The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones (8 page)

Cindy walked into the kitchen and handed him a business card. He glanced at the small pink card and frowned. “What's this?”

“Mary Ellen is our local representative for this line of cosmetics.” She pointed to the gold-embossed name curling across the card. “Her company has just started a line of men's skin-care products, and she stopped by to offer you a free facial.”

“Why?”

Cindy returned to the refrigerator and pulled out jars of mayonnaise and mustard. “You're a single, good-looking guy, and Mary Ellen is...” She looked at him. “Let's just say I wouldn't recommend turning my back on her if I were you.”

He tossed the card on the table as if it had burned him. “This is a scary place.”

“Sorry, Mike. You'd better get used to it. Face it, you're about the most exciting thing to happen around here since they filmed a toilet-paper commercial at the local grocery store. You've got a very romantic profession, you've been shot. All the maternal types want to baby you, the single women want to marry you, the unfaithful wives want to sleep with you. You're a hot commodity.”

He almost asked what
she
wanted. But that would have been stupid. He was occasionally a jerk, but he rarely acted without thinking. “I feel like a minnow in a pool of piranhas.”

“Not a bad analogy.” She picked up two packages of luncheon meat. “Roast beef or turkey?”

“Beef.”

“Don't worry,” she told him. “Somehow I think you can take care of yourself.”

“We're about to find out. I don't even know the rules here.”

“They're simple. I'll explain them as I go. Rule number one—don't wear a towel when you answer the door.”

“So it's better to be naked?”

She grinned. “It would certainly be memorable. Although you might want to wear clothes to the barbecue Saturday. After all, Beth is going to be there.”

He shuddered. “I'm counting on you to protect me.”

She tore off several pieces of lettuce and handed them to him. “Go wash these, please.”

As he took them, their hands brushed. The electricity leaped between them again. Their gazes locked for a moment, then they both looked away. Cindy might be willing to protect him from Beth, but who was going to protect him from himself?

* * *

Cindy stood in the upstairs guest room and studied her outfit in the mirror. It was only eight-thirty on Saturday morning, but she was up, had showered and put on makeup and was now trying to decide what to wear. She hated herself for caring.

“It doesn't matter,” she said out loud. “He's not even going to get out of the car.”

It wasn't as if she wanted Nelson back. She wasn't trying to impress him. It was just a matter of pride. She glanced at the clock and swore. She'd wasted the better part of an hour trying to look her best, when Nelson was simply going to honk the horn. She was a fool. Worse, she was pathetic.

With that, Cindy stuck her tongue out at her reflection and left the room. She turned right and walked to the two bedrooms at the end of the hall. There was a bathroom between them. Both doors stood open.

“Are you guys about ready?” she asked.

Allison stepped out of her closet. “I'm packed, Mommy, but Shelby doesn't want to go. She likes Mike and wants to stay with him.”

“It's important for you to see your father,” Cindy said. “I'm sure Shelby would miss you if she stayed behind.”

“Shelby will come with me,” Allison said quickly, her green eyes widening. “She was just wondering if we could stay home this one time.”

“Sorry.” Cindy moved into the room and checked her daughter's suitcase. “You have a toothbrush in there?”

“I still have to brush my teeth.”

“Then go do it.”

Cindy moved through the bathroom, into the second bedroom. Allison's room was all ruffles and lace with stuffed animals filling the corners. Jonathan's room was spare by comparison. He kept most of his sports equipment in the garage. The built-in shelves in the closet kept his toys tidy. On his ninth birthday, Cindy had bought him a computer and several software programs. It sat on the desk in front of the window and that's where he spent a lot of his time.

“Are you packed?” she asked.

Jonathan didn't look up from the screen. “Uh-huh. I packed my toothbrush. You don't have to ask.”

“Good.” She bent down and kissed her son's head. “You have a good time with your dad. Be polite to him and to Hilari.”

Jonathan put down the joystick and looked up at her. Brown eyes, Nelson's eyes, stared at her. “She's just a dumb old girl,” he said.

