“Bullshit!” he replied.
“No, for real. I am telling you the truth.”
“I’m not convinced, but I’m glad to see Ry’s got a smoking-hot girlfriend.”
“Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I remembered a funny story Ryan told me about Matt. “Okay, how is this for convincing? Sitting under a car cover in his dad’s garage is a 2008
Shelby GT500, blue with silver stripes. You beg him every time you see him to let you drive it but he won’t let you because you have a habit of
flipping cars. You’re the only guy he knows that could flip their mom’s station wagon.”
“Hah!” He laughed out loud. “Is he there? Let me talk to him!”
“You believe me now?” I chuckled. “No, he’s not. He is on set.” I explained that I wanted him and Scott to come to the surprise party.
I called Kelly next. I needed a devious plan to get the entire cast to my place for Ryan’s birthday. She said she’d get word to the director through
Cal.
The last call I made, which I purposely saved for last, was to a lawyer in Providence.
“I have to be on set at that time, Honey, so you’ll have to go to the lawyer without me,” Ryan said when he called me at lunchtime. “Unless you
can change the appointment to another time when I can go?”
“No, that’s okay. I can go by myself. I’ll take care of it. The lawyer said that both of us don’t need to be there.”
“You won’t be going anywhere by yourself,” he stated with authority. “The Security Company is sending someone over now. They told me
somebody should be there this afternoon. I’ll see you tonight.”
A few moments later the pub doorbell rang. I ran downstairs expecting to find an older, father type bodyguard, but instead there was a FedEx
deliveryman at my door. He handed me a letter-size package addressed to Taryn L. Mitchell. It was from a bank in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.
I tore open the zip tape; inside was another envelope that contained a new platinum credit card with Taryn L. Mitchell, Shell-B Enterprises
embossed on it. My face twisted in anger as I tossed the package onto the kitchen table. Ryan and I would definitely have a discussion about this
one when he got home.
It was almost two o’clock when my doorbell rang again. This time there was an unbelievably gorgeous young man standing at my door. He was
wearing a black leather jacket, blue jeans, and silver-rimmed Oakley sunglasses. He had Heath Ledger’s face and Vin Diesel’s body, with sandy
blond hair. I was tempted to rub my eyes. Part of my brain was already burning in Hell.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Mitchell? I’m Kyle Trent, Protection Services.” He held his hand out to greet me.
“Hi. It’s nice to meet you. Come in. Please, call me Taryn.” I swallowed hard when he unzipped his jacket. The scent of his leather jacket and
cologne permeated the air. I noticed that his chest was chiseled underneath his fitted black T-shirt and he was wearing a concealed pistol under his
right armpit. Why couldn’t the Security Company send me an old guy? Holy shit, he’s young and gorgeous. This is not good.
We sat at the large table in the middle of the pub to have our first meeting. Kyle told me that he was a third degree black belt, a weapons
specialist, and a trainer within his agency. I tried to stay engaged in the conversation, but my mind kept on wandering. I found myself staring at his
lips.I informed him of my current situation, filling him in on the necessary details about the celebrity I was dating and our unwanted stalker. I showed
him a picture of Angelica.
Kyle was very easy to talk to. He told me that he lives just on the other side of Providence in a small town in Massachusetts, so it didn’t take him
very long to drive here.
He did an inspection of the pub, familiarizing himself with the layout, security systems, and exits. We ended with a tour of the apartment.
It felt awkward – almost like I was committing a sin – to have Kyle in my apartment. Ryan had hired him, so it wasn’t like I found this totally
gorgeous man on my own and invited him up for a cup of coffee, but something still gnawed at my gut. It could only be guilt that tormented me; guilt
for allowing my eyes to look at another man. I had to get him out of my apartment – fast.
Several female fans were already waiting outside on my sidewalk, but I wasn’t going to open until Cory and his roommate, Trevor showed up. I
introduced the guys to my new bodyguard and filled them in on why Kyle was hired. Cory looked at me oddly and then shook his head. I wondered if
he was worried about our stalker, but soon the meaning behind his attitude became more evident when he hand-carried three new cases of beer
out to the bar, flexing his arm muscles along the way.
Trevor took a seat at the front door to ID everyone who came into the pub. Sure enough, half a dozen girls walked into the bar. It upset me to see
that Ryan’s fans just didn’t know when to quit.
Marie stopped abruptly and gasped when she saw my new bodyguard for the first time. “You are so screwed,” she whispered at me in passing.
Her eyes flickered over at Kyle, who was sitting at the edge of the bar, keeping watch like a hawk.
“I know. Ryan is not going to be happy when he sees him,” I whispered.
“How old is he?” Marie asked.
“He told me he’s twenty nine,” I muttered privately.
“Married?”
I shook my head no.
It was a few minutes after nine when my cell phone played Ryan’s ringtone in my pocket. “He’s home now,” I said to Marie.
Ryan, of course, wanted to meet my new protector. We all met downstairs in the pub kitchen. Just as I had suspected, Ryan morphed from being
happy to be home to jealous and pissed in an instant.
I hugged and kissed Ryan quickly when he came through the door. I purposely did this in front of Kyle with the intent to send a message to both
men exactly where my loyalties lie. I tucked my fingers into Ryan’s back pocket and held on to him the whole time that we talked to Kyle.
After our meeting, I took Ryan by the hand and we went upstairs to have dinner together in our apartment. He was quiet… too quiet, and I knew
him well enough to know why. I stood up and repositioned myself on his lap, straddling him to get his full attention. That made a smile appear on his
lips.I took his face in my hands and kissed him sensually on his cheek. “How was your day?”
“It was all right,” he muttered.
I knew he was lying. I gave him a smirk to let him know I wasn’t buying it.
He pursed his lips. “I kept messing up my lines. I had a hard time concentrating today.” He shook his head in disgust.
My hands massaged his shoulders. “Today is over. Put it behind you. Things will be better tomorrow, you’ll see,” I whispered in his ear.
He gave me a brief smile, his shoulders slumped in defeat. He ran his warm hands over my back.
I found myself getting aroused by trying to get him in a better mood. I nibbled his ear. He let out a pleasurable moan.
His hands slid forward over my ribs; his thumbs rubbed over my breasts. My body instantly tingled from his touch.
“Mr. Christensen,” I murmured on his lips, “your presence is requested in the bedroom.”
He smiled before locking his lips to mine.
Twenty minutes later I resumed my position behind the bar with a smug smile on my face. When I left Ryan, he still had his jeans wrapped
around his left ankle and he was lying flat on his back on the bed.
I was pleasantly surprised when Ryan came down to the pub a little while later. He was wearing my tattered Mitchell’s Pub baseball hat and a
satisfied grin. It pleased me to see him wearing another one of my possessions.
He took a seat next to Kyle and never took his eyes off of me for the rest of the night. Kyle stopped every girl that stepped up to Ryan and