Page 50 of The Bodyguard

Don’t talk about her ass.

Savannah smirks over her shoulder.

God, she’s fucking sexy.

“About a million times. I worked a lot of late shifts.”

“That’s dangerous.” I frown, reaching over her to put the mayonnaise in the fridge.

“Well, I couldn’t afford a bodyguard then.” Savannah turns to me, and I slowly close the fridge, noticing how short she is in bare feet.

And adorable.

“On the bright side, no one was threatening me.” Her eyes lock with mine and they are full of lust.

Ignore it.

“We’ll find them.” I overpromise.

The truth is, we may not. But I make myself a promise right there and then. I’m not going to let any harm come to Savannah Sinclair.

Unlike the last woman I promised that to.

Her eyes roam over me and I stay deathly still. As if I’m lying in the desert under enemy fire, trying to stay alive.

I’m not sure it’s too different.

This woman is a risk to me.

“Well, if you won’t kiss me, then the least you can do is help me load the dishwasher.” Savannah winks.

“I’ll do you one better,” I say, glancing at the stools behind us.

Then I lift her up as she squeals and place her pretty little ass on one of the stools.

“You sit here and write down a list of people you think could want to rattle you while I do clean up.”

Her smile is too fucking sexy as her head swivels and follows me over to the sink.

“Ryder St. James, admit it. You love carrying me around.”

Yeah, I do.

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AN HOUR LATER, I’m leaning on the counter beside Savannah, and we’ve gone through a long list of people who might have a reason to threaten her.

It’s an emotional task.

One I’ve been through with many clients before.

No one ever wants to believe someone they know, and certainly someone they believe loves them, would do this.

But it happens.

More than people realize.

“I don’t know.” Savannah shakes her head. “My dad’s girlfriend wouldn’t have access to the studio today.”

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