by Rachel Grant
Hazel knew none of this. Her job had been to witness her sister and Matthew Clark meeting for what the world—and Hazel—needed to believe was the first time.
Sean’s job had been to guard Ivy until Matt—who was more than capable of protecting her, as he had in Palau—could take over, but Sean still had to watch Matt’s back and couldn’t let himself be distracted by the boss’s sexy cousin.
Now the boss’s sexy cousin was the job. And the job was pretending to fall in love with her.
“Can I get you anything?” she asked. “Water? Beer? Cheese puffs?”
He was about to say no when her last offer surprised him. “Are they the nuclear-orange kind?”
“No way. All-natural white cheddar.”
“There is nothing natural about cheese puffs.”
“I suppose that’s true. But they’re so addictive.”
She grabbed a bag from a cabinet and filled a bowl with them. He didn’t really want cheese puffs, but it was something to focus on. She looked tired and worried. He assumed she hadn’t been able to sleep because of her work in Croatia, but passing out in the lake was scary too.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked as she settled on the couch.
She sat with her back to the armrest, facing him, and pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. Her body was a tight ball and he didn’t miss the sadness in her eyes. Was she upset with him? Or was it stress and fear? She certainly had plenty of reason for all the jumbled emotions.
“Not really.”
She’d gone silent on their text conversation after he explained why he was still on his way, and it wasn’t until he’d pulled up to the gate and stopped the car to punch in his code that he had a chance to reread their conversation and it hit him how his last line sounded.
It was the damn “really.” It stressed a point that didn’t need stressing. He could just as easily have said, So the fact that I took off tonight like I did will show her how crazy I am about you.
But he hadn’t said it because it was too damn close to the truth. He didn’t even remember the trip from his apartment to the car. One moment, he was sitting on the couch watching TV, then his phone buzzed, letting him know she’d logged in to the security system. He’d had his shoes on and keys in hand before she reached the front door.
He’d scribbled a note to his mother by the time Hazel stepped outside and turned the alarm back on. From there, it was a blur until he was on the GW Parkway and she’d sent the code word that meant everything.
Rum.
It wasn’t lost on him why she’d selected rum, and it wasn’t because it was only three letters and easy to type quickly. She’d cursed rum vehemently that night in his room.
He reached out and took a cheese puff from the bowl. It made a satisfying crunch, and he had to admit, the white cheese was good. He’d had several more and caught Hazel’s tired smile. “See,” she said. “Addictive.”
“Agreed.” He licked the cheese powder from his fingers and wished she’d eat some so he could watch her do the same. Apparently, he was a masochist.
If he made love to her, she’d lose the shadows in her eyes. Maybe if she ate some puffs, he could lick the cheese from her fingers. From there, he would explore her body…and in the end, she’d be so exhausted and satisfied, there’d be no room for bad dreams. She’d fall asleep in his arms and would wake up fixed.
Except life didn’t work that way. He couldn’t fix Hazel with sex any more than he could fix his sister with thoughts and prayers. Hazel needed therapy and his sister needed chemo. And he was at a loss how he could help on both fronts.
“I’m sorry I got you out of bed,” she said.
He shook his head. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was watching TV.”
“Yeah? What were you watching?”
“Battlestar Galactica. The reboot.”
“Ooh. I’ve always wanted to watch it. Never had time.”
“It’s a great show.”
“Is it streaming? We can watch it here.”
“You really need to start with the first episode.”
“I don’t mind. We can watch whatever you were watching.”
“Nah. The first episode is fine.” He’d watched the whole series years ago. Tonight, he’d been flipping through the episodes, trying to find good ones without the cancer storyline.
Hazel grabbed a remote and hit a button. A panel on the facing wall retracted, revealing an eighty-inch TV screen. “Sweet,” Sean said.
“Living here has its perks.”
He laughed. “I bet.”
