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“Later.” She met his gaze. “Due to your discourse, my sixty-minute bath has been reduced to fifteen.” She stepped closer to him. “I’m still not convinced you’re staying. But just in case you are, you’ve given me all your rules and regulations. Now here’s one of mine, Mr. Jackson. Don’t mess with my bath.”
With that, Ridge was treated to the sight of Dara’s shapely derriere just before she walked into her bedroom and firmly shut the door.
“I don’t like him,” Dara said to her godfather, Harrison Montgomery, as she soaked in the tub.
Harrison’s muffled laughter carried through the phone wire. “I don’t believe you. You like everybody.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard.” Dara deepened her voice and imitated a well-known senator. “You know it, I know it, and the American people know it.”
Harrison laughed again shortly, then grew quiet. “I want you to humor me on this. You know how Helen and I feel about you. You’re the daughter we never had. If anything happened to you while you’re campaigning for me, I’d never forgive myself.”
Hearing the sincere concern in his voice, Dara sighed. She’d spent so much time reassuring everyone else about the incident that she hadn’t dealt with her own feelings. She had been frightened, but heaven forbid that she should tell anyone else that. “It was just a few stitches.”
“And this is just for four weeks,” he countered. “You can handle anything for four weeks. Then you can take off for some sunny island and forget about politics and bodyguards.”
Dara felt the gentle persuasive pressure in his voice and she knew she was stuck with a bodyguard. “Does it have to be him?”
“Has he been rude?” Harrison’s tone immediately cooled.
Dara rolled her eyes at the ceiling. “No, but, couldn’t you have gotten someone more…” She groped for an adequate description and found all her choices were ridiculous. “Maybe I mean less…”
“Less what?”
Less confident? Less domineering? Less sexy?
Dara kicked at her dissolving bubbles in frustration. “Someone more like Clarence?”
Harrison chuckled. “Clarence wouldn’t hurt a flea. You’ve got the best man for the job. I checked around, and Sterling Security’s reputation is formidable. I spoke to the head of the agency and told him to send his best bodyguard.”
Subject closed. Dara heard the door shut on the subject. As she and Harrison concluded their conversation with a few pleasantries, she felt the ominous knowledge down to her bones.
She was stuck with Ridge.
Ridge watched Dara step through the door and felt her blue-eyed gaze immediately latch onto his. Grudging acceptance, but no surrender, her face said. She wasn’t exactly what he’d expected. Underneath all that demure, sweet charm was a kick that would likely land another man on his butt.
The scent and sight of her bombarded his senses. Ridge felt like he was under full frontal assault. Her dark hair was piled loosely on her head, with her fringe of bangs and tendrils framing her face. She smelted like a dark, secret passion and looked like trouble waiting to happen. Her black cocktail dress faithfully and devotedly followed every curve of her body with the same fervor a Boy Scout made a promise.
Ridge, however, had never been a Boy Scout.
Her gaze swept over him as if she were checking his appearance. The moment lasted just a shade too long for his pride, so he called her on it. “Everything look okay? Or do you need a closer look?”
Her lashes lowered, momentarily hiding her eyes from him. “My vision is just fine from here. I’m sure you’ve had more than enough women tell you that you look better than fine.” She glanced up then. “But that’s not the issue, is it? I talked to Harrison, and he insists you’re the best.”
Ridge felt a strange twinge at Montgomery’s acknowledgment of his abilities.
When he remained silent, she sighed. “He also insists that you remain my bodyguard.”
“If you hate the idea of having a bodyguard so much, why don’t you remove the risk and stop campaigning?”
Dara shook her head. “That’s not an option. I owe Harrison. I’m not sure it’s the kind of debt that can ever be paid in full, but I can help him now, in this role.” She shrugged. “Besides, I believe in him. If ever a man was born and bred to be president, it’s Harrison Montgomery.”
