Page 58 of Not the Bodyguard's Princess
Andrew noted Jordan’s changed demeanor. It was close to her real self, only controlled. “Is this what you really want to do?”
“Of course.”
Lifting a lemon cookie, Andrew studied Jordan’s face rather than the makeshift checkerboard. “You don’t need to act around me. Tonight has been traumatic. It’s okay to be the real Jordan.”
Jordan shrugged and moved a strand of hair over her shoulder. “You are the first person to call me on that in a long time. I think it used to be more obvious when I was little.”
Andrew set his cookie down.
“I started playing different roles when my parents disappeared. The media as a whole was super invasive. Pretending I was someone else came naturally, and I could always pretend that Mom and Dad would be home at any moment. I used to watchGilligan’s Islandreruns and imagine them trying to get off some deserted isle. Now when I need courage, I slip into different roles. I do it more than I thought. But even when I’m acting, I’m still me. I’m just me playing a role.” Jordan moved a cookie.
It was too early in the game to have much strategy. Andrew took his time with his move so he could process what she was saying. “At first I thought it was weird that you played roles when you were stressed. Then I realized everyone does it. The last people you want to play poker with are a bunch of bodyguards. We can wear a blank face like no one else.”
They played in silence for several rounds. “Blake uses a blank face, but there’s a twitch around his left eye when he’s hiding something.” Jordan hopped one of his checkers and held it up to her mouth. “My dietitian is going to be on me like a drill instructor when I get home.”
“No comment.” Andrew moved one of his last pieces.
“And there’s your bodyguard face.” Hop, hop, hop. “I won.” She covered her mouth as she yawned.
Andrew gathered up the remaining cookies and wiped the board off the table. “After we eat, you can use September’s room. I’ll be down here until the rest of the team shows up.”
Jordan pulled the pot pies out of the oven. “Dinner, such as it is.”
“Not used to this fare?”
“I have a nutritionist in LA who plans most of my meals.” Jordan cut her pie in half. “I’m already way over her recommended daily calorie intake with the cookie games.”
Andrew transferred his pie to a plate.
After they finished their meal, Jordan yawned again. “Do you think September has an extra toothbrush?”
“I have one. Just a moment.” Out in the garage, Andrew pulled his go-bag out of his trunk, glad he’d restocked it.
Jordan waited in the living room. “What is that?”
“My go-bag. I keep one in my trunk at all times.” He set it on the coffee table and pulled out a bag of travel-sized toiletries. “Take anything you need. I have an open toothbrush in another bag. You might need these. I’m sure the shorts are too big, but they have a drawstring.” He set the pile next to his bag, mostly so he didn’t have to touch her. Jordan brought out a distinctly unprofessional side of him.
She held up the dark-blue Hastings security T-shirt. It reached halfway to her knees. Andrew pushed the image from his mind. The last thing he needed to think of was Jordan in bed in his shirt.
“Thank you. I wasn’t looking forward to sleeping in my clothes since I have to wear them again tomorrow.”
“I can text Deidre and have her pick up something at an all-night big-box store.”
“That’s okay. Hopefully the detective will let me get my clothes out of the room tomorrow.” Jordan held the bundle of clothes to her chest and studied him for a long moment. “Good night, Andrew, and thanks for taking care of me today.”
“Good night, Jordan. Sleep well.” Even if he could go to bed, he wouldn’t sleep. Thoughts of Jordan would keep him awake.
22
It could have been her.
Images of Tonie and Princess lying on the hotel’s green faux-tile linoleum floor wouldn’t leave Jordan’s mind. She rolled over again and checked the clock. Two hours of tossing and turning. Enough.
It could have been her.
Well, probably not. She rarely drank from disposable water bottles. Jordan sat up. Could it be? Was someone after her bodyguards and not her?
She tossed the covers back and ran downstairs. Andrew sat on the couch, reading a book. “I don’t think someone is after me. I think they are after you.”