Not surprisingly, Rav subscribed to every streaming service and had broadband speed that would make Silicon Valley envious. It only took a minute for Hazel to find the show and hit Play. “You sure you don’t want anything to drink? More cheese puffs?”
“Nah. I’m good.”
Hazel dimmed the lights and settled back on the far end of the couch. The volume was low, but the sound system was set to quiet music and sound effects as needed to hear dialogue. They were twenty minutes into the story when he noticed she was just as tense as she’d been when he arrived. And he didn’t think it was triggered by what was happening on the screen. Although a show depicting genocide was probably not the best choice for her at the moment.
Smooth move, dipshit.
The couch was deep and comfy, an L-shaped sectional that could easily accommodate two people lying side by side on his end of the L. He had an idea. Maybe not a good one, but it was better than his brilliant suggestion of watching millions of people get nuked by Cylons.
He paused the show, grabbed the thick fleece blanket draped over the back, and patted the cushion next to him. “Come’ere.”
She cocked her head but didn’t move.
“Come on. Let’s get comfortable. Then if you get sleepy, you can drift off.”
She looked skeptical, but she inched toward him.
“I promise I won’t bite.” Unless you ask me to.
Her lips twitched. “If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that.”
He chuckled.
She inched closer but stopped short, reminding him of a wary cat. He wanted to pull her in his arms, hold her, but not if it would make her uncomfortable. She hadn’t exactly been thrilled both times he scooped her out of the water. “Will you let me hold you, just for comfort?”
Her brow furrowed. “I can’t remember the last time someone just held me.”
“Me neither.” He’d dated plenty over the years but hadn’t gotten serious with anyone since he’d been in the Navy. Sure, there’d been sex, but not much in the way of cuddling or emotional investment.
Her mouth twisted. “The last time might be when I was twenty and caught my boyfriend cheating. Ivy held me as I cried and promised she’d wreak cyber revenge.”
He laughed. He didn’t want to know what sort of revenge computer wizard Ivy was capable of. “Okay, then. Pretend I’m Ivy.”
She smiled as she shook her head. “I don’t think that will work.”
He reached out and stroked her cheek. She looked so vulnerable and achingly beautiful in the dim light cast by the paused TV. “I want to help you, Hazel, but I’m not a psychotherapist. I don’t know what to do.” And frankly, the broken look in her eyes when she’d answered the door tonight scared the hell out of him. He was so out of his depth.
She crawled forward and settled next to him, stretching out lengthwise beside him but keeping air between their bodies. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. She let out a soft sound of surprise and pleasure and relaxed against him.
His heart shifted or opened or maybe it grew three sizes. He didn’t know what the hell happened in his chest, but it was something. Maybe he could do this. Be the friend she needed and not screw up his job by sleeping with her.
Thirty minutes later, Hazel drifted to sleep. He could tell by the way her body relaxed into him as much as by the even cadence of her breathing. He hit the remote to power of
f the TV. The room descended into darkness. He wrapped his other arm around her, shifting position slightly to get more comfortable, then he buried his nose in her hair and breathed her in. She’d long since washed away the scent of lake water. Now she smelled of shampoo and something nutty that held notes of chocolate. He’d noticed the scent on her before. Whatever it was, he thought of it as sweet, pure Hazel.
He closed his eyes and relaxed with her curled up against his side and couldn’t remember the last time anything felt so right.
7
Alec leaned against the arched entry and stared at the sleeping couple. He smiled, already hearing Isabel’s “I told you so” in his mind.
He doubted there was more to this scene than what was before him. They were both clothed, and if they’d wanted to fool around, Hazel’s bedroom—which had a door for privacy, unlike this living room—was mere feet away. He’d been woken by the security system at midnight and had seen Hazel step outside on the security monitor. He’d been about to chase her down when she stopped and looked at her phone. Sean was on duty, even when home in his DC condo.
