Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series)

by Beauman, Cate

  Beth brought the check by. “Here you go.”

  “Thanks.”

  Wren plucked the bill from his hand. “My treat.”

  “If that’s the way you want it.”

  “It is.” She grabbed her purse from the chair and rifled through her bag, unearthing a twenty from her wallet. “There.” She placed the bill on the table, and he snagged her hand.

  “Thanks, Cooke.”

  “No problem.”

  “Not just for lunch. For the whole day, and last night too.” Wren had been everything he needed when she found him by Staci’s bedroom. She’d walked with him back to the room they were sharing for the time being, tucked him into her bed, and held him, stroking her cool fingers along his skin, banishing the worst of the dread. He’d fallen asleep breathing her in and woke with her still wrapped in his arms. He never should’ve opened the damn door. It had messed him up all over again.

  “You’re welcome. I had fun.” She squeezed his fingers and freed her hand.

  “Me too.” On a whim, he leaned over the small table, gripped her chin, and brushed her lips with his, testing.

  She pulled back. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s called kissing you.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “It was part of the ‘thank you.’”

  “Kisses aren’t necessary. I wanted you to smile today. That’s what friends are for.”

  He nodded, studying her until she looked away and stared at the jukebox across the room. Wren had made reference to their friendship several times throughout the day: at breakfast when they stopped off at his favorite diner; at Peak Adventures when they took breaks from careening down the steep, snow-packed hills on tubes, laughing as he and Staci had laughed that long ago Christmas; and again just now.

  Wren didn’t seem to mind casual affection, like the arm slung around her shoulders as they walked along Main Street, heading for the sports bar. She’d wrapped her arm around his waist, grinning while they talked the entire way. Intimacy seemed to be their problem. She wanted nothing to do with it, even after they destroyed each other in the sack and she comforted him through the night. “We back here again already, Cooke?”

  Her gaze met his. “Back where?”

  “Don’t give me that.”

  Beth came to the table and took the bill and cash. “Let me get you some change.”

  “Thank you,” he murmured, never taking his eyes off Wren’s. “If I had a dollar for every time you dropped friend or friendship into our conversations today, I’d be a rich man.”

  “You are a rich man,” she scoffed.

  He grinned. “You got me there.”

  She smiled. “What’s wrong with friends?”

  “Not a thing, but we’re more than that.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t complicate this.”

  “Cooke—”

  “I don’t want anything more than that.” She pulled her jacket from the back of her chair, put it on, and zipped it up.

  “Too late.”

  She sighed wearily. “Why can’t you leave this alone?”

  “Because I want you.”

  “Well, I don’t want you.” She stood, slung her purse over her shoulder, and started toward the exit.

  “Wait a minute, Cooke.”

  She kept walking.

  Beth came back. “Here you are, sir.”

  “Keep the change,” he said as he grabbed his jacket and hurried after Wren, snagging her arm as she reached the door. “I said wait. You’re not happy with me. I get that, but I’m still in charge of your safety.”

  “Exactly.”

  They stepped out into the crowds and made their way to the Jeep. “So, that’s the new angle? I’m the bodyguard and you’re the principal?”

  She slid him a scathing glance. “I don’t need an angle.”

  “I agree. I have feelings for you; you have feelings for me. It can be as simple as that if you let it.”

  She stopped in her tracks. “Don’t tell me about my feelings. I don’t want to talk about this. Let’s get back to the house. I have work to do.”

  Work. Her safety net. He almost called her out on it, but let the subject go. They weren’t going to solve anything on the sidewalk. He unlocked her door and went around to his side.

  He took his seat and turned the ignition while Wren buckled her belt. She glanced in his direction, then looked away.

  “What’s up, Cooke? Are we gonna talk about this or let it fester?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about.” She turned her body and stared out the window.

  “So, that’s it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  Not even close, but he’d wait until they were home to settle this. “You got it.” He shifted into reverse and inched his way into the busy traffic.

  Wren pushed past Tucker as he unlocked the door and tossed her jacket toward the closet in her attempt to hurry to her room and shut him out before he could follow. She had no doubt he would follow. The car ride home had been short but tense. She didn’t want to talk about the conversation he started at the restaurant. Why did he have to mess up a good day? They’d had fun racing down the snowy peaks, laughing as she hadn’t…ever. Why couldn’t he leave it there?

  “Cooke.”

  She walked faster as his long strides ate up the distance between them. “Leave me alone, Tucker. I said I was happy to let things fester.” She stepped into the bedroom and swung the door closed, but not before he caught it, came in, and shut it behind him.

  “Well I’m not.” He pulled off his coat and threw it on the bed.

  “I have stuff to do. Lot’s of work.” She couldn’t do much of anything with her laptop’s battery low, but Tucker didn’t need to know that.

  “Work can wait.” He whirled her around to face him.

  “Why are you doing this? Why won’t you let this be?”

  “Because yesterday meant something—and last night and today. I care about you.”

