Lake Bittersweet

Chapter 1-2

Which, she considered, was probably a very good thing in a fake head of security.

“So far, you’ve said twice as many words as I have,” she pointed out.

He stared at her for a long moment. It was the kind of look she didn’t experience very often—if ever. Penetrating, direct, seemingly unconcerned with her outer appearance, more about deciphering whatever was underneath.

“Good point,” he finally said. “I’ll hold off on the headphones. Are you coming out? The doors are about to close. They stay open for exactly six-point-two seconds.”

She quickly stepped off the elevator, just as the doors slid together behind her. “You must be Special Agent Earl Granger.”

He seemed to wince slightly at the sound of his name. “Just call me Granger.”

“Granger. I’m Bliss Gault.” She offered her hand. He took it for a quick handshake. She watched her hand completely disappear inside his huge brown one. He shook it gently enough, even though she could feel the massive strength he held back. He wore a black thermal that hugged his muscles, and dark olive-drab pants. “Thanks for agreeing to play my bodyguard.”

“Head of security.”

She smiled at the correction. “Of course. Call it whatever you want. It’s not real anyway.” The truth was, the idea of having someone follow her around all the time, even for her safety, gave her hives. She was at heart an introvert, despite her carefree facade.

“That remains to be seen.”

She widened her eyes at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“If you need a fake bodyguard, that probably means you need a real bodyguard. Why else would you need a fake one?”

She put on her flakiest, Bliss-iest smile. “O.M.G., that’s such a good point! The thing is, all my model friends have bodyguards, they’re like, the hot new thing.”

“So I’m…what, trendy?” The muted horror in his voice nearly made her break character.

“Heck yes, our selfies are going to be fire. I hope you like going viral on Insta.” She brushed past him, which was kind of like dodging around the face of a cliff. He didn’t budge, not one bit. “I assume you’ve already chosen a bedroom.”

“Yes, but I can move if need be, Blondie.”

What the…

He must be trying to get under her skin for some reason.

“You can call me Bliss.”

“I figured I’d call you ‘Blondie’ when you’re doing that.” He waved vaguely at her.

“Doing what?”

“Acting like you want people to think you’re an idiot.”

She bristled. “Blonds aren’t idiots. Intelligence is in no way related to hair color.”

“I agree. Don’t know why you’re playing into the stereotype, but that’s your call. I also know that you aren’t on Instagram.”

“You checked out my socials? Is that really necessary for a short-term fake head of security gig?” She realized that she’d lost her fake smile in the middle of this conversation.

“Of course I did. I’m FBI.” His face softened, just a bit, enough to make her wonder what he was like underneath that gruff facade. “I’m grateful to have a place to stay. Everything else was booked up.”

“You don’t need to move. I’m sure both bedrooms are just fine.”

“Very down-to-earth of you. Appreciate it.”

Oh, no doubt, he was definitely trying to get under her skin.

He stepped back and ushered her toward the open door on the other side of the hallway. The hall was wallpapered in a gold fleur-de-lis pattern that seemed to insist that this was the fanciest floor of the whole gosh-darn hotel.

The suite had the same vibe of trying to look fancy while not forgetting its roots—there was an antique mahogany wardrobe, a low-slung Italian leather couch in creamy beige, all overlooked by an oil painting of a loon on Lake Bittersweet. The bird wore a look of astonishment as a fish slipped out of its beak.

She liked the suite. That loon alone gave it more humanness than some five-star hotels. She wondered if someone local had painted it. Lake Bittersweet was home to a few artists who sold their work to tourists and tourist-oriented establishments.

She looked for evidence of Granger’s presence, and saw only a laptop on the coffee table and a pair of loafers sitting by the doorway.

That pleased her too. She liked orderliness, but was constitutionally unable to achieve it herself. She tried, but somehow things seemed to just go rogue around her. Clothing would slide off hangers, magazines would end up with coffee rings on their covers, mail would spend weeks hiding out under couches. Eventually she’d hired a cleaning woman, but she’d felt incredibly guilty about it and apologized nonstop during her first session.

Finally poor Adriana had told her to please be quiet and let her do her job, and if Bliss felt that bad about it, she should just pay her more. Bliss had laughed and given her a big raise on the spot.

Adriana would approve of Granger. Granger, on the other hand, was not going to be happy when he saw how Bliss managed things. Maybe she should beg Adriana to come to Lake Bittersweet and sneak in and tidy up when Granger was out of the room.

The idea was so absurd that Bliss smiled to herself.

She caught a sidelong glance from Granger, and realized it was the first time he’d looked at her as if he was actually noticing her exterior, and appreciating it.

It was a good feeling, having Granger look at her that way. He was so very…impassive. Unflappable.

Experimentally, she added more firepower to her smile. The words of an early photographer came back to her. He was a pervy guy who’d tried to kiss her when she was only fifteen, but still, she’d never forgotten the direction he’d given her during the shoot that had launched her career.

You’re seductive. You’re flirting. You’re drawing me in. You’re making me want to be part of your world. You ARE the world. Seduce me, baby. Seduce me.

You’re seductive. You’re flirting. You’re drawing me in. You’re making me want to be part of your world. You ARE the world. Seduce me, baby. Seduce me.“What are you doing?” Granger’s frown chased away the words flitting through her mind.

Her smile dropped. “What do you mean?”

“You were up to something just now, with that smile.”

“No. Just…I was just thinking about something.”

“Talking to yourself in an empty elevator again?”

She clenched her back teeth together. Why did this man have to catch her in so many awkward moments? “I guess you could say that.”

“Well, just for the record, you don’t need to practice any of your million-dollar smiles on me.”

“Okay…I mean, I wasn’t practicing anything. I already know how to execute a million-dollar smile.”

His face cracked in a slight smile of his own. “I’m sure you do. I’m just pointing out that they don’t work on me.”

“What doesn’t work on you?”

“Seductions.”

She blinked at him. How on earth had he picked up on the exact word she used to psych herself up for a shoot? “I wasn’t trying to seduce you. I never will try to seduce you, I can promise you that.”

“Good. Because as I told Kirk, I’m not remaking The Bodyguard. That movie is perfect as it is. And we wouldn’t be a good fit,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

The Bodyguard“Okay.” She shrugged and offered him a sunny smile. Why should she care if they were a good fit or not? No one would guess it, but she kept men at a very careful distance. Should she mention that The Bodyguard was one of her favorite movies? Maybe not.

The Bodyguard“Not that you’re not beautiful, because clearly you are. But FBI agent and hippie-chick don’t really work. I’m sure you feel the same.”

Was she a hippie-chick? She looked down at her outfit. She hadn’t even taken her coat off, so why would he think she was a hippie-chick? Her cloak was more Heidi than hippie. But she did have a string of crystal beads in her hair.

Whatever. She flashed Granger a peace sign—sarcasm intended—and headed toward the unclaimed bedroom.