Beauty and the Bodyguard Read online

  “I will.”

  “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  Allie prided herself on the fact that she didn’t slam the door behind him. She wanted to, though. She certainly wanted to.

  Thoroughly disgruntled, she walked into the bedroom and kicked off her shoes. She started to toss the black bag on the chair, but halted in midswing. Making a face, she dug the beeper out and set it on the nightstand, between the phone and the little tin carousel. What a rotten end to a day that had begun with a slashing grin from Rafe and a promise of chila-somethings.

  After changing into her sleepshirt and scrubbing her face and teeth, she padded, barefoot, back into the bedroom. Her hand hovered over the phone for a few moments, then dropped. She and Rocky usually talked to each other every day. In true twin fashion, they didn’t really need to communicate so much as to simply link up with their other half.

  Tonight, though, Allie couldn’t quite bring herself to call her sister. Rocky would hear Allie’s simmering anger instantly. Worse, she’d pick up on her sister’s lingering jealousy and confusion. Like a lioness pouncing on her prey, she’d gleefully tear every detail of the evening out of her twin. She hadn’t had the least difficulty dragging out the details of that kiss.

  Allie wasn’t ready to talk about tonight, not even to Rocky. Especially not to Rocky. She needed time to sort out her confusion. She needed to understand just how Rafe Stone could irritate and distract and anger and fascinate her, all at the same time. How she could feel jealous of the smile he gave another woman, and ache for the kiss they’d both decided had been a mistake.

  Sighing, Allie wound the toy carousel. A Chopin polonaise filled the air as she switched off the light and slid under the covers.

  The buzz of the phone jerked her awake some time later. Groggy with sleep, she groped on the nightstand beside her bed. Her flailing hand knocked into the carousel. It tinkled once or twice, the small sounds almost lost as the phone buzzed again.

  With a muttered oath, Allie sat up and fumbled for the lamp switch. Shoving her hair out of her eyes with one hand, she snatched up the phone with the other.

  “Hello,” she mumbled, still half-asleep.

  A long, heavy silence drifted through the earpiece. Allie frowned, trying to gather her sleep-heavy senses.

  “Rocky? Is that you?”

  “No, Allison.”

  The slow, heavy whisper sent a wave of icy cold through Allie.

  “Did you make love to the camera today, Allison? The way you always do? The way I want to make love to you?”

  Allie’s first instinct was to slam the receiver down. At the last second, she curtailed it. Gripping the phone in a white-knuckled hand, she grabbed the beeper and squeezed it as hard as she could.

  Seven

  Allie was still sitting in the middle of the bed, the phone clutched in one hand and the beeper in the other, when Rafe came in low, a gun gripped in both hands. If the obscenities Allie had forced herself to listen to hadn’t already shaken her badly, her bodyguard’s dramatic entrance would have done the trick.

  In jeans and an unbuttoned shirt he’d obviously dragged on while on the run, he was all lean, coiled power, bare chest and cold blue steel. Allie shrank back as the gun in his hand swung in a short, deadly arc. He searched the shadows, then pinned her to the sheets with a narrowed stare.

  “What’s going on?” he asked tautly.

  Her hand shaking, Allie held up the instrument. The beep-beep-beep and recorded message advising that the receiver was off the hook sounded tinny in the taut stillness of the room.

  “It was…” She wiped her tongue around her lips. “It was him. I listened… I tried to keep him on, but…he hung up.”

  Rafe lowered his weapon and reached for the phone. She couldn’t seem to let go.

  “Come on, Allie,” he said gently. “Let me have it.”

  “I…” She stared helplessly at the instrument in her hand. “I, uh,…”

  Swearing, he set the gun on the nightstand. “It’s okay,” he murmured, unlocking her fingers. “It’s okay. I’m here. He can’t hurt you.”

  Shudders racked her, one after another. “He doesn’t want to hurt me. That’s what he said. Not…not unless he has to.”

  With another curse, Rafe pried the beeper out of her white-knuckled fist and tossed it onto the nightstand. Then he folded her into his arms.

