Before he could act on that impulse, the sound of several locks scraping sounded from the other side of the door. Clint released the breath he’d held without realizing it and clasped his hands behind his back, shaking his head at himself and wondering when he’d gotten so high-strung.
The door opened to Tara standing there, her phone to one ear as she waved him inside. Her pretty face looked a bit more drawn and anxious than he remembered from earlier that day, and he started to wonder if maybe his earlier thoughts about the attacker contacting her weren’t so far off the mark after all. He stepped into a small foyer and waited while she closed the door behind him and finished her call. Once she’d ended it, Clint gave a slight bow and small smile. “Your bodyguard, reporting for duty.”
Tara shoved her phone into the pocket of the pink hoodie she was wearing, then set about relocking all those locks. Three that he could see. Then she swallowed hard and faced him again, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Why?” He turned to face her, concerned at the hint of panic in her voice. “Did something happen?”
“Uh, no. Not exactly.” She sidled past him, then led him down a short hall and into a large, open concept living room. This room had obviously been updated and renovated through the years, though many elements of the classic Tudor-style architecture were still present thanks to exposed pipes in the ceiling and brick on the walls. This place had been an old manufacturing headquarters at one time, if he remembered right. Still, the wall of windows covering one side offered exceptional views of downtown Atlanta and gave the place an airy feel. Had to have cost a pretty penny, though, which made him wonder how much environmentalists made. Tara walked into the open style kitchen and offered him a drink, which he declined. The kitchen had been updated too, with lots of granite and stainless-steel appliances. Nice. It certainly seemed like she could afford the maintenance on the trim and the window casings—maybe she just hadn’t noticed the need. She seemed pretty fully focused on her work.
She turned and leaned back against the large island there, crossing her arms, pulling her hoodie tighter around her even though it wasn’t that cold. “Nothing’s happened. I’ve just been alone since I got home and it’s bothering me more now since the shooting than I wanted to admit earlier.”
“Hmm. Understandable.” He followed her as she gave him a tour of the place and yeah, older home, but definitely nice—and pretty large, with four bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms. As he trailed behind her, he noted all the locks and points of possible entry. The windows at least looked secure. They passed the laundry room and Clint quickly dropped his gaze when he caught sight of a lacy thong atop a stack of folded items on the dryer. His mouth dried and damn. Now that image was going to be stuck in his head all night. Especially after the glimpse he’d gotten earlier today. Given her taste in bras, he shouldn’t have been surprised about an equally lacy thong, but still.
Ugh. Stop thinking about her underwear. Do. Not. Go. There. Nope. Not again.
Except the more he tried to force himself to stop imagining it, the more it stayed in his brain.
“So, what do you think?” she asked as they completed their tour and stopped back in the living room again. Without the high heels she’d been wearing earlier at the office, Tara was a good foot shorter than his 6’6” height and had to look up to meet his gaze. Clint couldn’t help noticing that in her stockinged feet, she barely came up to his mid-chest, and it made him feel even more protective of her. Then she smiled up at him and damn if his traitorous body didn’t tighten again despite his wishes, sending all his good intentions perilously close to down the drain. “Am I savable?”
“Um…” Clint blinked down at her, unable to stop staring at that mouth of hers. Oh yeah. She was savable all right. Also, kissable and huggable and if he got her in that bedroom back there and naked beneath him, he was sure she’d be infinitely fuckable too.
Whoa.
He took a step back, grateful beyond belief for the cell phone buzzing in his pocket to distract him from what would have been a horrible mistake. This time it was him holding up a finger for Tara to hold on. When Mrs. Crocker’s number flashed on the screen, his heart tripped. Had something happened to his daughter? He exhaled slowly and pressed the answer button, dreading
what he was about to hear.
“Clinton, it’s Mrs. Crocker,” the older lady said, her tone a bit anxious. “There’s a problem here.”
Damn. He’d worried that having precocious a six-year-old underfoot would be too inconvenient for his elderly neighbor, and it seemed like he’d been right. Lord knew he’d heard that same tone far too often since he’d been raising his daughter on his own. Between her boundless energy and the fact she was far too smart for her young age, she could be a lot to handle. Clint cleared his throat and said, “Is everything okay?”
“Something’s happened to your house.”
That stopped his train of thoughts in their tracks. “What? What’s wrong?”
“Well, Ashley forgot an assignment from school, so I brought her to your place to get it and it’s a good thing too, since the whole upstairs was flooded.”
“Flooded? How the—” Crap. Clint raked a hand through his hair, trying to wrap his head around this new, unexpected development. But even before he finished asking the question, he realized he could already take a guess at the answer. He’d been doing some reno on the extra bathroom up there, but the plumbing was old and he hadn’t had the time or money to replace it yet. Had he done something wrong to cause it? He didn’t think so, but… “Did a pipe break?”
“Is everything okay?” Tara asked, coming up beside him.
He shook his head and turned away to focus on what Mrs. Crocker was saying. “Yes, I think so,” she replied. “I was able to find the main shut-off valve in your garage and turned it off, but you’ll need to call your insurance company and get someone in here right away to clean it up. Until then, you’ll probably need to find someplace else to stay. There’s an inch or so of water covering a good part of the second floor and I’d worry about mould and water damage. Why, a few years ago I had a similar issue and…”
She continued on with her story, but Clint had already moved on in his head to recovery mode. He needed to call his insurance agent, then contact a restoration service to get in there and start the clean-up. He’d do it himself, but it wouldn’t be a quick job, and it had to be handled right away. He’d already signed on to do security for Tara and he couldn’t walk out on her now when he’d just started. “Uh, okay. Thanks, Mrs. Crocker. I’ll phone people now. If I give them your number, can you let them in for me?”
“Happy to,” Mrs. Crocker replied. “Not sure what you want to do about a place to stay, though. It just won’t be safe there for the time being.”
Clint thanked her again for her help and ended the call, but his head was already concentrating on making the necessary arrangements, all the while aware of Tara beside him, watching him while he handled it all. Half an hour later, they were both sitting on the overstuffed leather sofa in her living room when she asked him where he was going to sleep tonight.
“I’ll call Levon. He and Olive have a guest room I can use until I get situated,” he said.
“Or, you can just stay here.” Tara leaned forward to grab her bottled water off the coffee table and took a sip, watching him over the rim of her bottle as she shrugged. “I mean, there’s plenty of space and it would make sense, right? That way you’re here in case I need my bodyguard, right? I know I said before that I’d be fine here on my own at night—but to be honest, I would feel safer with you around.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he said, pushing to his feet to pace. Moving always helped him think better. “That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Why?” She got up too, blocking his path. “Give me one good reason.”
Because we’d end up in bed together.