The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones (17 page)

“Isn't that an interesting comment on the 'burbs? And here I thought we were so normal.”

She laughed. The corners of her eyes crinkled. The lightning had passed, but rain continued to splatter against the windows. The electricity hadn't come back on. The afternoon was still gray and dark, with the only light coming from the candles flickering on the coffee table.

“You're very beautiful,” he said without thinking.

Her laughter faded into a rueful smile. “I wish that were true.”

“Why would I lie?”

“Because you're a nice guy.”

“No one's ever accused me of that before.”

“You're nice to my kids and to me. You make me feel good about myself.” She tugged on her shorts. “Look at me. I didn't even put on makeup or get dressed up this morning, and Nelson actually came to the door. For the first time, I didn't care what he thought of me. I didn't mind that Hilari is four inches taller and twenty pounds lighter than I am. You're right. Nelson was a fool for leaving me. I probably should have figured that out a while ago, but I didn't until you mentioned it. I'm really grateful for that.”

“Funny, I don't want your gratitude.” She saw him as some damn do-gooder.

She straightened. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No. It's not you. It's just—hell...”

He reached forward and grabbed her upper arms. If she'd protested or resisted in the slightest, he would have let her go. But she watched mutely as he drew her closer. He lowered his mouth to hers. Her eyes fluttered closed and she breathed his name.

Even as he touched her lips, he told himself it was a mistake. He couldn't get involved with her or make promises. He didn't know how, and he refused to lie to her or lead her on. Which made kissing her a mistake. But when her arms came around the back of his neck, he knew he would pay whatever price this moment cost. She was worth it all.

Her mouth was soft and yielding. She tasted sweet. Still holding her arms, he shifted and lowered them both to the sofa. They pressed together from shoulder to knees, their legs tangled, their torsos brushing. Her arms held him close as if she feared he would escape. If he hadn't been so busy relearning every millimeter of her delicious mouth, he would have told her there was nowhere else he would rather be...except possibly in her bed.

Her fingers combed through his hair, sending shivers down his spine. He'd mentioned getting it cut, but she'd teased him about being afraid of looking normal. He loved the feel of her nails stroking his scalp and her palms massaging his neck. In that moment, he resolved to never cut his hair again.

As his mouth pressed against hers, he slipped his hands down her spine. He could feel her warm skin and the tempting fastener of her bra. He lingered there as if he could unhook it by will alone. She felt delicate and fragile against him. He could nearly span her back with a splayed hand. She was soft where he was hard, as if their bodies had been specifically designed for this moment.

She moaned impatiently, then squirmed against him. Her mouth parted. He tried to resist the temptation, touching his tongue to her lower lip before slipping inside. But her heat beckoned and he didn't have the strength to deny her or himself. He moved into her mouth.

The contrast of textures delighted him, her quivering response, the brush of her tongue against his, sent blood surging through his body before pooling in his groin. His erection flexed inside his shorts. She arched her hips toward him as if she'd felt it and wanted more.

He angled his head, seeking all of her mouth. They touched, moist heat to moist heat. Over and around, again and again, until his breathing was rapid and his body hot with longing. She moved her legs against his. Her smooth skin taunted him with images of her naked beneath him, her long legs wrapped around his hips as she drew him in fully. The picture was so real, the feeling so intense, he had to fight the need to explode right then.

He grabbed her hips and shifted, drawing her on top of him. She straddled him. Instantly, her feminine heat surrounded his groin. He caught his breath.

“That might have been a mistake,” he murmured against her mouth.

She laughed. “What
are
you hiding in your pocket?”

He kept his hands on her hips, urging her to rock against him. It was the sweet kind of torture. He grimaced, then stilled her.

“If you knew what you did to me,” he said.

She rocked once more. He sucked in a breath. “I have a fair idea,” she told him. Her smile faded. “You do the same. Every part of me is on fire.”

