Loving the Bodyguard Read online

  Her first thought was to look for Michael, but he was obviously not in the bedroom. His clothes, which had littered the floor last night, were gone as well.

  He’d probably gotten up and dressed early. She pulled on her gown and then found a robe to put on over it, since Michael might not be the only one in the cabin this morning. She padded out barefoot into the living area to see Pete in the easy chair, reading a newspaper.

  “Good morning,” he said with a smile, putting down the paper.

  “Morning.” She returned his smile, but her eyes scanned the kitchen and living area, hoping to see Michael. He wasn’t there. “How is everything?”

  “Just fine. Your father asked if you’d call him when you woke up.”

  She nodded to acknowledge this piece of information and then went into the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee. As she sipped it, she walked from window to window, checking to see if Michael was outside somewhere but not wanting her search to be too obvious.

  She didn’t see him, but the property was big. Maybe he was taking care of something out of sight.

  She took her coffee into her bedroom to shower and dress. A half-hour later she reemerged and came out to get a second cup of coffee. Pete was still there, and Michael was still nowhere in sight.

  Unable to hold back the question, she asked casually, “Is Michael lurking about somewhere?”

  Pete looked vaguely surprised, as if she should have known. “Oh, no. He went down to the police station early.”

  “Oh.” She let out a breath of relief. Maybe he thought he’d be back before she woke up. “So he’ll be back soon then?”

  Pete shifted, slightly uncomfortable. He still looked a little surprised, like he’d assumed she would have known all this information. “I don’t think so. He decided to take a couple of weeks off, since we finally got this guy. He hasn’t had a vacation in years.” He offered that last comment almost gently, like a peace offering.

  “Oh.” Claire’s chest started to hurt. “Okay.”

  She went into the bedroom and checked the bed, nightstand, and dresser, looking for a note she might have missed. She picked up her phone and checked for messages, but there was nothing there.

  The pain in her chest was dropping to her stomach, but she went to check the kitchen and living room for a note—although she couldn’t imagine he would have left it there.

  But she also couldn’t imagine he would have left her without a word. After what they’d shared last night.

  She even pulled up her email, in case he’d wanted to compose a longer message. But there was no word of any kind from Michael.

  She sat on the bed, trying to think, trying not to overreact.

  But there was no way this could be good.

  Unable to process it yet, she called up her dad. He told her that he’d arranged for his personal lawyer to meet her at the police station that morning so she could explain the little she knew about the incidents of last night. He said that Roger and Pete would take her, since Michael was on vacation.

  He didn’t sound surprised or seem to think that Michael’s absence was strange.

  He asked if she would mind coming to his place later and spending a couple of days with him. He’d been worried about her. He didn’t say so, but she could tell.

  She told her father she’d be happy to stay at the house for a while, and then she hung up the phone.

  She checked her phone again, but still no message from Michael.

  Maybe he was planning to meet her at the police station.

  She didn’t share herself lightly or jump into anything without feeling safe. She’d been sure of Michael. She’d trusted him completely.

  She just couldn’t believe he would have left her like this.

  Still hoping things weren’t as they seemed, she went to the police station. Taking the report moved slowly so she was there for a couple of hours.

  Michael never made an appearance.

  Finally, she was on her way back to L.A., Roger driving the car and Pete in the front seat.

  Claire was alone in the back, and she hadn’t heard a word from Michael.

  He wasn’t a thoughtless or an insensitive man. He wouldn’t have done this to her without realizing how she would feel. He would know she’d expected to hear from him—hear something from him after last night. Which meant he was giving her a silent message.

  He’d taken a couple of weeks off so he wouldn’t have to see her or talk to her. To give her time to get over things.

  He was trying to let her down easy—to spare them both a painful conversation.

  It hurt so much she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t cry.

  It felt wrong. It just felt wrong. She couldn’t have been so mistaken. She didn’t know exactly what was between them, but their lovemaking last night had been real. Both of them had been real, not hiding anymore.

  She just couldn’t believe it had meant so little to him.

  On that thought, she dialed his number on her phone, which she’d been holding in one hand. She was shaking as she heard it ring, and she was also a little nauseated. She hated making calls, especially if she wasn’t sure whether the other person wanted to hear from her.

  She had no idea what she would say when Michael answered, but she knew she needed to try.

  It rang until it went to voice mail, and then she just hung up.

  An hour later, she tried to call him again. This time, it went immediately to voice mail.

  No more doubts or questions. Michael didn’t want to hear from her. Even if there had been an emergency with his mother, he still would have sent her a quick text.

  His silence was clearly the message.

  She felt painful sobs rising in her throat. For a moment, it hurt so much she couldn’t take a full breath.

  She’d tried so hard. She resisted the urge to hide. She’d shown him her true self, no matter how vulnerable it made her.

  And he just hadn’t wanted her.

  It was too much to handle on her own, no matter how much that was her instinct. Since she couldn’t talk to Michael, she called her dad.

  “Hi, pumpkin.”

