3.30.11
"Well, Ms. Smith," he smiled, trying to lighten the mood with the office joke. She rolled her eyes.
"Get to it, Grainger."
"Right." He cleared his throat. "I called you in my office today because I have a new assignment for you. Your skills with self defense, crowd control, social events, and work ethics will be of great use in this case. It's two weeks long. Here are the details." Grainger pushed his thick glasses up his fat, stubby nose with one hand while the other pushed the open manila folder towards Esmeralda. Or, as she preferred, Esme. She sat in the uncomfortable, barely padded metal chair and looked over the thin file herself. Twenty five year old male, celebrity of high status, therefore, risk. He would be in town for the length of her assignment on a project. There was no picture. Six one, green eyes, brown, medium length hair. Foreigner. The corner of her mouth turned down. "Now, Esmeralda, another reason I chose you for this assignment is because I need a little extra from you, for a little extra cash, of course-"
She glanced up at her boss. "More than my usual rate?"
"Yes. Almost twice. Here's the deal. Besides for your usual duties as his personal security guard, you'll also have to act as a sort of "deflector"." He just used air quotations. Shit. This isn't good. So she mimicked him.
""Deflector"?"
He coughed uncomfortably. "See," he picked up his pen and began to push the cap off and push it back on with his thumb. Esme could see beads of sweat form along his non-existent hairline."Esmeralda." He took a deep breath. This couldn't be good. "Our new client, well, because of his "status", there will be a few- what do I call them-" his dull brown eyes searched his desk as if the word he needed would be there. "There will be a few- admirers." He nodded. "This is where you would need to "deflect". That's the best I'm able to describe. You'll see for yourself soon enough." He cleared his throat, then dug in his pocket for a hankie and mopped his forehead, as if talking that much was too big of an effort for his overweight body. It probably was. Esme snickered to herself inwardly. So far, she wasn't worried about her new assignment, but then, she felt like she was going into this severely under informed. She wondered who this guy was. Was it that, that had her boss sweating profusely? "You'll be taking the company car- the Mercedes, and pick him up from the airport. His flight lands in forty five minutes."
"Shit Grainger! Forty five minutes?! Thanks for the time to prepare."
"I'm sorry! It was absolutely last minute. I literally was faxed the contract a half hour ago. This is all I got." He motioned to the folder open on the metal desk. "Are you done? I have somewhere I needed to be ten minutes ago."
"Yes. Be careful, and remember your job."
She stood up, rolling her caramel colored eyes, and snatched the folder off the desk. "I'll keep you updated."
Grainger dropped the keys into her outstretched waiting hand, and nodded. As he watched her leave his office, he silently prayed she wasn't in over her head, but he knew she was. Just not in the job department.
She stormed down the stairs, grabbed her coat off the back of her chair, her purse out of her desk drawer, and shut down her computer. She grabbed her holster and strapped it on, and made her way to the elevator. As she waited, she fished her compact out of her purse and powdered her nose and forehead. Stepping into the elevator, she touched up her mascara, slightly smeared eyeliner, and reapplied her red lipstick. As the elevator doors opened with a ding, she stepped into the parking garage, and jogged to the Mercedes a few stalls down and got in. She checked her makeup a final time, then threw the car in reverse and peeled out of the garage. Following the instructions in the file, she flashed her security clearance badges a couple times when needed, and found her designated location. There was a stream of people exiting a set of doors across the street from her, and her curiosity began to stir. She glanced to the clock on the dash and saw she had gotten there just as the plane had touched down. For the first time in her two year career with Grainger, she was actually thankful for the office's close location to JFK. The movement of the sliding doors on her right caught her attention. "Well fuck me sideways!" she told the empty car. He couldn't be her case. But he was the only one coming out of her doors, with an airport police escort. It had to be. She jumped out and rounded the hood, and opened the back passenger door and the trunk.
One of the officers pulled out a piece of folded paper out of his back pocket and read. "Ms. Hale?"
Esme glanced at the officer's badge, then flashed hers. "Yes sir." They all nodded their greeting. She noticed her new client look her up and down obviously. Don't think she didn't notice. "Thank you for your escort," she told them.< br>
They turned to her new client. "Mr. Pattinson," they nodded with small smiles.
