Hero Under Cover

So why did Pete Taylor’s dark eyes seem to penetrate her dreams?

Because his presence was a pain in the butt, Annie decided. And as soon as the sun came up in Texas, she’d give Steven Marshall a call and get this bodyguard business straightened out once and for all.

Rolling out of bed, Annie tiredly pulled her pajama shirt over her head, then pushed her hair out of her face as she walked toward the bathroom.

Oh, Christmas, Taylor was sleeping on her floor.

She quickly covered herself with her flannel top, holding it against her body, slipping the fabric under her arms.

He was fast asleep, on some kind of thin sleeping bag with a blanket over him. He’d taken off his jacket and shirt, and even in repose, the hard muscles in his arms and shoulders stood out underneath his tanned skin. His face looked younger, softer, less fiercely controlled as he slept. Annie stared in fascination at the way his long dark eyelashes lay against his smooth cheeks.

He was a very good-looking man.

And he was leaving this morning, Annie reminded herself. So why the heck was she admiring his eyelashes? She should be angry with him—God, he’d broken into her room while she was sleeping. She wondered how long he’d stood watching her sleep. He had no right….

She reached out a toe to nudge him awake.

It happened so quickly. One moment she was standing up—the next she was on the floor, on her back, with Pete Taylor’s heavy body on top of her, his arm pressed up, hard, against her windpipe, cutting off her air.

Her first instinct was to fight, but he had her so thoroughly pinned down, she could do little more than wiggle against him. He was breathing hard, as if prepared to fight as he pulled his arm away from her throat. Gratefully, she sucked in a breath of air as he stared down at her.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said sternly, his eyes hard, his face harsh.

“Me?” Annie sputtered. “What did I do? I only woke you up. You’re the one who tackled me and nearly choked me to death. You’re the one who was asleep on my floor after I specifically told you I didn’t want you in here, pal.”

She glared up at him, straining against him, trying to get free.

Although he had taken off his shirt while he slept, he had kept his necklace on. Now it hung down between them, the pendant brushing her neck and shoulders and—

Oh, God, she’d dropped her pajama top.

Annie saw from the sudden flicker in his eyes that he realized it the same moment she did. His bare chest was against hers, skin against skin, hard against soft.

They both froze.

She could feel his heart beating against her. Or was it her own heart? Whoever’s heart it was, it was starting to beat faster.

“I think you’d better get off of me,” Annie whispered.

Silently Pete pulled back, sliding away from her. Man, she was beautiful, he thought, watching her grab for her pajama top and pull it over her head. Her breasts were soft and full, with large dark pink nipples that had hardened into firm buds at the tips.

Pete sat on his bedroll, leaning back against the wall, glad that he was wearing his jeans, that she couldn’t see how badly he wanted her. Man, what a way to start the morning.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she said, her cheeks faintly pink. “If that’s all right with you.”

“Yeah,” he said.

“Sure you don’t want to check the bathroom out first?” she asked, standing up and looking down at him, hands on her hips. “You never know—maybe there’s a bad guy hiding in the toilet tank.”

Pete stood up gracefully and walked past Annie into the bathroom.

“I was kidding,” Annie said, following him, trying not to stare at the rippling muscles in his back.

The bathroom was decorated in sea greens and blues. There was a claw-footed tub in one corner. Another corner held a large shower stall. The sink had a marble countertop, and it was cluttered with Annie’s makeup, lotions, soaps and shampoos.

There was a small window in the room, with frosted glass in the panes. Pete glanced at it, then tried the lock. It was secure.

He opened the door to the shower stall and looked inside.

“Oh, come on,” Annie scoffed. “The window was locked. How could someone have gotten into my shower?”

Pete looked at her levelly. “Last night the door to your bedroom was locked. That didn’t keep me from getting in. Hasn’t it occurred to you that if I could do it, someone else could, too?”

She stared at him. Well, actually, no, it hadn’t….

He went back into the bedroom. Annie followed him to the bathroom door and watched him roll up his blanket and sleeping bag. “If that’s the case,” she said, “why should I bother locking the door at all?”

Pete used a piece of string to tie the sleeping bag up. “Locks on doors and windows will keep most people out,” he said. He stood up then, folding his arms across his broad chest. “And as for the people determined to get in…That’s what I’m here for.”

“That’s very good,” Annie said. “You should write that down and use it on your business cards. Just the right amount of macho with a little superhero thrown in. I think it’ll sell. Unfortunately, I’m not interested in buying.”

She went back into the bathroom, not bothering to lock the door behind her.

THE WATER IN THE TEAKETTLE had just begun to boil when Pete came into the kitchen. His hair was still wet from his shower, and he’d changed into a plain black turtleneck that hugged his muscular chest and was tucked neatly into his jeans.

Annie poured steaming water on top of the tea bag in her mug. “I don’t have much to offer you in the way of breakfast,” she said apologetically. “I usually don’t do much more than eat some fruit myself, and even that’s running low—”

“I’m eating on Mr. Marshall’s expense account, remember?” Pete said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “But if it’s not any trouble, would you mind if I kept some supplies in your refrigerator?”

Annie leaned against the counter, holding her mug in both hands. “In theory, I don’t object,” she said. “But remember? After I talk to Marshall this morning, you’re going to be leaving.”

“No, I don’t think so,” he said.

“Well, I do think so,” she said.

“Sorry, you’re wrong,” Pete said, unperturbed. “Mr. Marshall is very anxious to avoid bad publicity. Did you know that he’s facing racketeering charges out in Dallas?”

“Steven Marshall?”

Pete nodded. “Call him if you want,” he said. “But I know he’s going to insist that I stay. If something happened to you, it would be very bad publicity for him.”

“But what about me?” Annie said, putting her mug on the counter. Her bangs were pulled back from her face with an Alice in Wonderland-like headband. She wore a bright white sweatshirt over her jeans, and a pair of black lace-up boots. She sat down at the table, across from Pete. “I don’t want a bodyguard. No offense, but…I like being alone.”

“I’ll try to stay out of your way,” he said. “You won’t even know I’m around.”

“Yes, I noticed how well you stayed out of my way this morning, particularly when you pinned me to the floor,” Annie said. “I can’t wait to see what the rest of the day brings. Maybe a little kick-boxing?”

She noticed that he didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed as she left the room.