Page 117 of South Beach Bodyguards

“Hey. What is going on? For real?”

Finally she stopped avoiding my gaze and we locked eyes. With a little sniff she whispered, “What do you mean?”

“I’m coming in your room and you’re going to tell me why you are here, in Miami. Not the partial truth. The whole truth.”

Her eyelashes dropped, veiling her amber eyes. She tried to laugh, but it was brittle. “Don’t you want to go back to Lola? I think you could get lucky with a pop star if you take your shirt off again.”

“I know that. But that wouldn’t answer my questions about you.” I reached out and tugged the end of her hair and gave her a smile. “Don’t look so scared. You know I’m harmless.” Unlike my brother. “You just totally caught me off guard tonight and I want to know what’s up. The full story.”

“There’s no full story. I just want to be a mother. I’m sorry I sprung it on you the way I did.” She stood back up and opened the door. “Why don’t you think about it and call me in a few days?”

But I put my hand on the door. She wasn’t getting off the hook that easy. I hadn’t seen her in three years and she had dropped a bomb on me. “Miranda.”

“What?” she asked, flustered.

“Talk to me.” Maybe I was pushing. Maybe I should walk away. But the majority of my life I had learned that if I was persistent I could get what I wanted in the end.

That was probably the one thing my brother and I had in common. Then again, Max never tried to coax. He just took. That wasn’t my style.

I may not have ever gotten Miranda, but then again, I’d never tried. This was my chance. She had opened the door and I was going to stroll right in. I could feel it—that persistent desire spiraling out of control. Every feeling I’d ever had, every fantasy about her, felt like it was within reach if I played this all right. But first, I had to get her talking again.

She sighed and stepped into her room. “Get in here. I’m not having a conversation in the hallway. I may have left the tour but I still don’t want everyone knowing my business.”

I nodded and followed her. My shirt was still unbuttoned and loose over my waistband. It was a little ridiculous given that I was also carrying a gun, but this was my life. Hell, this was Miami. Over-the-top. Miranda’s room was small but still pretty damn glam to my eye. It was modern, lots of white on white on white, and the drapes were open. She didn’t have a view of the water, but the downtown skyline, and I walked over to it, appreciating the view from the vantage point. “It looks like you get to travel in style on the tour,” I said.

“Yeah, Lola has been good to her team. Usually I have a roommate but they gave me a solo room since I won’t be here for the show tomorrow night.” Miranda came up beside me and looked out the window. “I did miss Miami. There is nothing like it anywhere else. The lights are so beautiful,” she murmured.

But I was watching her, taking in her profile. “You’re beautiful.”

She gave a startled soft laugh. “Oh geez. Thanks.”

“It’s true.” I leaned against the wall, cramming my hands into my pockets so I refrained from touching her. “You know I’ve always thought that. You know I always had a thing for you.”

I half expected her to deny it. To bluster and act shocked. But she nodded. “I know. But I also know that you’ve outgrown it.”

Her statement sounded more like a question. I shook my head. “I haven’t grown out of thinking you’re beautiful.”

I saw her visibly swallow. “Are you seeing anyone?”

“I see a lot of someones,” I said truthfully. “But no one special and never for very long.”

“And why is that?”

“I’m sharing the wealth.” I gave her a smirk. “What about you? No boyfriend?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you what I did if that were the case.” Miranda went over to the bed and sat down. She reached down to undo her strapped-on heels. “I haven’t really had time to date.”

That made me frown. “Are you telling me you haven’t dated since Max?” I knew the answer. She still had his damn picture on her phone.

She shook her head. “Not really. It’s been hard to move on.”

I stayed by the window. I wanted to appear casual even though I felt anything but. “Then maybe asking me to give you a baby isn’t the best way to make that happen. I am his brother.” Unfortunately. “Every time you look at a kid, you’re going to think of me. And him.”

Then it hit me. That was the point. This wasn’t about me at all. It wasn’t like she thought I was a nice guy and had good genes. She wanted Max, and I was the next best thing. Fuck me. My nostrils flared.

Miranda stood up and went over to the mirror to undo the clip on the top of her hair. She was avoiding looking at me. “Why does everyone think I’m supposed to hit the one-year mark and just be able to move on? Grief doesn’t work that way.” She threw down the clip and shook her hair loose.

“There’s grief and then there’s flat-out denial.”

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