Keeping Watch: Heart of the Night\Accidental Bodyguard (48 page)

“I worked mostly in tracking down rogue agents, and either exposing or neutralizing them.”

“Neutralizing?” He could hear the shock in her voice. Good. Remind her what kind of monster he could be. That should wipe out any feelings of lingering passion or pity she had for him.

“Darien Frye is an agent I was unable to neutralize.”

She lay there in silence for so long that Jonas was sure she’d drifted back off to sleep. But a tiny voice, muffled by her hand or pillow, finally spoke. “Jonas? I’m just a means to an end, aren’t I?”

If he was truly back in Watcher mode, he’d have let her question pass without a response. But something about the vulnerable beauty who had more guts than sense was working its way beneath his tough exterior and objectivity. He shouldn’t give a damn that she was worried or hurting or afraid. But he did.

He’d find a way to distance himself from her in the morning. But right now he
was
tired, and she didn’t deserve to think that he was using her just to get to Frye.

He reached across the bed and palmed her hip. She jerked at the unexpected touch and released her grip. This time, as she rolled into him, he caught her in his arms, blanket and all. Her token struggle lasted only a matter of seconds. “I thought the idea was to get some sleep,” he stated, using the logic of her earlier argument against her. “If you want me to rest, you’re gonna have to stop talking and be still.”

She had somehow propped herself up on one elbow atop his chest. It was too dark to see the color of her eyes, but he could hear the weary distress in her voice as she looked up at him. “But I promised to stay on my side of the bed.”

He brushed away the hair that had fallen across her brow. “I didn’t.”

“You should have asked first.”

“I know.” He waited a moment, surprised at how important the answer to his question would be. “Do you want me to let go?”

“No.” She burrowed into him, using his chest as a pillow and his bare stomach as an armrest. She settled quickly into a deep, quiet sleep.

Jonas followed soon after.

Chapter Seven

When the first ray of sunshine hit Jonas’s face, he blinked one eye open. For a few dreamy moments, he breathed in gently, warming to the fresh, unfamiliar scents on his wrinkled clothes and the bed that were not his own.

But then the coolness of the sheet draped across his stomach registered. His arms were empty. The bed was empty. Though it was no more than he deserved, the awareness of where he was and that he was alone careened through him like an out-of-control train, jolting him into another day.

Another reason not to like mornings. Faith was gone.

And it wasn’t just his arms that felt empty.

He rolled over quickly, squashing the feeling. He clutched the cold leather and steel beneath the pillow and visually verified the location of his knife and his roommate. He stood up fast enough to give himself a headache, plopped back down on the side of the bed and cursed.

“Good morning to you, too.”

The gentle ribbing in Faith’s voice from across the room managed to reassure and annoy him at the same time. At least she was safe. Good Lord, she was dressed, too. She wore a new pair of jeans and an aqua sweatshirt with the Teton National Park logo that would have been gorgeous with her golden hair. He blinked and looked again. He supposed it went all right with that bright coppery color. But it just wasn’t…

Jonas shook his head. With a hired gun after her, she might have to change more than her hair before this was over. And personal opinions on what he liked or didn’t like couldn’t get in the way. “Whatever.”

He must have done an adequate job of keeping her nightmares and waking doubts at bay since she’d cuddled close through most of the night. Who could see his face then? And the darkness blurred the true dimensions of his body.

But he was a scarier prospect in the bright light of day, and regrets or embarrassment must have had a pretty easy time taking over even Little Mary Sunshine’s best intentions. It was just past 7:00 a.m., but she clearly had no desire to linger in bed. Not with him there with her. He idly wondered if it was the face or the scar or the personality that had turned her off.

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and waited for the throbbing tension to fade. Once the worst of it had passed, he dragged his hand down across his rough, stubbly face.

Jonas stood more slowly this time, grabbing the knife and looping the holster over his shoulder. She sat in the chair at the far window, holding back the edge of the drape so that a long, narrow chunk of sunlight flooded the room. “What are you doing?”

