Over the Line (19 page)

Jase grunted. "I'm thinkin' good drummers are a dime a dozen."

"You applying for the job?"

"Me? Hell no. I've got a job."

She'd promised herself she wouldn't, but it was time to bait the bodyguard again. It seemed only fair since every time he moved, she got a subtle little whiff of his wonderful scent, which she'd since decided was sage and triggered a few of her pheromones to stand to attention. "And are good bodyguards a dime a dozen, too?"

He didn't hesitate. "Yes, ma'am. They are."

This was something she should be used to by now. Beefcake without ego. Early on, she'd more or less decided she wasn't dealing with the usual suspect here.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you that job security depends on convincing everyone you're the best at what you do?"

"I
am
good at what I do. But so are a lot of others."

She thought about that for a moment. "That's the thing about war, isn't it? Makes for a lot of warriors with skills that transfer to law enforcement or private security.

"
Time
magazine," she explained when he glanced at her with reluctant interest. "Last week's issue. They had a big piece on it. 'After the War' or something. It was interesting."

He looked thoughtful, then looked away. But not before she saw a glimmer of something ... she didn't know what, but whatever it was, it made her sad. And it made her wonder what all he'd seen. What all he'd done in those wars that must haunt him yet today.

Not for the first time, she wished she knew more about him.

"How long were you in?"

He was quiet for a long time. She'd about decided that he was going to tell her it was none of her damn business and that small talk wasn't in his job description. But then he surprised her.

"Five years."

Five years
?
"So, you enlisted right out of high school?"

The look on his face told her he found that question marginally funny. "I went to the U of Iowa and worked on the farm with my dad for four years."

She did the math. And must have looked surprised.

"I'm twenty-seven, if you haven't already figured it out," he said.

"Amazing. You know, if you could somehow isolate that family gene and reproduce it in mass quantities, you'd make a fortune."
Not to mention that wonderful scent,
she thought.

"Yeah, well, it's a pain in the ass that I can't walk into a bar without getting carded."

She laughed. "Must be a guy thing. Most women I know get upset if they don't."

He finally smiled. "Go figure."

"Yeah. Go figure."

She unbuckled her seat belt and turned toward him, folding a leg up onto the seat. She should leave him alone. But she was in a mood to talk. And to pry. And tease a little. Besides, he started it with his question about Derek, so as far as she was concerned, that made him fair game.

For whatever reason, she felt relaxed and comfortable around him. For the first time in days—maybe weeks—she was able to just let the tension go and live in the moment. Have a little fun.

Maybe it was getting away from the tour, distancing herself from the bloodbath by Black's disciples last night that had bothered her more than she'd let on. Maybe it was simply Wilson. He was easy to be around. Whether it was because she'd discovered she actually did feel safer with him at her side or because he was the most normal person in her life of late she didn't know. She just knew she enjoyed his company—she even enjoyed the little sexual sparks flying around, although she still hadn't figured out if she was going to do anything about it.

In the meantime, she wasn't particularly happy to be returning to Tupelo, but she was relieved to be away from NYC. The prying lenses of the press and all the hype that went with a concert date were exhausting. She was grateful for the media coverage—both radio and TV—but relieved the interviews were behind her. She just wasn't up to playing rock star right now.

Most of all, right now she was glad that Baby Blue— she had to quit thinking of him that way or she'd end up saying it out loud someday—was providing a distraction.

"Do you like me, Iowa?" She hadn't intended to ask, but it was out now, so she'd just wait and see what he'd do about it. Was surprised that she really wanted to know.

"Because I like you, you know," she added, emboldened now that she'd opened up this line of dialogue. "I didn't want to because I didn't want a bodyguard. But you're okay. And you're not at all what I thought you'd be."

He gave her a leery look. "You were expecting, maybe, the Terminator?"

She laughed. "I was expecting, maybe, the usual muscle head Max hires. You're nothing like them."

He had nothing to say about that. In fact, she got the distinct feeling he felt very uncomfortable talking about himself.

So naturally, she kept it up. "You're a good-looking guy. Okay, a great-looking guy. Nice bunchy muscles. Gorgeous baby blues."

He rolled his eyes, blushed. She loved it. And ignored an internal alarm that warned her she might be crossing a line here.

"I had to figure you'd have an ego the size of a refrigerator. But you don't. You're just a nice guy."

He was actually squirming now. "My mother and my old Boy Scout leader would be pleased to hear that."

And the hell with good intentions. Bodyguard baiting had become her favorite new sport.

"So. Do you?"

He let out a deep breath, like he wished to God she'd leave him alone. "Do I what, ma'am?"

