The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones (15 page)

“Extraordinary.” Her voice was breathless.

“Me, too,” he mumbled.

“What?” Before he had to answer, she glanced up and winced. “They saw us, that's for sure.” She gave a little halfhearted wave.

Mike looked over his shoulder and saw the two women staring at them. When he smiled a greeting, they whispered to each other, then took off for the far end of the mall.

“It should take about an hour,” Cindy said. “Beth is going to have fifteen messages on my phone by the time we get back. And is she going to be mad.” She leaned against the bench. “Beth can keep a secret, so if you don't mind, I want to tell her the truth.”

“Fine, but if she asks if you saw me naked, be sure and tell her yes.”

“Should I tell her I was impressed?”

“You have to ask?”

Her laughter warmed him like summer sunshine. In that moment, he forgot that her children and their friends were eating ice cream not fifteen feet away. He forgot about the people shopping around them and the fact that Cindy wasn't for him. He wanted her. He could handle the need. What scared him was that he also wanted to
be
with her. It wasn't just about sex and he didn't know how to deal with that.

Lucky for both of them, Cindy wasn't the type to have a meaningless affair, because he had the feeling it
would
mean something and then where would he be?

A few minutes later, they made their way to the movies. Jonathan grumbled a few times about the cartoon, but he was soon engrossed in the story. The boy sat between Mike and Cindy, with Allison on Mike's other side. Probably better that way, Mike thought, knowing how the darkness would have tempted him.

When the evil trees closed in on the beautiful princess, Allison whimpered in fear. Without thinking, he gathered her up onto his lap. She buried her head in his shoulder and whispered for him to tell her when the scary part was over.

She was small and slight. As he held the child, he wondered how something so fragile could survive. She smelled of summer and strawberries. Her hands were sticky on his arms, but he didn't mind.

At last the princess made it out of danger. He whispered that it was safe to look. Allison twisted around to face the movie screen but she didn't slide off his lap and Mike found he didn't want to make her.

Further into the film, the princess kissed her prince. Jonathan groaned and covered his eyes. “Yuck,” he said quietly. “I hate this part.”

Mike chuckled, then looked at Cindy. She was smiling at him. He felt the connection, the circle of family. For the first time in his life, he was inside where it was warm.

* * *

Mike pitched the ball. The batter swung and missed. Jonathan called out for him to pay more attention to the ball.

Cindy stepped back from the window and reached for the pitcher of brewed tea. She poured the dark liquid into two glasses full of ice, then carried them both to the table.

Beth poured a package of artificial sweetener into hers, then took a sip. “How long does this game of pretend go on?”

“For as long as he's here. If everyone thinks we're a couple, Mike is safe.”

“I understand what Mike gets out of it, but what about you?”

“I'm doing it for Grace,” Cindy said, sitting down opposite her friend. “I owe her. And for Mike. He's a nice guy.”

“He's a little more than that.”

“I don't know what you mean.”

“Uh-huh, sure.”

Cindy didn't dare glance at Beth. She didn't want to see the knowing expression on her friend's face. Beth had brought up an interesting point. Why
was
Cindy helping Mike out?

She was doing it for the reasons she'd told Beth and for one other. She was doing it because she liked pretending it was real. She liked the closeness they shared, she liked him touching her and being able to touch him back. Being with him made her remember all the good parts about being married. Being with him made her feel alive. It was the safest way to get what she wanted. Mike was leaving. She knew that in advance. She wouldn't be foolish enough to give her heart away, so she wouldn't have to worry about getting it broken.

“So, have you seen him naked?” Beth asked teasingly.

Cindy had known the question was coming. She'd even prepared a witty answer. But instead of saying that, she slapped her hands down on the table. “Dammit, there's more to a relationship than sex.”

Beth stared at her, then took a sip of tea. “Honey, you're not falling for him, are you?”

She'd surprised herself with her outburst. “Of course not. That would be crazy. We're just friends. Mike is...”

