Chapter Two
Ben
I take one look at Summer and know I am in trouble. She is a true mixture of ingénue and unknowing seductress. She folds her arms across her chest, but the action does little to conceal her ample cleavage and more to push up the swells of her breasts for my viewing pleasure.
I shift positions. It is all I can do not to adjust my dick inside my pants.
“Oh, beautiful!” A woman with short-cropped dark hair walks in, clapping in delight. “I knew that dress was just perfect for your figure. Turn around. I’ll zip you.”
“Aren’t you worried about who he is, and what he’s doing here?” Summer asks, pointing to me.
The woman shrugs. “I have clients with men in here all the time. It’s nothing new. Now turn.” She gestures, and Summer spins around, revealing her sleek back and pale skin exposed thanks to the way her dress splits down the center.
I swallow hard. Hard being the word of the day now that I am around Summer again.
I vividly recall tracing that expanse of skin with my lips and tongue, how she trembled and moaned at my touch.
Our time together was short but potent, and I have to shake my head hard to dislodge the memories threatening to overtake me.
After finishing up with her new wardrobe, Summer heads back to the dressing room to change, reappearing in a pair of ripped jeans, black shirt, and white sneakers.
Now she looks more like the girl I remember, the eager-to-please, always-happy-to-perform woman who radiated happiness and sunshine.
Fuck. I have to stop thinking like a guy who is whipped when it comes to Summer and more like her security detail.
As I follow them into another room, I see rack after rack of what has to be designer clothing and thank my lucky stars I don’t have to sit through any more of the fashion show.
“Thank you so much for today,” Summer says to the stylist, whose name I’ve learned is Rose. “I just love the clothes and can’t wait to wear them.” She gestures to the huge pile she’s accumulated.
“What’s next on the agenda, princess?” I ask, an unplanned sarcastic tone to my voice to help offset my attraction to her. One that is still there and not something I welcome.
She spins toward me, her gaze narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“Isn’t that what you are? A pop princess?”
Her lips purse in annoyance. “Except coming from you, it sounds more like an insult than a compliment.”
And I, of all people, know how much her music career means to her.
How much she sacrificed, including friends and a normal childhood.
Because during the time we spent together, she confided so much to me, including her hopes and dreams. I am a dick for belittling them now just because she makes me feel things I don’t like or want to experience again.
“I want a new bodyguard. Someone I trust.” She hits back where it hurts me the most, because I confided in her, too, and I pride myself on a job well done. On being someone trustworthy and reliable.
And this verbal sparring is getting us nowhere, so I hold up my hands in surrender. “Stop. What I said was uncalled for. We’re both professionals. We can handle this arrangement for as long as is necessary. No more low blows.”
She swallows hard, the soft line of her throat moving up and down. I want to trace the silken skin with my tongue, bite down until I mark her and she moans like I know she would. Those sounds she used to make in the back of her throat when I was deep inside her still haunt me.
“Fine,” she says, breaking into my irreverent daydreams before I can go further, before my body can react to the thoughts I can’t control in my brain.
At least she acquiesced easier than I expected. “So what is next on your agenda?” I ask in a rough voice.
She rubs her bare arm with one hand. Her nails are long and painted a light blue.
“Errands and then home. I have an early appearance on The Morning Show. It’s a short interview and then I’m performing.”
“Indoors or out?” I ask, already assessing the situation and risk.
“Out.”
I blow out a sharp breath. I’ll just have to stick close to the stage. “Fine. When we get back to your place, I need to see your most recent itinerary. Make sure nothing’s changed compared to what was given to me.”
She nods in agreement. “Okay. And you’ll come by in the morning and go with me to the studio?”
I can’t stop the slow grin from lifting the corners of my mouth. “Nope. I’ll be spending the night, so please tell me you’ve got a decent-sized couch?”
She blinks, and those big doe eyes look at me as if surely I’ve lost my mind. “Why would you need to stay over? I’m perfectly safe locked in my apartment until you come to get me.”
