Closer: A Stage Dive Novella Page 4

  “You’d be wrong about that.”

  I said nothing.

  “I never had any trouble sleeping in Afghanistan, but as soon as I returned stateside, it just all hit me. I don’t know if it was too quiet after being over there or what. But any little sound woke me up. I’d just be lying there wide awake and on edge. And the dreams…”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Also my dad was a truck driver and Mom used to hate it when he was away. Always said she couldn’t sleep a wink.” His gaze softened. “She wasn’t weak or frail. Trust me, no one wants to cross Mom when she’s in a mood. But she liked knowing someone else was there to help out if anything went wrong, I think. That she didn’t have to face things alone.”

  “I can see that.”

  “Do you think maybe you could lie down and take an afternoon nap while I’m here?”

  I exhaled, untying the apron strings. “I suppose I could try.”

  “Good.”

  I packed up the baked goods while Ziggy went back to checking the apartment with the little black box thingy. Normally an afternoon nap was holiday behavior. A luxury item. I closed the curtains in my room and toed off my shoes. My king-size bed happened to be one of my all-time favorite places to be. Silvery gray pillows and comforter with a mattress that was to die for. I rolled onto my side and shut my eyes. Everything seemed strangely quiet. With the bedroom door closed, I couldn’t hear Ziggy’s footsteps in the main room. No taps were dripping, though the A.C. did click off and on. It wasn’t as dark as during the night, but I still felt weirdly vulnerable all curled up on my bed. Like someone was watching or something. Not a sensation I enjoyed.

  If only my brain would shut up and shut down. That would be nice. Instead, it kept regurgitating the content of those horrible disturbing emails. When I was busy, I’d mostly been able to keep it out of my head. But not now. What kind of asshole would threaten a complete stranger? After my breakup, I’d been inundated with emails from his fans calling me a disloyal frigid bitch, among other charming epithets. They threatened me with all sorts of awful things. For a while I just deleted any message sent by a stranger. People could be such trash. Generally speaking, I tried to see the good in the world and all the people contained therein. However, some people were just oxygen bandits.

  Then there was Ziggy and all he’d told me. I had so many questions about his life that I’d have loved to ask the man. If he’d talked to someone about his experiences when he got back from the Middle East. If he was okay. But we weren’t friends, no matter how cordial he’d been. I didn’t want to risk crossing any lines and having him stop talking to me. Not when he was maybe sort of starting to trust me a little.

  Oh, man. This was hopeless. I got up and trudged over to the door. It was kind of Ziggy to try and help, but it hadn’t worked. Perhaps by tonight I’d be ready to collapse into unconsciousness. Pull a Sleeping Beauty and be out for an eon or two. Sooner or later I surely had to crash. Surely.

  He was checking the locks on the glass door leading out onto the balcony. “No good?”

  “No. Thanks anyway.”

  “Go lie back down.”

  “What?”

  He set the doodad down on the kitchen counter. “I want to try something. Go and lie back down.”

  “Mr. Thayer, what exactly are you planning to do?”

  “Miss Cooper, please.”

  I huffed somewhat crankily and headed back into my bedroom. “Fine. Okay. But whatever it is, it’s not going to work.”

  “I appreciate your open mindedness.”

  “Very funny.”

  He followed me into the room, sitting in the charcoal velvet wingback against the wall. Plenty of distance away from my big bed though facing toward me. This was crazy town. And sadly, he didn’t plan on indulging in any naked shenanigans.

  “I don’t think you watching me is going to help me relax,” I said.

  “Let’s just try and see.”

  I lay down, trying to get comfortable. But tranquil and relaxed wasn’t how I felt around my current crush. Stupid libido. Why couldn’t I just respect him for his mind? So shallow of me. “Isn’t this a bit above and beyond the tenets of your position?”

  “Quiet time now.”

  “Are you telling me to shut up?”

  He sighed more heavily than any put-upon male has ever felt the need to sigh before. Truly it was mighty. “Mae. Please…”

  “Alright, alright,” I said, getting settled. “But only because you used my first name.”

  “You have to close your eyes.”

