The Texas Bodyguard’s Proposal Page 14

  She felt deflated although she attempted not to show it. “I’m nothing like your wife, am I?”

  “Nothing like her,” he agreed. But he didn’t add that was okay, that Gabby had gifts of her own that she could bring to the table.

  Stop it, she told herself. You don’t need anyone’s approval. You don’t need Rafe’s approval. You are who you are, and that’s what you have to remember. You need a man who can accept you just the way you are.

  The waitress arrived to take their order.

  Gabby concentrated on what she’d eat for lunch rather than Rafe’s opinion of her.

  For the moment.

  Rafe knocked on the door of Gabby’s bedroom. “Ready for that swim?” he asked.

  After shopping and meeting with the designer, Rafe had watched Gabby as she’d worked with the portfolio of sketches for two hours, making notes on a legal pad. When he’d asked if she’d wanted to go for a swim, she’d assured him she’d change and be out in a few minutes. That was fifteen minutes ago.

  Now she opened her door. “Are you sure no one else will be up there?”

  The manager had assured him they’d have the rooftop pool all to themselves at midnight. “I have the manager’s word.”

  “Let’s hope he’s trustworthy. I don’t want to be greeted by five camera flashes.”

  “I’ll check it out before you get off the elevator. Don’t worry.”

  She stepped out of her room and Rafe had to admit he was a bit disappointed. She was wearing a turquoise cape thing that covered her body from her neckline to midthigh.

  She studied him the same way he was appraising her. Her gaze drifted down his face to his chest hair, to his gray-and-yellow swim trunks. If she kept examining him like that, she’d soon see something she might not want to see.

  He handed her a fluffy white towel and carried one himself. “We might need these.”

  Their ride up to the roof was silent. Rafe didn’t know whether Gabby was tired or just introspective. She’d been enthusiastic about shopping, enthusiastic about those sketches. Yet she was quiet. Was she thinking about that photograph and what they were going to do? What she should do? She’d said that it was his call, but that photo affected her, too.

  The elevator door slid open. Rafe exited first and checked the area. Not a person in sight. He beckoned to Gabby and she stepped out, too. They both just stood there taking in the immense night sky. The breeze was still balmy. Chaise lounges and chairs were placed in a zigzag formation around the pool. A few lights glowed around the edges…a few from within the sea-blue pool.

  After she took it all in, Gabby headed for one of the chaise lounges, laid her towel there and slipped off her sandals. She hesitated a moment, then pulled the cape over her head.

  As she stood there in the moonlight, Rafe felt an intense longing. She wore a turquoise bikini. He was transfixed by her tall, slim body limned in moonlight. He knew he was staring, but he couldn’t help it. Gabriella McCord was perfection in so many ways. Yet underneath, there was a vulnerability and innocence that captivated him. Although she’d been in the public eye for so many years, something about her was still unspoiled. He didn’t know how that was possible. At first he thought it was wishful thinking, but since he’d come to know her—

  Did he really know her?

  There was no point denying his admiration for her. He crossed to where she stood, tossed his towel down on the lounge chair and studied her.

  “Are you comparing me to the models in the swimsuit issue of Sports Illustrated?” she asked with a barb in her tone.

  He deserved that. “You were among those models, weren’t you?”

  Now, instead of looking tense, she smiled. “Yes, but that was a few years ago.”

  “Nothing’s changed. You’re still as beautiful.”

  Now she studied him. And he read her thoughts. “You know, I don’t believe in idle flattery, Gabby.”

  “I guess…” She seemed unsure. “I guess I don’t want you looking at me only on the outside.”

  “You’re a woman with a mind and a heart and a soul. Modeling is what you do, not who you are.”

  The tilt of her head told him she was trying to decide whether or not to believe him. He supposed too many men had flattered her. Too many men had only looked at the outside. Too many men hadn’t really cared about her heart.

  He did. And that realization hit like a body blow.

