Her Bodyguard. Peggy Nicholson

over Lara’s car this afternoon. Trace had the clout at Woodwind. He could persuade Lara to fire her, if he really wanted to; of that she was certain now. So I walk a tightrope here.

      He took another savoring sip. She watched his strong brown throat move as he swallowed. Another sip. He had a beautiful mouth, though very masculine. She could see why a woman might want him hanging around. Why he’d expect a woman to want him. Did Lara know he was unfaithful? Or was that simply an accepted part of the celebrity life-style? Maybe Lara didn’t care. Not everyone valued fidelity as Gillian did.

      “You know, you’ve been worrying me,” he said softly, rousing her from her trance.

      “Oh?” Her ever-ready sense of guilt came alive. She didn’t want to worry anyone at Woodwind. She’d come here to be the fly on the wall. To silently see all, then fly away. Bluff it out, she told herself. She lifted his empty glass from his fingers and set it emphatically on the counter, then tipped her head at the door and moved purposefully toward it.

      He pushed off the counter and padded alongside her with the loose-limbed grace of a sleepy tiger. “I’ve decided that someone who...” He paused and let the silence stretch.

      “Who...?” she prompted evenly. He’d noticed some discrepancy on her résumé? Or maybe—Reaching the door, she flipped the dead bolt and opened the door wide. Stood waiting for him to take the hint and go.

      He moved one step into the doorway, then swung back, much too close to her. His hand rose slowly.

      So this was another pass after all, nothing more. She narrowed her eyes in warning and raised her chin. Watched his beautifully carved lips quirk at the corners with amusement.