  I did as told. “Are you going to tell me a bedtime story?”

  “No.” And he said no more.

  I opened one eye, just to check on the situation. But he was sitting there, watching me in silence. What with my job and all, people staring at me happened on a regular basis. However, having this man’s full attention was something else indeed. He looked at me and I looked at him, and neither of us said anything. Apparently the man would just be waiting me out.

  Fine. Whatever.

  I closed my watchful eye and laced my fingers over my belly. No chance I’d actually fall asleep like this, no matter how tired I was. It had been a while since anyone was in my bedroom, let alone watched me sleep. Not sure if it was more of a stalker or a safety blanket move. Though I did feel protected with him there. Also weirded out in a way, but still. Ziggy carried a gun and probably knew how to Kung Fu or Muay Thai someone into oblivion, whereas I’d flunked out of boxercise. So it’s not like anyone would be getting past the man to hurt me. Right here and now I was safe.

  With nothing else to listen to, I listened to him breathe. In and out, in and out. Slow and steady. Calm and controlled. And somewhere along the line, miracle of miracles, I actually did drift off to sleep.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A knock on the door woke me. Couldn’t tell what time it was with the curtains drawn and the room mostly in darkness. But in the corner sat a large dark shadow of a man. I reached for my cell on the bedside table. No way. It said nine am. I’d slept a whole damn day. I flicked on the lamp, yawning and stretching.

  Fast asleep, Ziggy didn’t seem quite as intimidating. His head lay against the side of the chair. His long dark eyelashes rested against his face. The striking angular lines of his cheekbones were softened somehow. Stubble lined his jaw and the hint of roughness suited him big time. Across his lap lay his suitcoat along with his holster and gun. Bet he’d be up and ready to go in an instant if necessary. Surprising he hadn’t heard the knock. He must be fast asleep.

  It made my heart mushy, seeing him this way, knowing he’d stayed all night to watch over me. Or maybe he’d been exhausted and had simply crashed for an epic sleep too. Then again, maybe he was just a kind person. A bit of both, perhaps?

  The knocking came again and he stirred. I jumped out of bed and ran for the door before the noise could fully wake him, stopping to check the identity of my visitor in the peephole like a sensible person before turning off the alarm.

  “Leonard.” I smiled.

  “Morning, Miss Cooper. Got a delivery for you. It’s heavy.” He paused so I could extract the card then wandered inside carrying the mountain-sized flower arrangement. Roses, orchids, and lilies among a wealth of other flowers were spilling out all over the place in a riot of colors. “Kitchen counter okay?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “It came from a local florist and the sender is a known acquaintance of yours. Hope you don’t mind, but I felt it best to check it wasn’t the crackpot who sent you that nonsense the other day.”

  “Oh, good. That’s a relief.”

  “Also, most of the photographers from downstairs are gone.”

  My shoulders sagged. I hadn’t even registered how tightly strung my muscles were until they relaxed. “I’m very happy to hear that.”

  “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

  “You too.”

  Leonard headed back out, and I shut things up
behind him before turning to the flowers.

  “Impressive,” said Ziggy, standing in the hallway with his suitcoat back on. “You checked your peephole, ascertained the delivery’s status, and then relocked the door and reset the alarm system. That’s the security conscious mentality we’re aiming for.”

  I swallowed a bit uncomfortably. Not that I didn’t like the praise, but this was weird, waking up to him being in my home. Not bad weird. Just ever so slightly awkward. Intimate in a strange way might be the best explanation. Also, I probably looked a mess.

  “Good morning.” I braved a smile. “I didn’t expect you to stay all night.”

  “If you haven’t seen me leave, then I’ll be here. Always. Security breaches happen when the client thinks they have protection but don’t.” A shrug. “Besides, I didn’t want you to wake up alone if you had nightmares or something.”

  More of the mushy sensation invaded my heart. “Thank you. I appreciate that. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “Please.”