She wasn't stupid. She motioned to the waiting car. He gently slid his guitar case in first, then got in himself, a smile on his lips, eyes behind his sunglasses, without a word. She rolled her eyes behind her own glasses, and shut the door. Putting his bags in the trunk, she rounded the car again and got in. She was directed to the Ritz Carlton hotel where he was staying, so she made her move into traffic. As she drove, the magnitude of the situation finally began to sink in. Normally, when she was on body guard duty, it was only a couple hours or a day tops. But this? Two weeks? Two weeks of being his shadow around the clock. She groaned quietly. Good thing she hated those stupid 'Twilight' movies. Shit. Would she have to see one sometime in the next two weeks? Fuck my life, she thought in misery. Guess the job will be worth the double pay-
"You know," the guy in the back seat interrupted her thoughts. "You don't look to be the security type. You sure you're not an extra sent from the studio?"
Bastard! Her mind screamed. Instead of risking the word actually coming out of her mouth, she just held up held up her badge in the mirror. "Has anyone told you you could be a stand in for Angelina Jolie, but tan and curly hair?"
"No." she said curtly. Truth was, she had, actually. She caught shit for Mr. and Mrs. Smith at the office regularly from the jerkoffs there. She saw him smile out the window. She was going to have to stay at the hotel with him. Shit. What about her clothes? She'd have to take him to her apartment so she could get her stuff. Double shit. After he checked in, she supposed. Was it too late to decline the job? She could call Grainger and ask. She'd do that at the first chance.
"I know you don't know anything about this job you've taken, and for that I apologize, and thank you for the same reason. So here's why I hired you. I need you to be around me while I'm here. I'm working on a film, and there will be a lot of people. Some might get a little crazy, and that's where you come in."
"So why not a male?" she said as flatly as she could manage.
"I wouldn't be able to go to the wrap party, or a couple other functions I have planned while I'm here with a male without doing unrepairable damage to my image, now would I?"
She ground her teeth. She was not informed of even the possibility of being something similar to an escort. Grainger owed her big. And he could bet his ass she'd be chewing him a new one the first chance she got.
"But with a beautiful woman like you? Ha. Probably get some rumors started." She watched him smile out the window again. And how long until those rumors died down and things would return to normal? They pulled up to the hotel, and were immediately swarmed with valet and bell hops, looking for tips. The second she had that car in park, she jumped out and ran to her client's door, beating the valet reaching for the handle, opening it a crack.
"Thank you," she said, letting them know she meant business. They backed off instantly. "You," she pointed to the young bell hop. "You can get the bags." She watched the guys face light up.
"Thank you ma'am!"
"You. Pop the trunk and when he's done unloading, you drive. Bring the car back in half an hour." She flashed her badge, showing she was boss. Only then did she open the door fully, telling everyone else to step back. Her hand went to her hip holster and was reassured when she felt her gun sitting in waiting.
"Your bossing is turning me on," he said into her ear quietly as he climbed out of the car. Her jaw dropped. She huffed once, then told him to march. She wanted to slap his sexy accent out of him. Why did the female species have to be suckers for accents anyway? She followed him closely up to the front desk to collect his room key, then followed him to the elevator, trying not to stand in his line of cologne floating off of him as he walked. Behind her was the bell hop. Waiting for the elevator, he gave her her copy of the key. They rode up silently with the bell hop and luggage to the top floor. She didn't know what kind of suite it was going to be, but it was a guarantee it would be 100 percent posh. It seemed like forever when they finally got to the top and the doors slid open. He slid the card through the lock and the door opened, revealing acres of plush tan carpet, cream walls and curtains- which were floor to ceiling- with cherry wood accents. Dim lighting added to the luxuriousness of the room. In front of them was a small dining room table, complete with a cream linen tablecloth and tall candlesticks. To the left of that was what looked like a small living area, but it was behind a wall. To her immediate left was a cherry wood door open a crack, revealing a glimpse of light blue wall. In between the wall that shielded the living area and the door to the blue room, was a bathroom with the light off. She was sure her eyes were popping out of her head. Recovering, she followed her client into the room. She refused to call him by his name. It made things too personal. She went over to stand by the soft cream leather couch and let the bell boy finish his job. She needed to talk to her client. While she waited, she slid her sunglasses up to sit on her head and looked around. The dining table was on her right, the wall in front of her was floor to ceiling curtains. In between her and the curtains was another full size cream leather couch. In front of the couch and to her slight left was a large square cherry wood coffee table. To the left of that against the left wall was a large entertainment center. Behind her was a pony wall separating the kitchen from the living space. It wasn't very big, but it had a small stove on the other side of the pony wall with gray granite countertops and a mini bar. Across from the stove were more granite counter tops on top of cherrywood cupboards, a microwave, sink and mini fridge. At the end of the kitchen between the fridge and stove was a door to what looked like another bedroom. Oh thank god.
