All That Glitters: Glitz, Glam, and Billionaires

by Michele Hauf

  She stomped her foot. “Really? It’s back to formalities? And after you had your head between my thighs. Unbelievable! Why did you have sex with me, Hawk? Were you planning to sell a tell-all to the tabloids?”

  “I made love to you because all I can think about is you, Becca.” He approached her, but when she stepped back, he stopped, put up his hands, and continued. “I’m with you all day, every day. Following you is my job. But when I’m not around you? Do you think I have a life, a girlfriend? No. And you know why? Because I can’t stop thinking about you. How it would be to kiss you. And, yes, to make love to you. And maybe even be with you just…because.”

  She tilted her head at him.

  “I like you more than I should, Becca,” he said.

  “Why does it have to be more than you should? Why do we have to be a mistake?”

  “Because I don’t want to bring you down when the tabloids find out you’re screwing your lowly bodyguard,” he yelled.

  Becca’s jaw dropped open. The room fell silent. He lowered his head down, clearly unable to look at her. She'd never seen him hold such a demeaning posture. It wasn't right. And it made her feel like dirt.

  “Hawk, you are not my lowly bodyguard.”

  “Yeah? But I’m not the kind of guy who fits your social-climbing profile. And you know the press would crawl all over you if we were ever to—”

  “Have a thing? Like…a relationship?”

  “I’m not even on your level, so it’s moot. You got what you wanted. A night with the bodyguard. And I finally learned what it was like to have sex with you, and—” He exhaled and clapped a hand over his chest. “It was too good, Becca. I shouldn’t have done it because now you’re just here. In my brain, in my thoughts, in my veins. And tonight, when I saw you reading your texts at the fashion show, I knew something was wrong. I worry about you. And I just thought you might need someone to talk to.”

  She was in his veins? Wow. That was—well, it sounded weird, but at the same time kind of romantic. Yet he thought himself not good enough to date her? If anyone in this room wasn’t good enough for the other it was the wild child who could never dream of having the integrity Clinton Hawk possessed.

  And there it was. That feeling in her core. It was kind of warm and a little tight. It wanted to rise, to swallow up her heart, but it tittered and held back is if it might be refused. But no matter, she couldn’t ignore it.

  “Did you like the sex?” she asked quietly.

  He nodded. “You know I did.”

  “What if I wanted to do it again?”

  “I don’t see how that can work.”

  “Right. Because you’re not good enough for me.”

  He sighed.

  At that moment, her phone vibrated on the coffee table. Impulsively, Becca grabbed it before she realized they were in the middle of a serious conversation, and she owed him her full attention. But there it was again. That nasty text from an anonymous sender. She was about to erase it without reading it, but Hawk’s imploring gaze stayed her.

  “I wasn’t going to tell you,” she said. “I didn’t think it was anything. But I’ve gotten two texts from this creep today, and two previously, and now I wonder if I should worry about it.”

  “What is it?” She handed him the phone and he read the message. “Nude selfies?”

  “I got the first text last week. Then another one telling me they were good. And now this one stating that if I want to prevent them from going live, we’d have to talk.”

  “Someone’s trying to blackmail you?”

  “No, Hawk. That’s the thing. I don’t take nude selfies.”

  He glanced up from the phone, giving her that stern are you sure look?

  “Really? I thought you knew me better than that. I’m not stupid. I know that everything on our devices is not private. An industrious person could hack his way into my personal stuff and grab anything he wanted.”

  “You take selfies all the time.”

  “I do. It’s fun. And I love posting the pictures of me and my friends on Instagram. But look at me, Hawk.” He did and she repeated slowly. “I do not take nude pics of myself. Never have, never will.”

  He nodded. “I believe you.”

  That meant the world to her. That he wasn't going to drag this out with disbelief. That he accepted. Because he did know her.

  “So, what does that mean?" he asked. "Why does this person think they have nude pics of you?”

