Barefoot With a Bodyguard (12 page)

“You need to shower,” she said.

“Pool bath didn’t work, huh?” He lifted an arm and pretended to sniff, which was somehow just as sexy as everything else he did that wasn’t intended to be sexy but was anyway. “Sorry.”

“I’m the one who should be sorry for keeping you out of a shower. Please feel free to take one after breakfast, and I’ll…” She tried to think of somewhere that would feel perfectly safe, but he turned and looked at her during the pause, and suddenly nothing felt…safe. “I’ll lock all the doors and windows and stay…”

“
I’ll
lock all the doors and windows,” he said. “And I’ll leave the bathroom door open so I can hear you if you need me.”

“Okay.” She forced herself not to look at his lower half and remember how he’d looked by the pool. Hard. Stiff.
Huge
.

“What did you just say?” he asked.

Oh, God, had she said that out loud? She tried to cover with a sip of coffee.

“You said okay,” he reminded her. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you agree to anything so easily.” He gave a hint of a teasing smile, easing her nerves enough that she slipped onto the barstool to watch him cook.

“I admit I don’t acquiesce easily.”

His shoulders moved with a slight laugh. “Because why use one syllable when fifteen are available?”

“I like big words, so sue me.”

“They do roll off your tongue.”

She studied him from the back, analyzing the comment. “Does that bother you?” She didn’t make him feel stupid, did she?

“I was raised by a…” He caught himself and stopped.

“By a what?”

“I have humble beginnings, Kate. Never got around to much higher education, and a lot of the time, the only thing I heard spoken was Russian.”

He stirred the eggs in the pan with a wooden spoon, his left hand adjusting the gas flame to his liking, all of his movements in the kitchen as clean and spare as they had been out on the patio.

What would he be like as a lover?

Oh, Lord. She gulped some coffee as he turned to look at her again. “We’re not supposed to do this, you know,” he said.

Think about each other as lovers?
Yes, I know.

“But…” She held his gaze as long as she could, but it was intense and did stupid things to her pulse, so she looked down. “Since we’re alone in this villa, I think we can be totally honest with each other and swear on whatever it is you swear on that we will keep each other’s secrets.”

He’d returned to the eggs, dead silent and still except for the hand working the pan.

“You can tell me who you are, what you do, and why you’re here,” she continued.

“I can’t.”

She slapped the counter lightly as frustration rocked through her. “Why not?”

He removed the eggs from the heat, as calm as she was worked up. “Because having that information puts you in a dangerous situation, Kate. It’s better if you don’t know it.”

“Puh-lease,” she scoffed. “You don’t really think someone is going to try to torture the truth out of me.”

Every ounce of humor evaporated from his expression as his features turned hard, cold, and mean. “That is exactly what I think.”

Her gaze dropped to his hand again, the one holding the pan, the one marked with a Russian word. What kind of people would torture her to get to him? What kind of—

“Holy shit.” She put her hand up to her mouth, but that didn’t hold back the terrifying truth. “The Russian mob.”

His whole body, every amazing muscle in it, froze. Without so much as a breath of response, he finished the scrambled eggs and put them on two plates, placing one in front of her with a fork and napkin from a drawer. Each move was spare, silent, and stiff with anger.

“Thanks.” She spread the napkin on her lap while he got his own fork, waiting for him to sit next to her. But he made no move to come around the counter and join her. “Am I right?” she asked, pushing him like a reluctant witness in court, certain she was so, so right.

His jaw locked as he gave her a death stare. “Don’t do this, Kate. Just…don’t.”

She lifted up her fork and imagined exactly what she’d do in court. Walk back to her notes. Take a minute to let the obvious answer, however unspoken, burn into the jury’s collective conscience.

And try another line of questioning.

After she scooped some eggs, she angled her head and asked, “How long have you been teaching jiu-jitsu?”

He leaned against the counter, holding the plate in one hand, the fork in the other. As she hoped, he visibly relaxed when she changed the subject.

“I’m an MMA trainer, not a jiu-jitsu instructor,” he said. “Though that’s my strongest discipline. I know enough of all the martial arts to use techniques in training MMA fighters.”

“MMA.” She sipped her coffee, thinking about what she knew about martial arts. “That’s more or less like a wrestling match, right? Only…more violent?”

A hint of a smile pulled. “Much more. And mixed martial arts is more than wrestling, although wrestling is a big part of it.”

Over the rim of her cup, she stole another long look at him, imagining him in some brief, tight, body-hugging shorts going after an opponent in a ring. She hated that kind of stuff, really had no stomach for it at all, but imagining him… Well, she didn’t hate that at all.

“And they do this for fun?”

“Guys generally fight for money or titles or placement, if they’re pros. MMA is a sport,” he said, a thin note of defensiveness in his voice. “It’s a legit athletic event with a commission and rules and championships.” He defiantly filled his fork and shoved some eggs in his mouth.

“Don’t you want to sit down?” she asked, still holding her first bite, uneaten.

“I’ll stand.”

In other words, I don’t want to be that close to you.
Kate finally took her bite, ignoring the punch of disappointment or shame or whatever made her feel wretched. And then she powered on.

“Do you fight like that? In a ring with an opponent?” The thought made her stomach tighten a little. He certainly looked like he’d been beaten up a few times.

“I don’t compete, no. I have, but I really prefer to use my skills to train. After I got out of the Marines, I opened a school in Philly and…” He closed his eyes and shut himself up. “Man, you’re good at that.”

“At what?” But, of course, she knew.

“Getting people to tell you things they don’t want to. No wonder you want to be a lawyer.”

“Thanks.”

