Page 31 of The Bombshell and the Bodyguard
I shook my head. “Nah, that’s okay. I’m just gonna go... back to bed. Thanks though.”
Her exuberant body language wilted. “Okay. Well... I’ll turn the volume down so it doesn’t wake you again.”
As I turned to go, she called out to me. “Wilder?”
“Yeah?” I spun back around.
She gave me a sweet smile. “Have a good sleep.”
Oh yeah, I’m just gonna drift right off to dreamland after this.
Jessica Bailey in my bed in a sleep shirt with her tousled hair was just about the sexiest thing I’d ever seen—on or off screen.
And I was trapped here with her for God knew how long.
Fuck. Me.
Chapter Eleven
Bodyguard Code
Jessica
Was it my imagination, or had Wilder just bitten the inside of his cheek?
I’d seen the body language “tell” many times when we were younger. He’d done it whenever my dad teased him about all the girls chasing him. When he’d received award after award at our school’s senior honors night, I’d seen it again.
It meant he was uncomfortable—or stressed.
And he’d displayed the nervous tic just now when I’d invited him to join me in watching a movie in my room.
There’d been a look in his eye, too, when his gaze had run over my sleepwear and bare legs—sort of... appraising... or maybe appreciative?
My heart gave a hard thump. Had Wilderfinallynoticed me as a woman after all this time?
I snorted. All it had taken was thirteen years, a creepy stalker, being trapped together on a deserted island on the other side of the world, and Terminator 3.
Maybe hewasn’tas indifferent to me as I’d always believed. I needed to know for sure. And in spite of the horror that had precipitated this impromptu hiatus from real life, our confinement heredidprovide the perfect opportunity to find out.
But how to go about it?
Wilder was so disciplined and controlled. And while I had a reputation as a “lover and leaver” of a string of good-looking actors and musicians, I wasn’tactuallya maneater.
I wasn’t even all thatgoodwith men.
Those celebrity “relationships” had been set up by publicists. They’d consisted mostly of very public first dates and a few photo ops and had come and gone without much emotion on the part of the guys or myself.
The only one of them I’d truly liked—a super-cute member of a British boy band—had confessed he was in a secret long-term relationship with his high school sweetheart but had been ordered by his manager to keep it quiet to avoid spoiling his heartthrob status.
Having left high school early myself to work on the TV show, I hadn’t even had a high school sweetheart or even many dates.
Since then... well, my life wasn’t exactly conducive to relationships. My schedule was busy and chaotic, constantly requiring me to pack up and go from place to place for performances or publicity appearances.
There had been one short-lived relationship with one of my dancers on tour, but that had ended when I found out how manyother“relationships” he’d had while on tour—before, after andduringour brief affair.
Yuck.That certainly hadn’t helped my self-esteem—or my confidence with men.
Wilder was different. Based on our conversation earlier tonight, hewasn’tthe player I’d assumed him to be. And as far as Hap knew, he wasn’t seriously involved with anyone.
