Deep Focus
And that was all he was going to say about it. He was done with this conversation—stick a fork in him. It made him uncomfortable and reminded him of many nights as a kid watching his mother cry and eat ice cream straight from the container after yet another failed attempt at happily-ever-after. There was no happily-ever-after, end of story. So while he didn’t want to be a dick himself, he wanted Melanie to phone a friend when they got to Mexico and leave him out of it.
He had sworn off relationships himself since Danielle. Before her had been Lynn, and before Lynn there was Allison. All three had left him, and he figured after three strikes, he was out. It wasn’t his game. He was determined that short-term hookups would be his new reality, and if Melanie wanted honest advice, that was what he would tell her. But she wouldn’t. No one wanted to hear his cynical thoughts on love.
She nodded, still sniffling. When she bent over to root around in her bag again, her shirt rode up, exposing the small of her back and the curve of her backside. Hunter cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably. The one thing he definitely had not bargained on was finding his client attractive. Melanie was beautiful, even when she was crying. She had delicate features and plump pink lips that lured his thoughts straight into dangerous territory. Her tight jeans and loose-fitting shirt called attention to the fact that she was petite and feminine and curvy in all the right ways.
When he’d taken the assignment, he’d been led to believe Melanie was going alone by choice, and he’d anticipated being treated like an employee. That was fine with him, because it was a job, and he needed the work. But this scenario was far worse, hands down. There was no buffer. No way to remain remote and silent in the background, which was what he preferred. He was stuck making awkward conversation and poor attempts at comforting her broken heart. This was worse than Afghanistan. Okay, not really, but it was worse than the time he’d gotten heat rash on his jock. He was squirming just as badly.
Melanie sat back up, having retrieved a tissue, which she was using to dab at her eyes. Makeup was streaked on her cheeks. Hunter decided that if it had been him, he would have waited until after the vacation to break things off. What the hell was wrong with Ian Bainbridge that he didn’t want to spend a week with Melanie in a bikini? That prospect was the only redeeming thing about this work assignment. She was sweet, though, too, so what was Ian’s problem? Why would he let this woman get onto a plane without him?
The guy clearly had issues.
Hunter had issues, too, but according to his exes, his were more along the lines of inability to communicate his feelings and failure to be romantic. He wasn’t a commitmentphobe. Nor was he a dick. He would be perfectly happy to spend a week on a beach with a sexy girlfriend, if he had one. Which he did not.
“I mean, am I that stupid?” Melanie asked him, still dabbing at her eyes. “The truth is, I knew things weren’t great between us. The whole point of this stupid vacation was to fix the problems in our relationship. That really worked. Not. And now I’m out a ton of money.”
“At least you didn’t get pregnant,” he said. “That’s a really expensive way to save a relationship.” He meant it as a joke, but she gave him a look that indicated he was in no way funny. He mentally kneed himself in the nuts. He knew better than to tease a woman who was crying. Years of his mother’s dating had taught him that, but maybe he had been in the desert too long.
“Don’t joke about being pregnant. That’s like tempting fate.” But then her face screwed up. “Not that I can possibly be pregnant, given it’s been six weeks since we had sex.”
Oh, no. This was not information he wanted. Because now he didn’t know what to do with it.
“I’m sorry. What I said was in poor taste.” He yanked a magazine out of the seat pocket in front of him and handed it to her. “Why don’t you read something and try to distract yourself?”
She blinked and eyed the magazine he was holding out to her without taking it. “Skymiles? You think vibrating massage chairs and cat condos for sale are going to distract me from the fact that I mean absolutely and utterly nothing to the man I care about?”
“You’ll never know unless you try.” He was damn hopeful she would.
Shaking her head, she gave a watery laugh. “No, thanks. I’d rather wallow.”
Not him. He’d rather be eaten alive by piranhas than sit in his own misery. He’d perfected the art of avoiding grief and disappointment. “Well, you wallow away, then, without me interfering. I’ll read the magazine.” He opened it up and stared blankly at an extensive gate system that was for...dogs? He wasn’t sure. What he was sure of was that he didn’t want to talk anymore.
