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She smiled. “Who knew the famed Ike Porter could do romance?”
He couldn’t respond. If he opened his mouth, he’d beg her to ‘do romance,’ to be a couple, to forget this assignment and go somewhere very private and kiss the next few weeks away.
Myra bent forward, and he couldn’t help but glance over. She slid first one high heel and then the other back onto her feet, strapping them on. Her lean calf muscles flexed and her long dark hair trailed over her tanned skin as she bent forward. Enthralling.
The car’s voice told him their destination was on the right. He concentrated on driving. Extremely difficult tasks like flipping on his blinker, pulling off the highway and up to the security gate.
He’d never been in such deep trouble.
Chapter
Five
Myra couldn’t keep her gaze from Ike as he talked to the security guard at the gatehouse and then pulled through the wrought-iron, electric gate and up the short drive to the sprawling mansion. It was a light gray stucco exterior with loads of windows set right on the cliff above Dana Point Beach.
She should be admiring the gorgeous home, but all she could see was Ike. She didn’t know if she was helping either of them relax and get comfortable with touching each other. She kept teasing him and trying to draw him out. It was thrilling. She couldn’t believe how bold she’d been with him. Had she really kissed his neck?
She licked her lips. Yes, she had, and yes his skin had tasted scrumptious. The simple kiss had set off fireworks inside her, especially when he’d almost wrecked. That was so telling and adorable. Not that Ike could ever be adorable, but was he interested in her?
Touching him had been astonishing. She’d known there was something special between them since she had met him a year ago, but they’d never spent enough time together to test it.
How would she react when he touched her back? Would she flinch, jump, almost run a car off the road, or melt against him?
How would she focus on the job and not get distracted by her too-appealing, fake boyfriend in private? If only she didn’t have to pretend to be Beau’s girlfriend in public. Ugh.
He pushed the button for park and still didn’t look at her. “Let me get your door.”
“Because you’re my fake boyfriend?”
“That and a gentleman.” He did look at her then. A challenging look.
Myra had been raised around a valley full of gentlemen in Wyoming. She appreciated and respected them, but she was a female fighting to succeed in a male-dominated career. She insisted repeatedly, and eventually the other male bodyguards had learned not to do chivalrous things like get her door. Those who’d sparred with her had also learned to trust her fighting skills and not instinctively protect her and endanger themselves and their clients.
She and Ike hadn’t fought together. Yet. She wanted to fight side by side with him, but she really wished she could spar with him first. He’d win, but she’d learn from sparring with someone as strong and skilled as Ike, and she’d take any excuse to touch him.
He was waiting for her to answer.
“Fine,” she finally said. “For the op.”
Ike looked like he wanted to discuss it further, but he simply climbed out and strode around the front of the vehicle. He had that presence that shouted, I am in charge of my corner of the world, and you don’t want to mess with me.
She’d seen him dressed in tailored suits and workout gear and appreciated both. The business casual, short-sleeved white button down and gray pants worked fabulous for him as well.
He opened her door and offered his hand. She placed her hand in his and felt all the tingly excitement she’d felt during their hand-holding session in the car. He helped her out of the car and released her hand.
“I don’t think so.” She leaned in and whispered against his neck, “A couple, remember?”
“Got it,” he muttered.
Was he annoyed? He was an expert at hiding his emotions; she couldn’t get a read on him.
Instead of sliding their hands together, he placed his hand on her lower back and guided her across the concrete walkway and up onto the spacious front porch. That worked. She liked the heat of his hand through her blouse and the possessiveness of the move. She was warm all over from his touch, but she thought she was handling it pretty well.
“Impressive place,” she said, glancing around at the two-story mansion and the water features, flowering bushes, and trees giving some privacy from the road.
He only nodded.
The front door swung wide before they reached it, and Beau Alexander himself stood framed in it. His handsome face split in a welcoming smile. He was tall and well-built, his dark skin shadowed with a short beard. About the same height as Ike, but not as thick through the chest and shoulders. It was surreal to have someone as famous as Beau Alexander open the door and grin like he was their best friend.
