In Bed with the Bodyguard (6 page)

“I wouldn't know. I saw my nana on summer breaks, and only sporadically.”

“Your parents didn't love you?” It surprised her. Lance seemed like the kind of guy who grew up with two solid parents, a white picket fence, and a dog.

He shrugged. “Oh, they loved me, but they had a funny way of showing it.”

“What do you mean?” She felt strangely closer to him knowing they'd both grown up with unconventional families, though she was pretty sure hers took the crazy prize. She also wanted to find the little lonely boy and soothe him.

“They loved me, but it came with expectations I never could meet. It took me a long time to give up even trying.”

“Oh.” She wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that, but he looked done discussing it, so she let it drop. She had a ton of work to do and calls to make if she was going to get her show ready on time. First call, to Lacey Klein, artist of
Club Lily
. She'd been dreading this moment all day and prayed Lacey would take it well. No artist wanted to hear her work had been defaced, and Lacey could be temperamental, even at the best of times.

She picked up the phone to dial.

Across the office, Lance picked up a glossy, gorgeous flyer she'd designed herself. “The Rose Gallery presents…?” he said, examining it closely.

“Shh.” She waved a shushing finger at him.

“This is beautiful.”

“Thanks, now be quiet.”

He grinned and zipped his lips.

“Hello.”

“Lacey? Hi, this is Arianna Rose.”

“Hey Ari. What's up? How's show prep going? Got the invitations and flyers. Gorgeous, hon, gorgeous. You should be an artist, too, you—”

“Lacey.” Ari had to cut her off. From experience she knew that if Lacey was in one of her gregarious moods—meaning the painting was going well—then she could talk a mile a minute for a marathon. If the painting wasn't going well, look out. From Lacey's bubbly enthusiasm, she'd guess all was well over at the Klein studio.

“What's going on?” Lacey said.

“I have some bad news.”

“Oh, no, don't tell me you're canceling the show, because I already sent a ton of emails out and I put it up on my website. There's this cute guy I met and I invited him…”

“No, no. The show's not canceled, but you may want to back out when you hear my news.”

“What happened?” Lacey's voice sobered.

“The gallery was broken into last night.” She ignored Lance's raised eyebrows. There was no need to remind Lacey that her father was wanted by the FBI and the SEC. “
Club Lily
was defaced and more than likely damaged permanently.”

Silence on the other end.

Ari let her client absorb the news for a few heart-wrenching moments. “Of course, the gallery insurance will make reparations and I will lower my commission on any other painting you sell at the show.”

“It's not the money, Ari.”

Oh, shit, it sounded like Lacey was crying. “Of course, it's not about the money,” Ari said in what she hoped was a soothing voice. Comforting voices were a rarity in the Rose household; she hoped she got it right.

“It's never about the money. I
loved
that painting. It was my opus, my everything.”

“Uh, I understand. I'm so sorry.” Lacey was two years younger than she was. How could she have an opus? But there was no arguing with genius. Whatever Arianna was lacking in that elusive X-factor of artistic talent, Lacey had it in spades.

“Was anything else damaged?”

“Nothing, only
Club Lily
.”

“I knew it,” Lacey wailed. “It's a sign.”

“What kind of sign?” Ari asked, wishing she'd put the phone on speaker to get Lance's reaction. His no-nonsense-officer take on the wailing, excitable artist.

“I don't know, a sign. Feel it, Ari.”

“Oh, I do.” She glanced at her watch. Lacey could keep her all day if she didn't retake control of the conversation. “Do you have anything else you'd like to show in the painting's place?”

“Maybe it means I'm going to fall in love, or win the lottery.”

Huh? Lacey must've inhaled too many paint fumes, because she made no sense. “Lacey.” Ari drew out her name to get her attention. “Swing by if you want and bring another piece to show.”

“Okay,” the artist agreed suddenly, all ranting out of her system. “Thanks for calling, Ari. You're the best.”