I cock an eyebrow. “In your walk-up apartment with no doorman or alarm? Is that really your definition of perfectly safe?”
She opens her mouth to argue, then shuts it again, obviously realizing she really can’t fight me. The fact is, this is my business and I know it better than she does.
She blows out a long breath. “You’re in luck,” she mutters, somewhat ungraciously. “I have a pullout sofa so that big body of yours won’t have to curl up on a too-short couch.”
I smirk, realizing I am enjoying watching her squirm. “I can’t wait.”
I took the subway to get to Summer’s appointment because I was told she has a car service provided by Jade Glow during the time of the so-called competition.
From the stylist’s, a waiting car drives us to Summer’s.
I am grateful I don’t have to deal with keeping her safe in subways loaded with people or taxi cabs with random drivers.
Rose sent her home with tomorrow’s clothes and promised to deliver everything else.
Without a doorman, Summer instructed Rose to leave everything with the super in her building.
When we arrive, my suspicions about her apartment are confirmed.
The place is a security nightmare. Anyone can come into the building just by following close behind someone heading in.
Her lock isn’t any more secure, something I’ll take care of right away by getting one of my company’s trusted locksmiths to put a secure Medeco lock and deadbolt on the door.
“Be it ever so humble,” she says, opening the door and letting me inside first.
I look around her home, taking in the bright colors and homey atmosphere.
A white canvas sofa is covered in red and yellow pillows, and there is a black-and-white area rug beneath the cocktail table, which I assume will move easily so I can open the bed hidden inside.
The kitchen is a tiny, narrow room, the eating area a small table at the end of the entryway and just outside the kitchen.
A pass-through window opens to the family room.
There is nothing pretentious about how she lives.
I place my bag down beside the sofa.
“The bathroom is through there,” she says, pointing to the door beside her bedroom, a short couple of steps away from where I’ll be sleeping, something I won’t think about until I absolutely have to.
“I think we’ll manage just fine,” I say, wishing I was as confident as I sound.
But the last thing I am ready to do is spend God knows how many nights in this small apartment, surrounded by the fragrant scent of wildflowers I associate with Summer.
* * *
Summer
I can’t sleep. Dinner, which I prepared for us both, consisted of whole wheat bow tie pasta with fresh vegetables and tomato sauce, and lackluster conversation.
In the background, a locksmith changed my locks and secured my home, but Ben wouldn’t have been chatty even without the worker there.
There seems to be a definite tension between us leftover from our time together and the past, and he seems determined to do his job with no other real conversation between us.
So I gave him what he wanted and turned in early to my room for bed.
But first I helped him open the pullout sofa and made up the bed for him to sleep.
My apartment has one bathroom outside the bedroom, and so I wait until I hear him come out before heading in to wash up and change into a pair of light blue sleep shorts and a matching tee shirt, making sure I don’t glance his way when I exit.
The last thing I want to do is catch him shirtless, because the guy has a freaking fantastic chest. All hard muscle and lean abs that felt so amazing against my hands, my belly, my entire body when we came together.
With a groan, I shake my head of those thoughts or else I’ll never be able to get to sleep tonight.
Once back in my room, I notice my phone has a text from my best friend, Ivy Jameson.
A web designer, she works from home and has been busy on deadline or else she’d have been all over coming with me to my stylist appointment earlier today.
Ivy: So? Loaded with designer duds?
I type in my reply. You have no idea. Gorgeous stuff.
Ivy: Bodyguard show up yet?
I told Ivy about the plan to provide me with security.
I reply immediately. Again, you have no idea.
Oh, Ivy knows all about my past. We had too many girls’ nights for us not to know all about each other. But nobody could have anticipated my new bodyguard being the man from my past.
Ivy: Is he hot man candy?
Summer: Yes.
And that one word does not accurately capture all that is Ben Hollander.
It isn’t just his exceptional good looks, it is his presence, made even stronger by that hot body.
Muscles bulge from beneath the tee shirt and the weapon I know he carries that is there to keep me safe.
And even though he is obviously still angry at me, that brooding thing is sexy, too.
