Читать книгу Safe by His Side - Linda Conrad - Страница 11

“He’s a part owner of his family’s investigations and protection business,” Max explained after Blythe told him that she wanted Ethan replaced. “And the best bodyguard available. Until a few weeks ago he worked for the U.S. Secret Service—the presidential detail. They’re the most elite bodyguards in the nation. We couldn’t ask for a better man to guard Ashley.”

“But…” Stuck, Blythe couldn’t manufacture a good enough reason to get rid of the guy in view of this information. She’d wanted to say she could take care of guarding Ashley herself. After all, Blythe felt competent at almost everything where Ash was concerned. But not this time. She certainly could not compete with a member of the elite presidential bodyguard detail.

Max patted her arm as they sat together on Melissa’s huge theater-room sofa. “I’ve known his family for a long time. Since before he was born. His grandfather was an old friend. I’d like to lend my support to the security firm Ethan and his brother and sister are trying to get off the ground. They’re good people. They deserve a shot.

“Look,” Max continued in his gruff but congenial voice. “Ethan may have had a bit of trouble in his life, but as far as I can tell, none of it has been his fault. Maybe you two just got off to a shaky start and can overcome it. What do you say we give him another chance? Ashley needs the best bodyguard available.”

Max Slotsmeyer had to be in his mid-seventies, but he was still every bit as sharp as a row of shark’s teeth. At one time everyone in the business had even called him the Shark. He’d been one of the best entertainment attorneys in the world, but today he had cut his client list down to one. He still managed Ashley’s career, but only because he and his wife were like grandparents to Melissa. They’d taken her and Ashley in when Ash was a baby, after Melissa’s husband had been killed in a car accident. Without Max, Blythe didn’t imagine Ashley would’ve ever made it to megastar status.

Blythe liked and respected Max. In fact, she owed her job to him. When she’d made that hideous mistake about a year ago, Max had interceded on her behalf with Melissa. With that in mind, and especially knowing Max was set on it, Blythe decided to suck up whatever problems she had with Ethan and give the guy a second chance.

“Okay, Max. I’ll try to be more forgiving. It’s not like I’ve never made a mistake, is it?”

Max chuckled. “Good girl. I know you want the best for Ash. We all do. Where’s Ethan right now?” he added in a change of thought.

She shrugged. “I think he’s still out combing the neighborhood with the Beverly Hills police.”

“That’s fine,” Max said as he stood. “I’m going over to visit with Melissa for a few minutes. Maybe I’ll catch him on my way back. If not, make him comfortable here. Give him whatever he needs to do his job.”

Max stood and reached into his breast pocket for the ever-present cigar. Blythe had never seen him light up, but he carried one in his fingers at all times. Apparently old-time Hollywood agents and managers considered expensive Cubans to be part of the uniform of the day.

Blythe murmured her thanks and watched Max lumber toward the patio door on his way to the pool house. Now she had no choice but to find a way of dealing with Ethan.

Ethan worked into the night, setting up the intercom system between Ashley’s bedroom and the guest room located two doors away. With the over-the-phone assistance of the security-alarm firm, he’d reset the alarms on all four zones. Tomorrow at 6:00 a.m. the company was sending a team to rekey the doors and adding an additional security man to guard the front gate.

Ethan’s job description called for him to stick with Ashley. But he was smart enough to know that even children needed a little space. He remembered from his presidential duty that having ever-present security hovering over your shoulder could be just as stressful as a stalker. So he had come up with the idea of moving the previously unused baby-intercom system from Melissa’s master suite bedroom into the guest room where he would be spending nights.

When he plugged in the last of the wires, the first thing Ethan heard over the line was Blythe tucking Ashley into bed. He couldn’t make out the girl’s words, but Blythe spoke in soft, soothing tones. It surprised him when her husky, low whispers seemed to wrap around his body like a lover’s thighs. His skin buzzed with physical awareness and he caught the brunt of shocked awakening straight in his groin. Hell. Where did that come from?