  “Hi.” It was just the one word, and she thought it sounded normal enough.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” she lied.

  “What’s wrong? Did something happen at the station? Oscar said everything went fine.”

  “It was fine. Nothing’s wrong.” She had to swallow over the words in order to hold back the rising emotion.

  She couldn’t hold them back. Her shoulders shook and her face twisted as she released a few silent sobs.

  Her father was quiet for a minute. Then he said gently, “Please tell me what happened.”

  She tried desperately to compose herself. When she thought she had herself under control, she began, “It’s not that big a deal. It’s just that…Michael…”

  Saying his name was too terrible, admitting how foolish she’d been was too terrible. She couldn’t continue. She choked on a few more sobs.

  Her father didn’t push her. He just waited in silence until she’d stopped crying.

  But then she still couldn’t say anything. Talking was just too hard. Words could never embody her feelings, and they didn’t want to be spoken.

  “I’d never expect you to give me details about your personal life,” he said at last. “And I know it’s hard for you to share things that run deep. I know it might be easier if you had a mother you could talk to. But, if something has hurt you, you shouldn’t try to carry it alone.” He cleared his throat. “I’m your family, pumpkin. I’m the one you tell.”

  She fell apart completely, sobbing loudly, helplessly.

  It was still so hard for her to talk about it, but this was her father. He loved her invariably. He’d never left her. He’d never let her down. He’d never not answered when she called.

  “What happened with Michael?” her father asked. He must know she was now trying to tell him.

>   She was still crying, but she managed to choke out, “He didn’t…he didn’t want me.”

  He didn’t respond immediately. Just let her cry until she managed to pull herself together.

  Then he asked, almost mildly, “Okay, I’m going to ask you a question, and I promise it’s just because I want to help.”

  “I know,” she told him, wiping her eyes.

  “Because you’re so quiet, sometimes people don’t know what you’re thinking and feeling. They don’t understand that you just haven’t expressed it in words.” He paused for just a moment. “Are you sure he knows how you feel?”

  She dissolved again but didn’t totally lose it. “He does know. I was good. I was…I was brave. I really tried. I was brave.”

  “Oh, Claire, I’m so sorry.”

  She wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her father didn’t say anything for a minute or two. She knew he was thinking, trying to work things out in his mind, finding a way to fix what was absolutely unfixable.

  Finally, he said, “I’m not sure you have the real story.”

  “I really do, Dad. I don’t think I’m overreacting. He sent me a very clear message.”

  “I believe he sent you a message, but I don’t believe it means he doesn’t want you. That doesn’t sound right to me.”

  “You’re just saying that because you’re my dad.” His rationale in thinking that every man must be crazy about her touched her, though.

  “No, no. I mean, obviously no man in the world is good enough for you, but that’s not what I mean.”

  “What do you mean?” Despite everything she knew to be true, she couldn’t help but feel a little spark of hope.

  “I mean it doesn’t fit with what I know of Michael. I make a point of never getting involved in my staff’s personal lives, but I do accidentally notice things and am capable of putting details together into a reasoned conclusion.”

  She tightened a fist in her lap. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I’d believe he’s a stubborn bastard who’s too thick-skulled to take what he wants, and I’d believe you’ve muddled things a bit and your efforts to share your feelings weren’t quite as obvious as you think. But what I can’t believe is that he doesn’t want you.”

  Claire swallowed hard. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because I have eyes in my head and the man has worked for me for six years. I’ve actually felt bad for him sometimes in the last year or two, since he’s so completely gone on you and you’ve always been so oblivious.”

  “But, if that’s true, then why would he…why would he leave…”

  “I don’t know. Men are stupid a lot of the time. Michael’s always at the top of his game, so I’d imagine he can be stupider than most.”

  Her throat was aching again, but it was with bewildered hope rather than grief. “So you think maybe…maybe it’s not as bad as it seems?”

  “I really don’t know. Sometimes these things just don’t work out, even if both people want it to. All I’m saying is that the message you’ve gotten from him isn’t the whole story. It might be worth figuring out what the story really is.”

  “But he’s taking a vacation. And he won’t even answer my calls.”

  “I don’t expect it will be simple. Especially not for you.” He paused before he added, as if he had to consider whether he wanted to say it, “He’s never going to be an easy man, pumpkin.”

  “I know. I never wanted an easy man.”

  “Then be brave.”

  “I will.”

  When she hung up, she sat for a long time in silence, trying to figure out what to do, what Michael might have been thinking, and where he might be right now.

  She had an idea, but it terrified her. It would stretch her beyond the boundaries of her nature, making her more vulnerable than anything she’d done the night before.

  She would have to find someone who didn’t want to be found, approach someone who was hiding from her, express feelings that were far too deep to express.

  She took a shuddering breath and rolled down the window to the front seat. “Roger,” she said, leaning forward, “Can we make a stop before we go to my dad’s?”

  “Sure thing. Where are we going?”

  “Rivercrest. Same place as last night.”

