Page 4 of Forced Proximity

She’d see a sparkly jewel. I’d see potential harm.

Smoothing my button-down shirt over my jeans brings forth a round of irritation after succumbing to the pressure of looking professional for the first meeting. I hate that I can never say no to Marcus. I yank on the cuffs, straighten my back, then ring the doorbell.

Be courteous, professional, and get the hell out of here as soon as humanly possible.

A man with a neatly trimmed golden beard, slim shoulders and standing a minimum of two inches shorter than me opens the door.

‘Hi, come on in. Doc, right?’ He shakes my hand. ‘Justin will be down in a second. I’m Anthony, his manager.’

‘Good to meet you.’ He escorts me into the home and leads me to the kitchen. Jesus. The waterfall edge island is bigger than my entire kitchen, and the refrigerator is the size of my apartment wall.

‘Can I get you something?’ He smacks his palms together. ‘Lemonade? Sparkling water?’

‘No, I’m good. This should be a quick meeting.’ Hopefully. ‘Confirming Mr Greenwood still doesn’t know the level of threats?’

‘Correct. We need our guy focused on his work, not on this crap.’ He cracks open a can of sparkling water and motions to the plush-topped chrome bar chairs at the island. ‘Also, please call him Justin. He doesn’t like formalities in his home.’

‘It’s best if he tells me that himself,’ I say as I lower myself onto the stool. Oh. It’s so cushy I may never leave. ‘The owner of our firm gave me a download, but I’d like to hear your side of things.’

He pulls up a chair across the island. ‘Well, these threats made their way up the chain at the studio and created some panic. We obviously filter a lot from Justin. You can’t even imagine the type of stuff people DM him. If they only knew it’s Margaret from Oklahoma that runs his account.’ He chuckles. ‘But these latest messages are more than the typical obsessive fanfare. We tossed around a few ideas and decided to flush the stalker out by increasing Justin’s public presence, but we want to keep him protected in case there really is some lunatic out there. With you by Justin’s side, ideally, you’ll capture the person, and we can all move on.’

The idea itself is not terrible – if all parties are on board, and the threat level seems mild enough. But they’re not telling Justin about this, which doesn’t feel right. I eye the sparkling water and curse myself for turning it down earlier. ‘We need to discuss increasing awareness for Mr Greenwood, though. I’m a staunch supporter of transparency with the client.’

‘Understood. We just don’t want him to worry. Besides, Justin can be … let’s say … easily distracted. His next project is the biggest budget film of his career. We’ve all got a lot riding on its success. We can’t afford for him to go rogue and try to solve this on his own, or step into some superhero savior complex.’ Anthony sips and wipes a droplet from his beard. ‘But we can discuss strategy and re-evaluate next week.’

My jaw tenses. The budget of the film should never take precedent over threats.

Footsteps grow closer outside the kitchen and Anthony stands with a broad smile. ‘Hey, Justin. Come in.’

So, this is the famous Justin Greenwood, in the flesh. A moment passes as I take him in. He’s probably impressive to those who care about a six-foot-three man with inky dark hair, acutely defined muscles and spectacular hazel eyes. Which I absolutely do not find impressive. He’s got that typical five o’clock shadow which is trying to scream this is how I woke up, but in reality I’d bet good money that he pays an esthetician top dollar to get that perfect cut line.

God, I wish I’d accepted that water.

I can’t help that my brain works like a database, analyzing everything. It’s a skill that keeps me safe, keeps my clients safe and allows me to sniff out danger like a pitbull searching for freshly cooked bacon. And it’s working overtime as my gaze passes over Justin. The relaxed shoulders and boyish grin, his hand casually at his side, with zero intimidation or nerves from meeting someone new. Arrogant. Confident. Clearly doesn’t give two shits. His outfit looks like he just threw something on, a simple T-shirt, jeans and sneakers. But the jeans are by a specialty designer that cost more than my rent and the sneakers are a custom Nike costing the same as my Jeep.

I swear I’m actively trying not to be judgmental. Really. But I can’t help it. All of this annoys the hell out of me, and the sooner I can wrap up this job, the sooner I can move on to something more exciting than a glorified babysitting gig.

‘Justin, meet Doc. Doc, Justin.’ Anthony points at each of us and appears to hold his breath.

I lift from the chair and give Justin an extra firm handshake, absolutely ignoring the perfect flex in his golden-tanned forearms. ‘Nice to meet you, Mr Greenwood.’

‘Call me Justin,’ he says with an easy smile.

A ridiculous, way too white of a smile, I might add. One level brighter and he’ll shatter my eyeballs.

Justin leans back on the counter and crosses his arms. And I move back to the island, far away from his I’m-so-not-styled-style haircut. ‘Doc, huh?’ he says. ‘Is that a nickname?’

‘Something like that.’ No chance will I ever tell someone like him that my real name is Lexi, or the story behind how I got the nickname Doc. I learned very quickly that when you let people in on these intimate stories, you become vulnerable. In my line of work vulnerability is a hazard.

His gaze canvasses me from my toes to my face. Not in gross creeper way, more like he’s studying me for an exam. I’m not sure I appreciate this anymore than if he were straight out staring at my tits. Several moments pass before he cracks a grin. ‘You’re my new bodyguard?’

My core goes taut at the typical reaction from the men I’m assigned to protect. ‘Is this funny to you?’ Too bad I’m not allowed to physically audition for my position. Putting a man like Justin on his back in one swift move would be seriously gratifying.

‘No, sorry. Not funny.’ He puts up his hands but his eyes are twinkling under the overhead lights. ‘I’ve just never had a girl bodyguard before.’

A sharp heat shoots up my neck. His voice might teeter on playfulness but I have less than zero desire to engage. ‘Girl? I see no girls here. I’m a grown woman. Thirty-four, actually. According to your file, I’m two years older than you. Should I refer to you as a boy?’

‘Jesus. This should be fun.’ He uncrosses his arms and flattens his palms against the counter. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. They told me my bodyguard was female. I just didn’t expect …’ His lips curl up and dimples pop on his cheeks.