“Handsome?” Beth offered helpfully.

“Well, yes.”

“Funny?”

She smiled. “Very.”

“Charming?”

“When he wants to be.”

“Single?”

“Obviously.” Cindy frowned. “What's your point?”

“I don't have one.” Beth folded the empty sweetener packet in half. “As long as you're sure you're not falling for him. It seems to me it would be very easy for this game of pretend to get out of hand.”

“I'm not going to let that happen,” Cindy said. “He's not my type.”

“In the two years you've been single, you haven't had one date. I don't think you're qualified to know what your type is.”

“Maybe not, but whatever my type is, Mike isn't it. The man can fit his belongings into two duffel bags. I want someone who's going to stick around. Someone stable. With roots.”

“You had that with Nelson, and he still left you.”

“Thanks for reminding me.”

Beth leaned forward. Her blue eyes darkened with sympathy. “You know what I'm saying. You thought Nelson would be a sure thing, and he wasn't. You assume Mike is wrong for you. Maybe he is wrong. And just maybe he's Mr. Right. You can handle this any way you like. But like I said, this game of pretending to have a relationship could get out of hand. What if you stop pretending, but he still thinks it's a game? I don't want you getting hurt.”

“That won't happen. I'd be crazy to fall for a guy like him.”

Beth stood up. “Sounds like you're trying to convince yourself more than me,” she said, then left.

Cindy sat at the kitchen table a long time. She thought about what her friend had said. It was a risk. She would be the first to admit that something about Mike got to her. It wasn't just his good looks. It was the way he took the time to be with her kids, and his kindness. Okay, and maybe it was the way he turned her on.

The back door opened. Five sweaty children and one sweaty adult spilled into the kitchen.

“We're thirsty,” Jonathan said.

She pulled out a pitcher of lemonade from the fridge as her son set out plastic glasses. Mike limped over to the kitchen table and sat down. “They're thirsty. I'm going to have a heart attack. Do you know how hot it is out there?”

The five boys collected their cups and started to leave. “You coming, Mike?” Jonathan asked.

“No,” he gasped, and leaned back in the chair. “I can't keep up.”

Jonathan laughed and closed the door behind him.

“You have to be careful in this heat,” Cindy told him, eyeing his damp T-shirt.

“I know. I still don't have my endurance. The leg is healing, but it's going to be a while.”

He took the glass she offered and downed the lemonade in three big gulps. As he handed it back to her, he grabbed the hem of his T-shirt and raised it to wipe his face. She had a brief glimpse of his hard, muscled belly and chest. His bare skin gleamed from sweat. She'd seen his chest several times while he'd been sick. She'd always admired it, but it was only recently that the sight of it sent her heart into overdrive. She supposed it was because when he was a patient, she'd thought of him as someone she had to take care of and now she thought of him as a man.

She poured him another glass of lemonade. “Did you have fun?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't sound so surprised.”

“I can't help it. I'm discovering a whole new species of humans. Kids are pretty cool.”

“Don't let them fool you,” she said. “They can be a real pain sometimes.”

“I know that.” He took a drink, then set the glass on the table.

“You'd be a good father,” she said, putting the now-empty pitcher in the sink.

She glanced at Mike. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head.

“You don't agree?” she asked.

“No. I would be pretty good being a part-time parent, but I doubt if I could be there for the long haul. Besides, I'm just a beat-up, scarred, slightly over-the-hill bodyguard. Who would want me?”

He took another drink and closed his eyes as if not really expecting an answer. Cindy thought about how he made her feel when he held her, and how good he was with the kids. She rinsed out the pitcher and started to make another batch of lemonade, all the while the answer to his question echoing silently inside her head.

Who would want a beat-up, scarred, slightly over-the-hill bodyguard? She might.

