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But his protection comes at a price…
Enjoy this Forbidden Confession. HEA guaranteed!
Arlington, Texas
July 4
10 a.m.
Sophie
This morning is already hotter than the underside of Hades, but it’s also Independence Day. My agent, David, insisted that hometown-girl-made-good appearing in one of the biggest parades in Texas is an effective grassroots way to spread the word about my new single and upcoming album, so here I am. Besides, I’ve traveled the globe for the better part of a dozen years. It’s comforting to spend a day near home, surrounded by the smell of smoking brisket and the sight of people waving Old Glory.
“Ten minutes,” David proclaims as he sticks his head into the little bathroom at the back of one of the shops at the top of the parade route.
Of course he’s wearing a suit, despite the fact it’s already a hundred degrees. And he looks impeccable doing it. The man is a stickler.
“Thanks.” I check my red lipstick in the dingy mirror.
This is as good as it’s going to get. My sparkling red minidress is an attention-getting showstopper, but the Stars-and-Stripes stilettos really command a double take. I feel a bit like USO Barbie…who suddenly decided to walk a street corner.
Then again, it matches my new image. Gone is my squeaky-clean child-star persona. Now I’m anadult—and David never misses an opportunity to remind people that puberty hit me hard and fast by dressing me in things that cling to my ass and show off the fact I very definitely have boobs. It’s annoying…but I can’t argue with the results. It’s working.
I’m just not sure I care anymore.
Another problem for another day.
“I’m ready,” I tell him as I hide my liquid lipstick in my cleavage.
When I look up from tucking the tube between my breasts, there’s a stranger beside David, towering over me and watching my every move. I would feel ridiculous…but with a glance, he knocks out my breath and steals my good sense.
Holy sex drive!I have no idea who this guy is or why he’s here, but he’s as gorgeous as a god, with shoulders almost as wide as the doorframe. His dark eyes are like midnight. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs the bulges of his biceps and exposes tattooed sleeves down both arms. Black denim and black boots complete the look. He’s going to swelter in today’s heat…but he’ll look damn fine doing it.
“Hi,” I say stupidly.
He nods. “Ms. Larsen.”
David intervenes. “This is Rand Garrison, your security detail for the parade.”
The name fits him—hard, blunt, almost brutal. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” he murmurs.
The word doesn’t sound like a mere pleasantry. This man isn’t the sort to bother with silly things like decorum or etiquette. I’ve met his type before—very serious and convinced he’s one of the few who stand between order and anarchy in this dangerous world.
“Where’s Rob?” I ask about my usual security detail.
“Tossing his cookies like he’s doing a reenactment ofThe Exorcist. So you’ll spend the day with Rand, former Marine and most recently a Dallas SWAT captain. Any questions?”
For a two-hour lip-synching gig? “No.”
“Great.” David claps his hands together impatiently. “You look fetchingly patriotic. Shake what God gave you for Uncle Sam, and you’ll do great. I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the route with Graham.”
Graham Normoth, the new British pop sensation with a velvety voice and sensitive face. Women all over the globe swoon and scream for him. Probably because they don’t actually know him as a human being.
“He’s here?”
“He flew in last night. He wanted to surprise you…but jet lag and traffic and whatnot. He told me he can’t wait to see you after the parade.”
