by Elle James
Her father’s eyes narrowed. “You know the situation here. The government is run by a president who would make himself dictator. The people aren’t happy. The military is keeping them from staging an uprising. I think it’s only a matter of time before there’s rioting in the streets. And as you well know, not everybody is pro-American. So, humor me,” her father said. “Play along with this charade, at least until the political environment calms down a bit.” He nodded toward Bull. “I’m counting on you to keep my daughter safe.”
Bull nodded, his chest and gut tight. “Yes, sir.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to attend.” The ambassador spun on his heel and walked out of the room.
Layla stared across the table at Bull. “I don’t plan on slowing down so that you can keep up with me.”
Bull nodded. “Understood.” He opened the ring box and stared down at a beautiful black sapphire and diamond ring. “Keep in mind that it might be strange if people see you dodging your fiancé.”
She snorted. “You’re not my fiancé. We’re not engaged.”
“According to your father’s script, we are.” He shoved the ring box toward her. “Do you need a formal declaration of my commitment to protect you?”
“No,” Layla said. “I most certainly do not.”
“Look, it’s not like I want to be engaged to you. You’re not even my type.”
She frowned. “And what’s wrong with my type?”
“Nothing if a guy likes a spoiled little rich girl.”
“Spoiled little…” She clamped her lips shut and glared at him. “Look, I’m not spoiled. I work hard for my father, and I’m not even paid for it. I do it because I love him, and he needs the support of somebody to perform the functions that a wife normally would.”
“And what about your mother?” he asked.
Layla’s gazed dropped to the ring box. “My mother died of cancer the year my father was assigned as ambassador to Turkey.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Bull said. He understood how cancer could ravage a person and the family. “What kind of cancer?”
“Pancreatic cancer,” she said. “From diagnosis to death was only six weeks.” She glanced up, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. “My dad went from her funeral to an airplane to fly to Turkey. I couldn’t let him do it alone.”
His chest tightened. He wasn’t good with female tears. “What about your job?”
“My father’s work became my job.” She lifted the ring in the box. “She was a really good woman. She made my father very happy. Her family could never understand why she married him, and pretty much cut her off.”
“Then why did your father accept a position of ambassador to the country she was raised in?”
“They both hoped that they could work things out with her family. But after my mother’s death, my father wasn’t as willing to work with her family. He knew how much it broke her heart that they’d cut her off.”
“I’m sorry about your mother. I lost my mother to cancer as well. She was far too young to leave this world.”
Layla nodded. “Mine, too. She had a lot left to accomplish and never got around to it. She loved her husband, she loved her new country, but she loved her home as well.”
Bull couldn’t say that he was happy about his assignment, but it was his assignment and he needed to execute it. “Look,” he said, “like it or not, we’re stuck with each other. We need a cover story, and you need to put this ring on your finger. Where would you like to say we met?”
“I don’t care. Pick a spot.”
“It has to be some place that you’ve actually been.”
“And you,” she said. “Have you ever been to New York City?”
He shook his head.
“How about Miami, Florida?”
Again, he shook his head.
She cocked a single eyebrow. “San Diego?”
He shook his head.
“I went to school at Yale. Any chance you’re familiar with Yale?” she asked.
“No,” he said.
“Well, where have you been?”
“I grew up near San Antonio, Texas. Have you been there?”
She shook her head. “Good grief, there has to be at least one place that we’ve both been. What about high school? Where’d you go to high school?”
“In Texas.”
“Vacation?”
“Cancun, Mexico?” he suggested.
She shook her head.
“Myrtle Beach, South Carolina?”
Her eyes widened. “I’ve been there.”
“Okay, we’ve picked a place where we met. We met at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina.”
“That was painful,” Layla said. “At this rate, we won’t have a full backstory until sometime next year. Like when did you propose?”
“I came here to ask your father for your hand in marriage, and then turned around and proposed to you.” He took the ring box, got down on one knee and held it out in front of her. “Layla Grey, would you do me the honor of becoming my fiancée for the duration of this assignment?”
Her lips twitched, and the light danced in her eyes. When her lips spread into a smile, the look on her face hit Bull square in the chest.
She held out her ring hand. “Why, Mr. Smith, because my father told me I had to, I accept your offer for the duration of your assignment.”
He took the ring from the box and slid it on her ring finger. “I guess then it’s official. We got engaged here in your father’s office, because you couldn’t stand to be apart from me any longer. Ever since we met at Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. How long ago?”
“A year and a half,” she answered. “It was our last vacation with my mother.”
He nodded. “I could have been there.”
“Good, now that that’s done…” She pushed to her feet. “I need to get ready for dinner.”
He fell in step beside her as she headed for the door. “Since you know where your room is, and my room is next to yours, I’ll follow you.”
Layla frowned, stopped and faced him. “Just because we’re engaged, doesn’t mean that you get to take any liberties.”
He smiled. “And what kind of liberties would those be?”
