Guarding the Quarterback (Champions of the Heart #1) Page 2

  God, what was wrong with me? I’d never been bitchy to a client. I was the pillar of professionalism. The tough-girl act wasn’t planned, but it was clear when Dean entered the room that I had to establish from the get go that I wouldn’t take his shit. I had to prove it to him, to his agent, and to the owner, who I suspected was gauging my ability to handle his moronic star.

  Hell, I had to prove it to myself.

  I left the room, leaving Oslo and Williams to take care of the details of tonight’s watch with the rest of the security team. The secretary smiled and told me to have a nice day. She was Dean’s type to a T. I grunted, “You, too.”

  Dean was right about one thing. I was nothing like the girls I’d seen him photographed with.

  Not blonde enough, booby enough, girly enough, sexy enough, and certainly not dumb enough.

  As if I wanted to be any of those things.

  But in less than twenty-four hours, I needed to transform myself from a rough and tumble bodyguard into a woman everyone could believe Dean Walker gave up his little black book for. This was a job for Joffrey Stars.

  Joffrey had been dying to get his hands on me since junior high, where he went by Jeffery Sterling and I was his childhood protector. Now, as a stylist to the stars, he was more wealthy and famous than any of the kids who bullied us. Sending off a quick text, I wasn’t surprised by his immediate response.

  Hell hath surely frozen over.

  *

  I walked into Glamour Me, a one-stop makeover mecca, with indifference. This was a job. I wasn’t doing this to impress the Kings’ quarterback. I couldn’t care less what he thought about me. This was just another assignment, I repeated. Upon closing the door and taking a few steps inside, the flowery smells mixed with chemicals assaulted my nose. The well-coifed hairstylists turned to gawk at me, and the buzz of the female chatter died down to a murmur.

  My indifference turned to panic. Even though I was only five foot two, I felt like a bull in a china shop. I didn’t belong here. Inadequate didn’t begin to describe the way I felt. I decided to get the hell out before they could lay a hand on me. I turned to run.

  “Oh no you don’t,” Joffrey shouted from the row of salon chairs. “Grab her.”

  The receptionist lunged for the door and spread her arms out like I was trying to escape from a mental ward. Except, I was the sane one. Who sits for hours at a time in order to impress someone? I had better things to do with my time.

  “Damn it.” I trudged over to Joffrey who led me to his private workspace in the back.

  Dressed like a runway model, he was prettier than most women. If you passed him on the street, you wouldn’t know he was born a male. Gender ambivalent, he could also rock a business suit when he felt like it. If he could transform himself, maybe there was hope for me.

  “Let’s get this over with.” I plopped myself into the salon chair with a thud.

  “A little more enthusiasm for my artistry, please.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Now, let me see what I have to work with. Hmm. You always had the nicest skin.” Joffrey examined me like I was on the auction block, even lifting my upper lip. “Perfect teeth.”

  I smacked his hand away. “What am I, a horse?”

  He ignored me, tilting my chin to the side. “Beautiful bone structure. You just need a little spit and polish.”

  “Oh my God, please tell me that is not some kind of new beauty treatment.” Half serious and half joking, I knew women tried outrageous shit to keep the ravages of time at bay. From placenta facials to topically applied urine. No, thank you very much. I’d rather be an old hag.

  Flicking a comb in his hand, Joffrey said, “Honey, if it worked, I’d be selling my own spit for hundreds of dollars a bottle.”

  He tugged at the bun on the top of my scalp until the mousy brown mane fell loose in a tumble of waves to the middle of my back. It was the only thing feminine about me. I should have cut it a long time ago. Long hair was a pain in the ass, hence the bun, but something always held me back. After this assignment, I was determined to embrace my height and go for a pixie cut.

  “Honey, this is a rat’s nest.” He tugged the comb through the mass. “So why the change of heart? Please tell me it’s over a man.”

  “No. A high-profile case where I need to be a client’s arm candy.”

  “Who is it?”

  As a stylist to the biggest names in Hollywood, Joffrey knew how to keep his lip zipped, so I owned up to my assignment. “I’m protecting Dean Walker.”