  Pete gave her a quick look, but Roger didn’t even bat an eyelash. “Sure thing, miss.”

  She rolled up the window and tried to plan some things to say—assuming Michael was there at all.

  She was quite sure that was where he would be.

  Seven

  A half-hour later, when Roger pulled to a stop at the entrance of the nursing home, Claire was so terrified she was almost numb from it.

  Michael might reject her. To her face. He might break her heart after she laid it on the table.

  She was in a strange, blurred trance as she walked into the building and ascended to the fourth floor. She made it down the hall to the corner bedroom and saw the door was halfway open.

  She stood in the doorway and looked inside.

  Michael was there, just as she’d expected.

  His mother was in a recliner near the window, but she was stretched out and sound asleep.

  Michael sat beside her. He had his phone in his hand, but he wasn’t using it. His head rested on one of his hands, hiding his eyes. He looked like he was rubbing his temples, and even his shoulders were slumped.

  Claire suddenly knew her father was right. Whatever the reason Michael had left her without a word, it wasn’t because he wanted to.

  He looked battered.

  He dropped his hand from his forehead but didn’t look up. He held his phone in both hands and just stared at it.

  Her heart went out to him, and she was hit with an overwhelming urge to go comfort him.

  He was strong and solid and competent and professional. But he wasn’t unbreakable.

  He needed someone.

  He needed her.

  She was about to respond to the compulsion to walk over and put her arms around him—forgetting her nerves, forgetting everything she’d been afraid of just the minute before—but he looked up just then and saw her.

  He blinked for a second, obviously processing her appearance. Then he stood up with an awkward jerk.

  He strode toward her, his expression tightening. “What are you doing here?” Despite his low voice out of consideration for his sleeping mother, his tone was rough and almost angry.

  “I wanted to see you.”

  “Well, you can’t be here. You need to leave.”

  “I’m not going to leave. I need to talk to you.”

  Evidently realizing he wasn’t going to get rid of her, he took her arm and walked her into the hall. When someone passed by and glanced at them curiously, Michael looked around—obviously searching for somewhere more private to talk. He ended up pulling her into a large, cinnamon-scented hall bathroom.

  When he shut the door, he said, “So talk.”

  To anyone else, his face might have appeared detached and impassive, but she could see the exhaustion, the strain in so many different signs. She lifted her hand to cup his cheek tenderly. “Are you okay, Michael?”

  He swallowed so hard she could see it in his throat, and for just a moment he leaned into her hand. Then he said, “I’m fine. I thought you would have understood when I left this morning.”

  “I did understand what you were trying to say, but it was the wrong thing to say.”

  His brows drew together as he studied her face. “You’ve been crying.”

  She sucked in an outraged breath, briefly distracted from what she needed to say to him. “Of course, I’ve been crying, you big idiot. You left me this morning without a word.”

  His expression softened and he wiped the lingering trail of one tear with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Claire. I never wanted to hurt you.”

  “Well, you did hurt me, and I deserve to know why.” Her heart was racing a
gain, but no matter how hard this was for her to do, to face, she was now sure this was the right thing.

  He turned his head to the side and took a few breaths, obviously thinking or steeling himself for whatever he planned to tell her.

  She didn’t let him. She didn’t want to hear whatever he thought was best for her to hear.

  “You promised you’d never lie to me,” she murmured, her voice breaking as she remembered him saying that. Just yesterday morning.

  He cut his eyes back to her. “I’ve never lied to you.”

  “Yes, you have.” She shifted from foot to foot, forcing herself to hold his gaze, even though she was tempted to shut down for a few seconds. “You told me that, if I let someone see the real me, they would…they would adore me. You promised me it was true.”

  He just stared down at her, something coiled tensely inside him the way she’d seen in him before.

  “And I let you see me. For real.” It was so hard for her to say the words, despite everything. Her voice was cracked and breathless.

  He made a rough sound in his throat and rubbed his face with his big hand, looking away from her. “Damn it, Claire.”

  She knew he didn’t want her to say it, but she did anyway. “And you still left me.”

  “You’re going to make me spill it all, aren’t you?” He took one more thick breath and turned to meet her eyes. “Fine. I’ll give you everything. I didn’t lie to you, Claire. I do adore you. I adore you beyond all sense and reason. I’ve adored you for years, even though I knew I shouldn’t. I’ve always adored you, even though I knew you weren’t allowed. I can’t help it. I just can’t help it. I adore everything about you. I just adore you, Claire.”

  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected—maybe some sort of initial expression of interest. She certainly didn’t expect this, and the wave of feeling drowned her. It was too much. She hid her face in his chest and clutched at his shirt.

  His arms went around her automatically, tightening with strength and comfort she needed.

  “I just need a minute,” she managed to gasp, still unable to raise her head but afraid he would think she was withdrawing from him.

  “I know.”

  It was a less than a minute when she was able to straighten up, capable of meeting his eyes and speaking again. “If you feel that way, then why did you leave me this morning?”