Her brow formed a V over her nose. “You know what I’m talking about.”
“I don’t know,” he said, a smile fighting to be free on his lips. “I’m just a dumb soldier. Maybe you’d better spell it out for me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Suffice it to say…hands off.”
He held up his hands. “I told you, you’re not my type. I usually go for blondes.”
She touched a hand to her dark hair. “Well, that should make it easier then.”
He nodded. “I’m not at all interested in you, so you don’t have to worry.” He cocked a brow. “Don’t forget though, we’re a newly engaged couple. We have to make everything look real.”
“How so?” she asked.
He straightened, towering over her. “I would assume a newly engaged couple would at least hold hands.”
Her brow puckered. She thought about it. “I guess that’ll be all right.”
He moved closer. “A newly engaged man would put his arm around his fiancée like this.” He placed his hand at the small of her back.
“Don’t push it, soldier,” she warned.
His hand fell to his side. “We’ll work on that.”
“When we’re alone,” she said, “there’s no need for us to pretend. We can be ourselves.”
He nodded. “But when we’re in company, we’ll have to show a little bit of that PDA.”
“PDA?” she asked, her dark eyebrow arching delicately.
“Public display of affection,” he clarified.
“I don’t know about that,” she said.
He held out his hands. “You want people to buy into this charade, don’t you?”
“Not really,” she replied. “It’s my father’s idea.”
“You don’t want to disrespect your
father, do you?” Bull asked.
Layla sighed. “No. I don’t. But I don’t want you hovering over me.”
“I promise not to hover,” he said.
“Good, now I’ve really got to get going. My father has strict rules about being at dinner on time. Sometimes, we have guests, and he doesn’t like to keep them waiting.”
“Very well.” He waved a hand toward the door. “Lead the way.”
Bull had to hurry to keep up with her. He snagged his suitcase as he passed the secretary’s desk, and they walked on to the elevator. They descended a floor, got out and walked down a long corridor.
“I have the last room on the end. Apparently, yours is beside mine. When I go to bed at night, I don’t like to be disturbed. I don’t get up in the morning until at least eight o’clock, and I don’t like people to talk to me until I’ve had my first cup of coffee.”
He tapped his heels together and popped a salute. “Yes, ma’am.”
Her brow descended. “And I don’t like when people patronize me.”
He grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
“And you can’t go around calling me ma’am if we’re supposed to be engaged.”
“Yes—” He paused. “What do you want me to call you? Do I have a pet name for you?”
She shook her head. “I’ve never had a pet name or nickname.”
“Well, your given name is Layla. I could call you Layla or my pet name for you could be Lolli.”
She rolled her eyes. “No, just no. Call me Layla. And I can’t call you Mr. Smith.”
He’d be hard pressed to answer to it anyway, since his last name wasn’t Smith. “Well, my first name is Greg,” he said. It was Craig, but she didn’t need to know that. He was undercover, and it was close enough. Craig sounded enough like Greg, that he wouldn’t get confused. “My friends call me Bull.”
Layla frowned. “Don’t your friends like you?”
He laughed. They called him Bull because his real last name was Bullington. For the duration of the assignment, his last name was Smith. He couldn’t tell her about the true nature of his nickname being a derivative of his real last name. Instead, he waved a hand in front of him. “I’m so large, my friends call me Bull because they think I’m like a bull in a china shop.
She nodded with a smile. “I can see that.”
“You can call me Greg, or you can call me Bull. I don’t care.”
She stared at him for a long moment. “I think I’ll call you Bull. But not because of a bull in a china shop, but more because of the bullshit we’re having to put up with.” She grinned. “Yeah, I like it. I’m gonna call you Bull.”
It didn’t bother Bull. His friends had called him worse.
She walked toward her room. “I leave for dinner at fifteen minutes before the hour. If you plan to escort me down, be ready.”
He nodded. “What’s the uniform for the evening?”
She shook her head. “We have to work on that military speak. Dinner attire is formal. You’ll need a black suit and tie.”
Thank goodness he’d packed one. Now all he needed was an iron to get out all of the wrinkles.
Layla ducked into her room.
He entered his, tossed his suitcase up on the bed and rummaged through it to find the suit they’d come up with for the assignment. Thankfully they’d found one off the rack in a store downtown.
It wasn’t a perfect fit, but it was close enough. The entire time he was getting ready, he listened for the sound of her door opening. If he was to keep her safe, he needed to be with her twenty-four-seven. Being one door away from her, was one door too many. But Bull was absolutely certain she would not agree to him sleeping in the same room as her. He’d have to make do and keep his ears open.
Fifteen minutes before the hour, he stepped out into the hallway.
Layla’s door opened, and she emerged wearing a long black dress that hugged her from her breasts to her thighs and fell down in soft folds to her ankles. On her feet, she wore high heeled, strappy sandals sprinkled with shiny crystals. She’d swept her glorious dark hair up into a sleek arrangement at the back of her head with tiny tendrils of hair drifting down along her neck. Sparkly diamond hoops dangled from her ears, and a matching pendant nestled above her cleavage, held in place with a gold chain.
