Her Billionaire Bodyguard (Her Billionaire CEO Book 1)

by Jewel Allen

  “I’ve been thinking,” Luke said. “After Nashville, I’m going to assign someone else to you.”

  She let his words sink in. “To be my bodyguard?”

  “Yes.”

  A group of hikers jumped into the water, squealing and horseying around. She was glad for the noise. She didn’t like her thoughts jumbling up in her head. Suddenly, she felt inadequate, like maybe she’d done something, or said something to cause this change.

  “Why?” she asked.

  He gazed at her intently. “You know why.”

  “So you could be free of me?”

  “Yeah,” he said slowly. “That’s it.”

  She turned her face, glad for her wild, long hair she could hide behind. She felt her throat tighten with tears. It felt as though he had just wrenched her heart open, laid it out and stomped on it.

  Yet isn’t this what she wanted—that he no longer would be part of her life? So why did she feel like bawling?

  She stood, turning away from him while putting on her clothes as quickly as she could. She squirted a leave-in conditioner in her hand and massaged it into the strands of her hair. Then she roughly tried to brush through it, but it was too snarled, or maybe her hands were just so uncoordinated, they were trembling so much.

  He just wants to be rid of me.

  “Here, let me do it,” Luke said.

  Her hand stilled.

  Should I let him?

  An unbidden memory returned to her. Luke brushing her hair after her dad died. An act of kindness that melted her heart towards him. She had forgotten about this, but now that image came rushing to her. It was dangerous, she shouldn’t…

  As she stood there in indecision, he plucked the brush from her hand. Her breath stilled. Just like the old days, he insisted and got his way.

  Gently, he brushed, then tugged at the snarls. In long, hypnotic movements, he pulled the bristles through her hair, all the way from her scalp to her hips.

  She closed her eyes at the pleasure of the sensation. And then reason returned. After Nashville, she wasn’t going to see him again.

  Because he wanted to be free of her.

  She wouldn’t let him know how much his rejection hurt her. “Thank you,” she said, holding out her palm for the brush

  “I can finish—”

  “No, thank you.” She snatched her brush from him.

  ***

  Luke wished he could have brushed her hair longer. Bury his face in it. Put his arms around her and pull her against him. Tip her face so he could kiss her. But most of all, hold her in his arms and admit that he’d still cared deeply.

  Instead, he just said, “You’re welcome.”

  He was glad she finally knew what his plan was. After Nashville, when he was no longer her bodyguard, he would be free, for sure. Free to date her again. He just hoped she would take him back.

  Suddenly, he realized that she was already picking her way through the rocks, her canvas bag slung behind her. Rousing himself from his thoughts, he gathered his things and slipped his shirt over his head. “Hey, wait up!”

  She slowed but not by much.

  “Hey,” he said, catching up with her, “what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she said, walking briskly again.

  He gazed, frustrated, at her back. He resigned himself to marching, no, running after her, all the way to the trail-head. By the time they got there, Luke was sweating buckets. He opened his car door by remote and she let herself in.

  His eyes narrowed as he panted.

  What was going on?

  As he got in his side and started to drive, she sat ramrod straight, her face impassive.

  “Was it something I said back there?” he asked.

  “No,” came her curt reply.

  After a few minutes, she said, “Why do you flirt with Thelma?”

  “What?”

  “You know, Thelma, my stylist.”

  “I knew who you meant. What on earth? I haven’t been flirting.”

  “Yes, you have.”

  He focused on the road, wondering what had gotten her snoot out of joint. Surely it couldn’t have been Thelma. They’d not even talked about her all day.

  “I just talk to her, that’s all,” he said.

  “And laugh at her jokes and compliment her on her tamales.”

  “Her tamales are out-of-this-world, surely, you agree.”

  “I know,” she said, sounding miserable. “I can’t cook worth a darn.”

  He glanced at Madison, mystified. “Is this what it’s about, you’re upset over Thelma’s tamales?”