  “Oh, so it is over a man. And a yummy one at that. I am so jelly!”

  “Don’t be. I’m only pretending to be his girlfriend to keep close to him. So I need to look slutty, because that’s his type.”

  “Girl, I don’t do slutty. You don’t want to be like all the rest. Make him see what he’s missing.”

  “My job is to keep him alive, nothing more. So, I’m thinking… blonde?” I winced.

  “Pfft, blonde is so cliché. No, we are going with salted caramel.”

  “I don’t want him to eat my hair.” I quirked a smile.

  “By the time I’m done with you, he’s going to want to devour you whole!”

  My blood heated with the thought of Dean Walker’s mouth on my skin. Would his beard tickle? Burn? Both?

  We chatted about the people we knew in high school. Who was in jail… Not surprised. On drugs… Again? In rehab… Again? Going through a divorce… What took her so long to dump him?

  Done with plastering my hair with dye and enough foils to channel radio signals from the other side of the universe, Joffrey asked, “Leg wax?”

  Since I’d be wearing short skirts, I nodded. I didn’t want to be shaving my legs everyday while on assignment. Being a woman sucked. Not that I wanted to be a man either. I guessed I was just as gender ambivalent as Joffrey was. Maybe that was why we were such good friends. Yet I dated only men while Joffrey dated both sexes like he was choosing between coffee or tea.

  “And a bikini wax?” He lowered his voice. “A Brazilian?” he added hopefully.

  “No one will be seeing my vagina.” I’d been too focused on my career to date, and Dean was strictly off-limits.

  While I waited for aesthetician to prep my legs, I went over the list of potential suspects. Who wanted Dean Walker dead? The possibilities were endless. A rejected groupie, a past girlfriend, a fan, someone the quarterback had pissed off?

  When the first strip was ripped off, I wanted to kill Dean myself for making me want to look the part. I was ready to hop off the table when another strip was ripped away. Fuck, that hurt! And women did this to their vagina?

  Once that was done, I was off to a makeup lesson. I could take down a guy twice my size and hit a target with my gun from fifty yards, but makeup application took a different skill set. Joffrey’s assistant had power shopped in the meantime, bringing me a wardrobe complete with accessories. Using my phone, I took a picture of each outfit so I wouldn’t forget the look.

  Three long hours later, Joffrey backed away. “Another masterpiece!”

  After being prodded, plucked, and waxed, I was ready for my reveal. With an eye roll worthy of a teenage girl, I slid off the chair without any great expectations. That way the disappointment of me still being me wouldn’t sting.

  I gazed into the full-length mirror and blinked. That was me?

  No, it couldn’t be. That woman was sexy. Pretty. The only hint of myself in the woman staring back at me was in the eyes. My expression was one of shock and awe.

  Standing behind me, Joffrey fussed with my hair. “See how the deep brunette color makes your light blue eyes pop and the soft caramel highlights combined with the cut, frames your heart-shaped face. You look like an angel.”

  The effect did create a mirage of softness that I never thought possible. But an angel? I held back a snort.

  “OMG.” The receptionist peeked in. “Why do you hide that hourglass figure underneath that hideous suit you walked in here we
aring? You look ten pounds thinner!”

  “Francine!” Joffrey admonished. “We do not insult the clientele about their fashion faux pas.” Turning back to me, he added, “Sorry, Alexa, she’s new.”

  “No, that suit was hideous, and she made up for it by telling me I look ten pounds thinner.” I was happy about the compliment. What woman wouldn’t be? See, I was already turning into one of them!

  But the light blue pencil skirt with dark blue polka dots did hug my tiny waist, and the blue blouse revealed a hint of cleavage that had never seen the light of day. The thick heels were a reasonable three inches in height, but I doubted I’d be able to chase down an assailant if I had to. Maybe with some practice I’d learn.

  Holy crap. Maybe I could pull this off.

  Now, would I be taken seriously? This job would prove to Ian that I could handle a high-profile case. And that I had what it took to protect a man. “Where am I going to hide my gun?”

  Tossing me a matching light blue jacket, Joffrey said, “I had a pocket sewn in. Denise is working on the rest of the clothing.”