He felt for the girl, he really did. It wasn’t that he couldn’t sympathize, but he knew how this went. She would lament and rail and sink into self-doubt and he would nod and express sympathy and tell her she was worth so much more—which she was—and he would be exhausted and she wouldn’t believe him anyway. He’d done this. He was that guy, the one every woman went to for advice, which they all subsequently ignored. But the last thing he wanted to talk about right now was relationships, when he was determined to give up on the concept altogether.
Melanie was silent for a whopping sixty seconds before she sighed loudly and said, “Maybe when we get to Mexico I should turn around and go home.”
As much as Hunter wanted to end this conversation, he couldn’t let that go. “Can you get a refund on your trip?”
“No.”
“Then why would you go home to the snow and cold? Enjoy the vacation, Melanie, as much as you can. Don’t let Ian ruin your time off work.”
“I even booked excursions,” she said, sounding so forlorn he wanted to put his arm around her and pull her against his chest for a hug. Like the guy who listens and gives advice. Damn his mother. She’d done this to him.
“Who goes zip-lining by themselves? It’s pathetic.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“You will?” She blinked up at him with hopeful eyes.
“Of course. It’s my job.”
That was the wrong thing to say. She made a face. “Great. So I have a paid companion. Even better.”
“I’d do it even if I wasn’t being paid.” But it was too little too late. He shoved the magazine back into the pocket in front of him. This was going to be a long-ass trip with no relief in sight, and the ibuprofen he’d taken for his bum arm wasn’t going to be any help.
She gave a snort. “Thanks.”
He didn’t know what to say then, so he said nothing.
After a minute, she said, “You know what chaps my ass?”
“Uh, no.” He couldn’t even begin to guess.
“I was forcing myself to love Ian. Can you believe that?” She was shredding the tissue in her lap, a little pile gathering on top of her seat belt buckle. “It all seemed so good on paper, and when I pictured myself with a man, it was always with an artistic type, not a macho man. Yet I never really loved Ian, not like I was supposed to.”
“Well, that’s great,” he said, suddenly feeling a whole lot better about the next week. Maybe this meant he wasn’t in for seven solid days of tears after all. “So you weren’t really meant to be with him. Better to know that now rather than later.” Though he wished it hadn’t been on his watch.
“I wouldn’t say it’s great. It’s still humiliating and hurtful. I mean, I was willing to try. To nurture our relationship and let it grow. Why wasn’t he?”
“You’re not a tree,” he told her bluntly. “It doesn’t grow. It’s either there or it isn’t.”
“What, like love at first sight?”
“No. But chemistry, attraction. Admiration. Driving and compelling interest. That’s all there from the jump. If it’s not, you can’t force it.” Hell, he should know. With the exception of his first serious relationship, he’d taken the rational, think with your head, not your heart approach and it hadn’t worked. Danielle had been right when she’d said he lacked emotion. They both had been remote because they didn’t have that intense interest in each other.
She frowned. “How do you know if it’s there or not?”
Was she serious? Hunter felt his eyebrows shoot up. “You know. Don’t tell me you don’t know when you find someone attractive.” Like he found her. God, her lips looked as though they’d been made for kissing. Did she realize that? Apparently not.
“Well, sure. I guess. I mean, I look at you and I can see that you’re an attractive man, but that doesn’t mean we’d be compatible.”
Hunter thought she was missing the point. It was more than that. Way more. But he didn’t mind hearing that she found him attractive. “I’m not just talking about physical attraction.”
“Are you saying you don’t find me physically attractive?” Melanie bundled up all her tissue scraps and tossed them in her purse with more force than was necessary.
Minefields. Everywhere he walked with women. “That is not what I was saying. At all. Yes, I find you physically attractive.” Which was an understatement. She actually came pretty close to his image of the ideal woman with her blond hair, her juicy mouth, her perky breasts and narrow waist. She made him want to protect her from harm, and at the same time he wanted to push her up against a wall and make her scream with pleasure. But telling her that would be completely unprofessional. He was still on a job. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
“I don’t feel beautiful. I feel foolish. And a little airsick.”
Yikes. That was all they needed. “Here. Lie down and close your eyes.” He patted his legs, indicating that she should stretch out.
