Hansen helped her carry her bags
upstairs. Thankfully, they hadn't dropped them off at the hotel earlier. The
last room on the left was clearly the master suite and his, so she chose the
one directly across from it. The walls were a soft baby blue that matched the
bedspread. It wasn't as frilly as the hotel room, but it still had that air of
money about it, including an en suite bathroom that had a large shower and a
soaker tub. As much as she hated to admit it, she liked it.
Since she’d only brought a week’s worth
of clothing with her, it didn't take her long to unpack. They were on their way
downstairs within twenty minutes. As they reached the bottom of the staircase,
they heard voices. Each glanced at the other before reaching for their guns and
edging down the last remaining steps.
Rounding the corner, they saw a man
talking with Daniels. He appeared to be about her height, wearing a dress shirt
with the sleeves rolled up fashionably and neatly pressed pants. He didn't look
threatening, so they both holstered their guns and stepped into the room.
Before they made it more than a few
feet, the new arrival noticed their entrance and was quickly racing toward
them. Correction. He was racing toward her.
“Oh! This must be her,” he gushed. “I
see what you mean. I can definitely help.” Before she knew what was going on,
he was reaching for her suit jacket, trying to
remove it.
She reacted instinctively before
thinking it through. Within seconds, the man was bent over the kitchen island
with his arm pulled tight and high along his back.
“What in the world are you doing?”
Daniels demanded.
“What was he doing?”
“Jeez, lady. Relax. This is Charlie, my
stylist.”
Glancing down at what she then realized
were his designer clothes, Rebecca conceded she might have overreacted a
bit. She wasn't used to people grabbing at her and
trying to remove her clothes like that. She stepped back, releasing him.
“Sorry,” she said. “Just please don’t try to remove my clothing without asking
first.”
“Got it. No problem,” he said, glancing
between her and Daniels.
Hansen recovered faster than the rest
of them. “What’s he doing here?” he asked, nodding at Charlie.
“My girlfriend
is going to need some new clothing if she’s going to be out in public with
me. Outfits like that,” he pointed at the suit she was wearing, “won’t do.”
“And what exactly is wrong with my
clothing?”
“Honey,” he said, walking up, getting
way too close for her comfort. “The places I go? You’ll stick out like a sore
thumb in an outfit like that.” Then he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Or
do you want everyone to know you’re my bodyguard?”
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