by Michele Hauf
Because what Hawk thought about her mattered. A lot. And she was only now realizing that.
She studied the side of his face from her position behind the driver’s seat. Sunglasses on, his eyes were closed. Long day following her around while she and Jess hit the department stores and Swarovski. She collected the Erika figurines and necklaces. Her favorite was the one with Erika dressed as the Statue of Liberty.
She bet Hawk’s favorite would be a nice cool beer in a bar without having to watch over her. Really, the man had Sundays off, but what fun was a Sunday without going out with the guys and letting off some steam over a barbeque or something? Did he even like to let loose and get his groove on? She realized that she had no idea what Hawk liked to do for fun or even to relax.
Whatever it was, telling him about her night with Jackson was going to make him—well, she wasn’t sure how he would react. He wasn’t her boyfriend. He shouldn’t care about her previous liaisons. But as someone hired to protect her, he’d want and need to know. Everything.
She couldn't keep this to herself. Hawk could help her.
Chewing on the corner of her lip, Becca weighed the idea of blurting it out to him now. No, she couldn’t do it in the car. The driver had heard plenty of their conversations, most of them arguments, but he didn’t need to hear this. She’d save it for the penthouse.
15
Hawk mixed the perfect vodka 7. Or at least in his mind, it was perfect. The trick was the squirt of lime. He made two instead of one. Using Becca’s stock of alcohol and her glasses and soda.
When they’d gotten back to the penthouse, and he’d unloaded all her shopping bags onto the bench at the end of her bed, he’d expected her to kiss him and then maybe take a tumble on the bed. But instead, she’d suggested that they have a date night. She’d wanted to know what he liked to do for fun. Where did he want to go?
He hadn’t the heart to tell her he didn’t have a favorite bar or nightclub in New York. Or that he didn’t think it wise for them to go out together and risk being photographed. Instead he’d suggested the one thing that would really make him happy: a night alone with her, talking, kissing, just being together.
She’d taken that with a surprised tilt of the head, but had nodded and told him to return in an hour. Pad thai from the restaurant down the street had waited, and they’d both eaten more than enough for four people. Now, she waited out in the living room on the sofa, knees pulled up, and a pretty red dress hugging her body. A simple frock that tied on one side at the waist. Hawk had wanted to tug on that bow and see what was revealed.
But he’d wait. He liked putting off good things. The wait was always worth it.
He carried the drinks out and handed one to Becca. He’d not told her what he was making for her, so she sipped tentatively.
“Nice,” she offered. “I haven’t had vodka in ages. Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“No. I know you have a one-drink limit, and I mixed yours weak.”
“Really? Don’t you think I can handle my liquor?”
He sat on the sofa next to her and tickled a finger along her leg which was exposed to above the knee. “I like my women in full control of all faculties when on a date. And I do know you probably had champagne at Macy’s.”
“And macarons.”
“Did Jess get the Louboutins she’s been gabbing about for weeks?”
“She did.” She tilted her head onto his shoulder. “You’re such an awesome guy, Hawk. How did you get this way?”
He shrugged. “Isn’t it the norm to want to treat a woman right and not try to get her drunk and take advantage of her?” He knew it was not, which was a sad reflection on society and how young men were raised.
“I try to avoid those types.”
“Unless they’re riding motorcycles,” he said slyly, then regretted the dig immediately. “Sorry.”
“We’ve discussed that. I apologized.”
“And I was jealous.”
“I won’t purposely try to make you jealous again. Promise.” She set the glass on the coffee table and returned to snuggle against him as she toyed with the button on his shirt. “Can I undo a few?” She didn’t wait for his permission, simply unbuttoned two, then slid her palm over his chest. “You’re always so warm. You’re going to come in handy this winter.”
“I understand now. The real reason you’ve suddenly become so interested in me is revealed. I’m nothing more than a hand warmer to you.”
“You found me out. I can’t wait to put my icy hands all over you this December.”
He mocked a shiver then kissed the crown of her head. A few sips of vodka had relaxed him, and he hugged her close. It was nice sitting together and not jumping into the frenzied love making that usually saw them stripped and panting for more, more, and more.
It was all about delaying the reward. At least, that’s what he told himself as he sensed his erection growing harder with every touch of her hand. And when she leaned in to kiss his chest? Rock solid.
“So an evening in is really your idea of a fun date?" she asked. “If you were out with someone who was not a celebrity and didn’t have to worry about paparazzi, where would you take her?”
“Hmm, well, is this a first date, or have we gone out a few times?”
“You’re comfortable with her and have probably been lovers for a few weeks.”
Her blue eyes beamed up at him. Princess eyes. And they were focused only on him. But what had she asked? Right. About a normal date. Which might never happen with Becca. “I’d take her to dinner.”
“Where?”
“No place trendy. I like this nice little Italian joint just off Broadway. It’s a ten-minute walk from Times Square. It’s kitschy but far enough from the crowd to warrant some privacy. I had watermelon soup there one Sunday afternoon a few months ago.”
“That sounds delicious. So, a cozy little restaurant not too far off the grid. Where next after that?”
