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“You have another appointment in two hours,” the blond man said, addressing Alazandro. It was the first time he’d spoken and Elle glanced at him.
He’d put his hat back on his head. She caught him staring at Peg, eyes narrowed.
Alazandro said, “Then let’s get to it.”
Elle, momentarily caught up in the undercurrents whizzing by, finally realized Alazandro had begun walking away.
“Mr. Alazandro,” she called. “Wait—”
Without looking back, Alazandro nodded very slightly toward the blond man who turned to Elle.
She put a foot on the bottom rung of the fence to heave herself over. “But—”
A very tanned hand clamped down on the rail next to hers. She lowered her foot as she looked up. Eyes the color and depth of Lake Tahoe regarded her from beneath the brim of the battered Stetson.
“I need to talk to Mr. Alazandro,” she mumbled.
“Isn’t that what you were just doing?”
His examination made her uncomfortable and she averted her eyes. “Damn. I blew it.”
“Blew what?”
“My chance to get a job at Alazandro’s new resort. Of all the days to fall off a horse.”
The stranger seemed to reach a conclusion of sorts, as though finding a missing piece of a troubling puzzle. “So you really are after a job,” he said. “Hence the language demonstration. But why Japanese?”
“I’ve heard he gets a lot of Japanese tourists at his resorts. I thought someone working in the stable who could communicate with the visitors as well as with the local staff might come in—handy.”
“Puerta Del Sol doesn’t open for several weeks,” the stranger said. “After hurricane season.”
Door of the Sun. Such a peaceful name for a resort beside the sea. So misleading. Never mind, all Elle knew for sure was what she’d overheard Peg telling her lawyer. Alazandro was headed down to Mexico after his visit to Peg’s stables. One way or another, Elle was going, too.
“I know when it opens,” she said. “But there must be a lot of work going on beforehand, right? Trails to map and clear? Horses to feed and exercise?”
His eyebrows furrowed. “And you want to do that kind of grunt work?”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” she said.
Staring right into her eyes, he said, “Why? What’s so important to you about getting hired for the Puerta Del Sol resort?”
She hadn’t expected this question, especially coming from him. After a ten second delay, she said, “I like learning about…things.”
“So your interest lies in resort management?”
“Maybe.” Hoping to win back control of the conversation, she added, “I don’t know how to apply a mud pack, my tennis game sucks and I know zip about deep-sea fishing. My options are limited. But I do know horses.”
“I see,” he said, his upper lip lifting a hair as he looked at her. She knew what he saw. The mud, the dripping hair. The anxiety. She started to explain about Tabitha and the jump and the disgruntled horse and thought better of it. She’d already said enough.
Chancing another glance at his face, she said, “Who are you, anyway?”
“Who do you think I am?”
“I don’t know. A secretary, maybe?”
“Do I look like a secretary?”
“Do you ever just answer a question?” she snapped.
“Sometimes. Do you?”
She glared at him until she remembered that he had accompanied Alazandro and so might exert a certain amount of influence. It wouldn’t pay to push him too far.
As she tried to think of a graceful way to back down, he said, “I’m Alazandro’s bodyguard.”
“Why does Alazandro need a bodyguard?”
“He’s a wealthy man.”
“In other words, someone is trying to, what? Kidnap him? Rob him?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what?”
The bodyguard studied her face. Damn, that way he had of looking past the surface was getting on her nerves. He finally said, “He recently received a death threat.”
The blood drained from her face. If Alazandro died before she had a chance to discover the truth—
“What’s the matter?” he said, reaching out a hand to steady her.
“This death threat. Did it come from someone here in the States?” Why did she suddenly feel there was a gun pointed at her back? She had to will herself not to swivel around and look.
“Does it matter?”
Biting her lip she said, “Maybe someone is after him right now. Maybe someone has a gun trained on you. I’m standing awfully close.”
“And you don’t want to get shot by mistake?”
“No.”
“Can’t say as I blame you.”
“So, who made this death threat?”
His eyes narrowed fractionally as he rested both hands on the top rail. “There you go with the questions again.”
She blinked a couple of times. “I’m just curious. I’ve never met a real bodyguard before.”
He didn’t reply and she felt herself squirming under his watchful gaze. “I thought bodyguards wore dark suits and sunglasses and those little ear pieces,” she mumbled.
“You’re thinking of the guys on television.”
“So you’ve been hired to protect him.”
“That’s what a bodyguard does.”
“With your life?”
