Read Online Just Another Pretty Face (HT 459) by Candace Schuler - Free Book Online
Authors: Candace Schuler
Tags: bodyguard
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it bother me, either, she told herself. I'm made of sterner stuff than that. And if they were someplace else—on a military base or in the middle of a war zone, say, or anyplace where she was indisputably in charge—it wouldn't bother her. But in the middle of Beverly Hills, in a ritzy store with snooty salesclerks, with a man she couldn't threaten to throw into the brig if he didn't behave himself... and never mind the unnerving fact that her knees tended to disintegrate to the consistency of overcooked noodles every time he smiled at her.
"You're a snake," she said, in a quiet voice. "An unprincipled, low-down, no-good, conniving, manipulating snake."
Pierce's grin widened. "Does that mean we'll do this my way?"
"Yes, damn it," she hissed, giving in with absolutely no attempt at accepting defeat gracefully. "I'll try them on. But once we're out of here I won't wear them anywhere. Ever."
* * *
"STUPID SHOES," Nikki muttered, frowning down at the black spike heels Pierce Kingston had picked out to go with the "slinky black number" she was wearing. If she hadn't been quick enough to catch herself on the newel post, she'd be sprawled face down on the kitchen floor. As it was, she'd dropped her purse when she reached out to break her fall, sending the contents flying in all directions across the tile.
Lisbeth Greene, sitting at the kitchen table in the same chair she'd occupied yesterday afternoon, glanced up from under her wispy bangs, sniffed and went back to taking notes from the open textbook in front of her.
With a muffled oath, Nikki crouched down and began gathering her scattered possessions. "I'm fine," she said, as if Lisbeth had expressed concern. "No damage done."
Lisbeth still didn't move from her chair at the table. "Do you need any help?" she asked finally, surreptitiously watching Nikki's head bob up and down as she scooted around in search of loose change, old receipts and stray ballpoint pens.
"That's really sweet of you, Lisbeth, but I think I've got everything. Except..." Her voice trailed off. "Ah, there it is," she said, reaching under the table. Her arm wasn't quite long enough. "Could you reach down and get that for me, please, Lisbeth? It's right by your foot."
"Get what?" Lisbeth asked in a bored voice. But she bent down to look. Her eyes rounded in surprise as they met Nikki's under the table. "Is that a real gun?" she asked, suddenly sounding much younger than the nineteen years Nikki knew her to be.
"A 9mm Baretta," Nikki said as she backed out from under the table and got to her feet. "So pick it up carefully. By the butt, please."
Lisbeth reached down and picked up the pistol in two fingers. "Do you always carry a gun?" she asked, holding it out toward Nikki.
"When I'm working, yes," Nikki said. "Always."
"Are you a good shot?" Lisbeth asked, watching as Nikki checked the pistol for damage.
"It wouldn't make much sense to carry it if I wasn't, now would it?" Nikki said, making sure the safety was in place before putting the gun back into her purse.
"Wow. I guess you really are a bodyguard."
Nikki lifted an eyebrow. "Did you think I wasn't?"
Lisbeth shrugged and looked away, obviously uncomfortable with the question. "I dunno," she mumbled.
"Well, I can assure you, I am—"
"Ah, Miss Martinelli, there you are," Marjorie Gil-more said as she came into the kitchen with a cut-crystal vase in each hand. "Mr. Kingston was just wondering if you were ready yet."
Nikki grimaced. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," she said, and tugged at the hem of her dress.
"You look very nice," Lisbeth said, offering a small, guarded smile. "Doesn't she look nice, Aunt Margie?" she added, looking to her aunt for confirmation.
Marjorie Gilmore glanced up from the sink where she was preparing to wash the vases. "Very nice," she said, her clipped tones making Nikki feel like an under-dressed bimbo.
Or more of a bimbo, anyway, than she had standing in front of the mirror in her room upstairs. She
"You're a snake," she said, in a quiet voice. "An unprincipled, low-down, no-good, conniving, manipulating snake."
Pierce's grin widened. "Does that mean we'll do this my way?"
"Yes, damn it," she hissed, giving in with absolutely no attempt at accepting defeat gracefully. "I'll try them on. But once we're out of here I won't wear them anywhere. Ever."
* * *
"STUPID SHOES," Nikki muttered, frowning down at the black spike heels Pierce Kingston had picked out to go with the "slinky black number" she was wearing. If she hadn't been quick enough to catch herself on the newel post, she'd be sprawled face down on the kitchen floor. As it was, she'd dropped her purse when she reached out to break her fall, sending the contents flying in all directions across the tile.
Lisbeth Greene, sitting at the kitchen table in the same chair she'd occupied yesterday afternoon, glanced up from under her wispy bangs, sniffed and went back to taking notes from the open textbook in front of her.
With a muffled oath, Nikki crouched down and began gathering her scattered possessions. "I'm fine," she said, as if Lisbeth had expressed concern. "No damage done."
Lisbeth still didn't move from her chair at the table. "Do you need any help?" she asked finally, surreptitiously watching Nikki's head bob up and down as she scooted around in search of loose change, old receipts and stray ballpoint pens.
"That's really sweet of you, Lisbeth, but I think I've got everything. Except..." Her voice trailed off. "Ah, there it is," she said, reaching under the table. Her arm wasn't quite long enough. "Could you reach down and get that for me, please, Lisbeth? It's right by your foot."
"Get what?" Lisbeth asked in a bored voice. But she bent down to look. Her eyes rounded in surprise as they met Nikki's under the table. "Is that a real gun?" she asked, suddenly sounding much younger than the nineteen years Nikki knew her to be.
"A 9mm Baretta," Nikki said as she backed out from under the table and got to her feet. "So pick it up carefully. By the butt, please."
Lisbeth reached down and picked up the pistol in two fingers. "Do you always carry a gun?" she asked, holding it out toward Nikki.
"When I'm working, yes," Nikki said. "Always."
"Are you a good shot?" Lisbeth asked, watching as Nikki checked the pistol for damage.
"It wouldn't make much sense to carry it if I wasn't, now would it?" Nikki said, making sure the safety was in place before putting the gun back into her purse.
"Wow. I guess you really are a bodyguard."
Nikki lifted an eyebrow. "Did you think I wasn't?"
Lisbeth shrugged and looked away, obviously uncomfortable with the question. "I dunno," she mumbled.
"Well, I can assure you, I am—"
"Ah, Miss Martinelli, there you are," Marjorie Gil-more said as she came into the kitchen with a cut-crystal vase in each hand. "Mr. Kingston was just wondering if you were ready yet."
Nikki grimaced. "As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," she said, and tugged at the hem of her dress.
"You look very nice," Lisbeth said, offering a small, guarded smile. "Doesn't she look nice, Aunt Margie?" she added, looking to her aunt for confirmation.
Marjorie Gilmore glanced up from the sink where she was preparing to wash the vases. "Very nice," she said, her clipped tones making Nikki feel like an under-dressed bimbo.
Or more of a bimbo, anyway, than she had standing in front of the mirror in her room upstairs. She
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