Her confession was nearly as arousing as her actions had been. He wrapped his arms around her back and drew her down until her breasts pressed against his chest. His mouth opened and she plunged inside, taking him as he'd taken her.

He moved his hands lower, down her back to the curve of her hips. Sliding up, he slipped his fingers under the hem of her shorts and touched the backs of her legs. The skin was silky smooth. She whimpered.

Closing his lips around her tongue, he suckled gently. Her thighs tightened. He moved his hands back up her hips and her waist, to her ribs. Still he held her captive in his mouth. Her pelvis began to move against his. He forced himself not to notice, then cupped her breasts.

She froze in place as if every part of her focused on his touch. She filled his hands. He could feel the tautness of her nipples through her shirt and bra. He circled his palms against the tight buds and made her shudder.

Even as his fingers learned her curves, he moved his head and kissed her jaw, her ear, then nibbled on her neck. Her breathing was rapid pants, but then so was his. His blood bubbled and boiled, his groin throbbed in time with the rapid cadence of his heart. It would have been easy to pull her shorts off and push his down. Too damn easy.

He moved her next to him, then turned on his side. One by one he unfastened the buttons on her shirt. She made it difficult by kissing his face and sticking her tongue in his ear. He laughed softly.

“I like to hear you laugh,” she murmured. “You don't do it enough.”

“You wear too many clothes.” He pulled her shirt free of her shorts and stared down at her lacy bra. Her full breasts strained against their confinement. He could see her pale skin and the deep rose of her nipples.

“Touch me,” she whispered.

Her green eyes were dark with desire, her mouth swollen from his kisses. He'd never seen anything so lovely in his life. He'd never wanted a woman as much. They were both adults. They knew what they were doing.

Even as his fingers touched her breast and his thumb traced her nipple, he knew he was lying. Cindy was reacting, not thinking. He would be willing to bet his next job that she hadn't been with a man since Nelson left. Mike wasn't sure he wanted that kind of responsibility.

“Yes,” she breathed as he rubbed the sensitive tip.

He also wasn't sure he could resist her. He wasn't anybody's idea of a hero. Why couldn't he just take what she offered and forget about the consequences? They'd never bothered him before.

“I want you,” he said.

Her eyes fluttered closed, and she arched her breasts toward him.

He reached behind her for the hook to her bra. As his fingers fumbled with the fastener, the electricity came back on.

Instantly, light flooded the room. The refrigerator began to hum and the air conditioner kicked in.

“Talk about getting a sign from above,” he said and drew his hand away.

She stared at him. “You're not stopping?”

“We both know I'm the wrong guy for you.”

“Of course, but...” She drew in a deep breath and let it go slowly. “I can't believe you're being sensible about this.”

He smiled regretfully and pushed up off the sofa. “I can't believe I am, either.” He held out his hand. She placed her fingers against his and he helped her to her feet.

Her hair was tousled, her face flushed. Worse, her shirt was open and he could see her perfect breasts. The painful throbbing in his groin reminded him he was going to regret this act of nobility for a long time.

“I'm sorry,” he said. “I had no right to start anything.”

“I don't know if you did or not. Isn't that interesting? I do know you're all wrong for me, so it really is best that we stopped.” She pulled the ends of her shirt together and started fastening the buttons. “I have a favor to ask. Could you please be a little less attractive next time? Maybe even act surly around me or the kids.”

“I'll do my best.”

She tucked her shirt into her shorts and glanced at him. “Still friends?”

The desire had faded from her eyes, leaving behind embarrassment. She was bluffing her way through. He hated that he'd made her self-conscious. “Always,” he promised. “Cindy, I'm really sorry.”

She held up a hand. “You have nothing to apologize for. It was bound to happen. We spend a lot of time together, we like each other. No big deal. I can handle this. Really.”

“Then I'll see you soon,” he said, walking toward the back door.

Her smile was tight. He wanted to say something, anything, to make her feel better, but he couldn't find the words. Soon he would be gone and she would forget him.

He wouldn't forget her, though. She was the first time he'd ever thought about staying.

