Guarding the Quarterback (Champions of the Heart #1) (4 page)

“All in a day’s work,” I said with more bravado than I felt. What the hell was wrong with me? Dean was a client. Protecting him was an assignment, not a chance to act out a role-playing fantasy of quarterback and cheerleader. As if I ever wanted to be a cheerleader.

“You know as my
pretend
girlfriend, you’ll have to pretend to like me?”

That wouldn’t be the problem at all. I liked him. Well, not like, but lust. Oh hell, yes. Lots and lots of lust. And I could blame the blush in my cheeks and my googly eyes on my acting skills. “It will take an Academy Award winning performance.”

“And the Oscar goes to…?”

I bit my lip.
Just tell him. It’s just a name.
My reluctance was bordering on cowardice, and I hated being a coward. “Alexa.”

“Alexa.” His voice lowered, husky yet with a touch of velvety smoothness. Seductive. “It suits you. Beautiful and tough.”

Beautiful?
Now who was acting? And he had to be acting. But his eyes mirrored my want.

“Um, don’t you have to be at practice?” Please, anywhere or anything just to get away from his dominating presence.

I should have backed away, but I wouldn’t let him win this little power play. From an early age I’d acted bigger than my size. I was fearless, but he made me afraid. Not in the physical sense, but on an emotional level that was as foreign to me as the clothes I was wearing.

“Yes, I do.” He leaned in. “You make a man forget himself.”

He wasn’t the only one who was forgetting themselves. I was his bodyguard, not his lover, yet the desire to meet him the rest of the way for the kiss he was teasing me for almost overwhelmed me. But that’s all it was, a tease. Worse yet, a test. Oh, God. What if his come-on was some elaborate plan to put me in a compromising position?

I laughed and threw in a snort. “Seriously, Dean, who falls for those kind of lines?”

Dropping his other hand from the doorframe, he dragged his fingers through his short hair. “Fuck, let’s go.”

I was relieved when he gave up first because I was one breath away from giving in, of crossing that line and kissing him into a state of amnesia. Before leaving, I texted the security team that we were on the move. The recon of his bedroom would have to wait.

We rode in silence down the elevator. I reveled in the stillness, knowing once we hit the street I was going to have a fight on my hands when he found out that I was also his driver.

Raising a brow, Dean mockingly bowed as he held the door. I swept by since I needed to be ahead of him to watch out for anything suspicious as we left the building. I tapped my ear as an
all okay
signal to Dubois, who was watching from a surveillance van.

We dashed across the one-way street to the multi-level garage, but I placed myself between him and any car that might screech out from a parking space.

Walking right by his Porsche, I said, “Our ride is this way.”

Dean stopped. “Mine will be faster.”

“Is it bulletproof?”

“No.”

“Then we take my vehicle.”

He obediently followed, but said, “Give me the keys.”

“Did you train with the CIA?”

“The Culinary Institute?”

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Come on, that was funny.”

I hit the remote for the locks and engine starter as we approached Ian’s Security’s pimped-out Cadillac Escalade, surprised that I didn’t get more of an argument when I climbed behind the wheel.

I darted in and out of the traffic, checking the rearview mirror from time to time for a possible tail.

“Will you slow the fuck down?”

“And you said your Porsche would be faster. Hah.”

“I wasn’t aware I’d be driving with Danica Patrick.”

“It’s called evasive driving.” Okay, so I was driving a little erratically, but I needed the distraction to get his dick pic out of my brain. The fact that I was in charge of protecting a guy who took pictures of his genitals should have disgusted me. Instead I was disgusted with myself for dwelling on it—for being utterly fascinated by it.

I cut off a cab and shot between two busses.

“Jesus, I thought you were supposed to protect me, not kill me.”

“Don’t be such a drama queen.” I smiled, but I slowed up a bit. “We need to work on our cover story.”

“What do you mean?” Dean relaxed into his seat.

“How we met, for starters.”

“Strip club?”

I gave him a side-eyed glance. “Too cliché.”

“Bible study?”

I didn’t take my eyes off the road, but I could actually feel his smile.

