Chapter 3
Bridget
It felt nice to have a bodyguard, but I was still on the lookout. I felt safer in my home than I did anywhere else because I knew where all the windows and doors were. Cars felt vulnerable because you could shoot out their windows or tires, and other buildings, like my agent’s office, had an untold number of windows and doors. Anyone could shimmy up the building or repel from the roof or climb through the ducts and jump down onto her desk.
I’d watched too many movies for my own good.
My driver took us to the meeting, and Mr. Jeffries was sitting right beside me. He was a walking hulk of granite, easily three times my size, and I felt oddly safe, as well as heavily vulnerable, around him. He was easy enough to talk to, like I figured out this morning, but he was also all business.
Which meant very little play.
“That’s so boring,” I said to myself.
“Hm?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I said. “Just thinking through some things.”
Shit, I can’t believe I’d said that out loud. I needed to focus my mind towards the meeting with my agent today. Apparently, she had some new roles for me she wanted me to look over, and I was hoping I could take one or two of them and completely toss out the script I’d been given. It was a terrible script, with multiple spelling errors tossed off as accents, and I didn’t want to get within ten miles of that thing, much less step onto a set with it.
“Calm down, Miss Meyers. It’s just a car ride.”
I hadn’t realized how much I’d been jiggling my legs. I was probably rocking the car on its own tires with how fast they had been moving.
“Sorry,” I said. “My agent just likes to be very cryptic on the phone. I’ve got no idea what I’m walking into.”
“Then I’ll walk in first,” he said.
“Not like that,” I said, giggling. He really was all work and no play, and I figured I could at least have a bit of fun with this entire situation while he was around.
“I could just take your gun and walk in first, I guess,” I said.
“I’m the only one licensed to handle my gun.”
“But you said all I needed to do was ask you for something and I’d get it, right?” I asked.
“Yes, but that doesn’t extend to my firearm,” he said.
“So, I can’t handle your gun?”
“Not a chance.”
“Such a shame,” I said. “When you flashed it, it looked like a really nice gun. Most men don’t have guns like that.”
I could see his face reddening, and I smiled with pride. He was going to be a fun one, and I was going to take a great deal of pride in messing with him whenever I could. I felt the driver slowly pull to a stop before the car lurched itself into park. I stared up at the massive building before my leg started jiggling again.
“Miss Meyers, take a deep breath. I’ll get out before you do, and then I’ll walk behind you into the building. If anyone tries to come at you from behind, they’ll have to get through me, and I’ll have eyes on everything else around you.”
That sounded really good, but I was still worried about getting out of the car. I couldn’t help it. My nerves were absolutely shot. But when Mr. Jeffries threw the door open and got out, I realized I had no choice.
He dipped his hand down to help me from the car like a gentleman, and all at once, the paparazzi descended upon me. Clicks and flashes of cameras came at me from every direction, and questions ranging from “who’s this?” and “what’s the bodyguard for?” came raining down upon me. Mr. Jeffries shoved them out of the way like a pro before he held the office door open for me, and when we started for the elevators and got around the corner, I slumped myself against the wall.
It would be so easy for someone to hide in a crowd of paparazzi and shoot me with a gun that looked like a camera.
“Are you all right, Miss Meyers?” he asked.
“Just seen way too many movies,” I said.
“Seems like a fair statement, given your profession.”
“Do you always sound this professional?” I asked.
“Did I sound this professional this morning?”
He had a point, and I was about to question him on it, but the elevator door opened and a young man ushered us in.
“Miss Smith sent me down,” he said. “Come, come. She’s waiting.”
We rode the elevator up to her floor, and the entire time, Mr. Jeffries was standing in front of me. His arms were clasped around the front of his body, and his shoulders were rolled back. While standing behind him, I noticed just how massive this man was. His shoulders were broad, and they tapered down into a thick waist, no doubt because of the muscle he housed underneath his clothes. His legs were swollen with muscles I feared he’d have to use eventually. He looked strong, he looked intimidating, and there was something about him that coursed electricity through my veins.
He’s just your bodyguard, Bridget.
We stepped out of the elevator and walked down the hallway, and Linda poked her head out before we even got there. I could see the frustration in her face with us being late, but in our defense, we did pull up right at one o’clock.
It was just my hesitation that made us late.