“Maybe a Broadway show or a movie. After that, we’d go to Times Square and do some people watching. I’m good at that.”
“I know. But it surprises me that you’d like to spend time in that crazy bustle of madness.”
“I find it interesting. People, Becca. So many of them to look at.”
“Fair enough. Then where? Home to have sex?”
“No, it would be after midnight by then. I wouldn’t take her to a nightclub. Too noisy. You can’t talk about the things that matter to you there. I’d probably take her to Junior’s off Times Square, and we’d have an early breakfast or some toast and peanut butter.”
“Wow. Toast and peanut butter? Is that what makes Clinton Hawk happy?”
“Immensely. I like the bread toasted just so. And you have to spread the perfect amount of peanut butter on it. Crunchy. And no jelly. Ugh.”
“I think I’d like to take that as a challenge. I know how to make toast.”
“Don’t get cocky, princess,” he teased. “I’ve tasted your attempt at breakfast.”
“Forgot about that. But toast. How can a person screw that up?”
“The bread is the most important. It’s gotta be the plain white stuff that’s bad for you. Just like mom used to make. I’m pretty sure you only stock the brown stuff that is still sprouting.”
He tilted back another swallow and looked aside out the window. Mentioning his mother struck him like a thump on the chest. Weird.
“So a person could exfoliate with my bread,” she said. “I happen to like it. I’m still taking on your peanut butter toast as a challenge. Someday, I will surprise you. Promise. So, after toast, then it’s home to have sex?”
“Probably. Maybe. Sometimes, just chilling out on the couch with your favorite girl snuggled up beside you is better than any sex a man can have.”
“Tell that to your hard-on, big boy.”
“You noticed that?”
“Difficult not to.” She gave his erection a squeeze through his jeans.
Hawk moaned at
the firm clutch, but was still determined not to throw her down and tear off her clothes. Because he’d meant what he’d said about snuggling. And talking was good. He might think he knew the princess of sweet and sour, but he wasn’t stupid. There were sides to her, many, he felt sure, he’d never uncover. But he’d like to try.
“What about you?” he asked. “I know you’re not the traditional dating sort of woman. You see a man you want, you have him.”
“I don't care for entanglements.”
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“Do you really believe that?”
“I do. You don’t do it a lot. And why shouldn’t you have the right to sleep with whomever you want when you want?”
“I had no idea my bodyguard was a feminist.”
“Only, when you’re secretly seeing your bodyguard, I’d suggest you not go home with any other men. It might make him jealous.”
“Suggestion noted.” She hugged him, and he slipped his hand over her hair. Soft and smelling like lemons. He could eat her up. “I know one thing I wouldn’t mind doing on a date with someone I really cared about.”
“What’s that?” he asked.
“Going sailing on his boat.”
He smiled at that one and closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the sofa. He would make that dream come true. For both of them.
“Hawk, I have something to tell you, and I’m hoping you won’t think badly of me. After what you just said about my indiscriminate dating… But it might be important to this stupid nude selfie text mess.”
Becca’s body had tensed and he could feel her anxiety in the pulse of her thigh muscle against his. He sat up and set his glass on the table. “What is it?”
She turned to curl up her legs and face him. Those freckles were like splashes of innocence on a wildcat’s fur. But combined with her big, blue stare? He took her hands because he sensed her nervousness. “Did you get another text?”
She shook her head. “No, but the Jesster and I were talking while trying on shoes today.”
“And sipping champagne.” He stroked a strand of hair over her ear. “You’re trembling.”
“Because I remembered something when we were chatting. Oh, Hawk, I slept with one of the paparazzi. It was a little over a year ago. Right before I hired you. It had been a couple of weeks since the attempted kidnapping, and I was feeling out of sorts, and Jackson sort of crept under my anxiety and wrapped his arms around me at the right time.”
“Jackson?” He knew most of the paparazzi. Jackson sounded familiar, but at the moment, he couldn’t put a face to the name. “Which one is he?”
“Tall, skinny, dark hair to his shoulders that he usually wears in a ponytail. He’s handsome when he’s not wearing that beard that he has now.”
“That one.” Wow. He was wfaray out of Becca’s range. And social status. But if she had been feeling down at the time. And the bastard had seduced her? “Why were you so worried about telling me this?”
“Because I don’t want you to think I’m a slut.”
“Becca.” He pulled her in gently and kissed her, long. Lingering. He wanted to mark her and make her understand she meant something to him. That she was precious to him. He knew that every move she made, every man she sought for comfort or sex, was for a reason that perhaps she wasn’t even consciously aware of. “I would never think that of you.”
“Even when I hook up and do the walk of shame at two in the morning?”
“Even so. I’ve become a fan of the area diners.”
“That must be the worst part of your job. Waiting for me when you know what I’m doing. Oh, Hawk, I’m so terrible.” She tucked her head against his shoulder.
“You’re having fun, Becca. You're young, single, and a strong woman. It's called living life, and that’s what you're supposed to do. And I am doing my job.”
“I don’t recall waiting for some spoiled heiress’s booty calls to be finished a part of the job description.”
