Loving the Bodyguard Read online

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Deck stiffen.

  “Let’s go talk about this downstairs,” Jane said, grabbing Hal by the arm. She ushered him out the door and left Deck in her room, hunting for the rest of his clothes.

  She led Hal to the kitchen, where he promptly helped himself to a glass of wine from the bottle she’d left sitting out on the counter. He took a large swallow and heaved a dramatic sigh.

  “Feel better now,” Jane said, cocking her eyebrow.

  “It’s no double dirty vodka martini, but I need something to settle my nerves,” he said and set the glass aside. “My God, Jane, what were you thinking, sleeping with Deck?”

  Jane swallowed convulsively. “It wasn’t like I planned it. He showed up, right after I found out the news. I was upset—”

  “And you decided to make yourself feel better by fucking someone on your payroll?”

  Her face flooded with heat, the pleasurable afterglow fading. “You make it sound so tawdry—”

  “It is tawdry, Jane. You go and fuck your bodyguard the same day Katya Morgan breaks the news that she’s pregnant? Do you have any idea how trashy and pathetic you’ll look?”

  Denial bubbled in her chest. She wanted to tell Hal it was nothing like that. That she’d wanted Deck from the moment she’d met him, but she’d never given in, at first because she still loved Ryan and wanted her marriage to work, and later because Deck hadn’t shown even a flicker of attraction toward her and she wasn’t about to go throwing herself anywhere she wasn’t wanted.

  And, she admitted with a prickle of what felt an awful lot like shame, because of the very reasons Hal cited. Even though she was regarded as beautiful and highly desirable, a woman any straight man would kill to be with, there would be whispers.

  “I don’t see how anyone is going to find out about this. I certainly don’t plan on telling anyone.”

  “I don’t either, but what about Deck? Do you know how much the tabloids will pay for a story like this? Not to mention the cred he gets from shtupping America’s sweetheart.”

  Everything in her rejected that notion. “Deck would never sell me out—” She jumped at the sound of a throat clearing behind her and turned to see Deck. He was fully dressed now.

  Her stomach twisted at the hard, closed expression on his face. The way he was looking at her, it was like the last hour of her life hadn’t even happened. The smartest thing you can do is act like it didn’t.

  Her throat tightened as she accepted that truth. “You won’t tell anyone, will you?”

  His mouth flattened and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. “Of course not.”

  Jane winced at the coldness of his voice and realized she’d offended him. “Right, of course you wouldn’t,” Jane said, reaching out but stopping short of touching him.

  “I’m going to get going,” Deck said curtly.

  Jane nodded, knowing that was probably best. But there was no mistaking the tight set to his shoulders as he walked out. And there was no denying the tightness in her chest as Hal listed all the reasons why what happened with Deck could never happen again.

  ***

  Deck forced himself to back slowly out of his parking space instead of stomping on the gas and peeling out. That he saved for when he reached the bottom of her long driveway, where there was no way she and Hal would hear the roar of his four hundred twenty horsepower engine and the squeal of tires. He didn’t want to give Jane any clue that he was upset, any idea that what happened was as meaningless to him as it apparently was to her.

  Fucking the help. Hal’s coarse description burned in Deck’s gut. But it didn’t burn nearly as much as the fact that Jane hadn’t denied it.

  What did you expect her to do, asshole? Tell him that no, this wasn’t just a meaningless fuck to help her forget about the grief stirred up by Ryan’s announcement? That, despite the fact she’d always been careful to maintain a professional distance between the two of you, all this time she was as into you as you are into her and was just waiting for you to make a move?

  The truth was, in some naive corner of his mind, he’d actually been hoping that she would say exactly that. Which only made the humiliation burn hotter as he remembered the stricken look on her face when Hal had discovered them, followed by the palpable fear when faced with the prospect of their secret leaking to the press.

