Bodyguard. Lori Foster

      Emily poured his coffee, still smiling. “I thought we could talk while we eat. Maybe get to know each other a little better. I mean, we will be working together, and we’re practically strangers.”

      He glanced up at her. “I wouldn’t say that.”

      She blinked, then looked away. “How long have you been…ah…”

      “Stripping?”

      “Yes.” There was another bright blush on her cheeks. Judd wondered how she kept from catching fire.

      “A while,” he said, keeping his answer vague.

      “You…you like it?”

      Good Lord. He laid down his fork and stared at her. She was the most unpredictable woman he’d ever met. Watching her eyes, he said, “Everyone should experience stripping at least once. It’s a fantasy, but most people don’t have the guts to try it.”

      She sucked in her breath. The fork she had in front of her held a piece of sausage, ready to fall off. She looked guilty.

      Ah. He smiled, reading her thoughts. “Admit it, Emily. You’ve thought of it, haven’t you? Imagine the men, or even one man, getting hotter with every piece of clothing you remove. Imagine his eyes staring at you, imagine him wanting you so bad he can’t stand it. But you make him wait, until you’re ready, until you’re completely…naked.”

      She trembled, then put down her fork, folding her hands in her lap. Judd didn’t feel like smiling now; he felt like laying her across the table, tossing the skirt of her dress up around her shoulders and viewing all of her, naked. For him. He wanted to drive into her slim body and hear her scream his name. It angered him, the unaccountable way she could provoke his emotions, leaving him raw.

      “You want to strip for me, Emily? I’ll be a willing audience, I can promise you that.”

      “Why are you doing this?”

      Her tone was breathless, faint. With arousal or humiliation? He slashed his hand in the air, disgusted with himself. “Eat your breakfast.”

      “Judd…”

      “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m not usually such a bastard. Just forget it, all right?”

      She didn’t look as though she wanted to. Instead, she looked ready to launch into another round of questions and he couldn’t take it. He began eating, ignoring her, giving all his attention to his food.

      He waited until she’d taken a bite of her muffin, then said, “I’ve decided if I’m going to help you, I’ll need more information.”

      Emily swallowed quickly and looked at him, her eyes wide. “I told you everything.”

      “No. I need the whole truth now, Emily. How you’re involved, and why. What really happened.” He took a sip of coffee, watching her over the rim of his mug. “Who’s the kid? But most of all, what does he have to do with you?”

      Chapter 4

      EMILY KNEW HER LUCK HAD JUST RUN OUT. AND though it surprised her he’d figured her out so soon, she had expected it. Judd wasn’t an idiot, far from it. And she supposed it was his obvious intelligence and insight that made her feel so sure he would help her.

      How much to tell him was her quandary.

      Judd evidently grew impatient with her silence. “Stop trying to think up some elaborate lie. You’re no good at it, anyway. Hell, if I can tell you’re planning to lie, you’ll never be able to carry it off. So just the truth, if you please. Now.”

      Emily frowned at him. He didn’t have to sound so surly. And he didn’t have to look so…sexy. He’d shocked her but good, answering the door near-naked. Even now, with his pants on, he still looked sleep-rumpled and much too appealing. She cleared her throat and stared down at her plate.

      “All I can tell you is that someone I hold dear was injured when that gun misfired. Since I know no one else is going to do anything about it, I have to. And the only thing I can think of is to make sure that the man who sold the gun is brought to justice.”

      “Is the guy a lover?”

      Emily blinked. “Who?”

      “The man who is dear to you.”

      His sneering tone had her leaning back in surprise. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s just a boy. Only sixteen.”

      Judd shrugged. “So who is he? A relative?”

      Why wouldn’t he just let it rest? Why wouldn’t he—

      “Dammit, Emily, who is he?”

      He shocked her so badly with his sudden shout, she blurted out, “My brother!”

      “Ah. I suppose that could motivate a person. Never having had a brother myself, I wouldn’t know for certain, of course. But I can see where you’d want to protect a little brother.” Judd rubbed his whiskered jaw, then added, “Why don’t your parents just go to the police?”

      Emily stood up and walked away from the table. How had he gotten her to reveal so much, so easily? She knew she had no talent for subterfuge, but she hadn’t thought she’d crack so quickly. When she turned to face Judd again, she caught him staring at her ankles. Her silence drew his attention, and when his gaze lifted to her face, he didn’t apologize, but merely lifted a dark eyebrow.

      Trying to ignore the heat in her face, Emily folded her hands over her waist and said, “My parents hate scandal more than anything. They’d rather move to another country than have their name sullied with damaging speculation.”

      “Don’t they love their son?”

      “Well, of course they do.” Appalled that she’d given him the wrong impression, Emily took her seat again, leaning forward to get his attention. “It’s just that they’ve got some pretty stringent notions about propriety. Their reputations, and the family name, mean a lot to them.”

      “More than their son, evidently.” Then Judd shook his head. “No, Emily, don’t start defending them again. I really don’t give a damn what kind of parents you have. But it seems to me, if they’re willing to sweep the incident under the carpet, you should be, too. What can you hope to prove, anyway?”

      This was the tricky part, trying to make him understand how important it was for John to see now, before it was too late, exactly what road he was choosing. She didn’t want to see the same disdain in Judd’s eyes when she mentioned her brother as he apparently felt for her parents. Why his opinion mattered to her, she didn’t know. But it did.

      Keeping her voice low, she said, “John bought the gun, I think, because he wanted my parents’ attention. You’d have to understand how hard he tried to find his…niche. I remember last Christmas, John was crushed when my parents sent him a gift from Europe.” Her lips tilted in a vague smile. “It was a check, a substantial check, but still, it was only money. John sat in front of the stupid Christmas tree, seven feet high and professionally decorated, and he cried. I didn’t let him know I was there because I knew it would embarrass him.”

      Judd looked down at his feet. “I never had a Christmas tree until Max took me in. It was only a spindly little thing, but I liked it. It beat the hell out of seeing my father passed out drunk in the front room where the Christmas tree should have been but wasn’t.”

      “Oh, Judd.”

      “Now, don’t start, Em. We’re talking about John, remember? I only mentioned that memory because I guess I always assumed people with money had a better holiday. I mean, more gifts, better food, a lot of cheer and all that.” He shook his head. “Shoots that theory all to hell, doesn’t it?”

      “People usually think having money is wonderful, but that’s not always true. Sometimes…money spoils things. It can make people self-centered, maybe even neglectful. Because it’s so easy to do what you want,