Page 13 of The Bodyguard's Bookworm
“Rhodes.”
“Got a serious offer for you,” Jenner says without greeting. “High-profile family, private security detail overseas. Three months minimum, possibly four. Pay is excellent, travel covered, hazard bonus built in.”
I look back toward Emi’s bedroom. The door is half-open, and I can see the pale tangle of sheets around her body. “Where overseas?”
He gives me the location, then runs through the basic outline. Private compound. Politically connected client. Rotating team. Clean contract, good money, the kind of assignment I would have taken without hesitation a week ago. The kind of job that makes sense for a man with no one waiting at home.
“What’s the timeline?” I ask.
“Fast. They want wheels up in forty-eight hours.”
My grip tightens around the phone. Forty-eight hours. Three months away from Emi when I’ve barely had her. Three monthswith someone else’s safety as my entire world, while the woman I already know is mine opens her store every morning, walks to her car at night, and pretends she doesn’t need anyone watching the door.
“I need to think about it.”
Silence stretches on the other end. “You need to think about it?”
“You heard me.”
Jenner gives a short laugh, more confused than amused. “Since when?”
“Since now.”
“All right, but they’re not going to wait long. I’ll need an answer today.”
“You’ll get one.”
I end the call and turn around to find Emi standing in the bedroom doorway wearing nothing but my T-shirt. Her hair is messy, her eyes sleepy. She looks soft and rumpled and mine in a way that makes every part of my body go still.
“Everything okay?” she asks, her voice rough from sleep.
I go to her. When I bend to kiss her, I mean for it to be sweet. It is, at first. Then her lips part under mine, and the memory of last night hits so hard it makes me groan against her mouth.
When I pull back, her eyes are wider. “That was a convincing good morning.”
“Good morning,” I say, kissing her again. “Everything’s fine. It was a call about a potential job.”
She searches my face. “A big one?”
I nod. “Can we make coffee while we talk?”
She smiles. “I’ll make the coffee. You talk.”
We move into the kitchen, where she starts the coffee while I lean against the counter and watch her.
“It’s an overseas assignment,” I say. “Three months minimum. They want an answer today.”
Her hands pause on the coffee scoop. “That’s soon.”
“It is.”
“And you’d leave right away?”
“In a couple days.”
She nods, looking down at the coffee maker. “Is it the kind of job you usually take?”
“Yes.”