  She looked out the window without answering.

  He sighed. “Madison, I give up.”

  “Yeah, you should. You’re good at that.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?” He let up on the gas a bit, this conversation was getting him so riled he was pushing 90 on the speedometer.

  Madison said, “When the going got rough way back when, you gave up on me.”

  “I beg your pardon.” He gripped the steering wheel. “You’re the one that left me for Nashville.”

  “I didn’t,” she said. “In fact, that day, I almost…oh, never mind.”

  “What were you going to say?”

  “I said never mind.”

  “But it doesn’t matter, does it?” he said. “It’s not like we’re getting back together or anything. You’re a superstar now. You don’t need me. Well, not anything more than a bodyguard.”

  She hugged her bag on her lap and didn’t answer.

  They drove home in icy silence. At the front porch, she didn’t wait for him to open her door, yanking it practically off its hinges. She slammed it shut and stalked off.

  Taking a deep breath that didn’t loosen the anger that had built up within him, Luke parked the car. He didn’t understand what happened back in the car. No, it had been clear back at the falls. Right around when he brushed her hair.

  He groaned silently. He had had high hopes, but it was as though this whole evening, everything unraveled. Maybe he was better off assigning someone else after Nashville. He wouldn’t be able to withstand any more rejection from her.

  In the hallway, upstairs, he paused at his door and looked towards hers. It was shut firmly, just like her heart was to his.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Madison’s head throbbed. Like Luke, she hid behind a pair of shades.

  “Hello, darlings,” Chan greeted the group the next afternoon. “Did you miss me?”

  “Terribly,” Sally answered drolly, then went back to cooling herself with a huge woven fan.

  They were sitting on the back patio, in the shade. Everyone was in a foul mood. Even Sally complained of a headache, from the heat, she said. Well, everyone except for Thelma, who was reading a gossip magazine and making snarky comments about celebrities. Luke sat apart, at a different table, tossing back a root beer and crumpling the can. Chan wandered over to him.

  “Should we take the limo?” Chan asked. “Or do you want to drive?”

  “The limo’s fine,” Luke said.

  Madison felt a pang of disappointment. She’d enjoyed their rides in the Corvette. But of course she knew that those rides didn’t mean anything.

  Luke wants to be free of me.

  “Great,” Chan said. “The limo it is.”

  “Where are we going?” Sally asked.

  “Monell’s, where else?” Chan’s eyes glittered. “The best family-style restaurant in these parts. It used to be a plantation house. The owner had this brilliant idea to change it into a restaurant. They opened on Thanksgiving day and eighty people showed up. Can you imagine? Without advertising.”

  “Ooh, sounds terrific,” Sally said. “I hope they have air-conditioning.”

  “I’m sure they do.” Chan nodded.

  When it was time to go, Luke sat in front of the limo, with the driver, while Chan took his place in the cab. Madison took a deep breath and massaged her temples.

  Thelma
nudged her. “You guys having a lover’s quarrel?” she whispered.

  “What?” Madison said, her eyes searching for Luke to make sure he couldn’t hear. He faced forward, seemingly oblivious.

  “You and Luke. You’re both so crabby today.”

  “It’s just…hot,” Madison finished lamely.

  “Mmm, yeah, I guess. I don’t know. You seemed to be getting on just fine yesterday, before you left for the waterfalls.”

  “Thelma, can you please just stop the third-degree?”

  Thelma raised an eyebrow. “You got it, ma’am.”

  Madison closed her eyes and chastised herself. Did she have to be so snooty with Thelma, too? Having Luke around was just not a good thing. The sooner this Nashville concert was over, the better.

  ***

  At Monell’s, they sat around a huge table that could have seated twenty people. Their group got interspersed with other customers. Anyone could sit wherever they wanted.