“Get in here before I have to cancel altogether,” she said.
Mr. Jeffries stepped in before me, and I knew enough to shut the door behind me. Linda tossed three scripts onto the table and ushered me to sit down. My stomach dropped when I realized I’d have to read through all these while sitting here with her.
“Am I supposed to be choosing one?” I asked.
“Nope, you’re supposed to be filming all of them. They all want you, and they all film within the span of six months.”
“Are you serious?” I asked.
“I don’t play around with this shit. And it took me a very long time to secure the Spielberg one, so I expect a bit of applause.”
Linda was incredibly abrasive sometimes, but she always landed me the best roles. I had her to thank for my fame and stardom because of her ability to sweet talk me onto sets, so I always ignored her attitude whenever we met up.
But I could tell her attitude was grating on my bodyguard.
Linda didn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just didn’t care. “One is action with a love story, one is a crime drama with no love story, and one is some bullshit, alternate dimension movie that they want to make into a series if the first one goes well. I told them so long as they had you in it, they’d have as many movies as they want.”
“Peppering me in for more movies in the future,” I said. “I knew there was a reason I kept you around.”
“You keep me around because I’m damn good at what I do,” she said.
“And you’ll never hear me deny it.”
I saw her eyeing my bodyguard while I looked at the scripts, but when we went to finalize, she ripped her gaze from him. I could tell she was analyzing him, trying to figure out whether or not he knew what she knew. I wanted to know her opinion on him, but we didn’t have the time, and I signed the three contracts that she’d distribute to the casting directors before she stuck the scripts in a locked briefcase she handcuffed to my wrist.
“Seriously?” I asked.
“Directors are weird. Here’s the key. I’m gonna give it to Hulk over here, and he can uncuff you when you get home and in a safe space.”
She dropped the key into his hand, and he placed it in his pocket. Then, we were off. The young assistant escorted us back down to the main floor and even helped us get through the pack of paparazzi to get to my car. I was definitely feeling safer with him by the second, but my stomach began to growl the moment my ass hit the seat.
“You up for a little lunch, Mr. Jeffries?” I asked.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Pick something.”
“I don’t know what you want, so it’s hard to pick something you might like,” he said.
“Well, the lunch is for both of us, so pick and I’ll find something on the menu to eat,” she said. “I’m not feeling very healthy today so that widens my food choices.”
“I didn’t realize we’d go on a date so quickly, Miss Meyers,” he said. “I’m a bit shocked, honestly. I’m not usually the kind of guy that moves this quickly.”
“Well, you’ve already got me handcuffed with the key in your pocket,” I said. “You might as well take me to get food.”
It was nice to see his sense of humor coming through because it meant my message hit home earlier. Business and professional had their place and times, but not in my home and not when he was around just me. I didn’t want him to be uptight all the damn time because it would wind my nerves up, but I got the sneaking suspicion he realized that with my leg jiggling earlier.
“What about that place downtown that serves those awesome salads?” he asked. “They have this weird corndog salad that’s oddly good.”
“A corndog salad?” I asked. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. They’ve got a filet mignon salad and a seafood salad and—”
“Seafood salad?” I asked. “I’m in.”
I got the driver on track, and we headed for the heart of downtown Los Angeles. I had nothing else to do on my schedule today, so I told the driver to take his time. Lunch was on me for everyone, and my mouth was starting to salivate at the idea of a crab-and-shrimp packed salad for my meal. There was nothing like a good seafood salad, and if they had shrimp cocktail on the menu, I’d be snagging one of those as well.
And maybe a piece of chocolate cake if they had it, too.
“Question,” Mr. Jeffries asked. “If I need to be late one day, like Wednesday, what is your personal protocol for that scenario?”
“Depends on the reason and how much time you’re giving me, but I get you have a life outside of me, as sad as that is.” I threw him a wink, and he chuckled a bit. The sound hit my ears like the smoothness of white chocolate on my tongue.
“My daughter is starting kindergarten, and I’d like to see her off on the bus before I come in,” he said.
“I’m not a tyrant,” I said. “Of course, you can come in late Wednesday. How old’s your daughter?”
“Just turned five,” he said.
“She excited to start school?”
“Much more excited than I am.”
“Why’s that?” I asked.