  “I don’t know. I thought it was spam, or a joke. I get texts and emails from strangers and fans all the time. I usually delete them and not think another moment about them. But this is getting insistent. Hawk, should I be worried about this?”

  “Not if you don’t have the nude pics out there. This is your cell phone. You don’t have something on your laptop, do you?”

  “I thought you said you believed me when I said I don’t do nude pics?”

  “I do believe you. I just think this bears investigating.”

  “I don’t want to call the police. You know that’ll land in the tabloids.”

  “I have a friend. He’s a hacker. I could ask him about it. He might be able to track the source of this text. I’m completely illiterate about all this digital stuff.”

  “Me, too. Who is this friend?”

  “He’s…not on the grid, and he may or may not be on the NSA watch list. But I trust him. He’ll be discreet.”

  Becca exhaled. This had turned dangerous fast. But she couldn’t ignore the repeated texts. “If you trust him, then so do I. What do I need to do?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll give him a ring then let you know. He may need access to your cell phone.”

  She nodded. “Whatever. I need something to drink. You want some wine?”

  Without waiting for his reply, she strolled into the kitchen and opened the wine fridge. A gush of cool air chilled her face. She’d needed that.

  Her hands were actually shaking. She’d gone from anger over Hawk’s ridiculous apology to worry for her personal safety. So when the glide of his fingers over her back occurred, Becca set back her shoulders and closed her eyes. That was what she’d really needed. That confident touch of reassurance.

  “I forgive you,” she said.

  He took the wine bottle from her and waited for her to explain.

  “For running away from my bed like a scared chicken. I need us to be okay. Can we be okay?”

  “What does okay imply?” He twisted the cork out of the bottle and handed it back to her.

  She poured them each a goblet of the sweet, dark zin her friend’s father bottled in Burgundy. “Okay means you not carving yourself a slot that can never match up with my slot. It means that I liked what happened last night. And it means I want it to happen again.” She handed him the goblet.

  They stared at one another, the quiet hum of the fridge to their sides. He didn’t quite smile, but that crease at the corner of his eye indicated that he was thinking about it.

  “So does that mean we are lovers?” he asked. “Boyfriend and girlfriend? Friends with benefits?”

  “I don’t do the girlfriend thing very well. Commitment feels so much like…”

  “Committing?”

  She nodded and sipped the wine. “Can we just play with it? Be lovers without worry that someone is going to whisper about us? You’re an amazing man, Hawk. I really…” She spread her palm up his chest. “I know it’s weird, but I think we can move beyond employer and employee.”

  “You realize I may still expect a Christmas bonus?”

  She chuckled. “The Chivas Regal isn’t enough?”

  “I’m not much of a whiskey man.”

  “Mint tea?”

  “I’ll stick with beer, but never while on duty.”

  She took the goblet from him and set it aside along with hers. “You’re not on duty now. You want to have makeup sex?”

  His eyebrow lifted. That smile finally found its place.

  10

  Hawk woke
in Becca’s bed and immediately sat up in a panic. She wasn’t lying beside him, but that wasn’t what startled him. He’d done it again. Slept with his employer. And…

  …he was cool with it this time.

  Right. Just. Be cool.

  He fell backward, landing his head on the pillow and chuckled. The two of them had started something. Something hot. But also, sneaky. Because he didn’t want her to have to answer the question Why are you dating your bodyguard? And it wasn’t because he was embarrassed to hold the job, or for any work he did. It was that social status thing. Heiresses didn’t date the hired help.

  Oh, man, what was he doing?

  No. He wasn’t going there. He didn’t want to. He should enjoy this. It was what was. He’d deal with the implications as they presented themselves.

  What he realized was the clatter from the shower suddenly stopped and a waft of steam carried a lemony scent out from under the bathroom door. It was a weekday. She probably had things scheduled.

  And he was on the clock. Just because they had a thing didn’t mean he could overlook his job.

