Read Online The Muscle Part One by Michelle St. James - Free Book Online Page A

didn’t want him to come, and he tried not to be stung by the knowledge. He was her bodyguard, and if he knew one thing about Isabel it was that she wanted to pretend to be like everyone else, especially where Sofia was concerned. Bringing your bodyguard to a little kid’s birthday party probably wasn’t the best way to do that.
    And she’d been distant since their encounter by the pool a few days before, hesitant even to meet his eyes. He was still trying to figure out what had happened, still trying to erase the memory of her naked body standing before him like a goddess, her sex primed and ready for him.
    Made for him.
    Except he didn’t want to scrub the memory. He lived for it. Lived in it half the time. He had no idea how this secretive creature had gotten under his skin, but somehow in the last two weeks, trying to figure her out had become his greatest pastime. He wondered if he’d ever do it, or if he would peel away one layer only to find another and another.
    “I’ll wait over there,”Luca said, indicating a park bench near the bike path.
    “Thank you.”
    She turned away and headed for the group of parents and children congregated around the picnic table and balloons. She looked so small walking away from him, so alone. She was only twenty-three — he’d double checked when he’d found out his charge was the older of the Fuentes sisters — and yet she seemed to have total parental responsibility for Sofia. Not that Sofia was difficult, but still. Isabel had to have dreams of her own. He knew she painted in the art studio, working on the giant canvases he’d seen the day Robert had given him a tour of the house. He’d been surprised when he realized they were hers, although he couldn’t have said why. Maybe he’d expected her to be less complex, and there was no way you could reduce the creator of such beauty to something simple. The canvases were vibrant, emotional abstracts with big sweeping bursts of color laced with darker threads that were harder to notice. He could see her in them: the beauty and magic touched with something secret and brooding. It was like watching a hurricane approach Miami, watching the colors of the landscape dim and darken as the storm approached.
    He was no art expert, but he was definitely starting to see a parallel between Isabel’s work and her own dark corners.
    He watched as she shook hands with a man and a woman in their thirties. They all smiled, and Isabel gestured to the bench where Luca sat. A moment later, the woman handed Isabel two plates of cake, and she started back toward Luca.
    “Cake,” she said, handing him the plate.
    “Thanks.” They ate the cake in silence for a couple of minutes before he spoke again. “Do you want to tell me what happened the other night?” he asked gently.
    She gazed across the park toward the party where one of the little girls was being blindfolded to play Pin the Tail on the Donkey. “No.”
    “I’d like to know.”
    “It’s not something I want to talk about,” she said, still careful not to meet his eyes.
    He took a minute to consider his next words, taking advantage of the opportunity to soak up her beauty. She was wearing a long black skirt with a tasteful slit up one leg, her delicate feet wrapped in gold sandals. Her shoulders were as beautiful as a sculpture, her skin glowing under the white tank top she wore with the skirt, a narrow necklace hanging between her beautiful breasts. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone so lovely. She took his breath away, and he felt a vicious swell of protection. She didn’t deserve the life she had. She deserved magic and laughter and freedom, and he suddenly felt like he would do anything to give those things to her.
    “Is it me?” he finally asked. “Did I push too hard?”
    For the first time in days, she met his eyes. “Not at all,” she said firmly. “Please don’t think that.”
    “Then what?”
    She shook her head and stood. “I just… I can’t do