My Biker Bodyguard (17 page)

She swiveled, surprised. "You'd do that?"
He shrugged, smiling. "I could use a vacation."
Hope drained away. Nothing permanent.
Just like all the
men in my life
. She could just imagine what her dad would
think.
No, I'm not gonna let him rule my life anymore.
The thought shocked the resentment that had been
building in her to the surface. She had been too afraid to look
at what it really meant. Her life had been spent caring for
grown men who should be able to take care of themselves. She
had given up all her dreams, all her own plans, because she was
afraid.
What am I afraid of?
The answer leapt forward, as if it had always been waiting
for the question to be asked.
That they'll leave me. That I'll always end up alone.
Now Mitch was telling her he wouldn't make any
promises, that he wanted to hang out with her for a while,
maybe drink some beer, get a new tattoo. A vacation.
How stupid she'd been. She yanked on her pants, worked
on her shoes. Her legs still trembled from making love to a
man who offered only his body, not his heart. Pulling up her
zipper, she said, "I'm not some weekend getaway, Mitch."
Tears burning her eyes, she stalked out of the stall.
Stupid, stupid, stupid
.
Did she really think he'd give up his job in L.A. and settle
for living the rest of his life giving tattoos and fixing HarleyDavidson's with her? God had broken the mold on idiocy
when he'd created her.
"Jess, wait." Mitch jogged up behind her and put a hand
on her shoulder.
She jerked away and kept going. "Leave me alone."
He wouldn't be deterred and grasped her arm. "Stop this.
Right now."
Forced to face him, she kept her gaze on his chest as she
waited for him to spit out whatever he wanted to say so she
could be free to leave. He smelled of their love-making and
hay.
"Jess." With his free hand he touched her chin, but she
turned aside. He sighed. "I thought…I thought you'd be happy
to have me go back with you. I didn't mean to hurt you. Hell, I
don't even know what I did."
She did look up then and saw the concern and confusion
in his deep brown eyes. "You didn't do anything I didn't want
you to. Don't worry, it's not your fault. It's mine. Maybe you
were right, maybe…." she swallowed hard before continuing,
"maybe we're just fooling ourselves."
"About what?"
"About this thing between us, as you call it." Jess wanted
to run and hide, to bury herself in her misery and never come
out. Inside, she still throbbed from the exquisite memory of his
touch, but her heart ached more. "What could possibly come
from a relationship between us? I can't live here, you can't live
there, we're just thrown together until all this is over."
"Is that what you really think?"
No! No, it's not. I want the fairy tale, I want you to whisk
me off into the sunset and love me forever
. "Yes. It's what I
really think."
He dropped his hand and took a step back, his eyes
shuttered against her. "Sorry–I didn't realize."
Oh, she wanted to kick herself, wanted to…make sure she
didn't fall in love with him just so he could leave her. "Mitch,"
her voice was thick with tears. She shook her head to dismiss
all the truths she wanted to say. "I'm sorry too."
She turned and ran then, afraid that she'd make a bigger
fool of herself than she had. Afraid she'd turn around and tell
him she was already head over heels for him, that there would
never be another man she wanted more.
Afraid to tell him that she loved him.

Three days passed in gut-wrenching silence. Mitch could
hardly be in the same room for more than five minutes before
Jess left on one flimsy excuse after another. Torn between
letting her go, and following her and demanding she hear him
out, he'd always let her go because he didn't know what to say.

He hunted for a way to convince her she was on the verge
of throwing her own dreams away to please her father. Afraid
to leave Dirty Dan's side, she didn't have a life of her own. He
didn't want it to end this way. Hell, he didn't know if he
wanted it to end at all and that frightening thought held him
back as well.

Each night he tossed and turned, thinking of the
possibilities. How much savings did he really need before he
gave up his career and started seeing the world? Did that
dream mean as much to him as being with Jess? Every time he
thought of leaving without her, his jaw clenched. If this kept
up, he'd need a dentist soon.

He couldn't ask her to come with him though. Jess
couldn't see how destructive her misplaced loyalty was. To
prove it, would mean hurting her. Something he didn't want to
do, not after what happened in the stables, not after what they'd
been through together.

It didn't help either that when he finally did fall asleep, his
dreams were filled with a bird of paradise, long colorful
feathers rising in a night sky until it's wings failed and it
crashed to the earth, dead on impact. He'd wake with a start, a
protest locked in his throat, sweating and confused.

She'd said she wasn't a weekend getaway. It bothered him
she believed he'd think of her like that. She was so much more
to him–but to argue that point too, he would have to define
what he felt for her, and he didn't have a concrete answer. Hell
yes, he cared, but that didn't seem to be enough, or the full
truth.

