“I have a question for you, but I don’t want to ask it in front of him,” Kiara says quietly from across the table.

I’m sure James can hear her since he’s just a table away from ours, but he doesn’t bother acknowledging it.

“When are you going to be free?” she asks pointedly, though her eyes are hidden behind a pair of shades.

I’m wearing a pair too, just in case.

I didn’t worry about getting recognized at first, but once it happened the first time, I started thinking about how to hide a bit if I didn’t want to be bothered.

I’m not some huge movie star or anything, so most people won’t recognize me if I wear my hair differently, rock some shades.

I have a feeling Kiara’s going to blow up way bigger, though, and she’ll need more than some eyewear to mask her identity.

“Um... probably this evening,” I tell her. “It’s not like he’s sleeping over or anything.”

“I’m sure he’d like to,” she grumbles.

I catch James’s brief glance at her, but she misses it or deliberately avoids it as she takes a bite of her shrimp pasta.

I’d sure as hell like him to stay the night, I find myself thinking, then suppress a frustrated groan.

What the hell’s happening to me?

I wasn’t some horndog before the celibate thing, and I’ve been doing just fine with it...more than fine—I was considering going a whole year without ‘relations.’ That is, until I heard James’s deep voice on the phone, asking me how I’d been.

I don’t understand what’s going on lately; I didn’t think of him like this while I was with Leonard.

There was a spark of something one time at a wedding, but that’s just because Leonard left me alone to dance with one of the bridesmaids, and James kindly slid in to distract me from the abandonment. He smelled really good and the music was slow and romantic, so it was a moment highly influenced by external factors.

I think that’s what’s happening now—scary circumstances are making me feel off-kilter and alone, and James has swooped in as a protector, so things are momentarily scrambled and confused.

Just like before, James showed up at an emotionally vulnerable moment, and I’m feeling so grateful to him, I’m willing to let him take a dip, especially since—now that I can assess him properly without guilt—he’s kind of hot. No, definitely hot.

His face is pretty damned chiseled and his body is strong and muscular in a functional way.

This guy is deadly, part of America’s finest. The elite.

Basically, I can definitely do a lot worse.

* * *

“Come with me to the bathroom?” Kiara says, and I immediately know it’s her way of getting me away from James.

I let him know where we’re headed and Kiara and I take off.

“That guy’s in love with you,” Kiara says confidently once we’re inside.

I make a false sound of derision, some part of me acknowledging that it’s not as ridiculous as it sounds.

“What makes you say that?”

“The way he looks at you. He didn’t do it a whole lot because looking at you probably means the rest of the world drops away and he’ll miss signs of danger.”

One thing about Kiara, she’s blunt. But she’s also pretty perceptive. Her observations about stuff and people tend to be spot on.

“He’s got it so bad, I’d started wondering if he was the one behind the messages—the obsessed freak in the flesh.”

“Boy, I don’t know how you got all of that from a guy just doing his job. He’s supposed to keep his eyes on me in a way, and I know he comes off as pretty intense—his job made him that way. If it seems he’s a little more...into me than the usual bodyguard, it’s ‘cause we’ve known each other for years. He’s one of my ex’s close friends; he hung out with us a lot.”

Kiara sort of laughs. “That explains it. He probably fell in love with you during that time. No wonder he ‘volunteered’ to help you so quickly. You said he gave you a steep discount—how steep?”

I feel sort of guilty, almost like I’ve been caught in a lie. I almost don’t want to tell her the details—they’ll just confirm her theory.

“A reduced lump sum,” I say flatly.

She gives me a look but lets me get away with being vague.

“Well, I’m not sure if he’s obsessed or anything, but he definitely has eyes for you. How do you feel about him?”

“I...well, we get along really well. We were like friends back in the day; our personalities just meshed. We could talk about almost anything—anything outside of my relationship with Leonard, of course.”

“I see. So you like him too?”

“No!” I say quickly. “Not like that. I mean, he’s obviously good-looking, but with our past—and present—circumstances, it’s obviously not a good idea to go in that direction...”

Kiara bubbles into laughter, halting my babbling.

“Sounds like you’ve got it bad yourself. Don’t bother denying it—you better at least acknowledge what’s happening so you can keep your eyes open better. The things that trip us up are usually right under our noses.”

Kiara and I head back to our table after a quick assessment of teeth and hair.

* * *

“What do you do for the rest of the day?” James asks once he and I return to my apartment.

“Maybe shoot another video, read, research, work on my website, plan another week of content, explore opportunities to branch out, etc. Do you plan to be here with me throughout the day while I do all the boring stuff?”

“If you want me to be. Are you sure you just want me for your outside errands? Or do you want protection day and night?”

“Probably just during the day when I leave the building. I mean, when would you sleep?”

“I’d bring on a trusted party for the second shift because no, I can’t do my job properly with zero sleep. In the meantime, I don’t have to hang out here during your day—I’ll just wait in my car. ”

He gives me a departing nod and is gone before I can reconsider.

* * *

“I’ve been looking forward to this part,” James says when he reenters my apartment a few hours later.

I wonder what he did in his car?

I felt kind of bad for kicking him out to wait downstairs, but part of this glorious life of mine is having my own space. I like operating without someone nearby, possibly looking over my shoulder.

“What are you talking about?” I ask, watching him place his hand on his flat belly.

“Dinner!” he says joyfully. “What’s the plan?”

“Oh!” Why the heck did my mind go to the gutter instead of the most logical explanation?

“Well, I’ve been thinking about trying jerk chicken. But I didn’t expect company today, so you don’t have to suffer my experimentation...”

