Page 216 of Duty and Desire
“Probably seen people doing all sorts of crazy things. My messy bedroom probably doesn’t even really rate.”
Another blink.
“You know, men usually have to take me out to dinner before they get to see my underwear,” I joked.
The man just stared.
Oh, God.“I shouldn’t have said that. That was really inappropriate. I’m so sorry. When I get nervous I tend to blather and nothing that comes out is ever any good.”
“It’s fine, miss.”
“I’m usually much more together than this. I don’t–”
“I’m going to leave now.”
I took a breath. “Um, yeah. That might be for the best.”
“If you could be sure to lock the door after me and use the security system?”
“Of course. Sorry again.”
He turned to go, then paused, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “I forgot to ask, have you decided upon your movements tomorrow?”
“Nothing much until my lunch appointment.”
“I’ll be here at nine then. There’s a few jobs I’d like to do before we head out.”
“Okay.”
And I definitely did not imagine his gaze returning to the hand holding my black silk thong. It was for the briefest of moments. If I blinked, I would have missed it. But I didn’t. Maybe I’d scarred the man for life by inadvertently flashing my underwear. Maybe he couldn’t believe what a train wreck I was. Or maybe he just liked looking at women’s lingerie. I don’t know.
Then he was gone. Ziggy sure could move fast when motivated.
Generally speaking, I didn’t tend to go around scaring grown men. Especially not former Marines. Though I wasn’t sure how else to interpret what just happened. Down the hallway, the front door clicked shut and I sighed. Maybe he’d send someone else tomorrow. He’d have to be a brave man to come back for more.
CHAPTER 3
“Morning, Ziggy.”
“Morning, Miss Cooper.”
Giant-ass size mug of coffee in hand, I shuffled back into the spare bedroom, where an abundance of packing boxes awaited. “Are the hordes still downstairs?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Great. Must be a slow news week.”
And details of my gruesome bloody delivery had indeed spread everywhere. Having been bombarded with messages and calls, I’d made the smart decision to mute my cell. After first posting a behind-the-scenes picture from the recent shoot in New Orleans on Instagram and calling my mom, of course. She’d been horrified and pressed to come stay with me. I barely managed to convince her it wasn’t necessary. I needed some space to deal with things right now and having Ziggy and all his hotness in my face was already more than I could handle. I knew my mom would take over the place with a lot of good intentions but not much awareness of my slowly growing freak-out, barely being kept under control.
No, thank you.
Also, she had enough going on planning her wedding to Dr. Jane next month. A wonderful woman, and they made a great couple. Mom deserved much happiness after all those years of raising me on her own. Teenage girls could be hellacious and I’d been no exception. So many hormones bouncing around inside. Besides which, girls could be mean. It had been a tough time for everyone.
And speaking of hotness getting all up in my face, my bodyguard looked as slick as ever in his obviously custom-tailored black suit. Guess carrying a gun around in a holster necessitated the tailoring. I, on the other hand, wore my favorite boyfriend jeans, an old Ramones tee, messy bun, and concealer to hide the sleep deprivation bruising beneath my eyes. I had at least showered. Bonus points to me.
“Will you still be going to lunch with Mrs. Ferris?” he asked.
I cocked my head. “What’s your professional opinion? I’d been looking forward to it. There’s this cool new place we were going to try. But…”
