Bodyguard: Outrageous / Riley. Lori Foster

to give up. One minute he was rigid, his posture so imposing she had to use all her willpower not to cower. Then suddenly, he was idly rubbing his forehead. “Let’s get out of here and you can tell me exactly what you want.”

      Oh, no. She wouldn’t tell him that, because what she wanted from him and what was proper were two very different things. But she forgave herself the mental transgression. No woman could possibly be in the same room with this man without having a few fantasies wing through her mind.

      Trying for some vagrant humor to lighten his sour mood, she asked, “Wouldn’t you like to change first?”

      Staring at her, his jaw worked as if he was grinding his teeth. Then he gave one brisk nod. “Turn your head.”

      Emily blinked. “Turn my…Now wait just a minute! I’ll go out to the bar and—”

      “No way. I can’t trust you not to disappear. Just turn around and stare at the door. I’ll only be a minute.”

      “But I’ll know what you’re doing!”

      He smirked, that was the only word for it. “What’s the matter, honey? You afraid you won’t be able to resist peeking, knowing I’ll be buck naked?”

      That was a pretty accurate guess. Emily shook her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. It just isn’t right, that’s all.”

      “Afraid one of your society friends might meander along and catch you doing something naughty?” He snorted. “Trust me. Not too many upper-crust types visit this part of town. You won’t catch yourself in the middle of a scandal.”

      But she had been caught once, and it had been the most humiliating experience of her life. She’d been alienated from her family ever since.

      She thought of that horrid man and nearly cringed. She’d thought herself so above her parents, so understanding of the underprivileged. And she still believed that way. A gentleman was a gentleman, no matter his circumstances. Decency wasn’t something that could be bought. But the man who had swept her off her feet, shown her passion and excitement, had proven himself to be anything but decent.

      She’d nearly married him before she’d realized he only wanted her money. Not her. Never her. He’d used her, used her family, made a newsworthy pest of himself, and her parents had never forgiven her for it.

      She could still hear herself trying to explain her actions. But her mother believed a lady didn’t involve herself in such situations, under any circumstances.

      A lady never lost her head to something as primal as lust.

      Lifting her chin, Emily gave Judd the frostiest stare she could devise. “I can most certainly control myself.” Then she turned her back on him. “Go right ahead, Mr. Sanders. But please make it quick. It is getting rather late.”

      Emily heard him chuckling, heard the rustle of clothing, and she held her breath. It was only a matter of a minute and a half before he told her she could turn around.

      Very slowly, just in case he was toying with her, Emily peered at him. He was dressed in jeans, and had pulled on a flannel shirt. He was sitting on a crate, tugging on low boots. When he stood to fasten his shirt, Emily noticed he hadn’t yet done up his jeans. She tried not to blush, but it was a futile effort.

      He ignored her embarrassment. “So, Emily. Where exactly are you from?”

      Her gaze was on his hands as he shoved his shirttails into his pants. “The Crystal Lakes area,” she said. “And you?”

      He gave a low, soft whistle. “The Crystal Lakes? Damn. No kidding?”

      Annoyed, she finally forced her attention to his face. “I certainly wouldn’t lie about it.”

      He took her arm and led her out of the storeroom. He had stuffed his dance props into the leather satchel he carried in his other hand. “I’ll bet you live in a big old place with plenty of rooms, don’t you?”

      Emily eyed him with a wary frown. She wasn’t certain how much she should tell him about herself. “I have enough space, I suppose.”

      He asked abruptly, “How did you get here?”

      “Actually, I took the bus. I didn’t think parking my car here would be such a good idea.”

      “No doubt. What do you drive, anyway? A Rolls?”

      “Of course not.”

      “So?” He pulled her out the door and into the brisk night. “What do you tool around in?”

      “Tool around? I drive a Saab.”

      “Ah.”

      “What does that mean? Ah?” He was moving her along again, treating her like a dog on a leash. And with his long-legged stride, it was all she could do to keep up. He stopped near a back alley, and Emily realized they were at the rear of the bar. “Why didn’t we just go out the back door instead of walking all the way around?”

      “‘Ah’ means your choice of transportation shouldn’t surprise me. And we came this way so I could spare you from being harassed. Believe me, the men working in the back would have a field day with an innocent like you.”

      Don’t ask. Don’t ask. “What makes you believe I’m an innocent?”

      Judd opened the door to a rusty, disreputable pickup truck and motioned for her to get inside. She hesitated, suddenly not certain she should trust him.

      But he only stood there, watching her with that intense, probing green gaze. Finally, Emily grabbed the door frame to hoist herself inside.

      Judd shook his head. “And you ask how I know you’re an innocent?”

      Before Emily could reply, he slammed the door and walked around to get in behind the wheel. “Buckle up.”

      She watched his profile as he steered the truck out of the alley and onto the main road. The lights from well-spaced street lamps flashed across his features. Trying to avoid staring at him, she looked around the truck and she saw a strip of delicate black lace draped over the rearview mirror.

      Judd noticed her fascination with the sheer lace and grinned. “A memento of my youth.”

      Trying for disinterest, Emily muttered, “Really.”

      “I was sixteen, she was eighteen.”

      Sixteen. The same age as her brother—and obviously into as much mischief as John.

      Judd ran his fingers down the lace as if in fond memory. “We were in such a hurry, we ripped her panties getting them off.” He flashed her a grin. “Black lace still makes me crazy.”

      Emily went perfectly quiet, then tightly crossed her legs. There’s no way he can know what your panties look like, Emily, she told herself. But still, she made an effort to bring the conversation back to her purpose. She had to find a way to help John.

      Reminded of the reason she was with Judd in the first place, Emily turned to him. Taking a deep breath, she said, “I need to find out who’s selling semiautomatic weapons to kids. I…I know a boy who had one blow up in his face. He was badly injured. Luckily, no one else was around.”

      The truck swerved, and Judd shot her a look that could have cut ice. “Blew up?”

      His tone was harsh, and Emily couldn’t help huddling closer against her door. “Yes. He very nearly lost an eye.”

      Judd muttered a curse, but when he glanced at her again, his expression was carefully controlled. “Did you go to the police?”

      “I can’t.” She tightened her lips, feeling frustrated all over again. “The boy’s parents won’t allow him to be implicated. They refuse to realize just how serious this situation is. They have money, so they took him out of the country to be treated. They won’t return until they’re certain he’s safe.”

      “Yeah.