Bodyguard. Lori Foster

stand back and allow that to happen. Her conscience wouldn’t allow it.

      The show finally ended, the music fading with the lighting until the floor was in darkness. The applause was deafening. And seconds later, the officer was back, his leather jacket slung over his shoulder, his pants and boots in his hand. He thanked the bartender, then took Emily’s arm without any explanation, and rapidly pulled her toward an inside door. They narrowly missed the mob of advancing women.

      Emily wanted to run, but she’d never in her life resorted to such a display. Besides, now that she knew he wasn’t really a policeman, a plan was forming in her mind.

      He pulled her into a back room, shut the door, then flipped on a light switch. Emily found herself in a storage closet of sorts, lined with shelves where cleaning supplies sat and a smelly mop tainted the air. A leather satchel rested in the corner. He didn’t bother dressing. Instead, he tossed his clothes to the side and moved to stand a hairbreadth away from her.

      “You gave me a fifty.”

      Emily blinked. His words were nowhere near what she’d expected to hear. She tucked in her chin. “I beg your pardon?”

      He pulled the cash from his briefs, stacking the bills together neatly in his large hands. “You gave me a fifty-dollar bill. I hadn’t realized my show was quite that good.”

      A fifty! Oh, Lord, Emily. She had no intention of telling him it hadn’t been deliberate, that she’d been unable to pull her gaze away from him long enough to find the proper bills. What she’d given him was part of the money earmarked for buying information.

      Maybe she could still do that.

      Shrugging, she forced her eyes away from his body and stared at the dingy mop. “Since you’re not a law enforcement officer, I was hoping the money would…entice you to help me.”

      He snorted, not buying her line for a second. Emily was relieved he was gentleman enough not to say so. He gave her a look that curled her toes, then asked, “What kind of help do you need, lady?”

      It was unbelievably difficult to talk with him so near, and so nearly naked. He smelled delicious, of warm, damp male flesh, though she tried her best not to notice. But his body was too fine to ignore for long, despite her resolve not to give in to unladylike tendencies—such as overwhelming lust—ever again.

      She licked her dry lips, then met his eyes. His gaze lingered on her mouth, then slowly coasted over the rest of her body. She knew she wasn’t particularly attractive. She had pondered many disguises for this night, disguises ranging anywhere from that of a frumpy homeless lady, to a streetwalker. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine herself making a convincing hooker. She was slight of build and her body had never quite…bloomed, as she’d always hoped for. She did, however, think she made an adequate transient.

      She cleared her throat. Stiffening her spine, which already felt close to snapping, she said, “I need information.”

      “Your little trio of drunks didn’t tell you enough?”

      Since he appeared to have guessed her mission, she didn’t bother denying it. “No. They didn’t really know anything. And I had to be careful. They didn’t seem all that trustworthy. But it’s imperative I find out some facts. You…you seem well acquainted with the area?”

      She’d said it as a question, and he answered with a nod.

      “Good. I want to know of anyone who’s selling guns.”

      He closed his eyes, his mouth twisting in an ironic smirk. “Guns? Just like that, you want to know who’s dealing in guns? God, lady, you look like you could go to the nearest reputable dealer and buy any damn thing you wanted.” He took a step closer, reaching out his hand to flip a piece of her hair. “I don’t know who you thought you’d fool, but you walk like money, talk like money…hell, you even smell like money. What is it? The thrill of going slumming that has you traipsing around here dressed in that getup?”

      Emily sucked in her breath at his vulgar question and felt her temper rise. “You have fifty dollars of my money. The least you can do is behave in a civilized, polite manner.”

      “Wrong.” He stepped even closer, the dark, sweat-damp hair on his chest nearly brushing against the tip of her nose. He had to bend low to look her in the eyes, but he managed. “The least I can do is steer your fancy little tail back where you belong. Go home, little girl. Get your thrills somewhere else, somewhere where it’s safe.”

      Suffused with heat at both his nearness and his derisive attitude, it was all Emily could do to keep from cowering. She clicked her teeth together, then swallowed hard. “You don’t want to help me. Fine. I’m certain I’ll find someone else who will. After all, I’m willing to pay a thousand dollars.” Then, turning to make a grand exit, certain she’d made him sorry over losing out on so much money, she said over her shoulder, “I imagine I’ll find someone much more agreeable than you within the hour. Goodbye.”

      There was a split second of stunned silence, then an explosive curse, and Emily decided good breeding could take second place to caution. She reached for the door and almost had it open, when his large hand landed on the wood with a loud crack, slamming it shut again. His warm, hard chest pressed to her back, pinning her to the door. She could barely move; she could barely breathe.

      Then his lips touched her ear, whisper-soft, and he said, “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

      Chapter 2

      SHE FELT LIGHT-HEADED, BUT SHE SUMMONED A cool smile. He was deliberately trying to frighten her—she didn’t know how she knew that, but she was certain of it. Slowly turning in what little space he allowed her, Emily faced him, her chin held high. “Would you mind giving me a little breathing room, please?”

      “I might.”

      Might mind, or might move? Emily shook her head. “You have a rather nasty habit of looming over me, Mr….?”

      For a moment, he remained still and silent, then thankfully, he took two steps back. He looked at her as if she might not be entirely sane. Emily stuck out her hand. “I’m Emily Cooper.”

      His gaze dropped to her hand, then with a resigned look of disgust, he enfolded her small hand in his much larger one, pumping it twice before abruptly releasing her. He stared at the ceiling. “Judd Sanders.”

      “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. San—”

      “Judd will do.” He shook his head, and his gaze came back to her face. “Look, lady, you can’t just come to this part of town and start waving money around. You’ll get yourself dragged into a dark alley and mugged, possibly raped. Or worse.”

      Emily wondered what exactly could be worse than being mugged and raped in a dark alley, but she didn’t bother asking him. She felt certain he’d come up with some dire consequence to frighten her.

      He was watching her closely, and she tried to decide if it was actual concern she saw on his face. She liked to think so. Things still didn’t fit. He didn’t seem any more suited to this part of town than she did, regardless of his crude manners and bossy disposition.

      But now that he’d backed up and given her some room, she was able to think again. “I made certain to stay in front of the stores and in plain sight at all times. If mischief had started, someone surely would have offered assistance.” Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled. “You did.”

      He muttered under his breath, and pointed an accusing finger at her. “You’re a menace.”

      Glaring at him wouldn’t get her anywhere, she decided. She needed help, that much was obvious. And who better to help her than a man who evidently knew his way around this part of town, and was well acquainted with its inhabitants. She cleared her throat. “I realize I don’t entirely understand how things should be done. Although I’m familiar with the neighborhood, since I work in the soup kitchen twice a week…” She hesitated, then added, “I bought this coat from one of the ladies