next to him, crossing one leg over the other. He’s drinking water again, his Adam’s apple going up and down hypnotically. Get a hold of yourself! “So, I’m not sure if Trina clued you in, but this is my first time having a bodyguard. Please bear with me as I get used to having a shadow. I know for sure I want you on set when we bring in the live studio audience on Fridays. We’ve got nine more weeks of taping, and then I’m not sure where I’ll be after that. A lot depends on if the show gets picked up for another season as far as what future roles I can take. But, if we both feel it’s working, I wonder if you’d be open to travel?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Hafta think about that one.”
I hold up a palm. “Sorry. I’m rushing ahead. We’ll play it by ear. You stick close on taping day, and accompany me to and from work. I know I’ll sleep better at night knowing you’re next door.” I bought the next-door apartment, too, with the intention of knocking down the separating wall to expand my own, so it worked out well to have the nearby space. He’s supposed to move in tomorrow.
One corner of his mouth lifts, and my pulse thrums through me. “Sounds like we’ll be spending a lot of time together. It’s good to get to know each other. Gotta say, you don’t sound as tough as you do on TV.” Living Gold hasn’t aired yet so he’s referring to my CEO character.
I try to keep the irritation from my voice. “That’s because Amanda Boxer was a character I played, not me.” I don’t know why people don’t get that.
He leans close. “It makes me realize what a great actor you are.”
“Oh.” I run my finger along the seam of the soft sofa cushion, staring at it. I’m not good with compliments, having received so few growing up. General Joan did not coddle. (My grandmother who raised me.)
He leans back in his seat and continues, “You seem sweet in real life.”
“Well, sweet doesn’t help in a fight.”
He smiles, his aquamarine eyes twinkling. My stomach does another crazy flip. “Probably not, but I like it.”
My cheeks heat, my heart kicking hard, my brain completely checking out on me. I’m all discombobulated with the compliments and the sexiness. Professional. Keep it professional.
“You’re exactly as I hoped,” I say. Except gorgeous. I should’ve been more careful with my list of bodyguard requirements and requested a nongorgeous type.
He cocks his head. “How am I what you hoped?”
I gesture with both hands around his massive shoulders and biceps. “Jacked.”
“Funny. Jack is my brother.”
I laugh a little. “I meant—”
“I know what you meant. I like to keep fit in my line of work. Prevents injuries.”
I nod. “Makes perfect sense. I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable, talking about your muscles.” My cheeks flame. God, Harper, could you be a worse boss ogling your new employee?
He gives me a panty-melting smile, his teeth flashing white against a sexy five o’clock shadow. “I’m perfectly comfortable.”
I’m dying here.
This is not at all embarrassing.
“Good,” I say softly.
Our gazes lock. I’m enthralled, aching to get closer. The attraction is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. If we had an on-screen chemistry test, the director would go nuts for us as a couple. You need him. Don’t screw this up. I can’t seem to look away, caught in something more powerful than myself. Oh, God, it’s mutual. The attraction is mutual. Ah, hell.
I tear my gaze away, scrambling to figure out how to navigate a professional relationship when I’m lusty as a teenager coming face-to-face with her crush. And my crush is into it.
“What do you like to do when you’re not working?” he asks.
I attempt to sound casual and normal. “I love music, so live performances are my favorite.”
He shifts toward me. “Yeah? Me too. I hit up as many music festivals as I can.”
I smile. “Cool.” I’ve heard music festivals are fun, but it’s impossible for me to attend like a normal person. I only went once when a headliner, who was a friend of mine, invited me. I watched from backstage with her security detail.
A sharp knock on my trailer door startles me. I leap up. “They probably want me on set. We should go.”
I head for the door and open it, expecting one of the production assistants. Instead it’s a scary-looking man with a shaved head and a neck tattoo, wearing a white button-down shirt open to mid-chest, revealing another tattoo over one of his pecs. Good thing I’ve got Joe here. How did this scary guy get past security?
His brown eyes are intent on mine as he offers his hand to shake. “Harper Ellis, I’m Joe Sullivan.”
My bodyguard.
My stomach drops, my knees weak. “What?” I whisper over the roaring in my ears.
“Your new bodyguard,” he says. “I got a little lost on the way to your trailer. Hey, you okay? You look kinda pale.”
The complete stranger I let into my trailer steps outside. “Real nice to meet ya, Harper. Save some of that chocolate for Joe.” He winks, turns, and walks away.
I slip back into my trailer and make my way to the sofa, flopping down in a cold sweat. My real bodyguard waits outside.
Who the hell did I let into my trailer?
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