He could tell her what she wanted to hear, say he'd come
out to Wisconsin and look for a place to lay down roots. Then
go out there with the 'maybe' in his head, but he knew that
wouldn't work. He was cursed with a damned conscience and
if she ever found out, or suspected, she'd never trust him again.
He either would have to decide to move there permanently, or
never again entertain leaving L.A. for her.

Now, this morning, when he stood watching her retreat,
arm hooked through Jared's as they wound down the path to the
garden, he found himself filled with jealousy. She should be
on his arm, smiling up at him, chatting about…whatever she
was chatting about. He scowled. What could he do or say?

The slightest misspoken thought could damage his
chances with her. He was angry too. Didn't she realize that
every day they wasted in silence was a day they could spend
together?

He couldn't ask her to make herself vulnerable to him.
She had to come to him on her own, in her own time. He was
finding more and more that he wasn't patient, not at all.
Despite his decision to let her come to him, he couldn't wait.

Jess stepped up the gazebo steps and sat opposite Jared as
she had the last two mornings. Escaping Mitch seemed easier
when Jared was available and she rarely passed up a chance.
Today, however, she wasn't going to go on and on about inane
things, skirting around any subject regarding her mother.
Today, she was going to say and ask the things she'd been
getting up her courage to discuss.

"Tell me," Jess said, curling her legs under her on the
padded bench, "About how you met my mother. You said it
was a good story."

Jared grinned and leaned back, staring upward as if
accessing the memories. "Ah, what a story. Well," he looked
back at her and his smile widened. "She wasn't too much older
than you. I had just been hired by your grandfather and he'd
invited me out here for a charity garden party. Of course, the
old man didn't realize how insensitive it was to serve alcohol in
front of Beth. She'd only been clean and sober a few months
then."

He leaned forward and dropped his elbows on his knees.
"Anyway, your mother decided she wanted to go riding–her
favorite escape."

