Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 645(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
“Look after her,” my father says.
“She’s in safe hands.” Sharp flicks a strange look down to his big hands and turns them over.
I’m compelled to grab them and trace every single one of the many lines on his palms. In safe hands. One of his hands felt very safe wrapped around mine, so I can only imagine how safe I’d feel with his whole body enveloped around me.
Who is this Jake Sharp? I find my muscles going lax, my body melting into the chair. I might stop by Dad’s office more often if this man is now on his payroll.
Maybe Dad’s replacing Pete or Grant. Maybe he’s realized that he needs speed and agility rather than pumped-up muscle. Maybe…
My train of thought drifts to nothing as Dad’s words come back to me. Look after her.
I’m standing before I know it, but my legs don’t seem quite ready to support my weight. I stagger right into Sharp, colliding with his tall frame. He doesn’t budge, remaining tall and stable. His only detectable movements are stealthy arms that come up fast and catch me.
“Careful now,” he murmurs softly, handling me with ease until I’m steady on my own two feet again. “Okay?” He looks at me, but gives me nothing.
I immediately miss the warmth of his broad chest. He is just about the most perfect man I’ve ever seen, and that’s an achievement, given I’ve had shoots with more beautiful men than I care to remember. But he’s a man. A proper man—big, strong, mature. The crisp, stark-white collar of his shirt and perfectly knotted grey tie can’t conceal the primal energy practically thrumming from him.
Oh God!
I fight some composure and turn to my father. “What do you mean, look after her?” I ask.
“I’ve hired Sharp to watch you,” he explains. Sharp coughs next to me, and Dad rushes to rephrase that. “He’s your bodyguard for the foreseeable future. The best protection money can buy.”
“Excuse me?” I splutter. “He—” I throw an arm out in the general direction of Sharp, and my hand collides with his solid bicep, having me retract in shock. Fucking hell, he’s like Action Man. “He’s my bodyguard?”
“Yes.” My father nods decisively.
“No.” I laugh, looking up at Sharp. “No offense intended.”
“None taken,” he replies, completely unfazed, like he fully expected to be subjected to this little family drama. I look away, unable to focus on him for too long for fear of bursting into lusty flames.
Dad’s face is tight with the frustration that’s been absent since I arrived. “Camille Logan, this isn’t up for debate. I’ve hired Sharp to protect you, and you will not be difficult about it!”
“I’m a grown woman,” I say calmly, holding onto the temper that’s dying to be unleashed. “I have a busy schedule—modeling contracts to fulfill, meetings to attend.”
The dismissive huff that my father releases does what it always does when he shows such disregard for my career. “You mean looking pretty for the camera?”
“And negotiating a deal on my new fashion line,” I add, reining my temper in. “And getting it off the ground, and building my profile outside of my modeling career.”
“Camille, how many times have I got to tell you?” My father sighs. “You and that silly friend of yours are wasting your time. There are plenty of fashion brands out there already.”
I grit my teeth. He just doesn’t get it. “Then one more won’t hurt, will it?” I flick my eyes to the hulking man standing next to me. “I doubt Mr. Sharp will appreciate having to endure the simplicities of my pointless career.”
Sharp looks out the corner of his eye to me. “I endure what I need to.”
“How’s your runway walk?” I ask seriously. Let’s see if he’s aware of what he’ll be subjected to. “Maybe I could use you in a campaign.” I can tell by the slight hitch of his eyebrow what he thinks of that. Good.
“Maybe you can give me a tutorial.” His face is suddenly as serious as mine. “Since you’re the expert.”
“Are you offering?”
“Are you asking?”
I only just hold back my gawk. He’s being sarcastic. I huff to myself. Two can play that game. “Strike a pose.”
“If you’re lucky,” he says quietly, straightening his shoulders.
I clamp my lips shut, rummaging through the corners of my muddled mind for a smart retort. “I think you’d look good in a skirt.”
“I’m told I have great legs.”
My damn eyes plummet to his legs. Long, powerful legs with thick thighs. I drop my gaze to the floor quickly. How did this happen? Why am I engaging with him?
I shoot a glare back to my dad. “I don’t want or need a bodyguard following me around randomly.”
Sharp shifts next to me, clearing his throat. “It won’t be random,” he states evenly, looking down at me again. “It’ll be constant.”