Page 49 of The Bodyguard

I reflect on what I know about Savannah’s life so far. Her family doesn’t support her and, in fact, believes she should be dishing out her money. Her best friend is taking advantage of her. And her co-star is disrespecting her request to stop behaving in certain ways with her employees.

She has an enormous fan base, and many believe she and Nick are a couple. A woman in a prominent media position has a poisonous and jealous dislike for Savannah.

Last, she’s one of the most desired women in the world.

It could be anyone.

Someone she’s not even aware of.

Often, that can be the case.

“Stalkers aren’t necessarily criminals.” I wipe my mouth with my napkin. “They can go undetected for a long time, if not forever.”

“That’s terrifying,” she says, sitting back in her chair, nursing her wine.

“Which is why you have a bodyguard.” I wink.

“Do you think it’s serious? Should I be worried or just take it in my stride and remember this is part of being in Hollywood?”

I hold her eyes for a long moment, then nod.

“Yes, I think it’s serious. Or at least there’s a strong possibility it could be. If it was just the first note, I would’ve said no, but taking your underwear shows a darker side to this person’s psyche.”

In other words, they are fucked up.

I watch as Savannah begins to unravel. She drops her wineglass on the table and her head falls into her hands.

The urge to go to her, pull her into my arms and tell her I’ll protect her is so damn strong I have to force myself to stay in the chair.

Christ.

If she was a man, I wouldn’t be even thinking about it.

She’s a client. She’s a client.

But reassuring a client is part of my job, so I can voice it at the very least.

“No one is getting past me, Savannah.” I growl softly. “I mean it.”

Her eyes lift and god the vulnerability in them is palpable.

Which must be why I add, “If you didn’t notice, I can’t take my eyes off you.”

Fuck.

Goddamn mouth.

“Because it’s your job.” Savannah's voice is no more than a whisper.

A shiver runs through me. The sun is going down and the light in the room has shifted. It’s more intimate now and I realize I’ve stayed later than I should have.

My jaw twitches as I force back every natural instinct. “Sure. Let’s stick with that, sweetheart.”

She smiles softly, knowing as well as I do that’s bullshit. Then glances away and stands, taking our plates from the table.

“I was a waitress for a long time,” she tells me as I grab the condiments from the middle of the table and follow her into the kitchen.

“Oh, yeah?” I say, glad to move on from that conversation. “I bet you got your ass pinched a time or two.”

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