Page 10 of Crossing the Line
He moved next to her, and they stood shoulder to shoulder. To an outsider, they’d look like a united front. He let her brood, contemplate the unfairness of her lucky life. There were two security cameras that he could see from here. They’d need more and an upgrade to the overall system. He’d have his hands full, but they would all come around, and Waverly would stay safe.
“It must go with the territory,” he answered her.
“So does this,” Waverly sniffled.
He should have seen it coming, but damn if she didn’t catch him off guard. In a move slicker than a ninja’s, Waverly danced in front of him, hooking her arm around his neck. He thought for a split second that she was going to kiss him. And that thought, that anticipation, was enough to slow his reflexes.
She pulled and spun, yanking him off balance. There was no time to save himself, the crystal blue water was rushing up to meet him. But he managed to wrap an arm around her waist and drag her down with him. The heated pool water closed over his head and he heard her laugh. She was grinning at him, her hair floating around her like a golden halo.
She looked like a mermaid. A mermaid who needed to be taught a lesson.
He reached for her, contemplating the satisfaction of drowning her, but she flashed away, her long, slim legs pumping.
By the time he clawed his way to the pool’s edge, she was pulling herself out of the water at the far end.
“How’s that for acting, X?” She blew him a kiss and sauntered off in the direction of the pool house, water streaming from her clothes.
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Waverly cued up a playlist on her phone and paired it to the speaker in the bathroom. She turned on the water in the shower and shucked off her dripping clothes. She tossed them in the claw foot tub to deal with later. The bathroom was miniscule in comparison to any of the eight in the big house, but Sylvia had managed to outfit it with all the luxurious necessities.
When Waverly turned eighteen and asked for access to her trust to buy a house, her mother had insisted she had a better idea. That idea involved a two hundred thousand dollar renovation of the already very nice pool house. Now, Waverly enjoyed a modicum of privacy surrounded by pops of saturated color that reminded her of a candy store and furniture that looked like a sorority pledge class had designed it.
Waverly ducked her head under the stream of water envisioning a soggy Xavier Saint sloshing his way home. She grinned. She may be trapped for the next four months with a babysitter, but at least she’d won a minor yet satisfying victory over him. He’d think twice before trying to play head games with her again.
She was a student of humanity, and for an actor, observation was essential. She excelled at reading people and their intentions. So she knew when Xavier was purposely pushing her buttons. It hadn’t been flirting as some playground bullies still did. It had been more deliberate. Trying to get a rise out of her to show her he was in control.
Well, he hadn’t looked in control when he was floundering around in his suit under water,Waverly congratulated herself.
She probably shouldn’t have done it. There was something about him, something more than stereotypical bodyguard. The way he kept his back to the wall in the morning room, how his gaze constantly scanned for threats—there was training there that hadn’t come from some private security firm. What she couldn’t tell was if he was underestimating her like so many others had or if he was testing her.
She nailed the high note with Taylor Swift and twisted off the faucets with a flourish. After a quick towel dry, she wrapped herself in a short cotton robe and ran a comb through her wet hair. She needed to call Kate, she decided. Between the two of them, they could devise a plan to get rid of Xavier Saint.
Still humming, she strolled into the kitchen.
“Got an extra towel?”
She shrieked and rapped her elbow sharply off of the refrigerator handle. The knife she grabbed sang when she yanked it out of the wooden block on the counter.
Xavier was sitting on her couch his shirt and pants were inexplicably dry. A handgun was stripped down on the coffee table in front of him. His suit jacket hung on a peg just inside the front door dripping a steady patter of pool water onto the tile floor.
“How the hell did you get in here? Why aren’t you wet? Why is there a gun on my table? Are you a freaking magician?”
He looked up at her over the slide of his gun. His eyes were as deadly as the weapon in his hands. “That’s something you’re going to have to get used to about me, Angel. I’m always prepared.”
“My parents gave you a key.” She closed her eyes. They were serious about this security business.
“This morning, before you threw your hissy fit in the parlor.” Oh, he was pissed.
“Morning room,” she corrected him automatically.
He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “And I had a change of clothes and a cleaning kit in the car.” He kept his tone mild, but the way he slammed the magazine back into the gun told her he was good and steamed at her. She’d pushed him pretty far, but not far enough to make him snap.Interesting.
“Were you a Boy Scout?” she wondered out loud.
“Army intelligence,” he replied.
Well, that explained the training…and the haircut. She rubbed her aching elbow and opened the refrigerator. Inside she found the daily pitcher of disgusting green juice that Louie made fresh for her to gag on. She poured herself a small glass and then shot a look into the living room before pulling down a second glass and filling it.