“Now that would really ruin your reputation, wouldn’t it?” I took the turn for the tunnel out of the city. His deep laughter rumbled through the SUV and through my body. In the darkness of the tunnel, I shifted in my seat. “Let’s keep it simple,” I said.

Dean stroked his beard. “I know. We’ll say my sister introduced us.”

“Trudy in California?”

“Jesus. How do you—never mind.”

He wouldn’t be happy to find out I had a dossier on Dean Walker that would impress the FBI. We spent the rest of the way going over the cover story.

He directed me to the players parking area, and I pulled up to the curb by the entrance. I notified Oslo of our arrival, and he gave me the all clear.

“What are you going to be doing while I’m at practice?” asked Dean.

“I didn’t take you for a controlling boyfriend.”

“Whoa, I’m not…” Then he noticed my smile. “You should do that more often.”

“Smile?”

“Yes, it makes you look…”

Pretty?

“…human,” he said.

Oh.
“I’ll pick up you after practice. Oslo or Williams will text me.”

“Don’t I get a kiss goodbye?”

His eyes were full of mischief, but just the thought of his lips on mine created mayhem inside my body.

“No need. Nobody is looking.”
Thank God.
I didn’t think I was quite ready for that part of the act.

“Couldn’t hurt to practice,” he teased. Or maybe he wasn’t.

“I think we both know you don’t need any practice.” I tried to keep my tone light, even though sarcasm burned on the tip of my tongue.

“What about you? Do you need practice? A rehearsal?”

I shook my head. “Just two pair of lips coming together. No big deal.”

“Baby doll, then you haven’t been properly, or rather improperly, kissed.”

“If you call me that one more time, it’s not your stalker you’re going to need protection from.” I hated that I was a fraud. The endearment, said with hint of roughness, sweetly echoed inside me. And if he kissed me any which way, I’d turned the SUV around and head back to his apartment. Hell, I’d drag him into the backseat.

“God, you’re sexy when you talk tough.” Dean opened the car door and got out, turning to wink at me before going into the players entrance.

He was sexy standing still. How the hell was I suppose to watch out for threats when I could barely keep my eyes off of Dean?

Dean

P
utting the death
threat out of my mind was a hell of a lot easier than banishing Alexa from my thoughts.

Pint-sized and mouthy, the bodyguard wasn’t my type at all, yet I couldn’t think of any other woman I’d rather take to bed tonight. Or take on any one of the pieces of my gym equipment. If she’d given me the slightest encouragement earlier, I would have gotten her out of my system on the weight bench that beckoned behind her as we stood in the doorway of my home gym. But there had been no encouragement, only annoyance.

Either she was immune to my charms or I was losing my touch.

I threw a half-assed pass to my wide receiver, Nicolai Ward. When the ball landed five feet in front of him, he stood with his hands in the air as if to say,
What the fuck was that?

Coming back to the huddle, he ribbed, “Get your head out of your ass, Walker.”

“I can’t help it if my ass is that cute,” I quipped.

“It’s not, white boy.”

“Glad to hear that
you
think so, but the ladies beg to differ. And I do mean beg.”

“Beg you to stop.”

“Your sister didn’t,” I joked with a wide smile.

“Damn,” said Parker, my running back. The offensive linemen hooted.

“You don’t have the balls to go after my sister. You’d be a dead man, and I’d be talking to a ghost right now.”

Dead man.
If Ward only knew how close I was to dying for real. That is, if you took the threat seriously, which I didn’t.

Before we could run another play, the whistle blew, and the head coach called me over. Oslo, posing as one of the equipment managers, handed off a water bottle, and I took a long drink.

The coach waited until Oslo made himself scarce, then said, “I’ve been advised of your situation.”

Fuck.
The last thing I needed was my coach questioning my ability to lead the team. “It’s nothing. Billings is overreacting.”

“This is not going to distract you?”

“No way. You can count on me. Besides, it’s a bunch of bullshit.”

“Well, if I haven’t killed you yet…” The coach let the comment hang.

“Aww, coach, you hurt my feelings.” With my antics off the field, I would bet he had thought of murder, but come game day, I was the one he wanted in the pocket. I might not have the best arm in the league, but I had the best mind for football, reading the opposing team’s defense like tomorrow’s sports pages.

