The Bodyguard's Promise

She leaned down and pressed her lips against Gracie’s soft cheek, then turned and left her bedroom. As she headed downstairs to her office, she thought about the handsome stranger who had been brought into their lives.

She couldn’t help but admit that something about him was more physically appealing to her than any man had been for a very long time. On screen, it would be called chemistry; off screen, it was just irritating.

If there was any one place in the house where she felt most at home it was in her office just off the living room. The office was large and held not only her beautiful mahogany desk, but also a tasteful burgundy-and-gold love seat and a coffee table.

The walls were covered with framed photos. Some of them were of her when she’d first come to Hollywood and had worked as a model/actress. Others were of both her and Gracie from a shoot they’d done together for baby food, and the rest were of Gracie. They were a pictorial history of their work here in Hollywood that told a story of success.

Whenever Libby wasn’t with Gracie she could usually be found here in the office. From her chair at the desk she not only planned and negotiated Gracie’s next career move, but also kept detailed financial records and sifted through the social invitations to decide which events she and her daughter would and wouldn’t attend.

As she waited for Clay to join her, she tackled a stack of invitations that Maddie Walker, their secretary, had placed on her desk at some point during the day.

They were the usual mixed bag: dinner invitations, several charity events and a surprise birthday party for a director who had worked with Libby on her first film. That picture had been filmed years ago when Gracie was a baby and Libby had been focused on her own career rather than her daughter’s.

She tensed as she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. He came into the room, bigger than life and, thankfully, wearing a shirt. He carried the papers she’d given him and for a long moment he stood in the doorway of the room and gazed at the photos on the wall.

“You were an actress?” he finally asked.

She noded. “I came to Hollywood when Gracie was three months old. For the first two years of her life I did some modeling and acting.” She started to explain to him why she’d stopped working and how Gracie had been discovered, but then realized it was nothing he needed to know.

“Interesting,” he said. When he sat on the love seat he significantly dwarfed the overstuffed piece of furniture.

“Did you have a chance to look over the things I gave you?” she asked, wanting to get this little meeting over with as soon as possible.

“Very briefly. I notice that Gracie’s schedule is pretty hectic.” There was a hint of disapproval evident in his voice.

“Gracie loves what she’s doing and she manages the schedule just fine,” she replied coolly. How could a smalltown cowboy have any idea about the choices she’d made for her daughter, the choices Gracie made for herself?

“What about her father? You don’t have him listed anywhere. Where is he?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” she replied.

“So he’s not a presence in her life?”

She fought back a bitter laugh. “He wasn’t even a presence in the pregnancy.”

His green eyes narrowed in thought. “No chance he could be the one sending the letters? That maybe he disapproves of how Gracie is being raised.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the way Gracie is being raised,” she replied defensively. “But no, I can’t imagine Raymond sending those letters. If he were going to contact us at all it would probably be for money, not because of some long overdue fatherly concern.”

Even after all these years, just thinking about Raymond Willows caused a hard knot of anger and hurt to form in the center of her chest.

He’d been the one man she’d trusted, the one man who had said all the right things at a time when she’d desperately needed to hear them. And they’d been the empty promises of a young man who’d wanted nothing more than to get into her panties.

She dismissed thoughts of the past. The day she had packed her bags and left Middle Creek, Pennsylvania, she’d made a conscious decision to never look back.

“What about boyfriends or lovers of yours? I see you have none listed.”

She wasn’t sure why, but the heat of a blush warmed her cheeks. “That’s because at the current time there are none.”

His gaze held hers intently. “No close friends, no boyfriends or lovers. Sounds pretty lonely to me.”

“On the contrary, my life is too full for loneliness. Now, are there any other questions you have concerning the schedule or the list of people?”

He glanced back at the papers in his hand. “No, I guess that’s it for now, although I’m sure I’ll have plenty of other questions in the future.”

She picked up a small notepad that was next to the computer mouse and ripped off the top page. “Here is the code number and word for the house security system. And now we’re finished here,” she replied, hoping he’d take her words as a dismissal.

“Not quite.” He placed the papers on the love seat next to him and leaned back, looking every inch as if he belonged. “Now we need to talk about us.”

Chapter 3 (#u5e407e89-3312-598d-914d-5b41f649a731)

“Us?” Her big blue eyes widened in alarm. “What do you mean? There’s no us to discuss.”

“But there is,” he countered. “I mean, if I’m going to play the role of your latest boy-toy, then I think we need to get our stories straight.”

Again her features settled into the cool, ice princess look. “First of all, at thirty you’re far too old to be considered a boy-toy and at twenty-six years old I’m far too young to have a boy-toy.”

She’d apparently done some checking into his background to know his age. Twenty-six. Clay did a quick calculation in his head. So, she’d been eighteen when she’d had Gracie. He’d known she was young despite the fact that she had the self-confidence and cool presence of somebody older.

“A has-been at thirty,” he said dryly.

“Welcome to Hollywood,” she replied, equally as dry. “It’s the land of perpetual youth and make-believe.”

“If I’m going to be part of your make-believe world, then you have to give me some sort of script to follow. You mentioned earlier that we’d tell people we met at a charity function and we’ve been seeing each other ever since. But, the devil is in the details. Specifically, what kind of function was it and when exactly did it take place?”

She frowned and flipped through the pages of a calendar on her desktop. “It was a dinner for the advancement and research of childhood diseases and we attended it in the middle of June.”

“And one month later we’re living together?” He crooked an eyebrow upward.

A tight smile curved her lips. “In Hollywood a month is an eternity when it comes to personal relationships. In any case, that’s all anyone needs to know when it comes to you and me. I’m not given to sharing the personal details of my life with anyone.”

Why didn’t that surprise him? Something about her bugged him and he was rarely bugged by anyone. It intrigued him. She intrigued him. Her coolness, the slight edge of brittle defensiveness he felt emanating from her and the wall he sensed she kept erected between herself and anyone else definitely fascinated him.

He stood, deciding that it was time to call it a night. He was beyond exhausted and that was probably why she was getting to him in a way he didn’t quite understand.

She stood, as well. “It’s vital to me that nobody suspect that you’re anything but my boyfriend,” she said as they started to leave the office together.

As she stepped in front of him to exit the room first, he placed his hand at the small of her back. She stiffened, as if she found his touch abhorrent.

“I thought you said you’d been an actress. You’re going to have to be a better actress than that,” he said from behind her. “If you want people to think we’re a couple, then you’d better not tense up whenever I happen to touch you.”

She whirled around, a spark of anger flashing in her eyes. To his stunned surprise she coiled an arm around his neck, the anger instantly doused as she gazed lovingly into his eyes. “Don’t worry about my acting skills, darling.” She trailed a finger down the side of his face, a cool touch that shot an unexpected heat through his body. “That’s one thing I do very well.”

As quickly as she turned it on, she shut it off. She stepped away from him, the flash of anger back in her eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning.” She twirled on her heels and left him standing there.

Clay expelled an unsteady breath. She was lethal and he’d have to remember that she was good, very good. Good enough to have just earned herself a freaking Academy Award nomination for her little performance.

As he headed up the stairs to the bedroom he would call home for the duration of his stay, he wondered why she wasn’t working anymore. Had it just become easier to rest on her daughter’s laurels than to work herself?