"So. Your name is Hale?" She waited for the door to completely close before turning around to face him head on. He was only a couple feet away, with a half smile on his face, hands half in his pockets, leaning against the corner of the pony wall casually.
"Officer Hale. Listen- I took this case unprepared. I didn't pack any bags, or even overnight. I have to take you back to my place so I can pack a bag. I have the car waiting downstairs." She glanced at her watch. Yep. She placed a hand on her hip and tilted her head expectantly.
"I guess it's a good thing I didn't have any events tonight. Besides. I'd like to see your place." He smiled.
Why did he have to look at it like that? She sighed and walked past him towards the door. She looked over her shoulder to make sure he was following. He was, with that stupid smile. He tried again on conversation in the elevator.
"Hello, Officer Hale, my name is Robert Pattinson, but you can call me Rob. I'll be in New York for two weeks working on a film. I hired you to protect me from the rest of New York. I know it doesn't seem like I need it now, but give it time. I'm guessing by the time we leave this hotel." He smiled at her, and extended his hand to shake. She took it without flinching. Like a man, her coworkers would say. She didn't dare think about how warm his hand was, or how hers fit in perfectly.
"Nice to meet you, Rob. My name is Officer Esmeralda Hale, but you can call me Officer Hale." She withdrew her hand from his and put it in her pocket, but couldn't take her eyes from his. They were so green. Shit! She tore her eyes away to look at the floor number above the doors.
"Esme Hale? Anyone call you that?"
"No." she said curtly. Yes!! Her mind screamed. She could hear the smile in his voice. "Why?" She stole a glance at him when she was met with silence. His jaw was hanging open. "What?"
"You- you-"
"Not everyone likes those 'Twilight' movies, if that's what you're referring to." She looked back at the elevator doors, hiding a grin by biting the inside of her cheek. After a minute, she asked, "Is it?" She looked at him again to see him nod. She had him speechless. Check a point for her. The doors slid open and they crossed the lobby. As the main hotel doors opened for them, her breath was sucked in in surprise when a group of poparazzi stood ready and waiting to pounce on them. Through the flashbulbs, she led him to the waiting car. She opened the back door for him, but he closed it and opened the front passenger door and got in. She rounded the front of the car and got in.
"Let me get this straight. You don't know about my work?"
She smiled as she navigated her way. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but no. I haven't seen the movies, and I haven't read the books. So what's with my name that amuses you so?"
"Oh. Well, your name Esme and Hale are two of the characters names, is all. Just a funny coincidence for me."
"Hmm." She didn't care.
"How long have you been a cop? You don't look to be much older than myself."
Did she want to tell him how old she was? No, not really. "I spent a few years with the NYPD, and then while I was working on a case, I was offered the opportunity to work privately with the boss I have now. Spent a couple years with him so far."
"I suppose I'm not a usual case. What are those like?"
She thought for a minute about his question and couldn't see anything personal in it so she humored him. Fortunately they were only about five more minutes from her place. "Usually, the case isn't longer than twenty four hours, when the person can be relocated or put into protective custody. Most of the time I have female cases." She parked the car outside of a red brick apartment building and climbed out, then went quickly to the passenger side. She waited for him to get out of the car, then led him to the door. She unlocked it and led him up the flight of stairs to their right up to the second floor. Down the hall, she stopped at 214 and unlocked that door. "Have a seat, I'll be done in ten." Closing the door and re-locking it, she stepped out from behind him and took off to her room.
He didn't sit, but wandered around. He could hear her packing quickly, the clatter of hangars, a quick cuss word every once in a while. The place was nice, she must have made a decent living doing what she did. Her furniture was all soft curves in creams and neutral pastels. It was definitely comfortable. Everything was neat and orderly, but not perfect. He wandered into her kitchen, and snooped through her cupboards and fridge. He saw a Coke, and helped himself. He was honestly surprised she didn't have a freezer full of frozen dinners. Her fridge and cupboards were full. He looked around and noticed a picture on the counter in between the toaster and well used coffee maker. He picked it up to study it. It was Esme- he refused to call her Officer Hale- and a littler girl taken from the waist up, outside. Maybe a couple years ago? She was wearing an amazing gold strapless dress that brought out her eyes. She had a huge smile on, and was looking down at the little girl, her long light brown spiral curls cascading down over her shoulder, and her left arm around the girl. The little girl was wearing a pink sweetheart cut dress with poofy shoulders. She was cute, no doubt. But Esme? She was beautiful.
"Son of a... !" He looked over his shoulder to where she had disappeared.
"Everything alright?"
