Deep Focus (5 page)

Hold up. “
You
paid for the trip?” he asked, appalled. “What do you do for a living?” Not that it mattered. Ian made a ton of money, there was absolutely no reason he should have his girlfriend paying for his vacation. If they were both financially secure, sure, go halfsies, but Hunter was pretty goddamn sure that Melanie was not in the same income bracket.

“I’m a PR rep. It’s a good job, but it’s not enough to pay for two rooms in Cancún.” There were suddenly tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry. This is all such a disaster. I have no idea why Ian would do this to me. I’m starting to think he actually hates me.” Her bottom lip trembled. “I’ve never had anyone be downright mean to me before. What did I do to deserve this?”

Hunter opened his mouth to reassure her, but she just kept rolling.

“And I mean, this is so embarrassing. We’re holding up the line and I don’t know what to do.” She turned back to the clerk. “I’m sorry. We’ll just take the one room.” Then her head swiveled again back to him. “Unless you want to pay for another room and bill Ian?”

“Uh, no. I can’t afford another room either, and there’s no guarantee Ian will pony up.” He could barely afford his rent. “I think you’re stuck with me. But no worries, I don’t snore.”

She gave him a wan smile, then turned back to the desk clerk. “Okay, I guess we’ll make the best of it. I’m sorry for holding things up.”

He smiled at her and assured her it was not a problem. Hunter scanned the lobby, getting the feel for the resort, and listened to the clerk tell Melanie about the buffets, the pool and how to book her excursions if she hadn’t already. He was still just floored that Melanie had footed the bill. It made him more determined than ever to make sure she enjoyed her vacation. The lobby was open-air, and he had to admit, while he’d missed snow when he’d been deployed, he appreciated the warm air wafting over them from the ocean breeze. It smelled like salt water and relaxation.

When Melanie held up the key to show him, her lips pursed, he grabbed hold of both their suitcases and prepared to follow her. “I can sleep on the floor. I’m used to it.”

But she paused in lifting her sunglasses to her face and said, “Melly Ambrosia wouldn’t worry about sharing a king-size bed with her bodyguard. She wouldn’t think twice about it. So I’m okay with it if you are. No reason you should have to suffer because Ian is a jerkface. I promise I won’t kick you, and I don’t travel in my sleep.”

Fair enough. “If you’re sure you don’t mind. I can’t say I’ll turn down a mattress over the floor.”

He felt even more strongly about it when they reached the room and saw the wall-to-wall ceramic tile. That would hurt to sleep on, no doubt about it. She realized it, too.

“Uh, yeah, we can share the bed.” She tossed her purse onto the surface in question. “Jeez, frickin’ Louise, this is ridiculous! I want to strangle that man. Here we are in Cancún, two total strangers sharing a room, and why? Just why exactly?” She hauled her suitcase over to the luggage rack and viciously unzipped it. “I don’t know. That’s the answer to that question. I. Don’t. Know.”

She was fully entitled to have a meltdown, and frankly, she was showing a lot more restraint than he would have under the circumstances. “Maybe you should call Ian.”

“I don’t have an international data plan, and I’m not wasting another dime on that man.”

He couldn’t blame her for that. “Then screw Ian Bainbridge. You can pepper him with questions when you get back. But right now, let’s bust open the complimentary minibar and check out the veranda. Dolphin view, remember?” He had no idea what that meant, exactly, but clearly it was something she’d chosen when she’d booked the room.

Melanie took a deep breath and released it. “You’re right. You’re totally right.” She yanked off the sweater she was wearing, revealing a tank top underneath. “I’m burning up.”

So was he. He kicked off his dress shoes and unzipped his bag to find his sandals. “Feels good, doesn’t it? We’re supposed to get a blizzard in Chicago in two days, so you can take a bunch of beach selfies and post them online to make your friends jealous.”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took his socks off and wiggled his toes. He was unbuttoning his shirt when Melanie turned to respond to him. Her mouth fell open, then she quickly clapped it shut. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“Should I go into the bathroom to change my shirt?” He didn’t see the point, but it was her hotel room. She’d paid for it. He was still the employee, technically.

“No. Of course not. I mean, you’re going to be at the beach with me. I can handle seeing your chest.”

She sounded flustered. She looked flustered, running her hands through her hair.

That was promising.

But then she went over to the patio door and slid it open. “Oh! Hunter, there are dolphins out here!”

“On the veranda?” he asked, joking.

“No, you goof. In the water. Look.”

He took his shirt and his undershirt off and dutifully walked over to the open doorway. On the veranda were a hammock and two chairs. Beyond the railing was some sort of grotto, and yep, there were a couple of dolphins cruising around, doing what dolphins do.

“Very nice.”

“Aren’t they cute?” She moved across the patio and leaned over to take a closer look. Her bottom lifted up toward him in those tight jeans.

