of strangers.
Didn’t matter now. All he had to do was keep Nicola Barrington from getting under his skin too much in the next couple of days. Shouldn’t take more than that for the rest of his team to pick up the shooter. Between the license plate number for the brown van and the bullets the shooter had left in the pavement at the market, he’d be traced before long.
He should have taken out both men right in the parking lot. Could have from where he was parked, but his primary objective was to keep Nicola safe, which meant getting her away from the attackers rather than engaging them. Damn. He wasn’t used to playing the bodyguard. He was more of a seek-and-destroy man.
But guard her he would, even if it meant hiding in the country and sitting on his hands. He would do whatever it took to convince the Colonel that he was ready to be shipped out. He just had to sit tight and refuse to allow her to become a distraction. Piece of cake. He could handle it.
IF SHE HAD TO WATCH Alex do one more push-up, she’d scream. Nicola squirmed on the couch, pretending to read. He did fifty more; with one hand behind his back. Then he started on the sit-ups. She would have had two heart attacks and a stroke by now if she had to do all that. She wasn’t very athletic. The only sport she had ever played was baseball, and even at that she was only semi-successful. She was a great pitcher but lousy at running.
She exercised regularly, her Tai Chi and at the gym, but it was nothing like what Alex was doing now. She envied his sinuous body. And lusted after it. In the worst way.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if he weren’t wearing those stupid butt-hugging Army fatigues he had changed into from his blue jeans and the unnecessarily tight long-sleeved black T-shirt. She, of course, had to make do with an oversize gray drawstring sweatsuit that made her look like a pregnant elephant. Who the hell stocked these safe houses, anyway?
Okay, so maybe it was partially her fault. She had spilled the stupid Ramen noodles on her lap. Not completely without provocation—she’d been severely distracted. He had been taking off his dirt-and grease-covered jeans in the bathroom to put on a pair of complimentary pants from the hall closet. She had found it hard to concentrate on her bowl when the man was getting naked next door.
At least he had let her take off the vest. She had thought she would have to sleep in it. Which brought to mind the sleeping arrangements. She couldn’t think of any scenario she felt comfortable with.
Now that she had a chance to calm down, this morning’s events didn’t seem as scary. The terrorists had made an attempt and missed. The one who still remained would know she was watched and protected. It would be stupid of him to come back.
She wanted her life to return to normal as soon as possible. “Do you think this is really necessary?”
He gave no indication that he heard her.
She hated to be ignored. “If you’re my bodyguard that means I am the boss, right?”
He threw her a look that started out as amused, then turned into something else entirely. “If I was your maid or your chauffeur, you’d be the boss.”
She thought his voice was unnecessarily sharp. Maybe it was her imagination, but the air seemed to have been charged with electricity between them all day. She had half expected her hair to start standing up. As much as Alex had assured her that he was there to protect her, every time he came near, her instincts screamed, Run for your life.
For the past couple of weeks, he’d been an unattainable fantasy, a gorgeous stranger she’d discreetly ogled to take her mind off the pain in her thighs as she suffered on the treadmill. And now here they were. Together.
He was too much—too strong, too tall…too sexy. She had no idea what to do with him, how to relate to him. Men like Alex weren’t exactly common in her life. Other than her middle-aged married neighbors, the only men she associated with were strictly business acquaintances. Well, other than Richard, one of her father’s aides. But Richard had never made her feel like Alex did. Like she wanted to jump out of her skin.
As the U.S. ambassador’s daughter in China, she had been watched constantly, left with few opportunities to socialize with boys her age. When her family had returned to the States, her father had shipped her off to a women’s college. Her mother had been gravely ill by then, so she spent her weekends at home missing the coed parties.
Then came Richard the Slime. She must have been pretty pathetic to fall so in love with someone who wanted nothing from her other than her father’s favor. After the breakup she’d sworn she wasn’t ever going to come within a hundred feet of a government man. It scared her how little judgment she had when it came to the opposite sex—Richard first, and now Alex, some kind of a secret agent.
The key was not to think of him as a man she was attracted to. If she pretended he was a business opponent, maybe she would have better luck with summoning her courage to stand up to him.
She was the one with her life at stake. She wanted to be part of whatever decisions were to be made. No, not just part of. She wanted to be the one who made them.
“Could we at least go home to get some of my things? I need to keep my business running.”
He shook his head.
“It wouldn’t take long and you’d be there to protect me.”
He ignored her.
“You said I could leave anytime I wanted.”
“Didn’t want to have to fight with you in the middle of a chase.”
She came to her feet. “You lied?”
“You should have known better than to start an argument and try to distract me while people were shooting at us.”
“Of all the highhanded—” She moved toward the back door. As indignation filled her, she didn’t find him nearly as intimidating. “I can walk out of here right now. I don’t need your permission.”
He threw her a challenging look. “You think you can get through me?”
Ohh, that did it. “Are you telling me I’m a prisoner and there’s nothing I can do about it?” She welcomed the anger that replaced her earlier mix of confused emotions. She felt much more comfortable being angry at the man than mooning after him.
“You’re in protective custody. Appreciate it.”
She stopped and leaned against the wall with her arms folded, noting the small dark triangle of sweat on the back of his shirt. Who the hell did he think he was to order her around?
His forehead touched his knees with each sit-up, his combat boots planted firmly on the floor. His movements were smooth and efficient; she could almost feel the tightly coiled power in his body. A military man, no doubt, but tougher and older than the Marines who had guarded the embassy in Beijing. She figured him to be in his mid to late thirties.
“Are you a Navy SEAL?”
He stopped for a moment and looked at her, his dark eyes assessing, the tone of his voice light when he spoke. “Would that make you more comfortable?”
“You telling me the truth would make me feel more comfortable.” Although she had less chance of that than a bucket of Häagen-Dazs in hell. That was not how government men operated.