“She’s my little girl. It’s been just me and her since she was born. Relinquishing her to a kindergarten teacher without me there to watch over her is gonna be tough.”
“I can only imagine,” I said. “Why’s it been just the two of you?”
It was then I watched a stormy gaze barrel over his face. Gone was the playfulness of the beginning of our car ride, and in its place was a man being dragged back into memories he didn’t want to remember. I knew exactly what that felt like and was glad when I felt the car pull to a stop. I leaned over his body and opened his door for him to change the subject.
“Care for some food?” I asked.
“You gonna go in with that thing strapped to your arm?” he asked.
“Probably not a good idea. Wanna uncuff me?”
He dug the key out of his pocket and freed me from my metal confines before we stuffed the briefcase underneath the seat. He pocketed the key before he got out of the car, and then he dipped his hand down to help me out, just like he’d done before. The two of us went into the restaurant, and I was surprised there were no paparazzi in sight. I thought the driver had taken a longer route to get to the heart of downtown, and I made a mental note to give him a nice bonus this quarter. He was probably dodging the paparazzi that were behind us, and he deserved more money for that sort of effort.
We sat down and ordered our food, and it came out surprisingly quickly. People kept snapping pictures of us while we ate, and some people came up and asked for photographs. Mr. Jeffries came up with the best suggestion I’d heard in a while.
“Why don’t we take the rest of this to-go?” he asked. “Plus, eating food on a couch in pajamas is much better than eating food in impressive clothes while in a small little chair.”
“God, that sounds perfect,” I said. He flagged down the waitress, who’d already come over with to-go trays, and we packed our food in a brown paper bag before she gave us the check. I went to pick up the little black billfold that housed the amount that was due, but before I could get my card out of my purse, it was ripped from my fingertips.
“My treat,” he said.
“No,” I said. “I told you I was getting lunch, so that’s what I’m gonna do.”
“You can get it next time,” he said. “My suggestion, my treat.”
“You really weren’t kidding about this date thing,” I said, winking at him.
“Yep. Gotcha cuffed, uncuffed, and stuffed. Sounds like the perfect date to me.”
I threw my head back in laughter.
We gathered our food and hurried back to the car. My driver pulled out into traffic and got on the highway. I still felt bad that Jeffries paid for lunch, especially when I had offered to cover it, and something in my gut told me letting him pay was crossing a boundary. It was no secret he was a good-looking man, with his massive build, his strong arms, and his piercing blue eyes. But he was here to do a job, and I was here to keep a secret under wraps for as long as I could.
“You really didn’t have to pay, you know,” I said as the car came to a stop in front of my home.
“It’s really not a problem. Like I said, you can grab the next one.”
I plucked the briefcase out from underneath the seat while he carried the rest of the food inside. I leaned in and told my driver to go home and expect a nice bonus for evading the paparazzi. He kissed me lightly on my cheek before he drove off. I’d had him driving me around ever since my career first took off. He was the first person I hired onto my staff full-time, and he was the most precious old man I could’ve ever come across.
He reminded me of my grandfather, and that was probably one of the reasons I kept him around. He was warm and welcoming and never stuck his nose where it didn’t need to be, unless he felt it was absolutely imperative for my safety.
He was the one that actually convinced me to hire a bodyguard in the first place.
I watched Mr. Jeffries walk into the house, and it was the first time I’d taken a decent look at him. I followed him while he hung up his coat and took the food from his hand, watching him as he removed his tie and got comfortable in my home.
He was fucking hot. That much was for sure. I’d lucked out when the security company had sent me this sexy piece of eye candy they had. His shoulders rippled with every movement he made, and the muscles in his chest and back pulled his dress shirt taut.
If he wasn’t careful, a button would pop off and show me a bit of chest hair I’m sure he kept covered up underneath those layers of clothes.
“I’ll take this from you and get it set out on the table for us,” he said.
“I thought we were eating on the couch in our pajamas?” I asked.
“That sounds like another type of date to me,” he said, grinning.
I giggled at his joke and waited until he rounded the corner into the kitchen before I took out my purse. I pulled a couple of twenties from my wallet and shoved them into his coat pocket before I hung up my purse and shoved my wallet back into it. For some reason, it really felt like I was crossing a line with him buying lunch.
Especially with how my nipples stood at attention for him when he was taking off his coat.