"Yeah." He looked at the picture once more, then set it down. Were there others? Was there a man? He looked around carefully for signs. Guys shoes by the door- he walked quickly to the door and inspected. No shoes at all. Guy movies? He went to her entertainment center and looked. She must do t-vo or Netflix. Any other pictures? He skirted the room scouring her walls. Her, her and another girl, her and an older man. Could possibly be her dad. The next one was a family picture. The man in the other picture was indeed her father. So she had another sister and two brothers. This one looked more recent, not so long ago. The little girl in the picture in the kitchen must have been maybe ten years ago because it was obvious they were sisters in this one. He glanced over his shoulder in Esme's direction. It sounded like she was throwing her toiletries together. She would be done soon. He looked at the family picture. They were all dressed the same, which was the first giveaway. As you looked closer, you could see the family resemblance. Her father looked maybe Cuban, or Puerto Rican, with long wavy dark hair, brown eyes and tanned skin. Her mom was complete opposite. European origin- fair complected, bright green eyes, long spiral curled hair. Cross the two, and you got this beautiful family. Two older brothers and a younger sister.
"Having a good time?" He looked up and saw her standing in the doorway to her room, her suitcase behind her. He smiled at her, the pictures flashing through his mind.
"Yeah, I am."
"Well, party time's over. Let's get you back to your room."
"We could stay here, nobody would expect me to not be at the hotel. There wern't any cameramen outside your door."
"There aren't enough beds here, and you're not sleeping on my couch." She wheeled her suitcase across the living room. She didn't want him in her house. Opening the door, she waited for him to step into the hall. When he finally did, she locked the door behind him and led him back out to the car. While driving, she wanted desperately to ask him what he thought about her place, but she wouldn't. Instead it was silence. She supposed it would be an option if all hell broke loose, but she'd rather not.
"You know, I wasn't thinking about your couch," he told her, a sly crooked smile appearing. "But that's for another time," he continued when she inhaled to argue. "Let's go out tonight. Show me a good place in this city." That stopped whatever argue train she was on. She couldn't say no to that. It was part of her job for this case. Damn it all to hell. "I want to see you in something else besides your work clothes. You did bring play clothes, didn't you?" Why did his voice just get so seductive and insinuating? Damn him! Of course she brought "play clothes", in a secret pocket in her suitcase she would never reveal.
"We can go out," was all she said.
"Great! Do you mind if we get dinner first? I'm starving."
"Not a problem." They rode in silence for the rest of the way to the hotel. Pulling up, there were twice as many cameramen waiting outside the hotel. "Leaches!" she said under her breath as she opened her door. He laughed quietly before climbing out himself. She got her bag out of the trunk after shooing off the bell hop. Honestly, she just didn't want to have to take the elevator with him again. She pulled her suitcases behind her and walked with her client, questions being shouted at them both left and right as they walked into the hotel. With the quiet inside the hotel, they made their way up to his room.
"Well, it's been a long day for me, so I'd like to clean up a little before we go." She nodded, then pulling her suitcase, disappeared into the blue bedroom by the main door. She unpacked her suitcase into the dresser in her room, leaving out her outfit for the night- black mid-calf stiletto boots, a short ruffled jean skirt with lace under each layer, with a black tank top under a black lace long-sleeved cowl neck shirt. She brought her black lace underwear, outfit, makeup, shower and hair products out into the bathroom around the corner. She could hear the shower from his room on the other side of the wall. She stuck her head out of the bathroom around the corner to look into the kitchen at the other end and saw his door open a crack. Did he trust her that much already? She ducked back into her bathroom, and locked the door. The spare bathroom was amazing- she could only imagine what the master bath was like. Heated slate tile flooring, a clear glass shower with multiple jets, a huge infinity tub in the opposite corner, and a double sink across from the toilet and shower. She turned on the shower and set the water temp to 90. Letting it heat up, she undressed and stood in front of the mirror. Her light brown hair spiral curled down to her lower back, her caramel eyes and full lips- but not exaggerated like Angelina Jolie's. She did have the same bone structure though, she had to admit. She pulled a towel off of the nearby rack, and tossed it over the shower door and climbed in.
He wanted her. Wanted her bad. But she wasn't having anything to do with him. She didn't even want him calling her by her first name. She was going to be a hard chick to crack, but he vowed to have her at least once before his two weeks here were up. He stood under the spray for another minute, shook the extra water from his head and stepped out of the shower after turning it off. He stood in front of the mirror. He was one of the worlds most sought after bachelors. Why was she being so cold? He'd just have to be extra charming. He wrapped the towel around his waist and smiled at himself in the mirror. Starting tonight. He walked out of his bathroom and over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers, jeans, an undershirt, and a green button down long sleeve shirt. He went back into his bathroom to dress in front of the mirror and psych himself out.
