She lifted her head. “Yes?”
“Would you like a performance evaluation?”
She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. “A what?” she asked.
“A performance evaluation. You want to know how you did, don’t you?”
He had rendered her speechless. She leaned up on an elbow, narrowed her eyes, and frowned at him. Was he kidding? Then she saw the flicker of laughter in his eyes. Okay, two can play at this game, she thought.
“Yes, please. I would love an evaluation. How did I do? And is there room for improvement?”
He stretched out beside her, folded a pillow behind his head, and said, “I’ve got to give you high marks for enthusiasm.”
“Thank you.”
“And the effort was there.”
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “Your technique was definitely above par.”
He was having a good time. His grin was slow and totally unrepentant.
“Meaning I can improve?” she asked.
“I’ll help you with that.”
“That’d be nice,” she said, smiling. “Now it’s my turn to judge your performance.”
He clasped his hands together as if to brace himself and said, “Okay, I’m ready.”
She rolled on top of him. “Not bad for a warm-up.”
TWENTY-FIVE
HE WORE HER OUT. LYRA FELL INTO A DEEP SLEEP AROUND two in the morning but woke up a little after five with Sam kissing the side of her neck.
He had to be superhuman. She had lost count of the number of times he had reached for her. Three? Four? She supposed she should be honest with herself. She had reached for him, too. Still … didn’t he need any sleep?
“Sam?” she purred.
“Hmmm?”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to wake you for good-bye sex.”
“Didn’t we already have good-bye sex?”
She turned in his arms so she could look at him and tell him she thought he might be insatiable, but his warm body, his sleepy eyes, and his sexy mouth changed her mind. She kissed him instead. Maybe she was insatiable, too.
Their lovemaking wasn’t leisurely, but wild and consuming. He was tender with her, yet she could sense the hunger in him. Lyra felt as though she was coming undone. The sensations were terrifying but at the same time wonderful. She clung to him and knew she was safe.
Sam’s climax was shattering and exhilarating. His voice was deep and raspy as he called her name and held her hips tight against him. When he found the strength, he lifted up and kissed her brow. She ran her fingertips along his unshaven face.
He touched her soft cheek. “Did I scratch you?”
Her eyes were closing, and she didn’t answer his question. “Night,” she said.
She was sound asleep less than a minute later.
SAM RELUCTANTLY GOT OUT of bed and went into the bathroom to shower and get dressed. He wasn’t certain how early his replacement would be at the door, and he wanted to be ready.
He shaved and packed his bag, pulled on his khaki slacks, and strapped his gun and holster onto his side. Still shoeless and bare-chested, he crossed the hall for the third time to check on Lyra, even though he knew his actions were ridiculous. She was perfectly fine. Everything about her was fine … and amazing.
She was going to be okay. Alec had assured him that the new bodyguard—Brick Winter—would keep her safe. Brick Winter. What kind of name was Brick? Sam should have checked him out personally. Alec had vouched for him, but Sam bet if he’d looked he would have found something wrong. And how could anyone take a guy named Brick seriously? Maybe in Hollywood, but not in the real world.
Sam went back into Lyra’s room to get his shoes and the clothes he’d left on the floor. He had just stuffed everything in his bag when he heard a knock at the door. Still barefoot, he unsnapped the strap over his gun and went downstairs. He looked through the peephole, saw the identification, and opened the door.
He swore to God a frickin’ movie star stood on the welcome mat. As a rule Sam didn’t notice what men looked like, but this Brick was built like his name. In a fight, Sam would have to work hard to defeat him. He’d do it, though. Damn right.
Sam sized up his replacement in a split second. He didn’t know where he’d ever seen anyone quite so handsome. A movie poster perhaps? These weren’t the usual features of a guy who worked as a bodyguard. His profile was too chiseled, too flawless. Where were the scars, the leathery skin, the bags under the eyes from the late nights on watch? He had to be an actor or a model. Maybe he was just doing this part-time until he got a part in the next big action adventure flick.
Brick extended his hand and flashed a smile with his perfect white teeth, and that was all the convincing Sam needed. There was no way Lyra could be safe with anyone like him.
Sam shook Brick’s hand, then gave him a firm pat on the shoulder as he turned him around and told him there had been a mistake; Lyra didn’t need him after all. Thanking him for his trouble, Sam sent the bewildered Brick on his way.
Yawning, Sam went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of orange juice and gulped it down. Sex with Lyra had dehydrated him. He smiled, thinking about that. He could stay one more day, maybe even catch the men who were after her. Then he wouldn’t have to worry about her when he went back to D.C.
Yeah, that was a plan.
He took a cold bottle of water upstairs and set it on the night-stand for Lyra, then stripped out of his slacks and slipped into bed beside her. Her back was to him, so he pulled her up against him, draped one arm over her waist, and fell asleep for another couple of hours.
IT WAS CLOSE TO ten o’clock when Lyra finally awoke. She reached for Sam’s side of the bed, but it was empty, yet she could feel the warmth where he had lain. She closed her eyes and listened. There was no noise coming from the rest of the house. Sam was gone. No surprise there. He had told her he would be gone in the morning. That’s what all the wonderful good-bye sex was about.
