Page 2 of Forbidden Confessions: Vol. 2
“I’m ready,” I tell him as I hide my liquid lipstick in my cleavage.
When I look up from tucking the tube between my breasts, there’s a stranger beside David, towering over me and watching my every move. I would feel ridiculous…but with a glance, he knocks out my breath and steals my good sense.
Holy sex drive! I have no idea who this guy is or why he’s here, but he’s as gorgeous as a god, with shoulders almost as wide as the doorframe. His dark eyes are like midnight. He’s wearing a black T-shirt that hugs the bulges of his biceps and exposes tattooed sleeves down both arms. Black denim and black boots complete the look. He’s going to swelter in today’s heat…but he’ll look damn fine doing it.
The more I stare, the more my pulse kicks up like I’ve just sprinted a mile in this heat. There’s a flutter low in my belly that has nothing to do with pre-show nerves.
“Hi,” I say stupidly.
He nods. “Ms. Larsen.”
David intervenes. “This is Rand Garrison, your security detail for the parade.”
The name fits him—hard, blunt, almost brutal. “Nice to meet you.”
“Same,” he murmurs.
The word doesn’t sound like a mere pleasantry. This man isn’t the sort to bother with silly things like decorum or etiquette. I’ve met his type before—very serious and convinced he’s one of the few who stand between order and anarchy in this dangerous world.
His gaze drops to my mouth for just a heartbeat before snapping back to my eyes, and I catch the slightest tightening around his jaw. Is he…noticing me? Not as a public figure; I get that a lot. But as a woman?
“Where’s Rob?” I ask about my usual security detail.
“Tossing his cookies like he’s doing a reenactment of The Exorcist. So you’ll spend the day with Rand, former Marine and most recently a Dallas SWAT captain. Any questions?”
For a two-hour lip-synching gig? “No.”
“Great.” David claps his hands together impatiently. “You look fetchingly patriotic. Shake what God gave you for Uncle Sam, and you’ll do great. I’ll be waiting for you at the end of the route with Graham.”
Graham Normoth, the new British pop sensation with a velvety voice and sensitive face. Women all over the globe swoon and scream for him. Probably because they don’t actually know him as a human being.
“He’s here?”
“He flew in last night. He wanted to surprise you…but jet lag and traffic and whatnot. He told me he can’t wait to see you after the parade.”
“Oh, great.” I do my best to sound chipper, but I’m pretty sure David knows I’m not happy.
“And Rand?” David raises a golden brow at my temporary bodyguard with an expression I can’t quite read. “I trust you’ll take excellent care of our girl here.”
“I’ll guard her with my life.” Rand steps back and into the glow of overhead lights. He’s even more striking. The wide diagonal scar through his left eyebrow that skipped over his eye and sliced its way down his cheek before stopping short of his mouth only gives him a sexier edge. Ironically, when he gestures me out of the doorway and into a deserted hall, I find myself gawking like I’m the fan staring at a heartthrob.
David hangs back, watching Rand settle an enormous, furnace-hot hand on my naked skin above the backless dress’s scooped edge. He smiles.
What are you up to?
I don’t have time to ask before Rand hustles me out of the little shop and guides me down the back of the parade route, flanking me as he escorts me to my waiting float, all while maintaining his palm on my bare back. It’s all I can do not to shiver at his touch.
“Do you know where I’m supposed to go?” I ask to cut the tension.
“Yes.”
“Do you know the parade route?”
“Yes.”
“Did David arrange for you to ride the float with me?” It’s a must since I’ve had a few unnerving incidents over the last couple of years.
“Yes.”
