Show Stopper: A Single Dad Bodyguard Romance Read online

  “Peppering me in for more movies in the future,” I said. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”

  “You keep me around because I’m damn good at what I do,” she said.

  “And you’ll never hear me deny it.”

  I saw her eyeing my bodyguard while I looked at the scripts, but when we went to finalize, she ripped her gaze from him. I could tell she was analyzing him, trying to figure out whether or not he knew what she knew. I wanted to know her opinion on him, but we didn’t have the time, and I signed the three contracts that she’d distribute to the casting directors before she stuck the scripts in a locked briefcase she handcuffed to my wrist.

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Directors are weird. Here’s the key. I’m gonna give it to Hulk over here, and he can uncuff you when you get home and in a safe space.”

  She dropped the key into his hand, and he placed it in his pocket. Then, we were off. The young assistant escorted us back down to the main floor and even helped us get through the pack of paparazzi to get to my car. I was definitely feeling safer with him by the second, but my stomach began to growl the moment my ass hit the seat.

  “You up for a little lunch, Mr. Jeffries?” I asked.

  “Where would you like to go?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Pick something.”

  “I don’t know what you want, so it’s hard to pick something you might like,” he said.

  “Well, the lunch is for both of us, so pick and I’ll find something on the menu to eat,” she said. “I’m not feeling very healthy today so that widens my food choices.”

  “I didn’t realize we’d go on a date so quickly, Miss Meyers,” he said. “I’m a bit shocked, honestly. I’m not usually the kind of guy that moves this quickly.”

  “Well, you’ve already got me handcuffed with the key in your pocket,” I said. “You might as well take me to get food.”

  It was nice to see his sense of humor coming through because it meant my message hit home earlier. Business and professional had their place and times, but not in my home and not when he was around just me. I didn’t want him to be uptight all the damn time because it would wind my nerves up, but I got the sneaking suspicion he realized that with my leg jiggling earlier.

  “What about that place downtown that serves those awesome salads?” he asked. “They have this weird corndog salad that’s oddly good.”

  “A corndog salad?” I asked. “Seriously?”

  “Yeah. They’ve got a filet mignon salad and a seafood salad and—”

  “Seafood salad?” I asked. “I’m in.”

  I got the driver on track, and we headed for the heart of downtown Los Angeles. I had nothing else to do on my schedule today, so I told the driver to take his time. Lunch was on me for everyone, and my mouth was starting to salivate at the idea of a crab-and-shrimp packed salad for my meal. There was nothing like a good seafood salad, and if they had shrimp cocktail on the menu, I’d be snagging one of those as well.

  And maybe a piece of chocolate cake if they had it, too.

  “Question,” Mr. Jeffries asked. “If I need to be late one day, like Wednesday, what is your personal protocol for that scenario?”

  “Depends on the reason and how much time you’re giving me, but I get you have a life outside of me, as sad as that is.” I threw him a wink, and he chuckled a bit. The sound hit my ears like the smoothness of white chocolate on my tongue.

  “My daughter is starting kindergarten, and I’d like to see her off on the bus before I come in,” he said.

  “I’m not a tyrant,” I said. “Of course, you can come in late Wednesday. How old’s your daughter?”

  “Just turned five,” he said.

  “She excited to start school?”

  “Much more excited than I am.”

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  “She’s my little girl. It’s been just me and her since she was born. Relinquishing her to a kindergarten teacher without me there to watch over her is gonna be tough.”

  “I can only imagine,” I said. “Why’s it been just the two of you?”

  It was then I watched a stormy gaze barrel over his face. Gone was the playfulness of the beginning of our car ride, and in its place was a man being dragged back into memories he didn’t want to remember. I knew exactly what that felt like and was glad when I felt the car pull to a stop. I leaned over his body and opened his door for him to change the subject.

  “Care for some food?” I asked.

  “You gonna go in with that thing strapped to your arm?” he asked.

  “Probably not a good idea. Wanna uncuff me?”

  He dug the key out of his pocket and freed me from my metal confines before we stuffed the briefcase underneath the seat. He pocketed the key before he got out of the car, and then he dipped his hand down to help me out, just like he’d done before. The two of us went into the restaurant, and I was surprised there were no paparazzi in sight. I thought the driver had taken a longer route to get to the heart of downtown, and I made a mental note to give him a nice bonus this quarter. He was probably dodging the paparazzi that were behind us, and he deserved more money for that sort of effort.

  We sat down and ordered our food, and it came out surprisingly quickly. People kept snapping pictures of us while we ate, and some people came up and asked for photographs. Mr. Jeffries came up with the best suggestion I’d heard in a while.

  “Why don’t we take the rest of this to-go?” he asked. “Plus, eating food on a couch in pajamas is much better than eating food in impressive clothes while in a small little chair.”

