The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones Read Online Free Page B

in touch with her. She didn’t know what to do. Going to Hong Kong was the opportunity of a lifetime, but you needed a place to recuperate. That’s where I came in. I said I would look after you until you were back on your feet.”
    â€œJust like that?”
    â€œOf course. She’s my friend.” She seemed surprised by the question, as if opening her house to a sick stranger was commonplace.
    â€œWhat does Mr. Jones think about this?”
    Her mouth twisted down at one corner. “I didn’t consult him. We’re divorced.”
    â€œI’m sorry.”
    â€œIt happens. He left me for a trophy wife.”
    She leaned forward slightly. The movement caused her shorts to gape slightly by her thigh, exposing a hint of white, lacy panties. Mike told himself he was a bastard for looking and forced himself to concentrate on the conversation.
    â€œTrophy wife? You mean a woman he won somewhere?”
    â€œExactly. A trophy wife is younger, prettier, blonder. Now that Nelson is successful, he wants someone new to share that with. I’m surprised you’re not familiar with the phenomenon. It’s very prevalent in the suburbs.”
    â€œI’ve never been in the suburbs before.”
    â€œYou’re in for a treat. It’s a different world here. One of four-door cars and families. This is the American dream in progress.” Her eyes brightened with humor. “I sometimes think I’m the ultimate cliché.” She shifted on the bed and sat cross-legged. It made his knees hurt just to look at her. She held up one hand and began counting off on her fingers. “I’m divorced, and I was left for a younger woman. I’m a teacher, a traditionally female profession. I live in a bedroom community, I drive a minivan, I use coupons and I have two-point-four children.”
    He folded his arms over his chest and grinned. “Let me guess. The point-four child is Shelby, Allison’s imaginary friend.”
    â€œYou’ve met?”
    â€œShe’s met me. I wasn’t sure where she was standing.”
    Their gazes locked. Something leaped between them. Something hot and alive—like electricity. Mike felt warm all over, even though he was practically naked under the sheet. His skin prickled and he had the strangest sensation of taking a step off a bridge, or a building. Only this time, instead of falling, he was suspended there.
    Cindy’s green eyes darkened as her pupils dilated. Her breathing increased. He could hear the rapid cadence in the silent room. His blood quickened and he felt the second flickering spark of desire around her.
    Then, as if someone had snapped his fingers to break the spell, it was gone. They both looked away. Mike didn’t know if Cindy was feeling the same sense of loss, but he noticed a splotch of color on each of her cheeks.
    She cleared her throat. “The only difference between me and most women in my situation is that I got to keep the house. Aunt Bertha, bless her heart, died and left me enough money to pay down the mortgage, pay off Nelson and refinance. You can’t keep a place this big on a teacher’s salary.”
    He didn’t know what to say, so he blurted out the first thing that came to him. “Why did you marry someone named Nelson?”
    She laughed. “It’s a question I’ve asked myself again and again.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “He wasn’t much of a husband. Good riddance.”
    He tried to remember the last time he talked with a woman. Just talked. Not as a prelude to sex, or because they were working together. Except for his phone calls with Grace, he didn’t know that he ever had.
    â€œWhat about you?” she asked. “Ever married?”
    â€œWhat makes you think I’m not now?”
    â€œBecause you would have gone home to her instead of coming to Grace’s.”
    â€œGood point. No, I’ve never been