She was dressed, and was almost done applying her makeup. Smokey eyes, lots of lengthening mascara, red lips slick with cherry gloss. Her hair was down, bangs swept to the right. A little shimmer on her chest and cheeks, and her Romance perfume in all the key places. She put her foot up on the toilet, and strapped her gun to the high inside of her left thigh. Funny enough, she was most turned on when she was wearing something short or tight and had her gun stashed. She had her badge hanging from it's usual chain tucked under her tank top. She stood in front of the mirror and tried to find any sign of her work under her clothes, but couldn't find one. Happy with the end result, she put her watch on. Almost seven thirty on a Tuesday night. Shouldn't be too much of a wait anywhere. She had an idea of where she would take him. She thought that being with him, they'd get the VIP anywhere. At least that was one good thing about being seen with him. And holy hell how those rumors are going to fly. Probably already have with everyone outside the hotel. She opened the door and peeked out. She heard him rattling around in the kitchen. Hopefully he was getting a drink ready. She sure could use one.
He heard the door open, and his hand holding the courtesy bottle of Grey Goose froze over one of two shot glasses. He had to be smooth, but he was so curious to see what she looked like out of jeans and a t-shirt. Well, he prayed she wasn't in jeans and a t-shirt. Please let her be in something tight and revealing. He closed his eyes for a second in silent prayer, then continued to pour the liquor. He turned to the mini fridge for some kind of mixer and found cranberry juice and grape juice. He didn't know what she'd prefer, so be brought both out and turned to set them on the counter. He saw her out of the corner of her eye, standing in the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at her, and his jaw dropped as his eyes took her in. He felt like a cartoon where the tongue rolls out onto the floor and the eyes bug a foot out of the head.
"Oh, shit," he said quietly. The leather boots and black lace- damn. He wanted to bend her over the counter and take her from behind until she screamed his name. Shit! Stop! He had to think of something else to redirect the blood circulation. So he said the first thing he could think of. "You still have your gun on you?"
She had been proud of herself for keeping a straight face during his mental undressing, but now she smirked. "Of course."
He nodded. "Of course," he repeated quietly, turning back to what he desperately needed right now. He had to get her image off his mind. Of course she had her gun. Where could it be? In her boot? Behind her back? Tucked in her bra where other girls kept their cell phones? That's where her badge would be. Wait. Did she have handcuffs? Shit. There it was. He now couldn't turn away from the counter without being completely obvious. He mixed their drinks quickly.
She could sense his tension. Not angry tension, not by a long shot. This was going to be fun, and slightly cruel. She took a step into the kitchen and brought herself beside him, a hands width away. She could practically feel him vibrating. "Are you getting started early?" she asked quietly.
"Well, I know we've both had an unusual day, so I was hoping you'd take a couple shots with me."
"Why, Mr. Pattinson, are you trying to get an on duty cop inebriated?" She looked up at him through her lashes, seriousness written all over her face. His eyes read her face.
"No, officer, unless you get drunk with one shot." She wanted to play? Well game on. "Unless we're going to stay in and you handcuff me," he leaned in towards her slightly. They stared eachother down for a minute. She reached for the glass, her eyes never leaving his. She threw it back and watched him, challenging. He did the same.
"Let's go." She turned, setting her glass on the counter. When she knew he was following, she opened the hotel door and let him pass. The door clicked, and they walked to the elevator.
Once they were inside, Rob said, "You know, the pops are going to have a field day with you."
"I know, it's probably already started. What they don't know might hurt them if they're not careful. What they also don't know is that I have access to a lot of information that I'll be brushing up on over the next couple of days, and if they so much as put one toe over the line, I'll charge them with as much as I can." She smiled the sweetest smile at him, and he got the chills.
"Good. That'll help me out a lot. You know what else?"
"What." She looked at the number changing above the door.
"That with us spending two weeks glued together, you're going to have to let your guard down eventually."