The mention of the stables made her heart quicken and she
cleared her throat. "Which one is her horse?"
"They're all hers. I don't do much riding, found I'm not,
ah…not quite built for it."
"Oh." Jess smiled politely. "Go on, I didn't mean to
interrupt you."
"Oh yes, where was I? Yes, yes. She'd decided to go for a
ride," he chuckled. "It was a new horse, not yet familiar with
her or the grounds–or so I found out later. But your mother,
she's all dressed up for the party. Imagine it if you can, she's
wearing this floral dress thing and it's flying around her, her
hair all unbound and wild around her head, and this…terrible
look on her face. She guided the horse straight for the banquet
table where a pyramid of champagne glasses had just been
poured."
Jess smiled. "All because he was serving champagne?"
"You never met your grandfather. He was a…stern man.
Even at his best he could drive a person crazy. Remember too,
your mother was going through a rough time. Missing you and
everything."
"Missing me?" Jess whispered past the abrupt barricade of
emotion lodged in her throat.
"Yes, of course. She loves you very much." He seemed
surprised. "I know you haven't really had a chance to hear all
this before, but I thought you knew why she stayed away."
Jess nodded. "My father said he didn't want her to get in
touch with me because he was afraid she'd…hurt me again.
Why didn't she try harder? I mean, if she really loved me?"
"Is that what you think? Oh gosh, Jess, she was torn up
about what she'd done. She still cries about it at night
sometimes–or at least before she was shot. You have to
understand, she had it in her head that you didn't want to see
her. She was afraid that merely showing up on your doorstep
would make you angry with her or you'd be hurt she didn't do
as you wished and stay away."
"But I never told anyone I didn't want to see her. I
thought she was gone, that even my father didn't know where
she was. I never even knew that she got clean."
He shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jess. I don't know what to
tell you. It seems as if nobody really knew what was going on
with the other. I wished it hadn't been that way, for both you
and her."
Jess took a deep breath and unfolded her legs, stretching
them for a moment in front of her. When she felt capable of
speaking again, she said, "I would have loved having her
around."
"She wanted you just as much." He stood and came to her
side, wrapping a fatherly arm around her. "But it's all right
now. You're here, she'll get well, and no more years will be
lost."
Lost, she thought. All that time apart when they could
have been together. She closed her eyes and tried to take her
mind off how wonderful it would be to really meet her mother.
To get rid of the anger that still lingered, the real resentment
that a mother would leave like that.
She was lost, but she was
found…and she loves me.
"Finish telling me your story."
She felt him nod, but didn't pull away. How much she
missed her own father. Mitch's smile appeared in her mind's
eye and she closed the door on that future firmly. No, she
couldn't give up family for him. No matter how much that
choice hurt, she was sure it was the right one.
"All the guests had arrived. The party was a resounding
success, and your mother rode that crazed horse through the
crowd, knocking one lady's hat right off her head. Beth leapt
over a set of chairs and straight for that stack of champagne
glasses. Can you guess where I was standing?"
Jess smiled, thinking she could, but wanted to hear it.
"No. Where?"
"Right next to the champagne glasses."
She chuckled. "What happened?"
"The horse wasn't having anything to do with jumping
over that big table and at the last second, it bucked so hard,
Beth flew off his back, over its head, and straight into the…"
"Champagne glasses!" Jess sat up, grinning.
"Exactly. Champagne went everywhere." He removed
his arm from around her to wave them crazily in the air. "Here,
there, everywhere. And me, I did what I did best back in
college. I caught the ball–only it turned out to be a gorgeous
woman with a heart of gold and a hankering for boring old
number crunchers."
"Catching her like that," Jess nudged him with her elbow.
"You couldn't have been too boring."
"Aw, shucks." He made a dopey face.
Surprised, she threw her head back and laughed.
"Just don't let it get around," Jared said sternly, pointing at
her. "I got employees to keep in check."
"Everyone deserves a good laugh now and then. No
matter how serious their job is." Jess meant it kindly and
smiled to soften her words, which wasn't hard to do.
My
mother missed me, wanted me, loved me
.
"That's true. Too much of a good thing, though, and all
that." He stood, stretched. "I'm beginning to enjoy our daily
talks. Unfortunately, I have to get to the office today. What
say we continue this tomorrow?"
She nodded. "Sure, okay. Think I'm gonna stay out here
for a while though."
"Enjoy the day then." He waved as he headed for the
steps. "See you tomorrow."
"You too." She followed him to the top of the stairs,
waving as he left.
Arms crossed, she leaned against a column. Not many
could claim such a first meeting as her step-father and mother
had. A lot different than the bar story her dad had told her.
A sense of belonging filled her up, a kind of balm over an
empty cold place warmed her chest. She didn't have her own
memories, but she had the memories of the men who'd loved
her mother, one of them still did. The sensation felt wonderful.
The shadow of a man, a very large man fell on the path.
Mitch. He passed beneath the long-reaching branch of a tree,
his eyes on the ground and wearing a scowl that said his
thoughts weren't pleasant.
He hadn't seen her yet.
She could run.
She could take off right now and pretend she wasn't in the
gazebo at all. Poised to do just that, she stepped onto the first
stair. His eyes snapped up and locked on her as if they were
search and destroy missiles waiting for movement.
Her heart thudded and she inhaled sharply. She could still
run. To hell with whether he'd seen her or not. No way would
she subject herself to him, to his scent, to the memory of what
he'd done to her in the stable. How he'd won her heart. She
took another step.
"Jess. Don't. Please," Mitch called, quickening his pace.
"I need to talk to you."
She stopped at the word need, whether by instinct or by
habit, it didn't matter. He'd found her sore spot. "What?"
He joined her on the stairs, his entire body tense. Those
dark eyes she couldn't resist turned fully on her. "Don't run
from me anymore. Let's talk."
She didn't answer, didn't know what to say. Shrugging her
shoulders, she mumbled. "I wasn't running from you."
He grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the bench.
His touch made her stomach tighten, made her bra feel a size
too small.
Without a doubt, I have no self control
. "My dad is
