CHAPTER TWO #2
Not a surprise. But it still sucked. Behind us, paparazzi followed on motorbikes, scooters, and in cars.
A whole bunch of them. Oh man, this was just fucking great.
No, wait, hold up. I needed an attitude adjustment.
Enough with the moping and fretting. Especially since it wouldn’t help a damn thing.
Deep breath. This too would pass. A few days and no doubt they’d be talking about someone else, and my stalker would be behind bars.
This would all be over and I could go back to my normal life of coming and going as I pleased.
After all, it couldn’t be any worse than when my idiot cheating ex’s sex tape hit the internet and I survived that.
I’d been working in New York and all of the attention during that emotionally upsetting time was an unhelpful pain in the ass, and then some.
The gates to the underground parking garage beneath my building clanged shut behind us and I breathed a sigh of relief. “You might as well head home. I’ll be staying in for the rest of the night.”
“I’ll see you upstairs and check your apartment. Then I’ll be on my way.”
“But the building has security.” I undid my seatbelt. “You think that’s really necessary?”
“Yes, miss.”
I exhaled. Chin up, shoulders back, tits out. Time to pull my shit together and make my mom proud. “Okay then.”
He went before me, first checking that the elevator was empty, then he checked the hall outside my apartment.
“Your keys and security alarm code please, miss?” he asked, hand held out waiting.
It might have just been me, but we seemed to be standing awfully close together.
It almost seemed weirdly intimate. Almost. No, my bad.
Ziggy wore his usual professional facade with nary a hint of emotion on display.
His gaze was shuttered, his bearing military rigid.
It was definitely just me and my overactive imagination.
Being vaguely attracted to your bodyguard was kind of a pain in the ass.
Not that I couldn’t use the distraction right now.
Ziggy continued to stand there patiently waiting.
“Keys. Right.” I rummaged inside my Balenciaga City bag. Designer goodies were not only a weakness of mine, but a happy perk of being in the industry and achieving some small fame. “Ah, just a minute. They’re in here somewhere.”
I pushed aside my purse, a cashmere shawl, tampons, a candy bar, some loose change, my small Chanel cosmetics case, a power bank, hair ties, pepper spray, a copy of the latest Sarah MacLean book, mints, a spare charging cable for my cell phone, the cell phone itself, Chapstick, Prada sunglasses case, my grandma’s rosary, dental floss, deodorant, a couple of pens, Kleenex, ear buds, water bottle, a USB stick, reusable straw, condoms, nail file, some old receipts, a travel size umbrella, hand sanitizer, lotion, a pair of pearl earrings, tweezers, Advil, a hair band, and some bobby pins.
“Sorry about this,” I murmured. “I know I put them in here when we left.”
He said nothing. A whole lot of nothing.
“Huh.” With a great sense of victory, I held up a bottle of nail polish. “I thought I’d lost this.”
One of his dark brows crept upwards.
“I’ll have you know this color was limited edition. Little Death at Midnight by Oxley. You can’t buy it anymore.”
His lips did not move, but that damn eyebrow arched even higher as he leaned forward a little and took in the contents of my bag. I swear his eyes widened.
“Don’t you judge me. All of these things are necessary for my ongoing existence.”
“Of course they are, miss.” The man was so judging me. Bastard. “You carry a koozie around with you, I see.”
“It pays to be ready to party, Mr. Thayer.” I finally produced the keys, dangling on a Miss Piggy fob. “Here you go. Alarm code is eight five star three zero one two.”
“Yours and your mother’s birthdays?”
“How on earth do you know that?”
“We have extensive files on all our clients.”
“I haven’t been your client for that long.”
“We also do background checks for the owner of the building.” He unlocked the door and punched in the code before standing aside so I could enter. The door was then locked behind me.
“That would explain it. Still, you have a very good memory.”
“That code will need to be changed to something random,” he said. “And it might be best if I hang on to the keys next time. Should there be an incident, we don’t want anything delaying you from getting into a secure location. If you could wait here please, miss.”
He strode through my apartment, giving it a thorough, if fast, inspection. My open plan living room, kitchen, dining space, office, spare bedroom, bathroom, and…this was exactly when it occurred to me.
“Wait!” Sore calves or not, I ran. “Ziggy, stop!”
Brows drawn in tight, he stood in my bedroom. “Please wait back at the door until I’ve cleared the apartment.”
“Just give me a second.”
“Miss Cooper,” he said.
“Just give me one second.”
“I must insist.”
With one hand I scooped up the underwear, T-shirt, cardigan, jeans, and shoes I’d worn yesterday. “Normally I tidy up after myself and make my bed, I swear. This is very unusual for me.”
He just blinked.
“I just got in so early in the morning and then I slept so badly,” I said in an almighty rush. “Please don’t think I’m a slob.”
He blinked again. “There are precisely six locations in this room that an intruder could hope to hide in. That is all I’m thinking about.”
“Okay.” I smiled. “Good. Stick with that.”
His movements somewhat more stilted than before, he checked in my ensuite and extensive walk-in closet.
“Well, that wasn’t embarrassing at all,” I said. “All clear?”
“Yes.”
“Great. Excellent.”
The man just looked at me. I’m not sure what the look meant.
But then his gaze dropped to the collection of items in my arms. Most noticeably, to the black lace thong dangling off my finger.
Oops. Quick as possible, I scrunched it up in my hand.
Out of sight, out of mind, right? Might have been the low lighting, yet I could have sworn the man almost blushed.
“Guess you’ve seen just about everything, what with being a bodyguard.” I slapped on my best friendliest smile. He wasn’t the only one who knew how to strike a pose. Even if his poses were mostly imitations of rock formations and other impassive, poker-faced things.
“Yes, miss.”
“Probably seen people doing all sorts of crazy things. My messy bedroom probably doesn’t even really rate.”
Another blink.
“You know, men usually have to take me out to dinner before they get to see my underwear,” I joked.
The man just stared.
Oh, God. “I shouldn’t have said that. That was really inappropriate. I’m so sorry. When I get nervous I tend to blather and nothing that comes out is ever any good.”
“It’s fine, miss.”
“I’m usually much more together than this. I don’t–”
“I’m going to leave now.”
I took a breath. “Um, yeah. That might be for the best.”
“If you could be sure to lock the door after me and use the security system?”
“Of course. Sorry again.”
He turned to go, then paused, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “I forgot to ask, have you decided upon your movements tomorrow?”
“Nothing much until my lunch appointment.”
“I’ll be here at nine then. There’s a few jobs I’d like to do before we head out.”
“Okay.”
And I definitely did not imagine his gaze returning to the hand holding my black silk thong.
It was for the briefest of moments. If I blinked, I would have missed it.
But I didn’t. Maybe I’d scarred the man for life by inadvertently flashing my underwear.
Maybe he couldn’t believe what a train wreck I was.
Or maybe he just liked looking at women’s lingerie. I don’t know.
Then he was gone. Ziggy sure could move fast when motivated.
Generally speaking, I didn’t tend to go around scaring grown men.
Especially not former Marines. Though I wasn’t sure how else to interpret what just happened.
Down the hallway, the front door clicked shut and I sighed.
Maybe he’d send someone else tomorrow. He’d have to be a brave man to come back for more.