  Trembling uncontrollably, Allie pressed herself against the hard wall of his bare chest. She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t give the pervert that satisfaction. But she couldn’t seem to stop shaking. She wrapped her arms around Rafe, wanting, needing, an anchor.

  He understood her need. Dragging her into his lap, he held her tight with an arm around her waist. His other hand cradled the back of her head. Her nose found the junction of his neck and shoulder, left accessible by the open shirt. With a sound that was half whimpering fear, half relief, she buried her face in his smooth, warm skin.

  He rocked her, as a father would a small child. “It’s okay, Allie. I’m here.”

  When he shifted a little, she clutched at him in panic.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her. “Not yet. I just want to call the hotel operator. Hang on, sweetheart.”

  Her hands twisting in his shirt, Allie clung to him as he reached for the phone.

  “Miss Fortune just received a call at this number. Can you tell me if it came through the hotel’s internal switchboard or from outside the resort?”

  His voice was a low rumble against her ear. Allie closed her eyes and tried to concentrate on the erratic thump of his heart against his chest wall instead of the awful pounding of her own.

  “Any way to tell if it was local or long-distance?”

  She felt, rather than heard, his little grunt of disappointment.

  “Yeah, well, thanks.”

  “They…they can’t tell where it came from?”

  “Only that it came from outside Rancho Tremayo.”

  “Great,” she muttered against his collarbone.

  His hand stroked her hair, strong and infinitely comforting. “You’ll have to tell me what he said.”

  Shudders rippled through her. “Not yet. Please. I can’t talk about it yet.”

  “When you’re ready, sweetheart.”

  Allie wasn’t sure she’d ever be ready. She didn’t want to think about, much less repeat, the phrases that promised to make an obscene, frightening assault out of something that should be…should be beautiful. And warm. And slowly, sensually invasive. Like the rhythm of Rafe’s heart against hers. The feel of his arms around her.

  Gradually her shudders gave way to intermittent shivers. Slowly his scent replaced the coppery taste of fear as the focus of her senses. His shirt had been lightly starched. His skin carried a hint of rumpled covers and the cool night. Where her breath warmed it, the supple surface grew moist. Allie felt a sudden, unexpected urge to touch the tip of her tongue to the crease in his neck. She was as surprised as Rafe when she gave in to the urge.

  The hand that had been stroking her hair went still. The muscles beneath her hands tensed. “Allie…”

  “I know, I know,” she murmured into his neck. “This isn’t smart. This is world-class dumb. Don’t worry, Rafe. I won’t kiss you again.”

  She licked him instead.

  Edging aside his shirt collar, she brushed her lips along the slope of his shoulder. Her tongue left a hot, wet trail across his collarbone. It amazed her that this simple exploratory act could lead to such explosive need. From a small taste came a desire to feast. Her mouth moved from his shoulder to his neck once more. Suddenly Allie understood the ageless lure of vampire fantasies.

  His pulse throbbed just beneath the surface of his skin. Hot, heavy, fast. Could she claim him forever if she bit him, just a little? Just a nip?

  This time it was Rafe who shuddered. When he would have pulled back, Allie curled her hands around his arms. Only then did she notice that his muscles had
gone granite-hard. He was so taut. His skin so hot. A heady sense of power rushed through her. She’d never dreamed she could bring him, and herself, to such heat with just her lips and her tongue and her teeth.

  Rafe couldn’t believe it, either. He willed himself not to pull her head back and savage the mouth that shot fire into him with every touch, every tiny nip. He’d never realized that the hollow between his shoulder and neck was such an erogenous zone. Or that a woman could almost push him past all restraints with just the whisper of her breath against his skin.

  His common sense told him to let her go. Now. Before he forgot she was his client. Forgot she’d just received a disgusting, possibly threatening call. One that needed to be documented before the details blurred in her mind.

  The feel of her soft body against his completely drowned out the voice of reason. Cursing himself for his lack of restraint, Rafe tightened his hold. Without the barrier of Spandex to separate them, her heat flowed into his. Desire rose in him, heavy and urgent. He shifted her on his lap to ease the sudden constriction in his jeans.