She smiled. “I love you, too.”

With that, she left the room. She hated alternate weekends. First there was the rush of getting the children ready, and then they were gone. She couldn't even spend her morning cleaning up the kitchen. Nelson took the kids out to breakfast, so she didn't have to prepare anything.

She walked down the stairs, turning at the landing in the middle and following the staircase that led to the kitchen. The stairs were in the shape of an upside-down Y, with one leg leading to the living room and the other going to the kitchen. The smell of coffee greeted her.

“I hope you don't mind,” Mike said, motioning to the already full pot.

“I think it's wonderful.” She poured herself a cup, then glanced at the plastic containers, bowls and frying pan. “Are you cooking?”

“Pancakes. It's about the only thing I can make well.”

“Sounds great.”

He'd been in the house nearly two weeks and mobile for about nine days, but she still wasn't used to coming downstairs and seeing him in the kitchen. For one thing, he was too good-looking. A man like him should be saved for special occasions. She was used to something slightly more ordinary in her everyday life.

Now that his bullet wound had almost healed, he'd replaced his jeans with shorts. While she admired the tanned expanse of muscled leg, she wished he would go back to the denim. It was easier to concentrate when he wasn't so exposed.

He motioned to the empty bowl. “I don't know how many to make.”

“I can probably force myself to eat four small ones,” she said.

“What about the kids?”

She put her coffee on the counter and shrugged. “They won't be eating with us. It's their weekend to go with their father.”

“And you're leaving, too?”

“No, why?”

“You're sort of dressed up.”

She stared at the shorts and shirt she'd put on. The silk outfit had been on sale, otherwise she wouldn't have bought it. She was wearing makeup and she usually didn't bother. Her hair was curled. No wonder Mike thought she was going somewhere.

“Ignore me,” she said.

He moved close to her. “What's wrong?” he asked.

The overhead lights caught the various shades of brown in his hair. The colors ranged from dark blond to gold to chestnut. His military cut was growing out. In another couple of weeks he would pass for a civilian. His T-shirt emphasized his strength. She desperately wanted him to hold her. Just for a minute, until the feelings of inadequacy went away. A foolish wish. Mike was just passing through. It wasn't his fault that every time he touched her, her knees turned to marshmallows.

There was a clatter on the stairs. Both kids came running down, banging their small overnight suitcases against the railings.

“Careful,” she called.

They skittered to a stop when they saw the open containers. “Whatcha cooking?” Jonathan asked.

“Pancakes,” Mike answered, limping back to the island and picking up the flour. “Your mom said you'd be having breakfast with your dad.”

“But I want Mike's pancakes,” Allison wailed.

“Hey, I'll make them next week,” he said.

“Promise?”

He bent over and tugged on her blond braid. “Cross my heart.”

“You guys aren't going to do anything fun while we're gone, are you?” Jonathan asked.

“We'll be as boring as we are old,” Cindy said. “Besides, we're going to Mrs. Davis's for a barbecue tonight. If you guys stayed, you would have to come.”

She heard the sound of a car engine and looked out the kitchen window. A sleek red convertible pulled up in front of the house. Nelson honked the horn, then stepped out of the car. The children grabbed their suitcases and raced toward the door. Cindy followed more slowly.

At the front door there were frantic kisses and calls of goodbye. Nelson waited by the now-open trunk and waved to his children, but he didn't glance at Cindy. She knew they would be back tomorrow promptly at four-thirty. If there had been a change of plans, Nelson would have had his secretary call and tell her.

Without wanting to, she peered at the front passenger seat. She couldn't see much of Hilari except for her long, dark curls. Cindy had seen the woman close up once. She was startlingly beautiful with long legs and a perfectly flat stomach. She was also very young. Maybe twenty-two. Nelson was nearly forty.

As the kids climbed into the car, they stopped to hug Hilari. Cindy felt a stab of pain in her heart. She knew her children loved her, but watching them with bimbo number two was difficult.

