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‘Yeah, well, you almost shared that image of you flat on your back in the water in nothing but your skivvies with the whole world.’ Dylan kicked away to the side of the pool, and Bethany watched mesmerised as he placed his hands against the tiles and pushed his way out, water cascading off his skin-tight drenched clothes, emphasising every ridge, every muscle, everything.
God, he was a good looking man.
Then, of course, her brain caught up with her libido. ‘Hang on, what? What do you mean?’
‘There was a photographer loitering outside the door to the pool.’ Dylan grabbed her towel from the lounger and dried off his face, then ran it over his hair. ‘I caught him before he came in. That’s why it took me so long to catch up to you – I had to turn him over to the security guys here.’
Suddenly, the water was too cold, chilling her poor, tired body. How could she relax in here knowing that any moment someone with a camera could walk in? What had she been thinking?
Even worse, she’d been so pleased about giving her bodyguard the slip. Turned out he’d been right there, protecting her from herself, all along.
Hell, she was going to have to apologise to him, wasn’t she?
Shivering, Bethany swam to the steps, then waited at the bottom, uncertain. ‘Um, could you pass me a towel?’
Dylan raised an eyebrow at her. ‘You realise it’s a bit late for that, right? I saw everything you were flaunting in there. Shortly before you faked your own drowning.’
‘I wasn’t faking anything!’
‘You weren’t drowning either.’
‘I never said I was!’ Bethany shook her head. This was the most ridiculous argument of her life, and she was having it while shivering in her soaking wet underwear. The world was just stupid.
With a deep breath, she hauled herself out of the water and up the steps. He wanted to look at her practically naked? Fine. He’d probably see almost as much if he rented one of her early movies. What did she care? It was all just an act, right?
Dylan’s gaze felt hot against her cool body, warming her after the chill of her near miss with the paparazzi. Bethany felt her skin tighten under his observation. He might be every inch the professional, just as Neil had promised - hell, he’d proved that by jumping into the pool after her without a second thought when he thought she was in trouble. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t a man, too.
How long had it been since a man looked at her like that? Too, too long, that she knew for sure.
She could see his throat move when he swallowed, then held the damp towel out towards her, ignoring the fact that his own clothes were still dripping.
‘Thanks.’ Bethany reached out to take it, but paused with her hand resting on his. ‘I’m sorry I tried to ditch you.’
Dylan shrugged. ‘You’re just lucky I found you before anyone else did.’
‘Yeah. I know.’ She gave him a half smile. ‘Neil said you were good at your job.’
‘I’m the best,’ Dylan said, without either modesty or pride, just stating a fact. ‘That’s why I was assigned to you. You matter to people, Bethany Lord. That’s why I’m here. To keep you safe.’
‘I do feel safer with you around,’ Bethany admitted, wondering when that had become the case. Before, she’d just felt hemmed in by his presence. Was it when he told her about the photographer he’d caught outside? No, it had been earlier than that.
She smiled as she realised. She’d known she was safe the moment he’d jumped into the pool after her.
‘Then stop trying to leave me behind?’ Dylan asked, a strange, amused pleading in his voice. Like he was infuriated and infatuated at the same time.
Bethany empathised. ‘I will,’ she promised, surprised to find she actually meant it.
‘Good.’ Dylan’s hand dropped away from the towel, and Bethany took it, wrapping it around her body and blotting away the droplets on her skin. Then she rubbed at her hair, knowing that the stylist tomorrow was going to hate her for roughing up the follicles. Tough; dry was more important than perfect right now.
Handing the towel back to Dylan, she tugged her dress back over her head. When she realised he was still standing staring at her, towel in hand, she grinned. ‘I figure your need is greater,’ she said, motioning to the towel.
With a nod, he ran it over his body but, Bethany had to admit, it probably wasn’t going to do much good at this point. The thing had to be soaking.
‘Think we stand a chance of making it up to the suite without anyone spotting us?’ Bethany asked, as Dylan opened the door and checked the corridor.
‘Maybe if I called in a bomb threat and they evacuated the building.’ He waved her forward, and she slipped through the door and headed for the elevators.
‘You’d do that for me?’
‘No.’
Oh well. She wasn’t really surprised. Dylan definitely had that by-the-book vibe to him. Which was a shame, really. The way his shirt still clung to his chest was giving her all sorts of ideas that she suspected were against the bodyguard rules.
Unfortunately.
***
Dylan tried damn hard to keep his eyes front and centre as Bethany dried off and got dressed but really, he was a man, not a robot. And all that creamy flesh in wet lingerie looked a hell of a lot better in person than it ever did on screen.
But however good she looked, that wasn’t the way this night was going to go. Grabbing his jacket from where he’d dropped it at the side of the pool, he retrieved his phone from the pocket and checked the screen. Three more updates on Bethany Lord’s family scandals.
And he still had to get her up to her room without any other guests, staff or paparazzi catching them soaking wet from their impromptu dip in the pool.
Sometimes, his job was the best in the world. Other times? It downright sucked.
Chapter Six
The elevator arrived quickly and, more importantly, it was empty. Bethany stepped in and moved to the back, happy to let Dylan stand in front of her and press the button for their floor. At least if another guest got in there was a chance that they’d be so distracted by the dripping wet bodyguard in a suit that they wouldn’t even notice she was th
ere.
A slim chance, but she was taking what she could get at this point.
‘I really didn’t think this whole plan through, did I?’ she mused, more to herself than Dylan, but he answered her anyway.
‘Not even a little bit.’ The door pinged and opened, and they stepped out into the empty corridor. At nearly midnight, Bethany had actually expected more Chatsfield residents to be about – it seemed like that sort of place. But maybe they were all still out partying. Maybe the other celebrities and millionaires who visited the famous hotel had bigger ambitions for fun and games than she did.
Or more lenient bodyguards.
‘I just wanted to go swimming.’ Bethany was aware that she was getting worryingly close to whining, but really. What kind of a world was it where she couldn’t even go swimming when she needed to?
Dylan stopped squelching along in front of her, and turned to face her. ‘You realise you can’t do that anymore, right?’
She blinked at him. ‘Swim? The hell I can’t.’ If she couldn’t swim, she’d be a big ball of tension and misery inside a fortnight. Besides, who the hell was he to tell her what she could and couldn’t do?
‘Swim alone, late at night, in your underwear, in a public pool, then,’ Dylan clarified, rolling his eyes.
‘Even if I take you with me?’ Not that she was planning to but, really, she wasn’t quite getting what his issue with her swimming in her underwear was. Unless he found it too much of a distraction… in which case she was totally doing it more often.
‘Well, that might depend.’ Dylan turned his back on her and kept walking, leaving her staring at the muscles moving under the still damp shirt.
‘On what?’ Realising she’d been standing watching him, she scurried to catch up, reaching his side as he slid the key card into the suite door.
‘On whether you wear a proper bikini next time.’ What was it about his voice that made her think he’d wanted to say something else. Like ‘or nothing at all’. Or maybe that was just her own wish fulfilment. ‘Or on whether you want photographic evidence of your hobby plastered all over the net, mostly.’ Dylan held the door open for her and Bethany stepped through hurriedly, as thoughts of the photographer outside the pool returned.
