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But then, if she hadn’t gone to the conference, she wouldn’t have spent that spectacular night with Bowie and she wouldn’t be...
She wouldn’t be wasting her time sifting through possible scenarios and practically talking to herself like some loon, Marlowe thought, completely annoyed with herself.
A light rap on her door had her back snapping into place, rigid and alert. Her eyes immediately darted toward the door. But when it opened, it was only Karen coming in with a large steaming mug of tea.
“Here you go, Ms. Colton,” she said, putting the mug down on the desk in front of Marlowe. “Herbal tea, cream and no sugar.” The young woman began to withdraw from the office. “I’ll let you know when Mr. Robertson arrives.”
“You do that,” Marlowe murmured.
Almost without thinking, she wrapped her hands around the large mug. The warmth that seeped into her was oddly comforting. Closing her eyes, she let herself drift for a moment.
But the knock on her door a few moments later had her eyes flying open.
“They’re here, Ms. Colton,” Karen announced, opening the door.
“They?” Marlowe questioned. Who exactly were they?
The next moment, Bowie came in, followed by what could have very possibly been the largest man she had ever seen. He wasn’t fat, just very, very wide and solid looking. The man had shoulders broad enough to double as a landing field, encased in a navy blue sports jacket that the giant seemed oddly comfortable wearing. But instead of a button-down shirt, he had on a gray turtleneck sweater. Casual, yet refined.
But just who was this man, and why had Bowie brought him into her office?
Turning her chair in his direction, Marlowe began to frame her question. “Bowie...?”
Way ahead of her, Bowie made the introduction. “Marlowe Colton, I’d like you to meet Wallace Bigelow.” He smiled. “Your new bodyguard.”
It took effort not to have her mouth drop open. She really hadn’t expected Bowie to act so fast. “My what?”
“Your bodyguard,” Bowie repeated. “We talked about this, remember?”
She had just assumed that Bowie had forgotten about that. Or would at least take his time.
Getting up from her chair, she moved over to the side, indicating that Bowie should move with her. When he did, Marlowe said, “I remember you talking. What I don’t remember is my agreeing to this.”
“Well, you did,” he informed her, “and here he is.” Bowie moved back to the center of the room, next to the man he had brought with him. “Bigelow, this sunny, smiling woman is Marlowe Colton. I want you to guard her with your life and make sure that absolutely nothing happens to her. Understood?”
“You have my word, sir.” Wallace’s deep voice seemed to practically rumble through the entire office like thunder.
Okay, this really wasn’t going to work, Marlowe thought. “No offense, Wallace, you seem like a very nice man, but I don’t need a bodyguard,” she told the giant, then turned toward Bowie. “I don’t,” she insisted.
Bowie’s expression didn’t change. “Would you like me to drag out exhibit A, that giant teddy bear you brought into my office? Or maybe exhibit B, the card that came with him?”
She knew when she was looking down the sights of defeat. What she needed to do now was gain some concessions.
“All right, all right, you’ve made your point. But shouldn’t a bodyguard be, well, you know, a little more inconspicuous than, say, a skyscraper?” She turned toward the giant of a man in her office. “Again, no offense, Wallace.”
For such an intimidating figure, Wallace had a very nice, winning smile. “None taken, ma’am,” he assured the woman he had been told to guard.
“Ma’am,” Marlowe echoed. She couldn’t help wincing. The label made her feel as if she was ancient. “Okay, if this is going to have a prayer of working, he can’t call me ma’am,” she told Bowie.
Bowie grinned. “I think it’s in his DNA,” he confided. “But Wallace doesn’t have to call you anything, do you, Wallace?” The man shook his head in agreement. “He just has to be,” Bowie told her.
“Don’t worry, you won’t even know I’m there,” Wallace promised her.
That was impossible, she thought. “I highly doubt that,” she told Wallace.
“Unless you need me,” Wallace added pointedly, his soft blue eyes looking at her.
“He really is very good at his job,” Bowie told her. “And besides,” he said, getting to what, in his mind, was the important part, “this is nonnegotiable.”
