Moonlighter

9. Eric

ERIC

“Pillow” is apparently part of my job description.

The next morning I wake up with Alex asleep on my chest, her hair splayed decadently across my skin. Not one part of her—not even a toe—is on her own side of the bed.

Carefully, I slide her off my body, her hair tickling my sensitive skin.

“Sorry,” she mumbles, rolling over.

She should be. Cuddling without sex? It’s just wrong.

In the living room, I disarm our front door, as one does. Then I order room service for both of us. After a day with Alex, I already know her order: plenty of everything, plus decaf.

While I wait for the food, I check my messages.

Change of plans, my brother has written. Pieter and another guard will escort Alex to all her meetings today. You won’t be needed until the cocktail party.

Wait, what?

After yesterday’s break-in, The Company has obviously closed ranks. Is it weird that I’m a little insulted? Fired from a job I didn’t even want. Now, that’s flattering. At least I can get a good workout in.

I do use my time wisely. I spend two hours in the weight room, plus an hour of stretching. Then I have a healthy lunch alone, where I don’t need to pretend to be anyone’s boyfriend.

It’s great, if a little solitary.

My phone rings while I’m drinking coffee on a chaise on the beach. I answer it right away, in case Alex needs me. But it’s only my asshole brother. "How’s it going?" he asks.

“Great. Why? Done with me?”

“Not hardly. What gave you that idea?”

“You have a cast of thousands. I’m just not sure I’m needed.”

“Little brother, are you feeling ignored? The gigolo at odds between dates…”

“Shut up. This was your idea. I could just come home.”

He laughs. “Don’t get any ideas. It’s true that I didn’t expect to fly in more staff for this event. But Alex is not the only tech executive I’m protecting in Hawaii this week.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I pulled agents off other work. But she’s the only one who’s having security issues. And we haven’t identified the guy in the break-in video. Yet.”

“It wasn’t the ex-boyfriend,” I offer. “I saw that guy at lunch yesterday.”

“And?” Max asks. “What did you think?”

“He doesn’t work out.”

Max laughs. “Your measure of a man’s worth.”

“Hey!” Although he is partly right. “I couldn’t exactly see into his soul from across a crowded restaurant. But he isn’t a grave physical threat. He looked angry, though.”

“At you?”

“Yeah. He wasn’t expecting to see Alex with a guy.”

“And you rubbed it in, I guess?”

“A little. I sent a message.”

He’s quiet for a second. “And the break-in happened an hour later.”

“Right. Which seems ridiculously aggressive for a rich guy with a romantic grudge.”

“I think so, too,” Max chuckles.

“Which means someone else broke in,” I conclude. “Who?”

“Not sure,” Max grunts. “I’m working on a couple theories.”

“Care to share?”

“Not at this time.”

I groan. “So let me get this straight. Either her ex has sociopathic tendencies, or some other character is stalking Alex. But you won’t tell me anything more.”

“That sums it up pretty well. But Eric—this is normal. All my clients are at risk, pretty much all the time. Worrying about them is what I do. Alex’s break-in is just another day at the office. Let me go do my job, and when I have actionable advice, you’ll know it.”

“And you wonder why I’m so eager to work with you. I don’t even know the name of your company.”

“Because you don’t need to. It’s not a secret because I’m an asshole. It’s a secret because it makes an important point. Anyone who works for me needs to understand that secrets are currency. If they can’t accept that, they aren’t a good fit.”

Then I’m not a good fit. I don’t say it aloud, because I don’t wish to prolong this conversation. And ultimately, I don’t need to know the name of a company I’ll never work for. “Whatever.”

“Stay the course, Eric. It’s either the boyfriend or it’s not.”

“Ex-boyfriend,” I grunt. “Alex is more afraid of him than anything else.”

“Agreed. Which is why you’re so important to this equation. Your job is twofold—to keep Jared Tatum away from Alex, and to make Alex feel safe. You keep an eye on Alex so that we can keep an eye on everything else.”

“Fine,” I agree. “I have to get off the phone now, or I’ll have an uneven tan on my face.”

Max belly laughs. “It’s good to hear your priorities are in line.”

“As always. Later, killjoy.”

“Later, dumbass.”

And people say I’m not very cuddly.

I set my phone to wake me up in twenty minutes, and then I take a catnap on the beach.