Chapter Ten

C
indy sat at the kitchen table staring at her piles of coupons. Tomorrow was double-coupon day at the market, and she wanted to take advantage of the savings. But figuring out what on earth she could make with a half-price can of olives even though none of them really liked olives wasn't the challenge it used to be. She was distracted.

She leaned back in her chair and glanced out the kitchen window. She could see the greenbelt and her children playing. One of the fathers had built a playhouse. They couldn't leave it out all the time, but the family dragged it out on weekends. A herd of children was playing some elaborate game. The summer heat didn't seem to bother the kids. Cindy admired their endurance and their enthusiasm. She was barely getting by.

It was all Mike's fault.

She'd been doing fine until a week ago. Until a summer storm had brought him to her door. She'd been able to deal with her own ridiculous fantasies about him because she knew they were just daydreams without a chance of coming true. She'd had a crush on him, had even imagined what it would be like to make love with him. The fantasy had been wonderful. Unfortunately, the reality was even better.

Even thinking about his kisses or the feel of his hands on her skin made her tremble. She tried to tell herself she was reacting to the fact that she hadn't been with a man since before Nelson had left. And the last year of their marriage hadn't been very physical. So naturally she'd responded to the sexual advances of an attractive man she admired. But in her heart she knew it was more than that. When she and Nelson had made love, she'd been satisfied. Okay, maybe the earth didn't move, but she understood the workings of her body and she knew she'd achieved physical release. She enjoyed the process, but it hadn't haunted her.

She couldn't put those moments with Mike out of her mind. When she least expected them or wanted them to appear, the memories were there. Talking to friends, reading bedtime stories to her children, doing laundry. She would blink, and suddenly she could feel his strong hands on her body. Her breasts grew heavy, her thighs trembled and she was ready for him. Only he wasn't anywhere around.

What made it worse was that Mike was able to put the situation out of
his
mind. Not by a word or a look did he even hint at how close they'd come to crossing the line. After his initial apology, he hadn't said a word on the subject. Nor did he avoid her. He was friendly, considerate, great with her kids and exactly like a big brother to her. She couldn't ask for a better neighbor. She was getting everything she wanted; she should be thrilled.

So why couldn't she concentrate on her coupons? Why did she continually glance out the window hoping to catch a glimpse of Mike? He'd left on a jog just a few minutes ago. He wouldn't return for an hour. But she kept checking, hoping he would come back with a skinned knee or something that would require her services. What kind of person hoped someone would get injured just so she could be close to him and touch him for a few minutes? She was definitely messed up.

“Stop thinking about him,” she commanded herself.

It was good advice. Mike was going to get better and leave. As they'd both agreed, he was completely wrong for her. Bodyguards don't get off work every day at five. That's what she wanted. Someone stable, someone she could count on. There were no promises in life, but she wanted the next best alternative—she wanted a sure thing. Mike Blackburne was a wonderful man, but he didn't come with guarantees.

Before she could scold herself for continuing to think about him, the phone rang. She gratefully abandoned her coupons and picked up the receiver.

“Hello?”

“Cindy, it's Grace. Where's my big brother? He's not picking up at the house.” Like the last time Grace had called, the connection from Hong Kong was amazingly clear.

Cindy laughed and took the cordless receiver back to her seat at the table. “Mike is fine. He's out jogging.”

“Jogging? Is he nuts? It's got to be a million degrees there, now. It's July, for heaven's sake.”

“A million and ten degrees. He swears he's acclimating.” She glanced at the clock over the oven. “He just left, so he won't be back for about an hour.”

“Oh, no, he's trying to kill himself.”

“Grace, he's doing great. The reason he's gone so long is that he jogs really slow. I mean, Allison can run faster than him. The bullet wound is healing well, he's been working out, he's getting stronger. Your brother is fine.”

“Oh?” Grace's voice was questioning. “Fine as in healthy, or fine as in `what a fine specimen of a man'?”