Page 1 of Not the Bodyguard's Princess
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“Idiots.”
Jordan peered through the small plane’s window at the gathering crowd and instantly agreed with Blake. “How did they know I’d be here? Hearthfire promised to keep my arrival quiet.”
They’d chosen the municipal airport north of Green Bay for its remote location. The entire point of taking the private jet had been to avoid the chaotic scene now unfolding at the side of the tarmac. Judging by the satellites on top of two vehicles, at least two local television stations had joined the throng of fans.
“The channel needs more publicity.” The graying bodyguard who’d watched over her for all her twenty-six years was rarely wrong.
“They could have warned us.” At least she’d changed from the yoga pants and oversized shirt she’d boarded the plane with to jeans and a green sweater. “Too bad it isn’t a blustery fall day. No one likes having the wind toss airplane dust in their face.”
“I see three bodyguards from the studio over by the crowd. Stu is with the producer.” Disdain filled Blake’s voice. There was little love lost between Jordan’s personal bodyguard and the studio’s lead bodyguard, Stu.
“Four bodyguards for a crowd of a hundred?” Jordan used a compact to check her makeup. Anything short of raccoon eyes, she’d live with.
“One hundred fifty and more arriving. I don’t like the setup. Too few guards. Keep Princess with you. I need both hands free.” He didn’t need to say more. Under her updated contract, Hearthfire supplied their own bodyguards on the set and for public appearances, limiting Jordan’s personal security. Blake often grumbled that most of the studio’s guards had learned everything they knew at the movie set.
Jordan clipped a leash on her well-groomed mutt and slung a cross-body bag over her shoulder. She would have grabbed her carry-on too, but that would make waving at her fans difficult. Someone would get it to her hotel. “Ready, Princess?” The dog wagged her tail and tugged at the leash. Jordan hoped they could find a patch of grass soon, as her little dog had been good the entire flight.
Shouts of “Princess! Princess!” arose as they exited the plane. Her mutt wagged her tail and leapt with excitement. She petted her dog. “Calm down, they aren’t here to see you.” After her three and a half seasons playing Princess Sam, some fans no longer made the distinction between the actress and her adventurous character.
Paul, the producer, met her at the bottom of the stairway. Princess pulled at her leash, eager to reach the patch of grass near the fence. Jordan obliged. Better than getting caught in argument 436 between her bodyguard and her boss and producer about her safety. It didn’t matter. She had no choice but to sign autographs and wave since Stu and Paul weren’t taking any of the letters or threats seriously. Blake would try to keep her as safe as one man could. If only she had the rest of his team to guard her back.
Neither the chanting of the crowd nor the intensity of the argument had wound down by the time Jordan and Princess returned.
Blake stood with his arms crossed. “What do you mean there’s no room for me at the hotel?”
“You are not a Hearthfire employee or contractor, and we are not obligated to make your accommodations. Now, we must get moving. Jordan’s fans are waiting.” The producer pulled out his phone and pointed to his scheduling app. “Stu, tell security we’re coming.”
“Wait. I have a two-room suite, don’t I?” asked Jordan.
“Of course you do.”
“Then Blake stays with me.”
Paul used his most condescending smile, the one usually reserved for when an actor argued about their part. “How will it look to your fans, you sharing a room with a man twice your age? It violates your morality clause.”
“One, my fans better not know where I’m staying, and two, I always have Blake with me, so it will look normal.” The teen fans didn’t worry Jordan. It was the adult males she was avoiding, especially since the recent escalation in gifts and letters over the summer.
“His presence at the hotel isn’t in your contract. There’s another hotel across the street. Now, hurry yourself over to your fans before they mutiny and I hold you in breach of contract. Your bodyguard friend can take care of your dog.”
Jordan glanced at Blake, who gave the tiniest shake of his head. “I’ll keep Princess with me.”
“No, give him the dog. I don’t want complaints about that bag of flees scaring your fans.”
As if the well-groomed fifteen-pound ball of fur was even remotely scary. However, many people had fears, and Jordan respected that. Jordan handed Blake Princess’s leash.
Flanked by Paul and Stu, she went to meet the waving and cheering fans, Blake just behind her.
“Cute dog. What’s her name?” asked a tall redheaded teen girl.
“Princess. She’s a rescue.”
“She looks like a fox.”
A practiced laugh escaped Jordan’s lips. “She is a dachshund-terrier mix, but don’t tell her. She thinks it’s cooler to be a fox.”
The girl handed her a six-month-old tabloid. “Will you sign it? For my mom.”
