'Tis the Season for Romance

by Kristen Proby

  “Oh, uh . . . sorry.” His eyes darted to a slip of paper on the tray he was carrying. “I’m looking for a Ms. Hillcrest. This says room four-ten.”

  “I’m here.” Cleo appeared at my side, jabbing me in the ribs with her elbow, muttering, “Move.”

  I swallowed a grunt. Damn, she had sharp elbows.

  “Can you send up another bottle?” Cleo asked the kid, taking the ice bucket and champagne off the tray. “I’m going to need two.”

  “And another glass, ma’am?”

  “No.” She snatched the single flute he’d brought and shot me a glare. “He’s leaving.”

  The kid’s gaze lifted to my face and I nodded at the hallway for him to get lost.

  He followed orders, even the nonverbal kind, much better than the stubborn woman who marched back inside the room.

  “I’m not leaving,” she declared, setting the champagne on the closest nightstand. “I came here for a vacation and to celebrate Christmas on my own terms. I’m not spending another inane, material, superficial holiday with my family.”

  Cleo hauled the green bottle from the bucket, peeling off the foil and yanking away the muselet. Then she pressed her thumbs against the cork, bracing for the pop. Except the cork didn’t budge. Her cheeks reddened and her lips pursed as she gripped the bottle in one hand and attempted to shimmy and wiggle out the cork with the other. Still, it didn’t budge.

  I growled and stepped close, ripping the bottle from her hands.

  “Hey. Give that back.” She swiped for it, but I spun and blocked her with my shoulder.

  With a twist and a tug, the cork popped free. “Here.”

  She took the bottle back and stomped—as well as a person could stomp in a pair of fluffy white slippers—to the flute, pouring it until the fizz reached the brim. “My father promised me there’d be no more security. He promised.”

  “That’s between the two of you.”

  She gulped the entire glass of champagne and immediately refilled it. “How long? Tell me the truth. How long have you been following me?”

  Ray had asked me not to tell Cleo about our agreement. But the look in her eyes, the desperation for someone to be honest with her, broke my resolve. “We never stopped.”

  Her shoulders fell.

  I hated being the one to put the sad look on her face. Just like I hated being the one to erase her smiles. But I was on the clock here and things would be easier once she was home and far, far away from me.

  This entire trip was so out of character for her. Cleo loved routine more than any person I knew. It made it ridiculously easy to protect her. Up at four. To the bakery by five. Work until close, then she drove home, lights out by eight.

  Ray hadn’t believed me when I’d called him this morning and told him that his daughter had just boarded a plane, final destination Montana.

  He’d cussed me up one side and down the other, but we hadn’t been monitoring her credit cards. He’d told us to stop three months ago, wanting to give her at least that much autonomy. So much for her independence. As of today, every movement Cleo made, every purchase, was to be tracked by my team. Anything suspicious was to be reported to him immediately.

  Like a trip to Montana for Christmas.

  Three hours after he’d hung up on me, I’d been sent instructions to get my ass to the airport, board his private plane and retrieve his daughter.

  The jet was parked and waiting at the Quincy airport to take us home.

  “Drink your champagne. Then we’ll go.”

  “No.” Her voice was calm and flat. Resolute, but polite. “I’m sorry you came all this way for no reason, Austin, but I’m not leaving.”

  Shit. Cleo rarely dug her heels in, but when she did, she planted them hard and deep.

  If she didn’t leave, there was a good chance I’d get fired. Ray was normally a fair man to work for, but where his daughter was concerned, the man wouldn’t see reason.

  Which was probably why Cleo hadn’t told him about this vacation in the first place.

  Ray owned a cybersecurity company that had boomed over the past thirty years. Mirror Networks was valued at over fifteen billion dollars, and as the founder and CEO, Ray had a level of wealth that was impossible for me to comprehend.

  He’d had a physical security company on his payroll for over twenty years. The company before mine had been his long-time provider, but when one of the bodyguards had hit on Cleo and made her uncomfortable, he’d terminated the contract immediately, as any father should.

