“Yeah. That’s why I’ve gotta get out of this bed so I can feed my family.”
“I thought we were boys . . . best friends, man,” Zach said with a fake frown.
“We are— what are you talking about?”
“You have a gig with Queen B . . . you have the flu . . . and you can’t think of another soul who might be able to step in and give you an assist? Okay, man. I’m hurt, but I’ll let it slide.”
“Oh, hey, Zach . . . I thought you wouldn’t be interested and were just joking around. I know you said you’d go, but I really wasn’t going to impose on you after this morning. Besides I know how you hate chaos, plus I didn’t know your schedule. Hell, I didn’t even know you were stateside and available until we talked.”
“I’m on leave for six weeks.” Zach folded his arms and stared down at Lowell and then smiled. “And what did I tell you on the phone when you called me back this afternoon?”
“Anne Marie told you about the ten-day tour, didn’t she, asshole?” Lowell chuckled.
“That’s on a need-to-know basis, soldier,” Zach said, smiling wider.
“My wife probably poisoned me to keep me from going overseas alone with that fine babe anyway.”
“Wouldn’t blame her,” Zach said, chuckling. “So, let me take the weight.”
“If you do this, your cut—”
“Hey, hey . . . don’t insult me, all right?” Zach paced away from the bed. “I get an all-expenses-paid, first-class, backstage pass with Queen B and you want to pay me? Be serious.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot, this is a vacation in paradise for the consummate bachelor. But you’re giving up your leave and you’ll definitely be working. This chick is high maintenance—”
“Aren’t they all?”
“True, when you put it that way.” Lowell smiled and nodded toward the chair across the room. “Grab a seat; throw that phony leg on the floor. If you’re gonna do recognizance for me, then at least you need to know the basic terrain.” He cocked his head to the side with a wider grin. “By the way, brother, when are you gonna finally give up the lone-wolf routine and come to work with me?”
HE STOOD IN the large hallway in front of Anita Brown’s door with a suit bag slung over his shoulder, waiting. He’d called up in advance and the doorman had known to let him in. But this whole stalker business deeply concerned him. It could be an old boyfriend, disgruntled ex-employee, pissed off family member, or just a general regulation nutcase. There were so many variables that he didn’t like. Although he wouldn’t upset her tonight, if he was going to be her primary bodyguard during her tour, she’d have to sit down with him and revisit everything she’d given and told the police.
And if she didn’t open the door in the next thirty seconds . . .
“Well, hello,” her stylist said, looking him up and down. “I have your tux and I’m still working on ’Nita. Can’t rush beauty— but please come in.”
“Thank you, sir,” Zach said, remaining formal.
“Uhmmmph, uhmmmph, uhmmmph— and you’re her driver?”
“Yes, sir,” Zachary said, keeping everything in his tone strictly military as he followed the slender male into Anita’s apartment.
“Well, my name is Javier. That’s French, by way of Haiti,” he said over his shoulder with a smile. “Your things are in a guest room in the back.”
Zach followed him without a word and stepped into the empty room. As soon as he closed the door he heard Javier’s voice ring down the hall.
“Hurry up, ’Nita— GI Joe is here!”
A FULL TWENTY additional minutes had passed and he was determined not to pace. The endless windows gave him something to do as he looked out at the park and the little ant-like dots of people on the sidewalk. He ran the entrance and exit sequences through his mind that Lowell had given him, glad that there was a truck delivery entrance in back of the building as well as an underground lot so he could get Anita past all the fanfare that was beginning to gather at the front door.
But the moment her heels hit the hardwood floor, everything he’d been training his mind on evaporated. He turned away from the window and simply gaped.
She came out of the hallway clutching a small gold purse in her hands and was sheathed in a honey-brown fabric that looked like it was wet. He had no concept of how Javier did it, but he would definitely give the man due respect for his profession.
Anita’s hair was twisted up and held as if by long crystalline magic pins . . . her gorgeous face was dusted in shimmering gold and her lashes were thick and lush— eyes absolutely breathtaking. But her mouth . . . it held the same wet quality of her dress, and good Gawd, it seemed like she was poured into her gown as though she were liquid flesh herself. The deep plunging neckline made him need to check his pulse, and the slit that ran up the front of the gown exposed her shapely legs that seemed to go on forever.
“So, how do you like my creation?” Javier said, preening and gesturing toward Anita.
“Stunning.”