Chewing another bite, he nodded. “Speaking of, guess you should hit the books soon, huh?”

Couldn’t get her out of his sight fast enough, could he? “Thanks for breakfast,” she said, slipping off the barstool and taking her plate. “Feel free to take a shower. I won’t”—
drop by to watch
—“go anywhere.”

“Or let anyone in.”

“I promise I won’t break a single rule of the ideal principal.”

“All right. I’m going to trust you.”

She smiled and put her dish in the sink. “Jeez, Alec, that’s the nicest thing you ever said to me.”

Two minutes. That was exactly how long Alec would let himself stay under the hot spray and soap his body. He scrubbed hard, wishing the tiny bar of soap was lye, and not just because he hadn’t had a proper shower in days. It was almost like he wanted to scrub off the filth that clung to his life, the stuff that made a lady like her turn her lip up at every word he said and every move he made.

He squeezed his eyes shut and faced the water stream, but he could still see the disgust on her face at the topic of MMA. The light flush of revulsion in her cheeks when she forced herself to touch him, and take pity on him.

The general disdain for him that tinged every word she said.

And, of course, she zeroed right in on the real reason he was here. Guessed his name, fished out his story, and got him to tell more than he would to a person he considered a friend.

And every piece of him made her sick. He could tell by the way she shook a little when he came into her line of sight, how she stared at him when she thought he didn’t notice.

Well, shit. In his whole life, he’d never bothered even acknowledging the existence of a woman like Kate Kingston. After the first twenty-four hours with her, he knew exactly why. He couldn’t even look at her for more than two seconds without seeing her recoil. He was ugly, scarred, and broken. She was beautiful, sensitive, and brilliant.

He twisted off the water and instantly heard the sound of…laughter? Was she on the phone again? He pushed open the glass door and heard her talking and…a man answering.

Son of a bitch!

He damn near knocked the door off its hinges, he threw it open so hard, barreling through the bedroom and into the hall, water still sluicing over his body. He charged into the living room to see her holding a huge bouquet of flowers, talking to—

“Uh, hello.” Nino Rossi’s bushy gray eyebrows lifted as his gaze dropped.

“You opened the door,” Alec said to Kate, not caring that she was looking in the same direction, her face turning the color of the red roses in her hands.

“It was Nino.”

“You opened the door,” he repeated. “We had a…” A deal. A discussion. A
promise
. And she’d screwed him like a dirty opponent executing a finishing hold.

“It was
Nino
,” she repeated. “I looked through the…” Her words strangled in her throat as she turned away, as if she couldn’t stand to look at his naked body. “Thank you,” she said to Nino. “You better go now.”

Nino nodded once, shot a weird look at Alec, and backed out the door, closing it.

Kate stayed turned away. “You can get dressed now,” she said, her voice strained.

He marched closer to her. “You opened the fucking door, Kate,” he said, hoping the third time it would sink in. “Do you understand now why I cannot confide in you?”

She whipped around, eyes blazing. “Don’t ever talk to me that way!” she ordered.

He shook his head, not willing to apologize for his reaction. Instead, he moved an inch forward.

Her gaze dropped, as though she was horrified, but he had to make his point. “You swear to secrecy, you promise you can’t be convinced to tell anyone anything, you use your…your talent to pull information out of me. And what’s the first thing you do? Open the door after you told me you wouldn’t.”

“You’re naked.”

“I’m furious.”

She slowly eased the flowers to the side and met his gaze. “I’m going to say this one last time. It was Nino. He’s on our side. I didn’t tell him anything. He was at the door and told me it was okay to open it.”

“What if he’d been telling you that because some motherfucker was behind him with a gun?”

Her eyes flickered with the first real fear he’d seen yet.

“It
is
the mob, isn’t it?”

He closed his eyes. “Kate.”

“Just tell me.”

Water trickled over him, his skin icy cold in the air conditioning and under the chill of her look. “Why do you need to know?” He gave his head a quick shake. “What difference does it make?”

“I want to know who you are,” she whispered, the confession soft and surprising.

“I’ll tell you who I am,” he replied, taking the flowers because it looked like the heavy vase was making her arms quiver. “I’m the guy who has been given your life to protect.” He looked for a place to put the flowers. He saw a table a few feet away and set them down, glancing at her and catching her stealing another look at his dick.

And her jaw loosened.

Shit. He was frightening fully clothed. Right now, he probably looked like a fucking caveman.

“And I’m the worst person for that task.”

“Why would you say that?”

He looked past her at the door, reaching to snap the dead bolt, making her back up to avoid contact with him. “Never mind,” he said, glancing down at his bare body. “And, well, sorry.” He started to return to the bathroom, but a warm, slender, unexpected hand landed on his shoulder.

“Why are you sorry?” she whispered. “I broke the only promise I made to you.”

He stood stone still, aware—crazy aware—of how close she was and how much it took for her to acknowledge that truth, making her as exposed as he was. And he sure as shit didn’t mean the fact that he didn’t have pants on.

He didn’t answer, but couldn’t bring himself to move away from her warm hand. Not quite yet. It was like that hot shower. It felt so damn good.

“Why would you say you’re the worst person to protect me? Please tell me the truth.”

The truth. She was always seeking it, and he had to hide it. All of it.

“Please tell me, Alec.” She was so close, he could feel her breath on his shoulder.

“Let me go, Kate.”

Instantly, her hand dropped, leaving his skin cold where it had been so warm.

“Maybe you’ll tell me tonight,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

Not likely. “What’s tonight?”

“The flowers that were delivered from the hotel came with an invitation to dine tonight as guests of the resort, at Junonia. I guess it’s something they do for honeymooners.”