Total pages in book: 188
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 185811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 929(@200wpm)___ 743(@250wpm)___ 619(@300wpm)
“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.
CHAPTER 3
“Morning, Ziggy.”
“Morning, Miss Cooper.”
Giant-ass size mug of coffee in hand, I shuffled back into the spare bedroom, where an abundance of packing boxes awaited. “Are the hordes still downstairs?”
“Yes, they are.”
“Great. Must be a slow news week.”
And details of my gruesome bloody delivery had indeed spread everywhere. Having been bombarded with messages and calls, I’d made the smart decision to mute my cell. After first posting a behind-the-scenes picture from the recent shoot in New Orleans on Instagram and calling my mom, of course. She’d been horrified and pressed to come stay with me. I barely managed to convince her it wasn’t necessary. I needed some space to deal with things right now and having Ziggy and all his hotness in my face was already more than I could handle. I knew my mom would take over the place with a lot of good intentions but not much awareness of my slowly growing freak-out, barely being kept under control.