Free The Socialite and the Bodyguard by Dana Marton

with Tsini, the hem of her skirt barely reaching midthigh. Her toned legs went on forever. His muscles tightened. He’d been in a state of semiarousal since he’d set foot in her apartment. She was enough of a woman to push any man over the edge.
    Except him. Not him. He wasn’t going to go there, no sir. She was a client. He as much as laid a finger on her and Welkins would have his head—or some other, more sensitive body part—on a platter. He’d definitely never work in private security again.
    He needed to focus on the job.
    “Must be frustrating to work for someone like her,” he remarked to Fisk. “You want to take her as far as possible and she doesn’t want to go. Is that what agents call a nightmare client?”
    “Nah, man.” Fisk laughed. “She’s the best. She’s my favorite. Down-to-earth, good head on her shoulders. She’s plenty big as it is. More wouldn’t make her happier. You know what I mean?”
    There wasn’t an ounce of animosity in the guy’s tone or body language. And he didn’t have much of a motive, either. If Fisk resented that Kayla didn’t bring in enough money because she held back, killing her would have earned him even less. And the murder of her parents and older brother wouldn’t have made any sense whatsoever.
    “There’s a guy over there that I need to talk to.” Fisk was waving again at someone over the crowd. “You keep an eye on my girls.” “That’s why I’m here.” And not to look at Kayla’s assets, he reminded himself, taking his gaze elsewhere. Then he nearly blew his top as she sent Dave off on some errand.
    “So we agree that your life is in danger and you send Dave off. How smart is that?” He came up next to her.
    “I still have you and Tsini.”
    Damn right, she did. He scanned the room for her staff, for anyone else who might be watching, maybe an outsider who had paid off one of the staff to take that picture. Still not having a good handle on that bugged him to hell.
    “Hang on to these, I’m going to try on that top.” She handed him the big pink shoulder bag that carried Tsini’s accessories. Then she gave him the end of the dog’s pink leash. The leather was covered in sparkles.
    Before he could protest, she was taking a skimpy shirt from a vendor’s table and stepping into a makeshift changing booth.
    “I don’t want you out of sight,” he called after her.
    “You can see my feet under the curtain.”
    Yes, he could. But he still had half a mind to go in there after her. Especially as the people who walked by gave him the once-over. Some smiled, some gave him come-hither looks. And not just the women! Man, oh, man, he needed to get out of here. He needed a smoky bar, a big cigar and a tumbler of twelve-year-old malt in his hand. He wanted a big-screen TV with a game on in the corner and a woman on his lap.
    But even as he thought that, it was Kayla Landon’s face and tempting body that flashed into his mind. Tsini gave him a questioning look as he swore under his breath.
“It’s not easy being a man,” he told her. “You wouldn’t understand.”
    Kayla popped out of the changing booth just then. The top she had on sported a winking dog outlined in glitter. He’d known her long enough now and was a good enough judge of character to know that she wasn’t a bimbo. But she definitely dressed like one and acted like one in public. Did she need attention that badly?
    “What do you think?” She tilted her head.
    The white fabric was so sheer he could practically see her nipples. Hell, he could practically taste them. Predictably, his body responded.
    “Or would you prefer the black?”
    He would have preferred to get the hell out of there. “This one’s fine.” His voice came out thicker than he’d intended.
    “Fine?” Kayla seemed disappointed as she pulled back behind the curtain.
    She was out in another minute or two, back in her own top that was just as provocative as the one she’d just taken off. Nash