  You won’t say anything will you? Christ, he didn’t consider himself the least bit sensitive, but the genuine doubt in her voice was like a dagger in his chest. In all the years he’d worked for her, he’d seen sides of her life—with and without Ryan—that were nobody’s business but hers. When she and Ryan first split, he’d had celebrity rags offer him tens of thousands of dollars to give inside information.

  Even if he hadn’t signed a confidentiality agreement threatening major monetary damages, Deck still would have turned them down flat. He couldn’t say the same for a lot of people working for her at that time, including Hal himself.

  Yet Deck was the one she doubted, and even the look of shame after she’d asked the question, as if she realized what a low blow she’d delivered, wasn’t enough to ease the sting.

  After trusting him not just with her privacy but her very life for the better part of the last six years, in that split second Jane had truly doubted him. She’d really believed that Deck could walk out of that house, go straight to the press and crow about how he’d nailed Jane Bowden, the ultimate notch on any man’s bedpost.

  If she knew him at all, if he’d shown her anything, it was that he would never betray her trust.

  But it shouldn’t surprise him, how little she knew him. Though they were around each other often, there was a distance there. They talked, but Jane always pulled back before anything got too personal. Deck respected that and followed her lead. Then when he realized his feelings for his client were veering sharply into inappropriate territory, he doubled down on the professional stoicism.

  Still, moron that he was, when she’d turned to him today, let him take her in his arms, kiss her lips, he was ready to kick down the wall they’d mutually built between them and take their relationship to a whole new place.

  He suppose he couldn’t blame her after everything she’d been through, both for her lack of trust and her unwillingness to go public with her indiscretion with her bodyguard. He’d seen for himself the toll it took on her, having her life constantly dissected.

  Still, understanding it didn’t make him feel any less hurt, or any less of an idiot for getting his hopes up in the first place.

  He pulled onto the freeway, his hands tightening around the steering wheel, his frustration growing at the bumper to bumper traffic. He wanted to be home in front of his flat screen watching the Bronco game he’d DVR’d and dulling the edges with a cold beer. The last thing he needed was to be stuck in a car for an hour and a half with only his own thoughts to keep him company.

  He flipped on the radio and found the the post game report on a satellite station, but the announcer’s voice wasn’t enough to distract his brain from a different kind of play by play.

  Every second of the last couple hours unfolded in his head in excruciating detail. The scent of her, the familiar citrusy perfume he’d smelled a thousand times that became an intoxicant when it mingled with the unique fragrance of her skin. The taste of her mouth, the shock that had gone through him at the first brush of her lips, the first sweep of her tongue. For the first time since his teens he’d actually worried that he was going to come just from making out with a girl.

  And then her body, under him, the soft weight of her tits in his hands, the tight grip of her pussy as he drove deep inside. He shifted in his seat as his cock, undaunted by Jane’s rejection, strained against his fly. Deck rolled down the window, but the chilly January breeze was no match for the sizzling memories of Jane’s hands on his skin, the sound of her moans, the way her body gripped and pulsed around him as she came.

  Jane might want to pretend this never happened, but Deck knew that wou
ldn’t be possible, not for him anyway.

  By the time he finally pulled into his garage, he knew exactly what he needed to do.

  ***

  Jane checked her reflection for the dozenth time, her gaze flicking anxiously to the clock. Only three minutes until Deck was supposed to arrive to accompany her to tonight’s Screen Actors Guild Awards. Her stomach twisted in nervous knots at the prospect of seeing him for the first time since what she silently referred to as the great orgasm fest. Her body hummed with excitement - when wasn’t she excited to see Deck? - but apprehension too.

  She hated the awkward way things had ended up, and she knew Hal’s “fucking the help” comment had stung his pride. Still, Deck had worked with her long enough that she knew he would understand why they needed to keep things quiet for awhile, just until the buzz about Ryan blew over.