  Afterward, Allie was never quite sure how her nightshirt slipped down her shoulders. Or when Rafe’s hand worked inside the soft cotton. At the time, her only interest was the scrape of his palm against the undercurve of her breast. Her nipple tightened in anticipation of his touch. She twisted in his hold, wanting that contact desperately. When his fingers teased the aching peak, she gasped in pleasure.

  Wanting to give him pleasure in return, she slid her hand up his chest. Her fingers splayed through a light mat of springy hair. Smoothed across rounded pecs. Inched upward. Stilled when they encountered unexpected ridges.

  Through the searing heat of his skin, Rafe felt her fingers hesitate on his scars. That small, brief pause brought him back to reality as nothing else could have. Fighting his body’s driving need, he did what he should have done earlier. He eased her away from him.

  She glanced up in surprise, her breasts quivering from the sudden loss of contact. Rafe’s jaw locked so tight it ached when he saw the dark-tipped nipples he’d tugged and teased into stiff peaks. He dragged his gaze from the creamy breasts that fit so perfectly in his hand and met the confusion in her brown eyes.

  “We can’t do this, Allie. Not now.”

  The confusion in her eyes gave way to consternation.

  “Listen to me, sweetheart. You’re still shaking. You’re upset. You need time to calm down, to think about this.”

  Allie bit down on the sharp retort that what she needed, desperately, was his body on hers. It didn’t appear that she was going to get it. Her head whirling as much as her senses, she struggled to understand his withdrawal. He’d wanted her, as much as she wanted him, yet he’d pulled back. Again, damn him. Again.

  Stiffening, she reached for the edges of her nightshirt to cover herself. When she tried to wiggle off his lap, he held her in place a moment longer.

  “I wanted it, too,” he admitted, assessing her reaction with an accuracy that had Allie squirming in embarrassment. “I still do. But we have to talk.”

  The only thing that saved her from total humiliation was the hoarse edge to his voice.

  “I don’t really feel like talking right now,” she muttered.

  If pressed, she couldn’t have told him what she really felt like doing at this moment. It wavered somewhere between slinking away in abject embarrassment and slugging him.

  “You’ve got to tell me what the caller said,” Rafe insisted. “There might be something the police can use in his phrasing or his choice of words.”

  Knowing he was right didn’t make it any easier to comply. Especially not with his hard thighs under her bottom. Allie wiggled again, seeking release. This time he let her go. Tugging her sleepshirt down to cover her hips, she moved a few steps away. With her gaze fixed on a mauve-and-blue print of a Pueblo woman, she recited as much of the call as she could remember, stumbling a bit over the more disgusting phrases.

  Silence spun out for long moments after she finished. Then Rafe swore, viciously. Allie turned to find him stuffing his shirttail into his jeans.

  “I’ll sleep in the sitting room tonight. Will you be all right while I go back to my casita to get my gear?”

  No, she wouldn’t, but not for the reasons he thought. Allie suspected it would take her far longer to put the memory of his arms around her out of her mind tonight than it would the phone call.

  “You don’t have to sleep here. I’m all right.”

  “I want to be here if he calls again.”

  “He won’t,” Allie said flatly. “Not tonight, anyway.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He never does. Besides,” she added, her mouth curling in disgust, “he achieved the object of his call. He got off by frightening me. Only I’m not frightened anymore. I’m just mad.”

  And embarrassed. And confused. And more frustrated than she’d ever been in her life.

  Twice now, she’d melted all over this man. Twice now, he’d withdrawn. The next time, she swore, he wouldn’t pull away from her. The next time, Mr. In-Control Macho Man Stone wouldn’t know what hit him.

  Right now, though, she just wanted him out of her bedroom and out of her sight, before she made a fool of herself again by crying or swearing or otherwise letting him know he’d shaken her far more than her unwelcome caller ever could.

  “It’s late, Rafe,” she said with a lift of her chin. “I need to get some sleep, or I’ll have circles under my eyes tomorrow that even our new line of beauty products won’t disguise.”

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m sure.”

  He hesitated, frowning, then gave a reluctant nod. “All right. Call me if you need me.”