  He sat up again and scanned the floor for his clothes. Much as he’d love to toss Becca onto the sheets and go another round, he had to get dressed and assume work mode. Pulling up his jeans, he spied her phone on the nightstand and remembered the creepy text about the nude photographs. She insisted that she’d never taken a nudie, and he had to believe her. It was rare that she got so drunk she couldn’t recall things she had done. And if she did over indulge, he was usually four paces behind her.

  No, she hadn’t taken any nude shots. So why the weird, threatening texts? The latest had implied blackmail, as if the next one could ask for something in order for the sender to not publish the pics.

  “Pictures that don’t exist,” he muttered and grabbed his shirt. He should have taken a shower.

  Tossing the shirt onto her bed, he shook his head and then pulled it on. Climbing into her bed was okay, but staying for a shower and acting like the boyfriend? That didn’t feel right. Not yet.

  “Miss—” he started to call out to her, “er, Becca?”

  She popped her head out of the bathroom door, wet, blonde hair falling over her shoulder. “You’re still here. I was worried you might take off again.”

  “I am going to take off. But only because it’s a workday and I suspect you’ve plans, and I need to shower and shave. I’m not trying to escape again. Promise.”

  “You can use my shower.”

  “My clean clothes are downstairs. And—“

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll make us breakfast. Come up when you’re done.”

  “Breakfast? You…know how to cook?”

  “Seriously? I can’t believe you asked me that.”

  Whoops.

  But really? Who had taught her to cook? As far as he knew the chef stopped in every other day to prepare her meals and left some in the freezer to warm up. And every takeout place within a two-mile radius had the doorman’s number.

  “Right. You’ll make breakfast.” He smiled. “I’ll be back soon.”

  An hour later, Hawk had to force down the rubbery scrambled eggs. He tried to nibble the ends off the sausages that were still frozen in the middle, just to make it look as though he were eating what she’d made for him. Hey, she'd tried.

  Becca set down her fork and grabbed his plate.

  “I was eating that!”

  “No, you weren’t. You were being nice. I just bit into an icy sausage.” She dumped the plates in the sink and turned on the disposal. “You do earn points for trying to make it look good.”

  He’d take points, no matter what form. “Coffee is all I need.”

  “There will probably be sandwiches set out for my eleven o’clock meeting with the perfume company. I’ll nab one for you.”

  “You going with the sweet and sour?”

  She nodded. “I do like it. Do you think it’s weird that I’m going to have a perfume named after me? They want to call it Wild Child.”

  “It’ll sell millions.”

  “I’ve made a deal with the manufacturer that my thirty percent cut goes directly to JUSTGIVE.”

  “I suspected you would do something of the sort. Points for you.”

  “I’m not trying to earn points, Hawk. You can have mine.”

  “I’ll take them. I can use all the points I can get with you.”

  “You don’t need to score any points with me. You’ve already earned my trust and respect. What more is there?”

  He sipped the coffee, not sure how to answer that one. It meant a lot that she’d given him her trust. And respect? He couldn’t believe it. But then, he did know their arguments were more banter than real anger at one another. Had he grown on her as much as she had on him?

  She sat across the table from him and caught her chin in hand. This morning her makeup was spare and he noticed the freckles that dotted the bridge of her nose. She usually covered them up.

  “I like those,” he said, leaning across the table to kiss her nose. “You should let them show more often.”

  “What? My freckles? Ugh. These hateful spots are my bane. I haven’t put on my makeup yet cause I wanted to look up how to scramble eggs on YouTube. I failed miserably, didn’t I?”

  “With the eggs?” He wobbled his head. “Yes. But I dare you to let the freckles out today.”

  “You're daring me to let my freak flag fly?”

  “Yes.”

  “Maybe.” She checked her watch. “I’ve only got an hour to get ready. I was thinking we could have sex again, but—”

  “But we wouldn’t want to muss your hair.”

