Beauty and the Bodyguard

“I will.”

She tried for a dignified exit, which wasn’t easy, with her French twist scraggling down her neck and her dress clinging to her thighs with every step. The walk up to the house seemed to take several lifetimes longer than the walk down to the lake.

Rafe followed at a more leisurely pace, his eyes on the slender figure ahead of him. He wondered if she had any idea of the way that wet handkerchief of a dress clung to her body, or what it did to his lungs. Rafe grimaced at the thought. Of course she did. Women like Allison Fortune were probably born knowing their impact on men.

All right, so her wide-spaced eyes, full mouth and endless limbs were the stuff of late-night fantasies. So he’d felt an immediate, gut-level urge to stroke his thumb across those impossible cheekbones when he first spotted her across the noisy room. Rafe possessed what he assumed was a normal testosterone level. Any man’s hands would itch to touch her skin, just to see if it was smooth and creamy as it looked.

Unfortunately, his initial reaction to Allison Fortune had been mild compared to the one Rafe experienced now. Watching her stride up the sloping lawn with an easy, long-legged grace detonated small implosions of heat, one right after another, just below his belt line. For all her almost boyish slenderness, the woman had a figure that would stop traffic on any street, in any city, on any continent.

Good thing she didn’t want him guarding that body, Rafe thought cynically, any more than he wanted the job. He didn’t need the staggering sum Jake Fortune had offered, nor did he need the kind of complications his involuntary reaction to Allison Fortune could cause. The reputation he’d earned in certain circles for his ability to penetrate seemingly impossible locations and extract hostages brought him more business than he could handle. He’d succeeded in that dark and dangerous world because of his ruthless ability to focus on his target. If he let himself get involved with the person behind that target, he’d lose the razor edge of concentration his work demanded.

Besides, Rafe had survived one disastrous experience with a beautiful woman, and he was a man who learned from his mistakes. His ex-wife wasn’t anywhere near Allie Fortune’s class in looks, of course, but her breathless baby-doll beauty had turned more than a few heads.

Phyllis had left him three years ago, when it became clear that no amount of surgery would erase the scars left by the bomb that had almost killed him and his client. Rafe had made it a point to steer clear of any entanglements ever since…which made him all the more wary of his instant animal attraction to the woman in front of him. With each step, his resolve to tell Jake Fortune to find another man hardened.

Among other things.

She reached the stairs that led to the terrace, and Rafe wondered idly if she intended to march into the brightly lit living room with her every curve on display. Probably. According to the dossier he’d had compiled on Allison Fortune, there weren’t many parts of her that hadn’t been captured in explicit detail on film and displayed to the eager public. Despite her huffy little speech to Eric the Blonde a few moments ago, this woman had made a career of playing games. When she draped herself across a rock on some mistswept shore, as she had in a full-page ad that had made Rafe break out in a cold sweat, she was trying for an effect. The ad might make the female half of the population want to run out and buy the tiny scrap of fabric the manufacturers called a bathing suit. The male half, Rafe among them, fantasized about sliding the straps down her arms and…

She halted abruptly, with one foot on the first stone step. Worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, she glanced up at the open French doors, then turned to Rafe.

“Would you go inside and find my father? Ask him to meet me in the library in fifteen minutes.”

Rafe had never been real good at taking orders, even during his years with Special Forces. In this instance, though, he was as anxious as Allie Fortune to terminate their association before it officially began.

“Yes, ma’am,” he drawled with exaggerated politeness.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are you this sarcastic with all your prospective clients?”

Silently acknowledging that he wanted to be a whole lot more than sarcastic with this particular prospective client, Rafe shook his head. How the hell could a simple collection of flesh and bone stir such atavistic male urges in him? He hadn’t felt this powerful an attraction for any woman since Phyllis. Hell, he hadn’t felt it for Phyllis.

“No, Miss Fortune. I’m not.”

Before she could respond to that one, he started up the broad stairs. His footsteps rang on the flagstones as he headed into the house, determined to tell Jake Fortune he wasn’t interested in the job.

Two

R afe soon discovered that Jake Fortune didn’t take no for an answer. For all his aristocratic airs, the man had the instincts of a street fighter. Tall, silver-haired, and impeccable in a gray Armani suit, he leaned his hips against the leather-topped desk that dominated the library, crossed his arms and cut right to the bottom line.