“Very cute.” He was definitely appreciating the view.

“Why do they slap the water with their tails?”

“I don’t know. But they must have a porpoise.” He moved up next to her as he deadpanned the worst pun ever.

“What?” She glanced over at him, her lips moving as she silently repeated what he had just said. “Oh, my God. Really? For a guy who looks so serious all the time, you crack an awful lot of jokes.”

“I’m multilayered.” Actually, it was a coping mechanism. The shrink he’d been ordered to see after his injury had told him that. It seemed to be working just fine for him, so he wasn’t going to bother making any changes.

“Why did you become a bodyguard?”

“Because I’m not qualified to do anything else.”

“Is that the only reason?”

He hesitated, resting his forearms on the railing and staring down at the rippling water. The dolphins were making clicking sounds in the background, and somewhere on the other side of the resort mariachi music was playing. “No. I wanted to protect people. Do something useful. Leaving the military made me feel as though I didn’t have a purpose anymore.”

“I can see that about you,” she said quietly. “So you think you’ll keep doing this line of work? Do you work for a firm?”

“Yes. I’m not good at paperwork.” It was true. He preferred action, and he hadn’t wanted to be bothered with starting up his own business or doing consulting work. It was easier to sign on with a security firm and be out in the field. He had expected it would give him the adrenaline rush he had experienced in the Marine Corps, but he had learned that the work was mostly monotonous.

The other thing he had discovered was that it opened him up to conversations with his clients. Or mostly, it opened him up to them telling him about their lives, while he played the listener the way he always had. His mother had always told him he had a face that made people confess all their sins, and honestly, he had no clue why. Maybe his silence was the only invitation they needed. Plus he didn’t judge. “It’s not what I expected,” he said honestly. “I was looking for more action.”

“I’m sort of a bummer of a client, then, aren’t I? You aren’t going to see much action with me. Zero action here.”

She had no idea what that particular phrasing did to him. It was a good thing only the dolphins could see that he was tenting his dress pants. “You never know. Sometimes there’s action when you least expect it.”

The dolphin snorted from his blowhole.

Damn right.

4

M
ELANIE
WOULD
SWEAR
she could smell Hunter’s skin. The sun was heating up his bare chest and arms, and he smelled earthy and raw, like a man. She had been trying desperately not to look at his chest, but she had failed miserably. She kept peeking over at him every thirty seconds or so. He looked even better than her imagination could have prepared her for. All hard and muscular and somehow not pasty white like she was, but golden, with a sprinkling of chest hair.

“I’m starving,” she blurted. “Can we go get a late lunch?” With all the movement of the day, the one thing she’d never done was eat. She was starting to feel light-headed, and it was only partially because Hunter was a hottie with his shirt off.

“Of course. We’re on your schedule, remember?”

She remembered, but it made her uncomfortable. She’d never had an employee in her life. She had always been the one taking orders, not giving them. It felt awkward to say the least. “Okay. I don’t need to change. I just want to grab something quick, like at the buffet. Then go to the pool. I’ll save the beach for the day after tomorrow.” She straightened up and moved back toward the door. “Tomorrow I scheduled the horseback riding. Are you sure you want to do that with me?”

“I’m doing it. Melly needs a bodyguard. I’m that guy.”

Of course. He was right on her heels. “You don’t have to, you know. I’m happy to let you off the hook, tell Ian you did your job and let him pay the bill. He deserves it.”

“But what if you really are in danger?” Hunter walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a T-shirt.

“I’m not in danger. If Savannah the Stalker was smart enough to figure out I was dating Ian when it was a secret, she’s smart enough to figure out he dumped me. I’m on a trip to Mexico without him—that should speak volumes.” She rooted around in her purse for some sunscreen and started slapping it on her face. Every time she talked about Ian, she got annoyed. “She is a pretty dedicated stalker, but seemingly nonviolent. She fancies herself in love with him.”

“I’d feel better just doing my job. What if she sees you as competition?”

“Why would she wait until after Ian dumped me to attack me, and a billion miles from home to boot? It’s totally illogical.”

“You may have a point. But just humor me, please.”

“Fine. But can we make a pact to not mention Ian or stalkers anymore? Unless it’s absolutely necessary? I’m over it.”

“I can tell.” He gave her a searching look. It was...sympathy.

That was the last thing on God’s green earth she wanted. A hot bodyguard feeling sorry for her. She was tempted to toss the bottle of sunscreen at him, but resisted. Not the kind to take her frustration out on the wrong person, she just zipped her lips and rubbed the lotion into her skin. “You know, you don’t have to look at me like that. Like the pathetic loser that you’re stuck with.”

“Hey, I’m sorry.” He gave her a different expression, as if he was purposefully trying to lighten the mood. “No sympathy here. None whatsoever. I just don’t know if I’m supposed to talk about it with you or not. You need a signal to let me know if I’m supposed to comment or not when you bring it up. I need a cue card.”