Alec had waited to see what she’d do and had been satisfied Sean had things under control when she stepped back inside. He’d been alerted again when Sean arrived, and at that point, he’d rolled over and gone back to sleep, secure in the knowledge there was another trained operative in the house. He didn’t figure the man was here for a booty call, but even if he were, they were all safer with another operative on the premises.
He still wasn’t sure why Sean had come over after Hazel was safely back inside, but seeing them nestled together on the couch made him think it had more to do with Sean caring about Hazel than bodyguard duties. So, there was a good chance Hazel’s feelings went both ways. He liked the idea, not that it was any of his business one way or the other. He liked Sean, and he loved Hazel. If this worked out, great. If it went south, well, he knew them both well enough that it wouldn’t be the kind of drama that would force him to pick sides.
Hazel shifted in Sean’s arms, and Alec retreated, glad they’d carpeted the upper floor so his steps were silent. Hazel had been having trouble sleeping, and this was the first time she’d slept past six in the morning since she’d arrived ten days ago. He’d let them both wake up naturally. They deserved that luxury this morning. Alec had planned to talk to Sean before he called Ian to tell him he wanted to bring a different date, but it looked like that might not be the issue Isabel feared it was. Alec would still talk to him, but it could wait until Sean had coffee.
Hazel and Sean. It might not be hard for them to pull off this fake-relationship thing after all. He’d tell Isabel this had been his plan all along. She’d know he was full of shit, but it would make her laugh. And there was nothing he liked more than that.
A heavy weight pressed on Sean’s chest. He slowly opened his eyes. Morning light filled the room, and two dark eyes were staring down at him. Feline eyes, which came with feline breath that was being expelled just an inch from his nose. Gandalf didn’t look pleased to find Sean sleeping on what he could only assume was the cat’s favorite couch. Or maybe it was Hazel he’d claimed, and he didn’t like the way Sean was holding his girl.
She’s mine, cat.
Not hardly. But for the next few weeks…sort of.
He reached up to make peace by petting the cat, and Hazel stirred at his side. She jolted as if she would spring up and back away from their intimate position—her body tucked against him, her shoulder nestled between his side and his arm with her cheek on his chest—but he tightened the arm that cradled her, stopping her from fleeing. He didn’t want her to bolt and make this awkward. Having her curled against his side was the most pleasant way he’d woken up in months.
Well, except for the perturbed cat staring down at him. “No sudden moves, or Gandalf might shred my chest.” Okay, so the cat had given him the perfect excuse to keep Hazel close. Thank you, Gandalf.
She let out a soft giggle. “He can be pretty territorial when it comes to men.” She reached up and pet him, and said in a singsong voice, “It’s okay, Gandalf. Sean’s not all bad.”
He laughed, causing his chest to shake, and the cat’s claws dug in. Thankfully, the blanket was thick and Gandalf didn’t draw blood. “Not all bad?”
She smiled up at him, and his heart might’ve flipped if it weren’t in jeopardy from a territorial cat. “Some parts of you are even good.”
“Which ones?” His hand, which rested on her waist, itched to explore and caress. But he controlled the wayward appendage. He didn’t want to ruin this by doing something they’d regret.
“The parts that held me so I could sleep without dreaming for the first time in weeks.”
Gandalf settled on his chest, apparently accepting Hazel’s endorsement. Wasn’t there a cartoon Hazel who was a witch? Maybe Gandalf was her familiar. “You slept well?”
She nodded, stroking the cat, then she rose on her elbow and kissed his cheek. “I slept great. Thank you.”
He might be sore from sleeping all twisted up with her, but it was worth it, seeing her eyes clear of exhaustion and sorrow. “You’re welcome. Anytime.”
“Having a fake boyfriend isn’t so bad.”
“Whoa. Don’t go crazy with the compliments this morning. I might develop a big ego.”
“Hey, you moved up from not all bad to not so bad.”
Oh, but sweetheart, you will like me when I’m bad. Thank goodness he had the control to not say those words aloud. Flirting with Hazel was just too damn easy.