  I would have done the same.

  That was four years ago and since, he’d been with my company, Garrison. I’d been a startup at the time and busted my ass to prove myself to the man. It had been the hardest four years of my damn life—and not because of Ray.

  Because of Cleo.

  The good thing was, Ray didn’t seem to care that Cleo hated me. As long as I kept her safe, I stayed in his good graces and his monthly payment hit my bank account on the first.

  But if I went home alone, he’d terminate our contract.

  The guys who worked for me had families. They needed a steady paycheck and if I lost Ray, it would take me years to replace that income, especially if he spread word around LA that I’d left his daughter in an unsafe situation.

  So Cleo had to come home, whether she wanted to or not.

  “The jet is waiting at the airport,” I told her.

  “Great.” She threw out a hand toward the door. “Don’t miss your ride. I’ll be back after Christmas.”

  “Cleo—”

  “And think, you won’t have to hide out anymore. The jig is up. When I get home, you can come into the bakery and tell me all about how much you hate my food.”

  Son of a bitch. There was hurt in her voice, and it was like a knife to the heart. I’d done that. I’d wounded her with my muttered critiques and blatant dismissal of anything she created.

  But it was for the best. We came from different worlds.

  Eventually, this feeling would go away and she’d be just another client.

  “Why are you so stuck on staying?” I asked. “Is this really what you want? Christmas alone in a hotel room?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Why?” Christmas was one of my favorite holidays. Spending a day with my family was something I looked forward to all year long, and it was the one day of the year that I made sure I had off.

  “The entire day is just one big show.”

  “And you’re too spoiled and selfish to put up with it for a day.” It was overly harsh, but maybe if I pissed her off, she’d be less likely to stay.

  “Get out.” The snarl returned. “Get. Out. Now.”

  “Pack your things. We’re going home.”

  “No! I’m not leaving!” Her voice shook. “I’m an adult. I’m a grown woman. If I want to take a vacation for Christmas, I have every right. I don’t have to explain myself to my father. Or to you.”

  “You’re right.” I nodded. “But I’m still taking you home.”

  “How much is my father paying you to babysit me?”

  “We’re not babysitting you.” I scowled. “We’re doing our best to keep you safe.”

  She knew just how much I hated the word babysitter. She threw it in my face when she was particularly angry. I was here to protect her. I’d put my life on the line to keep hers safe. To compare me to a teenage babysitter was the ultimate insult.

  “Pack.” I pointed to the suitcase.

  Cleo rolled her eyes and drained the champagne flute dry. Then she turned, filling it once more. At this rate, the bottle would be empty within ten minutes. Maybe if she was drunk, she’d be easier to convince.

  “Protecting me from what?” she asked. “I’m not in danger. Especially here. Unless you think the bellboy might try and smile me to death.”

  “There are evil people in this world, Cleo. Your father is doing what he thinks is best.”

  “He’s unilaterally making decisions for my life. And I’m
well aware there are evil people in this world, so please save me the lecture.”

  Christ. Why had I thought this would be an easy day? The minute I’d been told Cleo was en route to the airport, I should have expected this showdown.

  I rubbed the back of my neck as she gulped more champagne. Just as her glass emptied, a knock sounded at the door. I took a step to answer it, but she shot me a glare and tried to beat me to the knob. She wasn’t fast enough. I checked the peephole, seeing the kid from earlier, and opened the door.

  “Hi.” She sidestepped me, smiling at the kid. Then she slipped a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket, trading him the cash for the fresh bottle. “Thank you.”

  “Have a good night, Ms. Hillcrest.” He bowed, refusing to look my way, then closed the door.

  Cleo turned and shoved the champagne into my gut. “Make yourself useful.”

  Fuck, this woman made me crazy.

  I opened her bottle as she marched to the chest of drawers and flung one open.

  Finally. She was packing.