  Along with my concealment undergarments, which would hide a smaller gun, I’d be packing heat like I normally did. “You’re the best fairy godmother a bodyguard could have.”

  “Ha! Cinderella was lucky I wasn’t her fairy godmother. This queen would have stolen her prince.”

  I laughed. “Believe me, Dean Walker is no prince.”

  “Well, if I can turn you from ho-hum to a hubba-hubba in a day, you can turn Walker from a frog to a prince.”

  “That’s not in the job description. I’m only supposed to protect the frog not kiss it.” Still, I wondered what Dean would think when he saw my transformation, and I hated myself for it.

  Joffrey popped another button on my blouse and adjusted my boobs to show more cleavage than I was comfortable with. “Mixing business with pleasure is not a crime.”

  But according to Ian’s Security’s employee handbook it was against the rules. A bodyguard should never get involved with the body they were protecting. The employees with a dick, however, broke the rule all the time. Everyone, including me, turned a blind eye to it. But as a woman, it would end my career. It was unfair, but unfair didn’t matter in the real world.

  “And would it kill you to smile?”

  “It might.” But I risked death and smiled anyway. “Thank you.” I kissed Joffrey on the cheek. “I love it. Please send the clothes to my apartment. The bill goes to Ian’s Worldwide Security. Add a nice tip for everyone who helped me.”

  Mastering the three-inch heels would take some time, but I walked out of Glamour Me with a lot more confidence than I did going in.

  I might not be a blonde bombshell, but Dean Walker was about to be blindsided.

  Chapter 3

  Dean

  Who the hell was knocking at my door at 7:00 a.m.? Normally, I’d be in bed with a smoking, curvy body snaked around me. Instead I’d become the fucking poster boy for celibacy. Horny as hell, I was not in a good mood. I whipped the door open, ready to take my frustration out on whoever was on the other side.

  A barrel of a gun stared back at me. What the fuck? You would think my quick reflexes on the field would serve me off it. In this case they didn’t.

  “Bang, bang, you’re dead,” quipped Reeves. My bodyguard smirked as she lowered her gun. “The security in this building sucks. I swept right by the doorman. And if you bothered to check the peephole, you wouldn’t be shitting in your Superman boxers right now.”

  She breezed by, rolling a large suitcase behind her. Half naked, I just stood there, thunderstruck. Because of how Reeves looked with her hair down or because of the gun, I couldn’t say—or admit to.

  Turning my head as she passed, I detected a slight wobble in her gait, from the heels no doubt. Still, her ass had a sexy sway in the body-hugging skirt. And what a body she had. Why did she hide those curves underneath boxy suits? Criminal. Hitting just above the knee, there was nothing criminal about the length of her skirt. She rocked it like that chick from Madmen, and somehow it was way hotter than a miniskirt.

  Parking the suitcase by the end table, she turned and slid the gun inside her blazer, like it was a wallet instead of a weapon.

  She was a walking contradiction. Was I more turned on by the way she handled the gun or by her cleavage beckoning me to suffocate myself in it? And those lips, now enhanced with a red gloss, made my morning hard-on roar back with a vengeance.

  She looked soft. Touchable. But the look was lost in translation when it came to her body language. With her hands on her hips, she was as tough as the steel of the gun she carried. “Are you going to shut the door or what?”

  Fuck. Pissed that she’d caught me off guard in more ways than one—seriously, I was wearing the Superman boxers my nephew gave me for Christmas last year—I slammed the door and walked toward her. I didn’t have a problem with guns, but guilt by association could, at the very least, land me a fine with the league. “The gun laws in the city are strict. Am I going to get in trouble if you get caught?”

  “The employees of Ian’s Security have special licenses to carry concealed weapons.”

  “Do you have more guns on you?”

  “Now where else would I be packing?” She opened up her arms revealing a tiny waist that I bet my hands could span.

  “Hmm.” I leisurely eyeballed her from toe to head. She certainty didn’t look like a bodyguard. The transformation from yesterday was astonishing. From GI Jane to Tinker Bell sexpot. “Nowhere that I can see. Maybe I should frisk you?”

