His Bodyguard
“Brenna opened her eyes, and there, sitting on the bed next to her was Adonis, unshaven, rumpled by sleep, and so handsome it nearly made her drool.
No wait. She was drooling. Ohhh! She snapped her mouth closed and sat up.
The events of the night before rushed back to her. “What time is it?”
“’Bout seven. I made some breakfast.”
She saw now that he had a plate of pancakes in his hand.
“Listen, Fox—”
“Don’t want to hear it,” he said. “I can’t have my bodyguard passing out on me. Who’d protect me? Here. Eat this.” He handed her the plate, then lifted the syrup from beside her spare contact case.
“How long have you been in here?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Ten minutes maybe.”
She winced at the thought. “Was I drooling?”
He laughed. The sound did bad things to her insides. “Geez, O’Shay, you’re so vain. You’re my bodyguard, remember? A strictly professional relationship. Hurry up. Eat. I want to take you dancing. I mean—” he grinned “—running.”
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