In Love With My Bodyguard

CLAIRE

I spotted him in the crowded hotel bar immediately. He was sitting aloof at a dimly lit corner of the room. Freshly shaven, military-style haircut, rippling biceps stretched across his black shirt that matched his raven hair and dark smoldering eyes.

My body throbbed warmly, and I felt a flutter at the pit of my stomach. I should have left the champagne alone.

"Here’s your Martini. Thanks to that gentleman over there.”

The young waitress smiled and pushed the drink to me. Then, turning to the man who had my attention trapped for the last fifteen minutes, she winked.

I eyed the Martini nervously, then straightened my shoulders and darted a glance over to him. No way was anyone going to know I am Claire Johnson in the small town of Harbor Springs.

Was this a random guy trying to get me in his bed? It was summer, and Harbor Springs was filling up with tourists. Was he bored and wanted some action? I peered at him once more, and he winked—or so I thought.

“Boyfriend?”

The waitress had a dreamy stare as she turned in his direction.

“No. I don't know him.”

"A guy like that buys me a drink, I'm gonna say thanks all night.” The pigtailed girl whispered mischievously.

I forced a smile and turned to my mystery man once more. He was watching me intently, a sly grin tugging at one corner of his lips.

“Maybe he's just being nice,” I shrugged and picked up the drink.

“He’s been staring at you this whole time. He's smitten. My advice? Go over and say thanks.”

I could feel my heart thumping at the thought of being near a hot guy like that. I rubbed my damp palms nervously on my dress and stood in my six-inch white high heels. Maybe it was time to put my lessons to use.

I had joined an online class last summer that taught about making small talk and seducing the guy of your dreams. This was my sign.

I picked up my drink, thrust out my chest seductively, and moved smoothly through the crowd to his table.

He watched me the whole time, his eyes boring into my skin.

“Hi,” I said shyly and slid into the space next to him.

“Hi,” he said in a gruff baritone. Up close, he was breathtakingly handsome.

“Thanks.” I raised the glass, grateful he couldn't see my legs shaking.

"Don't blame me. I couldn't resist buying the most beautiful lady here a drink.”

“Care for a dance?” I whispered, afraid he would turn me down. There was a strange glint in his eyes that made him seem mysterious.

He stood up slowly and held out a palm to me. “It would be my honor, Princess.”

We moved to the dance floor, and as if on cue, the band struck up a romantic tune. He drew me into his arms, and we moved in rhythm to the song.

He didn't grope me as most men would. He held me close to his body, but I could feel the detachment of his hold. He was an excellent dancer, moving fluidly in sync with the tune.

“I have never seen you here," I whispered, careful not to break the magic of our dance.

“Really?” He twirled me around, an unreadable look on his face. “Do you spot every stranger who comes to this town?”

I giggled. Of course not. “I was thinking you are Prince Charming here to cart away your princess in a white Cavalry.” My lines sounded cheesy, but I needed to practice with the fascinating stranger.

“I can be anything you want me to be, Princess.” His corny lines got me excited, and I lost myself in the scent of his aftershave as we moved to the song.

Finally, it was over. Long after other couples dispersed into the crowd, we stood staring into each other’s eyes.

“This was the best dance of my life,” I exclaimed.

He didn't speak, only placed a protective arm around me and led me back to the darkened booth that matched his mood. I reached for my drink immediately we sat down and took a long gulp.

“You are hard to figure out.” He said, and I paid little attention to his odd compliment. My heart fluttered excitedly. “How about a kiss?” The words blurted out before I could stop them.

He cocked his head to the side and scoffed. “Are you drunk?”

Emboldened by the alcohol and the scent of his aftershave, I leaned in and pressed my moist lips hard against his. It lasted for a moment, and then I felt his strong arms push me off and broke the kiss abruptly.

"Claire Johnson, I think it's high time I introduced myself.”

I blinked twice in horror and gasped.

He called my name!

My instinct pushed through my tipsy head—why didn't I stop drinking after my first glass? I had come into the restaurant for an early dinner and couldn't resist walking into the adjoining bar for a drink.

I scrambled to my feet, but he grabbed my hand and tugged me into the seat. “Easy, Princess. Your dad is going to hate it when I tell him I let you escape.”

The fight left my body. “My dad put you up to this?”

“Can’t blame the old man. You must have been a handful for his busy schedule.”

“Who are you?” I said, my eyes darting to the door. I could make a dash for safety, but not if he had a gun.

A lazy smile tugged at his lips as he watched my face break out in sweat.

“You should have thought about the danger before leaving Chicago for this place.”

“Who the hell are you?” I seethed.

“Ethan Hayes, at your service, ma’am.” He spoke slowly, making a dramatic display with his strong, calloused palm.

“Listen, Ethan, I don’t need a babysitter. I can take care of myself. So, why don’t you go back and tell my father that?”