"Ha. We'll see about that." The doors dinged open and they stepped out into the lobby, and she noticed everyone stopping and staring. "I hope you don't mind that I arranged for a car. I didn't want it to be completely obvious that I'm hired." They stepped out into the flashbulbs and flying questions as her eyes scanned everything, watching and waiting for any potential danger. She was suddenly thankful for hitting the gym yesterday afternoon and following her instinct on her need to brush up on her self defense training. The car and driver stood ready with the door open for them to slide right in, her being last. With the door closed, she could relax slightly. At least the driver knew where they were going. She sat as far from him as she could, practically sitting on the arm rest attached to the door. She didn't want to be close to him right now, not with the mood he was in. And he looked good too, damn it. His fuck me hair and grass green eyes, and he smelled like the hot prelude to sex. Fuck! Why did she get stuck with him? What about Chloe or Stacey? Damn, she never did get that chance to call her boss. First thing tomorrow morning, she promised herself.
"Where is it?" he asked, bringing her mind back to him just as it was barely escaping. Why did she have to know exactly what he was talking about?
"You'll only find out if I need to use it," she told him.
"Do you even have handcuffs on you?"
No, she didn't. "Refer to the last answer."
"Shit. Okay, alright. You're a badass." She rolled her eyes and noticed that he arranged himself so he was sitting away from her. She guessed a change of strategy was coming. "Where are we going? Wait. Let me guess. You'd have to kill me if you told me."
"Ha ha. It is a surprise though. We're almost there."
"So, is this evening going to be like this the whole time? All my questions getting generalized answers?"
Ah, the guilt trip. "Generalized answers appear when the questions themselves aren't generalized."
"So what you're saying is that I'm going to be spending every minute of my next two weeks with the ice queen who has walls up everywhere and won't share anything about herself."
Unfortunately half of what he'd said was true. She looked him straight in the eye. "Not without reason, it's for the best." She could play the guilt game too. "You don't want to get tangled with a commoner like me." She looked out the window as they slowed to a stop. "We're here." Thank god for that save. But she knew this conversation wasn't over.
He watched her climb out of the car and was perverted enough to lean down and try to get a peek up her skirt. Damn, it was too dark. He did catch a whiff of her perfume though, and it was as sexy as she was. Why was she so reserved? Was she right about it being better in the end? Probably. He walked with her up to the restaurant, his mind running. But if she was going to be this reserved for the time they were together, his stay here was going to be miserable. He couldn't be bringing girls back to the hotel with a cop staying there. Not that she could say anything because she'd be consenting and not paid. He didn't roll like that anyway.
"Reservation for Lenore Grainger." The hostess's eyes popped out of her head.
"You're not Kri-"
"Our table, please," Rob interrupted, giving her one of his smiles. Seems they both had names they needed to talk about. Oh, wait. That would be too personal of a question. She wouldn't answer. He had to break her. They were seated instantly, amidst whispers and stares.
She was surprised how much attention they were getting. She squinted her eyes. Did that chick just take a picture of them on her cell? She shook her head as she placed her napkin on her lap.
"What?"
"I think that chick just took a picture."
He laughed. "That happens regularly."
"You were right," she said suddenly. She watched surprise cross his face.
"I was? About what?"
"Good evening, folks, what beverages can I start you off with? A nice bottle of wine or champagne perhaps?" Esme looked down at her menu. She didn't want to have anything to do with alcohol, even if she did have a driver.
"Your finest bottle of champagne, please," Rob ordered. Girls usually liked champagne.
"Very well, sir." He disappeared instantly.
"So, as you were saying?" Rob began, looking at her expectantly. Maybe this wasn't going to be as difficult as he originally thought.
"I don't want to make your time here completely miserable, so as long as we can keep a certain amount of professionalism, I suppose we could get to know the basics about each other, as I think it would benefit the case."
"Okay, that's a start. Is it even an option for you to come out of this case with a friend?"
She thought for a second, trying to find a way out. "I have never looked at a case as a friend in my entire professional career, but I suppose these circumstances are different than the usual life or death situation," she smiled at him shyly. He smiled back. She could keep the easy friends distance, right? She could walk that line. "There's one condition for you, though." He cocked his left eyebrow in question. The waiter returned with the bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and two glasses. He set them all on the table and opened the bottle, then filled the glasses.
"Are you ready to order?" She noticed the waiter kept looking at Rob like she wasn't even there.
"Ah," he looked at Esme. She shook her head and opened her menu. "Not quite yet." The server nodded and disappeared again. "So what's my condition?" he asked, keeping his eyes on his menu.
"Well, the condition is that you can't make any sexual comments."
"Ha." Not gonna happen, he thought to himself, then actually said, "Like what kind of comments?"
"Like your earlier one. 'Your bossing is turning me on'. Or, 'You did bring play clothes, right?'"
"It was the truth, and a simple question. But I won't meet that condition because I'm going to say what I think." He gave her a crooked smile, and leaned forward a little, closing some of the space between them, and continued, looking at her mouth. "Even if that includes telling you how incredibly hot you are."