My day of leisure ends abruptly at six, when Alex tries to remove my copy of Sports Illustrated from my hands.

But I have fast reflexes. I catch her manicured hand just as it closes around the pages. “No way,” I argue. “I’m right in the middle of this article.”

“The cocktail party is already starting, and I want to be there in half an hour.”

“So?” I hold tightly to my magazine. “It’s a ten minute walk to the other hotel. That means I still have fifteen minutes to sit here.”

“You’re not dressed. You need a blazer and tie for this.”

“Yeah, I allocated five minutes for getting dressed.” I close the magazine and look up. And that’s a mistake, because I almost swallow my tongue. Alex is wearing a halter dress that seems to offer her breasts to me like gourmet treats on a buffet table.

“What?” she says, and I realize I’m staring. “Is it too much?”

“No!” I say quickly, because I’m not an idiot.

“Really—am I bursting out of here?” She lifts her hands and cups her breasts. “Nothing quite fits me right now. But this dress has a fit-and-flare shape, so it covers up my expanding ass.”

My mouth is suddenly dry. The sight of Alex touching herself—however briefly—is going to live on in my dirtiest dreams, I just know it. “You look great,” I rasp. “’Scuse me. I better…” I get up from the sofa and head into the bedroom.

I have got to get a hold of myself.

Putting on a suit ought to do the trick, though. Who wants to wear a tie in Hawaii? In fact, fuck the tie. If I’m supposed to be her bad boy arm candy, I can buck convention. I’m skipping the tie. And I’m not shaving, either. Three days worth of scruff is a good look on me.

I put on a linen jacket over dark jeans and a white shirt, open at the neck. When I check the mirror, I see a guy looking sharp, and a little more dangerous than a tech executive. I grin at my reflection. Who knew acting could be so fun?

When I walk into the living room, I find Alex standing in front of a full-length mirror, fussing with her hair. She turns around, and my pulse kicks up a notch.

“You’re staring,” she whispers. “You’re going to make me self-conscious.”

“Why? You look hot in that dress.” It’s just the truth.

She looks down. “I’m not the same shape as I was a few months ago. Jared might notice and wonder why.”

“No way. That’s not how men work,” I point out. “When he looks at you, there’s no chance his brain says”—I deliver this next part in a weird, nerdy voice—“she looks curvier, in a way that indicates early pregnancy.”

“No?” She smiles.

“Not a chance. He’ll take one look at you, and his brain will start melting. Ask me how I know.”

She rolls her eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Flattery.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s true. Now, let’s go. If I’m wearing a suit jacket, I deserve a drink.”

“Fine.” She takes one more glance at herself in the mirror. “I’ll grab my bag.”

The walk to the other hotel takes longer than it should because Alex is wearing heels and the flagstone path between the properties is somewhat uneven.

“If I were a dick, I’d challenge you to a race. First one there gets a cookie.”

Alex stops in her tracks. “That sounds familiar.”

“It should. You pulled that same stunt on me on the Vineyard.”

“What a pain in the ass I was,” she says as we continue along the path. “I cheated, too, right? I would only throw down that challenge when I was standing up and ready to go but you were still sitting on your beach towel.”

I laugh because it’s true. “You’d better hope that nobody ever wants to interview me about you. What was Alex Engels like as a child? Were there signs she’d become a CEO? Absolutely! She got up early, never sat down, and cheated every chance she got.”

“Shhh!” Alex hisses. “I have a reputation to uphold. And I won some of those races honestly.”

“Maybe once,” I scoff. “But not in silly shoes like those.”

“No kidding. I didn’t learn to wear heels until after college. Now they’re a necessity. Not only do they make my legs look longer, they bring me closer to eye level with all the men I have to deal with.”

I don’t think her legs could possibly look any longer, but I keep that to myself.

“What are you drinking?” I ask when we finally arrive at the party. It’s on another terrace overlooking the beach. Torches are lit at the boundary of the space, and the light makes Alex’s skin look even more golden than usual.

“Well, my usual drink is a gin and tonic, so I guess I’m drinking tonic water and lime,” she says, surveying the crowd.

“I can’t leave you alone, though. You’ll need to accompany me to the bar,” I say. “We’re like characters in a comedy, trying not to reveal that we’re handcuffed together.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” She sighs. “I just spotted the ex. He’s in the far corner, kissing up to the CFO of Verizon.”