  She and Hal had come up with a strategy of how to handle the press in the first wave of scrutiny. Rather than jump publicly into a new relationship, which would show signs of desperation, Jane would show herself to be the epitome of the serene single woman. The fact that she was working with her production partner to write and produce her own sitcom, and was slated to begin principal photography on a film in Vancouver starting in April would give credence to her protests that she was way too busy with work to even think about dating.

  Meanwhile, no one—not even Hal—would have to know that she and Deck were quietly taking their relationship to the next level. And hopefully by the time she left for Canada, the furor over Katya’s baby bump would have passed, and she and Deck would be ready to announce to the world that he was more than a mere bodyguard.

  Of course, Hal had no idea she was adding this addendum to their strategy, and he’d probably clutch his heart and start shrieking “Holy Shitballs” if he did. But while Jane knew his instincts were right for the time being, there was no way she was giving up a chance to be with Deck.

  Not after she’d wanted it for so long, spent so many hours spinning fantasies of what it would be like to feel his huge, hard body driving into hers. But it was so much more than the sex she wanted. It was the feel of him pulling her into his arms to comfort her, flashing her that sexy smile that transformed his hard features.

  She couldn’t wait to fully let down her guard, to finally close the distance she’d been so careful to maintain between them for fear she’d slip up and reveal how she really felt about him.

  That night, with her emotions running so high, that guard had slipped. And though the timing couldn’t have been worse, she was grateful that it had. Because instead of pushing her away as she’d always feared, he’d let his own guard down enough to show her the passion raging beneath his cool, controlled surface.

  All of this, of course, assumed that Deck was interested in more than one meaningless fuck. The doorbell buzzed over the intercom and her heart leapt to her throat. Very soon she was going to get her answer.

  Hailey, her assistant bounced out of the armchair in Jane’s sitting room to go answer the door. “Wait.” Jane stopped her before she could open the door. “Are you sure this looks okay? It’s not too tight?”

  Mira had assured her that the form fitting red sheath emphasized all of the right curves, but Jane couldn’t help worrying that she’d take too deep a breath, maybe swallow an olive, and breach the constraints of her spanx. At which point all hell would break loose.

  Hailey, a delicately pretty brunette who had been Jane’s assistant for two years, eyed her from behind the lenses of her heavy framed glasses. “It’s a great color, and really shows off your legs.”

  “You think so?” Jane said making a half turn so she could see the backs of her legs, left on display by the dress’s skirt that ended mid-thigh. Would Deck like it, she wondered? In her head she could hear the rumble of his voice, telling her she had a gorgeous body as he ran his hands over her bare skin. The memory alone was enough to make her nipples tighten against the lace of her bra.

  “Absolutely.” Hailey nodded. “But you should be careful not to eat too much.”

  That shouldn’t be a problem, Jane thought as she gathered up her clutch and the matching wrap Mira had left to ward off the January chill. The butterflies in her stomach were flapping their wings a hundred miles an hour at the thought of Deck waiting downstairs.

  She walked down the steps, willing herself to breathe. She was more nervous now than she’d been the first time she presented at the Emmy’s, knowing millions of people would be watching.

  Still, she couldn’t suppress a smile when she heard Deck’s low-pitched voice coming from the entry way. Her smile dimmed when she passed through the archway and saw deck dressed in jeans, boots, and a wool sweater. “Deck, I know the SAGs are less formal than the Globes or the Oscars, but you should have at least thrown on a jacket.”

  Deck turned his attention to her, and the flat look in his amber gaze made goosebumps prickle up and down her bare arms and legs.

  “I’m not going. He is.”

  Jane had been so focused on Deck, she hadn’t registered the man standing a few feet away from him. It wasn’t like he was hard to miss either. Tall and broad-shouldered he had the same chiseled, hardened set to his features and military bearing she’d learned to recognize after spending so much time with Deck. Unlike Deck, the dark haired man wore a well-tailored gray suit.

  “Who is he?” Jane asked.

  “This is Scott Ramirez. He’s my replacement.

  “

  “For—for tonight?” she stammered.

