Free The Bodyguard and Ms. Jones by Susan Mallery

listened. “Uh-huh. No, it’s going fine. He hasn’t been any trouble. He’s right here. Why don’t you talk to him yourself?”
    He took the phone. As usual, before he could say hello, Grace was off and running.
    â€œMichael? Are you okay? I called last week, but Cindy said you were pretty out of it. If I’d known you were hurt that badly, I would have stayed home. When I visited you in the hospital, you made it sound like a scratch.”
    He eyed the outline of the bandage visible through his jeans. “It is a scratch. It just happens to go through to the other side.”
    â€œEeewww, that’s gross.” He could picture Grace wrinkling her nose. His sister looked nothing like him. She was short and blond, with bright blue eyes. He didn’t care that they had different fathers or that she was almost ten years younger than he. She was the closest thing to family that he had. Being around Cindy and her kids made him realize that was important.
    â€œAre you being nice to Cindy?” Grace asked.
    â€œOf course. I’m very polite.” He glanced at the subject of their conversation. She was pulling out bread and luncheon meat for sandwiches.
    â€œThat’s not what I mean and you know it. She’s very sweet and she deserves better than being dumped by her husband. So look out for her. Also, don’t hide out all the time. Go outside. Sit in the sun.”
    â€œIt’s nearly a hundred degrees here,” he reminded her. “The humidity is almost as high.”
    â€œStop whining. I’m just saying you shouldn’t stay in the house alone all the time. My friends are going to be checking on you. Be nice.”
    The doorbell rang. Cindy left the kitchen.
    â€œI’m going to want a full report when I get back,” Grace said.
    â€œFrom me or your friends?”
    She laughed. “Both. By the way, what do you think of Cindy?”
    The curiosity in her tone belied the casualness of the question.
    â€œGrace,” he growled.
    â€œShe’s very pretty,” she went on, ignoring him. “Smart, a great mother. I think you’ll like her.”
    â€œShe’s amazingly virtuous,” Mike agreed. “But I’m too old to be set up with one of your friends. I’m fine. Go back to your husband and run his life.”
    â€œMike!”
    â€œSay goodbye, Grace.”
    â€œI’ll call next week. I love you. Bye.”
    With that, the line went dead. He stared at the portable phone for several seconds before pushing the off button. She always said the same thing at the end of every conversation.
    â€œI love you.”
    How easily she spoke the words. As if saying them was simple. As if the thought of love was something she could grasp.
    He stood up and limped to the wall, then hung up the phone. He wondered if Cindy knew Grace was matchmaking. Not that it was going to make a difference. Cindy wasn’t his type. Hell, he didn’t have a type.
    Cindy walked into the kitchen and handed him a business card. He glanced at the small pink card and frowned. “What’s this?”
    â€œMary Ellen is our local representative for this line of cosmetics.” She pointed to the gold-embossed name curling across the card. “Her company has just started a line of men’s skin-care products, and she stopped by to offer you a free facial.”
    â€œWhy?”
    Cindy returned to the refrigerator and pulled out jars of mayonnaise and mustard. “You’re a single, good-looking guy, and Mary Ellen is...” She looked at him. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t recommend turning my back on her if I were you.”
    He tossed the card on the table as if it had burned him. “This is a scary place.”
    â€œSorry, Mike. You’d better get used to it. Face it, you’re about the most exciting thing to happen around here since they filmed a toilet-paper commercial at the local grocery store.