She waved until the car turned on the cul-de-sac then sped off. She closed the door and slowly walked back to the kitchen.

“I hate her,” Cindy said as she grabbed her coffee and sat down at the table. “I suppose it's transference. I don't want to hate Nelson because I might say something to the children, and I don't want to make it harder on them. So I hate her.” She took a sip of the hot liquid and grimaced. “I wish he would pick them up Friday night so I could get drunk or something, but what is there to do at nine on a Saturday morning?” She shook her head. “I sound pretty pathetic. Did you see her?”

Mike was measuring milk. “Who?”

“Nelson's girlfriend. Hilari. One
L,
and an
I
instead of a
Y
.”

“You're kidding? Yeah, I saw her. So?”

“She's very beautiful. Even younger than the woman he left me for. Nelson kept his trophy wife for nearly a year, but they've separated now.”

He cracked an egg, then looked at her. “Let me get this straight. You're upset because your ex-husband is dating some skinny teenager who can't even spell her name? Cindy, you're a beautiful woman, you've got great kids. Nelson is obviously a fool as well as a cad. Forget him.” He picked up a fork and began stirring the batter.

She stared at him. His words floated around in her brain, then sort of settled in place. Mike thought she was beautiful. He'd said it casually, as if it was an obvious fact. The way most people would comment on the color of her eyes, or her hair.

She sipped her coffee and grinned. The most gorgeous man she'd ever met was standing in her kitchen, cooking her breakfast, telling her that her ex-husband was a jerk and that she was beautiful. If Mike kept that up much longer, she wouldn't have any choice—she would have to fall for him.

Chapter Five

“I
thought it would look like Tara from
Gone With the Wind,
” Mike said as they pulled up to the country club.

Cindy glanced at the large white building in front of them. It sprawled out on either side. To the left was the swimming pool where the kids' swim team practiced and had meets, beyond that, the tennis courts. On three sides was the private golf course. She suspected living close to the golf course was one of the few things Nelson missed about their marriage.

“Southern Gothic would have been too obvious,” she said. “They went for a sort of art deco look, instead. More contemporary.” She left the keys in the ignition and took the parking stub the valet handed her.

Mike had already opened the side door on the passenger's side. She grabbed her small gym bag. “It's pretty crowded on weekends,” she said, pointing to the cars filling the parking lot. “When you come on your own, you don't have to use the valet. I thought it would be easier today.”

Mike picked up his bag and slid the door of the minivan closed. “I appreciate it. I wouldn't want to use up all my strength walking to the gym only to collapse once I got there. I appreciate your bringing me.”

“It's no trouble. We'll get you signed up. Grace has a family membership, so you can easily be added for the summer. In addition to the gym, there's tennis and golf. Oh, the restaurant's pretty good, too.”

He held open the front door for her. As she walked past him, she noticed her eyes were level with his throat, just as they had been with Nelson. But somehow, Mike seemed larger than her ex-husband.

“I've never understood the purpose of golf,” Mike said, following her to the reception desk. “It seems like a perfectly good way to ruin a walk.”

She laughed. “You need to say that quietly around here. People take their golf very seriously. There are seven courses within a fifteen-minute drive.”

When they reached the reception desk, the young woman there smiled at both of them. Her gaze drifted over Cindy, then settled on Mike. Cindy almost heard her intake of air. “Good morning,” she said, her voice nearly a purr. “How may I help you?”

Cindy leaned on the countertop. “My friend, Mr. Blackburne, is staying at his sister's house for the summer while she's away. He would like to use the facilities here. His sister has a family membership. I have the card right here.”

She held it out. The woman, barely out of her teens, couldn't seem to tear her gaze away from Mike. Cindy waved it in front of the receptionist's face. “Miss? The card?”

“Oh.” The woman blinked. Her smile broadened. “It will be no trouble, Mr. Blackburne. Would you like a tour of the facilities? I would be happy to take you myself.”

Mike shook his head. “Cindy's going to take me around.”