  He searched for his voice and found it. “Do you swim or do you wade?”

  She smiled. “I actually swim. It’s great exercise. I should be doing it in Dallas, but we’ve just been so…busy.”

  “Well, now we’re not busy.” He held his hand out to her. “Come on.”

  She stared down at his hand for a few moments, as if she were making a commitment if she took it. Finally she slipped hers into his. She felt fragile to him and he realized in some ways, she was.

  “The water’s warm,” she said in delight, as she went down the steps and slid into a float. Without hesitating she did the crawl to the end of the pool, brushed her wet hair back from her face, then did it again.

  Rafe needed to work off energy himself, so he followed her, kept pace with her, watched out for her.

  She stood, waiting as he finished his third lap. “You’re good. Don’t feel you have to dawdle next to me. Swim at your own pace.”

  “I’ve got more than one pace. Swimming along beside you is fine.”

  “What do you think about when you’re swimming?”

  “No one’s ever asked me that before.”

  “Good. Then I’ll get a spontaneous answer,” she said with a grin.

  “I try not to think,” he admitted. “I get into a rhythm and just let my body work. My mind just hums along. That’s why I like swimming, I guess. I find peace there.”

  “That’s another way we’re different,” she mused. “My mind goes as fast as my strokes. I think about everything from yesterday, today, to what’s coming up tomorrow. Swimming is just the backdrop. I relax. The same thing happens when I listen to music or I have a massage or I study beautiful paintings. When you relax you empty your mind. When I relax I let my feelings take over and they fill me.”

  “Yet there are times,” he said, coming closer to her, “when you don’t show emotion, either. You keep it all in.”

  “That’s a secret,” she said softly.

  “Not to me. I know how to read people pretty well. Your eyes, your hands, the tilt of your chin give away what you’re thinking.”

  “What am I thinking right now?” she asked, a little bit shakily, he thought.

  “You’re thinking the same thing I’m thinking. That we’re on top of the world, there’s nobody around and darkness shields us from everything we’ve left behind. There are absolutely no reporters because we’ll be able to hear them sneak up on us in a helicopter.”

  She laughed, and that was the effect he wanted. He wanted to see her laughing and free in her element, whether that was in a crowd or in the olive groves in Tuscany. He could imagine her, barefoot in a summer dress, running through them.

  They were close now, with only the thin layer of water between them. He couldn’t stay away from her.

  He stroked her wet hair away from her cheek.

  With her eyes closed, her lashes were dark and wispy on her cheeks. “Look at me, Gabby,” he requested.

  When she did, he saw what he wanted to see—a reflection of the hunger he was feeling.

  “Can you accept what’s happening between us?” she asked in a whisper.

  For the moment, he couldn’t deny the desire in her eyes or his body’s response to her. He knew he should, but he also knew it was time to stop deluding himself. He wanted Gabriella McCord in every primitive way a man wants a woman.

  She extended her hand and her fingers traced over a few droplets on his shoulder. His whole body went rigid.

  Warning bells clanged and he knew he should dive into that water and swim a few more laps instead
of standing here with her. But his racing heart and his aroused body told him differently.

  Still, he made a jab at being reasonable for both of them. “We should go back to the suite.”

  Her body leaned slightly toward his. Her hands slid down his arm to his biceps. She was telling him she didn’t want to go back to the suite for the same reason he didn’t.

  Her bikini was modest—as bikinis went—but it was a bikini. His hands encircled her waist, felt her soft skin and slid up to cup her breasts.

  Her eyes went wide as she swayed into his hands. His thumbs traced the round upper curve of her breasts. Then he leaned forward and unfastened the top of her bikini. “Is this all right?” he murmured as he did it, not wanting to remind her in any way of that night in the club.

  “I want you to touch me, Rafe.”