“Ha-ha.” From his point of view, she could see that he was standing in figurative quicksand, and the way he’d switched gears so easily made her relax a little. She could tell he was trying to make this whole debacle easier on her. “Okay, how about this?” She made an X with her arms over her chest. “I’ll just give you the universal sign for the buzzer when I catch myself talking about the thing I don’t want to talk about and don’t want you continuing to talk about it.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Will you please just get drunk and cry like everyone else on the day of a breakup?”

She laughed. “I already did that. Well, the crying. Shockingly, the vodka didn’t even give me a buzz.”

“Let’s fix that.”

Then he took his pants off.

What the...? Melanie gaped at him. He was just standing there casually in his tight boxer briefs, rooting around in his bag.

Her mouth watered. His butt was firm. She’d never seen a butt like that. “What are we fixing?” she asked, thoroughly confused. Her thoughts were scattered, and it had to be from lack of food. Not because she was three feet away from a six-foot-one muscle man in his underwear who she wasn’t allowed to touch.

Right? She wasn’t allowed to touch? Hunter certainly looked touchable, in all kinds of places. Touchable and suckable and...

He laughed. “Let’s feed you.”

Melanie felt her cheeks burn. She was ogling him. Just flat-out consuming him with her eyes, which was so out of line on every level. “Great, thanks. You might need pants, then.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to retract them. She shouldn’t be mentioning his lack of pants. She should be channeling Melly Ambrosia and be casually unconcerned with his state of undress. He was going to think she was neurotic and undersexed.

It was the truth, but he didn’t need to know that any more than he already did.

“I’m working on it.” He unfurled a pair of cargo shorts that had been rolled up into the size of a cannoli.

It was a welcome distraction. “Your packing skills are impressive.”

“Military talent.” He pulled on his shorts.

The bend gave her an even better view of all that he had to offer. She looked away, feeling guilty for objectifying her bodyguard. Then looked again.

She was hopeless. But she’d never been confronted with the reality of a hot man before. “I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue,” she said. “That’s my only talent.”

“Only talent?” His eyes darkened. “Somehow I doubt that.”

If air could crackle, the space between them would be doing it. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost think that Hunter was attracted to her. But maybe she was just projecting. “I suppose I have another talent or two. I can fit a whole banana in my mouth at once.”

Hunter’s fingers paused in the middle of zipping up his shorts. “Are you kidding me?”

“No.” She shook her head, realizing she sounded not only flirty, but downright dirty. That was a total accident. She really could deep throat a banana, but what was funny and cool at eight sounded utterly wrong at twenty-eight. “That sounds kind of sexual, though, doesn’t it? I didn’t mean it like that. Jeez, I need carbs.”

“Screw the carbs. I’m getting you a banana.” He shook his head. “Damn. That’s a visual I won’t be able to shake.”

Great. “Too freak show?” she asked, tucking their room key into her front pocket.

“Too sexy.” He stepped into his sandals. “Or did you forget that we have to share this bed tonight?”

Oh, she hadn’t forgotten. The last thing she could possibly do was forget that they would be sharing a bed. Granted, it was king-size. They could probably slide one of those dolphins into bed between them, it was so roomy, but nonetheless, it was just one bed. Under the covers. Together. Her and Marine Man and all his two thousand body parts.

“I’m sorry. Should I sleep on the floor, then?” Now, why in the hell did she say that?

“Why in the hell would you say that?” Hunter asked. “What kind of an asshole do you think I am that I would let you sleep on the tile floor while I take the king-size bed?” He was scowling at her, yanking open the door to the hallway so hard, it slammed into the wall.

“I didn’t mean to suggest you’re an asshole. I’m just embarrassed because I told you my only talent is deep throating.” Poor choice of wording. Her cheeks burned and her mouth went hot. She needed some protein. And carbs. And sugar. Anything to put in her mouth so she would stop talking.

Hunter groaned. “Oh, my God. I’m fighting to stay professional here.”

Wait just a minute. “I saw you in your underwear!” Did that constitute professionalism in his book? It did not in hers. She’d never once gone into Bainbridge Studios in her bra and panties. Though she had been diddling the boss on occasion. Huh. Maybe she didn’t have a leg to stand on.

They started down the hallway toward the large main restaurant that served an all-day buffet.

“Fair enough. Should I stop changing in front of you?”

As if. “No, of course not. I want you to feel comfortable.”

They looked at each other and started laughing. “This is weird,” she told him, amused.

“It’s been an odd day,” he agreed.

It had been. Hunter had woken up expecting the perk of leaving the deep-freeze weather behind, but not much else. Instead, he’d gotten Melanie, who was the most intriguing mix of uptight and sensual that he’d ever encountered. She didn’t seem to recognize how attractive she was, and she certainly didn’t know how much she was turning him on.

