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But the time for SEAL lessons, for games and costumes, was over.
She placed her hand on the knob. “Good thing I skipped the maid outfit tonight, huh? I wouldn’t want to rush out and meet Mason in that.”
“Yeah.” His hand covered hers, holding the door shut. “Before you go back to work, before you leave, I want to thank you for showing me the real Chrissie. Even if it was just for one night.”
I knew the man who gave me a back massage in the greenroom so I could relax wouldn’t slam the door on me if I forgot my maid costume.
Still, she hadn’t expected him to tell her how much he wanted her, not the fantasy. He’d said those words as if he thought they could find a way forward. As if he’d seen through her getups from the beginning.
Impossible.
Tonight was a wake-up call. She needed to stay focused on her career.
Chapter Sixteen
Dante wanted to go out there and tell her manager, her label, and even her mother, to go to hell. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that telling them off would throw a roadblock in Chrissie’s path to success. Her future was focused on her career.
And he was nothing more than a distraction.
He got it. She’d told him the truth, which was a helluva lot more than he could say for his ex. And yeah, he understood what she’d meant, probably better than anyone else. Because, if he went back to work, his heart and mind wondering about the woman he freaking loved, he’d be distracted, too. And he couldn’t afford to let his personal life interfere with his job.
He scanned the parking lot as they exited the hotel and headed for her trailer. The door swung open and Mason appeared, a cell phone pressed to his ear. Her manager waved to them, and Chrissie picked up the pace. He followed, matching her stride for stride, still surveying the dark lot.
“Would have been better to meet inside,” he said.
“Next time,” she muttered as they reached the steps. “My notes are in here.”
Yeah, like he’d still be around for her next major call. “That’s what I’d recommend,” he said. “For you safety.”
She spared him a parting glance over her shoulder. “Would you mind waiting out here while I take the call?”
He nodded, thrusting aside the feeling of having a door slammed in his face. “After I check the trailer.”
“But Mason’s been in there,” she said. “And I need—”
“I need to do the job you hired me to do,” he said. He stopped himself before he added a sarcastic “Ms. Tate.” None of this was her fault.
Fuck, it was his. He’d gone and fallen in love with a woman who talked to him, who communicated her needs, fulfilled his fantasies, and who put her career first—always. So much for listening to freaking logic and keeping a hold on his heart. He’d gone from a wild rebound fling with a Vegas dancer to loving a woman who drew the line at wanting him for sex.
And self-defense training. He couldn’t forget their damn lessons.
He quickly scanned the trailer, and he ignored Mason’s panic as he checked behind doors. The manager wanted Chrissie on the phone now, but her safety came first.
When he’d completed his search, he stepped out of the trailer and closed the door. He assumed a parade rest position and forced himself to tune out his feelings, his wants, his desires—everything but the parking lot and his mission. He was here to keep Chrissie Tate safe.
Nothing more.
Their future wasn’t a problem he could solve. Hell, it was like ripping up his knee all over again. He could get in and reach the girl, but he couldn’t find a safe exit strategy. But at least this time, instead of a knee injury, he’d leave with a broken heart. He didn’t need that particular organ fully functional to be cleared for active duty.
Still, heartache sucked. And knowing he’d spend the next few days traveling with her, always at her side, keeping her safe but not touching her? Talk about hell.
…
Chrissie glanced over at her bodyguard. He’d maintained a professional presence, always nearby, checking rooms before she entered, and leading the way when they approached a crowd. But he hadn’t crossed the line since Denver.
Of course, her panic had been for nothing. Her label loved the idea for her new song and the way she planned to present her future hit.
But her late arrival to the call had thrust Mason into hyper-focused mode. Her manager worked around the clock now to ensure her success, talking to the publicity team, and assuring her label that more new songs would be ready soon. He’d even stepped in to help with her family woes—by purchasing a one-way ticket back to Florida for her father.