  Luke deliberately sat on the opposite side of the table as Madison, so he didn’t have to sit by her. It was getting harder and harder for him to be unaffected by her presence. And if he weren’t careful, he could jeopardize his job…and her safety. Switching bodyguards out at the last minute before her Nashville concert could spell trouble for her.

  Luke helped himself to some good ol’ fried chicken, grits, and cornbread. The meal certainly looked fantastic, and he couldn’t wait to get a bite of it. If only his new female acquaintance to his right would let him eat. She was leaning so close, he could smell her lavender-chamomile-mumbo-jumbo essential oil.

  “You’re a bodyguard?” She said, touching his arm. “How exciting.”

  He nodded. “From Parker Protection Services.”

  She stared at him. “Protection Services. Like Child Protection Services?”

  “I believe it’s Child Protective Services.”

  “Oh.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “For a moment there, I thought you were involved in freeing children from trafficking.”

  “I wish,” he said. “I know guys who do that.”

  Across the table from him, Madison was talking to a nerdy-looking guy and laughing at his jokes. Why, if he wasn’t mistaken, she was flirting with him. He looked like an accountant. Definitely not a body-builder.

  Luke poked around on his plate, tearing a piece of chicken bone viciously.

  The lady beside him started another thread of conversation. Luke turned dutifully to her. After all, according to Madison, flirting was his forte.

  ***

  Madison strained to hear the guy talking to her over the din. But honestly, she sat there distracted, wondering what was so interesting that Luke leaned so close to the woman beside him. She looked to be about fifty, with huge jowls and fat fingers.

  Her mother’s voice came to her, reminding Madison that a lady didn’t think that way about others. But in her dark mood, Madison didn’t particularly care to play nice.

  Her seatmate, whom she nicknamed Mr. Britishman, was saying in his cool British accent, “And I do believe we get far more rain in London than any place in the United States,” he said, in a har-har mode. Which Madison didn’t find the least bit funny, but she smiled along, to be polite.

  “I was in London once,” Madison said. “It rained the whole time.”

  He slapped his knee. “Hi-la-rious!”

  “The rain part?”

  “Why, yes. Did you have a jolly good time nonetheless?”

  She tried to recall that concert in London. Actually, she was pretty miserable. She had a cold and the rain didn’t help. But the fans seemed really eager, and stayed despite the sheets and sheets of water that poured from gray, gray skies.

  “It was very…wet,” she said.

  “Har har,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

  “And the umbrellas didn’t hold up. They kept blowing so then I wondered if I had arrived at a Mary Poppins revival.”

  “Hee hee!” he guffawed, or whatever it was that Brits did in their off-time. “That is quite the vision in my mind. What is it that you do, my dear?”

  “I am a singer.”

  “I was a singer in a cabaret once.” He paused for effect, with the far-away looks that singers give in cabarets, apparently.

  Madison decided to change the subject in case he wanted to belt out a show tune, but she was too slow.

  “Would you like to watch one of my performances?” he asked, shoving back his chair and getting to his feet.

  “Oh dear,” Madison said, looking around and hoping that the karaoke police would show up. She even turned imploringly to Luke. Wasn’t he supposed to protect her from unsavory characters? Well, here was one.

  Get on it!

  But Luke kept flirting with Ursula from Little Mermaid.

  Mr. Britishman went into a super-cool, out-of-body experience type of rendition of New York, New York. At the end of it, Madison got to her feet and applauded. Even Ms. Octopus was visibly moved. Or maybe she was just wiping her full mouth with a napkin.

  Michael, the restaurant owner, clapped Mr. Britishman on the back.

  “Say, ol’ chap,” Mr. Britishman said, “by chance you want to hire a singer?”

  ***

  Luke could have rolled out of Monell’s. He was so stuffed. He should have stopped at the third serving, but it was so good, he couldn’t. Besides, his new lady-friend kept urging him to eat sweet potato pie.