“Good time to grab a drink, then.” I put an arm around her shoulder and tuck her against me. Then I guide her over to the bar. “Evening,” I say to the young bartender when he gives me a glance. “Two tonic waters with lime, please. No hurry.”

“Eric,” she whispers. “You can have a real drink.”

“Later,” I promise her. My gut says I’ll be handling her ex tonight, and I will do so with a clear head. “What’s your play, anyway?”

“Sorry?”

“Your play. Your goal. Your mission for this party. Unless you just love a good cash bar and some boring small talk.”

“Not particularly.” Alex’s smile lights up her whole face. “I’m here to give a piece of my mind to the conference organizer. Then I’m out of here, out of these shoes, and out of this dress.”

Yes, please. I give her a slow once-over, because that declaration makes me imagine her naked. “Can I watch that last part?”

“Eric!” she smacks my arm.

The bartender chimes in. “Can’t blame a guy for asking.” He sets two glasses down on the bar in front of us. “Four bucks.”

“Thanks, dude.” I drop a ten on the bar and hand her a drink. “Your fake boyfriend bought you a fake cocktail. Drink up.”

She gives me a wary smile. “You’re good for my ego.”

“I don’t think he was faking,” the young bartender says, already pouring the next customer’s drinks. He may be young, but he’s already wise. They must teach that at bartending school.

“So let’s find this guy you need to speak to,” I prompt.

“He’s over there,” Alex says, pointing at a cluster of gray-haired men near the dance floor.

Unfortunately, we don’t get very far. As soon as Alex and I venture further into the party, I see her ex excuse himself from a conversation and make a beeline for Alex.

“Oh, shit,” she squeaks.

“Easy,” I say quietly. “We can’t ignore him for six days. It’s better if he states his case and then I send him away.”

“Ugh. I hope you can make your point quickly.”

“Alexandra,” the twit says as he approaches. “Long time no see.”

“That was intentional,” she says, taking a sip of her drink.

I manage not to laugh, but it isn’t easy.

Tatum frowns. “Look, I’m sorry things ended badly. I’ve been thinking about you. I have something to give you, and—”

“I accept your apology,” she says quickly. “Now, if you’ll excuse us…”

He reaches for her hand. “Can I speak to you a moment?”

“No,” I say, stepping between the two of them, my intention impossible to miss. “Not happening.”

Her ex has to lift his chin to look me in the eye. “Alex can speak for herself.”

“Normally, yes. But you haven’t shown a lot of patience for her viewpoint in the past. Or am I wrong about that? Maybe I’m a dick, but I’d never hit her.”

“Jesus,” he hisses as heads begin to turn. “That was a fluke.”

“A fluke?” Alex yips from behind me. “That’s just insulting. Did your hand find my face by accident?”

“Why don’t you just fluke off right now?” I say, taking a step closer to him, which forces him to take a step backward. “Did you know I hit guys for a living?”

His lip curls, and for a moment, I wonder if he’s dumb enough to punch me. But Alex was right. He’s here to impress, and there are too many people watching. After another beat of enraged silence, he turns his back and strides away from us and then right out of the party.

“Well. “ I dust my hands against each other. “That’s taken care of. Now let’s handle your thing.”

“Right. In a second.” Alex takes a sip of her drink, and I notice her hand is shaking.

“Hey!” I pull her against me. “Everything is fine. That went exactly like I expected.”

“I’m usually good in a fight, I swear.” She presses her face against my lapel. “But that man makes me so nervous.”

“We could just bail on this party,” I point out.

“No way.” She stands up straighter. Then she takes my glass out of my hand and maneuvers toward the bar. “Could you pour some gin into his drink?” she asks the bartender. “I think he deserves it.”

The guy grabs a bottle of Plymouth off the top shelf and tips it over my glass. “Well done, man. You won’t be hearing from him again. Drink’s on the house.”

“Thanks.” I grab a straw and stir up my cocktail. “I did fly five thousand miles to tell that guy off.”

Alex just shakes her head. “Ridiculous, right?”

“Nah, it was kind of fun. Now, who did you need to see?”

“He’s over there.” She takes my hand and squeezes it.

As her fingers close around mine, just for a second I feel like that kid on Martha’s Vineyard again—ready for trouble, and ready to follow Alex to the next adventure.