Leaning back in the guest room’s overstuffed chair, he fought his response by closing his eyes and keeping one ear out for any trouble. A few reminders of the job he hadn’t been all that happy to take in the first place ought to do the trick and bring his body back under control.

Blythe was reassuring Ashley. “We’re safe and your mother is getting the best care,” she told the child. “You have two more days left until shooting ends for the season. You know what your mother expects. Nothing’s happened tonight that should change that.”

“But, Blythe—”

“Nuh-uh, honey. It’s not time to goof off yet. We’ll get a few days free while we’re on tour this summer, I promise.”

“But I want to spend tomorrow with Mama before we have to leave town.”

Blythe tried to convince the little girl that her mother would rather Ashley do her job and live up to her obligations. But the quiet words bothered Ethan. Obligations at seven years old?

At Ashley’s continued objections, Blythe’s tone began changing from soothing and sexy to stern. It made Ethan think back to times when his own mother had tried convincing him to keep on working at whatever summer job or afterschool chore his father had forced on him at the time. But it was his father’s words from those long-ago days that still rang over and over in his ears all these years later.

“You’re a worthless bum,” Brody Ryan used to tell him. “You’ll never amount to a dime.”

Thinking back on it now, Ethan had seemed determined to prove his old man right. Before his mother died, he would cut school, get drunk and drive his pickup wildly through the countryside shooting up road signs with a rifle. He’d even dabbled in black witchcraft and tried dope. Anything and everything his father might consider trouble.

But after his mother died in that plane crash, all Ethan could remember being was angry. Mad at his mother for leaving and furious at his father for caring more about the ranch and money than he did for his children.

The last thread to Ethan’s wild childhood had been cut about six months after his mother’s death when his father packed up their beloved grandmother, Abuela Lupe, and carted her off to his maternal family’s ancestral home in Mexico. Lupe’s mother, his great-grandmother—the black witch of Veracruz—had promptly cursed the entire family in her anger over the mistreatment of her daughter. And the curse had taken hold. Brody Ryan would have no grandchild. Ethan, his brother and sister would all be sterile from that day forward.

Ethan hadn’t really paid much attention to the family curse. His whole life had felt as though it were cursed anyway. What did it matter to him if he couldn’t have children? Great. One less worry to slow him down on his way to the freedom of adult life.

When Blythe’s raised voice came irritably through the intercom, Ethan focused back on the present. “Enough now, Ash,” she said. “You are going to work in the morning as usual, and we will be leaving on schedule for the tour. Period. Now go to sleep.”

Ethan shifted in the chair and kicked off his boots, listening as Blythe could be heard checking the child’s windows and shutting the hall door on her way out. The woman was simply too serious and demanding to be a child’s guardian. Her tone had ended up sounding more like a drill sergeant’s. The fact was, Ashley probably deserved a day off after tonight’s excitement. Give the poor little kid a break. Her mother was dying, after all.

Annoyed with Blythe again, and with himself for having inappropriate physical reactions to someone he had to work with, he began wondering about Blythe’s background and how she’d ended up here. Ethan settled in to wait until the rest of the house went quiet for the night. Until he could recheck the perimeters and triple-check all the alarms. There wouldn’t be much sleep for him tonight, but he didn’t require much.

As he waited, he decided to review the file on Blythe Cooper that Maggie had sent along with the files on Ashley and Melissa Davis. Ethan’s new sister-in-law, Clare, was a real geek when it came to ferreting out background info. She’d been a reporter before she and her son had gone on the run from her ex, and maybe that explained her excellent instincts when it came to digging up important intel. Ethan rather liked his brother’s wife and was glad to have Clare both in the family and at work in their new security business.

He opened the report on Blythe and thumbed through the pages he’d only skimmed on the plane ride out here. Blythe Cooper, age twenty-seven, had been raised in a college town in South Carolina by her mother and father, both college professors. Her older brother was one of those child-prodigy geniuses who’d graduated from college at age seventeen and had gone on to do physics research and now drew exterior designs for NASA. Blythe’s younger sister also had a high IQ, but her main interest seemed to be winning beauty pageants. Currently, the sister was Miss South Carolina and headed for the Miss U.S.A. pageant.

