Bodyguards In Bed

Good God, she’d hit the freaking lottery. Her job was to pick him up and take him to a hotel where she’d have to babysit him until tomorrow morning, when he’d meet with the prosecutor to go over his testimony. Then, back to the hotel with him until he was called to testify at the trial, one or two days max.

Heavens. Her guardian angel had obviously ended her strike and was working overtime to kiss her ass today. Suddenly, she decided she liked hazy days, after all. Well, this one, anyway.

“My car is out front.” She talked as they walked, her hand still wrapped around that spectacular muscled arm. “All the town cars were out, so I hope you don’t mind. It’s small, but runs fine, and the A/C works. Some of the time.”

He stopped. “Wait a minute—”

“You have more than a carry-on?”

He shook his head. “No, it’s just that—”

“You’re hungry,” she said, giving his arm a tug as she guided him toward the exit. “I get it. The food in coach sucks.”

He looked down at her and frowned. Stopping again, he said, “I think you have—”

“Come on. I’m in a no-parking zone and don’t want to get towed.”

His frown deepened, and for a split second, she thought he might try to fire her. She understood. What kind of bodyguard parked in a no-parking zone? One who had exactly twelve dollars and thirty-two cents in her wallet and couldn’t afford to pay the ridiculously high airport parking fees, that’s who, but she kept that bit of information to herself.

“Look, we really do have to hurry.”

Something about his demeanor changed, but she didn’t know him well enough to decipher his body language. He looked around, and then his body stiffened beside her. He muttered a soft curse, then asked, “Where are you parked, again?”

Before she could answer him, he took her hand and started toward the exit. With her flip-flops slapping loudly, she ran to keep up with him, but ded that was okay. She’d follow this guy just about anywhere if it meant spending more time getting to know him—even if he was essentially, a rat. A gorgeous, make-your-heart-stop rat.

FBI Special Agent Noah Temple had no idea who the two thugs were who’d picked up the name placard that the ditzy blonde following behind him had tossed aside. They weren’t the good guys, that much he did know. And neither of them was Charles Rolston.

He snuck one last look over his shoulder before heading for the exit, in time to see the biggest of the two thugs approach the crowd of chauffeurs. When one of the drivers jerked his thumb in their direction, Noah held tightly on to the blonde’s hand and pushed through the door, but not before the shorter of the two goons spotted them.

“I’m over there,” she said, pointing to a faded blue Honda that looked close to fifteen years old.

He dragged her behind him to the car, praying the vehicle was more reliable than it appeared. “What’s your name?” he asked after tossing his bag on the backseat.

She slid behind the wheel and slammed her door shut. “Alyssa Cardellini.” She stuck out her hand in his direction. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rolston.”

“Mr. Rolston?” No, he wasn’t, but he’d straighten that out later. All she needed to know was that two hired guns were barreling toward the exit.

“Charles, then,” she said, her hand still extended.

He gave her hand a cursory shake. Otherwise, he had a feeling she’d never start the car and get them the hell out of there. “You need to go. Now.”

She gave him a curious look, then flashed a smile at him. If he wasn’t worried about the two hired thugs, he would’ve found her smile appealing, but for the moment, their continued survival outranked an interesting female.

“It’s okay,” she said. “The reservation is paid for, so there’s no late check-in penalty to worry about. We have plenty of time.”

He reached over and took the keys from her hand, then shoved them in the ignition. “No, we don’t,” he said, and turned the key. The faded blue Honda fired up on the first try, for which he was grateful.

“Hey!”

“See those two guys by the exit?”

She turned in her seat to look behind them. “Yeah. So?”

“So, they’re after us. Pull out slowly,” he said. “Don’t draw too much attention.”

She nodded briskly and snapped her seatbelt into place. “Got it.” She jammed the car into drive, hit the blinker, then pulled away from the curb and snaked her way into traffic.

Noah used the side mirror to keep his eyes on the pair of muscle. They looked directly at the car. Before he could pull in his next breath, the pair took off at a dead run in the opposite direction.