“You don’t mind?”
He minded a lot of things, but despite his desperate desire to stay remote with his client, he didn’t want her getting sick. Plus that indescribable “it” he had mentioned to her? He felt it. That tug of chemistry, of desire, in both his groin and his chest. He was attracted to her, yes, but he also felt...interest.
Not good. Not good at all.
Which made offering for her to sprawl across his lap incredibly stupid. When she did, her body felt warm and soft on his hard thighs. She glanced up at him with big brown eyes. “You’re very hard.”
“Excuse me?” He wasn’t there yet, but if she kept shifting around like that, he would be, and she’d get an earful.
“Your legs. They’re very muscular. Not the best pillow.”
Right.
She smiled up at him. “But thank you. I appreciate it.” Squeezing his knee, she added, “You’re sweet.”
Hunter grunted in response. She closed her eyes.
And his job, among other things down south, got a whole hell of a lot harder than he could have ever predicted.
2
IT HAD BEEN a mistake to lie on Hunter’s legs. Melanie kept her eyes closed, but not to sleep. It was to avoid looking at him. She was very aware of how close she was to his crotch, and how firm his body was under hers. His hand resting on her side was enormous, heavy, warm. She felt surrounded by him, protected.
And he smelled like the woods. As if he’d chopped a cord of firewood, thrown on a suit and jumped on a plane, all without skipping a beat. It was appealing.
There was something dangerous about this. She was vulnerable. Hurt. Embarrassed. Hunter was sexy and very masculine. She didn’t want to fall into that trap of needing to prove she was feminine and desirable by having rebound sex. Not that Hunter wanted to have sex with her. Despite saying he found her attractive, he’d been looking at her like he was in pain since the minute he’d met her. She was sure he’d simply been tossing out a compliment because he felt sorry for her and she’d backed him into a corner.
So even if she wanted to make the massive mistake of using Hunter to make her feel better about herself, it wasn’t going to work. He wasn’t interested. Though he was being very nice in a pained, aloof sort of way. He was patient and he was trying to offer sympathy. Despite her deep humiliation, she needed to pull herself together and not make Hunter pay for Ian’s sins. Ian was back at the airport blithely doing what he loved to do and leaving a total stranger to clean up his mess. She hoped Hunter was being adequately paid for his time.
Shifting slightly on his lap, she evened out her breathing and reflected. She was ashamed to realize that she had been trying to salvage a union that had never stood a chance in the first place. Sure, she cared about Ian, but how well did she really know him? There had been compatibility, yet no connection. Why had she been so willing to settle for that, and why did it still hurt so much? She’d never thought of herself as having a fragile ego, but apparently she did.
Maybe it wouldn’t have been so painful if Ian had taken her out to dinner and told her face-to-face. They could have discussed it, mutually agreed that something was off, given each other a mature and slightly sad kiss goodbye and gotten on with their lives. This was different. This was bullshit. This was her only vacation for the year and Ian had ruined it summarily, without cause or concern. Hunter was right. Ian was a dick. Sad to think she’d devoted a year to a dick, and not even the good kind.
Which suddenly made her aware of how long it had been since she’d had sex. And how close she was to Hunter’s penis. Her thoughts went full circle.
She decided to sit up.
Hunter gave her a look of surprise. “You okay?”
“I have to go to the restroom.” It was a lie. She just needed to evacuate his lap before her thoughts took a turn into the gutter. It was as if her body had been all primed for booty on this vacation, and her hormones weren’t about to back down now that plans had changed. Even though Hunter couldn’t read her mind, she felt self-conscious.
“That’s right, you had to go before we boarded.” Hunter unclicked his seat belt and stood up in the aisle so she could scoot past him.
“Thanks.” She eased out of the seat and started down the aisle. Locking herself in the microscopic restroom, she glanced in the mirror and almost passed out. Good gravy, she looked like hell in a handbasket. Her face was swollen and splotchy and her hair was a disaster from running her hands through it nervously. There was no way Hunter was going to be attracted to her now that she’d taken a ride on the Hot Mess Express.