  She teased the ends of her straightened hair and nodded. But then she waggled a stern finger at him. “We are doing this, Hawk.”

  “This?”

  “This thing we started last night. Whether or not you like it.”

  “Oh, I like it. I like you.”

  “Good.” She wiggled on her chair.

  “I gave Mink a call before coming up.”

  “Mink?”

  “He’s the hacker I was telling you about. He doesn’t need your phone, but he does need me to call him back. He’ll walk me through getting the IP address and some other techo info he needs from your phone. Is it all right if I do that?”

  She grabbed her pink phone from the counter and punched in her security code before handing it to him. “Have at it. You can even snoop through my pictures if you want. I’m going to put on the war paint and get dressed.”

  She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and leaned in for a kiss. He set the phone on the table and pulled her onto his lap, his gliding hand going to the part in her robe to caress her breast.

  “Just a quickie?” he asked.

  “If I allot any amount of time to sex then I’ll have that much less time to spend on my makeup.”

  “Sex for freckles?”

  “You don’t really like them, do you?”

  “They are adorable.”

  She wiggled, which teased up his hard-on. “If someone posts about my freckles I’m going to blame you.”

  He kissed the bridge of her nose where the freckles sprinkled. “Deal.”

  Two hours later—and still riding the high from the orgasm Hawk had given her with an ease that should have been criminal—Becca grabbed a plate near the service table just outside the perfume lab. They’d spent an hour discussing the perfume mix, and next up was marketing. But first, lunch.

  She placed three sandwich halves on the plate, and…then two more. They were veggie and some kind of spicy mayo. Hawk would sniff at them, surely. But he wouldn’t argue, either. Placing a few carrot sticks and radish roses beside that, she then slipped down the hallway and found the bodyguard on the phone.

  He signaled to her that he was busy.

  “No problem.” She set the plate on the bench that sat before a long stretch of windows on the eleventh floor. “Food for my man.”

  He nodded and gave her a th
umbs up.

  Becca considered skipping over to give him a kiss, but just then the Italian, Ludovico, swung around the corner with a team of three besuited men.

  “Ah, Bella!”

  He called her Bella because it was an Italian thing. Maybe. He could have her name wrong, also. Becca didn’t mind. It was fun getting her own perfume. And she loved the scent. But more importantly, Hawk liked it. And that mattered to her.

  She cast Hawk a wink as Ludovico hooked an arm in hers and they all made their way back to the lab, leaving the bodyguard to his business on the phone.

  11

  Mink had reported in that he’d do what he could to trace the anonymous texter to Becca’s phone. He’d know in a few hours if the info Hawk had given him would be enough. If not, he may need Becca’s cell phone.

  The empty plate sat on the bench beside Hawk. He’d downed three sandwiches before he’d realized that they didn’t have meat on them. Like some kind of fancy tea party things with cucumbers and some weird mayo flecked with red stuff. They had tasted meh. But he never passed up free food whenever Becca could snag some for him. He could really use some coffee or tea to wash it down, though.

  The lab door opened and Becca’s laughter trilled down the hallway. Hawk stood and checked his gun. A habit. He quickly resumed bodyguard mode with hands before him and chin up as the heiress approached. She waved over her shoulder to the men in the lab, one of whom, who blew her a kiss. The Italian. Gotta keep an eye on those Italians.

  “Limo?” he asked as Becca strode by him and he moved in step just behind her.

  “Please.”

  He dialed for the limo and got an immediate confirmation. He anticipated a crowd of photographers by the outer doors. Someone in the company must have alerted the press. They entered the elevator and just as the doors closed, Becca gripped him by the tie and pulled him down for a kiss. They had but five seconds before the elevator landed on the ground floor.

  And Hawk took advantage of every sweet second. She tongued his upper lip then gave it a little nip.

  “Is that so?” He gave her ass a squeeze and she chirped—but then abruptly turned to face front.