In Bed with the Bodyguard (5 page)

Lance shocked the bejesus out of her when he leaned down to nuzzle her cheek and plant a soft kiss on her ear. Her body went on high alert, instantly craving more of his touch. “Nice to meet you, Sorenson. Any friend of my girl, and all that…”

Holy moly, was that his hand creeping around her side and grazing her breast? It was. The dirty devil.

Sorenson totally ignored Lance. “Arianna, I saw the news last night. Vandals in Georgetown. Awful.” He shook his head and
tsk
ed. “Do you think it has anything to do with your father?” He whispered
father
the way people said
cancer
.

Lance's hand froze on her rear and his muscles tensed. “Sorenson, was it?” he asked. “You live in the neighborhood, right?”

The silver-haired man nodded. “Down the street.”

Lance removed his hands from her body. “That close, huh?” His voice was all business. “Were you home yesterday afternoon?”

The look on Sorenson's face was priceless. Whatever names Ari wanted to call him, idiot was not one of them.

“What are you implying?” Sorenson asked.

“I think you know. Did you see anything suspicious?”

“Of course not. I would have contacted the police straightaway.” He turned to face Ari, and came close to giving Lance his back. “Did they steal anything?”

“Um, no. They defaced a painting.” Saying the words refreshed the pain of knowing
Club Lily
was out of commission.

“No.” He held a hand to his mouth. “May I see it?”

“Really? Okay.” She led the way to the back office, where she'd placed the painting, its front facing the wall. Sorenson followed at a close distance, speculation and prurient interest rolling off him almost tangibly. Why had she never noticed what a skeez he was before? Sure, he'd always annoyed her, but he'd seemed harmless enough. Now she wanted him out of her gallery, out of her home.

They reached her office and Lance gave Sorenson approximately five seconds to view the destroyed painting before asking, “What do you think of Arianna including one of her ceramic pieces in the gallery?”

Not only was she shocked and strangely humbled at his boasting, but she wanted to kiss him for his conversation topic changer. Well, more than she usually did, at any rate. Only now her unwanted elder suitor was only more interested in her than ever.

“Arianna, you never told me you work with clay.”

“I don't,” she said. “It's a hobby, and my work will never be shown here.” She kept her tone light, not hinting that it had been a lifelong dream to walk into a prestigious gallery displaying her own artwork. That goal was dead and now she had the power to grant the dream to other artists, which was as good. Almost.

“Oh, don't be modest. I'm sure your sculpture is as beautiful as you are,” Sorenson said, looking at her as if she were a nude portrait.

She glared at Lance for putting her in this situation, but he grinned and raised a challenging eyebrow.

“Mr. Sorenson, Lance promised to take me to lunch. Please excuse us, I need to lock up the gallery,” she said and stepped toward the door.

Sorenson turned to Lance and focused on him again. “You look familiar. What did you say your name was?”

“Lance. Lance Brown,” Ari answered for him, wondering why Lance suddenly looked uncomfortable.

“Where do I know you from?” Sorenson wondered aloud, tapping his chin, but Lance swung the gallery door open and more or less pushed Sorenson out the door.

“Good-bye. Come again,” Lance said. “Next century,” he muttered. “What an ass.” He shut the door, turned the key, and faced her. “Lunch?”

“Yep, where are you taking me?” Ari asked with a big smile.

Y
our grandmother's? You're taking me to your
grandmother's
house for a lunch date?” Arianna asked, totally shocked and a little horrified. Her dating history had never progressed to meeting a boyfriend's parents, let alone his grandmother. “I was joking about you taking me to lunch, but now you're the one joking, right?”

Lance shot her a sharp glance. “Nope, no joke, and I've been promising Nana that I'd come check her Internet connection for her. She says it has been running slow.”

“Nana?”

“My grandmother.” Lance walked to her office, where he'd seen her leave her keys and purse.

He tossed her purse at her and started out the back door.

“Your grandmother's Internet connection is running slow?”

“Yep.”

She followed him blindly out the back door. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but don't grandmothers knit and crochet, not surf the web?”

“You haven't met my nana,” Lance said with a grin. He unlocked the Mini and held the passenger door open. For her. The arrogance.

“I'm driving.” She stepped away from the passenger side.

“Not this time. You don't know the way to my grandmother's. It's more efficient if I drive.”

He had a point. “Fine, but don't get used to it.”

They drove for about ten minutes in companionable silence, except for Ari's nagging worry that this lunch meant something. “Won't she wonder?”

Lance turned to give her a quick glance. “Who?”

“Your nana. Won't she assume we're something more than friends if you bring me to meet her?” She'd never met a single relative of any of her boyfriends. On purpose. She didn't do relationships.

He gave his lip a thoughtful bite. “Don't know. I've never introduced her to any woman other than my fiancée.”

“Your fiancée?” Ari sat up straighter in her seat. “You're engaged?” She immediately attempted to squelch any lustful thoughts she'd had toward him heretofore.

“Former fiancée,” Lance corrected.