After splashing water on her face, she tried to pat her hair down, but it was hopeless. She hadn’t brought her purse with her, so there was no real way to repair the damage. Not that lip gloss was going to change the fact that her eyes were swollen and her nose was stuffy. She rolled her neck and shoulders and tried to swallow the reality that she was winging her way to Mexico with a man who was a total stranger. There was no turning back, no getting out of it.
She would literally be paying for this vacation for the next six months at least, so she could either lock herself in her hotel room and cry, or she could reset her idea of what the trip was going to be and try to enjoy it. She was still leaving winter behind. She didn’t have to work. There would be dessert buffets and salsa dancing. And while Hunter wasn’t going to be kissing her naked body, he was far better company than, say, her mother. Or a crying baby. Or a baboon. All of those would be worse options for travel companions.
A sexy stranger should not be a hardship.
Opening the restroom door with the violent shove it required, she went back down the aisle carefully, determined to make the best of things and to try to get to know Hunter a little better. The poor man was saddled with an awkward work assignment, aka her, so the least she could do was try to make the whole thing less awful for both of them.
He began to stand as she approached so she could reach her window seat, but she waved him back down. “I can squeeze past. Don’t worry about it.” She felt guilty enough about falling apart on him.
But right as she started to maneuver her way by, they hit a pocket of turbulence and the plane jumped. Knocked off balance, Melanie gave a small cry of alarm and tried to grab the seat in front of her. Too late. She fell against Hunter with all the grace of a hippo doing ballet. She didn’t land in his lap. That would have been better. No, instead she basically shoved her butt right on up against his chest.
Scrambling and stumbling, she pulled her body away from him and tried to throw herself at her seat. Hunter put his hands on her hips.
“Steady,” he said.
Right. Steady. That was her. Hair in her eyes, she shifted to the right. But he had shifted as well, and somehow she managed to knock her hip into his arm. “Sorry,” she said, breathless. She turned to face him and blew her hair off her face. “These seats are really narrow.”
He looked more amused than irritated. “I could have just stood up.”
“I didn’t want to inconvenience you,” she said, bracing herself as the plane lurched again. She stood between his legs, his hands still on her waist. “Shall we dance?” she joked.
“The only kind of dance I know that starts out like this is a lap dance,” he said wryly.
Oh, jeez. Her cheeks burned. She did not want him to think she was flirting. “I was thinking more along the lines of the rumba. Clearly we spend our weekends in different ways.”
Hunter laughed.
It was the first time he had, and it was a deep, rumbling, pleasant sound.
Melanie smiled at him. For the first time since Ian had told her he wasn’t getting on that flight with her, she didn’t feel as though she was on the verge of losing it.
“Lap rumba?” he asked. “It’s all about compromise.”
“Because I’m so graceful.” She made another move toward her seat and, as if to prove her point, managed to bump his arm on the way by.
He winced.
“Oh! Sorry.” Now she was causing him pain. “Are you okay? Did my butt pop your arm out of the socket or something? I’ve always been something of a klutz.”
Back in her seat at last, she turned to see him shaking his head.
“It’s just an old injury. Don’t worry about it.”
“Really? How did you hurt yourself?”
“I fell out of a Humvee after we hit a mine and broke my arm in four places.”
She wasn’t exactly well versed in vehicles but she was pretty sure that was what they drove in the military. “Wow, that sounds painful. So you were in the service? How long have you been out?”
“Three months.”
That was way more recent than she would have expected. “Oh! So you had a long career, then. What made you decide to leave—your injury?”
He gave her a look she couldn’t decipher. “Are you calling me old?”
She rolled her eyes. “No. But you’re clearly not twenty-two, either. I just meant it wasn’t as if you did a few years and got out. It was a commitment.”
“It was. Twelve years. I would still be serving if it wasn’t for my injury. I realized it was time to pack it in. I just turned thirty.”
There was the rub. Not her comment, but his own fear of aging. Of starting a new life and career and feeling superfluous. “Thirty is the new twenty.”
“Now you’re calling me immature.”
But the corner of his mouth turned up.
“I’m trying to get to know you,” she said, nudging his knee with hers. “Stop being difficult about it.”
