Cindy Dees - The 9-Month Bodyguard

They were a rock band currently topping the charts. Their reputation was already worse than hers had ever been. And yet, because they were guys, they got away with all the rotten stunts that had deep-sixed her career. In fact, their careers were helped by their wild antics. She put aside her bitterness. The double standard was just part of the business.

Saul was talking again, mumbling to himself. “…would put their knickers in a twist if I canceled their leather-clad butts. And tickets for their show are set to go on sale in three days…We could call a press conference…make a big announcement about your comeback…tickets could go on sale immediately and we could capitalize on the buzz…”

He looked up at her. “You’d have only six weeks to pull the entire thing together. You won’t be able to scrimp on anything…it’s going to have to be a top-notch production or you’ll be a worse has-been than you are now.”

Ouch.

He continued, “I’m telling you, I think it’s impossible to get a decent show together by then. Plus, June isn’t the big tourist season on the strip.”

She replied hopefully, “But it’s hot enough that everyone who is in town is inside and going to shows.”

He shrugged. “I can’t promise sellout crowds with only a few weeks to promote the gig. But if you’re hell-bent on doing this thing right away, I can book you for June.”

She darted around his desk to lay a big hug on him, just like the old days. The tears of gratitude that came to her eyes seemed to surprise him as much as they surprised her. She whispered, too choked up to speak any louder, “Thanks, Uncle Saul. I promise I won’t let you down this time.”

For just a moment, he returned the hug. Then he cleared his throat and set her away from him. “Now. About music,” he said briskly. “I’d better be the one to make the call to your old label. The way I hear it, you didn’t part on the best of terms.”

Silver grimaced. Now there was an understatement. She’d been fired and escorted out of the record company’s building by armed guards. In retrospect, she’d probably deserved worse. As she recalled—vaguely—she’d been stoned out of her head at the time.

She took a deep breath. “Actually, Saul, I’ve been writing some of my own stuff. Maybe we could use some of that—”

He cut her off with a slashing hand through the air. “Nobody ever builds a decent career on their own stuff. Three or four bigname, girl pop singers have taken time off recently. There’ll be plenty of good songs lying around waiting for a big, sexy voice.”

“But—”

“No buts. Your father told me to launch your second career, and that’s what I aim to do. You leave the music to me, baby doll.”

She wanted to tell him she wasn’t a baby doll anymore. She was a grown woman, dammit, and she didn’t want to do the same old music she’d sung the last time around. She wanted to do something new. Something more soulful, more…grown up. But Saul was first and foremost her father’s man. And, he’d been a dear about the scheduling problem. He’d canceled a huge act for her. Like it or not, she was probably going to have to go along with him on the music thing.

She sighed. Time for more of that maturity stuff.

“…stop by tomorrow, and I’ll show you the stage. We’ve made quite a few changes to it since you last were on it.”

She winced again. The last time she’d sung on the Grand stage seven years ago, she’d been too fried to hit a note, had forgotten lyrics left and right and had topped off the disaster by being booed offstage. Not one of her more stellar moments in her meteoric fall from grace.

“I’ll be here first thing tomorrow. And Saul…thanks. For everything. This means the world to me.”

He gave her his first genuine smile. “I’m counting on it, Silver Girl. If you don’t fill the house every night, I’m gonna lose a fortune. Those British prima donnas would’ve sold a lot of tickets.”

“Gee. No pressure there.”

He quirked a pragmatic brow. “Music’s a tough business. Art be damned—this is about dollar signs. You sure you want back in the game?”

She took a deep breath and answered, certain for the first time in a long time about something. “Yes. I’m sure. This is exactly what I want to do.” The only thing in the world she wanted to do as much as be a mother was sing. Good Lord willing, she’d find a way to do both.

She let herself out of Saul’s office, blissfully happy, and ran smack dab into a living wall of muscle. “Whoa, I’m sor—” she started. And then she looked up. Austin Dearing. “—Oh. It’s you.”

“If you want to play games with me, Miss Rothchild, I’m telling you now you’re going to lose. Please don’t try to ditch me again.”

“I didn’t try to—”

He cut her off. “I’d highly recommend never fibbing to me. I have an alarming tendency to turn into a serious bastard when I get lied to.”

She muttered under her breath, “You’re already there.” Rather than stand around arguing with this mountain of a man, she turned and stalked back toward the casino. If he wanted to tag along, that was fine with her.

Austin tagged along all right. He was half tempted to jack her up against a wall by the shirt front and explain a thing or two to Miss Fancy Pants. She didn’t seem to grasp that it was not part of his job description to chase around after his subjects like a puppy on a leash. She might be a celebrity, but her life now rested in his hands…not the other way around.

She barged out into the explosion of color and sound that was the casino’s gambling floor, and his irritation intensified. The place was a security nightmare. Cut-throughs and niches were everywhere, and an assailant could be lurking in any of them. There was so much commotion in here that a guy like him couldn’t possibly see a threat coming with his vitally important peripheral vision. Surely there was a way around the casino in a hotel this size. She needed to take an alternate route, dammit!

A low-level hum of panic vibrated in his gut. As a security man, this place made him feel like he’d already failed. Clamping down on the anxiety clawing its way up his spine, he lengthened his stride to catch up to Silver as they neared the front of the place. His impulse was to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, and get her the hell out of here. Now. He exhaled carefully. Must go easy on this particular client. Break her in gently to the idea of having a bodyguard, without alienating her if at all possible.

“Hey, slow down,” he murmured casually from just behind her. He needed to get in front of her, pronto!

She blatantly ignored him and continued marching on.

“I mean it, Silver. You need to move more slowly so I can clear the area in front of you for threats.”

She spared him an irate glance over her shoulder and didn’t even break stride.

His gaze narrowed. Several extremely unkind names for her flashed through his head. Fine. He could play that game, too.

He grabbed her by the arm and swung her around sharply to face him. She was a tiny little thing, and her weight was nothing in his hand. He took an aggressive step closer and glared down at her. “I tried to do this the nice way. But now we’re gonna do it my way. I’m heading for the nearest exit and getting you under cover, and you’re going with me whether you like it or not. Got that?”

She nervously eyed a cluster of people near the front entrance, most of whom wielded big cameras. “Don’t make a fuss,” she hissed.

“Too late,” he retorted. “I’m making as big a fuss as I damn well feel like. And you are not going anywhere else in this hotel until I say so.”