As If You Were Mine (Seriously Sweet St Louis #2) - Cindy Kirk Page 0,1

it your way. I’m not inflexible. If you only want Crow as your bodyguard, that’s fine too.”

“Crow?” A faint image of a martial arts master flashed through Sara’s mind. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Tell me you haven’t been drinking.”

Meg gasped.

“James!” Sara shot him a scathing look. “What in the world has gotten into you?”

Although Meg freely admitted she’d been an alcoholic, James also knew she hadn’t had a drink in five years. She’d quit drinking the year before she’d taken over handling Sara’s career and she’d been sober since.

“I’m sorry, Meg,” James said, sounding remorseful. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“Apology accepted,” Meg said smoothly with no expression on her face, but her eyes were stony with anger. “To answer your question. No, I haven’t been drinking. And no, I’m not kidding. Not at all.”

“I seem to be putting my foot in my mouth a lot today, so I hope you don’t take this wrong.” James moved to stand behind Sara and his hand dropped to rest loosely on her shoulder. “It appears to me that having a bodyguard or not having a bodyguard is Sara’s decision, not yours.”

“I’m her manager. And her friend.” Meg’s gaze shifted to Sara. “Unless that’s not what you want anymore.”

Meg’s expression was carefully controlled but her hands were knotted on her lap. Sara knew Meg realized the chance she was taking, pushing the issue.

It was no secret that for months James had been trying to get Sara to move her management contract to a firm run by one of his friends. A firm he said had the ability to make her into a superstar.

“Sara. You don’t want this investigation pushed,” James said persuasively. “You’ve told me so yourself.”

That much was certainly true. The thought of what such an investigation might uncover turned Sara’s blood cold. But the thought of hurting Meg, who’d been more of a mother to her than her own had ever been, was unbearable.

Dear God, please help me.

“Meg is talking bodyguard, James,” Sara said finally, flashing a reassuring smile at her manager. “Not a P.I. or a cop. Right, Meg?”

Meg hesitated for a moment and then nodded. “That’s right.”

“Well, then.” Sara smiled brightly. “I don’t see any problem. I’m not sure when I’ll be able to meet this Mr. Crow—”

“It’s just Crow,” Meg interrupted. “As far as when, why not now?”

Sara frowned. “Now?”

Meg rose from the overstuffed chair. “He’s in the foyer waiting. I’ll go get him.”

“He’s here?” Sara forced herself to remain calm. She needed to slow things down. The trouble was, she didn’t know how to do that without arousing suspicion. Still, he was only a bodyguard. And he would be working for her.

“You certainly didn’t waste any time getting this all arranged,” James said.

A self-satisfied smile crossed Meg’s face. “Sara pays me to keep on top of things.”

He stiffened as though Meg had struck him.

Sara hid a smile. One of James’s selling points for the new firm was that they’d keep on top of the changes in the industry. But in the year he’d been her publicist, he’d never taken the time to get to know Meg. Or to give her any credit.

In Sara’s mind, there wasn’t a better manager in the business. And it didn’t surprise her in the least that Meg had come with all her ducks in a row, fully prepared.

“What are we waiting for?” Sara said. “Bring him in.”

Salvadore “Crow” Tucci shifted uncomfortably on the rock-hard settee and glanced down at his watch.

The fifteen minutes of waiting had been pure torture. Unlike many guys who could sit in a recliner all afternoon watching football, Crow needed activity—the more physical the better.

That’s why he’d chosen law enforcement after graduating from college instead of becoming a physician like his brother Nick, or a lawyer like his other brother Tony.

At first his parents had been supportive. But when he’d gotten promoted and gone undercover, all that changed. His mother’s fears skyrocketed out of control. She was certain every time he took an assignment that his cover would be blown and he’d get shot. His father worried more about him adopting a new identity for weeks or months than he did about the physical danger.

Crow had dismissed these concerns. And for the first three years he had little difficulty separating his personal life from the life he led as an undercover cop. Recently he’d noticed a subtle shift. He’d started to feel more like Crow than Sal. He’d become suspicious and cynical and his temper had