Chapter Nine

T
he crash of thunder echoed through the house. Mike sat upstairs in the game room, watching the bolts of lightning filling the sky. Rain pounded against the windows. According to the weather channel on television, the storm was going to be a bad one, lasting most of the afternoon. He stretched out on the sofa, propped his feet on the coffee table and prepared to enjoy the show.

The wound in this thigh had almost healed. He'd been working out regularly at the country club, but never on weekends. His strength was returning, although his endurance was going to take a little longer to reach one hundred percent. It was a slow process, but he was improving daily. That's what he'd come to Sugar Land to do.

He glanced at the clock above the entertainment center. It was late Saturday afternoon. He'd begun to measure his life in two-week increments. The beginning and ending of each time period was Jonathan and Allison spending the weekend with their father. They'd left that morning.

He didn't see them every day, but he still missed them when they were gone. At least every other day, they came over and invited him to play in the greenbelt or go to lunch or a movie with them. The invitations rarely came from Cindy and he wasn't sure if she liked his tagging along or not. She always seemed pleased to see him. If she'd been one of his usual women, he would have known exactly what she was thinking. If she'd been one of his usual women, he wouldn't have cared as much.

In the last few weeks, he'd begun depending on her less. The grocery store was no longer strange. He'd gotten used to everyone's knowing who he was. Since word had spread that he and Cindy were an item, the illicit invitations had slowed. He was grateful, but he sometimes wondered what would happen to Cindy when he was gone. Would everyone assume she'd been dumped? He hadn't thought that far ahead when he'd asked her to pretend to be involved with him. She hadn't mentioned it, but that didn't mean there weren't ramifications for her.

A bolt of lightning hit the ground close to the house. The instantaneous explosion of thunder shook the windows. He rose to his feet and walked downstairs. His limp was barely noticeable. He crossed the kitchen and stared out the window at Cindy's house. From this side he couldn't see anything but her fence and front yard. For all he knew, she was gone. Or entertaining.

He grimaced, not wanting to think about her being with another man. Why wouldn't she be? She was bright, pretty, sexy as hell. Unless all the single men in the area were blind, someone had to have noticed her.

With her pretending to be involved with him, he knew it was illogical to assume she had a man in her house, but once the thought was planted, he couldn't let it go. He wanted to walk over and find out, but he couldn't think of a good enough excuse.

Besides, it wasn't his business. She was just a friend, nothing more. What she did with her personal life was her business. And even if it were his business, he didn't want to get involved. Bad enough that he was already attached to her kids; he wasn't going to make it worse by becoming attached to the lady herself.

That decided, he opened the refrigerator. It was too early for dinner, but maybe he could figure out what he was going to have. He'd finished his stash of frozen dinners. He could go to the market again. Or maybe a movie. He needed to get out.

The next bolt of lightning didn't hit close to the house, nor was the accompanying thunder particularly loud, but even as the sound rumbled through the afternoon, the lights in the house faded and the air conditioner stopped.

He stood in the center of the kitchen waiting for the electricity to be restored. It often went out for a few seconds during storms. After two minutes, he figured it wasn't going to be coming back on anytime soon. Maybe he should go and make sure Cindy was all right.

It was, he acknowledged as he dashed through the rain, a flimsy excuse. Cindy had been surviving storms long before he arrived in town. But it was the best he could come up with under the circumstances. Admitting that he simply wanted to see her wasn't an option.

He ran across her lawn and down the driveway. Once under the protection of the breezeway, he slowed, then stopped in front of her back door and knocked.

“Come in,” she called.

He opened the door and stepped inside.

Her house was cool, dark and silent. There were no lights, no hum of the air conditioner or ceiling fans. “Where are you?” he asked.

“In the living room.”

He crossed the family room floor and entered the large open living area. The ceiling was two stories high, the windows nearly that tall. Outside, bushes and crepe myrtle trees swayed in the wind. Cindy was sitting in one corner of the sofa that faced the window. She'd pulled her knees up to her chest. Her shoulder-length hair was loose around her face.