“Watching the sunrise. You have pretty ones here in Wyoming.” She glanced over her shoulder, looking his way without looking at him. “I made some bologna sandwiches. It’s not breakfast at Tiffany’s, but it’s all we have. And it’s filling. I saved the last bottle of water for you.”

He scanned the desktop to the neatly made meal, resting on a washcloth-turned-placemat. He went over and grabbed the first sandwich, taking away a third of it in his first bite. “What’s your fascination with mornings?” he grumbled as he chewed. “Don’t you take it for granted the sun’s going to come up?”

“Not recently.” She was still peeking through the edge of the curtain. “I did the same thing for months after my parents died, too. I find it reassuring to see proof there’s going to be a new day.”

That was a little fatalistic, even for his morning mood. “What happened to your parents?”

She let the curtain fall back to the window. “Died in a car accident twelve years ago. I was only twelve,” she stated matter-of-factly. “It was a rainy night. They lost control on a bridge and plunged into the river below.”

“That’s tough.” Jonas cringed as soon as he said the words. He couldn’t come up with
I’m sorry
or
That must have hurt?
He’d better stick to keeping people safe and steer clear of the touchy-feely stuff.

But Faith turned and gave him a beautifully serene smile. “It was. Thanks.”

Jonas chomped another bite of the sandwich, unsure what to make of the inexplicable warmth coursing through him. But the good feeling didn’t last long.

He could see now that Faith held a small notebook and pen in her lap. She opened the book to a well-marked page, clicked her pen and prepared to write. “When you worked for The Watchers, how much were you paid per day? Or did you get paid by the job?”

“What?” Jonas stopped chewing and swallowed the food that had suddenly lost its flavor. “I’m not expecting you to pay me.”

“I’d like to know so I can keep track.” She jotted something in her notebook and then stared down at it. “I don’t want to confuse our working relationship with anything else.”

He tread cautiously around that one. “What other kind of relationship do you think we have?”

She stood up, crossed one arm around her waist and tapped the pen to her mouth. “Well, we did share a rather—” she cleared her throat “—exceptional kiss last night. I don’t know about you, but I think there’s some sort of…chemistry between us.”

Right. The explosive kind. The kind that made him forget who he was and think he could be something human again. He needed to crush that idea before she realized how on the money she was. “That kiss was a pretty woman and a horny guy and way too much tension in the room. It’s not a relationship.”

She pressed her lips together into a tight line, but wouldn’t let it drop. “I agree. We were running on frayed nerves and shared fears and not enough sleep. Our guards were down. And you said that wouldn’t happen again.”

“I meant it.” He didn’t like it, but that’s how it had to be. Hands-off. No contact beyond what was necessary for the job.

Faith might be young, but she was no dummy. She called him on the corner he’d just painted himself into. “So then you hold me through the night. How is that different?”

He glared at her for several long heartbeats. But it wasn’t exactly temper that was brewing inside him. “That was practical. We both needed our rest.”

“It didn’t feel practical to me. You can be very gentle when you want to be. And when it’s wrapped up in all that strength, it’s kind of, well… It felt like you were taking care of me. And I’m grateful. I’ve never slept with a man that way before. I mean, I’ve
slept
with a man. Once. But he didn’t. I mean, we…it wasn’t—”

“I get the picture.” More than he wanted to, actually.

Her cheeks spotted a bright rosy color. She combed her fingers through her hair and cupped the side of her neck, working through her embarrassment while Jonas simmered with a blend of jealousy that she’d been with another man, and something much more territorial. A perverse male pride that she appreciated their night together, while that other jackass—who didn’t know what a special woman he’d had in his arms—had left her wanting.

He should tell her what it meant to him. The trust she’d shown him. How
normal
it felt to hold someone soft and warm throughout the night. How—

“But if it’s all part of the job, I want to make sure I’m paying you what you’re worth, so there won’t be any misunderstanding when this is all done.”

Sometimes, the worst part of his curse was in mistakenly thinking that it could somehow be lifted from him.

