“No.”
His smile slips a few notches as his gaze makes a subtle assessment of me right down to my shoes. “Then you’re the bodyguard, I presume.”
“That’s correct.” I hold my hand out. “Lily Evans.”
His brows tug together. “You’re not British.”
“No, I’m originally from the States.”
He shakes my hand, then heads toward the terminal doors. I follow him, keeping my focus on every moving part surrounding us until he steps to the side into an enclosed area away from the throng of people.
“Mr. Maxwell?—”
He stops and turns around. “Payton, please. I prefer not to feel as if I’ve stepped into my father’s shoes, thank you.”
I nod as I knew at some point I would switch to using hisfirst name to fit the whole fake bride persona. Just didn’t seem appropriate to start there right away.
“Of course. Payton. We have approximately forty-five minutes to go through security and get to the gate?—”
He holds up his hand. “Look, I appreciate what my sister is trying to do here, but it’s entirely unnecessary.”
“But I’ve been hired?—”
Again, he stops me by lifting his hand, drawing my attention to his forearms and broad hands with long fingers. And for a brief second, I wonder what he looks like in his hockey uniform on the ice.
“Yes, I know. Emalia filled me in, and I informed her I would go along with her little plan to appease her, but I don’t need a bodyguard.”
“She told me you’d say that.” I scan our surroundings, keeping tabs on a few lingerers.
He pulls his head back. “She did?”
“Oh yes. In fact, she said you’d try to convince me to leave.”
Finger pressed beneath his full bottom lip, he blinks in thought. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Emalia knows me better than anyone. But that just simplifies things, don’t you think?”
“How so?”
Payton shrugs. “My sister already expects that I’ll send you off. So that’s settled, then.”
“No. It’s not.” I shake my head as I say this.
This time, he sighs. “All right. Then I have a proposal.”
I study his angular features—the pulse in his jawline, the set of his mouth, the pinch of his brows—he’s scrambling for a way out of this. The least I can do is humor him until he finally realizes I’m not going anywhere. “I’m listening.”
Hope flashes in his crystal blues, almost making me feel guilty that I’m about to kibosh his plan. “You can escort me through security to my gate. You can even waituntil I get on the plane if you’d like. Then you’ll have completed the most important part of your assignment.”
“How do you figure?”
“Any threat,” his brows lift, “if thereisany threat, is here in the UK. Not in the States. So once I board the plane, you’re free to go.”
I shake my head for the second time, and I suspect it won’t be the last. “Then we’d best get you to your gate.”
Chapter Three
PAYTON
I should probably feel guiltier than I do, leaving my sister to deal with her new title and responsibilities. However, I know she’ll be a whiz at it. She’s built for it, whereas I am not.