Quite the family tree for a plain Jane like Ms. Cooper.

Blythe herself had graduated from college, but at a more sedate pace. She’d earned a master’s degree afterward in education, had taught elementary school and managed to win a Teacher of the Year award before quitting and coming to California to become Ashley’s tutor a couple of years ago.

On the personal front, Blythe had been a studious teenager and had no trouble in school. Well, that seemed right—and about as far from his own background as could be. After college she’d married a Ph.D. candidate whom she’d met through her parents. The two had divorced a few months before Blythe accepted the tutor position.

The pages of Blythe’s report ran out there and Ethan closed the file. Not much to go on to explain her attitude thus far. And certainly nothing to explain why the sound of her voice and the tilt in her chin caused him to suddenly become so aware of her. It made him wonder what she’d done besides work since moving to California. Had his sister-in-law missed something important from Blythe’s personal life over the last few years? Did this woman have a secret life that would explain why he felt so tense around her?

So far she’d been as annoying as hell to him. But even with that, there was something about her that reached out to him and made him curious. Because he couldn’t imagine why he felt the way he did. Blythe didn’t look a thing like his normal choice of female companion, and her background didn’t appear to have been complicated or demanding. By the sound of that report, she was just what she appeared. Perhaps she’d been born into an extraordinary family, but the divorced teacher turned tutor turned guardian wasn’t anything to write home about.

Still…there was something.

Yawning and becoming resigned to working with her regardless of how he felt, Ethan hoped the police would be able to get a line on the little girl’s stalker soon so he could turn the job over to someone else and go on to the next thing.

Still not sure the direction the rest of his life would take after this assignment, Ethan was positive of one thing. Working with Blythe Cooper had to be just a short-term arrangement.

Despite the fact she hadn’t gotten a whole lot of sleep, Blythe woke up at 5:30 a.m. clear-eyed and ready to face the day. Yeah, and what a great day, with Ashley acting irritable and anxious and with herself having to face the new bodyguard again.

Terrific.

Suddenly grouchy, Blythe headed for the shower. She had lain awake most of the night hating herself for the tone she’d had to take with Ash at bedtime. The child was usually so good and sweet and never caused anyone a moment’s problem. But of course that was all back before her mother had moved out to the pool house to die and then refused to let Ashley slack off from work for even so much as one lousy morning.

It wasn’t fair. But then life wasn’t fair, was it? If life always turned out the way you wanted, then Melissa wouldn’t be dying and there would be no stalker to threaten a little girl star—and no need for a bodyguard to drive Blythe right up the wall.

But Blythe reminded herself that the best plan, the only plan, was for her to deal with Ash as gently as possible, and to deal with Ethan from a distance until the threat was gone.

Twisting the water faucets to hot, Blythe stripped and stepped under the spray. Trying not to think of the man, she soaped up and thought of him anyway.

Since the first time she’d seen him standing there in the shadows, Blythe had acknowledged that he must be one of the world’s top ten best-looking men. With his firm, solid jawline, the golden skin tone that spoke more of a Latin heritage than his Irish name might suggest and those wicked gray eyes—eyes that seemed to take in everything and could go from charming playboy to dedicated bodyguard in an instant—Ethan Ryan would be a hard man to forget.

As hot water sluiced over her body, carrying soap bubbles down through every crevice, flickers of sexual tension licked across her belly. She absolutely refused to allow any such feelings. Blythe had long ago given up reacting to a pretty face and a charming demeanor. After last year’s fiasco, she’d sworn never to let another charmer worm his way under her defenses.

Never again. Her job, her relationship with Ash and her ego would never make it through another disaster as bad as falling for someone like that. Twice in her life was more than enough for any sane woman, thank you.

She twisted off the water and began towel-drying her hair. Going about the business of getting dressed for the day, Blythe tried to regroup so she could manage to face Ethan without letting him find any cracks in her facade.

