Rock the Bodyguard Read Free Page B

fully understand what
Miles meant, but she knew it was making her stomach churn and quiver.
    “Maybe I should go to bed,” she
said, lowering her eyes. She was confused and a little sad that Miles didn't
seem to approve of her. She already liked him very much, but he was all stern
looks and now this little uninvited lecture. She lowered her eyes, realizing
she probably wasn't his type. Men like Miles Rock liked nice girls, girls who
knitted and baked and knew their place, not girls like her, who went out on
stage and danced dirty for all the world to see. Feeling embarrassed, and more
than a little dejected, Cash turned and moped toward the hotel.
     

Chapter Two
    Cash and Miles spoke little on
their way up to the suite. As the doors closed, Cash leaned against the wall.
It made no sense, she'd just been in front of thousands of people who loved
her, loved her music, screamed with approval at her every move and now one man,
one man she barely knew, raised his brow at her and said she needed discipline
and she was in the depths of despair. The ride seemed to drag on forever and
she felt as if she could hardly breathe in the small space, the space that
seemed to be entirely made up of him.
    Seemingly unaffected by the tension
Cash was feeling between them, Miles stepped off the elevator when it reached
its destination, escorted her into the extensive suite, did a sweep of her
bedroom and then nodded.
    “Good night, Miss Raine. I'll be in
the far room if you need me.”
    “I'll keep that in mind, if I need
someone to tell me how terrible I am,” she said, brushing past him.
    “Hey.” His large palm pressed
against the door as she tried to close it. He gave her a look that was hard to
fathom, somewhere between a frown and an expression of intense boredom. “I
didn't say you were terrible.”
    “You said my lyrics were suggestive
and that I need discipline.”
    He met her frustrated gaze
unblinkingly. “They are, and you do.”
    “Well I'll tell you something, Mr.
Rock,” she said, drawing herself up to her full height, which was a good foot
and a half shorter than his. “I am very disciplined. I work very hard and my
fans love what I do. If you don't approve, you can take your opinions and shove
them up your...” she didn't finish the sentence, she didn't need to, he knew
what she meant.
    Miles' lips thinned. “You've
misunderstood me, Miss Raine.”
    “I don't care,” she said. “I don't
want to hear what you think of me or my lyrics.”
    “You're tired, Miss Raine, get some
sleep.”
    “Don't tell me what to do!” She
heard her voice rising to a pitch as her annoyance grew out of all proportion.
    “You're very tired,” he said, his
voice softening, “and you're going to say and do things you'll regret if you
keep talking. Now go to bed, sweetheart.”
    Cash drew in her breath in a high-pitched
squeak. Why wasn't he getting angry? Why wasn't he yelling back? Why was he
calling her sweetheart? She let the breath out, deflating with it.
    “Fine,” she said. “I'm going to get
some sleep.”
    “Good night, Miss Raine,” Miles
said, moving his hand so she could close the door. She pressed it shut and
leaned back against it, wiping away tears that sprang to her eyes completely
unbidden. She didn't know why she was crying. Miles was probably right; she was
probably just tired.
     
    *
* * * *
     
    Sweat dripped from every pore of
Cash's body as she leaped and twirled in time with the music. It was five in
the morning and it was still dark outside but she'd been dancing for half an
hour already. She'd slept a little, but woken with a song in her head. It had
taken a few minutes to transcribe the lyrics that had come to her in her sleep
and then she'd just had to dance. It wasn't just that she wanted to practice,
it was a physical need to express herself through movement, to shake off some
of the stress.
    Fortunately, the suite that the
label was putting her up in contained a small dance studio complete with