“You’re trying to keep them from harming me, and got a tip . . . I’d say that was doing a good job . . . and for what it’s worth, I’ve definitely lost perspective, too.”
He shook his head. “No . . . I’m also supposed to guard your head— I assess the threat levels, make them go away, and keep you safe while you can continue to do what you’re used to doing.”
She took a delicate sip of tea but never took her eyes from his. “I’ve never had anyone guard my head . . . or ever want to. It feels good.” She rolled the warm teacup between her palms and then reached out and touched his face. “I bet you’ve never had anyone guard your head either.”
He stood very still, barely breathing, almost closing his eyes to the sensation of warmth that she’d sent through his cheek. “Never in my life,” he said in a hoarse murmur.
“Why don’t you go take a shower?”
They both stood together quietly, her hand on his cheek, the other balancing her cup of green tea. For a moment all he could do was swallow hard.
She inclined her head toward his duffel bag and suit bag on the floor. “It’s late, all the rest of the guards are in their rooms, catching some Zs . . . that’s what you’d be doing now, if the unfortunate incident hadn’t occurred.” Her fingers found the edge of his jaw and then traced his eyebrow. “You have to unwind and go to sleep, even if it’s on the couch . . . and get out of that suit you’ve been wearing for two days . . . and take off the gun.”
“All right,” he finally said, glad that his larynx had decided to work again. “But don’t open the door for anyone while I’m gone.”
“Where are you going?” She tilted her head ever so slightly but her expression was completely serious.
“You said to go take a shower.”
A half-smile pulled at her cheek. “There’s one in the other room, plus towels.”
He didn’t move, dared not blink, fearing that if he did he might awaken from this desert mirage.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly, needing to hear her say the words.
But rather than answer him she simply closed the gap between them and stared up, then took his mouth.
It was the gentlest of offerings, a porcelain teacup between them; her warm palm on his cheek. When she drew her lemon-honey sweetened mouth away from his, it left an ache. He turned his lips into the palm of her hand, kissing the center of it as his eyes slid closed.
“Go take a shower,” she murmured, slowly dragging her trembling fingers away from his face, but her body still brushed his, teased his, causing gooseflesh to pebble their skin.
“I won’t be long,” he said softly, slowly stepping back from her.
She didn’t move, didn’t blink, just took a very slow sip of her tea.
CHAPTER 8
A COLLAGE OF emotions pummeled his brain as the hard jet spray of the shower pummeled his skin. Desire, guilt, trepidation . . . as well as a few additional emotions that he wasn’t ready to name.
There was no doubt that he wanted this woman; Zachary looked down and winced. His body had a mind of its own and had quickly made that fact obvious to both of them. But there was still a matter of professional conduct— Lowell had trusted him with this job, and once again, Lowell had taken the weight.
Sobered by the thought, Zachary turned the water to cold and stood under the blast of it for thirty seconds before turning the shower off. Jesus H. Christ, he had to keep his mind on point. This was undoubtedly the toughest assignment he’d ever had. Mud, cold, sleep deprivation, danger . . . nothing had shredded his resolve like Anita Brown.
Shivering, he quickly toweled himself dry, and pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, and then went to the sink to roughly brush his teeth. He’d brought three suits with him, the one he’d just shed could go down to the hotel cleaning ser vice tonight. He had to keep his mind focused on logistics and not allow it to slip into the personal, into the areas of the forbidden.
Anita Brown was a client. Anita Brown was just feeling frightened . . . rightfully so. Like him, she was lonely— but for her, the mood would pass. Soon another well-heeled suitor would be on the red carpet escorting her somewhere. He needed to find out who’d gone after Lowell and who was trying successfully to scare his client.
Zachary set his jaw hard, looked in the mirror, and then shoved his toothbrush and toothpaste into his sweatpants pocket. Yeah . . . he needed to keep it real and not mess up the only permanent thing he had in his life— Lowell, Anne Marie, and his godsons. The last thing he needed to do was to sleep with that gorgeous woman in the other room.
Balling up his discarded clothes, he tucked them under his arm and opened the bathroom door. Anita was in the bed, curled up like a sleeping baby. He turned off the bathroom light and crept into the adjacent room to toss his dirty clothes in a plastic hotel cleaning bag and to unload his toiletries into his duffel, then came back to gently pull the covers over her.
Zachary stood in the doorway for a moment, just watching her draw in and out slow, peaceful inhalations and exhalations. In the semidarkness the light played across her soft cheek and long pretty eyelashes. To him she seemed like an angel, to hell with what the tabloids or anybody else said. He gently shut the door behind him and sat down on the sofa, staring at his gun on the coffee table, wishing like hell he didn’t need to carry one around her.
HER INTERNAL CLOCK was all screwed up, and she sat up in the dark trying to remember what city she was in, what country she was in, what concert she was doing— panic tore through her until she looked at the clock radio and realized that she hadn’t overslept a show. Then it all came back slowly.
Anita stared at the perfectly smooth bed and the blanket that had been pulled over her. Quietly getting out of the bed, she went to the door, hoping that Zachary Mitchell was still there.
As she peeked through the door, she smiled. He hadn’t touched her, hadn’t woken her up, and was asleep sitting up on the sofa, head back, facing the door and his weapon. A true officer and a gentleman. For a moment, all she could do was stare at the handsome man who’d restored her belief in honor.