Chapter Fifty-Two
Chance sat at the poolside cabana, directly across from Jane’s house, massaging the migraine from his temples. It had been four days since the Thanes had returned. And precisely four days since he started wondering why the fuck he’d decided to accept this assignment.
Jane, he reminded himself as he took his hundredth glimpse of her house, right across the pool. She was likely in there with Teddy, doing her best to keep him occupied while Gigi Thane busied herself getting ready for another day of shooting the Thane family documentary.
In Chance’s opinion, documentary wasn’t the best description for the tabloid-esque reality show that Gigi had orchestrated. Jane had said she would do as much as possible to keep Teddy’s time at home out of the public eye, so whenever the cameras were around, he never saw them.
But when he and Jane were off the clock, and the camera crews were gone for the day, and Teddy was tucked into bed, Chance kept Jane in his bed.
The Thanes hadn’t picked up on their relationship, and he’d guessed that Lark kept what she saw to herself.
He hadn’t seen Lark since his first day.
Neither Gigi nor Dax asked where Chance had been sleeping.
They’d passed his housing assignment along as though he’d just arrived—as though the world stopped and started with their arrival.
His place was perfect; an apartment over their six-car garage.
The space was meant for the chauffeur. However, Dax considered himself a car enthusiast and didn’t employ a chauffeur.
From what Chance could gather, Dax’s enthusiast title was merely a loose description for driving like a maniac with blatant disregard for speed limits and stop signs.
The best part of Chance’s apartment was the location. It was only a two-minute walk across the vast grounds to Jane’s cottage. They got their “together” time, and no one was the wiser.
One of the sliding glass doors that led onto the deck opened, and the now-familiar sound of a camera crew spilled out. From his vantage point, he could see the group without turning, but it was another bodyguard who went by Pennebaker that held Chance’s attention.
Pennebaker’s bald head shined in the reflection off the pool as he lumbered down the deck stairs and lifted his chin to Chance. “Midas.” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “You’re up.”
Chance managed not to groan. He’d been artfully positioned poolside by one of the camera crew people, and he wasn’t in the mood to move from location to location all day as though he were furniture.
Who the hell would’ve thought he’d miss the routine of Abu Dhabi with its opulence and a makeshift war room?
“Good luck,” Pennebaker muttered as he pulled out a chair next to Chance and took up his poolside assignment.
Before Chance had stood, Gigi leaned over the deck railing and snapped her fingers at him. “Chance, please come here.”
Pennebaker readjusted his chair and gave a subtle but knowing glance. “Good thing she pays well.”
The pay was nice, but the perks—or, rather, one beautiful perk who made his fucking dick twitch—were what kept Chance on the clock for a woman like Gigi, who snapped at him like a dog.
Still, he readjusted his sunglasses and hoofed it up the stairs and onto the deck. The production crew focused on Gigi drinking a tall glass of iced tea as though she hadn’t just snapped for his attention.
“Mrs. Thane.” He greeted her as professionally as he could muster.
She wore a bikini and a sarong suitable for an island vacation and posed with a hand on her hip.
He wasn’t trying to eyeball her, but it was hard to ignore the skimpy bathing suit.
Chance shifted uncomfortably, very aware that any reaction would be caught on film.
After a deliberate assessment, Gigi placed the iced tea glass on the rail and peered over her dark sunglasses. “Chance, honey, where is your gun?”
Honey and gun. Two words he hadn’t expected to come from her mouth. He gave her a look. Is this a trick question? Another opportunity to showboat for the cameras? He pulled off his own sunglasses. “Why?”
“Well, you do have a shoulder holster, don’t you?” She stared at him expectantly, as if she really wanted him to have a conversation about his gear. “I’m sure you know women go crazy for a man in a shoulder holster.” Gigi winked for the camera. “Especially this one.”
He had a shoulder holster, but since it was balls hot and he liked to carry on his hip or small of his back, he never thought to wear it.
But it didn’t matter. He was Aces, not a movie star or prop.
Chance cleared his throat. “Ma’am,” he said, aware that calling her the M-word would have a chilling effect. “Can we have a minute, please?”
Her lips pinched at the corners and then flicked her hand to the side.
“Cut,” a man called, and the crew morphed into a flurry of chatting and repositioning.
“What?” she asked tersely.
“My superiors didn’t know there’d be a camera crew here.”
“Yet they are.” She took a sip of her iced tea and then waved her hand. A woman scurried over and powdered Gigi’s face.
“I’m positive that your contract with my company won’t allow you to air video footage of me.”
“That’s why we stopped the shot. For an explanation of contracts?” She scowled.
The urge to walk away needled under his skin. “I don’t want to waste your time.”
She tilted her head and ogled him. “How could you possibly do that?”
“They’ll need to edit me out of whatever media thing you’re doing.”
She drew a heavily-pink-painted lower lip under her top teeth and sighed. “Chance. Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?”
She sauntered closer. “We could be having so much fun.”
His jaw tensed, acutely aware of her tone and positioning.
“I didn’t take the job to have fun.” He willed her to back off.
“Actually, the security briefings I’ve been privy to have been few and far between.
I’m not sure you need me here.” Though he’d do it all again for more time with Jane. “Definitely not on camera.”
She took off her sunglasses and pouted. “Think of the opportunities this could open for you. I mean, Dax is cute and funny and handsome. But you? You’re sex on a cracker, Chance. Women would go crazy for you. It’s a shame they’ll have to miss out.”
Chance sucked in a breath, understanding why she’d requested him by name. His superficial good looks were as much home décor accents as her designer candles. “Yeah, a real shame.”
Gigi dismissed him with a cold roll of her eyes, demanding he return to the background and for Pennebaker to return.
He didn’t wait for her to finish pouting. Chance high-tailed it off the deck, broke the bad news to Pennebaker, and settled under the poolside cabana, counting down the minutes until he could see Jane again.