The Heiress and The Bodyguard. Ryanne Corey
“This is a real red-letter day for you, isn’t it? In case no one has told you this, people who drive exotic sports cars are not supposed to leave the keys in the ignition.”
“I’m not some kind of dimwit. Whether you believe it or not, I don’t make a habit of leaving my keys in the ignition. I wasn’t thinking straight at the time. That disgusting person who apparently made off with my car really had me rattled.” She paused, blinking away the moisture gathering in her eyes. “What else could go wrong tonight?”
Despite his own frustration, Billy wanted to erase the forlorn look on her beautiful face. “Look at the bright side, kiddo. He left you that fine 1969 Ford pickup for trade. You could sell it for parts.”
A loud sniff. “These kinds of things never happened before.”
“Welcome to the real world. So what now?”
Julie looked at Billy sideways, biting her lip. “Well…I might need another little ride.”
“Another little ride?”
“Just to a telephone,” she assured him. “We could head back in the general direction of Palm Beach and stop at the first telephone we come across. I’ll just call Harris and…you could go on your merry way.”
Billy’s forehead thumped on the steering wheel. “I feel like I’m in a nightmare and can’t wake up,” he muttered. “You’re like a little tornado, creating havoc wherever you touch down. I really feel for your poor brother.”
“My poor brother won’t know I’m gone until the morning.” Julie’s lower lip quivered ever so slightly. “And there’s no need to be insulting. We all have our areas of expertise.”
Despite everything, Billy’s mouth tipped up on one side. “That’s true. I was under the impression you’re in the habit of depending on others, but maybe I was mistaken. Tell me, your area of expertise would be…?”
Julie thought. What on earth was she supposed to say, I’m a pro at using a charge card? “My area of expertise is none of your business. Suffice it to say I have one. Several. I have several areas of expertise.”
He smiled, his mouth curved with a hint of tenderness. He was finding it terribly hard to stay angry with her. He’d thought he had seen everything in his gritty days as an undercover cop, but he’d never come across a woman with so much spirit and so little experience to back it up. Strangely enough, he almost envied her in a wistful sort of way. What would it be like to have so little experience with the world that you expected the best from everyone? The way Billy figured it, if you had no illusions or expectations, they weren’t going to blow up in your face. Though it had never been a conscious choice he’d made, he’d been disillusioned almost from day one. When Billy was two years old, his father had gone out one night for a beer and never come back. His mother had her hands full keeping them both fed and clothed while she worked her way through school to get her RN degree. She’d done her best, but she didn’t have the time or resources to protect him from reality. Five years after she’d achieved her dream and become a nurse, she was diagnosed with leukemia. She had died four agonizing months later, with Billy by her side. The last thing she had said to him was “I’m sorry.” He had the feeling she wasn’t apologizing for dying on him, but for the circumstances under which she’d brought him into the world.
At that point, Billy began charting his own course. He’d decided early on to look at life as a very dangerous game. The more dangerous you were, the more likely you were to stay alive. He always expected the worst from his adversaries and was seldom disappointed. In Billy’s world, innocence was a weakness. Purity was extinct and idealism was a terrible flaw. It could get you killed.
This world was not a pretty place, damn it. Why did spending a couple of hours with Julie Roper make him wonder if he might have missed a rainbow somewhere along the way? He told himself he was an idiot, yet continued to watch her, devouring her with his thoughts. She dropped into the passenger seat of his car and slammed the door with a frustrated sigh.
“All I wanted was to go on a drive,” she whispered. “No Harris, no Beau, no chauffeur—”
“Wait a second. Who’s Beau?”
“What? Oh…he’s a friend. I just wanted some time to myself, no one escorting me, no one waiting anxiously for me to come back. Just a ride, that’s all I wanted.”
Just a ride, she’d said, but Billy heard the tremor of loneliness and defeat in her voice. With an odd sense of surprise, he realized he had been wrong about her motives. This wasn’t a joyride or even a small rebellion against a spoiled and privileged existence. This was something quite different. He watched the moistness gather in her eyes, saw the glitter of a single tear rolling down her soft cheek.
Billy was no stranger to a woman’s tears, but more often than not, they came from the wives, mothers or girlfriends of someone he’d locked up. Like everyone else in his line of work, he’d been trained to offer a professional compassion, which stopped short of genuine sympathy. As a matter of fact, he’d been famous for his emotional detachment.
Cool, calm and controlled under any circumstances. Yes, siree.
“Will you please not do that?” he said abruptly, an unusual tightness in his throat.
Julie sniffed loudly. “Do what?”
“That thing you keep doing. Crying.” Billy searched his pockets, coming up with a napkin from a fast-food joint. He was lucky to find that. He was the sort of man who carried a gun, not a nice white handkerchief. “Here. Blow your nose, and…and think happy thoughts.” Hell, he sounded like Mary Poppins.
Julie took the napkin and dabbed her nose, blinking away the tears blurring her vision. “I’m sorry. This is none of your concern. If you…if you could take me to a phone, I’ll call Harris and put an end to all this. You know what they say…try, try again another day.”
“Try what?” Billy asked suspiciously.
A slow-motion tear rolled down her cheek. “What business is it of yours? Why should you care if there’s a clock ticking in my life, if the sand is running out of the hourglass? The important thing is that I’m off your hands.”
“There you go with the high drama thing again. What are you talking about? What hourglass?”
In a tiny voice, “Never mind.”
“Look, Julie…I gave you a lift, no big deal. You’re in a pickle tonight, and I don’t think you’re too familiar with pickles. Under the circumstances, I suppose I could give you a ride home.”
“I may not know exactly where I am, but I know it’s a good long way from my home in Palm Beach.” She stopped sniffling long enough to stare at him suspiciously. “You haven’t been completely thrilled with my company so far. Why would you want to go so far out of your way to take me home?”
Here Billy was on familiar ground. His former occupation had given him valuable experience in spur-of-the-moment fabrication. He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms behind his neck. “Well, I didn’t say the service would be completely free. I don’t know if you’re familiar with a cop’s salary, but—”
“I understand.” Julie looked at him, seeing something in his eyes she recognized only too well. Dollar signs. Finally, a situation she was adept at handling. “So I can have you for a price?”
Billy feigned shock. “I’m not that kind of man. You can hire my hired car for a price.”
Julie tossed the hair away from her face, color flaming in her cheeks. She was magnificent, Billy thought wistfully, when she was truly offended. He experienced a surprising regret for what he knew he had to do.
“You know,” she said tightly, “for a minute there I thought I was having a unique experience tonight. Silly me.”
Billy lifted a brow innocently. “And you’re not? Good heavens, woman, you learned to pump gas tonight. That could be a once-in-a-lifetime