  “God, that sounds perfect,” I said. He flagged down the waitress, who’d already come over with to-go trays, and we packed our food in a brown paper bag before she gave us the check. I went to pick up the little black billfold that housed the amount that was due, but before I could get my card out of my purse, it was ripped from my fingertips.

  “My treat,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I told you I was getting lunch, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”

  “You can get it next time,” he said. “My suggestion, my treat.”

  “You really weren’t kidding about this date thing,” I said, winking at him.

  “Yep. Gotcha cuffed, uncuffed, and stuffed. Sounds like the perfect date to me.”

  I threw my head back in laughter.

  We gathered our food and hurried back to the car. My driver pulled out into traffic and got on the highway. I still felt bad that Jeffries paid for lunch, especially when I had offered to cover it, and something in my gut told me letting him pay was crossing a boundary. It was no secret he was a good-looking man, with his massive build, his strong arms, and his piercing blue eyes. But he was here to do a job, and I was here to keep a secret under wraps for as long as I could.

  “You really didn’t have to pay, you know,” I said as the car came to a stop in front of my home.

  “It’s really not a problem. Like I said, you can grab the next one.”

  I plucked the briefcase out from underneath the seat while he carried the rest of the food inside. I leaned in and told my driver to go home and expect a nice bonus for evading the paparazzi. He kissed me lightly on my cheek before he drove off. I’d had him driving me around ever since my career first took off. He was the first person I hired onto my staff full-time, and he was the most precious old man I could’ve ever come across.

  He reminded me of my grandfather, and that was probably one of the reasons I kept him around. He was warm and welcoming and never stuck his nose where it didn’t need to be, unless he felt it was absolutely imperative for my safety.

  He was the one that actually convinced me to hire a bodyguard in the first place.

  I watched Mr. Jeffries walk into the house, and it was the first time I’d taken a decent look at him. I followed him while he hung up his coat and took the food from his hand, watching him as he removed his tie and got comfortable in my home.


  He was fucking hot. That much was for sure. I’d lucked out when the security company had sent me this sexy piece of eye candy they had. His shoulders rippled with every movement he made, and the muscles in his chest and back pulled his dress shirt taut.

  If he wasn’t careful, a button would pop off and show me a bit of chest hair I’m sure he kept covered up underneath those layers of clothes.

  “I’ll take this from you and get it set out on the table for us,” he said.

  “I thought we were eating on the couch in our pajamas?” I asked.

  “That sounds like another type of date to me,” he said, grinning.

  I giggled at his joke and waited until he rounded the corner into the kitchen before I took out my purse. I pulled a couple of twenties from my wallet and shoved them into his coat pocket before I hung up my purse and shoved my wallet back into it. For some reason, it really felt like I was crossing a line with him buying lunch.

  Especially with how my nipples stood at attention for him when he was taking off his coat.

  Chapter 4

  Thomas

  “Are you ready for school today?” I asked Lacey.

  “Yeah! I got my markers, and my crayons, and my notebooks, and my lunch.”

  “Good girl,” I said. “Now, whenever someone talks to you, what do you say?”

  “I say ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’”

  “Good. Now, what’s my phone number?”

  She repeated the number.

  “And what’s our address?” I asked.

  She rattled off her manners and our emergency information. I wanted her to be prepared to have a blast, while knowing that if something ever happened, she knew how to call me and where to go if she ever needed to get home. I decided to drive her to her first day instead of putting her on the bus, and my heart ached when she got out of her seat and went dashing for the door. She was so excited to go to school all day and be with her friends, but I was petrified she would be scared and wouldn’t enjoy it.

  “You must be Mr. Jeffries,” a smiling woman said. “I’m Mrs. Tottle, Lacey’s kindergarten teacher.”

  Her gray and white hair was piled up onto her head while glasses slid down her nose. She reminded me of that stereotypical grandmother you saw in all those movies, and I got a kick at how jovial she was for the school year to begin. The kids ran around her legs and got into all the things in her classroom, and she talked me through how their first day was going to go.

  “Today’s just gonna be a nice introduction day. We’ll sit in a circle and introduce ourselves, and then we will all name an activity we like to do. Then, all of the kids will do that activity for a little while to help get to know their peers in their classroom.”

  “That sounds fantastic, Mrs. Tottle. Thank you so much.”

  “Oh, it’s not a problem,” she said. “And rest assured, if Lacey struggles in any way, I will be sure to give you a call. We have some things we try first, like taking them to another playroom for some alone time and going to the library to read to get them to settle down, but if they don’t, the parents get a call, and they can instruct us on where to go from there.”

  “That makes me feel a lot better,” I said. “Thank you, Mrs. Tottle.”

  My eyes drifted over to Lacey, who had already bonded with a little boy with glasses and a taller girl who walked with braces on her legs. They were playing with playdough, and she was helping the little boy make what looked like to be a pizza. They were giggling and smiling and having the best time. I decided it would be best to slip out while she was preoccupied, so I shook Mrs. Tottle’s hand one last time before I headed to my car.

