Page 11 of The Bodyguard

“There’s never anything to talk about. I don’t remember that I have a boyfriend half the time.” She shook her head. “Forget that. What I mean is—I want to know this: do you think he’s not answering because I wasn’t answering earlier this week?”

Damn, there was a lot to unpack in just a few words. “I mean… that would be childish.”

She fiddled with the delicate gold bangles that peaked from the cuff of her blouse. “He’s not childish.”

The tension in his neck tightened again. “So he’s just as busy as you are.”

“Sawyer, I said it wasveryimportant.”

“Look…” He sucked in a deep breath that did little to ease the discomfort corkscrewing his trapezoids. Sawyer searched for a diplomatic answer. “He doesn’t know what’s happened. You didn’t say, and, tit-for-tat, you both ignored each other. So…”

Angela’s lips pursed.

What was he trying to say here? Defending Paul wasn’t on his agenda. Then again, Sawyer didn’t have an agenda. “I don’t know, sweetheart.”

She deflated as though he’d punctured the last reserve of hope she’d been guarding.

“There are a million things that could be going on,” Sawyer tried. His semi-defense of Paul ratcheted up the ick factor. He pinched the bridge of his nose. There was no reason to neg on the guy when Sawyer didn’t have both sides of the story. “I don’t think I’m a lot of help.”

She held her phone up to him. “Will you look at this and tell me if it reads as crazy as it made me feel?”

A small picture of Paul Bane was at the top of the message. The image looked like a corporate headshot. Or a political one. The type in which the guy smiled as though he was trying to portray his trustworthiness and relatability. The churning in Sawyer’s stomach double-timed. “You don’t want me to read that.”

“Yeah, I do. I need some perspective.” She shoved the phone closer. “There’s no one else in this entire building that I would ask.”

He cut her a glance. “Talk to Chelsea or Amanda. What about Jane?”

“I already explained that I can’t.”

“They’re your girlfriends.”

“I can’t. Sawyer, come on.” She repositioned on the couch, sliding closer, and made the pouty face that knocked out his defenses. “I’m going to beg again, and no one wants that.”

The faint, familiar hint of her perfume enticed him to steal another glance at her effective pout.

“I almost died yesterday.”

He pulled back and laughed. “I was there, Ange.”

“That’s gotta count for a favor or two. Please?”

Sawyer shook his head but gave in. He browsed her message to Paul. It read like a business email, complete with a subject line.

Important: Need to discuss.

When is a good time to connect?

“Give me a break.” The corners of his lips lifted. “That doesn’t exactly read like ‘someone tried to kill me. Answer the phone.’”

“No.” She held up her hand and then pointed at Sawyer. “I would send you a message like that. But him?” She shrugged. “That would be a little over-dramatic.”

His brow furrowed. No wonder she hadn’t asked Jane, Amanda, or Chelsea. Their response would be far less diplomatic than his. “To say to your boyfriend? After someone tried to kill you? Is there a better time to throw on the theatrics?”

“He’s…” She bit her lip. “A little more buttoned-up than us. And he’s busy.”

“You’re about the most buttoned-up, closely controlled person I’ve ever met,” he muttered. “If we’re being honest.”

She elbowed him. “Not in all circumstances.”

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