Rock the Bodyguard Read Online Free

a
custom made sprung floor. The back wall was mirrored and the front was tempered
glass. The combined effect of the materials was to make her feel as if she were
dancing alone in a gargantuan space. In the middle of it, her body moved with a
rhythm all of its own, responding to the music in a way she didn't even try to
consciously control.
    There was freedom in the dance;
there was possibility in it. It was her dancing that had originally catapulted
her to fame and it was her dancing that reminded her why she withstood all the
pressures that came with that fame. The crowds were awe-inspiring, the money
was nice, but when all was said and done, it was the dance that propelled her,
that soothed her. They could take it all away. They could take the fame and the
crowds and the money away and she would still have the dance.
    For the longest time, she didn't
notice the figure watching her. When she did spot the tall, broad shouldered
man giving her a look she could only describe as being one of disbelief, she
waved him away and continued on. There was no room for anyone else in the
dance; this was her time, her time free from judgment and onlookers. There was
no time to answer to anyone else, to stop and explain. The dance was its own
explanation.
    When she was all danced out some
time later she found Miles sitting on the balcony with a cup of coffee and the
morning newspaper. It was still early and the halo of sleepy somnolence
remained in the liquid rays of early morning light. The beach beyond the hotel
was quiet, populated with one or two hopeful surfers and runners, but otherwise
still, save for the crashing of the waves.
    She paused inside the suite for a
moment, just taking him in. He was wearing a crisp white shirt and black
slacks. He looked strong and stoic, sitting so still he could have been a
statue but for the light breeze ruffling his dark hair. Somehow, in spite of
being dressed in a thoroughly generic and understated manner, Miles was
managing to look out of place, even in a town where strong, handsome men were a
dime a dozen. She gazed at his profile, wondering if it was something about his
face. His brow was strong, but not overly pronounced, his cheekbones were solid
and his jaw was square and hard. He'd have made a good lead in an action movie,
though he probably would be far too dignified to go through all the nonsense
associated with being an actor. No, Miles was a man rooted strongly in reality,
she could tell that already. He wasn't impressed by all the glitz and glamor of
Los Angeles – and as far as she could tell, that included her too.
    “Hey,” she said, sipping at some
cucumber water as she stepped out onto the balcony.
    Miles looked up from his newspaper.
“Hello Miss Raine.” Somehow he managed to sound stern, even though he was
engaging in pleasantries. He didn't return her smile and she wondered if he was
mad at her.
    “Did I wake you?”
    He pushed his sleeve back and
looked at the watch on his wrist. “Three hours sleep. You have a grueling
schedule, Miss Raine.”
    She shrugged. “I like to dance.”
    He gave her a keen look that seemed
to go right through her. “Trouble sleeping?”
    “I'll sleep when I'm dead,” she
laughed, avoiding the question. Yes, she had trouble sleeping. The European
tour was set to start in less than a week and she was about to go overseas for
the first time in her life. Butterflies began massing in her stomach whenever
she thought about it.
    Accepting her flippant response,
Miles nodded and returned his gaze to his newspaper. Almost immediately, Cash
went from feeling interrogated to ignored. She sat down in the chair opposite
and stared at him, willing him to pay attention to her again. Eventually he folded
his newspaper down and looked over it. “Can I help you, Miss Raine?”
    “You're up early too.”
    “I heard a noise,” Miles explained.
“It turned out to be a one woman dance party.”
    Cash grinned. “Sorry.”
    “No need to apologize, Miss