Her Soldier Protector. Сорейя Лейн

it was probably something she’d inherited from her mom. Her mom might have been an incredible businesswoman, but she’d also had to raise Candace singlehandedly because of her poor decisions when it came to the male species.

      Candace sighed, reached out for her first outfit, ran her hands down the silk, shut her eyes and imagined herself on stage, wearing it. Listening to the crowd. Holding the microphone as the band started to play. Hair and makeup would be back any minute, and so would her stylist.

      She could do this. She’d performed a hundred times before, and Logan had promised her that the venue was safe and secure. She needed to forget the stupid threats and just do what she did best. Because no matter what happened to her, no one could ever take away her love of singing. Performing was the love of her life and it always would be.

      This was her time to shine.

      * * *

      “You a fan of country music?”

      Logan glanced at the woman standing beside him, her headset pulled back so she could talk to him. She was holding a tablet, and until now she’d had her eyes glued to it and had been speaking intently into her headset.

      “I can’t say I’ve ever really listened to it before,” he admitted. Truth be told, he’d never listened to it because he’d never really liked it before, but watching this particular performance was fast converting him to the genre.

      “She’s pretty incredible to watch,” the woman said, pulling on her headset again. “I get to see a lot of performers, but she’s hands down the most talented and nicest we’ve hosted yet.”

      Logan smiled in reply and turned his attention back to Candace. As the song finished she wowed the crowd with her mesmerizing, soft laugh, before turning around and waving toward the band so they could have their own round of applause. He was pleased that she’d asked him to watch, but he’d actually been employed to stay until the end of her concert anyway. He just hadn’t told her that.

      “Thank you for having me here tonight!” she told her fans. “Australia is one of the most beautiful countries I’ve ever visited, and I wish I had more time to spend here.”

      The applause was deafening, but Logan could no more take his eyes off her and walk away than he could stop breathing. If there was such a thing as star power, she had it—on stage she wasn’t the sweet, soft-spoken woman he’d spent time with earlier in the day. Up there, her presence was almost overpowering, and the screaming fans only seemed to make her light up more in front of them, her confidence soaring as they encouraged her.

      As she burst into another song, Logan leaned against the wall where he was standing. The past year had been nothing short of hard, unbearable, and being here tonight, watching Candace, was the kind of night he’d needed, even if it was technically work.

      When Sam had died...hell. He didn’t want to go back there. Losing one of his closest friends so soon after his parents’ accident, then coming so close to losing another under different circumstances, not to mention deciding to retire—he’d only just pulled through. But the rush he’d felt when Candace had said yes to a night out with him had given him a much needed boost. He was ready to add some nice memories to his thought bank, and Candace was exactly the kind of memory he’d prefer to dwell upon.

      He looked up as the next song came to an end, and the next thing he knew Candace was running toward him.

      “What did you think?” she asked, eyes flashing as she glanced at him, a big smile on her face as she ran in her heels. “The crowd is crazy here!”

      She kept moving, not pausing, so Logan spun and jogged to keep up with her, even as she was surrounded by a group of people who started to tug at her clothes and talk a million miles an hour.

      “You were great out there,” he managed when the crowd paused for a nanosecond.

      “You really think so?”

      There was an innocence in her gaze that made Logan smile, because this was the woman he’d glimpsed earlier. The one who was so used to being told by others what they thought she wanted to hear, that she no longer knew who to believe, who to trust. She wanted to know whether she could believe him—it was so obvious it was written all over her face, and he had no more intention of lying to her than anyone else.

      “I know so,” he told her honestly.

      The words were barely out of his mouth before she disappeared into her dressing room, and Logan turned his back when he realized the door wasn’t going to be closed. It seemed like only minutes later that she was running back out again, heading toward the stage, and instead of trying to keep up with her this time he just walked behind. She was still being plucked and prodded, her outfit pulled into shape and her hair fiddled with just before she was due back on stage. The woman with the tablet from earlier was flapping her arms at a group of dancers, before starting a countdown and sending them on as the music started again.

      Just before she disappeared, Candace turned and locked her gaze on his, smiling for barely a second before throwing one hand in the air and returning to the stage.

      There was no doubting she was a brilliant performer, but she was also like a little girl desperately in need of someone to look after her and trust in. To tell her the truth when she needed it, but also to shield her from harm.

      “I’m not that person,” Logan muttered to himself, even as his instinct to protect reared within him before he could stamp it out.

      He’d protected and looked after people all his life, and still he’d lost those he loved. Some of the people he cared most about in the world, and some strangers whose faces he’d never forget until the day he died, too. Looking after Candace while she was on stage and during her press conference tomorrow was his job, and one he intended on doing well, and tonight was about having fun with a beautiful woman. There was no need to overthink the situation or turn it into something it wasn’t.

      He wasn’t going to be the one to rescue her, because he was still waiting to be rescued himself. Tonight was going to be great, but after that he’d never see her again, which meant she wasn’t his to worry about. Or protect.

      * * *

      Candace took one last bow after her second encore song before walking from the stage. It had been the kind of night she loved, the type that made her remember how lucky she was to perform for a career, even though her nerves had jangled whenever she’d let her mind stray to the hate mail she’d been receiving. There were always those times when she wondered if that person was in the crowd, watching her, but with Logan standing in the wings and the security amped up for the evening, she’d tried to make herself just relax. And for the most part it had worked.

      Her heart was still pounding, adrenaline making her feel a million dollars, as she disappeared into the darkness of the wings, her eyes taking a moment to adjust from the bright lights she’d been performing under.

      “I think you’ve made me like country music,” a deep male voice said.

      She recognized Logan’s Australian twang the moment she heard it, and her heart started to race a little more.

      “I’d say I don’t believe you, but I kind of want to,” she said with a laugh.

      “I’m actually thinking of joining your insane fans and lining up for a CD and T-shirt. It seems to be the thing to do.”

      She laughed, brushing her hand against his as she passed and then snatching it back like she’d connected with a flame. It had been a long time since she’d just touched someone impulsively like that, and it wasn’t something she wanted to make a habit of. Especially not with a man, even if she was enjoying his company.

      “You can have a free T-shirt, I’ll even autograph it for you,” she teased.

      “So what time do you want to head out?” he asked, following her.

      Candace took a slow breath, still energized from her ninety minutes on stage. She always felt amazing at the end of a performance, exhaustion never