  A pair of crimson silk pajama shorts and a matching top floated through the air as she tossed them over her shoulder and onto the bed. I expected more to follow, but she stood, snatched them up, cast a sneer at the suitcase and yanked the fresh bottle of champagne from my grip. Then she marched to the bathroom, kicking the door closed and flipping the lock.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered. “Seriously?”

  The only response was a string of muffled noises from the other side of the door.

  I dug the phone from my pocket and pulled up Ray’s name, ready to dial. But before I could bring myself to call and give him an update, I shut the screen off and tucked the phone away.

  Ray’s primary concern was his family’s safety. I didn’t fault the guy for it. After what had happened to his wife, I understood why he went overboard.

  His first wife and Cleo’s mother, Janet, had been murdered.

  Ray had amassed a fortune while Cleo had been a baby. Though according to his long-time assistant, Ray and Janet had lived humbly. Apparently, it was night and day compared to the lavish lifestyle Ray had bestowed upon his second wife, Selene.

  Years ago, when Cleo had just been a little girl, Ray had fired a guy for misconduct. That employee had then made threats not only against Ray, but also against Janet and Cleo as well. Ray hadn’t thought much of it, chalking it up to a disgruntled former employee who was mouthing off and would eventually disappear.

  He’d been wrong. Terribly wrong. And his wife had paid for it with her life.

  Janet had left home to run an errand one day. Ray had been at work. Cleo had been in preschool. The guy had stopped Janet six blocks from home and shot her twice in the heart.

  Since, Ray had taken security to the extreme.

  What man in his shoes wouldn’t? I understood the motives for his over-the-top measures. Hell, many famous singers and actors and sports stars didn’t have the level of security Ray required for Cleo. But at the same time, I understood Cleo’s need for freedom. There had to be a balance. A compromise. Only it wasn’t my job to broker the arrangement.

  My job was simply to get Cleo home.

  The door to the bathroom opened and she walked out, her chin held high. She carried her champagne to the nightstand and set it down beside the empty bottle, then swiped up a binder near the lamp, flipping it open as she plopped onto the edge of the bed.

  I blinked. Twice. Not because she was ignoring me. But because my mind was blank. My tongue was three sizes too big and my eyes didn’t know where to look first.

  Her legs? No, her arms. Her chest. No, definitely her legs.

  There was a lot of skin on display, from the scalloped hem of her sleep shorts all the way down toned thighs and trim calves to her dainty ankles. Her delectable feet were hidden by those slippers.

  I forced my eyes up and they landed on the smooth line of her neck. She’d twisted her hair up and a dark tendril curled behind the shell of her ear. She wore no jewelry, not even the diamond studs that were her favorite because they’d been Janet’s. I’d overheard her tell that to Brynne at the bakery one day, two years ago.

  I stared at the lobes of her naked ears, refusing to let my gaze drop beyond her neck. Because below her collarbones, her top was nothing more than a scrap of silk. A cropped top that showed a hint of midriff. The spaghetti straps left her arms and shoulders bare. And the wide V-neck plunged much, much too low.

  Leave. Get out. My mind screamed for me to walk out the door because this was my client’s daughter, but my body was fighting for the other team. The team that wanted me to cross the room, pull Cleo into my arms and find out if she tasted as sweet as her confections.

  I had to get the fuck out of this room.

  Cleo had twenty-four-seven security, but there was a reason why I always assigned her to a member of my team, why I didn’t monitor her personally. I didn’t trust myself. When she was in the room, I wasn’t aware of my surroundings. I was aware of her. Only her.

  At thirty-three years old, I’d never met a person who could block out the world.

  Until Cleo.

  And damn it, I couldn’t exactly haul her out of here wearing those skimpy pajamas. “I’ll give you one night. One. Then we’re leaving in the morning.”

  “Whatever.” She sipped her champagne and studied the room service menu. She flipped the page and leaned forward to study the text. The gap at the front of her top loosened, barely covering those gorgeous breasts. Her nipples peaked through the thin fabric.

  Fuck me.

