The Bodyguard & Ms Jones. Susan Mallery
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the corner of his mouth. One eyebrow raised expectantly. She didn’t know if he was annoyed or mad.
“It’s Friday,” she said at last. “If it makes you feel any better, on Monday we generally discuss women being naked. We try to be fair about it.”
Mike grinned. Cindy returned his smile, her relief tangible.
“Beth sounds like a scary lady,” he said.
“She’s really very nice. Oh, did you hear about the barbecue?”
“Just a word here and there.” He’d been asleep until a strange woman had tiptoed into his room. Their conversation had carried to him in the quiet house, although when they ran water in the kitchen, it drowned out the sound of their voices.
“Everyone will want to meet you,” she said. “You’re something of a local celebrity. Not just because you’re Grace’s brother, but what with your work and the injuries...”
He remembered his sister’s instructions to be nice to her friends. “I’ll go,” he said, and knew he would hate everything about the evening.
“It’s not until a week from Saturday. I’m sure you’ll be better.”
“I hope so.” He flexed his sore leg and winced.
“I need to change the bandage,” she said.
He nodded and flipped back the covers. Cindy went into the bathroom and came back with a small box containing her supplies. She took her nursing very seriously. As he scooted over to give her more room, she settled on the edge of the mattress. He grabbed his leg below the healing bullet wound and raised it while she slipped a towel underneath.
“We’re getting to be quite a team,” he said.
“Practice.” Her hands were small but sure. She gave him a quick, apologetic glance, then carefully removed the bandage.
She studied the hole in his thigh. It was sort of lumpy and still red but it wasn’t infected and didn’t bleed anymore.
“I think it’s better,” she told him.
He leaned back as she continued her treatment. Over the smell of disinfectant, he caught the fragrance of her perfume. In the last four days, he’d accepted the fact that she was only ever going to wear shorts and a T-shirt around him and that he’d better get used to long honey-colored legs taunting him at every turn. He wondered how men in the suburbs got anything done with all these half-naked women around. Maybe they became immune, or didn’t bother noticing. If so, they were fools.
Having Cindy bend over his injury, with her light brown hair falling loose and her face all scrunched up with concentration, was the best part of his day. Her friend across the street might be all hot to see him naked, but he didn’t think Cindy ever noticed he wasn’t wearing anything but briefs. To her, he was simply Grace’s brother. Almost a eunuch.
Of course, if he kept noticing the way her breasts moved, she would soon have proof he was very much a man. Instead of indulging himself, he forced his thoughts elsewhere. In the last four days he’d learned two things. First, Sugar Land, Texas, wasn’t like anywhere he’d ever been before. Even sleeping half the day away, he sensed the difference. Second, Cindy Jones wasn’t for him. He might admire her legs, and the way she filled out her shirt, but she was as off-limits as his best friend’s wife. If he had a best friend. She’d just admitted she’d only been with one man in her life. He’d never dated anyone for more than a month. He didn’t believe in relationships, she needed to be married.
She applied a fresh bandage. “The kids are outside playing,” she said and stood up. She reached for the pair of jeans she’d folded earlier and placed on the footboard. “If you can get dressed and out to the family room before they come inside, that means you get to control the TV remote. If you don’t, they have the power.”
He shuddered at the thought. “Do you know what’s in those cartoons?”
“Yes, that’s why I try to be out of the room.” She tossed him the jeans, then bent over his duffel bag and dug out a T-shirt. “Think of it as your aerobics exercise for the day. A race for the remote control.”
His heart was already getting a workout, he thought, watching the way the fabric of her shorts pulled tight around her derriere. The feminine curves tempted him. He didn’t know what the problems had been in her marriage, but he was willing to bet her husband hadn’t left because he wanted someone better-looking. If Mike was wrong, her husband was a fool.
Cindy tossed him a T-shirt then started for the door. Before she left, she glanced back at him. “About Beth,” she said, then nibbled on her lower lip. “She’s just talking. She tries to be very worldly and all, but she’s in love with her husband. She’d never actually do anything.”
“I know.”
“I just didn’t want you to think that she was like that.”
“Maybe when I meet her, I should offer her a quick look.”
Cindy laughed. “Only if I can be there to see the expression on her face.”
“Deal.”
“Get dressed, eat your snack, then head for the family room. The kids will be outside for another half hour or so.”
With that, she left. He found it humorous that she would tend to the wound on his thigh but she always left him alone to dress. She treated him with amused tolerance. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d joked with someone, or bothered to relax. He’d been working too hard, without a break between jobs.
If nothing else, this forced time off would give him a chance to regroup. As soon as he was able, he could move into Grace’s house. Once there, he would think about what it was he wanted to do with his life. His recent encounter with death had him wondering about different career options. He was pushing forty. Next time he might not be so lucky.
He grabbed his jeans and started to slip them on his good leg. Before he’d pulled them up past his knee, there was a scream from outside.
“Mommy, Mommy, Allie’s been hurt.”
“Allison!”
Mike heard Cindy race through the house, open the front door and call for her daughter. He jerked on the jeans, and about lost his balance when his head started to swim. He grabbed the footboard and held on. The room twirled and darkened, then slowly returned to normal. He pulled the trousers up over his hips and quickly fastened the buttons. He started out the door in a slow shuffling step.
Pain radiated from his bullet wound. Darkness nipped at the edges of his vision. He could hear conversation and someone crying. As he reached the entryway, Cindy came in carrying Allison in her arms.
The little girl was sobbing. She clung to her mother as blood oozed from a scrape on her knee. Behind them, Jonathan and a couple of other kids he didn’t know trailed in. Cindy looked up and saw him.
“Mike, could you bring that box of medical supplies into the kitchen, please?” Before he answered, she looked over her shoulder. “Billy and Ashley, you’re going to have to go home now. Jonathan, shut the door.”
Mike headed for the bathroom. By the time he got to the kitchen, he was breathing hard and hanging on to walls for support. Jonathan stood by the entrance to the family room, just watching. Cindy had settled on one of the kitchen chairs, with Allison’s injured leg propped up on the one next to it. Using a damp washcloth to wipe away the dirt, Cindy cleaned the still-bleeding wound.
Mike shuffled forward and placed the first-aid kit on the table. Cindy glanced up at him. Her green eyes widened. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Take a seat.”
He sank onto the chair across from hers.
Allison’s cries had quieted to sniffles, but she still kept her face buried in her mother’s neck. She winced as the washcloth touched her scrape.
“Hush, baby girl,” Cindy