The Bodyguard and the Rock Star by Christy Tillery French

Author:Christy Tillery French [French, Christy Tillery]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: L&L Dreamspell
Published: 2010-06-07T00:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

After the bus pulled into the parking lot behind the hotel in Jacksonville, everyone bolted, anxious to get away from Natasha’s prowling, bitching persona. They crowded through the door, spilled out onto the tarmac.

Striker lounged against his SUV, watching the activity.

Last to vacate the bus, Natasha stepped off, curious why everyone was so anxious to leave. She glanced around the lot and her eyes stopped moving when she noticed Striker leaning against his vehicle with his arms crossed, staring at her.

Her heart flew into her throat. She felt a stirring in her groin, which quickly grew hot, traveling like liquid fire to her feet. Her mouth seemed to want to curl up at both corners, so she turned away and forced a somber expression on her face.

Pretending not to see him, she walked around the side of the bus to collect her bags. When the others noticed she was heading their way, they scurried back.

“What the hell is wrong with you people?” she yelled. “Damn.”

Striker shook his head at her stubborn manner. She would ignore him till hell froze over if he didn’t make the first move. He launched himself off the SUV and crossed over to the bus. Natasha was pawing through luggage in the side compartment, her head stuck partway inside.

Striker placed an arm above her and leaned close. “You can’t ignore me forever, you know.”

Natasha hesitated, then resumed digging.

“Like that?” Striker said, in a warning tone.

Her body tensed.

He reached out with one hand and hauled her back.

She yanked her arm out of his grasp as she faced him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“I’ve been summoned.” Striker’s eyes darted a quick glance at Giki, Pit, Bigun, Lonnie, and Brad crowded together watching them.

Natasha turned and stared. They immediately shifted their faces to one another and pretended to converse.

“You bunch of cowards,” Natasha shouted.

They acted as if they didn’t hear her.

“Damn.” She slammed a fist into the side of the bus.

Striker studied her defiant stance, angry expression. He had seen Natasha at many levels of anger, but never to the point of outright bitchiness.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t have anything to say to you.” She turned back to the compartment.

He pulled her around once more. “You can make this easy or you can make this hard. It makes no difference to me. But either way, we’re going to talk.”

“Yeah? Is that so? Well, let me tell you something, Bucko. I refuse to talk to you. So easy, hard, however you want to make it, I don’t have anything to say to you or care to listen to anything you have to say to me.”

“You so sure about that?”

“Hell, yeah.”

“Fine.” With little effort, Striker picked her up and tossed her over one broad shoulder.

“Put me down!”

He ignored her as he strolled toward the hotel entrance.

She pummeled his hard-as-iron back with her fists and kicked her legs, demanding he set her on her feet. His only reaction was to wrap an arm tighter around her legs, forcing them immobile.

Striker came to a standstill and waited for her to calm down.

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