I am so screwed, and not necessarily in a good way.
Ivy: One-word answer? What aren’t you telling me?
Just that he can make my panties melt with one searing look.
Summer: It’s Ben. And before you ask, yes, that Ben.
Ivy: OMG. Second chances and hot summer sex?
I wish. He’s still angry and bitter. He’s not speaking to me much beyond doing his job.
Ivy: His job is to guard your body. Show it off and you’ll be fine.
I brush a strand of hair off my face and lower myself onto the bed. If only the solution to Ben and me was that easy. We have a lot of unfinished business between us that only talking about will help, but he doesn’t seem like he is in the mood to listen.
I turn my attention back to my friend and type.
He’s staying here as part of the security detail.
Ivy: Perfect. Use the time to make things right. You know you want to. Then see what happens between you.
I reply, We’ll see… XO, and put my phone on the nightstand.
I think about what Ivy said, at least about making things right.
He didn’t want to take my calls after he was fired, but we have forced proximity now.
He’ll have to talk to me if I push the issue.
I don’t know if I can melt his icy exterior, but I can ease my conscience.
Not that I was at fault, but he obviously thinks I was. And that bothers me.
I climb into bed and try to sleep, but thoughts of the man in the other room keep me tossing and turning. An hour later, with no sleep, I decide maybe a cup of hot tea would help.
I walk out of my room, surprised to find a small light on and Ben sitting upright in the bed.
“Hey. What are you doing up?” I ask.
“Couldn’t sleep. You?”
“Same. I thought I’d make myself a cup of tea. Can I get you some?”
“No, thanks.”
I head for my kitchen and turn on the stove to boil water, then I take a mug from the cabinet, my thoughts on what Ivy said.
Make things right.
Talk to him.
Maybe it is time.
* * *
Ben
I am tossing and turning when Summer walks out of her room.
It isn’t the bed that is the problem. I’ve slept in more awkward accommodations on assignment.
It is the woman in the next room and how uncomfortable things are between us.
Not to mention the fact that I find her as desirable now as I did then, more so because she’s developed an air of confidence as she matured, and I find it fucking sexy.
She turns on the light in the kitchen, and one glimpse through the pass-through window reveals her ample, braless breasts, visible through the thin cotton. I press a hand against my aching dick.
“I called you, you know. More than once,” she says as she goes through the preparations of making her tea, turning on the stove top and putting a bag in a mug.
I don’t pretend not to know what she is referring to. I saw her calls. Ignored them. I’m not proud of it, but I was humiliated by the experience and furious with myself for knowingly putting myself in a position to be fired.
I don’t want to have the conversation now, but she deserves an answer. “I wasn’t in a good mental place to take your call or talk about what happened.”
She walks out of the kitchen and sits on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry.” She looks down at her hands, which are clasped tightly together.
“You were angry, and you had a right to be, but I need you to know something. I had nothing to do with the producers finding out about us. I have my suspicions who snitched, but that doesn’t matter now. ”
She lifts her head, raises her shoulders, and meets my gaze. “What matters is you knowing that I begged them not to fire you. I told them what happened between us was mutual. I even said that I seduced you and offered to leave the show myself.”
She surprises me, and not much does these days. “It was a long time ago, and I learned a valuable lesson. It’s fine,” I say in a gruff voice. But it isn’t good enough, and I know it. “I could have handled it better.” I shrug. “Answered your calls.”
“Can we be more … civil to each other now?” she asks.
I’m not sure I can handle civil with her and not cross that line again. Especially with the attraction between us still hot as ever.
“Distance lets me do my job.”
She places a hand on my foot, covered by a blanket … which I feel all the way to my cock. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she says with a cheeky grin, squeezing my toes once before the teakettle begins to whistle.
She rises to shut off the stove top, and I can’t tear my gaze away from the sway of her hips or the curve of her ass in those shorts.
I watch her pour the water into her mug before adding some milk and sugar, her movements lighter and happier than they were before, lightening the heaviness that was in my chest.
I refuse to consider why.