Page 7 of The Sweetmate
At that, I lay my Southern accent on thicker. “I don’t reckon any Lords are strolling ’round Mississippi. Or Tennessee, for that matter. However, there are MDs and PhDs. We got plenty of those.”
“I wouldn’t discredit your celebrity status, sir.”
Celebrity status? I’m flattered.
I give him a smirk and narrow my eyes. “You think I’m a celebrity?”
“They did send me to be your bodyguard until you make it to your destination.” He sighs and continues in his polite yet somehow still bored tone. “Usually, only people of importance need a bodyguard.”
Ha. People of importance. Let’s not kid ourselves. People who also need constant supervision get a bodyguard. He’s basically on babysitting duty. Uncle Brox is pushing hard to ensure this last-ditch effort is a success. It wasn’t my idea to have a bodyguard. Just like it’s not my idea to have a public relationsperson tag along for the final stop of my tour. I’m a free spirit, but the idea of having my time in Chicago broadcast through social media sounds obnoxious.
“You know who else has a bodyguard? Mafia. They’re people of importance. Do you think I could pass for a mobster?”
Jensen merely stares at me. Guess not. My wavy blond hair, which is mostly hidden under a cap, tan skin, bright blue button-up shirt, and khaki shorts make me look more like a surfer.
“Prisoners have guards,” I mumble.
“That they do.”
I drag my feet over to Gate C17 and fall into one of the chairs. I immediately regret it. My ass is going to be bruised. I’ve only been in Chicago for two hours, and I haven’t had a chance to adjust to the time zone from my international tour. With my baseball cap low, I throw my sunglasses on, cross my arms, and lie across the bench chairs. I allow my body to just shut down.
Something jerks my foot, making me aware of the presence of people moving about. I peek my eyes open to see Jensen holding my foot in one hand and my carry-on in the other.Shit.I jump up and don’t see what could be the minion.
“Have you seen the minion?”
He shakes his head and hands me my boarding pass. “Maybe we’ll find them on the plane. I’m seated two rows behind you. The representative from Brunner PR is supposed to be in the seat next to you.”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and they won’t show.”
Again, Jensen just stares at me. Yeah, I probably won’t get that lucky. There’s no telling what uptight bore my uncle has sent after me.
We board the plane and shuffle along the narrow aisle. I turn back to Jensen and say, “Moment of truth. Let’s see what awaits us.”Fingers crossed for an empty seat.
No such luck,butI still feel lucky. In the seat next to mine in first class is the most delicious delicacy. This can’t possibly be who was sent to babysit me. If she is, I’m going to owe my uncle and the universe an enormous thank-you for this sweet little blessing. I’ve never laid eyes on such a sweet face—even if she’s scowling at me. Such an adorable pinch between her eyebrows. I want to ravish her, but that would be a travesty. This divine creature is meant to be cherished. Savored bit by bit. I’d love to spend my time tracing every curve and fine line with my tongue. Tasting every part of her and determining what wine would pair perfectly with each part of her body. A vision of pouring Chardonnay on her pussy and licking the last drop off has my pants getting uncomfortably tight.
“Can I help you? It’s rude to stare.” Her voice is somehow polite, but with a slicing undertone. It fits her. She appears like she’d be gentle yet feisty. I think I’m in love.
“My apologies for staring. It’s just, I think you’re the person I’ve been waiting for.”
There’s a round ofawesand a hushed, “So romantic.”My intended audience, however, narrows her eyes in evident disgust and zero amusement.
“Cute.” She turns in her seat to look down the aisle and then the front of the plane.
“Are you looking for someone, too? It’s me, isn’t it?” I raise my eyebrows because she’s either searching for a flight attendant to ask me to leave orme,because she probably doesn’t realize who I am. At least I hope she’s not this rude to all her clients.
“Yes,” she says shortly.
“Look no further. I have arrived.” I throw my carry-on into the overhead bin and then plop down. Her eyes are wide as she studies me. “Casey.” I grin widely at her and then continue as her cheeks turn pink. “But not gonna lie, I was expectingyou earlier. Did you get stuck in traffic? Security? Did you havesomethingin your bag that you weren’t supposed to or that might’ve have given them reason to search your bag?” I make a tsking sound.
Her throat bobs as she swallows. “You’re Casey?”
I extend my hand. “Casey Riis. Brox Brunner is my uncle, and this is all his idea. You’re a surprise, though. I figured he’d assign a real stickler.” I wink because obviously this girl is wound too tight. I think her brain has exploded with the way she’s gone ghostly white, and her eye is twitching. She doesn’t take my hand, so I snap my fingers and decide to busy myself with buckling my seat belt. “Shit. Did I already break you?”
“No,” she hisses. “You didn’t break me.” Her eyes turn deadly.
Someone is triggered.Note to self: no joking about breaking her. Maybe no jokes, period. Sheesh.
“I was there. I couldn’t findyou. But now I realize you’re the guy I saw sleeping.”