She fought off melancholy, and then sank into a deep sadness, followed by painful regret, and finally indignant anger. How dare he leave? Okay, maybe he had to, but he could have told her … what? He’d come back? That would have been a lie, and Sam had been up front from the very beginning.
A long shower didn’t make her feel any better. By the time she’d blown her hair dry, she’d made up her mind to move forward. If he could leave her that easily, then she hadn’t meant anything more to him than a night of sex.
“Glad to be rid of him,” she muttered. As she applied lip gloss, she looked in the mirror and added, “Damn glad.”
Too bad she couldn’t believe her own lie.
Time to go downstairs and meet the new bodyguard. She shoved her laptop in her backpack, unplugged her cell phone from the charger, and went downstairs. Dropping her backpack by the sofa, she crossed to the kitchen.
“Hello,” she called.
She came around the corner and stopped cold. Sam was leaning against the counter drinking from the milk carton. Her mouth dropped open. “You’re here.”
The way he looked at her made all the memories of what happened last night rush into her thoughts. Her heart was racing. She wanted to throw her arms around him and tell him how happy she was to see him, but she couldn’t let him see her vulnerability.
She reached for the carton in his hand and casually took a swig of the milk. “You were supposed to be gone this morning,” she said.
“Replacement didn’t work out,” he told her with a shrug. He took the carton away from her and set it on the counter, then pulled her into his arms and kissed her.
A phone rang.
Sam pulled back and said, “Mine or yours?”
“Mine,” Lyra said with a sigh.
She went into the living room, fished her phone out of her bag, and looked at the caller ID. “Oh, no,” she groaned.
“What’s wrong?” Sam called from the kitchen.
“It’s Father Henry,” she answered. “My grandmother must be at it again.”
Sam watched Lyra’s expression turn from one of irritation to one of fear as she listened to what the priest was telling her. When the conversation was over, she dropped her phone in her bag and said, “I need to go to San Diego.”
“When?”
“Now.”
“Okay. Tell me why. What’s happened?”
Lyra threaded her fingers through her hair. “I need to pack and get going.”
When she tried to get past him, he stopped her. “Tell me,” he repeated calmly.
“I thought Father was calling about the holy water.”
“The what?”
“The holy water from the font in the church. Gigi—my grandmother—steals a little every now and then.”
“I see,” he said, though he honestly didn’t have a clue.
“This time it wasn’t about the holy water, though she did take a little for her petunias.”
What was Lyra talking about? Sam figured he’d get a fuller explanation when they were in the car. She was too upset to be coherent. All he needed now were the basic facts.
“What was the priest’s main concern if it wasn’t the water?”
“He was having lunch with Gigi. He loves her cooking, so she’d invited him over for lunch.”
“I see.”
“He told me he was sitting on the porch swing enjoying his iced tea when a car drove by very slowly. He noticed the man in the passenger seat was looking intently at Gigi’s house. A couple of minutes later, it drove by again. Father tried to get the license plate number, but there was mud smeared all over it. He thought they might have done that on purpose. Alarmed, he went inside and stood by the window to watch. And sure enough, the car came by again. This time one of the guys in the car got out and looked in Gigi’s mailbox. Father rushed outside and shouted at him to leave the mailbox alone; it was private property. The man yelled back that he was looking for the Prescott house. He said the Prescott woman was going to be sorry she messed with them. They drove away when Father shouted that he was calling the police.”
“Did he call them?” Sam asked.
“No, he called me. He promised to always call me first.”
Sam wanted to find out why she had gotten the priest to make such a promise, but he would wait until she was calmer to ask. Lyra’s hands were shaking now.
“You do know you’re not going anywhere without me.”
“I assumed Alec was sending another bodyguard.”
“Tomorrow. I’m staying until tomorrow. Then you’ll get a new one.”
“Even if I’m at my grandmother’s house?”
“Yes, even then.”
“Are you upset that you had to stay?”
“I don’t get upset,” he scoffed. “It’s just a minor change in schedule, that’s all.”
Lyra ran upstairs. Since she had a closet full of clothes at home with Gigi, she didn’t have to pack much.
Sam had his bag and was waiting for her in the living room when she came back down. She hurried into the kitchen and tossed a few candy bars into the zippered compartment on the side of her over night case. Finally pausing for breath, she said, “Okay. Let’s go.”
Traffic was slow, and the drive to San Diego seemed to take forever. Lyra’s impatience to see her grandmother grew with every mile. When they were about an hour out of Los Angeles, her cell rang. The call came from her grandmother’s phone, so Lyra hurriedly answered.
“Lyra, dear, it’s Gigi,” her grandmother said.
“Are you okay?” Lyra asked.
“I’m fine,” she assured her. “Father Henry had to get back to the church, but Harlan Fishwater is here doing some work. Father Henry made him promise to stay until you arrived. I really don’t think that’s necessary. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”
“Gigi, I’m on my way and will be there soon. Promise me you won’t send Harlan away until I get there.”
