Page 59 of South Beach Bodyguards

The gun disappeared under his suit jacket. I swallowed hard, relieved. Maybe I should have requested yard access or something. He started moving toward me and I realized Mariposa was padding along side of him. Well, well. This must be Wester the dog guard. It made me snicker in the dark. It was so silly and pretentious of my brother-in-law to hire protection for his pet, yet so typical.

“Is it potty time?” I asked. “Which is like Hammer Time but for dogs.” It was a dumb joke, but I didn’t think it warranted the frown he gave me.

“I’m not qualified for this,” he said. “I don’t know anything about dogs.” He sounded cranky as hell.

But then he stepped into the light directly in front of me and I forgot all about his saltiness. Eva was right. Wester was… delicious. He was tall and broad, but still lean, filling out his trim suit perfectly. He had the build of a MMA fighter, with a tapered waist and not an ounce of fat. His jaw was strong, his cheekbones dramatic. But it was his eyes that arrested me. That made me suddenly very much aware of the fact that I was naked under my robe. That I had no panties on. None.

Those eyes were the color of the Caribbean Sea, when the waves crashed over the bleached sand, washing out the cerulean of the blue to an icy crispness. He was fucking beautiful. There was no other way to describe him. He was sex on a stick and I wanted a bite. Why hadn’t I made more time to date? Because now all I could think was that I hadn’t had a boyfriend in six months, which meant on average, I was missing out on thrice-weekly sex. So six months times four weeks times three orgasms meant I had a deficit of seventy-two orgasms. That was no joke. A little self-love once a month hadn’t done shit to ease the ache I was now feeling just from being alone in the dark with a hot guy.

“I think Mariposa is fairly independent,” I said, realizing I needed to respond to his comment. “She’ll set the lead for you.”

He shifted on his feet, looking as restless as I felt. “Yeah, well, this isn’t normally my job.”

“What is?” I was curious. He looked like a man who was simmering under the surface with any number of emotions. I didn’t know men like Wester, despite my occasional visits into my sister’s strange new world. I spent my time around college students and bartenders. Aging Latin men who smiled when they sang karaoke. Not dangerous, brooding men who had excess energy that seemed ready to burst forth at any given second.

It was hot. It definitely was hot, and I was like any other woman when faced with a bad boy—I was completely intrigued and attracted to him.

He gave me a slow, wicked grin. “Protecting the not-so-innocent. Mariposa is too sweet for me and my usual clients. Though maybe I shouldn’t be insulting Ricardo.”

I couldn’t help it. I rolled my eyes. “There is nothing innocent about Ricardo.” I watched Wester pace a little, the caged animal in a sharp suit. “Do you want to sit down?” I patted the chair next to me.

Glancing back at the house, he seemed to ponder the concept. He studied the dog, who was sniffing her way around a potted banana plant. “Sure.”

That surprised me. I had actually thought he would either disappear back into the house or continue to stay standing. A bloom of pleasure spread over my body, the heat settling into my cheeks, my inner thighs. Embarrassed, I pulled my robe tighter as my nipples tightened beneath the terry cloth. There was no way he could know I was literally hot under the collar, but I would die if he did figure it out.

But he didn’t sit on the lounge chair next to me. He gracefully dropped down onto my chair, his hand brushing over my bare knee to shift my legs out of the way. What the hell… I cleared my throat as he undid the button on his suit coat and spread his legs. His body crowded my space, and I studied his profile in shock and interest. I couldn’t figure out his background. He looked to be a blend of white European, Haitian, Latin. I wasn’t sure. Whatever magical combination of ethnicities, it was a combination that should be repeated over and over again because he was just fucking gorgeous. There was enough lust coursing through my veins to rival a fourteen year old boy with the Victoria’s Secret Christmas catalog. What a beautiful package.

He turned and caught me staring. He smiled, his teeth pearly white but slightly crooked. “What?” he asked.

“You’re very pretty,” I told him, unable to prevent myself from blurting out the truth. God, I sounded like Eva. She was always the one who spoke with such simplicity. She was like the little kid who said “I like your face” to the old man in the grocery store. People actually loved that about her, but it wasn’t normally me. I kept my thoughts to myself, unless they were sarcastic. Snark I can dole out all day long.

Wester just winked at me. “So are you.” His hand shifted onto my knee and he stroked my bare flesh. “You are very, very pretty.”

Oh, God. His voice was low, sexy, hypnotizing. I heard myself sigh and I moistened my lips, wondering what the hell was happening.

His hand fell away. “But Mariposa kicks both our asses.”

That made me laugh, relieved to have the sexual tension killed. I couldn’t figure out if he was flirting or just being friendly. Or sucking up to the boss’s sister-in-law. “I can’t compete with a squished face.”

“No one can.” He flicked a finger over my book. “What are you reading?”

I lifted the cover up to show me. “Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince.” Let him think I was a nerd. I didn’t care. I loved Harry Potter and was on my third reread of the entire series. It was an awesome brain break from labs and studying.

“That might have been my favorite because you’re seeing Harry wrestle with the temptation of the dark side. I think he understands Valdemort more than he did as a kid in the earlier books.”

I stared at Wester. He was suddenly now the most sexiest man on the planet. I wanted to give an astonished “you read these books?” kind of declaration but that was rude. I knew nothing about him. There was no reason to think that just because he was a bodyguard he didn’t read in his spare time. “Agreed. Also, we have the hints of there being more to Snape than just pure bad guy as well. Plus it becomes obvious Dumbledore has secrets. How do you know who is good and who is bad in a world that has shades of gray?”

“That’s the horcrux of it all.”

No, he didn’t. Laughter spilled out before I could stop myself. “Very punny. You’re a clever guy, Wester.” A thought occurred to me. “Is that your first name or last name?”

“It’s my first name.”

I was about to tell him my name but his hand was suddenly on my leg. It had traveled from my knee up my thigh and was most definitely underneath the fabric of my robe. This was unexpected. As was the fact that his opposite hand came up to my cheek and cupped my flesh, his callused thumb stroking gently. His eyes were unreadable.

“I would like to kiss you,” he said.

Um… okay? This never happened to me. Gorgeous men in suits didn’t just sit down next to me, call me beautiful, and ask to kiss me like it was actually important to them. If he had been joking and laughing and flirting in a traditional manner, then I would’ve taken his hand, pulled it down, and told him to slow it down, Don Juan. But his intensity had me speechless.

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