above my knees. I love the way the fabric flows around my legs but hugs me tight across my waist and chest. What I love best is the way Griff’s eyes bugged out when he saw me in it this morning.
“What do you think?” I extend my arm and give a little flap of my hand. The diamond bracelet flashes beneath the megawatt lights in the jewelry store.
“It looks nice, ma’am.” Griff, in private security mode, keeps his voice a level monotone. Behind his mirrored sunglasses, I know he’s checking out my tits. The wonder of a corseted top is the way it accentuates my curves.
And I’m really having fun teasing him. As my bodyguard, he can’t touch me. To say I’m having fun with him is an understatement, and if I’m really lucky, later on tonight, he’ll show me exactly what he thinks about my behavior. I’m hoping for a little over the knee action myself, not that I’m begging for it.
But come on.
I’m begging for it.
A mischievous grin fills my face as I close the distance between us.
“Oh, come on.” I walk over to him and flick my wrist in front of his face. “What do you think?”
“I think it looks expensive, but whatever Miss Stone wants.” The corner of his mouth twitches up, but he suppresses the unprofessional emotion. We’re not the only people in the store and he has an image to maintain.
“I like expensive things.” I hate expensive things, but this is part of the being flashy bit of my role. I do a little twirl, letting the fabric of my dress lift and show off my legs.
When Griff groans, I give a little snicker. Definitely having fun with this game of tease.
Despite the interest I show in the bracelet, I decline to purchase it. Griff holds the door for me as I exit and joins me on the curb. I pretend like I’m trying to decide where to go next, while he closes the gap between us.
“How much longer do we need to do this?” I fix a smile to my face, knowing there’s a very small possibility I’m being watched.
At some point, Guardian HQ needs to call this a bust. Maybe, my would-be kidnapper moved on to another girl. I may no longer interest him or not be worth the risk of a requisition.
“A few more days.”
“More? It’s already been a week.” I can’t help the petulance in my voice. I’m so not a shopper.
“More.” He crosses his arms behind his back and stares out at the busy traffic. “This isn’t a safe place to stand.”
“Why not? You seriously don’t think someone will grab me off the street in broad daylight?”
“I’ve learned to never assume.”
“I’m hungry. Do you want to grab something to eat?”
“A bodyguard wouldn’t eat with his client.”
“Ugh. So many rules!”
“How about that shop?” He points to a dress boutique across the street.
“I’m done for the day.”
“It’s barely noon. One more shop, then you can lounge around the hotel pool if you want.”
“Boring.”
“Nobody said this was a glamorous job.”
“Fine. One more shop.”
Tired of all the shopping, I enter the boutique dress shop with a sigh. Griff follows behind me. First thing, he makes a circuit of the small shop. Behind his mirrored sunglasses, there’s no doubt he’s checking out all the exits.
Gorgeous dresses from evening gowns to modern cocktail dresses draw my eye. Satin chic to sequined jeweled, the store drips wealth. I disparage ever needing to wear any of the dresses, which makes shopping for one problematic.
My heart isn’t in it.
Griff completes his circuit of the store. He glances down a hall leading off the display floor and pushes open the doors to each of the four changing rooms in a nook towards the back.
The older saleswoman watches him, but after his security check is complete, she ignores him in favor of me. I suppose having a bodyguard join a woman during a shopping excursion isn’t worthy of her attention. From a quick glance at the price tags on the few dresses I’ve looked at, I bet the majority of her clients come with a security escort. Griff gives me the okay with a jerk of his chin, then takes up his position by the front of the store.
Other than Griff and myself, there are two other women shopping and just the one sales associate. They don’t have fancy escorts like me, but they’re flashing haute couture like it’s going out of style. Which, when I think about it, is