At her words, a deep resentment burned in his gut. He knew Montgomery had been raised in a privileged home by two supportive parents, had attended the best schools, and married a wife with a pedigree. On the other hand, Ridge had been raised in near poverty by a drug-addicted single mother and he had barely graduated from public high school. With the help of the United States Marine Corps, however, he’d worked past his anger and made something of himself. Dara’s blind admiration brought every cynical instinct to the surface. “I suppose you agree with all his views.”
Dara paused and looked at him curiously. “No. I wouldn’t say I agree with all his views. But I do think he’ll make a great leader for our country. My opinion may be partly influenced by my personal experience with him. Harrison has been a stable, supportive force in my life since I was born.” Something dark and painful flickered in her eyes, and her voice softened. “Sometimes, he was the only stable, supportive person.”
He wondered at the source of the pain in her gaze, but she cleared her throat and smiled self-consciously. “That’s another story, though. One you’re probably not interested in, so—”
“Don’t bank on it,” Ridge interjected.
“Bank on what?”
“Don’t assume that I’m not interested in hearing anything about you.”
Dara felt the strangest clutch of excitement in her chest. His direct gaze left her floundering. “I, uh, I—” She cursed her stammering tongue. Heaven help her, she’d been coached by one of the best media specialists in the country to deliver a stutter-free speech. Why was she fumbling now?
“Knowing you is part of my job, and as Montgomery told you, I do my job very well.”
Dara blinked. He wasn’t interested in her personally, she realized. He was only interested in her professionally. Humiliation flooded her chest. Anger followed soon after. Why should she care what Ridge Jackson thought of her? He was just an overgrown baby-sitter.
She took a deep breath to calm herself. “I’m sure you’ve been given all the information you need to do your job.” She fought the edge she felt creeping into her voice. “We really need to be leaving for the dinner with the Chamber of Commerce. I’ve already phoned my escort—” Unable to recall the man’s name, she frowned and reached for her calendar in her purse. “Tom,” she said finally, feeling Ridge’s eyes on her and wondering why he made her feel more nervous than when she stood in front of a crowd of thousands. “Tom Andrews. I told him we’d pick him up on the way. Is that okay?”
“Fine. Do you need your coat?”
“Yes.” She reached for the blue wool cape, but Ridge put it around her shoulders.
“You know you’re safe with me, don’t you, Dara?”
“Of course,” she murmured, but something about his velvet-and-steel voice didn’t make her feel the least bit safe.
Ridge watched the crowd, not Dara. That was his job, after all. Still, he was aware of her every move. While he watched the exits, he heard her give Harrison Montgomery a glowing recommendation. His gaze moving constantly over the crowd, he wondered how she had managed to rouse the conservative group to wild applause after her brief speech. If she was Montgomery’s secret weapon, then she was more effective than the Pied Piper. He could just hear the sounds of levers being pulled on the voting machines, all for Montgomery.
It was enough to make him puke.
Ridge kept his seething temper to himself, as he had for fourteen years. The perfect moment would come, he knew it in his bones, when he could take his vengeance against Montgomery. This consuming grudge Ridge held against the presidential candidate had the potential to destroy him, and the time had come to do something about it.
He had a plan to settle the score. The first step was gaining Montgomery’s trust. If Ridge had wanted to exact his revenge from a distance he could have called one of the rag magazines and spilled his story, but it wasn’t enough just to ruin him. He wanted Montgomery to hurt, to feel a fraction of the betrayal Ridge had felt when he watched his mother die. Maybe then, he could rid himself of the anger that had burned inside him for so long. Maybe then, he could find peace.
Mindful of the woman who would unknowingly help him accomplish his goal, Ridge looked at Dara and saw her check her watch. When she thought no one was looking, she squeezed the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. Opening them, she glanced in his direction and nodded. That was the prearranged signal for them to leave. Ridge motioned the chauffeur to collect the limo while Dara said her goodbyes.
