Waiting For Wren (Book Five In The Bodyguards Of L.A. County Series) (12 page)

He sampled a bite of creamy mashed potatoes. “That’s us.”

She gaped as she stared at the simple man across from her. “
You’re
Campbell Suites?”

He shook his head. “My dad’s Campbell Suites. I’m a bodyguard.”

“But—this is—” She pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to digest this new development. If she’d ever been more shocked, she couldn’t remember. “I can’t believe this. You’re family has piles and piles of money and you live in that crap hole by the water?”

He shrugged. “I like my crap hole by the water.”

“Your family’s main home is in Monterey?”

“Yes.”

“Has your mother ever been inside your apartment?”

“No. She doesn’t get out of Monterey much.”

“That might be for the better. A shock like that could be unhealthy.”

He chuckled.

She smiled at the absurdity of it all. “So, why aren’t you a hotelier like your father?”

“That was the plan. Then things changed.”

“Like what?”

“I decided I wanted to become a cop instead.”

“From hotelier to justice seeker.”

He shrugged. “Something like that.”

His eyes were growing distant with every question she asked. He was closing up on her again. Why? Taking a risk, she reached out and touched his hand. “I’m not teasing you, Tucker. Criminal Justice is a very noble profession.”

He smiled. “We’re a noble breed. You just won’t date us.”

She wrinkled her nose and pulled back, caught in her own web of inconsistencies. Score one for Tucker. “Nope.”

He reached forward and snagged her hand. “There’s just one problem, Cooke.” The troubled look was gone from his eyes, and the mischief was back. “We’re out on a date right now.” He rubbed his thumb over her knuckles, and she swallowed as a spark of heat followed the trail.

“This isn’t a date.” She tried to free herself from his grip as he sent his thumb on another journey, but he held her still.

“No?”

“Absolutely not.”

“You’re dressed up—look good enough to eat, by the way; I’m dressed up, we’re drinking wine, candles are flickering while you stare into my eyes. Definitely a date, Cooke.”

She wiggled uncomfortably in her deep red, clinging sweater-dress as his long, slow strokes continued to drive her crazy. “Sorry to disappoint you. We have a working relationship—nothing more. I’m just not attracted to you,” she lied.

Shrugging, he shook his head. “You win some, you lose some.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but snapped it shut. He was baiting her and having a hell of a time doing so. She was quickly losing control of this evening. It was time to go. “I don’t know about you but I’m full.” She pushed back her mostly empty plate. “I’m ready whenever you are.” She glanced down at her hand, wanting him to let her go. His thumb alone was making her melt. What would the rest of him do?

“No cake?”

“Uh, no thanks. The fish and veggies were very filling.”

“Ice cream?”

“I doubt they have Death by Chocolate.”

“Probably not.” He held up his free hand, signaling the waiter.

Minutes later the heat puffed through the vents of the Jeep and the wipers batted away enormous flakes as they traveled down Main Street. Wren kept her hands in her lap, her fingers laced, afraid Tucker might try to touch her again. He packed a punch. Her skin still tingled from his last teasing assault.

He slowed and pulled up to a spot by the small general store. “I’ll be right back. Keep the doors locked.”

“Okay.”

Tucker hustled inside, tucking his chin into his thick jacket. The wind was picking up, along with the precipitation. She watched Tucker through the large panes of glass, studying him as he moved about, bringing his item to the counter. Her heart picked up its pace as he spoke to the cashier and grinned. That smile was as lethal as any weapon. She scrutinized his gorgeous face and powerful build, searching for
any
flaw. There was none to be found. He was beautiful—perfectly so. And beneath the cockiness and sarcasm lay a kind man with plenty of sweet spots. All in all, Tucker Campbell was a dangerous package. It was wise to remember that. She still struggled to wrap her mind around the staggering wealth he came from. He was so basic—not a stuck-up, entitled bone in his body. She admired him more because of it. He easily could have sat back and coasted in his father’s footsteps, but he’d paved his own path.

He gave the attendant a quick wave and pushed through the door.

Wren unlocked the driver’s side for him. “What’d’ya get?”

