Smith had finger-combed his hair, so it swept back off his forehead. The thick brown hair must have been scared into position because there was no way Val could ever make her mane stay in that style. His suit jacket was in his hand, and he had a five o’clock shadow that was sexy as hell. Smithson Young was a walking, talking poster of the hot bodyguard prototype, but the man didn’t know it. Smith had no sense of value about himself that she could detect. He always deferred any compliment or ignored it. At first, she thought the brush-off was a pick-up tactic, but it wasn’t. It was just how Smith was. The man genuinely didn’t believe he was worthy of any compliment. Smith reached for his shoulder holster, but she stopped him. “No need for weapons today.”
Smith stopped and cocked his head as he looked at her. There it was. That resting bitch face told her she’d pushed him about as far as he would go. She hurried to explain. “This is a surprise, and you can’t take any weapons with you.” She sauntered over to him and brushed some imaginary lint off his shoulder. Since they had lunch after Mrs. Henshaw’s funeral, Val had elbowed her way into Smith’s life. He was a loner, and so was she. Smith was a Guardian, which meant he was safe. Besides, she’d checked. He’d been vetted. He was someone with whom she could spend time, thank God. With her work for Guardian on pause, she had time on her hands, and Smith had become a … project. No. Check that. More like an obsession.Which was kind of stalker-y. Was that a word? Whatever.Val waited for Smith to make his decision. There was no use trying to rush him, which was something she’d learned right away. He was an immovable object. A mountain. And a delicious-looking mountain at that.
“Just a minute.” He moved back to the bedroom. Hopefully to lock up his weapon.
The second time they went out to lunch, she’d appeared on his doorstep just like that morning. It took five minutes to convince him he should eat lunch with her again. They’d spent hours at a small bistro, visiting about everything under the sun. Well, she’d visited, and he’d said enough that she didn’t feel too much like a babbling idiot. During that lunch, she’d asked him if he had ever had any trouble with the residents where he lived. He lifted his eyes to hers and spoke one word. “No.”
That precise moment was when Valknewshe and Smith were compatible. Of course, she’d suspected it for years. The look in his eyes at that moment was one she’d seen every morning in the mirror. For her, that familiar expression began its metamorphosis the day her husband was murdered. Yes, that look was the absolute confidence of knowing no one could hurt you any deeper than you’d already been hurt and the knowledge if they tried, they’d be dead. They held that eye contact for too long. But it seemed neither was willing to break the link. Unfortunately, the waitress severed the gaze, but not the connection. Val had been planning their outing since that day because she’d given Smith access to that utter loneliness inside her, and he’d taken up residency. Now, to let him know. Which could blow up in her face.
“Ready.” He grabbed his wallet and hung his sunglasses from the unbuttoned collar of his shirt. She opened the apartment door and waited as he deadbolted all three locks. Smith opened the car door for her, and she slipped into the vehicle. “Next stop, please.”
The Guardian driver nodded and pulled out into the street. “Where are we going?” Smith stretched and yawned.
“A surprise.” She was taking him away. She’d bought his clothes, arranged the hotels, and scheduled special access to the museums and historical sites that he’d spoken about but had never seen. Over the course of the last three months, she’d realized that Smith was probably one of the most intelligent people she knew. That was a bold statement because Val knew anOperator. That wasn’t public knowledge, but if Smith and Aspen ever met, the conversation would be amazing.
Smith settled into the back of the car and closed his eyes. She smiled to herself. He trusted her. Either that, or he was exhausted. She placed her hand on his leg. “What time did you go to bed?”
He opened one eye. “About ten minutes before you pounded on my door.”
“Sorry. It’ll be worth it, though, I promise.” She patted his thigh. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”
The drive to JFK was quiet except for Smith’s steady breathing. Val studied his sleeping profile as they sped through the night. To an extent, the man was a mystery. She knew the basics about how he came to be in Guardian. It didn’t take much to get that information. But while Smith appeared aloof and damn abrasive at times, she felt his loneliness. It was there. Hidden, yes, but there, nonetheless. When the Guardian driver pulled up to the departure gate, she woke him. “We’re here.”
He blinked and sat up, scanning the area as he woke. “An airport.”
It was a statement, not a question, but she answered anyway, “Yes. Come on.”
She moved to the door when his big hand fell on her shoulder. “What are you up to?”
She turned to face him.Time to let the cat out of the bag. “We’re going to Europe. I have it all arranged. I want you to see everything. To experience Amsterdam and see the Venice canals you described so vividly to me. I want you to lose yourself in the Louvre, to marvel at the beauty of the Crown Jewels, to sit in awe of Stonehenge and touch history. You know everything about all the wonderful places, but you’ve never been to them. We have time off work; I have more money than I can spend in two lifetimes, and I want you to have this. Please come with me.”
The driver, who’d exited the vehicle, was extracting their luggage from the trunk. “You packed clothes for me?”
“Yes, and I stole your passport out of your freezer.” She pulled it out of the pocket of her purse.
He took the blue folder from her. “Do I want to know how you knew where it was?” He nodded to the door, and she smiled.He’s going to come! That made her insanely happy, which would make Reaper laugh out loud. The assassin liked to tease her. So she would never tell Reaper about their journey. Far be it from her to give her friend ammo to volley in her direction.
She opened the door, stepped out, and waited for him to unfold from the car before hugging him. He patted her back but didn’t hug her. That was okay. She had time to work on that. “I may have poked about your kitchen and found it.”
“Poked about? Is that what you call searching someone’s home these days?” He lifted the handles on three of the four cases the driver sat on the curb.
“Meh, it’s all shades of the same color, and your apartment isn’t exactly huge.” She grabbed the handle of the last bag. “Thank you.” She spoke to the driver. The Guardian nodded and headed back to his car.
Val walked beside Smith as she pulled her suitcase behind her and directed their route to the ticket counter to check their bags. After getting through security, she put her arm through his and led him to the lounge where they’d wait for their flight. Smith took everything in, although he wasn’t obvious about it. She saw his eyes bounce back and forth, intent and scanning, clearly alert. Another reason she liked him. He was very present in his surroundings. He wasn’t one of those men who trudged through life expecting the world to shift to his whims. As the assassin in her would say, Smith assessed every situation, making him an even better travel companion.
“Air travel has changed since I last flew,” he mused as they sat down in the lounge. An attendant was with them immediately, and they ordered coffee and pastries.
“When was that?” she asked when the attendant left.
He drew a deep breath and let it out. “After I graduated high school.”
“Where did you go?” She turned to face him on the couch they were sharing.
“Home.” He shook his head, and his jaw tightened.
“Where’s home?” she asked as the attendant arrived with their coffee. Val took the saucer in her hand and leaned back, facing Smith again.
“Wherever I lay my head.” He took a sip of his coffee. “Where’s home for you?”