Page 141 of South Beach Bodyguards

It was a typical property for the area. Low slung, with a Spanish influence, it had been remodeled at some point into a more modern glass box. I could smell the water so even though it was dark I knew her property backed up to the Intracoastal. It wasn’t a massive house or lot at all. More of a pimped-up bungalow, unlike the twenty plus million dollar houses out on the islands. Like Ricardo Davis’s place, Olivia’s brother-in-law. This was not extravagant for a pop star. Lola Brandy got points in my book for spending conservatively.

You know, three million instead of twenty. The thought made me grin as Miranda used the keypad and sent the garage door sailing softly up.

“Nice place,” I commented. “I wouldn’t object to living on the water.”

Miranda nodded. “It is a cool house. Plus there is a dock out back. She had a yacht but wasn’t using it enough to justify it, so it’s this eerie empty spot on the water now.”

“Well, at least she doesn’t keep stuff she doesn’t need. A financially conservative pop star. Who knew there was such a thing?” We went through the garage and entered a door with another keypad code. It led to a mud room, and beyond that was the kitchen.

It was the Miami kitchen classic. White on white on white. Everything shiny and lacquered and crisp. The lights came on automatically when Miranda moved forward and I questioned that little electronic feature. Did I really want the lights to snap on every time I went into the kitchen at night? Sometimes I wanted a midnight snack without the floodlights dilating my pupils.

But I wasn’t a rich guy. Maybe rich people liked to be slapped awake.

Miranda had packed a small bag. I had nothing with me obviously but I didn’t need anything but her naked anyway. She set the bag on the kitchen counter and turned, leaning back against it. She looked nervous and curious and sexy as hell. “The guest room is the first door on the left. Lola’s only request is that no one stays in her master bedroom.”

“She’s smart to keep her room off-limits.” I gave her a smile. “Because what I’m going to do to you is filthy.”

For being a woman who had traveled all over the country and the world, mingling with the rich and famous, Miranda had maintained a sweet innocence. She blushed at my words, despite what had gone down between us already. I wondered how many men she had dated in the years since Max disappeared and then decided that was an irrelevant thought. Whoever they had been they weren’t around now. Only I was.

“Is that a promise or a threat?” she asked.

“Both.”

She studied me for a second, a slight smile teasing across her lips. I wanted to cross the room, bite that plump skin and tug her against me. But I also wanted to draw the moment of anticipation out. “Do you want a drink? I can run out and get some wine.”

“I’m sure there is something here. The house is usually pretty well stocked.” Miranda went and opened the fridge. It was filled with sparkling water, juice, and white wine. “No beer though.”

“Do you like wine?” I came up behind her and pressed my body against hers. I reached around her and pulled out a bottle. It was crisp and cold and I pressed the chilled glass against her arm.

She jerked a little but didn’t totally pull away. “Yes. Should we have a toast?”

I lifted the hair at the back of her neck and gave her a soft kiss. She shivered. “Yes, we should toast,” I said. “To forgetting about the shit from the past and grabbing the future.”

Miranda turned. “Well, wait until we have glasses before you give the actual toast. And let’s go outside on the patio.”

She had a point. “I’ll get some glasses.” It was an easy kitchen to maneuver around in. There was zero clutter. The cabinets were filled with white dinnerware and clear stemware. It only took me opening three cabinets to find a dozen or so wine glasses carefully lined up. I pulled out two and righted them on the sparkly white countertop. Then I started digging around for a corkscrew.

Miranda bent over the countertop, propping her chin up, her hair falling over her arm, and her shirt gaping so that I got an amazing view of her tits. Full and creamy and begging for attention. “I can see down your shirt,” I told her.

“I know. That’s why I bent over.”

That made me laugh. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you? I can honestly say I didn’t see that coming. You’ve been playing coy. Of course I didn’t see that coming any more than I saw you saying you want a baby.”

I wanted to touch her but I resisted. This was time to watch her. To learn her movements, her body language.

She just studied me as I kept searching. “I would say I’m sorry for springing that on you but really, what other way is there to do it? I thought about it a lot and then I just blurted it out.”

“You’re so domestic I would have thought you’d send me one of those damn packages people do for weddings now. Like butterflies emerging out of a box that says ‘Will you be my baby daddy?’”

She laughed. “That sounds horrible!”

Finally I found the elusive corkscrew and pulled it out. “I got one for my buddy’s wedding. His wife was behind that shit, she had to be. Because I’m telling you, Laurence would not have sent me a box of golf tees and some freaking card that said ‘Let’s tee off for my wedding’ or whatever the hell it said.”

“Maybe that works more for bridesmaids, you know, the whole elaborate presentation. Because if someone sent me a box of bath salts and a note, I would be touched.”

“Maybe just send me the golf tees and then ask me later. Or ask me then give me a dude gift at the bachelor party.” I opened the wine bottle with a pull.

“So what would a baby daddy box look like? Was I supposed to send you Viagra?” she teased.

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