“It’s been lovely,” she said to the mayor. “I appreciate your including me tonight, and I’ll be sure to pass on your good wishes to Harrison.”
Her escort stood beside her. “Let me walk you to the car. Are you sure you don’t want to go out for a drink? There’s a nice lounge just around the corner.” He placed his hand at her back. “Or if you want to get away from the crowd, we-could go to my place.”
Dara shook her head and smiled, flashing her dimple. “I’d love to, but it’s been a long day. Maybe—”
Tom Andrews turned on the charm. “Aw, come on, just one little drink. I get introduced to a beautiful woman only to have to tell her goodbye three hours later.”
Walking behind the couple, Ridge decided he couldn’t fault the guy for his persistence. He could fault him for other reasons, though. Ridge would bet that Dara’s date was hoping to use her to pump up his own political prospects. Andrews was running for the state senate.
Dara pulled slightly away and folded her hands. “I’ve enjoyed meeting you, too,” Ridge heard her say. “But my schedule is just crazy for the next four weeks. Maybe after the election,” she said vaguely.
“Thirty minutes, just thirty minutes so we can get to know each other better,” Tom said in a voice Ridge thought was ten percent desperation, twenty percent seduction, and seventy percent slime.
Either Tom was being deliberately obtuse, or he had the sensitivity of an alligator. Ridge withheld a sigh. There was no way he’d let Dara alone with that guy. They still hadn’t worked out a password. He stepped forward and pointed toward the front door. “The limo’s here, Dara. Remember, you have an early start tomorrow.”
Dara glanced at Ridge in confusion. “Actually, I was planning to sleep—”
“And the doctor said to make sure you got your rest,” he interrupted. “I’m sure you understand,” he said to Tom as he ushered her toward the car.
“You’ve got my card,” Tom called to Dara. “Give me a call.”
“Thank you again, Tom.” She shot Ridge a look of disapproval as he tried to stuff her into the limo. “Will you wait one minute? I don’t want to be rude.”
“It’s part of my job to cut down on your exposure time,” Ridge explained. “We’re on a public street.”
Dara rolled her eyes and slid into the car. When Ridge started to close her door, she shook her head and crooked her finger. “I believe we need to talk.”
As soon as he joined her, she turned to him. “Don’t do that again. I won’t have you acting like some overgrown nanny. I had no intention of extending the evening with Tom, but you have no rights over my private life.”
“It’s my job to protect you no matter who you’re with,” Ridge corrected, and could see she was gearing up for a fight.
“And what if I want to go out for a date? Just where do you draw the line, Ridge? Is it part of your job to come into my bedroom, too?”
He narrowed his eyes at that last remark. At another time, in another life, he corrected himself, her insinuation might have prompted a full range of responses, some more satisfying than others. If he were in Dara Seabrook’s bedroom, he sure as hell wouldn’t just be watching her. Ridge ruthlessly stuck to the facts. “According to your file, since you’ve been campaigning, you haven’t begun a romantic relationship or brought a man back to your room to stay the night. Your file—”
Dara’s indignant gasp was more effective than a scream. “My file!” Even in the dim light of the limo, he could see the color in her cheeks deepen. “Who in hell gave you that kind of private information about me? Who—”
“It’s standard procedure.” Ridge kept his voice neutral, recalling that the file had also said Dara cursed only when extremely upset. “The information is gathered so I don’t walk in cold wondering what your habits are.” She looked like she wanted to hit him, and Ridge couldn’t decide if he was irritated or amused. “If you want to see it, I’ll show it to you.”
“You’re damn right I want to see it, but that’s just the beginning.” Her gaze met his, and Ridge felt the punch of her feminine determination clear down to his bones. “If I’ve got to be with you day-in and day-out for the next four weeks, I want to see your file, too.”
Two (#ulink_36077fdb-c462-53eb-87be-8bdf6d5ffc76)
For a second, Dara wondered if she’d gone too far. The little sensation unfurling in her stomach told her she had.