gonna expect me to call him soon. He's probably sitting by the
phone right now."
That wasn't exactly true, but she did call around lunch
each day now, and he might be waiting for her this early.
Pulling her hand free, she plopped down beside Mitch. Lifting
her thighs, she shoved her hands safely beneath them and
looked at her sneakers. "I'm gonna need a new pair soon."
From the corner of her eyes she caught him glance at her
shoes. "They look fine to me."
Wiggling them back and forth so the laces snapped against
the leather, she nodded. "Yeah, maybe they're still good."
"Okay." He waited a few silent seconds that sucked out
the air in the space between them and left it filled with tension.
"Do you think you're ready now? Or should we discuss your
jeans?"
She smiled at that, straightened and looked at him. Big
mistake. "What's wrong with my jeans?"
He grinned at her teasing tone.
Oh, big-BIG mistake
. She turned away from that
endearing smile. "If you have something to say, I'm listening."
"I don't have anything to say, I've got a question to ask.
Two actually. Depending on your answers, I'll keep my
distance until you go back to Milwaukee, or…everything will
be okay between us again. I won't ask unless you give the go
ahead. It's up to you."
Yeah, sure, like she was really going to leave the gazebo
not knowing what those questions were. "Ask away."
"You sure?"
She rolled her eyes and prayed for patience. He had no
idea how hard it was to sit beside him. "Are you gonna ask, or
what?"
He heaved a breath and leaned back, his shirt stretched
tight over his upper arms, the muscles outlined by sunshine.
"How many messages are written on your wall back home–"
"About a hundred," she interrupted. What a weird
question. She frowned. What did that have to do with
anything?
"You didn't let me finish." He cocked his head to the side,
studying her. "I was gonna ask, how many of those messages
are for you?"
"Oh," she said. She studied the roof, thinking. "I don't
know, but they're all from my dad's friends."
"And?"
She shrugged. "So? What are you getting at."
"How come none of your friends wrote on the wall?"
"You didn't."
"That's different. We left in a hurry. Answer the
question."
"My friends always leave in a hurry too." She was lying
and she knew he knew it. She stood and went to the other side
of the gazebo, his silence following her all the way. She spun
on him, suddenly angry. "Look, you want me to admit it, I'll
admit it. I don't have any friends of my own. Okay? You
happy? Was that your second question because I'm really not
in any mood to get the third degree from you."
Mitch came to her and placed his hands on her arms,
rubbing her shoulders gently with his thumbs. There was no
room to step back from him, no escape. He smelled amazing.
Like…sweet, fresh hay in the afternoon.
"No, that's not what I wanted you to admit to. I wanted
you to see you've got proof he'll be okay."
"What?" She stared at his chest, afraid to hear him, afraid
to be this close to him. The urge to plug her ears and not have
her own conclusions voiced aloud kept getting waylaid by his
heat and scent. The security of his nearness was something
she'd come to rely on, come to know as a shield between her
and death, and now it opened doors that led to a new life. To a
world where she wasn't needed by anyone at all.
"You have a wall full of written proof that your dad will
never be alone. He has good, loyal friends to look out for him.
Proof that you don't have to take care of him anymore."
Tears burned into her eyes. There it was. Undeniable.
The truth she didn't want to accept but had to, regardless of her
fears. Her father didn't need her anymore. "What was your
second question?"
* * *
Mitch stepped back, almost forgetting his second question.
Her hair smelled so damned good and her skin was so hot
beneath his hands. Part of him felt like a jerk for doing this to
her, the other couldn't let her live in the cocoon she'd wrapped
herself in. Being near her again proved no part of him could
stomach losing her.
"Mitch?" she asked, her voice a mere whisper, green eyes
glittering with unshed tears.
He cleared his throat. This was it, the moment he'd tell
her the decision he'd made, but hadn't let himself realize before.
Whatever it took to be by her side, to stay with her, he would.
He'd been a fool for waiting this long already. "If…if I were to
come to Milwaukee, to get a place and set myself up out there
as I did here…would that make a difference?"
She looked at him, fully, for the first time since he'd
dragged her into the gazebo. "You would do that?"
"For you, I would do that."
He was sure she was gonna tell him it wasn't enough, she
didn't want him after all and he'd only deluded himself.
Clouds cleared from her gaze, a ray of hope brightened
her features. Then she turned away. "I don't know Mitch. I
couldn't ask you to give up your life for me. That wouldn't be
right. What if you left everything and you weren't happy
with…in Milwaukee?"
"I'm willing to risk it." He smiled and lifted her chin.
"Are you willing, Jess? Will you take this chance with me?"
She breathed and swallowed hard, studying him.
"Mitch…I don't want to hurt you."
He heard what she meant instead. She didn't want him to
hurt her. "You won't."
"You can't know that." Her hands rose between them,
lying against his chest, but they didn't push him away.
"I have faith," he lowered his head. "Tell me you want me
to be with you, Jess. Say the words."
Her lids dipped, her gaze on his mouth so intense he felt a
responding tingle, a magnetic draw. He waited for her reply.
"I," she started, her tongue touching her lips, wetting
them. "I want you with me."
He captured her mouth, pulled her into his arms, telling
her with every inch of him she would be safe, that he wouldn't
let anyone harm her, including himself. She moaned with a
pain he felt in the salty taste of her tears, in the shudder of her
shoulders, in the fists holding his shirt. To live, survive,
breathe another day had been his purpose, but those needs
paled beside the need to love her.
"Jess," he whispered, drawing back, filled with a
vulnerable happiness he'd never wanted or needed so much. "I
think…I think…I love you."
Her chest hitched and the tears that had been trapped in
her eyes streamed over her cheeks. "I think I love you, too."
He hugged her tight. The shifting, crumbling of his cold
concrete core, poured the day his mother died, layered by every
betrayal, covered over by every dark deed he'd done, wasn't as
painful as he'd imagined.
He could have gone on holding her, and from the way she
relaxed against him, he thought they could have stood there
until dusk. But he felt a shift in the air, a stirring of senses, a
silent signal they were soon to be approached by a yet
unknown person. Rattled, afraid Jess could be snatched from
him just as quickly as he'd found her, he turned and withdrew
the pistol in his holster. He shoved her behind him.