  “You could try.” Her smile was more of a smirk, daring me to do exactly that.

  Oh yeah, Reeves was wrestle-you-to-the-ground sexy. But I preferred a bed. “Since you’re obviously not here to take care of this…” I pointed to the tent in my boxers. “Why exactly are you here? And what’s with the suitcase?”

  Dropping her gaze, she arched an eyebrow, then looked back up to meet my eyes. “I’ll be living here and driving you to practice each day like a dutiful girlfriend.”

  This was getting interesting. Still, having her around all the time would be a mix of inconvenience and temptation. “I only have one bed. And I’m not sleeping on the couch.”

  “I’m taking the couch. It has a perfect view of the front door.”

  She was hardcore. I took a step closer. “What if I said I’d feel safer if you were in bed with me?”

  “Let’s get something straight. I’m your bodyguard, not a body you’re going to be banging.”

  “That’s too bad. You have a banging hot body.” I took another step. Close enough to kiss her. Her beautiful light blue eyes rimmed with gray widened, but she didn’t back away.

  “Hot enough that your friends will believe us as a couple?”

  “No.”

  “Oh.”

  The wounded look in her eyes punched me in the gut. I was a total bastard for playing her like this. “You don’t look like a hooker.”

  The beginnings of a smile lifted at the corners of her luscious mouth. “Consider me an upgrade.” She backed away, dismissing me.

  This was going to be tougher than I thought. I couldn’t take my eyes off her ass as she strode to the window in full bodyguard mode. The urge to hike up the tight skirt to her hips and bend her over the couch hit me hard. She pushed open the curtains, yanking me out of my fantasy. The sunlight blasted in, reminding me that I had to get to practice.

  “Nice view,” she said without turning around.

  “Thanks.” It cost a pretty penny, a lot of pretty pennies. I loved New York City, but the energy could be draining. Up here, I felt like I wasn’t living in the city.

  Her hand swept the skyline. “There’s no line of sight.”

  “As in a sniper?” I shook my head. “Aren’t you taking this a little too seriously?”

  “Aren’t you taking it a lot too lightly?”

  Yeah, this was going to be a lot tougher than I thought. With the way she blocked, she co
uld be on my offensive line.

  “Maybe,” I conceded.

  “I’ll need your phone.” She held out her hand.

  “Why?”

  “I need to check your texts, emails, and photos for any suspicious activity that you might have ignored or thought unimportant. My team has already gone through your social-media accounts, tracking back three months. And I also need your schedule for the coming week. And a key to the apartment.”

  This was starting to get a little too real for me. I’d shrugged off yesterday’s meeting and hadn’t given a second thought to the death threat until I answered the door with a gun to my face as my wakeup call.

  “The schedule is no problem, but my phone is private. I have sensitive information on it.” The thought of giving her or any woman a key turned my stomach.

  She snorted, which actually sounded kind of cute. “Sensitive my ass. Look, we can do this the easy way.”

  “Or?”

  “I can hack my way in.”

  “Christ.” Fine. Let her read the sex texts and see the naked pictures chicks sent to me on a daily basis. Maybe she’d be shocked enough to quit. Who would want to protect someone like me anyway? “It’s on the coffee table.” The alarm from my bedroom blared. “The code is thirteen-thirteen. I have to get ready for practice.”

  I took a quick shower, taking care of my hard-on in record speed, fantasizing about Reeves’s sassy and luscious mouth doing the work instead of my hand, while she was in the next room scrolling through naked picture after naked picture of other women.

  She was swiping the screen with her thumb when I walked out of my bedroom dressed in khaki pants and a black polo shirt. Smiling, I wondered what she would say if I told her that we had been intimate in my shower.

  “Oh, this is so just too good to be true. Priceless.” Reeves barked out a laugh.

  When she flicked her fingers for the zoom function, I became curious to what she was looking at. I crooked my head to see the screen. Shit. An old photo of my junk took up the whole viewing area. I thought I’d deleted it after sending it to an actress I’d been dating. I made a grab for the phone, but I wasn’t quick enough.