“You're welcome,” she said and hung up. She certainly didn't feel like the best. A good gallery owner would've set the alarms or had more hidden cameras installed to record criminal activity. She made a mental note to do that at the first opportunity, even if it meant taking out another loan. Bank of Dad looked to be closed permanently; she'd have to figure out something.

“Why the glum look?”

Lance's deep voice startled her for a moment. She'd forgotten he was in the room, though how she'd failed to notice six-plus feet of sexy male, she didn't know.

“I'm thinking of all the ways I've screwed up.”

“Did your artist say something to make you feel that way?”

“No, she took the news okay.”

“That was one hell of a hard phone call to make. You handled it well.” He prowled to her side of the desk.

His compliment filled her with warmth and an unfamiliar feeling of pride. He was right; she was good at running her gallery. She stood up to stretch, not realizing how close he'd come to her. When she rose, her face was inches away from his hard chest.

“Hi,” he whispered, sinking down a bit so she could look at his face.

“Hi.” Her heat level rose at the proximity to his lips. “Have I thanked you today for staying over last night? I know I was bitchy about it, but it meant a lot.”

He didn't respond by doing anything other than smiling and lowering his head a fraction. Did he mean to kiss her? Why? Had he been feeling the heat all day the way she had? She opened her mouth to ask him these questions, but the second she did, he swept in and erased all questions from her mind. Thank God.

She tasted spicy and sweet all at the same time, like her personality. He couldn't believe he'd circled the desk and kissed her. He hadn't meant to, but she had stood there as if the weight of the world were on her shoulders, looking sad. Now that his lips were on hers, he recognized the inevitability of the kiss. The attraction had flickered into life the moment he'd stepped into her gallery last evening, and no amount of water was going to squelch it.

All her earlier spoiled brat behaviors were wiped away by the stunning vulnerability etched deeply on her. Arianna hid it well, but deep inside she was screaming for comfort, for love. It had been a compelling need to go cheer her up and wipe the frown off her face.

Lance wrapped his arms around her and scooped her closer to his body, all while nibbling on her lips. When she moaned and softened into him, he deepened the kiss and slid his tongue against her. He half expected Ari to bite him, because she was like a puppy sometimes—all playful, not knowing her own strength. She acted unaware of her power over him, how with one shake of her hips or toss of her hair he was panting and aching to touch her.

He deepened the kiss, praying she was as affected as he was. For his part, he wanted to turn, toss her on the desk, and spend the rest of the day exploring her soft, delicious skin and sexy curves. A little moan escaped Ari, pleasing him to no end. Here was a girl who left a drooling puddle of stunned men in her path, and if he wasn't careful, he'd be one of them. Lance had no intention of getting left in her stiletto-trodden path. When the time came, they'd separate like grown-ups, but for now he intended to enjoy every second with her. Even after the hired security guards showed up on Monday, he planned on checking in on Arianna. Maybe even taking her on another lunch date. Sans Nana, of course.

All thoughts of professionalism as a bodyguard fled when her hands slid under the hem of his shirt and lightly traced his abdominals up to his pecs. His stomach muscles and groin tightened in response. Hell, he'd prided himself on his control with women, but one positive response from Ari and he forgot everything else, forgot all the reasons why he and Ari were the last two people who should be sucking face. His job, her father, Ari's angry vandal, were all lost in the joy of finally touching her.

He scooped his hands under her curvy rear and pulled her to his aching hardness. She responded by subtly rubbing against him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. The feel of her body was branded onto him. The heat between them sizzled, and he wanted to explore every curve that pressed up against him. The taste of her was more delicious than their homemade lunch, and he'd forever remember the scent of her shampoo, or maybe it was the perfume he'd seen her dab on behind her ears. Either way, the combo of the two was a recipe for arousal. They remained locked together kissing for long moments until she froze in his arms.

“Lance.”

“Hmm.” He leaned in to bite her earlobe.

“Lance.” Her voice was more forceful and Lance's body became aware she was no longer playing catlike games rubbing against him.