“Why the hell would you want to get to know me? I’m your bodyguard.”
“You’re my only company for the next seven days.” The look he gave her was so pained she laughed. “Thanks for being so thrilled.” Then a thought occurred to her. “Wait, you are staying the whole time, aren’t you?”
The thought of him leaving after just a couple of days upset her, and she wasn’t entirely sure why.
“Yes, I’m staying. But I thought you said you weren’t afraid of Ian’s stalker.”
“I’m not. I’m afraid of being...bored.” Alone. She was afraid to be alone.
That was an unnerving thought to have. Was that why she’d been willing to settle for the half-assed attention of Ian Bainbridge? Because having a boyfriend, even one who was never around, was better than not having one at all? God, she wasn’t in middle school anymore.
She wasn’t that needy. She knew she wasn’t. But she was a woman who thought that she could organize everything in her life, including romance. She lived by lists, and Ian had ticked all the boxes on her checklist of what her ideal partner should be.
“How can you be bored when you have zip-lining to try?”
There was that. She wasn’t even going to mention that she’d also signed up for exploring Mayan ruins and horseback riding on the beach. Her credit card must be on fire.
“You shouldn’t go zip-lining with me with your injury, by the way. I can go by myself.” She didn’t want to guilt her bodyguard into doing something that would set his recovery back.
“I can go freaking zip-lining. I’m not paralyzed. Hell, even paralyzed I could still do it.”
Uh-oh. She’d pierced his male pride. “Don’t get your panties in a wad. I was trying to let you off the hook, not imply you’re incapable.” She couldn’t help but add, “And you could reinjure yourself.”
“I’m fine.” He undid his seat belt and leaned forward.
“Where are you going?” Melanie asked, suddenly panicking. Was he leaving? Not that he had anywhere to go. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to be alone with her thoughts now any more than she wanted to be alone on tourist excursions.
“I’m taking my jacket off. It’s hotter than hell in here.”
He sounded irritable.
“Oh. Here.” She reached up and turned his airflow on.
“Thanks.” Hunter did his best to shake off his jacket in the tight space.
It was tempting to help him as he struggled out of it, but she figured his balls might shrivel up and fall off if she did. Why did men feel so emasculated by accepting help? And good God, how tempting was it to touch those arms? He was wearing a light blue dress shirt, so she didn’t have the greatest view of his biceps, but without the jacket it was clear that despite what he’d said, he’d brought the guns. Jeez Louise.
“So...you didn’t bring any swimwear?” she asked, striving for casual. Any heterosexual woman past puberty and under the age of, oh, death would want to take a gander at him without a shirt. It was just reality, and she wasn’t about to feel guilty about it. Much. It might fall under the category of objectifying him, but at least she wasn’t paying his salary. No boss-employee conflict of interest here.
Not that she was doing anything other than looking. She was getting to know him. As a potential friend. That was it. She had to remember that and not throw herself at his hard, gorgeous body.
Damn it. Where was the flight attendant with the service cart? She needed some water.
* * *
HUNTER REALLY NEEDED a glass of water. Between the small confines of the plane and the fact that Melanie didn’t seem to understand how attractive she was or what she was doing to him every time she brushed against him, he was burning up. When her ass, perfectly cupped in those tight jeans, had bumped against his chest, it had taken all of his willpower to keep from pulling her down onto his lap for a more enjoyable plane ride for both of them.
He shifted his jacket over his erection and put his seat-back tray down, as well. Anything to hide his embarrassing state of arousal. This was a job. She was a client. It wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t gotten laid in fourteen months. Fourteen long, celibate, lonely months. He’d been pumped to get home from Afghanistan despite the arm, because he didn’t need two functioning arms to take his girlfriend to bed. All those months he’d been fantasizing and waiting for the moment when he could nail Danielle again, and he’d gotten home with his cast off and his libido primed. But instead of a weekend sex fest, he’d gotten dumped.
“I brought a pair of trunks, sure. I have to blend in and look as though I belong on the beach.” He was going to be sitting in a beach chair watching Melanie in her bathing suit. He was praying for a bikini. It just had to be a bikini.
