The Bodyguard & Ms Jones

“Why not?”

She smiled. As smiles went, it was a nice one, he thought, then knew for sure that a fever had kicked in. When did he bother noticing a woman’s smile?

“I’ve got two kids, Mike. I’m used to crankiness in the sickroom.”

“I’m not cranky.”

“You’re doing a fair imitation. I’ll make you a deal. If you’re strong enough to walk to the bedroom so you can lie down properly, I won’t make you go to the hospital.”

“Fair enough.” He thought about sitting up and wondered if he could do it. “Where’s the bedroom?”

“Lucky for you, it’s downstairs.”

“No problem. Give me a minute.”

He concentrated all his attention on his arms, willing them to be strong. After taking three deep breaths, he pushed himself into a sitting position. The room tilted and spun, but he didn’t dare close his eyes. Focusing on Cindy, who seemed to be moving slightly less than everything else, he began to rise. His thighs trembled, his knees refused to lock and he felt himself start to go down. At the last moment, he ducked left. The last thing he needed was to be impaled on that damn ceramic dragon.

* * *

Cindy thought Mike might actually make it to his feet. He was almost there, when he started to topple like a half-assembled tower from one of Jonathan’s games. She lunged forward, catching him before he fell. She grabbed him around the waist. His left arm encircled her shoulder.

It didn’t do any good. He outweighed her by about sixty pounds, and he was unconscious. It was like trying to hold up a large, male sack of flour. Her legs buckled, and she found herself pinned under him on the sofa.

His head rested on her chest, his right hand slipped between her thighs. His torso settled across her hips. She couldn’t move. The intimacy was almost as unsettling as the heat she felt from him. He had a fever.

“Mike?” she said.

He didn’t budge.

“Mike?” She shook him. Nothing. Not even a hint that he could hear her.

A strand of hair settled on her face. She blew it away and studied the situation. Her left foot barely touched the ground. If she could push off with that leg, she might be able to roll him a little and slide out from under him. Her right arm was caught between him and the sofa; her right leg bent awkwardly and was likewise captured.

She glanced at the dragon resting on the glass coffee table in front of the sofa. “You could help,” she said.

The dragon didn’t answer.

Cindy pushed and wiggled and only succeeded in pulling her shirt out of her waistband and bunching her shorts up around her rear.

“I’m not making progress here,” she said, then giggled. Who exactly was she talking to?

“Jonathan?” she called as loudly as she could. “Allison? Mommy needs your help.”

She figured the odds of her children hearing her were slim, but she had to try. She wasn’t sure how long they would wait before coming to investigate. If they got interested in a show on TV, it could be an hour or more.

“I can’t wait that long,” Cindy said. She wiggled to get free, and instead managed to wedge Mike’s hand tighter between her thighs. “If you knew how long it’s been since a man touched me there.” She giggled again. She had been reduced to talking to inanimate objects and unconscious men. “At least they’re not talking back. I do still have a slender hold on my sanity.”

The giggle turned into laughter. She again tried to push Mike off her, but she didn’t have any strength. She laughed until tears trickled down her temples and into her hair.

“I never have my camera with me when I should.”

Cindy turned toward the voice and saw Beth standing in the foyer. “Help me,” she said.

Beth raised her eyebrows as she took in the scene before her. “I understand about getting them a drink to relax them, but Cindy, honey, I think you went too far. And, if you’re going to have sex with a stranger, try to remember to close the front door.”

“But if he’s not a stranger, I can leave the door open?” Cindy shoved against Mike, but he didn’t budge. “Would you help me, please?”

Her friend sauntered across the room. She was slim, with dark red hair and brilliant blue eyes. She bent close. “He’s handsome. Does he have a name?”

“Mike Blackburne. Grace’s brother.”

“Oh, my. The bodyguard. Very nice. Grace didn’t mention he was so good-looking. I like that in a man.”

“Beth! I can’t breathe here.”

“Stop whining. I’m going to help.” Beth grabbed him by the shoulder and raised him slightly. At the same time, Cindy pushed off and managed to slide out from under him. She shimmied off the sofa and plopped onto the floor on her backside.

“He was so overcome by lust that he passed out?” Beth asked.

“I think it was the fever. He’s sick.”

“Most men are.”

Cindy shook her head. “No, I mean he’s ill. Grace told me he’d been shot and fell off a building. I spoke to his doctor’s office. He left the hospital too early. His doctor said he needs to take his medication and rest.”

Beth eyed him. “If you ask me, he needs a new line of work.”

“Help me get him to bed.”

“You’re going to keep him?”

“He’s not a puppy. I can’t send him back where he came from.”

“Take him to the hospital.”

Cindy looked at the unconscious man sprawled out on the sofa. The doctor had given her instructions on how to care for Mike. As long as she got his pills and some water down him, all he really needed was a little rest. He sure hadn’t wanted to go back to the hospital and she couldn’t blame him.

“I promised Grace I would look after him while he was here,” she said. “I owe her.”

“I’m sure she didn’t expect her brother to be so ill.”

“Probably not,” Cindy agreed. “But she’s already gone. I want to try and take care of Mike. If he gets worse, then I’ll take him over to the hospital.”

“Mike?” Beth raised her eyebrows. “You two have met?”

“Yes, before he passed out.”

“And is there a Mrs. Mike?”