They went out the back door, to the alley where Mona allowed them to park.
Jas walked a step in front of her but within reach, leading her to the car. She slid her gaze from his straight black hair, down his strong neck and back, and tore it away just as it got to his butt.
Your employee. Your friend. But also, your employee. You’re his responsibility. Nothing more.
She’d message more men on Crush. She had to find someone else.
He opened her door for her, and she slid into the back seat. The windows were darkly tinted, so no one could look in and see her. She could look out, though.
Riding in cars was still a relative novelty for her. Almost two years ago, when she’d decided she wanted to try exposure therapy under Andy’s guidance, they’d come to this vehicle, parked in her driveway, and sat inside it. She’d wrestled her way out of the car when her throat had constricted so much she could only gasp. Not quite a panic attack. Fear of fear. The terror of a potential panic attack.
The second time had been easier. The third time, she’d managed to travel within a mile radius of her house.
She’d tested herself up to six hours straight in the car now, round-trips where Jas had driven her up the coast and back, the sight of the ocean something she’d missed dearly. Twice she’d hyperventilated to the point where Jas had had to pull over. She’d survived, though, and that was what she told her fear every time she got inside the SUV.
She watched the city pass her by as they made the short ten-minute drive back to her home, in between sneaking glances at Jas.
“Did you have a good time?” Jas asked.
“Yes. Did you try the cookies? Oh, never mind.” Jas didn’t like sweets like she did. “They were delicious. I’ll have to get the recipe from Mona. Jia would like them.” Her new housemate liked to eat, which delighted Katrina, because she liked to feed people.
Jas grunted. “What about the guy? What was his deal?”
She lifted her head from the window. “He was a tourist.” She’d never know what prompted the next confession. “He asked me out.”
Katrina immediately wanted to recall the words. In the nine years he’d worked for her, she’d never spoken to Jas about something like this, had no idea what was going on in his personal life. She considered them friends, but they had clearly defined boundaries. Her relatively recent desire for physical companionship was something only her girlfriends and Andy were privy to.
There was a short pause. “What?”
She met her bodyguard’s dark eyes in the rearview mirror. Gloss over it. Don’t talk to the man you want about a man you don’t. It’s not like he’ll be jealous or anything. Anyway, jealousy was something high school girls sought.
She opened her mouth and heard herself say, “That man I was sitting with? The cute guy? He asked me to go to dinner with him tonight.”
Jas’s gaze flicked back to the road, his thick black eyebrows furrowing so deeply she wanted to smooth them out. “Cute? Is that what’s considered cute now?” He snorted. “Fake teeth and a fake tan?”
She paused. The fake tan was possible. As for the rest . . . “Fake, huh?”
“Definitely. No one’s teeth are naturally that white.”
She couldn’t help but grin, a real grin. Not many people saw this side of Jas. “Cosmetic procedures are not something I shame a person for,” she said primly.
He gestured. The sunlight glinted off the iron bracelet he wore. “I’m not saying Sir Teeth-a-Lot should be ashamed, I’m saying he needs a better dentist.” Jas took a sharp right. “I’m sure he has many other excellent qualities.”
If she didn’t know better, she might think there was a caustic bite to Jas’s words.
Jealousy?
She strangled the surge of hope in her soul, shoved it down deep. “He seemed okay.”
“Where are we going on this date?”
Katrina squinted at the back of his head. His hair was short, always in the same tidy style. “We?”
“I would prefer to accompany you until we have a chance to vet him.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it again, flummoxed. She hadn’t thought about the logistics of dating. Jas lived on her property, in the guest cottage. When they were at home, he had an uncanny ability to fade in and out of the woodwork as she needed. When she left her home, Jas was always at her side.
She’d have to take Jas on a date? With another man? And he sounded . . . fine about that prospect. Utterly, totally fine.
So much for him thinking of her as anything other than a job. “I’m not going out with him. I turned him down. Wasn’t feeling it.”
“As you wish.” His attention returned to the twisting road. “Your wrap is next to you.”
She hadn’t realized she was shivering until then. It was cool out, the chill multiplied by the air-conditioning. She picked up the shawl and drew it around her shoulders. “Thank you, Jas. What would I do without you?” Truth.
A grunt. That was the grunt that told her he didn’t know what to say in response. He wasn’t great at handling compliments.
She leaned her forehead against the window. After a second, she pulled her phone out of her purse and opened Crush.
She studied the man Andy had matched her with. He said he was six-foot-four five times in his profile, not four, and she had no doubt he’d say it ten more times when they got together. Tall people were very proud of hitting the genetic lottery.
Jas was tall, though, and he rarely mentioned it.
Stop it.
With a surreptitious glance at Jas, she clicked on the guy’s profile and sent a waving-hand emoji. Not the most creative opener, but if he was interested, he’d get back to her.
What would I do without you? They hadn’t been empty words. Jas was such an integral part of her life. If he left, she’d survive, but she’d mourn his loss.
Longing shot through her. She wanted him to feel the same way about her. She wanted him to share his needs with her, so she could do things for him, too.
Katrina wrapped her shawl tighter around her. That wouldn’t happen, though. So she could never jeopardize their working relationship or their friendship with her stupid, too-big feelings.
Chapter Three
THERE WAS A time in his life when Jasvinder Singh had always been prepared for a fight, for an enemy around the next corner.
But if the military had taught him anything, it was that the lines between friend and foe were blurry, and there were some attacks you could never prepare for.
He asked me out.
Jas ramped up the speed of the treadmill, his feet pounding on the track. His breath was coming fast and hard. It had been far too long since he’d properly pushed himself.
He asked me out.
He tapped the incline button, forcing himself up to a steep elevation. He welcomed every second of the pain in his calves.
He asked me out.
The doorbell interrupted his savage thoughts, and he hit the pause button on the treadmill, jumping off before it came to a complete stop. He winced as his knee protested. When Hardeep had been alive, Jas had woken up every morning at four and worked out for at least a couple of hours.
Then again, his job had been much more physical then. Hardeep had been a massively wealthy jet-setter who was also highly visible, with an equally visible wife. Every day had brought another event and security challenge.