she suddenly became the bonus daughter of a famous musician. I wondered how much Sean would be willing to change his schedule. Would he be willing to step out of the limelight? Stop touring? Would I be able to handle it if he didn’t?
Would I? Would he? Would we?
♪♫♪
My back ached as I pushed the doors open to go out to the parking lot. Sitting at a piano for hours without any back support was almost getting to be too much. I wanted to take a bath. I wanted a massage.
I had almost reached my car with its blessed lumbar support when a guy stepped in front of me. I stopped abruptly, my eyes narrowing as the thirty-something-year-old fake-smiled at me.
“Hi. Sorry to bother you. I’ve just seen you teaching here and didn’t know your name.” He looked at me with hungry anticipation.
Warning bells sounded in my head and I instinctively put a protective hand over my belly. “Are you a student here?” I managed to ask. That was a normal question, right? It didn’t make me sound like I was deciding between fight or flight.
“No, nothing like that.”
“Well then, why have you seen me teaching here?”
“Are you Libby Caster?” He took an eager step closer.
More warning bells. I noticed the black case hanging on his shoulder. No doubt it was a camera. I took a step back. “Please leave me alone,” I said as I turned to hurry back toward the building entrance.
He quickly came around me, blocking my path again. This time he wielded a cell phone, no doubt recording video. “How long have you been dating Sean Amity? Is this his baby?”
I curled in on myself and tried to get around him again, my heart racing and my body tense. I hated this. Oh, I hated this so much. “Please leave—”
“Hey!”
I turned at the sound of the voice and saw another guy jogging toward us. At first I thought the reporter had brought a friend, but this new guy had fire in his eyes, and his glare was all for the reporter harassing me.
“The lady asked you to leave her alone,” he said in a voice of steel as he put his body between me and the reporter.
“Hey, man.” The reporter raised his hands in surrender but kept his phone’s camera pointed at me. “I was only asking a couple questions.”
“You were harassing a pregnant woman, and I suggest you get lost.” He turned to me, gesturing toward the building. “Would you like to go back inside, ma’am?”
I immediately headed in that direction, the guy following close behind me, acting as a shield as I made a wide arc around the reporter. I couldn’t help glancing back.
The reporter was eyeing me, a smirk on his face as he continued to hold up his phone. “Nice to meet you, Libby.” He had the gall to wink.
I turned away from him and hurried even faster to the entrance. Once inside, I found the closest chair and collapsed into it, my body shaking with adrenaline. My rescuer stood at the door, looking out at the parking lot. After my breathing had moved from panicked to just stressed, I spoke up. “Thank you.”
He turned to look at me.
“I really appreciate what you just did,” I said as the relief started to sink in.
“No problem, ma’am.”
I wondered if his “ma’aming” me was because he had a military background. Then I noticed the phone he held to his ear and my brow furrowed. Was he calling the police? Maybe that was a good idea.
Then whoever he’d been calling picked up and he moved the phone closer to his mouth. “Hi, Sean. We’ve had an incident here at the conservatory.” Pause. “She’s fine. But an overzealous paparazzo got in her face.”
I blinked as I realized that he was reporting back to Sean. Like he worked for him. Like he’d been assigned to look out for me. My eyes closed as I puffed out a breath through my nose.
Apparently he wasn’t just a Good Samaritan. He was my bodyguard.
This left me very conflicted. I was incredibly relieved that he had been there in that moment, but I was super annoyed that he’d been covertly following me around for who knew how long.
“Yeah,” he continued, talking to Sean. “She’s right here.” He walked over to me and held out the phone.
I took it and put it to my ear. “Sean,” I greeted.
“Libby, are you all right?” His voice dripped with concern.