  “Permanently,” Deck said curtly. “Ramirez will be handling your personal protection from now on.”

  “But I—” I want you, Jane thought desperately, but she wasn’t about to embarrass herself by admitting it out loud. Not in front of Hailey and some guy she didn’t even know. “I don’t even know him,” she said. “I haven’t interviewed him, I have no references,” she added, infusing her voice with at haughty tone. She didn’t pull out the entitled celebrity persona very often, but she’d use whatever it took to maintain her composure.

  “Tell Malcolm I’m not some d-lister—”

  “It wasn’t Malcolm’s decision,” Deck interrupted. “It was mine.”

  The admission hit her like a blow. She struggled to keep her balance in her four inch platform heels. “Can I talk to you in private?”

  “Of course,” Deck said, but she didn’t miss the resigned look on his face before she turned to walk down the hall to her study.

  “What’s going on, Deck?” she asked when he closed the door behind him and leaned against it.

  Leaning away from her.

  “What happened between us was highly inappropriate, a tremendous breech of professionalism.” Deck said, his voice void of any emotion.

  “A breech of professionalism?” Jane repeated helplessly. She wanted to yell and scream that no, it was amazing, potentially life-changing, nothing that could be described so coldly. A breech of professionalism. He made it sound like he’d spit on the sidewalk in front of her, or had too many cocktails while on the job.

  “Ross Securities has a strict no fraternization rule, and it’s no longer possible for me to work for you.”

  “So that’s it? We slept together and now you’re quitting?”

  “After what happened, Malcolm and I both decided it’s not appropriate for me to work with you. Ramirez has worked for the company for three years, and his client list includes people nearly as famous as you.”

  Jane nodded absently as Deck listed off the names of several actresses Ramirez had worked for. How funny to believe that just five minutes ago she’d been giddily apprehensive, wondering what he would think about all of her grand plans.

  If nothing else she had her answer and it was loud and clear. Jane had won numerous awards for acting, but she’d never given a performance like she gave that evening in her office. Hiding the fact that she was dying inside, writhing in an agony of humiliation that she’d actually let herself get so carried away as to think
Deck felt anything close to what she felt.

  So he’d fucked her. Most guys would when a halfway decent looking woman threw herself at him. Even with a few extra pounds and a few extra lines, Jane knew she was better than decent. God, she was so stupid, imagining there was anything there beyond Deck taking pity on her. Throwing her his bone in her moment of sadness.

  She was pathetic, just like all the magazines said.

  She was determined, though, that Deck would see none of this. Neither would anyone else. “While I’m not excited at the prospect of working with someone unfamiliar, I completely respect your position. I’m just sorry my poor judgment cost me such a valuable employee.”

  The muscles of his jaw tightened at that last word. She felt a petty stab of satisfaction.

  Deck gave a curt nod and opened the door, gesturing with his big callused arm for her to precede him. She felt exposed in her flashy, too tight dress, but instead of scurrying past, shoulders hunched, she lifted her chin, threw her shoulders back and sauntered past like she didn’t have a care in the world. In spite of everything, when she passed within a few inches of him, it took everything she had not to turn her face into his chest, not to spill the truth that to her it hadn’t been about just sex, or blocking out grief, or anything that shallow or meaningless. It had been the fulfillment of what she’d wanted from the moment she met him, and now that she’d had one taste she wanted so much more.

  She kept going down the hall, focusing on the sharp tap of her heels on the hardwood. She’d eat a pile of worms before she admitted any of this. She’d suffered enough rejection and public humiliation to last two lifetimes, thank you very much.

  If Deck was so hellbent on getting away from her, she wasn’t about to stop him.

  Four

  Three Months Later

  “You’ve been staring at that same page for five minutes,” The voice of Aria Shapiro, Jane’s production partner, penetrated the gray haze that had settled over her the night of the SAG awards and had only grown thicker in the ensuing months. “We’re supposed to have notes back to the writers by two.”