Nobody wanted to win more than me—nobody took a loss harder than me. Missing the playoffs last year for the first time in my eight-season career had hurt. I hadn’t nursed my wounds so much as I’d fed them, working my ass off during the off-season. This was the year the Kings would rule NYC. This was the year we would go to the championship game and win that almighty ring. Shut the damn media up and make all the haters eat leather. I’d earn my paycheck, and then Carlos would negotiate for more when my contract was up at the end of year. Bigger endorsement deals. More women.

At eight and two, the team could smell the playoffs, but with the Washington Warriors breathing down our necks at seven and three, there was no room for distractions. No room for death threats and none for a cute little bodyguard who gave as good as she got. She’d surprised me. I needed to draw up another game plan. I had to stop messing around. Let Alexa do her job and I’d do mine. Fucking win it all.

The rest of practice ran smoothly. I hit my targets, and I was feeling pleased with myself as my teammates and I headed for the exit.

As promised, Alexa was waiting for me by the door, looking good enough to lick.

“Hey, baby doll.” What happened to my decision not to mess with her? But I couldn’t help myself. The flash of anger in her eyes was like a sweet rush to my blood.

“Baby doll?” questioned Parker.

“What do we have here?” asked Ward, who was eyeballing my bodyguard. “Why, aren’t you the little pocket rocket.”

Pocket rocket? That was the perfect description of Alexa. Crap, I hadn’t anticipated how my teammates would react. “This is Alexa, my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend? You?” asked Parker.

The way he said it was like I was incapable of a relationship. “Don’t act so shocked. Quarterbacks need love too.”

Parker, Ward, and two of my linemen gathered around Alexa like she was a shiny new toy. “Are you a porn star?” Parker asked, starting the inquisition.

“That would be a negative,” she answered. Being surrounded by four oversized males would have intimidated any other woman, but Alexa stood her ground.

“Stripper?” asked Jacobs, my center.

Alexa gave me a side-eyed glance before responding with another negative.

“Acrobat?” guessed Tony, my left guard.

“I know, I know,” butted in Ward. “An Olympic gymnast!”

My teammates didn’t know when to let up.

“Cut it out, guys.” I put my arm around Alexa, staking my claim.

The sudden feel of the soft curve of her hip against my thigh jolted my dormant protective instincts to the surface. She was the one who was supposed to be guarding me, but it didn’t sit right. I was all for women’s rights—my two sisters not only were great moms, but they crushed it in the corporate world. However, when it came to physical threats, it was a man’s job—no, it was his duty—to protect his woman. Maybe, this was what I was feeling—a natural instinct to protect what was mine, even if it was pretend.

There was no threat from my teammates, other than their own natural instinct to hit on a pretty girl. From the way Alexa blocked me, I knew she’d handle these bozos with ease. Unfortunately, she did it at my expense.

She shook her head. “Not even close, boys. I’m a dominatrix.”

Holy crap.
If only she was. Wait, maybe she was. The way she barked out orders, Alexa might be. I didn’t know if this turned me on or not, but I was definitely curious.

My teammates thought the idea was hilarious. Whether it was because of Alexa’s tiny stature or because they knew my playboy lifestyle didn’t mesh with a controlling female, I couldn’t say, but I did know that by tomorrow there’d be whips, chains, and ball-gags decorating my locker.
Fuck.

“She’s an accountant,” I said, sticking to the story we’d created.

“Yeah, by day.” Alexa flirted, smiling at my team like a femme fatale from a James Bond movie.

Oh, holy hell. Why didn’t I get to see that side of her? And why did a pang of jealousy gnaw at me like I was her real boyfriend?

Then she smacked my ass hard. Harder than I thought a girl of her size could muster.

“Come on, big boy,” said Alexa. “Let’s get you home where you belong.”

I was one part humiliated and a whole-hell-of-a-lot turned on.

The quicker we got to the SUV, the less time they would have to ask questions or leer at her as if she were a delectable morsel to be gobbled up.

I steered her toward the parking lot and away from the pack mentality of my bros. “Why did you say that?”

“I was worried they weren’t buying me as your girlfriend.” Alexa hit the locks of the SUV and got in.

I slid into the passenger seat beside her. “It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. I’m not exactly boyfriend material.”