“Neither do I, but it’s a part of the job all the same. Keeping you safe. I don’t ever want you to feel threatened as you did when they tried to kidnap you. Or even when you’re walking down the street and the paparazzi are crushing up around you. Or when you sneak down the stairs of a lover’s brownstone in the middle of the night. I’ll always be there for you.”
She started to sniff, and he realized she was crying. “Becca? No, it’s okay. I adore you, sweetie. It’s all good.”
“Oh, Hawk, I think Jackson might have taken pictures of me while I was sleeping in his bed.”
She looked up at him, tears staining her pale cheeks. Utter fear glossed her eyes. He hated that look. It shouldn’t be there. Not ever.
He kissed one cheek and nudged his nose against hers. “I’ll take care of it. Do you know for sure?”
“No, but it’s the only instance I can imagine where someone would have had the opportunity to take pictures of me. I fell asleep in his bed. I stayed the whole night.”
“Oh.”
She never did that. She didn’t like the risk of being caught by the paparazzi, but mostly, Hawk decided she couldn’t handle the commitment of waking in the morning next to a one-night stand.
“I don’t know if he drugged me, but I was so tired that night. It was totally out of character for me. I fell asleep and slept like a zombie until the morning. He didn’t take any pictures of me while we were awake, but he did have a couple of cameras in the bedroom. It creeps me out to think he might have stood over me while I lay there naked, and snapped shots of me. Hawk?”
He pulled her to him and she sank into his hug. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll need proof to have him arrested. And I’ll get that. Leave everything to me.”
“You’re so good to me. I wish this—we—could last forever.”
Did she? How remarkably unlike Rebecca Wylde. The wild child would never settle down with a man. It was unthinkable. And he knew that. So, Hawk let that comment fade and promised himself he would not remember it.
“I should give Mink a call and tell him we may have a suspect.”
“What can he do? Can he tap into Jackson’s cell phone? See if he’s texted me?”
“I’m not sure, but it’s worth a shot. But I’m going to call a friend at the NYPD, too. It’s time we brought them in on this. At the very least, alert them to the trouble you’ve been having.”
She nodded. “Yes, do that. I think I’ve spoiled the date, such as it is.”
“Nonsense.” He kissed the crown of her head, then stood and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m going to run down to my place because that's where I’ve got the codes Mink asked for from your phone. Give me fifteen minutes, and I’ll be back to tuck you in.”
“How about if I warm up the shower?”
“I’ll make it five minutes.”
16
All the times Becca had wondered if she could ever find love, all the dates, the hook ups, the one-night stands… Why had she never glanced over her shoulder for the answer? Hawk had been standing there the entire time. Protecting. Watching. Caring.
The shower streamed over her head and washed the tears from her cheeks and lifted her spirits a bit. Because to think about him always waiting for her to come tripping out of some strange man’s brownstone, not just because it was his job, but because he cared, was some kind of remarkable.
She’d never given Hawk the consideration he deserved. Her fantasy about having sex with him had come true. And she hoped to feed that fantasy for a long time. But more so, she wanted to know him, as a friend, as a lover, as a companion.
And the fact that she was thinking long-term about Hawk knocked her for a loop. What was that about? As he’d said, she was young and single. The idea of devoting all her intimate attention to one man didn’t seem right, let alone make sense. Because couples always grew tired of one another, and then they fought and despised and, eventually they broke up. Or one of them had an affair.
Her father’s love life had taugh
t her more than enough about the dangers of settling down.
How to keep Hawk's and her relationship fresh and always new without that awful word commitment messing everything up?
Probably wasn’t possible.
Becca slicked the soap over her body and realized that she’d been in the shower for a long time. Longer than twenty minutes, surely. Where was Hawk? Maybe his hacker friend had some news for him. She hoped so. If they could handle this situation without going to the police, that would be optimal. Because if they did go to the NYPD, it would make the news. And whether or not the alleged nude pictures were published, the fact that they existed would create a scandal she wasn’t willing to weather.
The wild child partied and stayed out late and occasionally had a public fight with her devoted bodyguard. She liked to spend money like it was going out of style, and she befriended all the rich and famous. She loved to have a good time. And she enjoyed keeping her reputation at that level. No drugs or overindulgence in alcohol—though the press assumed her wild antics were alcohol-related. She could handle that. And definitely no nudies.
The water started to cool, and Becca shivered. She reached for a towel and decided Hawk would come up when he was free. Duty called.
And bless him for being such a devoted employee.
And lover.
Mink said he could mirror Becca’s texts on his end and would do that with her permission. He figured he should be able to nab the location next time she received a message.
Hawk thanked him, and just when he slid a hand over his holster, thinking Becca would prefer he return to her place not wearing it, his phone vibrated, signaling a text. It was from the doorman. Paparazzi madness. Please come down.
Hawk shoved the phone into a front pocket, kept the holster on, and headed toward the elevator. He was already beyond his promised five minutes, but Becca would keep. Whatever was going on downstairs he did not look forward to it. There were always paparazzi outside the front doors. The doormen were familiar with it. For one of them to send a request like that meant something was up.
