Protector for Hire Read Online Free Page A

he’d asked.
    “I’m going to get some water. It’s going to be dark soon, right? I want to do my share of work around here, and I’d rather go find the well while there’s still daylight.”
    He probably shouldn’t have let her get halfway down the gravel drive before he yelled for her to come back. But hell, he’d been enjoying a rear view that was just as sexy as the rest of her.
    When he showed her the real bathroom—complete with an oversize antique claw-foot tub and a tile shower he’d installed himself, thank you very much—the look of relief on her face was almost palpable.
    “Thank you,” she whispered, turning to look at him with eyes that shimmered in the light from the antique copper fixture.
    Shit, was she crying? Dammit, he hadn’t meant to do that.
    He took a step back, trying to put some distance between them. “Look, why don’t you take a bath or something?”
    “What?” She raised one arm and turned to sniff under it. “Are you saying—”
    “Dammit, no. I wasn’t suggesting you stink.” Schwartz raked his hands through his hair, wondering how he’d gotten so bad at this.
    Ten years in a remote cabin trying to hide from your ghosts will do that to you.
    He cleared his throat. “I’m just saying you’ve been traveling a long time. Why don’t you get settled in, maybe wash your hair or rub daisies on your face or whatever the hell women do to feel refreshed.”
    She smiled. “I didn’t bring any daisies.”
    “Lichen, then. Whatever.”
    She smiled again, and Schwartz felt his gut twist. “A bath sounds heavenly. Do you mind if I use some of the Bal d’Afrique bath oil I brought?”
    “I have no idea what you just said, but if it’s behind closed doors, I don’t really care what you do to yourself in here.”
    “I got it at Barneys. It’s scented with neroli, African marigold, jasmine, black amber, and cedar. It’s a hundred and twenty bucks for this little bitty bottle, but so worth it for the way it makes your skin feel.”
    “I’ll put that on my shopping list,” he muttered, trying not to think about the way her skin might feel pressed up against his. “Go on,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom. “I’ll make dinner.”
    “Do you have to go out and shoot it first?”
    “Maybe. If I’m not back by Wednesday, send Sherman out to drag my carcass home.”
    “I’ll have a taxidermist stuff you and mount you on the wall.”
    He laughed, surprised to realize she could dole out the teasing as well as she took it. “Make sure he poses me angled a little to the right. Gotta show off my good side.”
    She nodded and made her way toward the office where he’d set her bags. When she got to the doorway, she turned back to face him.
    “Thank you, Schwartz. For everything.”
    He nodded. “Don’t mention it.”
    By the time she emerged from the bathroom an hour later, Schwartz had dinner almost ready. He’d grilled up burgers on the barbecue he kept just outside the cabin, and even made the extra effort to cut up tomatoes and lettuce so she could pile her burger with rabbit food. Wasn’t that what city people did?
    Must be, since she devoured the damn thing like she hadn’t eaten for a week, then sat looking sheepish and beautiful with her cheeks rosy and her hair damp from her bath. She’d ditched the ugly black wig and the dark eye makeup she’d worn for her journey. She smelled fucking amazing, so that expensive oil might be worth it after all.
    She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and folded it on her plate. “I was hungrier than I realized. Thank you.”
    “No problem. Want dessert?”
    “You baked dessert?”
    “Do I look like Betty Crocker?” He shook his head. “Pop-Tarts.”
    “What?”
    “That’s what’s for dessert. And breakfast. Sometimes lunch and dinner, if I’m rewarding myself for something.”
    “You like Pop-Tarts?” She looked amused by that, like he’d just confessed he enjoyed dressing up in women’s underwear and parading