Free Barefoot With a Bodyguard by Roxanne St. Claire Page A

rules of the cover.”
    “Gah! Rules! I hate these stinkin’ rules.” She pushed past him, fury shooting through her. “The killer has rules,” she muttered.
    He stepped to the side and blocked her way, glaring down at her, so close she could count the navy flecks in his eyes even though they tapered in disgust.
    Disgust ? He had a lot of nerve.
    “You don’t have all the facts, counselor.”
    “I have enough.” She wanted to turn away, wanted to do a nice pivot to a dramatic exit, but he held her with just the power of his look.
    “I was in the Marines. In war. The men I killed were terrorists, insurgents, and jihadists. I killed them to save my comrades.”
    She stared at him. “I assumed…”
    “The worst,” he supplied.
    For some reason, some indescribably bizarre reason, that nearly folded her heart in half. She had assumed he was some kind of hardened killer, not a hero. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping her voice conveyed that she really meant it.
    “What you need to be sorry for is calling a friend.”
    “I didn’t tell her where I was.”
    “Florida?” he challenged.
    “It’s a big state,” she said.
    “An island?”
    “You were listening?”
    “The door was partly open.”
    Huffing out a breath, she stepped away. “I’m taking a walk around the resort.”
    He put his hand on her shoulder, a huge, hot, masculine hand that tripled her pulse the moment he touched her.
    “You’re not going anywhere without your husband, Tilly.”
    She narrowed her eyes at him, ire rising at the all-too-familiar feeling of having lost a fight to a stronger man. “Then get some shoes on, because I’m leaving in thirty seconds, Benjamin .”
    *
    Alec kept his left arm around Kate, his right hand in his pocket, scanning the resort grounds from under a ball cap and behind sunglasses, hoping he looked like a groom on his honeymoon and not a bodyguard on high alert.
    Venturing out for the first time since he’d stepped foot on the resort was a strange sensation, but holding a woman possessively—a beautiful woman who seemed to shiver when he touched her—was beyond strange. Even though he suspected the physical was more because she would rather be anywhere, with anyone, than here with him, taking ownership of her felt…different. Good, even.
    “So, where did you fight?”
    He glanced down at her, not sure if she meant martial arts or the war. “No,” he said quietly, leaning closer. “Tilly and Benjamin Carlson, remember?”
    “Oh, yeah.” She sighed, looking at the beach as they meandered down the path. “That’s the main building?” She pointed to a three-story structure with wide columns and high archways and sharp-looking doormen all around.
    “According to the pamphlet in the villa, that’s the lobby and stores, plus a spa called Eucalyptus and a restaurant, Junonia, which is apparently named after a rare seashell you can find here. Behind it is a pool and deck overlooking the beach.”
    She laughed softly. “You really did study that pamphlet.”
    “Out of sheer boredom.”
    “And you didn’t come over here to see it all?”
    He shook his head. “I couldn’t be seen without you three weeks before we got here for our honeymoon. I did run a few times at dawn or after nightfall, but I haven’t ventured into the hotel or restaurant. Nowhere in daylight.”
    “Like a good nocturnal animal.”
    “Like a rat,” he agreed.
    She glanced up at him. “Hey, I really am sorry about before. About the phone call and making assumptions about your past.”
    “S’okay.” Then he smiled. “Is this your version of tapping out?”
    “What is that?”
    He patted her shoulder three times. “Tapping the mat or your opponent is how you signal that you’ve had enough and don’t want to fight anymore. Though some bastards like to get one last yank on an elbow or knee in a direction nature didn’t intend.”
    She curled her lip. “Has that happened to you?”
    “Rarely,” he said. “But that’s