Since Ash’s series production company would be shooting exterior shots for the last time today, Blythe decided to pull on a pair of jeans and a cotton sweater. After wrestling with the wild tangles on her head for a few minutes, she finally gave up and pulled it all back off her face with a fuzzy rubber band. Not a particularly flattering look for her she knew, but practical and easy.

With a slow, deep breath, she drew herself up and felt ready for anything. Until she stepped out of her room and stumbled at the surprising sight of Ethan, awake and dressed and standing in the hallway as though waiting for her. Bracing a hand on the wall, she had to take another deep breath before she could speak.

Leaning back against the threshold to Ash’s room, he stood with his arms folded, his chin set and those gray eyes watchful. Ethan didn’t so much as move an eyelash when he spotted her. With hair still slick from shower dew, a freshly shaven face and his chambray shirt sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, the bodyguard looked every bit as dangerous as a German shepherd guard dog. More so, because of what the sight of him did to her libido.

“What are you doing?” she demanded in a stage whisper. “Is something wrong or are you just being extra careful? Ash can’t be in that much danger inside her own room.”

With movements slow and deliberate, Ethan took her elbow and stepped two yards down the hall before he turned to speak. “Everything was quiet in there until about ten minutes ago. From the sounds of things, Ashley is up and moving around and may have been using her computer. It’s my job to be extra careful until the doors are rekeyed and a guard is in place on the gate. I’m here in case she needs anything.”

“You think the stalker might’ve left another one of those messages for her?” The thought made Blythe’s skin crawl. “It wouldn’t be possible unless he got into the house again somehow.”

Ethan’s jaw clenched. “No, that’s not what I think.” The intensity of his stare made her feel itchy and vulnerable. But her job wasn’t the only one on the line here, so she straightened her spine and lifted her chin as she got ready to let him have it.

Before she could open her mouth, he seemed to settle for a shrug. “Why don’t you go on in and check Ashley’s computer? See for yourself.”

Everything inside Ashley’s room seemed perfectly sound. The girl was in her bathroom, brushing her teeth and getting ready for the day. The note still blinking on the computer screen had come from her mother, reminding Ash of the day’s shooting schedule, what she should wear to the studio and that she should pay attention and do whatever the new bodyguard told her to do.

Blythe gritted her teeth. The irritation she automatically felt because of Melissa stepping onto her turf must be set aside. Blythe knew this note was nothing more than a last desperate grasp for the parental control that Melissa realized was slipping through her fingers for good.

Blythe was still plenty annoyed over Ethan’s earlier smug arrogance, and also that sensual glint in his eyes when he looked her way. But she didn’t want any of that to cost her the job she loved.

Vowing to stop letting him get to her, Blythe helped Ash get ready. At the last moment she found the day’s script pages stuffed under Ash’s bed, put them in her briefcase and then managed to grab them both a glass of OJ on the way out. Despite Blythe’s annoyance and her growing foul mood, she let Ethan usher them through the front door when the studio limo arrived to take them to the back lot.

This was going to be one hell of a long day.

As the limo pulled away from the Davis mansion’s cul-de-sac and headed toward Sunset Boulevard, a man huddled behind the wheel of his five-year-old Ford down the block and watched. Hidden beneath thick bougainvillea and oleander in the driveway of a neighbor who was out of town, the man took no notice of the morning’s sapphire-blue sky or the sweet, romantic scent of orange blossoms perfuming the Southern California air.

He’d seen enough to give him several new directions to follow. He had slowly worked at setting this plan in motion over the last month or so, and every detail needed to be perfect for him to get what he wanted.

Last night’s “stalker” note and the commotion that had followed had actually seemed to be accomplishing just what he’d hoped. Then a few hours ago he had been disappointed when the police left after only a cursory search. That kind of reaction wasn’t nearly good enough. They’d given up too soon. He would need to ramp up the tension.

But his plans were taking shape. The goal was in sight.