  I turned on the machine, which was all set to go from yesterday. No way would I ever attempt facing the A.M. without serious caffeine running through my veins. Then I opened the card and any and all good feelings faded in an instant. “Ugh. You have to be kidding me. They’re from my ex. He’s worried about me and misses me, apparently. Should have thought of that before he stuck his dick in places it didn’t belong. Wants me to call him. As if. Not today, Satan. Not tomorrow either.”

  A grunt from Ziggy standing sentry at the end of the counter.

  “Sorry. That was an overshare.” I sighed, staring at the arrangement. In days of yore there’d been a language to flowers. Meanings for each bloom. Though I’m certain there wasn’t a bloom that meant sorry I cheated on you and it got posted on You Tube. Forget-me-nots, maybe. “They’re pretty though, don’t you think? They smell divine. Would you like them for your mom perhaps? Or your girlfriend or significant other, of course. I just assumed, I never asked if…”

  He just blinked.

  “Not that it’s any of my business.”

  “Mom’s in San Francisco and I’m not seeing anyone currently. Though I appreciate the offer.”

  I popped the card in the bin. An incinerator would have been preferable, but I could make do. Leave it to the creep of an ex to go so overboard. There weren’t enough flowers in all of Oregon to convince me to make that mistake again. Like I’d ever be open to the idea after being so publicly cheated on and humiliated by the man. Not that he was a man. An amoeba, maybe. A dollop of slime on the collective shoe of humanity. Something along those lines. And unfortunately, every time I saw the flowers I’d just be reminded of his existence. Not that I wished him ill. So long as he stayed the hell away from me and didn’t attempt contact again, all would be fine and dandy.

  “You really don’t like him, huh?” asked Ziggy in a low voice.

  “Bad break-up. And that’s putting it mildly.”

  “I can get rid of them for you if you like.”

  “Actually, that would be great.”

  Ziggy nodded and picked up the Godzilla-sized arrangement. I opened the door for him. “Back in a moment, Miss Cooper.”

  “I’ll have the coffee ready and waiting.” Much better. Someone else could enjoy their bright loveliness and gorgeous scent minus the taint of he-who-is-in-the-past-and-shall-not-be-named.

  Alone for a minute, I took the opportunity to brush my teeth, run a comb through my hair, and put on some deodorant. My clothes were crumpled. But they could wait for me to be post coffee before I showered and changed.

  When he returned, he carried a black duffle in one hand and a suit bag in the other. Guess he’d fetched them from his vehicle. “Would it be all right if I used your bathroom? Otherwise I could use the one down in the building’s gym if you’d prefer?”

  “No. Please. Make yourself at home.”

  A nod and he was gone.

  Probably shouldn’t have said that. As if he’d make himself at home. The man was a professional. And he had the blank face and hard eyes look straight back in business this morning. Which was right and good. Just because you spent the night in my room (not bed) didn’t mean there would be any change in our professional relationship or business arrangement. I needed to get this man’s position in my life straight and stop overthinking everything. The bodyguard was making me a neurotic wreck.

  Coffee would fix everything. Then time for some more unpacking and a little work.

  I reached for the mug, overshot, and knocked it straight off the counter. It crashed at my feet, splattering hot liquid everywhere.

  “Shit.”

  Down the hall, the bathroom door dramatically flew open. Next Ziggy stepped out with a gun in one hand. The other hand, meanwhile, kept the towel around his waist held together. So. Much. Skin. Like seriously.

  His assessing eyes immediately took in the scene. “Are you okay, Miss Cooper?”

  “Yeah. I just…um.”

  My brain basically melted. Holy hell he was ripped. Long, lean, and built in all the ways. I mean, his suit hinted at it, but it was a little startling to see how fit the man actually was. Bet he could snap me in half with one hand. Though he’d also look delightful with a dad or a bear bod. The man carried himself so well. Also, I just enjoyed looking at him that much. Which (again) was wrong. Were I not a lapsed Catholic, I’d have been doing Hail Marys for days, thanks to the lustful thoughts this man inspired.

  What was wrong with me?

  I needed a moment to pull myself together, and I closed my eyes. Yes, much better. Without all of his hotness in my face my brain could actually function. “I’m fine. Just clumsy.”