As reality crashed in around his softening feelings, he downed the last of the sandwich and stalked over to the sink. “You don’t have that kind of money,” he spat out bitterly.

He watched her reflection in the mirror follow right on his heels. “Then I will find some other way to pay you back.”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“I owe you my freedom.” She stopped beside him in the mirror. But she was looking up at him, not his reflection. “I owe you my life.”

Jonas turned and braced his hip on the counter, bringing his face a few inches closer to hers.

“So what are you offering as payment?” If she expected him to be crude and cutthroat about helping out a woman in need, then he’d be as crude as he could be. He brushed his knuckles beneath her chin and slid them along the smooth heat of her throat. “Another kiss, maybe?”

The color washed from her cheeks, but she didn’t move away. “I…I could do that.”

Damn, the woman had soft skin. Touching her like this made him think…made him wish… Hell. He steeled himself against betraying any tender feelings. “You’d do that to pay a debt?”

She nodded.

“How about a night in bed where we do more than sleep?” He ran his hand down between her breasts. Paused at her sharp intake of breath. Then took his sweet, deliberate time tracing the flat of her stomach. He circled the waist of her jeans, cupped her rump and pulled her into the vee of his legs. Every nerve ending in his body leaped to life at the suggestive contact, challenging him to seize what he could so easily take. He tortured himself by refusing to act on the impulse. “Is your life and your freedom worth that?”

She braced her hands, still clutching the pen and notepad, on his chest and tilted her guileless green eyes up at him. Her breath was but a husky whisper. “Is that what you want?”

Yes. He wanted her. He wanted that reckless determination and brave heart and beautiful body to be his completely.

But not like that. Never like that.

Or else he’d never be free of his curse.

Unable to sustain his temper or his resentment a moment longer, he turned her around, swatted her rump and sent her back into the main room. “Go. Pack your stuff while I grab a shower.” The coldest one he could stand.

“But Jonas—”

He couldn’t let her reason her way out of this one. “You’re right. We do need to set some ground rules regarding our relationship.”

He held up his hand when she would have interrupted. “I’m in charge. What I say goes. You are not a means to any end, you are part of the job. You don’t write another penny in that book of yours because you don’t owe me anything. And we don’t have any more deep, meaningful discussions like this one. Especially in the morning. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.”

H
E’D SAID IT ALL
without a single curse. Chastised and reassured her in one long breath. Her tough guy was mellowing. Or maybe he’d never been as tough as he claimed to be in the first place.

Faith didn’t understand the mix of emotions tumbling through her as she crouched in the dark behind Jonas outside the University of Wyoming’s engineering classroom and computer lab. But she did understand one thing. Jonas Beck was a good man, even if he refused to believe it. In a span of less than forty-eight hours, she’d been saved, comforted, protected and almost seduced by the big, bad beast of the mountain.

His bad-boy style and rock-hard body should have sent her running as far from him as possible. But the glimpses of wounded insecurity, fierce protectiveness and blatant desire that peeked through the cracks of his harsh exterior were stirring up some unexpected feelings of her own.

Jonas wasn’t as invulnerable as she’d first thought him to be. He could be hurt—by insults and ignorance. By failing to meet the lofty expectations for behavior he set for himself.

He could be hurt by her.

He liked her, she was sure of it. In a sexual way, at least. That torrid kiss, his wicked suggestion that she use her body to pay him for his protection, were definite clues.

Though she now understood he’d said those things to shock her, to prove his point about how little he needed from her—or anyone—she’d been tempted to consider his invitation. Not to repay any debt, but because she liked him, too. He was more raw, honed man than any she had ever seen before. And touching him, being touched by him—knowing he could channel every bit of his strength and passion and even tenderness onto the woman he was with—was a heady consideration.

She’d be a fool to give him her heart, though. He’d be a hard man to love. She likened him to a wounded warrior who had seen and survived unknown horrors. Back in civilized society, he could be trained to watch his mouth and mind his manners, but there was so much hurt inside him that she didn’t know if he could ever be completely healed.