  I sat in the parking lot of the school while a tear ran down my face. My little girl was growing up and experiencing things she’d carry for the rest of her life. It meant I was actually doing something right. Her feeling comfortable enough to step away from me and make friends like that meant I’d instilled in her a confidence not all women had, and I felt my chest puff out in pride at that realization.

  I never shed a fucking tear over that bitch who gave birth to her, but I’d shed many tears over the course of my little girl growing up. She was my baby, and I was slowly watching her turn into, well, now my little girl.

  I cranked my car and headed on to Bridget’s, and when I got there, she whipped the door open before I could get to the doorbell.

  “Looking out for me, I see?” I asked.

  “How did she do? Did she cry? Did you cry? Did she make friends? Is she having fun?”

  It was taken aback by how excited she was to know about Lacey’s first drop off at school. It was a bit unnerving, but seeing a young woman actually take interest in my daughter felt somewhat relieving. It was the attention her mother should have given her, and it showed me that people were capable of caring for my daughter, even though she wasn’t theirs.

  “She did well,” I said. “I dropped her off and met her teacher, and by the time I left, she had already made a couple of friends. I think she’ll do well.”

  “Oh, that’s so good. Good, good, good.” I saw her arm jiggling at her side, and I knew something had made her nervous. I felt my hand naturally gravitate toward my gun while I looked around the home, but a light pressure on my arm ripped me from my protective trance.

  “No one’s here,” she said. “I’m nervous because we have a photoshoot we gotta leave for soon. I wasn’t sure if you would be coming or not today.”

  “Nope,” I said. “I’m here. When’s the shoot?”

  “Noon.”

  “Well, it’s only a little past nine. We’ve got plenty of time.”

  “It takes two hours to do hair and makeup,” she said, giggling.

  “Holy shit, are you serious?”

  “As a heart attack. Now, come on. The car’s almost here.”

  We got into the car and headed for the photoshoot, and I couldn’t get that timeframe out of my mind. Two hours to put on a bit of makeup and do up some hair? Was she serious? I’d be standing in a room with hairspray and lipstick for two solid hours, and I wasn’t really looking forward to that at all.

  When we got there, we were escorted to a dressing room. Bridget sat down in a chair that sat in front of a massive mirror, and someone promptly brought another chair for me to sit on. I was thankful I wouldn’t have to stand for two hours while I watched them paint her down with all sorts of colors, but when she started talking, I started to relax back a bit.

  “Got a favorite color, Mr. Jeffries?” she asked.

  “Orange. Like a deep, burnt orange.”

  “So, you’re a fall kinda guy?”

  “Fall and spring,” I said. “My daughter loves the different colors that bloom and fade.”

  “I’m a summer gal,” she said. “Give me the beaches and bikinis and sun-kissed men any day.”

  “The beach and the mountains both have their appeal.”

  “Hot tub or bathtub?” she asked.

  “What is this, twenty questions?”

  “Depends. Do you wanna play?” She shot me a sultry look while someone started curling her hair around a massive iron, and the thought of getting to know her better honestly sounded nice. So, I decided to indulge her little fantasy of twenty questions with her bodyguard.

  “Bathtub,” I said. “Being naked with a woman is always better than being clothed.”

  “Oh, sounds scandalous,” she said with a smirk.

  “Morning or night?” I asked.

  “Night. I love how it blankets the world and makes it seem more mysterious.”

  “So, you’re a mystery kinda gal?” I asked. “Does this mean our next date should be at a mystery theater?”

  “You know, I’ve never been to one of those,” she said.

  “Hold still.” The makeup artist painted her lips quickly with this deep shade of purple, and I sat back and waited for her to continue. I wanted to know more about her as we got to talking, and part of me was pissed that some makeup gal was interrupting the flow in
conversation.

  “You should go. They’re nice. I went once before I had my daughter. Figured that shit out, too.”

  “Oh, strong and smart,” she said. “Two for two.”

  “Photoshoots or movies?” I asked.

  “Photoshoots, definitely. Less time, less costume changes, and less barking of orders.”

  “Got that right,” the makeup artist said.

  “I have a question that isn’t an ‘either-or’ one,” she said.

  “Shoot. I’m an open book.”

  “Did Lacey’s mom die in childbirth?”

  I felt my blood run cold with the words that descended upon my ears. She’d obviously been thinking about that moment in the car when she’d asked me about Lacey’s mother and I didn’t answer. I couldn’t blame her for being curious, but it was highly hypocritical that she would ask me about such a personal moment without revealing the personal reason why I was here to take care of her.

  “That probably would’ve been better,” I said.

  “Wow, what’d she do?” she asked.

  “Tried to abort her, then tried to give her up for adoption against my wishes. I legally intervened and collected me daughter, and then, she took off.”

  “What the fuck?” she asked. “Who the hell would do something like that?”