Ah. The "ma'am" factor again. She'd finally figured out that he whipped it out whenever he felt a little cornered or uncomfortable. And she kind of liked that she could make him feel that way.

"Do you
like
me?"

He gave her a look that said,
You are such a girl.
"You have a legion of fans who love you. Can't imagine it matters what I think."

"Quit stalling," she insisted, because now she really did want to know. "Just answer the question."

"I like you fine," he said, staring straight ahead after a heavily exhaled breath.

He was placating her. Or he was afraid to tell her exactly what he thought about her. Which, she was pretty certain by now, was the same way she felt about him. Intrigued. Aware.

Very, very aware.

She propped an elbow on the armrest, dropped her chin into her palm, and studied the way the tips of his ears flushed hot pink. Became fascinated by the smooth, hard line of his jaw, the strong nose and deep set of his eyes. She could see him in uniform. Could see him in special ops mode, focused, able, heroic.

She wondered if she could span his biceps with both hands. Never thought she'd be intrigued by muscle. Maybe it was the gentleness she'd sensed inside all the strength that really mesmerized her.

"Blue," she said, looking at his eyes. "Baby blue."

He slowly turned his head her way. "Excuse me?"

"Urn . .. blue. It's my favorite color," she hedged, but found herself grinning when she realized she'd spoken aloud. "What's yours?"

He grunted. "Camo."

He did have a way of making her smile. "Favorite song."

He rolled his eyes. "'Take Me, Baby.' "

She chuckled when he named her current chart single. "Yeah, right."

"Okay, fine. Anything by Toby Keith," he finally admitted grudgingly.

"Ah. I knew you were a country fan. Don't much like rock, do you?"

He bit his lower lip, like he was biting back the urge to tell her to back the hell off. "Do I lose chow privileges if I say no?"

A funny guy, her bodyguard. "Okay. Forget that question. I can guess the answer anyway. Let's see. Who's been the most influential person in your life?"

He hesitated. Swallowed. And stared straight ahead. "My brother."

There was way more emotion in his answer than two words should have held. More than she thought she wanted to deal with. At least not today. Someday, she'd ask. Maybe. But not today.

"I like to roller-skate. How about you? Ever roller-skated, Wilson?"

"Can't say as I have," he said after a long silence that spoke volumes about what he must be thinking about her mental state.

"Too busy ... doing what, back in Iowa?"

"Sorting the hayseed out of my pockets, ma'am," he said with such a put-upon scowl that she knew she was driving him nuts.

She hadn't had this much fun in a long time.

"You make me homesick for my dogs. And my cat."

He cocked his head, then shook it.

"Oh... no." She laughed at his "what the hell are you talking about" look. "That didn't come out right. Let me try again. I haven't seen them for a while—what with the tour and all. And now I'm thinking—wondering, I guess, how long it's been since you've been home. Wondering if maybe you get homesick for Iowa. And now I realize I'm a little homesick for my guys. The dogs," she clarified when he looked at her like he wished he had a gag.

Okay. It was time to take pity. "Do you play gin?"

Slowly, he shook his head, clearly lost by her mercurial switch of topics. "Do you have A.D.D. or something?"

Real
funny guy. "Just letting you off the hook, since you obviously aren't comfortable getting up close and personal."

"I'll ask the flight attendant for a deck of cards," he said, grabbing onto her offer like it was a lifeline.

Chapter 11

Jase was in a foul mood by the time they made their connection in Memphis for a short flight into Tupelo that afternoon. His concentration was for shit. He'd gotten his sorry butt whipped in three straight games of gin because of it. And losing did
not
set well. He didn't like to lose at anything.

Finally, thank God, she said she was tired, reclined in her seat, and fell asleep.

Jase spent the rest of the four-and-a-half-hour trip in clench-jawed silence, feeling like he'd been rolled over by a Bradley. Here he'd been doing everything in his power to keep from getting up close and personal and she was pumping him about colors and songs and ... and roller-skating for God's sake.

What the hell was that about?

Maybe she's just lonesome, lunkhead.

Life on the road... it was pretty isolating for her. Except for the hour or so she managed to squeeze out for her morning runs, it was pretty much all business, all work, and all at a pace that would give a sprinter fits.

And it wasn't like she had any girlfriends around to help her let off steam. Yeah, Lakesha and Tess dropped by the suite every once in a while, but it was never for long and it was usually to consult on an arrangement or background vocals or costumes. And now Max wasn't even around like he used to be.

Has to be lonely for her,
Jase thought again as he waited at the rental-car desk for their ride.

And you begrudge her a little harmless conversation just because you're afraid you can't keep a professional distance.

She looked up from her magazine in the rental-car waiting area when he approached with a set of keys.