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Chapter Eight
Allison was going to make him insane. Birch talked himself into believing it was his duty to watch as she swam in the incredible pool. It was a huge indoor pool, but she’d opened all the retractable walls and kept hopping out of the pool and doing laps around the backyard before returning to the pool and doing a cannonball on re-entry. She was so cute. Well cute didn’t quite fit as she was incredibly beautiful and fit, but she was cute too. If he wasn’t trying so hard to stay aloof he would’ve already fallen for her. He found himself chuckling as she swam a furious lap, then skipped to the hot tub, slid in, and let the jets pound her for maybe half a minute and finally she leapt out of the hot tub and ran a lap around the house in the chilly fall evening air, screaming and laughing to herself before she splashed back into the warm pool.
Her innocent giggles and grins throughout the process struck him hard. Did she know he was watching and was putting on an act or was she truly that happy and genuine? What he wouldn’t give to join her. He knew why he had to remain detached, but his resolve to keep his promise to Blade and his long-held opinions on actresses was altering the more time he spent with, and observing, Allison. He did still have an important protection detail to do though, and he needed to remain smart and detached for that, plus the promise to his brother had to stay forefront in his mind. Heading down to that swimming pool, wrapping his hands around her trim waist, and pulling her in close to his chest wasn’t a good idea. Or was it? He passed a hand over his face and wished she wasn’t so appealing, but even more surprising he wished he’d never made that promise to Blade.
Finally, she stopped swimming and went to her suite to shower. It was after nine. Would she come back out for dinner? As far as he could tell she’d only eaten an apple since lunch. He went to the kitchen, pulled out one of the many ready-made dinners that were stocked in the fridge and freezer and heated himself up a chicken stir-fry. He was impressed with the quality and taste of the food they had here. It was nice to not have to shop or cook.
After eating alone, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself. His stitches were itching and he was pretty sure it’d been long enough that he could remove them. He searched and found a well-stocked medicine cabinet. After lying out some sterile scissors to cut the stitches with, and some ointment and Band-aids to put on afterward, he tugged off his shirt and opened the scissor package. Twisting his torso, he examined the stitches, quickly giving himself a kink in the neck. The wound was in an awkward spot on the left side of his torso. The stitches were a little red but they looked okay to him and it had been almost a week, definitely time to get them out.
He tried to reach back and hold the first stitch while maneuvering the scissors to the spot with his other hand. His hand was in the way and he couldn’t quite see the stitches now. He’d have to do it by feel. Poking himself in the barely-healed wound with the pointy tip he let out a yelp of surprise and yanked the scissors away.
Blood trickled from the newly-healed wound and he cursed himself. Stupid. He couldn’t do this blind, especially with how awkward it already was trying to reach the wound spot on his side. He grabbed a paper towel and dabbed up the blood, then tossed it in the garbage, picked up his supplies, and determined he’d go up to his bathroom that had numerous mirrors. If he could see, maybe he wouldn’t poke himself again.
Footsteps descended on the stairs from above and he froze. Allison popped out from the foyer into the arched entryway to the living and kitchen area. Her mouth dropped as her eyes took their time perusing his chest. He had a hard time not flexing, hoping she liked what she saw.
Instead of saying something flirtatious she planted her hands on her hips, glared at him, and demanded, “What are you doing?”
“Trying to take my stitches out. What are you doing?”
Her mouth and eyes softened. “Oh. That’s why you’re shirtless.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“But why did you scream?”
“I did not scream.” He was a man for crying out loud. Scream?
She grunted and rolled her eyes. “Screamed like a little child.”
He fought to not roll his own. “I do notscream.” Before she could insist he did and humiliate him further, he said, “You may have overheard me … grunt in pain.” Grunting was manly, right? Had he yelped, or heaven forbid, screamed? The mere thought made him squirm. “You thought something was wrong, and that’s as fast as you responded?”
She gaped at him. “Well, excuse me,” she rebutted. “I was on the phone with my agent.”
His eyes widened. He hadn’t taken her phone because they’d determined there was no way the stalker could’ve gotten access to it, and he had checked for bugs just to be certain, but he’d think she’d be smart enough not to be making calls and telling all her Hollywood buddies where she was. “Are you kidding me? Does your own safety mean nothing to you?”
“I trust my agent. She’s the best of the best of the best, sir.” She saluted him and he thought she was trying to make him laugh but he wasn’t in a laughing mood. He could feel more blood trickling from his itchy, annoying stitches and all he wanted was to keep her safe while he simultaneously fought this insane pull and attraction he felt for her, and she was off gallivanting on phone calls with her agent?
“The best at getting you movie deals, not at ensuring your safety,” he growled. Ensuring her safety was his job, and his alone. “Who else have you called? Have you revealed your location?”
“No,” she fired back at him. “I’m not stupid. I’ve responded to some texts and emails, simply telling them I’m enjoying a vacation while I’m between films.”
“Turn your phone off, stop responding to anyone, or I will confiscate your device.”
She stormed toward him and despite himself, he thought she was glorious with her dark hair streaming behind her and her dark eyes flashing fire at him. He liked the way she moved—confident and athletic and unfortunately for him, very appealing. Any man who could face off with this feisty beauty for life would never be bored, that was for sure. The increasing beating of his heart and the prickling of his skin was definitely inspiring him. She stirred feelings in him he hadn’t felt since he’d shut his heart off when Bermuda had destroyed his faith in women, especially Hollywood women, and then that night, his brother had died. The valves that pushed life-saving blood to his body were irrevocably damaged by his brother’s death. Somehow he’d survived, but he’d been certain he’d never heal.
She reached him and jabbed a finger into his chest. “You don’t tell me what to do …” Her voice trailed off and she flattened her hand on his chest while the other hand went to his side and cupped his waist, just below his stitches. “What on earth? You’re bleeding.”
Birch couldn’t have cared less about a little blood at the moment. Her warm palms planted on his chest and the side of his abdomen were like a healing ointment and a stimulating balm mixed together. He closed his eyes and simply savored her touch. He sometimes gave his buddies manly slaps on the back, occasionally kissed a pretty woman while on leave, and he gave his sister and mother perfunctory hugs so as not to cause a battle, but it had been far too long since he’d felt the sweet touch of an intriguing, beautiful, and incredible woman. He searched his memory to see if a touch had ever felt this good but the only thing that was coming to mind was how perfect it had felt to hug Allison after she’d been attacked on the beach. Before he’d remembered what she was and what group she represented and his promise …
His eyes jerked open and he flinched back away from her and stood ramrod straight.
“Birch?” Allison’s hands were still aloft and his muscles twitched as if remembering how great it felt to be touched by her and he wanted to walk forward and claim her fingers on him again.
Birch swallowed hard and clasped his own hands behind his back, lest he reach out to her. The scissors dug into his palm. Allison wasn’t the type of woman he was looking for. If that was true, why did he yearn for her and why did the searching look in those dark eyes make him want to hold her close and never let her go? Would it be out of line to simply hug her? What about a kiss? A short one.
Birch blinked quickly and backed up another step. He prayed in his mind for strength. The good Lord had helped him on many missions and that was all this was, just another mission, risking his life for the good of others. His Father above had always been there for him, even when he was a small child and felt so alone, and especially when Blade died and he’d been truly alone. Blade wouldn’t want Birch to fall prey to a woman who was probably toying with him and was definitely going to break him if he failed on his promise to his brother and allowed her into his scarred heart.
Allison’s hands slowly lowered but she held them out as if placating a small child. “Birch,” she said calmly, evenly. “You’re bleeding. Can I help you?”