  Oh, she needed him, Allie thought. She needed him in a way she didn’t begin to understand. Unfortunately, he didn’t seem to need her to quite the same degree.

  She followed him into the sitting room and watched while he retrieved his key from the lock.

  “You sure you want to run in the morning?” he asked, still frowning. “Maybe you should sleep in.”

  “I refuse to let this pervert throw me off stride or off schedule. Damn straight I want to run.”

  The frown eased into a wry grin. “I was afraid you’d say that. Just remember, after our run you’re making your first acquaintance with chilaquiles.”

  “Right. The animal-vegetable-mineral dish.”

  Allie slid back into bed some moments later, completely drained. She’d run the gamut of emotions tonight, from anger at the resort manager and at Rafe to stark fear to stunning, soaring desire, bitter disappointment and embarrassment. Yet she found herself dwelling on a growing eagerness for a taste of something hot and spicy for breakfast.

  She didn’t get either her run or her first taste of the mysterious dish.

  She and Rafe had just begun their warm-up exercises the next morning when the phone rang. Allie froze with her left cheek halfway down to her right calf. Before she could even unbend, Rafe had moved into the bedroom. Holding the extension in his hand, he signaled her to answer the phone in the sitting room.

  Allie swallowed and picked up the receiver at the same instant Rafe did his. Before she had it halfway to her ear, Dom’s voice leaped out at her.

  “Have you seen this sunrise? It’s unbelievable. I want you outside in twenty minutes.”

  “Dom, I’m not dressed!”

  “I don’t need you dressed. Wear a goddamn sheet if you want. No, put on something black. I don’t care what. I just want your eyes. Move it, Allie.”

  She winced as he slammed the receiver down. Replacing hers with a bit more care, she gave Rafe a small, lopsided smile.

  “You’d better go grab a cup of coffee and some of those chila-whatevers while you can. If I’m not mistaken, all hell’s going to break loose around here in about ten minutes.”

  Sure enough, Xola and Stephanie and the rest of the prep crew descended on the casita within moments. Like Allie, they wer
e in varying states of undress. Unlike Allie, they weren’t happy about turning out to enjoy a spectacular New Mexico dawn. In a flurry of brushes and moisturizer pads and scathing remarks about photographers who demanded the impossible, they went to work.

  Twenty minutes later, Rafe propped a shoulder against an archway, sipped from a steaming cup of coffee and watched Avendez position Allie. Wrapped in a black cloak Xola had miraculously procured from some unspecified source, she stood with her face to the dark mountain peaks in the west. Behind her, blazing color pinwheeled across the eastern sky. It was the kind of sunrise only New Mexico could produce.

  The swirling, brilliant hues had to do with the altitude, Rafe had learned. The lowest point in New Mexico was over a thousand feet higher than the loftiest peak in the Ozarks. At this height, the air was so thin, so lacking in oxygen and carbon dioxide, that it offered little to diffuse or defract the light. Instead of glowing softly, streetlights became pinpoints of brilliance in the night. White buildings set against the dark green backdrop of ponderosa pines could be seen for thirty or more miles away. Sunrises and sunsets became awesome displays of reds and purples and golds, with slashes of turquoise thrown in.

  Reluctantly Rafe conceded that the agony this thin air caused him during his early-morning runs with Allie might be a small price to pay for something that could only be classified as one of the wonders of the natural world. The question yet to be answered in his mind, however, was why Avendez had been up so early to view this particular display.

  If he was up at five, had he also been up at two, when Allie’s call came in?

  It was a definite possibility. The man drove himself as hard as he drove everyone else. He locked himself away in his portable processing center for hours after each day’s shoot, harassing his assistants while they developed contact sheets and consulting with the art directors. He often went back to the center after his nightly review sessions with Allie to work.

  Rafe had checked out the processing unit during the first day’s shoot. The place was self-contained and Saturday-morning-inspection neat. Chemicals were stored in clearly marked containers and film supplies and equipment were locked away. A dark room took up the back half of the unit. The front half served as an office and design center, complete with several computers and, Rafe remembered suddenly, a phone.