“I’ll double your retainer fee.”

Rafe regarded his would-be employer thoughtfully. He knew the value of his services, and felt no compunction about charging his clients according to their ability to pay. That Jake Fortune would double his initial offer without a qualm told Rafe there was more to this particular job than the client had admitted.

There always was, he thought cynically. He had the scars to prove it. Still, he didn’t need the money, and he sure as hell didn’t need to fan the small, hot flames Allie Fortune lit in him.

“It isn’t a matter of money,” he told her father. “My specialty is extraction under hostile conditions, not baby-sitting.”

Both men turned at the sound of a small laugh. A willowy blonde stood framed in a side door.

“It’s usually a matter of money where my husband is concerned, Mr. Stone.”

Annoyance flickered across Jake Fortune’s face before he wiped it clean of all expression. “In this instance, at least, you’re right. Come in, Erica. Perhaps you’ll be more successful than I’ve been in convincing Mr. Stone to provide Allie protection.”

When Erica Fortune walked into the oak-paneled room, Rafe detected traces of the daughter in the mother’s elegant carriage and cool, controlled grace. But the older woman’s stunning beauty seemed fragile, almost brittle.

The dossier on Allison Fortune included several pages about her parents, as well. A former beauty queen and the first model for Fortune Cosmetics, Erica Fortune had enjoyed what the media painted as a fairy-tale marriage to the founder’s son. Judging by the tension she brought into the library with her, Rafe wouldn’t have put a lot of credence in the happily-ever-after part. Whatever was causing the obvious stress between Erica Fortune and her husband, however, she put it aside in her daughter’s interest. Her green eyes softened as she pleaded with Rafe.

“Please reconsider, Mr. Stone. I don’t know how much my husband told you about these calls my daughter has received, but they worry us.”

“He mentioned that a fan got hold of her unlisted number and made some highly erotic remarks.”

“Erotic?” Erica sniffed. “They’re obscene. The man’s a pervert.”

“Until the police track him down, I agree it’s wise to provide your daughter with security, Mrs. Fortune. I just don’t think I’m the right man for the job.”

“Why not?”

Rafe tugged at his tie. He couldn’t exactly tell this woman that he didn’t want to spend two weeks with her daughter because she generated a few highly erotic thoughts in him, too.

“Look, Mrs. Fortune…”

“Erica, please.”

“Erica. I…”

A sharp rap on the massive double doors that led to the main hallway cut off Rafe’s reply. When Allison Fortune swept in a moment later, she cut off his air supply, as well. Irritated anew by her impact on him, Rafe stopped fiddling with his tie and shoved his hands in his pockets.

She was punctual, he had to give her that. True to her word, she’d taken less than fifteen minutes to change into a silky-looking pair of turquoise pajamas with one of those little Chinese collars and fancy embroidery. If her makeup had been disturbed by her dousing from the Nordic type she’d been stringing along down by the lake, she’d repaired it quickly enough. She looked untouched, and eminently untouchable.

Her glance flicked over Rafe, then settled on the older woman. A small frown marred the smooth perfection of her forehead. “I thought this bodyguard business was Jake’s idea. Did you know about it, too, Mother?”

Interesting, Rafe thought. She referred to her father by name, but not her mother.

“He told me about it when Mr. Stone showed up at the party tonight,” Erica replied.

“Oh? Well, he neglected to tell me.”

As his daughter turned to face him, Jake Fortune’s patrician features took on a hard edge. “You’re always so adamant about preserving your privacy, Allie. I knew you might object to having someone with you twenty-four hours a day. I thought it best not to discuss the matter with you until I ascertained Mr. Stone’s availability and finalized our arrangements.”

“You were right. I do object to Mr. Stone’s presence twenty-four hours a day. So you can unfinalize your arrangements.”

Rafe thought about setting them both straight. He hadn’t agreed to any arrangements, final or otherwise. But neither Fortune seemed particularly interested in his input at that moment.

“I’d like you to think about this. You know how important you are to—”

“Yes, I know. To Fortune Cosmetics.”

Jake’s mouth thinned. “I was going to say, how important you are to the entire family. I don’t like the idea of some obsessed fan worrying you and disrupting your life.”