Page 75 of Thirsty Bodyguard Summer

Cassidy smiled.

“I should let them in,” she said.

“You absolutely should not.”

“This is still an active venue.”

“The threat is in custody.”

“The press isn’t.”

“That’s worse.”

She kissed me quickly, unlocked the door, and returned to work before I could persuade her that career consequences were worth another minute.

Tracy entered with two bottles of water and a towel.

She handed me all three. “Drink, wipe off, and prepare to be congratulated by people who’ll pretend they weren’t panicking twenty minutes ago.”

“I need food.”

“Backstage takeout is coming.”

Cassidy opened the door wider for the next security check.

I drank the water and stepped into the corridor beside her.

SUNDAY MORNING SMELLEDlike cold fries and sunscreen.

A paper carton sat open on the kitchenette counter beside two empty water bottles. My champagne bomber hung from the chair back, one sleeve brushing the floor. Cassidy’s dark-navy work top had joined it sometime after two in the morning.

We hadn’t had sex.

By the time we reached the secured cottage, she’d iced her arm, eaten half the fries, completed the final handoff, and fallen asleep with her head on my chest.

Now she stood barefoot near the French doors in her white tank and coral shorts.

She wasn’t wearing an earpiece.

Morning light touched the freckles across her shoulders. The bruise on her forearm had turned purple near the center.

I crossed the room behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist.

“You’re supposed to be resting that arm.”

“I was opening a curtain.”

“Reckless.”

“You performed after someone tried to attack you.”

“Cassidy prevented the attack.”

“She’s very good.”

“She’s incredible.”

I kissed the side of her neck.