Page 10 of Guarding the Star

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She arrives at nine sharp, because obviously Paula Delgado would never be late.

I even cleaned the room. Well, I shoved the dirty clothes and the empty bottles under the bed, but it looks cleaned. Which, honestly, is ridiculous behavior because this woman is not a date. She's a bodyguard disguised as a girlfriend who's only here because someone is following me around.

“We need to agree on four things,” she says without even saying hello. “How we met. The limits of physical contact in public. Communication rules. And a safe word.”

“Safe word sounds like we're doing BDSM. I don't know if I'm ready, we just met,” I murmur, but once again, she doesn't laugh. This woman is a bore.

“Let's start with how we met.”

“Okay, how did we meet?” I ask.

“Through a mutual friend, not connected to soccer. Simple, hard to verify, doesn't require specific details. If anyone asks, it's a friend who lives in Texas now.”

“How long are we supposed to have been together?”

“Three weeks. Recent enough that nobody's seen us before. Serious enough that I'd be pissed about the photos and fly to Florida to sort things out. You didn't want the press involved, so we kept it quiet,” she explains.

“Okay. Where did we first meet? Was it like… love at first sight? I fell for your smile, and you took me home that same night? Because you do smile sometimes, right?”

“I don't like 'love at first sight.' I don't give off the vibe of someone who loses control.”

“Oh, come on, but that would make it even better. Ice queen melts for the blonde soccer player. People eat that stuff up. We're going to crush it on social media,” I add, giving her a light nudge with my elbow.

I'm not a hundred percent sure, but I think I caught something close to an attempted smile.

“First coffee in Capitol Hill,” she writes in a notebook. “Three weeks ago. It was your idea to ask me out.”

“Okay. Let's get to the serious part,” I say. “What are the limits in public?”

“Only what's necessary to maintain the cover,” she says. “Some affection. Touching, holding hands, that kind of thing.”

“Kissing? I'm a big kisser. All my teammates know that. It'd look weird if we didn't kiss.”

“Only if the situation calls for it,” she says, shifting slightly.

“With tongue?”

“If there were absolutely no other option.”

“So, never.”

“So, almost never.”

I lean toward her. Slow. I want to see if she gets nervous. She doesn't move. She doesn't pull back.

“Define 'if there were absolutely no other option,'” I whisper, just inches from her mouth. “I want to know where the line is.”

“If there were no other way to avoid raising suspicion that could compromise the operation,” she says without flinching.

“That's not a definition. That's a line from the bodyguard manual,” I complain.

“Then give me an example.”

“I just want it to look real,” I say, pulling back.

“It'll look real. Don't worry.”