Free Muscle for Hire by Lexxie Couper Page A

there, with the exception the icepack he’d used earlier on his Rowan-punched balls was nowhere to be seen, and the bottle of water Chris had been drinking from was no longer sitting on the small table.
    Tilly, no doubt.
    Three lamps threw soft yellow light around the space, causing shadows to leap and dance over the walls as Aslin moved deeper into the trailer.
    His gut clenched some more.
    Off. It felt off.
    But there’s nothing wrong here, boyo.
    There wasn’t. But that didn’t make him feel any less on edge.
    A noise behind him told him Rowan had followed him inside. “I’ll just grab my bag and we can go,” she said as he turned to face her. “Tilly gave me everything else I need.”
    He watched her scoop her backpack up from the trailer’s luxurious leather sofa and hook its straps over her over shoulders. Even in such a simple action, her body moved with fluid strength. He couldn’t help but be impressed. If he had a checklist of every attribute his woman should have, Rowan Hemsworth met them all.
    Christ, what are you, Rhodes? A caveman?
    He wasn’t. He was intelligent, educated and level-headed. But everything about Rowan—everything—brought out a primitive male response in him. The kind that wanted nothing more than to snare a fistful of her hair, drag her back to his cave and claim her as his mate. Solely his mate. And heaven help anyone who wanted to argue with him about that fact.
    “Ready?”
    Rowan studied him. If she was aware how close he was to slamming the door shut and throwing her on the bed, she didn’t show it.
    He inclined his head.
    A security guard met them as they were exiting the trailer, a torch beam drilling into Aslin’s eyes. Rowan flashed her Dead Even film set pass at him a second before the man apologized and directed the light at their feet.
    “Do you have a pass, sir?”
    Aslin pulled his own pass from his back pocket and held it out to the guard.
    The man bathed the plastic I.D. card in white light for a moment. “Thanks, Mr. Rhodes,” he said, lifting his scrutiny to Aslin’s face. “Don’t forget to check in with the gate guard when you leave.”
    “Is there a problem?”
    The guard shook his head. “Just the normal over-zealous fans trying to get at Chris Huntley. We busted a fairly determined woman earlier this afternoon trying to con her way in. She said she was with the catering firm.” He chuckled. “Staggers me the lengths these women will go to. The old duck would have had more chance if she wasn’t wearing a Twice Too Many T-shirt.”
    Aslin’s nerve-endings fired. He narrowed his eyes. “Did she have red hair? Obviously dyed?”
    The guard nodded. “Yep, that’s the one. Real charmer she was. Never heard so many swear words come out of the mouth of a woman before, and I’ve worked security at a Nick Blackthorne concert.” He made a snorting sound. “Now there’s some seriously zealous fans. I had to save the guy’s girlfriend years ago when a group of squealing women turned on her during the show.” He shook his head again. “Insane. Just insane.”
    “Wow,” Rowan spoke beside Aslin. “Didn’t Blackthorne’s bodyguard protect her?”
    “Not during the show, he didn’t.” The guard pulled a face. “But I’ve never been convinced about these celebrity bodyguards. They all carry on like they’re invincible. Reckon one hard punch and they’d be out like a light.”
    “I think you’re right,” Rowan agreed. Aslin didn’t need to look at her to know she was trying not to laugh. “I suspect they are a bunch of pussies.” She paused, a prickling heat on his profile telling him she wasn’t looking at the guard anymore. He slid his gaze to her, the laughter in her eyes making his stomach clench. “Pussies in designer leather jackets, of course.”
    “Hell, yeah.” The guard snorted. “Wonder what they’d be like in a real fight? Too worried about getting their clothes damaged, I reckon.” He shook his head, as if disgusted