Her stomach did a flip. He did not just say that! "Well," she said quietly, leaning in towards him, stopping a breath away from his mouth, eye on his lips. "You can say as much as you want, that's your right here. But thinking you can sweet talk your way under my skirt," she looked up at him until his eyes met hers, "it's not going to work." She leaned back and smiled, then glanced around. Everyone was staring. She sipped some of her champagne casually.
"We'll see about that," he said with a smile. They sat and looked at each other, leaning back in their chairs, an unannounced staring contest, winner was going to be in charge.
It was called off when the waiter returned. "Folks?"
"I'll have the stuffed chicken," Esme said, calling attention to herself, closing the menu and handing it to the waiter.
"Very good," he nodded and looked back at Rob.
"I'll have the salmon," he said, handing over his menu.
"Excellent choices. I'll return with them shortly." He disappeared, and they resumed their silent staring contest. The waiter appeared again. "Sir, I have been notified by my manager to inform you that the bottle of champagne you're enjoying, as well as the meal and any dessert of your choice, as well as your guests, are completely complementary."
Rob looked up at the waiter, and away from Esme's eyes and smiled. "Why, thank you. How very kind. Please relay to your manager my appreciation and let them know that I will put out a good word for your establishment."
The waiter smiled. "That would be fantastic. Thank you, have a good evening, and I'll be bringing your meal shortly."
Rob returned his gaze to Esmeralda.
"Does that happen to you regularly?" she asked.
"Fairly often. Perk of the job."
"Tell me about the part of your job that concerns me, if you don't mind. My boss called it "deflecting"."
"Deflecting?" he asked with a smile appearing on his lips. Esme nodded. "That's an interesting term. All I can think of that would be anywhere close to any type of deflection, would be if rumors started with you, a beautiful woman, by my side for the next two weeks. Maybe press, or some random fans would misinterpret my body guard for my new love interest, like the hostess up there. But make no mistake, I wouldn't be offended if they thought that." A wicked grin crept out.
"What was the name she was going to say? Kri?" He raised an eyebrow in question. "I don't have time to waste with the tabloids," she said with an agitated flick of her wrist.
He sighed. "If I tell you, you have to answer me something personal." She narrowed her eyes, an internal debate warring in her mind. Did she really want to answer a personal question? Not really. Did she care who this Kri chick was? Not really. And if she wanted to know bad enough, she could probably look it up. Did she want to waste time looking it up? Not really. Guess that was a not really all around. Time for a change of subject.
"So what's the schedule looking like for tomorrow?"
"Nice evasion maneuver. Remember- two weeks together. I have a full day on set tomorrow. I have to be there at six am. You'll be hanging around me. Probably by the crew."
"I don't have to be in your trailer, do I?"
Another smile appeared on his face. "Only if I ask," he said quietly. "But that's going to be a majority of the schedule, at the shooting site by six, and if the weather permits, we'll be back in the hotel room about dusk. Then if I decide I want to go out or do some sightseeing, and then of course, the last day is the wrap party, which of course you'll attend with me." Their food was set in front of them, so they ate in silence for a minute.
"Fine. I'll play your game, because I feel I'd be able to protect you better if I knew more about you. A sideways, indirect way of interrogation, if you will," she said finally with a sly smile.
"Alright, you go first."
She nodded. "What was with the name the chick said?"
Rob smiled. "Kristen. That's the name of my costar slash character's love interest, and to be honest, a majority of the fans think myself and my costar should be together in real life. But by the time we're done filming, I'm ready to touch another girl. Besides, it's not like I'm like that with her anyway. She's a coworker. My turn. Hmm... So many," he took a bite and tried to decide on the most important. "Are you seeing anyone?"
"Don't waste any time, huh?" She took another bite, stalling. She had a friend with benefits, but that was as close as she got to anything serious. "I don't have much time for anything, so no. Do you?"
He smiled. "See, it's not so hard. No, contrary to popular belief. How old are you?"
"Just turned twenty seven a couple weeks ago. When are you trying to go out or sightseeing again?"
He leaned in again, and smiled. "To see you like this again? Tomorrow night. What I'm looking forward to is the wrap party- formal dress. To think, even now, of where your badge and gun is and will be, really turns me on."
"Don't get it mistaken- your a guy- most everything turns you on." An evil thought crossed her mind. Here was her next question. "If you were me, where would you keep your badge, gun, and handcuffs?"
