achieve in comparison to Arielle, who had been a pampered and extremely spoiled pop star since her early teens.
Maddie snuggled closer as if she was cold, and he pulled the blanket across both of them. Nope, definitely not Madeline material. Maddie just seemed to fit her better.
Why had an obviously classy lady like her condescended to spend time with a guy like him, anyway? What did she want from him? Unfortunately, suspicion of everyone and everything came with his line of work. Well, his former line of work. He used to be a bodyguard. A damned good one. Fought over by a who’s who of international celebrities. Until Arielle. Or rather, until she died. On his watch.
Damn, he needed a drink.
He’d noticed several new bottles of whiskey in the cabinet in his room earlier. He shook off the memory of Arielle’s dead, green eyes staring up vacantly, her back arched in death spasms, her blond hair matted black with dried blood. He swore silently to himself. How rude would it be to dump Maddie off his lap and make a beeline for the liquor cabinet?
Probably unforgivably rude. And he really liked the warm, soft, cuddly feel of her in his lap like this. She fit just right against his chest, her forehead tucked against his neck, her arms wrapped lightly around his ribs. Holding her, like he was now, was…comforting. Made him feel not so alone. He wasn’t lonely, of course, he told himself hastily. But a hug felt nice now and again. Even to a bastard like him.
Maddie’s sobs renewed themselves, although quieter this time. She swiped at her eyes, dashing away tears, then tucked her fist under her chin, childlike. He recognized the body language. She was crying out some sort of trauma that had transformed itself into a desperate need for comfort. Any kind of comfort. A cuddle, or sex or whatever. And he happened to be the nearest able-bodied male able to fill her need. And Lord knew, he was willing.
No guy in his right mind would care about being used for comfort sex by a woman this hot. Not that he’d been in his right mind for the past six months or so. But still. He was totally okay with being this woman’s shoulder sponge and sex toy.
Alarm jolted him. Jeez. What if he was the cause of her being this upset? He racked his brain. What boneheaded thing had he said or done to her within the massive black gap yawning tauntingly in his memory?
He worked through the logic quickly. She wouldn’t have come home with him if he’d hurt her or been rude to her, would she? Was she on the rebound from some other jerk, maybe?
He swore under his breath. He really had to cut back on the booze. He couldn’t recall a damned thing about the past day or so.
Thing was, Tom sighed, he knew better than to be some socialite’s casual beach fling like this. He’d watched Arielle blast through men like a demolition derby driver, leaving a messy trail of wrecked lives in her wake. The sour taste of it in his mouth washed away the lingering traces of Maddie’s impossibly sexy scent.
He probably ought to do something to draw her out of her crying jag. She’d been at it for a while now. He sighed. Ever the good guy, he was. It was probably why he never got the girl. He’d vowed to hang up his good guy white hat once and for all when he came here to the end of the world. But apparently, a few vestiges of it lingered, dammit.
Instead of kissing her like he’d originally intended, he halted, his mouth inches from hers. “Can you feel it?” he murmured.
“Feel what?”
“Blood flowing through your veins. Air moving in and out of your lungs. Heat on your skin.”
She blinked a couple of times as if she was having trouble registering the meaning of his words. Lost in a sexual haze, was she? An instant of male triumph surged in his gut. So, sue him. Yeah, he got a rush out of turning on a good-looking woman.
He half whispered, “We made it to shelter before the storm. We’re safe. Doesn’t it feel great just to be alive?”
Her eyes were big and wide as she gazed up at him in the dim lamplight. Sudden, intense awareness of their bodies rushed over her face as plain as day. He didn’t have to see her blush to feel its sudden heat radiating off her. She swayed closer to him, her fingers toying with his chest hair in unconscious flirtation.
He could so have her right now. And she’d so hate him for it in the morning. He sighed and drew back slightly. He wasn’t the kind of jerk who took advantage of a woman when her emotional defenses were down. He might want to be that kind of unfeeling ass, but it just wasn’t in him to take advantage of any female like that. Not to mention he had no intention of dragging anyone else into the train wreck of his life. Despite the occasional one-night stand, at the end of the day he wanted to be alone. End of discussion.
Except, a small voice whispered at the back of his head, Maddie feels damned good in your arms.
He ought to invite her into his bed, not for wild bunny sex, but just to hold her and make her feel safe so she could sleep. But panic flitted through him at the idea. No one was allowed into his bedroom. Ever. It was his last retreat, his most private, personal sanctuary.
Instead he offered, “Do you want me to sit with you until you fall asleep?”
One perfectly plucked eyebrow curved up at him. “Do I look like a five-year-old?”
He tilted his head and studied her. “Nah. I’d put you at nine or ten at least.”
Her mouth pursed in disapproval, but her anxious eyes told a different tale altogether. And he noticed she wasn’t making any aggressive move to remove herself from the circle of his arms.
He let her off the hook and announced in a tone that brooked no argument, “You’re lying back down here on the couch, and I’m moving over to that armchair and not budging until I hear you snoring.”
She laughed. “I don’t snore!”
“I bet you do.”
“Do not,” she retorted indignantly.
He grinned down at her. Better. “I’ll let you know.” He let go of her and went to stand. But he hadn’t counted on the lady having other ideas.
“Don’t move,” she whispered, looping her arms around his neck.
“But—”
She cut him off. “I want to listen to your heart beat. It lets me know you’re really alive. When I was swimming to shore—I didn’t know if we would live or die—I was so scared—and it was so dark…”
She’d had some sort of drowning scare? When was that? She was talking as if he already knew about it. Dammit. She’d no doubt confessed all the gory details while he was drunk off his ass. Unfortunately, he wasn’t one of those men who got loud and obnoxious when he was wasted. People often mistook him for being much more sober than he was.
Maybe her big scare was how he’d gotten her into the sack with him in the first place. He’d played the “I can keep you safe, little lady” card. And at one point, that might have been true. Before Arielle got killed—stabbed to death by a stalker fan—when he’d been in charge of her security detail.
Careful not to promise to protect her, he thought and gathered Maddie close. “You’re safe now. Everything’s fine.”
Except