  “I care about you too. Can’t that be enough? Can’t we leave it right there?”

  “Why? Because it’s safe.”

  Bull’s-eye. “Because that’s the way I want it.”

  “So that’s the end?”

  “Yes. We’re friends, Tucker. Leave it there.” She walked toward the bathroom in a last-ditch effort at escape.

  “Are you attracted to me?”

  She stopped, turning. “What?”

  “I asked if you’re attracted to me?”

  “You’re a gorgeous man.”

  “I’ll take that as a yes. Do you have fun when we’re together?”

  “Sure. I guess.”

  “You were laughing as much as I was today. We have fun when we’re together.”

  “Okay, so—”

  “I’ll ask the questions, you answer.” He moved closer with every word. “Do you think about me when we’re not together?”

  She stepped backwards as he advanced, colliding with the wall. She swallowed a tingle of nerves as she realized he’d effectively boxed her in. She couldn’t take a breath without inhaling his cologne. “We live in the same house.”

  “Does your heart beat a little faster when I touch you?” He skimmed his finger down her throat, pausing on her hammering pulse point, then continued his teasing journey.

  “Tucker.” She gripped his hand, stopping his movement before she did something stupid and caved in to her desires.

  He laced their fingers. “Because you destroy me, Cooke. Every time you look at me with those gray eyes or that smile.”

  She pressed her free hand to his chest as his heart thundered against her palm. “Don’t.”

  “Why?�
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  “Because I’m not what you’re looking for.”

  “Don’t tell me what I’m looking for, Cooke. I know exactly what I want.”

  “I’m not good at this. I don’t do relationships. My job—”

  “Is safe.”

  She frowned. “Is demanding. Are you implying I hide behind my work?”

  “Swatches and paint chips won’t let you down the way people do.”

  He knew her so well, understood too much. She tried harder to push him away, terrified by how much she wanted him to stay. “I ha—”

  “I want more than just a roll in the sheets. I want you to let me in, the way you did when we moved together and you were too caught up to be afraid.”

  She wanted to believe him as she stared in his eyes—more than anything. “I’m sorry, Tucker. I can’t give you what you’re asking for. I wanted to talk about this last night.”

  “So we’ll start as friends.”

  “And end as friends.”

  He shrugged. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  She blinked, then narrowed her eyes, studying him. What was he up to? He’d let that go too easily.

  “But I want one last kiss.”

  She scoffed and shook her head. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “That’s not so much to ask. One meaningless kiss before we let this go.”

  He had no idea how much he asked. “Fine, then friends from here on out.”

  “You got it.”

  She leaned in, ready to end this rollercoaster ride, and gave him a peck. “There you—”

  “Not so fast, Cooke.” He captured her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. “I want a kiss. I want you to think about what you and I will both be missing every time you look at me.”

  “Tucker…” She pressed against his chest, realizing her mistake. She didn’t need any reminders of what she was going to miss. Yesterday would be seared in her mind for some time.

  He brushed his lips over hers, rubbing, teasing, while he stared in her eyes.

  Butterflies danced in her stomach and she tried to pull back. “That’s enough,” she whispered.

  He held her still. “We’re just getting started.” He nipped and nibbled her bottom lip and traced with his tongue until her fingers clutched the sleeves of his shirt and her eyes fluttered closed.

  He eased back, ever so slightly, their breath mingling, and her mouth sought his, wanting more. He captured her lips with the slightest of pressure, and she groaned, eager for the invasion of his tongue. He deepened the kiss by degrees, and her hands slid up his arms, along the back of his neck and finally wandered into his hair as she drowned in Tucker’s taste and her own desire.

  He plunged and plundered, and she whimpered, struggling not to slide down the wall and pull him with her.

  He brought her under again, then eased away.

  “Wait,” she protested with a murmur, moving in for more.

  He groaned, diving, once, twice, looking at her as he pulled back. “Just friends, Cooke?”

  How could she possibly respond when he’d undone her so completely? “I don’t know.” She shook her head as if breaking out of his trance. “I don’t know, Tucker.”

  “I do. I’ll be right here waiting while you figure it out.”

  He stood among the trees watching through his binoculars as Wren and Tucker mouth-fucked. Could Prince Charming shove his tongue any further down her throat? He shook his head. Don Juan might be pretty, but he lacked finesse.

  He’d searched long and hard to find Wren, and he sure as hell didn’t come to see this. He ground his teeth as her beautifully sculpted hands wandered up his muscular arms and tangled in his thick black hair. They’d been all over each other all day—at Peak Adventures, tubing down hills like foolish teenagers; walking down Main Street wrapped around one another; now.

  Tucker Campbell was proving himself to be some bodyguard—probably should’ve followed Pops into the hotel business and left protecting the beautiful to someone more interested in safety than getting off. Wonder what Ethan would think.