She slid from his side and sat up. “I should jump in the shower. We need to hurry if you’re going to have time to get home and change before my psychotherapy appointment this morning.”
“I’ll just shower here. I’ve got a bag in the trunk. When your job is twenty-four seven, you learn to be prepared.”
“All right, then. I’ll jump in the shower while you grab your bag. If Isabel’s up, she’ll have started coffee. If Alec is the only one up, you’ll be on your own. He doesn’t drink coffee and doesn’t know how to use the coffeemaker. It’s scary complex for something that’s just hot water poured over ground beans. I only just finished the prerequisite course to learn how to operate it.”
He shifted, and Gandalf jumped from his chest. “I was certified on that baby years ago. Before Isabel moved in, we’d sometimes hide people here in a pinch. Do you want cream or sugar?”
Her eyes widened with joy. “Cream, please.” She stepped into her bedroom. “I could get used to this fake-boyfriend stuff if it means a solid night’s sleep and fresh coffee.”
He smiled as the door closed behind her. He could get used to this too if it meant she woke up happy and energetic, like the Hazel he’d met years ago.
He was still smiling as he entered the kitchen and found his boss sitting at the breakfast nook with a mug of hot chocolate and a tablet. Rav glanced up from his reading. A slow smile spread across his face as he leaned back in his chair.
“Mornin’, boss,” Sean said as casually as he could manage. Like it was an everyday thing that he waltz into his boss’s kitchen at seven a.m. after holding his beautiful—and vulnerable—cousin in his arms all night. He cleared his throat. “For the record, nothing hap—”
Rav cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Don’t worry, I pieced most of it together from the security log. And for the record, it would be none of my business if anything did happen.”
“Disagree. You’re my client. You hired me to guard her. That makes it your business. I want you to know I don’t screw around on the job.”
“I know you don’t, Sean. And technically, you weren’t on the job last night. Once Hazel was back inside the front door, she was safe to the level we agreed to. You didn’t need to come here. That was your choice. So don’t tell me you landed on my doorstep at one a.m. because you were concerned Hazel wasn’t protected.”
Sean could give the line about coming over to make the relationship lie more plausible for his mo
ther, but Rav would see right through it. “She said she couldn’t sleep. And after what happened in the lake yesterday, I was worried about her.”
“Thank you. I’ve been worried too.” His brows pulled in. “Can we step into my office? I need to talk to you about this weekend.”
“Of course.” He was curious why this couldn’t be said in the kitchen, considering the only people in the house were the four who knew the truth. Isabel must’ve been up already because there was a full pot of coffee. He poured himself a cup, then followed Rav down the hall to his ground-floor office.
Once they were in the room with the door closed, they each took seats on the opposite sides of Rav’s large, modern desk. This wasn’t a stately office for show. The furniture was made of fine wood, but it wasn’t frilly or ornate. Each piece was sleek and functional. It suited Rav much more than his office in the Senate, which was antique in keeping with the architecture.
“Isabel reminded me last night that I didn’t really give you a choice about this job and suggested you might’ve felt coerced into saying yes. I want to be clear. You can refuse. If you don’t want to go through with the charade at the wedding, just say the word and we’ll scrap the plan. I’ll figure something out for Hazel’s security.”
Sean held Rav’s gaze, trying to read him. Was this a cursory offer to placate Isabel, or did he mean it? But when did Rav ever say something he didn’t mean?
In Sean’s experience, never.
Did he want out? To be able to enjoy the wedding and celebrate with his friends? The idea held a certain appeal. He’d be solo at the wedding. No Tricia as his real date or Hazel as his fake one. But there was one problem with that idea. “Do you believe Hazel is in danger?”
Rav nodded. “Yes. I think they both are.”
“I’m in, then.” He wouldn’t be able to enjoy the wedding if he was worried about Hazel’s security. “Can you tell me anything more about the threat? It would help if I knew what to look out for.”