  He liked Gabby’s decisive clarity, especially now. The bikini top floated away in the water. Rafe barely noticed as he bent his head to her breasts and kissed first one and then the other. Gabby’s fingers laced in the hair at the back of his head. When he took her nipple into his mouth and tongued it, she softly moaned.

  He did it again.

  “I want to hold you,” she said, her lips near his neck.

  He wasn’t sure what she meant, but he raised his head and she moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around him. Her gesture moved him more than anything else could have. He held her, his heart pounding, his body aching for hers.

  Slowly he bent his head and sealed his lips to hers. Then his tongue invaded her mouth. She loosened her hold on him, her hands sliding down his back under the waistband of his swim trunks. The contact of her skin on his was electrifying. He hadn’t been touched intimately by a woman for so long. He could take her right here in the privacy of the rooftop.

  Privacy? What was he thinking?

  He wasn’t thinking. He was feeling…with a part of his anatomy that had never gotten him into trouble before, but could now.

  As her hands moved on his backside, he sucked in a breath. Thoughts from a moment before fled. Arousal clouded his brain like a red haze. He kissed her as if he had never kissed her before and might never kiss her again. While his lips and tongue were busy with that, he pushed down her bikini bottom.

  Her hands stilled. Not only stilled, but froze, along with the rest of her body. Where she’d been pushing into him before, pushing toward him, reaching around him, she went stiff. He tried to clear the red haze and could hardly grasp the concept that he wanted to. He hadn’t been with a woman in five years and now he was ready to go off like a torpedo.

  If he’d learned anything since his college days, he’d learned self-control. It had started in his training as a cop. It had expanded to an art form as a Secret Service agent. He knew he could probably convince her to go further. After all, she’d been as passionate as he’d been. But now something had gotten in the way and he had to find out what. He wanted to let her make the moves, though. Let her tell him. Let her decide what she wanted to do next. It was the only way she wouldn’t feel compromised. The only way he wouldn’t feel as if he’d taken advantage of her.

  Her hands slid out of his swim trunks. They hesitated, then folded at his back. When he gazed into her eyes, he saw turmoil there. Before they got into what was going on, he pulled up her bikini bottom. Her cheeks flushed and it was more of a blush than he had ever seen on her.

  “I didn’t mean we should stop everything,” she admitted shakily.

  “What part of it did you want to stop?” he asked with the cool reasoning he reached for in sticky situations.

  “Rafe, I loved what we were doing. I really did. But I don’t want you to think I do this every day, that I’m some kind of tease. Because I’m not. Miko was my first. I was telling the truth about that.”

  “Did you feel we were going too far too fast?”

  “I think fast would have taken us exactly where we wanted to go. But that’s why I stopped. Because I thought about afterward.”

  “You flying to Italy? Me going to New York?”

  “No. I just had a question.”

  If he answered the question right, could they get back to what they were doing? Probably not. The mood had been fatally broken.

  “What question?” This was probably going to be a humdinger.

  “You said you didn’t date after your wife died.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you…did you have sex with anyone?”

  He kept silent for a long time, still holding Gabby, still gazing into her eyes. Suddenly, any anger or defensiveness or annoyance at her question fell away. He needed to tell her the truth.

  “About a month after Connie died, I had a one-night stand with someone from work. But that night was a complete contradiction to everything Connie and I had. I never did it again.”

  Her arms tightened again a little, maybe in comfort, maybe in sympathy.

  A giant “no” built up inside of him. He didn’t want comfort or sympathy from her. What he wanted, he couldn’t even name.

  “What are you getting at, Gabby?”

  “This is hard for me to ask, so it will probably be hard for you to answer. But I need to know. Do you still love Connie?”

  That wasn’t what he expected, though with Gabby he never knew what to expect. He released his arms from her and took a step back. The water was less forgiving than real space. It seemed to keep him closer to her.

  She let go of him, too, but the look in her eyes said she didn’t want to.