Ridge stared at her with both masculine challenge and pity for her heated demands. Leaning back in the seat opposite her, he unbuttoned his suit jacket so that it slid back to reveal the stark contrast of his black leather holster and gun against his white shirt. It was enough of a mix of civilized and uncivilized to make her uneasy. His dark trousers stretched taut against muscular thighs spread wide in a typically male pose that somehow made her think of him in anything but a typical way.
“Tell me what you want to know,” he said in that velvet-and-steel voice she was becoming more and more familiar with.
She could imagine him using that same tone with a lover. Only then he would say, “Tell me what you want, baby.” Her stomach tightened.
Dara scolded herself for her outrageous thoughts. Playing with a man like Ridge would just get a woman like her burned. If she were prudent, she’d say forget it and fold her hand of cards with this little skirmish. More than her feminine pride, however, was on the line. She sensed that any shred of autonomy she could maintain during the next four weeks hung in the balance. Pushing back fear and another more vague emotion, Dara straightened in her seat. “Age,” she said crisply.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Thirty.”
“How long were you in the service?”
“How do you know I was in the service?”
She shrugged, gaining back her equilibrium. “Your manner, the way you walk.” She glanced at his feet then back to his face and smiled slightly. “Your well-shined shoes.”
“Ten years, a marine.”
She nodded. “I guess that means you’ve been a bodyguard for—”
“Two years as a civilian. I worked on special assignment in that capacity for four years when I was a marine.”
Dara hesitated only a second. Her natural impulse was to respect another person’s privacy. “Family?”
His gaze turned cool. “None. My mother and grandparents are dead.”
No wife. No mother. No children. No business of hers. “You don’t like answering questions about yourself, do you?”
“I’ve learned that you have to reach a meeting of the minds with your clients. It makes the job work more smoothly.” He glanced away. “Most clients aren’t interested in me, though. They just want me to do my job.”
Dara pictured Ridge’s usual client—a businessman, perhaps a rock musician, someone from a foreign country. They probably all treated him like he was part of the woodwork. She laughed at the ridiculous notion.
He looked at her curiously.
“I guess I’m not like most of your clients, am I?”
His gaze skimmed over her. “No.”
Lord, he was stingy with his answers. She sighed. “What else do you know about me?”
He cocked his head to one side.’ “The regular stats. You graduated with a Liberal Arts degree three years ago and went to work for Montgomery. I’ve been briefed on your close contacts and some of your habits—you don’t last much past midnight if you’ve gone full-speed all day. You’re not usually demanding, but you prefer to feel like you have some say over your situation. I’ll have to agree with that one,” he said, his voice dry.
“And if you were in this situation, would you be any different?”
“No,” he admitted, but he looked as if he would like to argue the point. He loosened his tie. “The file said you have a lot of friends, but you’ve put those relationships on the back burner because of the election. You stay in touch with your mother. You’ve been out with a dozen men in the last several months on outings while you campaign for your godfather, and you’ve politely turned them all down when they asked for another date.”
“And you really wonder why?” she asked. Thus far, Ridge had been incredibly perceptive. She was surprised he hadn’t figured out her reasons on his own.
Ridge shrugged. “The only lethal thing about that guy tonight was his line.”
Dara laughed and shook her head. “Oh, I don’t think so.”
“Right,” he said, his voice full of skepticism.
“I get this all the time. I’m given an escort to most of these functions. It’s part of the job, but these men are all the same. They all want the same thing—and it’s not my heart, not my soul. Or my body.”
Ridge’s gaze flicked over her, lingering on her legs, as if he seriously doubted that last statement.
Dara smoothed her hand over the hem of her dress. “They all want a closer connection with Harrison, and they’re hoping they can get it through me.”
Understanding flickered across his face. “And you want?”
Dara hesitated, wondering how the conversation had meandered back to such a personal topic. “Wasn’t that in my file?”
