Never Kiss Your Bodyguard - Christine Kersey

Chapter One

Chloe strummed the guitar in her hands, her eyes closed, her entire being focused on the notes that filled the space around her. In the cozy music room inside her ridiculously large house—more of a mansion, really—she could hear the song she was creating before her fingers ran across the strings of her favorite guitar. It was that magical moment when she could feel the song as she created it, knew it would be a hit. The melody surrounded her, filled her up. She was one with it, each individual note claiming a place in her soul. The lyrics she had already written fell into their perfect place as she felt herself soaring above it all.

Ding-dong!

The doorbell rang, followed by a resounding knock. Her eyes snapped open. She was yanked out of the flow.

Supremely annoyed, she frowned deeply. Getting into the flow was always a challenge, especially when she was composing original music. Interruptions were her worst enemy. She hit the pause button on the recording app on her phone. She always recorded her work when she was composing. That way, when she was working in the studio with her creative team, she would be able to remember exactly how she wanted a particular song to sound. And it was critical to get it right. Expectations for her next album were high. Not only what she expected from herself, but her fans and her record label were expecting great things as well. It had been nearly a year since she’d released her second album. That one had rocketed up the charts, propelling her to pop star status. Only trouble was, now she felt the pressure to exceed its success.

The doorbell rang again, followed by another strong knock.

Normally Beth, her assistant and best friend, would answer the door, but she was at a doctors appointment that morning. No one else was in the house, which was just how Chloe preferred it. The rest of her team—business manager, public relations person, creative team, and glam squad—stayed away unless absolutely necessary. Especially when she was working. Which had now abruptly come to an end, thanks to whomever was at her door.

Sighing audibly, Chloe set her guitar aside and marched to the front door. The thick, dark wood that separated her from the world was beautiful and imposing, but as she reached for the knob, she hesitated. What if it was a fan who had scaled her security gate? That hadn’t happened since moving to this mansion in the hills above Los Angeles, but it was a possibility. Then again, if it wasn’t for the fans, she wouldn’t be able to make a living—an extremely lucrative living—doing what she loved. Still, that didn’t mean she had to let them approach her at her home, her sanctuary. Then she thought about her manager, Scotty, who had been trying to convince her to beef up security Though she understood his concerns, she desperately wanted to keep her life as normal as possible. Being suddenly thrust into the spotlight had been a challenge, but she still clung to as much of her previous life as she could. Like being able to answer her front door without fear.

With a soft sigh, she tugged the door open.

A man who looked like he was in his late twenties stood on her porch. Over six feet tall, he wore dark gray slacks and a form-fitting, light blue dress shirt that did nothing to hide his muscular biceps and trim body. His black hair was short, as was his beard. His eyes—a startling blue with a hint of pale green—seemed to pierce her as they zoomed in on her face. And he was scowling. One of his eyebrows arched “You shouldn’t be answering your door.”

She recoiled at his audacity, her mouth falling open as she made a scoffing sound. What the heck? He’d interrupted her, and now he was telling her that she shouldn’t be answering her own door? Who did he think he was? And how did he get through the gate?

Beyond irritated, Chloe glared at him. She would show him what she thought of him and his idiotic remark. She shoved the door to close it, but it stopped a good six inches from the door frame. She pushed harder, but it didn’t budge. That’s when she noticed that his foot was wedged in the doorway. “What do you think you’re doing?” Her voice dripped with contempt.

He glanced down at his foot with a frown before meeting her gaze. “This