The Billionaire Bodyguard(10)

He sighed. People got so hung up on status-they let it  blind them to  the things that really mattered and they hid behind it, as  if it could  protect them from the world.

'Well, that's the beauty of a job like this,' he said expansively. 'Easy come, easy go.'

How  casual he made it sound-and yet it was interesting, in a funny kind  of  way. She never mixed with men who didn't put ambition at the top of   their list of desires. 'And have you always done it?' she asked   curiously. 'Driving, I mean?'

Jay almost laughed aloud, and if he  hadn't been so easy in his own skin  he might have taken offence at her  assumption. Did she really think  that he would have been happy sitting  behind the wheel of a car all  these years, ferrying around people like  her, who were so far removed  from the real world as to be on another  planet?                       
       
           



       

His expansive mood evaporated. He threw another log on  the fire. He  didn't broadcast his past; people-especially women-seemed  to be  fascinated to the point of intrusion by a life which had been  composed  largely of excitement and danger and deprivation and  discipline. His  mouth tightened.

'Not always, no.'

His evasion interested her too, because in her experience men were renowned for wanting to talk about themselves.

'Oh? What kind of things have you done?'

Now  she was very definitely patronising him, and it had the effect of   making him want to master and subdue her. He suppressed it. For the   moment.

'I was in the US Navy,' he said shortly. 'A SEAL.'

Keri  screwed her nose up, but he didn't appear to be joking. 'What's  that,  exactly? I mean, I've heard of Navy SEALs, but I don't know much  about  them.'

He relaxed a little. She didn't know much about them. This  was one of  the reasons he'd chosen to come back to England-over here  there was  none of the SEAL-as-hero stuff which he'd lived with since the  age of  eighteen.

'What is a SEAL?' He played it down, the way he  always did. 'Well, we  root and toot and parachute,' he murmured, his  eyes glittering as he  saw her look of utter incomprehension. 'We're a  combination of frog-man  and paratrooper,' he explained. 'We blow things  up, dive to the  deepest depths and jump from insane heights.' And we  always get the  pretty girl.

'So, were you an officer?'

This  time Jay did laugh. He guessed that type of differentiation would  be  very important to her. One of the ratings certainly wouldn't be good   enough for Miss Beauty. 'Yes, Keri,' he answered gravely. 'I was an   officer.'

That explained a lot. The strength, the  resourcefulness, the cool  confidence in a crisis. And the body, of  course-hard, honed muscle like  that was the result of years of training.  She had been right-you  didn't get to look like that if you just  frequented the gym, no matter  how often.


And the US bit  explained the slight drawl, the accent she had never  heard before-and it  might also explain the ease with which he spoke to  her, because weren't  Americans better at breaking down class barriers  than their English  counterparts?

'So you are American?'

Her body language was  relaxing into the conversation, her long, long  legs as coltish as  they'd looked in his driver's mirror. Jay remembered  the brief,  tantalising view of her lacy stocking-tops and he felt the  deep beat of  his pulse in response. Maybe he would talk all she liked,  if that was  what it took to loosen her up.

'Half and half,' he said. 'Or  maybe neither. That happens sometimes  when you're torn between two  cultures.' He saw her interested,  inquisitive gaze. In any other  situation he would have changed the  subject-moved it on or away-but this  was not any other situation, it  was this one, and its very isolation  seemed designed to draw out  confidences he would usually have kept  locked away.

'I grew up in both countries after my parents  divorced,' he said  tightly. 'My father was American and my mother  British-but I hold dual  nationality and that's what qualified me to  join.' Along with an  endurance test designed purposely to weed out all  but the very toughest  of the tough.

Keri blinked in confusion.  Surely being in the US Navy was a lot more  preferable to this? 'And did  you er, did you have to leave?'

'You mean, was I kicked out?'

'No, I didn't mean that-'

'Oh, yes, you did, and no, I wasn't-it was just time to leave.'

'You'd had enough?'

Yes,  he'd had enough. Too many demonstrations of how ultimately frail  man  could be-too many reminders of the shortness of life and the   inevitability of death. It was a young man's game-always had been and   always would be-and it needed a young man's vigour and invincible belief   in himself. Once that was gone you were no good to anyone-least of all   yourself. Or to people who needed you …

'Something like that,' he  said shortly, and this time he could do  nothing to stop the memories  which came back to haunt him-nothing like  as powerful as they had been  in those early days and nights, but still  powerful enough to make him  flinch. Memories of death and betrayal  which were light-years away from  most men's experiences. And honour.  Always honour. Honour and service.

'That kind of job has its own limited life-span-a bit like yours, probably.'                       
       
           



       

A  muscle was working in the strong face, and for the first time Keri   noticed a tiny, tiny scar which tracked down it. She reached her hand   out, as if to touch it, but she did not. 'How did you do that?'

His eyes grew cold and hard, like flint.

'Oh, just something,' he said dismissively.

Keri  knew when not to probe any further, and she dragged her attention  away  from his face, feeling curiously disorientated. She was alone in a   deserted place with a man she scarcely knew-a man with muscles which   looked real and a scarred face. A real man, not a silk-clad concoction   of the city.

She should be scared and on her guard, but she  wasn't. Inside, she felt  warm and replete from the unexpectedly  delicious food, and lulled by  the velvet glow of the rich wine. She  stretched her legs out, as if  testing how far they would reach, feeling  at peace, something beyond  her control subduing the knowledge that this  was somehow wrong-how  could it be?

All she was doing was making  the best of a bad situation. Only she was  fast coming to the conclusion  that it wasn't so bad at all. Quite the  contrary. The fact that he had  been in the Navy gave him a life other  than as a driver, and somehow it  made her feel safe.

She felt her gaze drawn towards him again and  found that his attention  was on her. It was a curious yet assessing  look, and maybe she should  have looked away, but she didn't-didn't want  to. His eyes were dark and  glittering-she still couldn't make out what  colour they were-and all  she was aware of was that a ripple of awareness  had begun to lick at  her skin.

There was a sudden soft hush in  the air. Jay saw her relax. Saw the  reflex as her fingers lost the  tension which had stiffened them, like  the way a woman relaxed after  orgasm, and he felt the irresistible kick  of desire as he put his empty  wine glass down in the grate.

There were times to move and times  to stay, and he would have wagered  every cent he had that she wanted him  to move. And why not? They had a  long night to get through.

Flopping  into her dark eyes was her over-long fringe, and he reached  out and  touched it, as if to brush it away. But he didn't. The feel of  her skin  was so soft that he left the tip of his finger right there,  began to  curl one of the wayward strands around it.

It felt curiously and  inexplicably right. She should have shaken her  head away, or demanded to  know just what he thought he was playing at.  And what did she do? She  said one little word.

'Jay … ' The word came out as a murmured and breathy little sound; it didn't sound a bit like her.

'Mmm?'  He heard the catch in her voice and felt the race of his heart.  'Don't  you like me tidying up your hair for you, Keri? It's all  mussed.'

But  he wasn't tidying up her hair at all, she thought wildly. The hair  lay  neglected as instead he stroked his fingertips down her face to the  line  of her jaw, and she shivered beneath what was outwardly such an   innocent gesture but which felt like the most erotic thing she had ever   felt before. And how ridiculous was that?