Cindy Dees - The 9-Month Bodyguard

“I have to go see Stella. She’s the head costume designer,” she insisted. “She’s expecting me.”

“You’re not seeing anybody until you and I get a few things straight,” he replied grimly.

Her eyes snapped and sparks all but flew off her, singeing his fingertips.

She bit out, “Let’s get this straight. I’m the boss. I say where I go and when, and you follow along like a good employee and do as you’re told. You don’t make public scenes in front of tabloid reporters—of which there are a dozen behind me, right now,” her voice rose slightly in volume, “and you don’t do anything to embarrass me. Got that?” She actually had the temerity to poke him in his chest for good measure.

He was so aggravated he could strangle her right then and there. He scowled down at her and loomed even more assertively. “I am not your employee. I work for your father. You’re under my protection, and you’ll damn well do what I tell you to do when I tell you to do it and how I tell you to do it. Have you got that? ”

She blanched. “You and me—this is never going to work.”

His jaw clenched. “I’m entirely inclined to agree with you.”

If hate at first sight was possible, this was it. The woman drove him crazy, and he’d known her for two minutes.

He became aware of a surge of movement behind her. The paparazzi had apparently noticed their altercation and were closing in like a pack of hungry hyenas. He swore under his breath. Men in his line of work despised the press almost as much as the public figures they protected did. The last thing he needed was to have his face splashed all over the front pages of the tabloids.

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered at Silver.

“Ya think?” she snapped back.

“Hey, Silver!” one of the reporters shouted. “Did you hear that the Tears of the Quetzal is in police custody?”

Another piped up. “Yeah. Luke Montgomery’s fiancée found it in her purse. Do you believe that story?”

Austin frowned. What were these guys talking about? He opened his mouth to ask Silver, but just then, someone moved forward out of the crowd of reporters, jumping abruptly toward her. Austin registered dark hair and a black, burning gaze, a uniform of some kind. Something about the set of the man’s shoulders, the intensity of concentration in his eyes set off warning bells in Austin’s head. Time slowed as the guy lunged in Silver’s direction, and Austin went into high threat mode. If he’d told his men once, he’d told them a thousand times, don’t question your instincts. Act first. Ask questions later.

The guy lowered his shoulder and rammed it into Silver, spinning her around as their bodies collided. Hard. Dear God. The guy had an open shot at stabbing or shooting her at point-blank range in a vital organ! Austin went airborne, flinging himself full length through the air for Silver.

He wrapped his arms around her in a move worthy of the NFL. His momentum knocked her off her feet. While they were still airborne, he twisted to cover her with his much larger body. He released her at the last moment before they hit the floor, catching most of his body weight with his arms so he didn’t crush her.

An explosion of flashbulbs went off nearby.

Austin twisted to look for the assailant, and the guy was rushing past, his right shoulder hunched to hide his face from Austin.

And then the strangest thing happened.

A wave of heat passed over Austin, a tangible thing tingling across his skin. He saw flashes of purple and green behind his eyelids, brilliant, jeweled prisms of color momentarily blinding him. His blood rushed, pounding in his ears until frantic thumping was all he heard. Suddenly he became intensely aware of the feminine softness below him, molding to every contour of his body as if she’d been made for him. Oh, yeah. A promise of sex, hot and sweaty enough to boggle the mind, pored off her.

Silver looked up at him, her gorgeous eyes wide with surprise, fear and something else. Something…aware. Of him. As a man.

Their gazes locked and nothing short of unbridled lust roared between them. All that friction of a few seconds ago had abruptly morphed into something so steamy it set him on fire. She looked ready to come apart in his hands. In fact, a moan slipped out of her throat that was all about raging pleasure. Unseen by the press, her hips undulated beneath his, and he realized his male flesh was so hard he was in danger of busting his trouser zipper.

He swore under his breath.

Her pupils dilated until her eyes were nearly black with raw need. He wasn’t in any better shape, himself. Small problem: he was the bodyguard, and a whole bunch of cameras were very publicly recording every second of this.

“You okay?” he muttered.

She nodded, looking shell-shocked.

“I’ll get up first, then I’ll help you to your feet and pull you behind me. Keep my body between you and the photographers, okay?”

She nodded again.

He started a quick push-up when a voice shouted from nearby, “Get the hell off my girlfriend!”

Austin came smoothly to his feet and turned to face this new threat. A beefy guy a little shy of six feet tall was barreling toward them. Austin assessed the threat in an instant. More beer gut than muscle. Had barroom brawled just enough to think he was a hotshot, but lacked the balance of a trained fighter. This guy would use bluster and bullying to hide his actual lack of physical skill. A lot of noise, but not a lot of true threat.

Austin reached down and lifted Silver, as light as a feather, to her feet. He tucked her protectively against his side away from the cameras. The paparazzi had already turned their lenses on the loudmouth, and predictably, he was preening for them.

“Who the hell are you?” Austin growled.

“I’m Mark Sampson.” Bluster Boy jabbed a finger toward Silver. “Her boyfriend. And take your hands off her, jerk wad.”

Jerk wad? He hadn’t been called that since junior high. Austin allowed his amusement to show on his face. Interestingly enough, Silver huddled more closely against his side, making no move to distance herself from him in front of this boyfriend of hers. Most women would be leaping away from another man, especially with a hotheaded idiot like that for a boyfriend.

Sampson bristled. “Get away from her before I make you do it.”

A new round of flashes exploded. He could see the headline now. Brawl Over Pop Singer. He sighed. Seemed as if he was getting off on the wrong foot with everyone on this assignment. But Bubba could damned well come and try to make him unwrap his arm from Silver, who was now trembling beneath his protective hug.

“Please,” she whispered frantically from beside him. “Don’t make a scene.”

As if they hadn’t already made a big scene? But then he glanced down at her. Abject terror shone in her face. She was really scared. For him? Surely not. For Bubba? Maybe. But that didn’t feel right, either. What then? Did this have to do with her sister’s murder and the unspoken reasons he’d been hired to protect her in the first place?

He murmured under his breath, “For you, I won’t kick this guy’s ass right now. Let’s get out of here, though.”

“That’d be great,” she murmured back gratefully.

He guided her toward the lobby. Or at least he started to guide her. Sampson stepped forward aggressively and blocked their way before they’d gone two steps. “Get your hands off my girl!”

Austin gave the guy a withering stare but spoke calmly enough. “I’ve been hired to protect Miss Rothchild. I’m not making a move on your lady, so relax already. You’re making a scene and you’re making Miss Rothchild uncomfortable.”