  Smiling, he dropped his binoculars and pulled from his bag the camera already equipped with the long-range lens and snapped away, looking forward to sending his work along to clue in big brother. Surely fraternizing with baby sister was against some sort of rule. After all, there was a lunatic on the loose. He snickered at his own wit and zoomed in, capturing a particularly excellent close up of Pretty Boy’s tongue darting into sissy’s mouth. So graphic. The image really sent the point home that a lot more than door and window checks were going on around here. Bastard.

  Nothing would please him more than to cause the handsome prince a few problems. He deserved them. And Wren… She lied. They were both going to have to be taught a lesson. He couldn’t stand liars, but even more, he hated Tucker Campbell. For that alone he would make it good. He shoved the camera back in his bag and pulled his binoculars free, peaking through one last time as Tucker and Wren held each other close, talking as if no one else mattered, but he was here now. They were going to start paying attention. In fact, the games were just about to begin.

  Chapter 12

  Wren rolled over and opened her eyes to the flashing digital clock on the table. “Yes!” She tossed the covers back, scrambled out of bed, and screamed as Tucker grabbed his gun in a two-handed grip and sat up, pointing his weapon in her direction.

  Wren gaped as she pressed a hand to her racing heart. “What are you doing?”

  “Jesus, Cooke,” he said at the same time. “Why the hell are you rushing out of bed like that? You scared the shit out of me.” Blowing out a deep breath, he set the pistol on the table and lay against his pillow, eyeing her the whole time.

  “The power’s back on. I need to see if we have Internet.”

  His brow shot up as he crossed his arms above his head and settled in against his elbow. “I’m going to have to kill you if you do that again.”

  “Mission almost accomplished. My heart’s still pounding.”

  “Profit margins aren’t worth dying for.”

  “Point taken. I’m sorry I startled you, but I have to get to work. Patrick has his breakfast meeting with Lenora and her gardener. I’m really hoping I can check in—maybe lend a little moral support and remind him of some of our key points. He must be exhausted.”

  “I thought he was handling everything.”

  “He is—really well, actually, but like I said a couple days ago, this is a huge week for us and he’s on his own. The Movenbeck Project went well. Now we need to finish strong with Lenora and several of our smaller projects I haven’t been able to work on without power.”

  “You guys are doing fine. The Movenbecks’ shindig was a success, and Lenora’s not bitching.”

  “For now. If we want the trend to continue, I need to put mockups together for her master suite and get a look at the rooms Patrick took pictures of for our new clients. I’m two days behind. I don’t have a lot of time to chat.” She grabbed her laptop, cellphone, and their accompanying chargers and raced toward the dining room, escaping.

  Tucker looked good enough to eat with those sleepy eyes, disheveled hair, and dark scruff of beard. And that chest of his. She blew out an unsteady breath as she remembered hot, sweaty skin rubbing against hers, pressing her into the mattress.

  Work. She needed to work and avoid any more alone time with him for a while. They’d been in each other’s way for two days straight. Swatches and paint chips won’t let you down like people do. She dismissed Tucker’s theories behind her obsessive dedication to her profession—even if there was an uncomfortable stirring of truth behind his words.

  And so what if there was? She’d been living her life just fine, content to follow her own rules until Tucker entered the picture and started mess
ing things up with his sexy grins and heart-stopping kisses.

  She plugged her electronics into the socket with more gusto than necessary as she glanced toward the hall leading to their bedrooms. Hopefully the power was here to stay. Tucker could go back to his own room, and she could actually sleep instead of stare at the ceiling while he lay next to her in nothing more than his boxers, churning her up.

  Tucker Campbell was turning her upside down and inside out, confusing her, making her feel things she didn’t want to feel. He’d given her some space last night after he proved his point with another mind-numbing kiss—plenty of time to stew in her own sexual juices while he checked the house and worked out in the home gym, but then he’d come back and stripped down to almost nothing while he held her gaze and helped himself to half of her bed.

  She’d wanted to tell him to get out, the words had been on the tip of her tongue, but he’d continued to stare at her in the firelight, challenging her with those smug eyes, so she’d clenched her jaw, tugged off her pajama bottoms, and had the satisfaction of watching him swallow while she walked to the bed in skimpy panties and a clinging spaghetti-strap sleep-top. The move had been childish, and she’d been playing with fire, but she’d be damned if she was going to suffer alone.

  But that was over now. The turmoil would end today, damn it. It was time to get things back to normal around here—or close enough. She powered on her laptop and phone, holding her breath, waiting for them to boot up, and smiled her triumph as her cell screen showed four bars of service and her computer linking into the Internet. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  She signed into her e-mail account and was immediately inundated by pages of unopened messages in her inbox. She would be swamped for hours trying to play catch up, but first she needed something quick to eat and a cup of coffee…after she texted Patrick.

  I know you’re busy with breakfast  . Give me a call when you finish up and we’ll schedule a Skype, or if you need me beforehand, just holler. Looks like we might be back in business.