  “Your skin is red,” he commented.

  “Oh, I’m blushing? That’s because it’s embarrassing being such a klutz,” my lying tongue lied.

  “No, your foot.”

  Then came a soft clink amongst other muted sounds. A cloth dabbed carefully at my foot. I opened my eyelids to see what was happening. Ziggy Thayer was on bended knee in front of me. His dark hair, wide shoulders, and even the long line of his spine were on display. With tea towel in hand, he wiped the hot coffee off my skin.

  “I don’t think you’re burnt.” He gazed up at me with those oh so serious eyes. He had beautiful olive skin with a couple of white scars on his back. “Does it feel okay?”

  “It feels…good. I mean fine. Yeah. No worries.”

  “Lift your foot for me.”

  “My foot?”

  “That’s right.” He waited patiently until I did as asked. Once I had one raised a little off the ground, he gripped my ankle carefully with one hand, wiping the drops of coffee off my skin with the other. His hand was warm, the pads of his fingers slightly rough. Once done, he tapped lightly on the toes of my other foot to signal it was up and repeated the procedure.

  All I could do was stare. He did the job with such care, so gentle yet thorough. The man made my skin tingle, especially my crotch. Even my boyfriend from a few years back with the mild foot fetish had never turned me on this much. Did the bodyguard even know the effect he had on me? The outline of my nipples through the thin material of my shirt certainly didn’t qualify as coy. Sheesh. Clients throwing themselves at him probably happened all of the time. After all, his job description basically involved turning up and taking charge at the precise moment someone was at their most vulnerable. And being super-buff, apparently. Recipe for lust. Didn’t mean I needed to be crass or improper.

  “Thank you for that, Ziggy. Much appreciated.”

  “Take a step back and I’ll clean up the broken pieces so you don’t cut yourself.”

  “You’re not my housekeeper,” I said. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Again, he just waited until I complied. It was so strange, having him tend to me, having someone look after me like this. Carefully, he proceeded to gather up all of the broken pieces and place them in the tea towel. When he rose to his feet, towering over me, I searched his face for some
thing. Some hint of emotion. I found nothing, though it seemed there was heat radiating from his skin. Either that or I was blushing again. Damn inconvenient habit.

  “I’ll take that,” I said. “Thanks again.”

  He nodded and gave me the damp package before heading back to the bathroom without another word. And I stood there like an idiot all dazed and confused, watching him go. As if I could do anything else with him walking around my apartment half naked.

  Perhaps I should take Lena up on her offer of a blind date. I might need to give it more thought. Who knows, maybe a man even more divine than Ziggy was out there right now, waiting for me. Someone who didn’t come with pesky concerns for professional cordiality. In the meantime, cleaning up the rest of the spillage and a nice cold shower seemed like a great idea.

  “He gave the box along with five dollars to one of the regular delivery guys as he was walking inside,” she said.

  Ziggy, Sarah from reception, and I stood gathered around the reception desk. Another bland brown box sat there with a label bearing my name. She’d called up no more than five minutes before, asking if we were available to come down. And it wasn’t so she could deliver good news.

  “We got him on the security cameras, but he was wearing all black clothing and a motorcycle helmet,” continued Sarah. “No distinguishing features that I could see.”

  I peeled back the packing tape. “We need to make sure.”

  “Detective Ortega will be over in an hour or so,” said Ziggy, sliding his cell back into his pocket. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait?”

  “Just in case. She’s a busy woman, I don’t want to waste her time.”

  “At least let me open it.”

  “I can do it. I’ll be fine. It’s my mess, after all.”

  He didn’t look happy, but he didn’t stop me. He just hovered next to me, close by, and I could almost feel his muscles quivering like a sprinter at the starting gate, ready to react. Nobody said anything as I carefully pried open the cardboard box. It felt like there were ants crawling over my skin. Someone walking over my grave, maybe. Because sure enough, stinky rust brown-stained material lay folded inside. My stomach twisted and turned. A shriveled piece of raw meat sat amongst it all. Another heart, perhaps? Whatever it was, it was disgusting. Deranged.