She let out a breath and allowed a portion of her mind back to the gutter. “Former fiancée? What happened?” She loved a good dishy story as long it didn't involve the words
Stanley Rose
or
investment fraud
.

As soon as he'd slipped about his fiancée, he could've kicked himself for mentioning it. It happened a long time ago and he barely thought about it anymore, except February 14, the day he'd proposed. It was surprising when the word
fiancée
had come out of his mouth.

“Tell me about her.” Ari slid off her heels and rested her pearly pink toenails against the dash.

He glanced at his sexy passenger, curious at her rabid enthusiasm to hear about his past, though it was ancient history at this point. Any feelings he'd had on his broken engagement were long dormant. “Nothing to tell, she was only my fiancée for a matter of hours.”

Her feet slammed down to the floor mat and she sat up in her seat. “
Whaaat?
Only hours? Are you serious? Spill it, I want to know the whole story.”

Lance focused on keeping his eyes on the road, difficult with a curvaceous redhead literally hanging on to him and listening to his every word. “I said there's nothing to tell.” He slowed down for a red light and signaled to turn onto Calvert Street.

Arianna licked her lips and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Don't hold out, Mr. Agent. You have a Past. Spill it.”

He rolled his eyes and gave in. “Her name was Diana. I met her in college and proposed to her on Valentine's Day of our senior year.”

“Which she accepted. For a few hours,” Arianna said. “Wait, I thought you went straight into the army?”

“You thought wrong. I never went into the military.”

“Oh.” She turned to face the front window again with a frown on her face. “I thought you had to be in the military first before going into the Secret Service.”

“Nope,” he said.

“Oh. Back to you. So you went to college, met Diana, and it was true love.”

He barked out a laugh. “Obviously not true love.”

“So why did she break it off?”

Hmm, how much to tell her? Ari didn't seem to know who he was, or rather who his family was. He liked being with a woman who wasn't counting the zeroes in his bank account. It was refreshing, and he'd learned his lesson too many times about a woman's financial motivations when it came to dating.

If he was keeping mum on the whole
my family is on the Forbes 400 list
, then he couldn't tell her about the conversation he'd overheard Diana having with her best friend about landing the wealthiest catch on campus. “First of all, I broke up with her.”

“Hours after proposing?”

“She wasn't who I thought she was.”

Arianna sat back in her bucket seat and seemed to sink in on herself. “People rarely are,” she said in a quiet voice, a trace of bitterness seeping through.

Who was she thinking of? Her father? A former boyfriend? His grip tightened on the steering wheel in an irrational burst of jealousy over a woman with whom he had no relationship.

“You're lucky you discovered it hours into your engagement instead of years into your marriage.” She gave a shake as if to remove the negative vibe, and turned back to him with a bright smile. “How long a drive to your grandmother's house?”

She still seemed nervous about meeting his grandmother, which Lance found amusing and actually perceptive. Taking Arianna to lunch at his nana's house had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. He'd already planned on visiting his grandmother today, but taking Arianna along hadn't been in the plans. However, he was feeling a little off-balance with the sexy redhead and he wanted a neutral opinion on the woman. One moment he wanted to kiss her, and the next she had him wanting to storm out of her gallery.

“Around ten more minutes depending on traffic,” he said. Nana lived in a suburb outside D.C. in the same house she'd lived in for the last fifty years. Lance's mom kept trying to get her to move into assisted living, but Nana was having none of it. A lot of the maintenance and visits fell onto Lance's shoulders since he was the local family member. Not that he minded: his nana was one of the sharpest women he'd ever met. He couldn't wait for her to meet Arianna and give her opinion.

They drove the rest of the way in near silence until Arianna switched on the CD player to let the sound of Bruno Mars vibrate throughout the car. Traffic was light, and they made good time to Nana's sixties brick split-level.

After he parked on the street in front of her house, Arianna opened the door to the car, then grabbed his arm. “Wait. Is your grandmother expecting us? I feel rude showing up. Why don't I wait in the car while you fix her computer problem?”

Her obvious nervousness was adorable. She was scared of an eighty-three-year-old woman, who, granted, could kick his ass to Tuesday with her no-nonsense speak? “I spoke to her yesterday. She's expecting me.”

“
You
. Not me. I don't want to startle her.”

He rolled his eyes and got out of the car to come around to Arianna's side to get her. “Don't be a wimp. Nana doesn't bite or scare easily.”

He stood outside the car while Arianna swiped on some lipstick and fumbled with her already perfect hair.

“I already told you, you look gorgeous. Get out of the car.”

“I'm coming, I'm coming,” she said and used his offered hand to pull her up out of the seat. They made it about five steps toward the front door when Arianna remembered her cell phone charging in the car and walked back to get it.

They finally made it to the front door without further delay, and he knocked to give a warning, then used his key in the door. “Nana? It's me, Lance.” He stepped into the foyer, tugging Arianna along with him.

His tiny, wiry, but spritely grandmother appeared in the kitchen doorway facing the entry. “Lance. You made it. I was beginning to worry.”

He bent to plant a kiss on her over-rouged cheek. “You? Worry? I don't believe it.”