He half smiled. “He’s not the president of the United States.”
“So, not with your life.”
He stared at her without responding.
“So what does being Víctor Alazandro’s bodyguard entail? Are you with him night and day? Do you taste his food before he does?”
The corners of his mouth twitched. “Something like that.”
“Do you have a name or do you just go by the designation bodyguard?”
“And yet more questions.”
“Is your name a secret?”
The smiled toyed with his lips again. “You can call me Pete.”
As talking with him was about as gratifying as talking to a brick wall, she changed tactics. Lowering her voice, moving a step closer to the rail, fluttering her eyelashes, she added, “I need to talk to Alazandro about a job before he leaves here today, Pete. Will you help me?”
“You don’t need my help,” he said, backing away from her as though just remembering his duties lay elsewhere.
“Yes, I do,” she said, climbing up on the fence. “Please, wait—”
“You don’t need me to put in a good word for you,” he insisted. His gaze traveled down her chest and back again, a smile lingering on his lips. “You had him with the wet T-shirt,” he said. “You didn’t need the Japanese, though it was a nice touch.”
The fact that she’d apparently broken into Alazandro’s inner sanctum coupled with Pete’s quick but thorough perusal shattered what little there was left of Elle’s aplomb. She almost fell off the top of the fence. Finally finding a perch, she blurted out, “Then I have a job?”
“You still want a job?”
“Of course.”
“I thought you were afraid of getting shot.”
“No,” she said. “Yes. I mean, I don’t want to get shot, of course, but I do want to travel to Mexico, I do want to see Puerta Del Sol.”
“And there’s no other way for you to afford such an experience, right?”
Why was he toying with her? Was he flirting? Was he suspicious? Of what? She hadn’t done anything wrong except fall in a glorified puddle and act like a floozy. Yet. She mumbled, “As a guest? At a thousand dollars a day? I don’t think so.”
“You have to get by me first,” Pete said.
“By you? I don’t understand—”
“Me and the security boys. Background search,” he added and, tipping his hat, turned on his heels and strode off toward the stable his employer had disappeared into minutes before.
Background search? Her mind raced as she studied Pete’s retreat, the way he looked in jeans and his long-legged stride both as troubling as the slight bulge above his waistband that pooched out the back of his vest. She knew what a bodyguard would carry in such a spot.
Damn. He was armed.
Of course he’s armed, you dummy, he’s a blasted bodyguard! And before that he was probably in the military or a cop or something.
The trick would be to stay off his radar, that’s all. If she played her cards right, she’d never fall under his watchful gaze again.
Until it was too late.
No, don’t think too far ahead….
She shoved trembling hands in her pockets. Now that Pete was gone, the enormity of her success hit full force. She slid to the ground and leaned against the fence, fighting to get her heartbeat back to normal.
She told herself the background search would come up empty. She’d appear to be exactly what she was, a twenty-five-year old college graduate who had loved horses her whole life, a woman taking a break before finishing graduate school.
Just an ordinary woman. No one knew her motives.
Except her grandfather, and they’d made a pact.
More worrisome than the background search was news of a death threat. A frown tugged at the corners of her mouth as she pushed herself away from the fence.
Someone else was out to get Alazandro.
She’d have to work fast.
Chapter Two
Pete Walker, a.k.a. Pete Waters, turned at the stable entrance and looked back over his shoulder in time to catch Elle Medina push herself away from the fence and take off toward the barn on the far side of the corral.
Funny that she’d stood there a while.
He entered the stable, pausing for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the dim light. Alazandro and Peg Stiles had made it halfway down the walkway. All along the corridor, horses looked out of their stalls as though curious about the visitors. A palomino close to him whinnied as it tossed its head. The horse reminded him of Elle Medina. Same fair coloring, same liquid brown eyes.
This job was complicated enough without some sexy little bombshell getting in the way.
Did she have any idea what Alazandro really wanted with her? The mud hadn’t distracted a bit from her looks. Hard to tell about her hair, but she sported a curvy figure that looked great in skintight wet clothes and a face pretty enough to pay her bills. And she was young. Alazandro appreciated nubile young women with flawless skin and tight little bodies, women burning with the desire to please.
Judging from her behavior, Elle Medina knew what Alazandro had in mind and welcomed it. Some women were like that, turned on by power and money and he guessed she was one of them.
What did it matter to him? If she passed a routine background check, what she and Alazandro proceeded to do or not do was none of his business.
He had bigger fish to fry.