As she smiled seductively, surprise appeared on his. "You do have hand-" he caught himself on the verge of wasting his question. "Well," his eyes swept her over.
She got that feeling of being undressed. Probably because she was.
He allowed his mind to wander, to think about what was under all the lace. "Well, I think that most girls when going out store their money and ID in their bra. I'd think you'd have those and your badge in there, and your phone on the other side. As for your gun..." he let his eyes wander down as far as the table and held his gaze there. "I bet your gun is strapped high to your soft, tanned thigh. Am I right?" His eyes came back up to her face slowly.
A slow smile spread on her face. "Half and half. One is right, one is wrong, and I'm not going to tell which." She placed the last bite of chicken in her mouth. Did she want to ask him another question? "Would you like me to tell you some time?"
"Show would be better, honestly," he said with a smile. The waiter appeared. "May I take your dishes? Would you like to try a dessert?" Rob looked at Esme, eyebrows raised.
She shook her head. "No thank you, sir."
The server nodded. "Have a great evening, and we hope you visit us again soon." He bowed slightly, then disappeared for good.
"Last question, then we can go. What was with the name you gave for the reservation?"
"A combination of my middle name and my boss's last name. Last thing I want while I'm on this case is my real name to get out." They stood up and made their way to the door, back through stares and whispers to their waiting car. "How's that jet lag working for you now?" She silently wished he was wiped and didn't want to go anywhere else.
"So far so good, but right now, a nightcap and a good movie in bed sounds like a perfect way to end the day, seeing as how I'll have to get up early tomorrow." She was so excited by his response she nearly jumped with joy.
"Okay." She leaned forward, and told the driver the next stop. She leaned back against the seat, looking out the window, forgetting who she was sitting next to, thinking about getting her flannel pajamas on and laying in a strange bed, falling asleep to the t.v. after a quick yoga routine. A small smile began to creep onto her lips until she stopped herself. She was exhausted, and made a mental reminder to herself to call Grainger in the morning and wake his ass up at five thirty to- she stopped thinking immediately when she felt eyes on her, and she tensed up reflexively.
"What are you thinking about?"
Her brow furrowed, then she relaxed, features going nuetral, then looked at him. He was studying her. Why didn't he just whip out a magnifying glass? Save himself some trouble.
"Oh, nothing in particular. What about you? Seems you've got more on your mind."
His eyes narrowed in the glow of the city lights. "Don't turn this on me. I asked you first."
She glanced out of the windshield, calculating how much time they had until they got to the hotel, then looked back at him. "Like I said- nothing in particular, just what flannel pajamas I was going to wear- oh look, we're here." She opened the door before the car came to a complete stop, standing amid the few stragling cameras, and waited impatiently for her client to step out. Unfortunatley, it seems he was in the mood to piss her off and take his sweet time, moving in slow motion with a grin on his face. She bit her tongue to keep from rolling her eyes and tapping her foot, trying to distract herself with the pain.
He finally stood up flush to her, and looked into her eyes. "I will crack you," he warned quietly.
It was her turn to narrow her eyes. "I do this for a living, buddy," she whispered loudly. "You can try, but I've got years on you. Not to mention excellent interrogation skills. Now let's take this pissing match inside." She watched his left eyebrow raise and the corner of his mouth twitch, then his eyes scanned the cameras, clicking furiously, but nobody saying anything. He looked back at her for another second, then he turned and made his way into the hotel, leaving Esme to follow behind.
They rode the elevator in silence, Esme's blood heating more and more by the minute. Why was she letting such a smug jerk, standing there, hands in his pickets, looking innocent as all hell, get under her skin? And he was still smiling that stupid crooked smile. She wanted to slap it off his face so bad. By the time the elevator dinged on the top floor, her blood was boiling. And he was practically laughing. She mentally cursed him every word she could think of. She followed him into the hotel, looking left and right down the hall before closing the door behind her out of habit. As she turned around to lock the door, she bumped smack into him. She glared up into his smirking face. If her eyes could throw fire at any point in time, she chose now. Then he did the unthinkable. He brought a hand up to cup her face.
"Sweet dreams, Ms. Hale," he said quietly before turning and disappearing around the corner. A second later, still frozen where she was, she heard his door click shut quietly. Another second later, his t.v. came on and she was still standing where he'd left her. She suddenly started shaking with rage, and went to her room, careful not to slam the door, even as bad as she wanted to. Couldn't give him the satisfaction. She did pick up a plastic ice bin from her bathroom counter, and throw it against the side of her bed. Panting, she quickly changed into her yoga attire, and had one of the most fierce workouts of her life.
Chapter Two