Nana chuckled. “You got me. I knew Mr. Reliable grandson was on his way. How's your leg? Off the crutches, I see.” She turned to Arianna in a whirl. “And who's this?”

Arianna stepped forward extending a hand. “Hi, Mrs.…” She turned to Lance, a question on her face. “…Brown? I'm Arianna Rose.”

Nana pulled her into an embrace. “Not Mrs. Brown. Mrs. Gold, I'm Lance's maternal grandmother, but no one calls me that. Call me Nana. Everybody does.”

Arianna clung to Nana's shoulders with a look of pure bemusement. “Okay, Nana. It's nice to meet you.” She stepped back closer to Lance.

“How nice you were able to join my grandson on this daytime visit. No job?” Nana asked, cutting straight to the chase as usual.

Pride bled through Arianna's answer. “It's Sunday, and I have a job. I own an art gallery in Georgetown,” she said. “So my hours are flexible.”

“Nana, I'm going to take a look at your computer,” Lance said, and headed toward the stairs.

“Wonderful. Arianna can keep me company while I get lunch on the table.”

At least Nana didn't expect her to help cook the lunch. She'd be sorely disappointed, but Arianna could, and did, set an artistic table.

“How long have you known Lance?” Nana asked while whisking together some oil and vinegar for the salad. “He's never mentioned you before.”

“We only met last night,” she said.

Nana whirled from facing the countertop to look at Ari. “And he's already brought you to meet his grandmother?” She sighed.

“Well, he didn't have a choice,” Arianna said, and felt better that Nana was surprised, too, though she did feel a strange compulsion to defend Lance. “He's sort of playing bodyguard for me today.”

“Why do you need a bodyguard?”

“It's a long story.” Even though she wasn't at all responsible for her father's actions, she suddenly was a little embarrassed about the whole situation in front of Lance's grandmother.

Nana patted her arm. “Normally, I'm the prying type, but I can see you don't want to share the whole story. I'll let it drop.”

Gratitude filled her. “Thank you.” She stepped closer to the oven, where a fabulous scent wafted from the vent. “Mmm, that smells delicious. What did you make?”

“You're in luck today. I made Lance's favorite. You saw the salad, and there's gazpacho chilling in the refrigerator; there were fresh tomatoes at the farmer's market yesterday. What you're smelling is spinach lasagna in the oven.”

“Yum.” Ari's stomach rumbled a bit. “I wish I knew how to cook.”

Nana eyed her sharply. “You don't know how?”

She shook her head. “I make excellent reservations, though.”

Nana smiled and pulled a large glass bowl filled to the brim with deep red soup from the fridge. “Stop by anytime you want to learn. I'm always happy for company.”

“I'd love to,” Arianna said, surprised that she meant it. Cooking had never held any appeal before. Why bother, when you lived steps from delicious food of all nationalities? But somehow Nana's kitchen welcomed her and teased her with the possibility of creation in the same way a palette of paints and blank canvas did.

Lance appeared in the doorway looking sexy and completely at home in the cozy kitchen. “How's my favorite girl?” he asked.

Ari's heart jumped until she realized Lance was grinning at his grandmother, not her. Lucky woman.

“Computer fixed?” Nana asked.

Lance nodded. “All done. You have to be more careful about email attachments. You had some software hiding and spying and slowing your system down.”

The older woman nodded. “Oh, right, that ham, spam you keep going on about. I'll get it one of these days, but how do they expect an old woman like me to keep up with your Twiddles and Facebooks.”

Ari laughed, but Lance rolled his eyes. “Don't let her spiel fool you. Nana has more friends on Facebook than you and I combined.”

Ari stopped laughing. “You're on Facebook?”

“Sure, isn't everyone?” Nana shrugged. “Enough about me. Time for lunch.”

Lance let Arianna drive home since it gave him time to both rest his sore leg and stare out the window while analyzing how it had felt seeing her in his grandmother's kitchen. It didn't take much analysis to conclude that lunch had gone well. Maybe too well. Arianna had fit in as if she were a member of the family.

Except, not exactly a cousin or a sibling. More like…his wife. Not even his actual fiancée had meshed with his beloved nana so well. What required analysis was
why
it had made him feel a deep satisfaction at seeing the two women chatting so easily.

Hell, he knew why, and he'd be lying to himself to deny it any more. He liked Arianna; he wanted to ask her out, but felt it was unprofessional as long as he was her bodyguard.

“Your nana's great.” Arianna kicked off her shoes back at her gallery and settled into her desk chair ready to make some work calls.

“She is,” Lance agreed. He paced the tiny office, stopping to examine her many photographs tacked to the walls.

“It must've been nice to grow up with someone loving you like that.” She tried to keep the envy out of her voice. She also knew her statement was a leading one. She didn't just want to talk about his nana. She wanted to talk about
Lance
. Everything about him from his family, his job, to his strong body intrigued her. Okay, mostly his sexy body. And another lie. She swallowed, realizing for that maybe the first time ever, Lance's body wasn't her primary attraction. She actually wanted to get to know him. Obviously the apocalypse was nigh.