Page 24 of Not the Bodyguard's Widow
“Are you craving her friendship bread?”
“Maybe.”
“Anything else you need me to know?”Why did you have my name on the mirror?
“Not really. I mean, thank you for being so kind and everything.”
“But?”What is going on? Is it the baby? Should I take you to the hospital?Sympathy for his brother-in-law filled him. No wonder Preston was a wreck. There was three times as much to worry about.
Kimberly shook her head. “It’s nothing. I shouldn’t have put your name on the list.”
“Would it help if you called me Alex?”
Kimberly tilted her head and blinked.
“I mean, I call you Kimberly instead of Mrs. Thompson. I usually call my clients by their formal names, but in light of things...”
“Candace calls you Alex. What do the rest of your clients call you?”
“Most of them call me Mr. Alexander. Mrs. Ogilvie calls me Alex because she spent too much time with Abbie. I call her Mrs. Ogilvie mostly to annoy her.”
Kimberly laughed. “Would you be more comfortable if I called you Alex?”
“You can call me whatever you wish.”
“As long it isn’t late to dinner?”
“More like late when you need a bodyguard.”
“Oh.” Kimberly turned her back, put her glass in the dishwasher, and started for the back hallway.
“Kimberly?”
She stopped but didn’t turn around.
“Are you okay?”
She nodded and kept walking.
Alex frowned. She’d lied. Was the lie a little one or a big one?
9
Sittingon the end of her bed, Kimberly turned the phone over, wanting to call Candace but not wanting to interrupt whatever amazing thing she was doing in London. A tear splashed on the blank screen. Stupid hormones. Mr. Alexander, er, Alex must think her a complete ninny. Crying because of his kindness again. Not that she’d wish him to be like Jax in a million years. Even before Jeremy’s death, Jax had scared her, always watching, always spying. Showing up where and when she least expected it. The tingly horror-movie don’t-go-in-there feeling that came with Jax’s presence kept her on edge every moment of the day and some nights, when she wondered where he was watching from.
Kimberly laid down and let the tears run their course. For a moment she wished Jeremy was there to hold her. But he hadn’t held her in the comforting way she wanted him to since the first miscarriage. Last night, Alex had held her and let her cry. Would he hold her again if she asked him?
The doorbell rang, and something flashed on her phone screen. A doorbell camera. Mrs. Capps stood on the porch with a plate covered in a flour-sack towel. Alex answered the door.
Kimberly checked her reflection in the mirror.
Alex met her halfway down the hall. “Mrs. Capps is here.”
“I saw. Do you mind if I talk with her privately?”
“No problem. Let’s explain the secrecy around you being here first.”
Kimberly nodded.