  Without another word, I strode to the door, flinging it open at the same time I swiped my backpack from the floor. The echo of the door’s slam followed me as I marched down the hallway to the elevator. I punched the down arrow three times, practically jumping in once it arrived.

  When I reached the lobby, I found a quiet corner beside the Christmas tree and called the pilot, giving him the go-ahead to return to California alone. He offered to spend the night, but there was no reason for us all to be stuck in Montana before Christmas. I’d get a ticket with Cleo and we’d fly back commercial in the morning.

  I slumped forward in the chair, my backpack resting at my feet, and closed my eyes before pinching the bridge of my nose. Goddamn it. Goddamn this trip. Goddamn Ray. Avoiding him was futile so I dialed his number.

  He didn’t answer.

  Why would he? He and Selene were hosting one of their annual Christmas-week soirees and had a house full of rich people. All he cared about was that Cleo was safe and would be home promptly. What he didn’t know tonight wouldn’t kill him.

  I stood and took in the lobby, assessing exits and entrances. Casing a place had become habit over my career. The inn was cozy and classy without being stuffy. If not for the snow, it would be the perfect holiday getaway. A big improvement over the party Cleo was avoiding at her father’s house.

  If I were wearing her slippers, I would have skipped town too. Not that I’d admit that to her.

  I was the hired help and no one, especially Ray, gave a shit about my opinion.

  Tomorrow, I’d get Cleo to California. She’d be fully clothed and those pajamas a distant memory. Then I’d go back to my life and she’d go back to hers. The only contact I’d have with Cleo would be the weekly report that crossed my desk from the team assigned to her detail.

  Maybe one of these days she’d get a serious boyfriend who lasted longer than a month and this attraction I had for her would fizzle out. I mean, it hadn’t in four years, but eventually it had to fade, right?

  I raked a hand through my hair and crossed the lobby for the front desk. At least I’d thought to bring a bag, not that it had much other than my laptop, charging cords and a bottle of aspirin.

  The young woman standing behind the counter smiled as I approached. She hadn’t been at the desk earlier when I’d entered the lobby. I’d been prepared to deliver some bullshit line about being Cleo’s boyfriend here to surprise her for Christmas,
but then I’d seen the bellboy set down a tray with one glass and a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice.

  Cleo loved champagne so on a hunch, I’d stolen a glance at the room receipt. Sure enough, her name had been on the ticket beside the room number 410.

  “Good evening, sir,” Eloise, her name tag read, greeted. “How can I help you?”

  I dug my wallet from my jeans pocket. “I’d like a room, please.”

  Her smile fell.

  My stomach plummeted. Oh hell.

  “I’m so sorry, sir, but we’re sold out for the week. Christmas and all.”

  “Of course,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

  Fucking Montana.

  Chapter 3

  Cleo

  “He can go to hell,” I muttered to the empty room.

  Who the hell did he think he was, following me here and ordering me around like I was a child? I was an adult and didn’t need a babysitter.

  “One night?” I scoffed. “I’m not leaving. This is my vacation. Mine. This is my Christmas.”

  I flew off the bed, too antsy to sit still, and paced the room.

  After Austin had left, I’d made considerable progress drinking the second bottle of champagne. Half a flute and it would be gone. My head was fuzzy. My limbs were loose and warm. My stomach growled and I hiccupped, staring at the door, willing my room service to appear. I was starving, having only eaten airplane pretzels for lunch, and food would help soak up some of the alcohol.

  I didn’t need a raging hangover if I had to travel home tomorrow, and it was very likely I would be traveling.

  Austin Myles usually got his way.

  I wouldn’t put it past him to toss me over his shoulder and cart me out of here if he so desired.

  Once upon a time, I’d dreamed of being carried off by Austin, willingly, without a kick or a scream. When my father had hired his company to provide physical security for the family, I’d taken one look at Austin—at his midnight hair and hypnotic eyes—and boom. Hello, crush. That’s all it was. A teensy, tiny, enormous crush.

  But I’d hid it well. Not a soul on earth knew how I felt about Austin and I’d take my itty-bitty crush to the grave.