“I’d love to be your guinea pig! I can even film you making it—you can stockpile the footage.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea. I suppose it’s nice to mix it up and have shaky footage instead of the stability provided by a tripod once in a while...”

“Ha. ha. I can get you at different angles. Close up, sideways... Can your tripod do that? This’ll probably be your most popular video. The most... dynamic.”

“Not sure if I should be insulted.”

“Definitely not. Once you’re in the shot, it’s dynamic. Your popularity is all about you—that’s what people tune in to see. Not the lipstick or the salad, but you applying it, making it.”

His voice softened a little, and I’m not sure how to interpret it. He seems sincere, but it’s more than that—it’s almost like adoration.

Probably just my imagination again.

“Okay, so jerk chicken and potatoes and maybe some kind of salad it is. I’ve got all the ingredients, and I’ll lay ‘em out for the first shot. I’ll shoot that one, and then I’ll go over with you how to use the camera. We’ll see what happens. If I can use the footage, great. If not, no big deal; I can always shoot it again later. I don’t mind eating the same meal twice.”

* * *

“That was amazing,” James says as he puts his fork down and leans back a little in his seat.

“You’re just saying that,” I say automatically, but his plate is practically licked clean.

Plus, I watched him closely as we ate, and he really seemed delighted by it, his usual cold blue eyes lit up in an almost boyish way.

If I say so myself, the meal was actually super delicious; it turned out better than I’d hoped.

Plus, I had way too much fun arranging our plates and presenting his dinner to him.

“You know I’m not blowing smoke up your ass; I’d tell you if it could use some work. I’m not letting you get away with a steep discount and bland food. You will make this thing worth my time, woman.”

I laugh.

Shooting the video with him was way too much fun, and as we shot the breeze while we ate, it reminded me how much we enjoyed each other’s company before. Everything feels natural and easy and warm—a stark contrast to going about the day outdoors.

I know he was being vigilant while on duty, and I appreciate it, but I almost wish I could hire someone else so James and I could just hang out instead.

I have this desire to do things with him, not with him watching me do them.

I take the plates and silverware away and prepare them for the dishwasher.

“So how do you feel?” he says, making me freeze. “Have you changed your mind about extended protection? I’m happy to stay over and sleep on the couch if it’ll make you feel better.”

I kind of forgot about the potential danger at lunch; his presence worked wonders.

I was able to relax and have fun with Kiara, monitoring myself only for the content of our conversation but not thinking about someone lurking somewhere with binoculars watching us.

And the whole time James has been here this evening, I haven’t thought about the creepy messages once.

His presence has been a tremendous relief; I feel incredibly safe when he’s near.

But there’s a different danger when it comes to him.

The thought of him in my space during the night freaks me out—way more than some internet message. I’m not sure I’d sleep like a baby.

“I should be fine with the locks, right? Someone would have to get a ladder to come through the windows…”

“Which wouldn’t be hard to do.”

“I’ll be fine,” I insist. “I was thinking about it, and J was probably bluffing. My favorite color is blue and I’ve put that out there, so it was probably just a good guess. I might’ve even mentioned something about going shopping somewhere…”

I’m pretty sure I didn’t, but part of me is panicking at the thought of James staying here overnight.

“I’ll lock up properly after you; I doubt someone plans to crash through my door in the dead of night. I honestly think this is a mental game; someone’s enjoying messing with me. And if they were watching today, no doubt they noticed you, so they probably got scared off a bit.”

“So you’re saying my job here is done?”

“For now. But see you for lunch tomorrow?”

“Keep your phone near you at all times. Call me the minute you feel scared or threatened; I’ll be here in no time.”

“K,” I say, giving him a bright smile as I move to walk him to the door.

He takes the cue, and as I unlock the locks, I say, “ I really enjoyed hanging out with you today. Didn’t realize how much I’d missed it.”

“Me too,” he replies, his eyes now particularly intense.

Normally, it’s as if he doesn’t blink—his eyes can look pretty cold and detached, making him look like a psycho. But right now, they’re unblinking but alive in a way I can’t put my finger on. Definitely not cold; in fact, quite the opposite.

I feel compelled to throw my arms around him and hug him, quietly mumbling a “Thanks” as gratefulness fills me.

It takes a moment, but his muscular arms close around me and we lock in the embrace for a second longer than we should, so I move to pull away.

His arms don’t budge, however, and I’m trapped against him for a few seconds more while his cock grows against me.

I’m starting to panic a bit—once more, my body is responding in a way it shouldn’t, my core getting slick, my heart pounding my chest.

He grips me tighter, his erection undeniable.

My flight or flight instinct kicks in and I struggle a bit, but I’m locked tight against his muscles.

Suddenly, his lips touch my forehead, then he finally pulls away, his expression even more alarming.

I take a step back, and it seems to work to halt whatever was starting to build dangerously.

“Good night, Angel,” James says, his voice deep and husky, thick with warning and promise.

I swallow before managing a “Good night” in return, starkly reminded what a dangerous line I’m walking.

This isn’t just any man—it’s a man who might have feelings for me. A man who has the capability of seducing me past all my logical protests since I might have feelings for him.

A man more dangerous to me right now than anything else I’ve encountered lately.

* * *

I stare at the message, my heart beating too fast, my body suddenly feeling too heavy for me to move.

When I finally manage to, I dial James immediately and let him know.

“That’s it,” he says, “either I’m moving in there or you move in here. Latter preferred. Either way, I’m not leaving your side.”