He picked up the glass on his table and took a long gulp of his beer. “Aren’t you a bit old for this desperate attempt at getting your father’s attention?”

I jerked like I’d been slapped. “What? How dare you make such an assumption about me? You don’t even know me.”

“Here you are, getting drunk and kissing any stranger who shows a little interest in you, while your father is worried sick about you.”

I colored instantly, wishing I could sink into the floor in shame. I threw the rest of the drink down and closed my eyes for a second, hoping this would all go away. He was watching me cautiously the moment my eyelids fluttered open.

“Mr. Hayes, you don’t fool me one bit. How do I know my father sent you and that you’re not some cold-blooded assassin?”

He withdrew a dog-eared photo from his pocket and extended it slowly to me. It was my favorite photo, taken on my 25th birthday. I was smiling into the camera, blowing kisses to my dad.

A feeling of nostalgia hit me, and I struggled not to cry. My father might be overprotective, but nobody loved me more than he did.

It had been one of those rainy days in winter. I had gone to see my father in his office. I moved into his spacious penthouse office and set the pile of letters I was holding onto his desk.

“I can’t do this anymore, Dad.” My shoulders quivered, and I broke into tears.

He gathered me into his arms. “Claire, you can’t let this bastard ruin your life. You have a life here in Chicago.”

I moved to the amazing view of the Willis Tower from his window. “This place doesn’t feel like home anymore. I can’t live my life looking over my shoulder and wondering what I’m going to find on my doorstep.”

“Claire, what’s going to happen to me?” My father’s pathetic attempt at emotional blackmail was funny. I moved to him and kissed his bald head.

“Maybe it’s time you get serious about going on dates and finding a replacement for Mom.”

He scoffed. “It’s been twenty-six years, Angel. There’s never going to be a replacement for your mom,” he turned to stare at my mother’s portrait on the wall, “or you.”

“Maybe you should get a younger lover?” I suggested.

He threw back his head and laughed, then wiped the tears that formed in his eyes. “I’m too old for love. I was looking forward to your wedding day.”

We sat side by side in silence, staring out the glass walls. “Where are you going?” he finally asked.

“I’m moving to Harbor Springs. Maybe it’s time for a new beginning.”

My father’s face turned pale, and he shook his head. “You can’t leave, Angel. Who’s going to take care of you?”

“I’m old enough to take care of myself, Dad. I’m going to be just fine.”

“What about your job? What are you going to do in a rustic town miles away from home?”

“Stop fretting, Dad. There are opportunities in small towns too. It might not be Chicago, but I’m going to be happy and safe. That’s all that matters.”

My father clearly didn’t trust me to keep to my word. He sent me a bodyguard six months later.

I bristled as my thoughts returned to the present where the arrogant stranger sat calmly sipping his drink. “Listen, Mr. Hayes or whatever you’re called, I will suggest you get on the next flight and go back home.”

He sat up straight and eyed me ruefully. “Here’s what you’re going to do, Princess. You’re going to grab your purse and follow me home this minute.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I threw down the rest of my drink, fuming. “Did my father put you up to this, or are you being an asshole right now?”

He didn’t flinch at my scalding words. “The first rule of this arrangement is simple: you have to listen to me and do everything I ask you to, or else we are going to be in trouble, Ms. Johnson.”

I scoffed at his audacity. “I’m going to do whatever I want, and no one is going to stop me—and that includes you, Mr. Babysitter.”

I saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. “I’m your bodyguard, damn it.”

I scoffed and pushed his hands off. “Bodyguard? Well, how about you sit down quietly and watch me? Isn’t that why my dad is paying you?”

I pushed my way through the crowd, shaking in rage. I didn’t need a bossy man shadowing my every move in this town.

I returned to a stool at the bar and ordered a dirty martini.

“Trouble in paradise?” the young waitress asked, inclining her head in Ethan’s direction.

“I should have never gone to say thanks,” I spat out, recalling the way he had pushed me off after my daring kiss.

“I take it Prince Charming wasn’t worth it?” I shot a glance towards Ethan and swore aloud. He was still watching me with hooded eyes, his face expressionless.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said softly and reached for my drink. I was still furious at the way he berated me like a child. Harbor Springs was meant to be a new beginning, away from my overprotective father.

“I’m going to dance,” I announced after my third glass. I could feel my head floating in the clouds, my rage dissipating.

The band struck up a lively beat as I walked to the dance floor. I moved to the beat, swaying my hips seductively in rhythm to the tempo. I knew he would be watching, and I intended to give him an Oscar-worthy show. The smell of booze and smoke filled the room, but I couldn’t care less.

A guy asked me for a dance, and I gave a drunken consent. I rubbed against his body, carefree, until I felt a warm, firm grasp on my arm.

It was my fucking bodyguard.