He stepped back and attempted to look totally unaffected by passion. Not an easy feat when his cock was as hard as the wood desk behind him.

Ari stepped back and collapsed in her chair, putting her at eye level with his groin. He hastily moved to the chairs on the other side of the desk.

“Why…why did you kiss me?”

Play it cool here, Brown
. “You looked sad.”

“You kissed me, because I looked
sad
?” Her eyes narrowed.

Wrong answer. “Um—”

“Do you go around kissing all the sad women in the world?”

“No? No.” Shit, he was digging in deep here. How could he salvage this mini disaster and get her back to be willing to kiss him? Because kissing Arianna Rose was one of the hottest things he'd ever done. He was not living without more kisses from her.

“I'm not going to apologize for kissing you.”

“I'm not asking you to. I wanted to know
why
you kissed me.” She stared across the desk at him curiously.

He examined the back of her computer monitor as he debated what to tell her. “I don't know. You're not my usual type of woman.”

“Oh?”

Crap.
Think, Lance, think
.

“Out of curiosity, what is your usual type of woman?”

“Uh…I don't know.” Thin, waifish, bland women came to mind in comparison to Ari's fiery three-dimensional vivaciousness. “Thinner.”
Shit
. As soon as the word left his lips, he knew he'd blundered badly.

Fire danced in her eyes. “You think I'm fat?”

“Hell, no. I think you're perfect. Gorgeous. The other women are like cardboard compared to you.”

“Cardboard,” she repeated. Her arms folded ominously across her ample breasts.

“Yeah, flat and kind of the same. You know.”

“Actually, I don't.”

He struggled to put his explanation into words without insulting her further. When had he become such a clod? Around the office, he was known as the ladies' man. He sure wasn't showing it now. “The past few women I've dated all kinda looked the same. Black power suits, brown hair, and bodies so thin you'd think they never went to a Five Guys.”

Ari nodded. “I think I get it, and I think you need to stop dating women from K Street law offices and add some color into your life.”

He nodded in relief. “Definitely, and I know what color to add. Red.”

She smiled faintly and unfolded her arms back down to her sides. “Well, this redhead has to get back to work if I'm going have my show ready.”

“Tell me about it. Was that the invitation I was looking at before?”

She nodded. “You want to hear about my art show?”

“Yeah.” He loved hearing her talk in that throaty voice of hers.

“Okay then, I'll tell you about my art show.” A warmth entered her voice. “I had the idea for the Rose Gallery a few years ago. I'd spent some time in Europe after graduation and I fell in love with all the local artists showing in their local galleries. I wanted to replicate that here.”

“Here? Why not New York? Isn't most of the art world in New York?” He didn't know much about the art world, but he did know his mom went into the city on a yearly basis with her designer to pick out some work by a hot, new, must-have artist.

“New York is great, but there's a glut of galleries showing local work. I wanted to bring D.C. into the cutting-edge art scene, and it's working. There are some amazing local artists who are happy to have a place to show. My upcoming show will be sort of our second grand opening.”

“Second?”

“Yes, well, we opened officially two months ago, but in the beginning it was a little tricky to convince some of the artists to show here. They wanted New York or nothing.”

“And you changed their minds?”

“Yes.” Pride shone on her face. “That's why this show is important. I have a who's who in the art world coming to the event. A lot of careers and reputations could be made based on the reviews and sales that night.”

Hmm, his mom was sort of known for being a big art buyer. Maybe he could ask his sister to drag Mom down for the show if it would help Arianna. An appearance by Mrs. Susan Brown would make headlines in those society papers he ignored religiously. “Well, it seems like you're doing a great job. The work I saw downstairs is compelling and eye-catching.”

“Thanks,” she said with a laugh, not taking his uneducated art opinion seriously. “So you can see why there is much to be done.”

“Hint taken. I'll go back to standing out front like a good guard dog.” He turned to leave her office.

“Lance?”

“Yes?” He turned back to her.