose and fell rapidly.

  Allison hadn’t understood true passion until now. Sexual passion, with him, oh yes. But deep-seated, ferocious desire… “You want to save them all.”

  A severe look arrested his features. “Yes.”

  “You know that’s not realistic.”

  “Yeah, damn it. I know.” Irritation sizzled from him. “Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

  “I’ll write you a great letter of recommend
ation,” she offered brightly.

  Tension ebbed from his features. They shared a smile. “I may take you up on that.”

  After the limo ride, she couldn’t imagine a greater luxury. Logan lived by a totally different set of expectations. She hesitated in front of the steps up to a sleek private jet. Without conscious thought, her hand went to the tiny swell of her abdomen.

  “It’s safe,” Logan stated. “Private jets fly at a slightly lower altitude, faster and more precise than a typical aircraft carrier. The baby will be fine.”

  “Oh. Okay.” The glimmer of instinct that had hit her made her blink. Followed by a blossoming sense of hope.

  In that moment her world opened up to the possibility she might have the elusive maternal instinct she’d feared she lacked like her own mother. Maybe it skipped a generation.

  Floating in a bubble of awe, she ascended the steps into the plane. The interior smelled new, like lemon oil and furniture polish. Real wood paneling added a sheen of graceful elegance.

  “Do you always fly private?” she wondered.

  “Depends. In the states, yes. For international travel, I go the traditional route.”

  There was nothing “traditional” about the way Logan lived or traveled. She decided to focus on the presentation. And the exciting possibility that she might actually possess the ability to bring a baby into the world and take care of it properly. The responsibility was still overwhelming to grasp. Could her saving grace be that she knew how not to raise a child?

  That didn’t exactly sound promising. Her shoulders slumped.

  She took her seat on the right side of the plane, second row. Logan settled across the aisle from her. Despite the narrow space, he seemed far away. She’d sort of hoped he’d sit beside her. Something about his nearness eased her nerves, made intimidating situations more bearable.

  From his laptop bag, he withdrew a daunting sheaf of papers and flipped through the stack. “What’s that?” she asked.

  “A steaming pile of…boring.”

  Gripping her armrests, she needed to concentrate on something other than the speed of the jet and the bump of liftoff. “Like what?”