He didn’t think he was doing a great job of hiding it, but she was totally blind to his desire to push her against the nearest wall and kiss her senseless. But he’d live with the sexual frustration for now and feel her out a little further. In the restaurant he loaded up a full plate of food, then realized he couldn’t juggle it and his drink at the same time. His arm was throbbing from hauling the luggage around. The doctor had told him he should expect to have pain for upward of six months, and he hadn’t been kidding. Three months in, it still hurt like a mother when he was least expecting it.

Melanie was sitting at the table they’d been shown. He deposited his plate and asked her if she needed a drink.

“Maybe it’s time for a fruity drink like a rumrunner.”

“I don’t think they have those in here, but I can go to the bar.”

“Oh, no, never mind.” She waved her hand. “Sit down. I asked the waiter to bring us soft drinks. Is a regular cola okay?”

“Sure, that’s great. Thanks.” He joined her, sipping the ice water already on the table. “So have you been here before?” he asked.

“I’ve never been to Cancún, no. In fact, I’ve never been to Mexico.” She glanced around. “I like this inclusive package so far. It’s great not to have to worry about paying a bill or a tab. I grew up in a normal middle-class family, but we didn’t do vacations like this.”

“I didn’t, either. It was just me and my mom, and it was an expense she couldn’t afford. My father died in combat.”

Her face grew sympathetic. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” He didn’t say, “it’s okay,” because it hadn’t been. Not for his mother; not for him. But he’d dealt with it as a kid the best way he’d known how. “I was six years old, and I became the man of the house, in my eyes. Mom worked really hard as a waitress. Her hours were rough, but we made it work.”

“It doesn’t surprise me then that you grew up wanting to protect people. You started out wanting to take care of your mother.”

He studied her as she ate a burrito with a fork, thinking about what she’d said. “I guess to a certain extent, yes. But don’t give me too much credit. I was a little shit often enough to drive my mom crazy. How about you? I doubt you were a troublemaker.”

“Why do you keep assuming I’m such a good girl?” she asked, looking exasperated.

There was something so forthright and honest about Melanie. He couldn’t imagine her doing something devilish as a little girl. He couldn’t help but smile. “Just a feeling I have. It’s not a criticism. There’s nothing to brag about in being a brat.”

“I’m not boring,” she added, sounding mulish.

“No one said you were. I don’t find you boring.” He found her arousing, intriguing, sexy as hell. And sweet. There was something really revealing about the way she was handling Ian’s dickish move of that morning. She was showing a normal range of emotions, but she wasn’t ranting or screaming or crying in a way that was beyond reason. She was classy. While his mom was an amazing lady, she was also loud and brassy, and a fighter. She had thrown a brick at her boyfriend’s car when she’d discovered him cheating when Hunter was in middle school, and he had backed her up on it. Melanie didn’t seem like that type of woman at all.

“I find you fascinating,” he told her honestly. “I’m not sure why you’re not sending Bainbridge a slew of nasty text messages.”

“How do you know I’m not?”

“You haven’t touched your phone. I’m trained to notice these things, remember?”

“Do you ever get distracted?” she asked, tilting her head. She picked up the soft drink the waiter had brought for her and delicately flicked her tongue over the tip of the straw.

Uh, yes. He watched her slide her tongue seductively along that piece of plastic, like she might do to his cock under the right circumstances. “You’re changing the subject,” he told her. “And you can suck that straw all you want right before tying off a cherry and deep throating a banana, but I’m still going to press you about Ian. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

She made a face and set the drink down. Then she put her arms up in an X. “Nah. This is one of those times.”

He’d brought that one on himself. “Smart-ass.”

“Nope. I’m a good girl, remember?”

Hunter chewed his food and swallowed, washing it down with some water. He was ready for a beer, though he wasn’t going to have one since he was still on duty. “I do think you’re a good girl. But there’s a little bit of Melly in you, isn’t there?”

“I don’t know,” she said ruefully. “If there is, she never gets to come out.”

“Here’s your chance.” So maybe that was self-serving. Maybe that was him being masochistic. Because if Melanie holding back had him this hard, he couldn’t even imagine how dangerous she would be in her free-spirited porn-star persona.

But he was sure in the hell willing to try.

Melanie picked up her straw. Without saying a word, she made it disappear almost entirely into her mouth and throat.

Holy crap. Melanie had skills that he would like to have used on him. Repeatedly. He felt his eyebrows rise. Her hair was disheveled and her cheeks pink. The top of her chest was pink, too, whether from being overheated or from arousal, he didn’t know. He did know that she looked amazing, like someone he would like to find underneath him, naked and writhing. There was something about the look in her eye...

“That’s not Melly. That’s all you, Melanie. And you’re goddamn gorgeous.”