He handed her the small brown bag. “Needed some shaving cream.”

“Oh.” She loved his constant five o’clock shadow.

He buckled in and waited for an ebb in traffic, then reversed back on to Main Street. He stopped at the four-way intersection and took a left up the twisting mountain road.

Wren pulled her phone from her purse as Tucker slowly maneuvered the sharp, slippery curves. Dinner had been enjoyable and a much-needed break, but now she had to get back to work. There were probably a million voicemails waiting for her. She slid her finger across the screen and stared. No new messages. No waiting texts. Surprised, she shoved the cell away. Patrick must’ve actually taken her advice and put his feet up.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s just weird not being bombarded by calls.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

She wanted to, but the silence left her uneasy. Patrick was as obsessed with the business as she was. She grabbed her phone again, ready to give him a call, then put it away. Maybe he’d found himself a date—the new guy he met on the buying trip last week, perhaps. Patrick deserved a quiet night as much as she did.

Tucker pulled in the drive and stopped. “Brilliant. What the hell kind of plow job is that?” A good two feet of snow had been pushed up against the garage door.

“I guess they don’t know we’re staying here.”

“Yeah, but it’s the garage. Who
does
that?”

Shrugging, she shook her head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

He backed up and pulled closer to the front door. “I’ll have to call the company and get this figured out. I can’t have the vehicle sitting out. It’s not good for logistics.”

“You never know when we’ll have to make a speedy get away,” she teased.

He smiled. “I think we’re good here, but I like to be safe rather than sorry.” He turned off the ignition and killed the lights. “Looks like we’re going in this way tonight. Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Wait right here.” He snagged the bag from her lap, shoved it in his pocket, got out, came around to her side, and opened her door. “It’s getting slippery.” He offered his arm.

She was in heels, and the snow was piling up, yet she didn’t want to grab hold. She was still churned up over a simple slide of his thumb. “Thanks but I think I’m good.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She stepped out and slid. “
Crap!”

He grabbed her around the shoulders, pulling her against him, catching her before she went down.

She clung to him, gripping his powerful waist. They stared in each other’s eyes as their breath puffed out in white plumes.

“Wasn’t kidding. How about that arm?”

His cologne clogged her brain, and her gaze darted to his lips just inches from her own. “Uh.”

“It’s freezing out here, Cooke. Walk.”

She broke out of her trance and took a step toward the door. What was her problem? She’d never reacted to a man like this before. A few swipes of his fingers along her skin and he’d successfully tied her up in a ball of sexual knots.

He unlocked the door and she stepped inside, immediately untangling herself from his hold.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said in a rush as she unbuttoned her coat. “I should probably get back to work.” She needed to lose herself in the details of the Movenbeck install and pretend this whole evening never happened. Work would help her smooth out the worst of whatever it was Tucker was doing to her.

“Night’s not over yet.”

What did he mean by that? She narrowed her eyes as he put his jacket in the closet and walked to the fire, throwing more logs onto the sleepy embers.

“Wanna scoop us a couple bowls?”

“Huh?”

He tossed her the brown bag.

She caught the paper sack, peeked in, and couldn’t help but smile. “Death by Chocolate.”

“Gotta have it on your birthday.”

“I thought you said you bought shaving cream.”

“I didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”

How was she supposed to resist a man who made a special stop-off in crappy weather for her favorite ice cream? He kept throwing her off balance with his sweet gestures. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She held his gaze a moment, worried for the first time ever that her sheer determination to keep Tucker Campbell at arm’s length might not be enough. She had few defenses against a kind heart.

“You all right?”

“Uh, yes. I’m going to…do this…” She waved the bag and turned, rolling her eyes at herself on her way to the kitchen. “Get it together, Wren,” she muttered as she yanked two bowls from the cupboard.
Nothing
was happening here. She didn’t feel anything more for Tucker than a healthy dose of lust. She glanced through the open space separating the kitchen from the living room and huffed out a breath. Did he have to stand there like that, looking all gorgeous and vulnerable
while he stared into the fire?