  The pain he’d held inside for five long years spurted out. “Thinking about Connie and remembering her hurts. Don’t you understand that, Gabby? It’s not the kind of hurt from stubbing your toe or slicing your finger. It never goes away. It never heals. What makes it worse is that you think you’re forgetting all the things you loved most. I wake up and can’t quite remember the timbre of Connie’s laugh, the mussy way her hair fell around her face in the morning. Do you know what it’s like to lose the memories of the one you love?”

  “I can’t even imagine,” she almost whispered. Then her voice grew stronger. “The reason I stopped, the reason I had to ask was—If you still love her, I don’t want to feel like a substitute.”

  “You’re not a substitute,” he erupted, all calm gone now.

  “What am I, Rafe? A pretty girl you’d like to have sex with?”

  That question stumped him. If he said she was, he’d be in trouble. If he said she wasn’t, he’d be in trouble. If he kept silent, he’d be in trouble. He was in so deep, he might never make it out.

  So he fell back on being reasonable. “This attraction between us happened fast. We both wanted to explore it. I didn’t think further than that.”

  She stood perfectly still, gazing into his eyes and searching for truth. “You’re not answering my question. Don’t spin this for the best effect. Just honestly tell me. What was going to happen here, Rafe? More importantly, what was going to happen afterward?”

  “I wasn’t thinking about afterward! I didn’t think you were, either. What’s wrong with just living for now? For getting some enjoyment out of now? For feeling pleasure now?”

  When she shook her head, tendrils of wet hair slipped over her shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong with it if that’s what you want. I’m just not sure that’s what I want.”

  Frustrated beyond sense, he couldn’t imagine where she was going with this. “Gabby. You’re famous. You jet-set all over the world. You have women who design dresses for you. You have an artist in Rome who’s going to make you a line of purses. You can buy as many pairs of shoes as you want and wear them as many places as you’d like. You like talking to people, being in the limelight, even being in front of the cameras when it’s your choice.”

  “And because of all that you don’t think I want a serious relationship?”

  He’d never thought about it. After all, the last thing he’d wanted was to be involved in a relationship, wasn’t it? “I don’t know. Do you?”

&nb
sp; “Only with someone who has no ties to the past. Someone who wants a serious relationship, too. Someone who wouldn’t be afraid to look further than the next year and glimpse what the future might hold.”

  He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She’d recently jumped out of a relationship that had hurt her. “Oh, Gabby. You might think you want that now. But you’re on the rebound. You want to know you’re beautiful. You want to know you’re desirable and that a man wants to be only with you.”

  She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. “You think I’m attracted to you on the rebound?”

  “Can you say you’re not?”

  “I’m not on the rebound, Rafe. I might not be completely over the situation with Miko because it was a troubling one. But I am over him. I’m over what I thought we had because we didn’t have it. I’m not a sixteen-year-old who moves from crush to crush not understanding how one relationship can be different from another.”

  “You said you haven’t had much experience. How do you know if you’re jumping into a situation that’s right for you or wrong for you?”

  “I just know. But I’m not the one who’s shackled by a past relationship. You’re the one who isn’t free.”

  Did he even desire to be free? Or did he want to be tied to Connie for the rest of his life? Did he want to think about the child they might have had?

  Quickly, Gabby caught her bikini top and put it on. Then she headed for the steps. “I’ve had enough swimming for tonight. I’m going back to the room. If you want to stay, feel free.”

  “You know I can’t stay,” he said to her back, feeling as if he’d lost the bond that had developed between them.

  “You can just see me to my suite and then come back up. I promise I won’t go anywhere.”

  Maybe tonight that was a good idea. Maybe if he returned up here and swam enough laps to push his demons off his heels, he could be with Gabby tomorrow without remembering how close they’d come to making this assignment of his a disaster.

  Yes, he’d return and work off all the adrenaline. He’d work off all the desire. He’d work off all the longing.

  And then he could go back to the suite and guard Gabby as if she were any other client.