Linda Conrad - Safe by His Side

Blythe couldn’t think of anything to say. All of a sudden she wanted nothing more than to find out about Ethan’s background herself. Afraid to appear too curious around these women she didn’t know very well, Blythe casually tilted her head in an I-don’t-care manner.

She even managed a laugh, but it sounded hollow to her ears. “Not sure he’s worth that much trouble. But if you find out anything terribly interesting, let me know. Ashley is my responsibility, after all. I guess it would be nice if I knew more about the people she’s working with.”

Amber looked down her nose at Blythe, though she probably stood two inches shorter. “Oh, sure. You don’t think he’s hot at all? Ha! Come off it, girl. Anybody would have to be dead and buried not to go panting after that dude. And you get to work with him all the time.”

The conversation came to an abrupt halt as the set coordinator buzzed all assistants back to work. Cell phones magically disappeared and plastic coffee cups and leftover almond danishes got pitched into trash cans as everyone went their own ways.

Actual filming wouldn’t start for another half hour, but Blythe had no intention of hanging around until Ashley was called. She really wasn’t interested in spending time alone with Ethan—not now or in the future. Not with the way he was forever staring at her. And the way his gaze made her body turn all itchy and tense. It was bad enough that every time she turned around he was always right there.

So let him be the bodyguard. “Ethan,” she called out. “I’m going over to Ashley’s trailer to work on schedules. Think you can take over the job of making sure she’s back on the set when the director calls for her?”

“I suppose I can manage,” he answered wryly and with a big wink.

Damn man. He could charm the panties off the nuns. Waving a hand in acknowledgment but afraid to open her mouth for fear of what might come out, Blythe turned around—and ran.

At the end of the shooting day, Ethan pushed out ahead of Ashley but kept her in the protective circle of one arm as he guided her toward their waiting limo. Blythe walked beside him, chin down and with her computer case held in front of her chest like a shield. Meanwhile, a small group of young girls waited at the nearby gate, autograph books waving in their hands as they screamed Ashley’s name.

He’d decided the series television business was damned hard work. Hours and hours of hanging around being bored, punctuated by a few minutes of pure terror when the cameras rolled. How could a seven-year-old be expected to put up with such crap day after day?

At least tomorrow was the last day of shooting for this season. Ashley would have to survive it for only twenty-four more hours.

By the time they arrived at the limo, Ashley was dragging. He literally had to pick the child up off her feet and place her on the backseat. Then he stood aside to let Blythe enter.

Instead of climbing inside, she leaned in to talk to Ashley. Ethan didn’t mind the wait. The view of Blythe’s backside kept him pleasantly occupied.

At first glance, he’d thought the woman a little too well rounded for his taste. But with another look, he found himself paralyzed, caught in the pure fascination of watching the way her buttocks tightened under her jeans. His imagination quickly took him to a quiet place where he could wrap his hands around all that fullness. If things went his way from there, next he would lift his hands slowly to her breasts, testing and teasing the ripe flesh under her plain beige sweater.

Stumbling back a step, Ethan fought for composure. He hadn’t been this turned on by just the sight of a woman’s back end since his teenage years. Was he fantasizing only because she seemed so different from his usual type?

Luckily for his equilibrium, Blythe pulled her head out of the car and looked up at him. Their gazes locked, and instead of the cold and self-possessed attitude he usually saw, her eyes danced with the ghost of a smile. A jolt, electric and sharp, smacked him in the gut.

Mercy. Why hadn’t he ever before noticed that her eyes were the same color as pale golden tequila with tiny shots of green liquor blended right through the irises?

“I want Ashley to lie down and rest on the way home,” Blythe told him. “She’s exhausted. I’m going to be finalizing our tour plans with the studio’s travel agency on my computer in the front seat. You stay back here with Ash and keep an eye on her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Blythe’s eyes changed back to hard, shooting him a withering look as if to say, I am the boss, jerk off. And don’t you forget it.

But neither of them was stupid enough to say anything out loud.

Blythe climbed into the front passenger seat, immediately opened her wireless laptop and began to work. Ethan slammed her door hard enough to make a statement, then slid in across from Ashley in back and signaled the driver they were ready to roll.

Five minutes outside the studio gates, they found themselves stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Ethan kept an eye on the cars surrounding them, but he didn’t want to appear too nervous for Ashley’s sake.

“Looks like it’ll be a long ride. Are you going to take a nap like Blythe said?” He’d asked only because as she sat there staring at him, her shoulders were drawn up tight and her mouth had turned down in a frown.

“Only babies take naps. I am not a baby. I’m a star.”

Okay, hot stuff. Just what he needed. Another cold, self-possessed female. And this one was only seven. Terrific.

But she didn’t resemble a self-possessed star at the moment. As he studied her, Ethan began to see signs of her distress. Her feet absently kicked the seat. She’d slunk down low, fidgeting with her jacket. And her eyelids drooped as though she was fighting to keep them open.

Without giving it much thought, Ethan swung himself around and sat on the long bench beside her. “You know, I have a sister, and you remind me of her when she was your age. Stubborn little one. She’d get herself so wound up that she couldn’t sleep at night.”

“Where is your sister now?”

“Back home in Texas. She’s all grown up. Still stubborn, though.”

Ashley continued to stare at him. He’d been using his lady-killer grin on her, but she never cracked a smile. He spotted the dark circles under her eyes.

“Well now,” he hedged. “Maybe you just need the personal Ryan touch. That was the only thing used to help Maggie get to sleep.”

The little-girl star narrowed her eyes at him. “What’s the personal Ryan touch? Blythe says I shouldn’t let anybody touch me unless it’s for acting.”

“Now, that’s real smart, darlin’. You pay attention to Blythe. But I didn’t mean a physical touch.” He inched away from her on the long, plush seat-bench to make her less nervous. “Why don’t you take off your shoes and put your feet up? I’ll sit over here and tell you stories about me and Maggie and my brother Josh. That’s the way my grandmother used to do for us. If you want, you could put your head down and close your eyes for a few minutes. Not like a nap or anything, mind you. Just so you can listen better.”

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