  Madison walked ahead of him. The guy she had been talking to stayed behind to entertain everyone with more of his cabaret schtick. It was kind of fascinatingly bad it was good. Sally found it amusing, too, so she stayed around after asking Luke for dollar bills to tuck in the man’s cravat, or that tie-magajig that he had around his collar.

  “I don’t want to see Sally tucking the money,” Madison said with a shudder. “That is so beneath her.”

  “Agreed,” Luke said.

  Once outside, Madison paused at the front porch, squinting. “Hey,” she said, softly, “are those what I think they are?”

  Luke followed her gaze. She was staring at the lawn.

  “Luke!” she said breathlessly. “There are fireflies!”

  She was right. They were twinkling all over like some magic pixie dust—by a little waterfall by the porch, on the grass, in the trees.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  Madison walked out to the lawn. Luke decided to hang back and just watch. He would uphold being an “uninterested bodyguard” as best as he could. She touched the grass, which seemed to move with little pinpricks of lights.

  She looked like a beautiful nymph, touching everything with her magic. He was falling under her spell.

  So much for being an uninterested bodyguard

  Sally came out with the cabaret singer, linking arms with him. Amazingly, in just a short time, she seemed to acquire a British accent, too.

  “That is jolly funny!” she was saying.

  They parted ways, but not before they traded business cards. Sally promised that she would be on the lookout for cabaret gigs.

  “He’s in the wrong part of the country,” Luke said. “He should go to New York.”

  “That’s where everyone goes,” Sally said.

  “I’m from New York!” Thelma chimed in.

  Sally sighed. “I’ve decided I love me a British gent.”

  “Too bad the last eligible prince of Britain was snatched up,” Thelma said. “I read it in People.”

  Sally made a face. “He’s a little too young for me.” She squinted into the darkness. “Is that Madison?”

  “Yes,” Luke said.

  “What is she doing on the grass?”

  “Practicing for her dance performance at Riverside?” he suggested.

  “No, really. Why is she rolling around on her stomach? Is she colicking?”

  “To get close to the fireflies.”

  “Oh. So that’s what those twinkling things were. I thought maybe my contacts were going bad.” She yawned. “I�
�m pooped. Madison, darling!” She called out and joined her.

  Luke sat on the bench of the porch. He wished he could have joined Madison on the grass. But that was dangerous territory. When he thought of Madison, grass, and twilight, he thought back to an evening so many years before, when they lay side by side on her parents’ lawn.

  “Look at the stars,” she’d said. “They’re like fireflies.”

  He had raised his head and rested his jaw on his fist, looking down at her.

  “Have you ever seen fireflies before?” he asked.

  “No. Have you?” Her voice was full of wonder.

  “They had them back south when I lived there. They’re pretty cool.”

  “Take me there someday?”

  “Yes’m.” And they’d kissed to seal his promise.

  Luke blinked. The visceral desire that hit his gut, wanting this beautiful woman, made him catch his breath. Those were some good times. He had never had as good or as long of a relationship with anyone. No one could ever supplant Madison in his memory.

  She would never know now.

  Sally was ushering Madison back, who had cupped her hands to catch fireflies. She was giggling, happy as can be. It was a far cry from how she had been at the start of the evening. Almost as though she was friends with everyone—even Luke—and the world was all right as they knew it.

  He wished that were the case.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  A little before dawn the next day, Luke knocked on Madison’s door.

  She opened it a crack. She was still in her shorts and t-shirt, her long hair hanging over one shoulder, like a drowsy mermaid. Her flawless skin and bare lips looked dewy. Man, it was all he could do to not push his way past the door and take her into his arms.

  “Ready?” he asked. To his embarrassment, his voice cracked.

  “I snoozed my alarm and overslept,” she said, flustered. “Can you give me five?”

  “Take your time.”

  As he waited in the hall, Luke felt proud of himself. Despite the cutting words they had exchanged, despite the chill all day yesterday, they were actually talking like civilized people. He no longer felt angry, just a little sad. He had gotten over her once, he could get over her again.