Page 28 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
She was so delicate, so soft. It would be so easy for someone to grab her and overpower her... toss her in a trunk, drive her out into the countryside or woods somewhere and—
My teeth ground together so hard my jaw was getting sore. I forced my mind back to work. “How’s everything else?” I asked Gray. “How’s the Hood project coming along?”
“Great. The old lady’s a hoot. She’s quite a collector, and her house is a masterpiece. You don’t sound too good though. You okay? You sound kind of like you’re in pain.”
Jessica flipped over and swam across the surface of the bay, doing a slow crawl stroke away from me, her long smooth legs propelling her forward and her bottom bobbing just below the surface of the clear water.
I chuckled. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just a little... keyed up.”
She dove under the water again. This time she didn’t come up right away. I started jogging down the dock back toward the beach.
“Listen Gray, I’ve gotta go, but keep me informed. I want to know everything as soon as you do.”
“Will do boss. Talk to you later,” Gray said. “And try to relax a little. You sound like you’re on the verge of a stroke.”
Maybe I was. Jessica had resurfaced so I was no longer worried about her drowning. I was however a little concerned with the rhythm of my heart.
How was it supposed to withstand several days, much less weeks or evenmonthshere alone with her?
Chapter Ten
A Matter of Self-Preservation
Wilder
When we returned to the house, I checked the exterior then locked the door from the inside and set the alarm.
It was unnecessary—there was no question we were on the island alone, and my radar system would alert me if a boat was approaching the island when it was still miles away—but the lockdown routine soothed me nevertheless.
“Want me to make us some dinner?” Jessica asked, walking into the kitchen.
Her hair had air-dried into touchable waves, and the tops of her cheeks and nose were pink from the sun. Her coverup skimmed her thighs, drawing my gaze down her legs to her tiny bare feet.
Everything about her appealed to me more than any woman ever had in my life. Thelastthing I needed in this state of mind was to spend a quiet evening alone with her.
“Actually, I’m just going to turn in early,” I said. “I’m more tired than hungry. You must be beat, too, after traveling all day and then swimming.”
She nodded. “Not really. But if you’re not gonna eat, I’ll just fix something simple for myself then take a bath and go to bed too.”
And now I’m thinking of Jessica Bailey in a bathtub.Not good.
Picturing her beautiful body spread out across my bed was even worse.
“Goodnight, Wilder,” she said sweetly, oblivious to the dirty turn my thoughts had taken.
“Good night. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”
The next morning, and for several days after that, I did my best to keep my distance. Even from afar, though, her powerful allure tempted me.
She started every day with a session of beach yoga.Ask me how I know.
If there was anything sexier than Jessica Bailey bending and stretching and twisting in the sand at sunrise, I’d liked to have seen it.
I mean, I’dreallylike to see it because I needed something to pry my eyeballs away from that sight.
Even holed up in my office “working” it was impossible not to hear her playing piano in the other room—or singing in the shower. The house was absolutely filled with her—there was nowhere I could escape her presence or her voice or her scent, an intoxicating combination of vanilla and ylang ylang that lingered lightly even when she wasn’t in the room.
And the sunbathing. The fucking sunbathing was going to drive me insane.