“All right, I promise. But don’t hurry. There’s nothing to worry about. I told you, I’m fine.”
Gigi hung up the phone, and Lyra slumped back against the car seat. While relieved that her grandmother was so calm, she couldn’t help but worry about her.
She looked at Sam. “Gigi said not to hurry. She can take care of herself.”
“Sounds like a strong woman,” Sam said.
“Yes, she is,” Lyra agreed.
She thought for a minute, then said, “Sam, the man shouting at Father Henry said that the Prescott woman was going to be sorry she messed with them. He had to mean me, right? The two men who broke into my apartment were looking for something. They think I took whatever it was to Gigi’s.”
“It adds up,” he admitted.
“Obviously they’re looking for something of value,” she continued. “At least to them.”
“You said you didn’t have anything of value for them to take,” he reminded her.
Lyra sat up straight, as though a light had suddenly been turned on in her head. “But I did,” she said. “The books.”
“The books from the yard sale?”
“Yes, they were very valuable. I don’t know how much they were worth, but a signed first edition of a classic sells for thousands of dollars. It makes sense now. They want the books back.”
“Why would they think your grandmother has them?” he asked.
“After the yard sale, I drove to San Diego.” She paused as the realization hit her. “Oh my God. They followed me.”
TWENTY-SIX
“TELL ME ABOUT YOUR FAMILY,” SAM SAID AS HE WEAVED THEIR car through traffic. “Wasn’t all that in my file? And by the way, how long has there been a file on me?”
“Since the break-in at your apartment.”
“Oh.”
He laughed. “You sound disappointed.”
“You should get in the other lane.”
They were getting close to the turnoff for Gigi’s house, and Lyra was finally beginning to relax. It wouldn’t be long before she could see for herself that her grandmother was okay.
“We’ve already talked about my family. Two brothers, a grandmother who raised us … what more do you want to know?”
“When did your parents officially become ‘those people’?”
“When they tried to have my grandmother declared incompetent. You see, the two of them had gone through an extremely generous trust fund my grandfather left for his only son, and now they’re stuck having to live on a budget. That cramps their style.”
“What about the ranch?”
“My grandfather gave it to my brothers and me before he died.”
“Then what kind of work does your father do?” he asked.
“He doesn’t. He golfs and has meetings. They’re very social people.”
“They’re your parents, and you love them no matter what.” Sam phrased this matter-of-factly, yet a question was implied.
“Not when they’re hurting my grandmother … for money of all things.”
“How do your brothers feel about all of this?”
Lyra smiled. “Gigi raised them, too. There’s no way they’ll let her be put somewhere. It’s nice to have them on my side. Turn right at the light,” she instructed. “Since you’re an only child, I’ll bet you’re close to your parents.”
“I am.”
“Were you ever lonely as a child?”
“At times. What about you? The only girl …”
“I was close to my brothers. I drove them crazy following them around when I was young.” She looked out the window, for a moment missing the Texas ranch.
“My wife, Beth, had sisters and brothers.”
This was the first time Sam had mentioned his wife’s name, and Lyra looked for a hint of sadness in his eyes, but as he drove he was smiling at the memory of her family.
“Did they like you?” Lyra asked.
“Her sisters did. It took longer with the brothers. We were y
oung, maybe too young to get married, but we had three years together.”
She folded her hands in her lap. “It doesn’t matter how old or young you were. She was your love.”
He laughed. “You’re a romantic, Lyra.”
He was right, but she didn’t think that was a bad thing. What was wrong with wanting to find the perfect love?
“About your brothers …” Sam said.
“Yes?”
“They’ll be calling you real soon.”
“Why?”
“Two FBI agents should be knocking on their door anytime now. They’re going to confiscate the boxes you shipped.”
“Please tell me the agents aren’t going to tell Owen and Cooper about the break-in.”
“Probably not.”
“Probably?” She raised her voice. “You don’t know my brothers. They’d go berserk if they found out.”
“Perhaps they have reason to worry.”
“They might ask Gigi to come stay at the ranch for a while. That’d be good,” she conjectured. “Speaking of Gigi … there are a few things you should know.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re a Democrat. I don’t care if you really are or not. When you’re with my grandmother, you’re a dyed-in-the-wool Democrat.”
“And why is that?” Taking his eyes from the road, he glanced at her.
“It’s just easier.”
“What else?”
“Don’t talk about sex.”
He burst into laughter that made tears come to his eyes. “I’m going to wreck the car. Why in God’s name would you think I would talk to your grandmother about sex?”
“Just don’t. Gigi isn’t a prude, but just don’t. She walked into my bedroom one night—”
“And you weren’t alone.”
“Of course I was alone!” she cried out. “I was at my grandmother’s house.”
“Then what happened?”
“She found out I don’t like to wear anything when I sleep.”
“Hey, Gigi and I have something in common. I found that out, too. Now, there’s something we could talk about.”
She ignored his smart-ass remark. “Ever since that night, Gigi buys me old-fashioned pajamas every chance she gets.”