Bull’s breath caught in his throat.
The woman was stunning. Dark, sultry and so beautiful, he could barely draw in a deep breath.
Her gaze raked over him, and she nodded with a small smile. “Not bad, for a soldier.”
Bull silently thanked his mother for forcing him to train for and attend cotillion. He’d recognize the place settings and the numerous eating utensils beside the plates. At least, he wouldn’t have to guess which one to use for what. He could practically guarantee that none of the other men on his team would know a salad fork from a prawn fork.
But his dinner partner…
Wow.
Bull prayed he didn’t trip over his new dress shoes as he escorted her down the hallway to the elevator.
Chapter 2
Layla had sighed as she’d stepped out of her assigned quarters, fully expecting to see a soldier trying to dress up like a gentleman and wondering how he would behave in front of all the dignitaries that usually sat with them at dinner.
He probably wouldn’t know one fork from another in the place settings. It was enough of an effort for her to play hostess without her trying to keep an eye on her dinner partner to make sure he didn’t commit some faux pas that would insult their guests.
As she’d turned to close her door, she’d spotted Bull standing in the hallway. Her breath had caught. For a moment she’d stood still, drinking in the tall, gorgeous drink of water that was her fake fiancé. The old saying of a suit maketh a man could easily be turned around to say this man made that suit.
Most tall, broad-shouldered men looked bulky in formal attire. Not this guy. He wore the suit like a second skin, his shoulders filling the jacket to perfection. His trousers accentuated his long legs, making him appear even taller.
He’d given her a tight smile. “You look lovely, my dear,” he said and held out his hand.
“There’s nobody around right now,” she whispered. “You don’t have to pretend to be my fiancé.”
He continued to smile, his hand still held out in front of him. In a low tone only she could hear, he said. “There’s a camera in the corner that I’m certain takes in all of this hallway. Smile and come give me a kiss.”
As irritated as she was, she took his hand and let him pull her into his arms.
“That’s more like it,” he said.
“Don’t push it,” she whispered, and leaned up to brush his lips with hers. The spark of electricity that passed between them left her lips tingling.
Yes, she knew there were cameras in the hallway, but she’d forgotten that she needed to put on a show for anyone and everyone who might be watching. She should be glad that he had remembered. Instead, she was irritated and now strangely aware of how soft his lips were against hers. Which irritated her even more.
The last thing she needed was to get involved with a bodyguard. Not that she had plans to get involved with Bull. He was just one more person who stood in the way of getting her work done. One more person she’d have to dodge later on this evening. She had no doubt that she could though. She’d gotten around every other bodyguard assigned to her, her personal assistant and her father.
She didn’t do it out of spite or because she was a spoiled little rich girl. She did it out of need. A need to help others less fortunate than her, but that was a concern for later that evening. Right now, she had to get through a boring dinner, playing host with her father, since her mother wasn’t there to perform the function of hostess to her father’s host. It was up to her to support her father in his important duties as the US ambassador to Turkey. He was their country’s number one representative in a country that was struggling beneath a president who would be a totalitarian if h
e had his way.
Bull took her hand, looped it through his elbow and patted her arm. “Ready?”
She had been a moment ago, but now she was just a little bit unsure. This man was not like her other bodyguards. His movements were like that of a dancer, clean and smooth, and his bearing was one of a gentleman.
She glanced up at him. “What branch of the service did you say you were in?”
His lips twitched as he whispered, “Army.”
“Officer or enlisted?”
A smile spread across his face. “Enlisted.”
“What are they teaching in basic training nowadays?” she asked.
He stared straight ahead. “How to carry a gun and shoot people.”
Layla walked beside him to the elevator. So, he knew how to address a woman and to walk with her, but would he know how to sit at a dinner table and carry on a decent conversation, without saying something that could start a war?
“Do me a favor tonight,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. And only answer questions yes or no. The less you say, the better. Unless you’re asked how we met, then you can tell them our story.”
His lip curled up on one side. “Anything else?”
She shot him a narrow-eyed glance, looking for sarcasm in his expression.
His face was poker straight.
“Yes, don’t call me ma’am. It makes me feel old.” She smiled and sailed through the open door of the elevator, pulling him in with her. Knowing the elevator also had a camera, she kept smiling all the way down to the floor with the formal dining room.
Her father met them at the elevator. “Layla, you look lovely.” He kissed both of her cheeks and shook hands with Bull. “Good, good, you look wonderful, too,” he said as he released Bull’s hand. “This dinner will give us a good opportunity to announce my daughter’s engagement.”
Bull dipped his head in a nod.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
Layla glanced up at Bull, and he caught her gaze.
They nodded at the same time.
“Good.” The ambassador turned toward the dining room. “Tonight’s guest is the head of the Ministry of Justice.”