She bit her lip as she fought the urge to walk to him and soothe away his sadness.
No. This isn’t happening
.
More determined than ever to remain unaffected, she scooped up a small serving of creamy chocolate for herself and a large helping for Tucker. They were friends—if that. And he was her bodyguard. She was
not
about to be the clichéd damsel who fell for her protector. The idea alone almost made her chuckle. Calmer, steadier, she put the container in the freezer and grabbed two spoons on her way to the sitting area. She would enjoy her birthday treat with some friendly conversation, then get back to work. The end. “Here you go.”

He gave her a small smile as he took the bowl and sat on the loveseat. “Thanks.”

Determined to show herself that Tucker was nothing more than another attractive man, she took the cushion next to him. Heat radiated from the fire as she held the cold bowl in her hand and scooped up a bite of rich chocolaty sin. “Mmm. This is the best flavor ever invented.”

“Pretty good,” he said over a mouthful, propping his legs on the coffee table and crossing his ankles.

She rested her head against the cushion as she relaxed further. She’d completely overreacted. She could handle sitting next to Tucker while they enjoyed their dessert. “Look at the snow. It’s really coming down.”

“They’re saying we should see a good foot-and-a-half by morning, maybe more.”

“It’s beautiful—peaceful. I’m rarely around snow, so this is nice.” She finished her helping and put her dish on the side table. Copying Tucker, she rested her feet on the table, crossing them at the ankle. “Thank you for tonight—for making my birthday special.”

He scraped up the last of his ice cream and set his bowl aside. “I wish I had a gift for you.”

“Dinner out and Death by Chocolate was perfect.”

“Wanna watch a movie?”

“I’m pretty content watching the snow.”

“Snow it is.” He settled his arms behind his head.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“I want to stay.”

She looked at him as firelight flickered across his face.

His eyes held hers, and she licked her lips as a surge of want flooded her veins. Who was she kidding? This wasn’t a good idea. Sitting here like this with the fire crackling and the snow falling and a gorgeous man inches away. She rushed to her feet. “I’m—I’m going to take care of the bowls.” She reached for hers, turned for his, and crashed into his chest. His hands snaked out, grabbing hold of her arms, steadying her. She cleared her throat. “Sorry.”

“No problem.” He held her gaze as he took the dish from her and set it on the table.

“I was going to put that in the dishwasher,” she said as her heart kicked into high gear.

“I’ll take care of it later.” He skimmed his knuckles along her cheek and took a step closer.

She knew she should walk away. She needed to, but she stayed where she was, breathing in his cologne, lost in his eyes, savoring his gentle touch, yearning as he moved in and captured her lips, slowly, tenderly.

She clutched his forearms in defense against the rush of heat catapulting through her stomach as he brought his hands to her cheeks, caressing, and changed the angle of the kiss. He urged her mouth open and his tongue slid against hers, teasing, tangling. She clung now, completely seduced by his bold flavor and skill. Her fingers moved along mounds of biceps and firm shoulders and rested against the smooth skin at the back of his neck. Moaning, she urged him to take them both deeper, but he eased away, still holding her face in his hands.

Wren blinked her eyes open, completely undone by a not-so-simple kiss. Her phone started to ring, disturbing the quiet, yet she made no attempt to answer as she stared at Tucker.

“Your cell’s ringing.”

“I know.” She reached down, grabbing it, and glanced at the readout. “It’s my brother.” She pressed ‘talk.’ “Hell—Hello.”

“Wren? Are you okay?”

She was anything but. “Yes.”

Tucker still held her close, stroking her skin, making it impossible to think. She stepped away, hoping to break whatever this power was he had over her.

“Ethan, can I call you back?”

“Sure. Kylee wants to talk to you.”

“Tell her to give me one second.” She disconnected and gripped her phone, still unsteady. What should she say? She couldn’t think with her heart pounding. “I’m going to go—I’m going to go to my room. I have to call Ethan back.”

“Okay. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you. For everything.” She turned and headed down the hall toward the safety of her room.

“Hey, Cooke.”

She stopped.

“Tonight was definitely a date.”

Staring straight ahead, she started walking again. She had a phone call to make, then she needed to sit down and think long and hard about this unexpected turn her trip to Utah was taking.