Bodyguard Confessions. Donna Young

my job.” Her voice hardened on the last word. “I just wish I was better at it.”

      “Sandra—”

      “Just take your medicine when you can, okay?”

      “Okay.” Quamar’s smile, while brief, took his features from attractive to heart-stopping handsome.

      Little pinpricks of warning skittered down Anna’s spine. She groaned silently.

      Featherlight fingers touched Anna’s arm. “Come, Anna.” Elizabeth glanced at her daughter, then to the giant. “I’m assuming that you will allow Anna to close the bathroom door?”

      Anna automatically held the prince tighter. “Rashid can stay with me,” she said, not realizing until she spoke that her statement was almost identical to Quamar’s earlier one.

      “You might just understand Quamar better than I thought,” Elizabeth responded.

      “Put Rashid on the bed, Anna,” Quamar ordered. “I will watch him.”

      Anna started to protest, but knew it was a waste of time.

      “You can change his diaper, then, too.”

      Quamar grunted. But whether it was a yes or no, she couldn’t decide.

      She pulled Rashid out of the sling that held him close, then placed him down in the middle of the bed. At six months, his hair had grown into a thick mop of pitch-black. She touched it with trembling fingers.

      This time, Elizabeth placed her hand on Anna’s shoulder lightly—a mother’s comforting touch. “He’ll be fine.”

      Without waiting for Anna to respond, Elizabeth eyed Quamar. “You don’t look like you need clothes, which is a blessing. Omar is shorter than you by a few inches. And leaner. His robes wouldn’t fit.” Elizabeth glanced at her daughter. “Sandra, find Anna some clothes from Jamaal’s room.” She turned back to Anna. “He is my son. Studying also to be a doctor in the United States. He is built smaller—like my family—so his clothes should fit you better.”

      “Men’s clothes?” Anna asked.

      Quamar answered for Elizabeth. “They will be looking for a woman with a baby. Not two men.”

      Elizabeth paused, considering. “Of course, we’re going to have to hide your figure.”

      Anna felt Quamar’s gaze run over her, and she looked down. Her body wasn’t svelte, but curvy with a small waist that flared into rounded hips and thighs.

      Now with the sling off, the pajamas stuck to her like a second skin. She wore no bra under the tank top, something she did only at night. Her breasts were too large to go braless any other time. Heat rose in her face.

      “And hide your hair.” Elizabeth ran a hand over Anna’s blond locks. “Maybe cut the length shorter so you appear more masculine.”

      “No,” Quamar answered, abruptly enough to raise the older woman’s eyebrows. “The turban will cover her head. If it comes off, they will see it is blond and it won’t matter whether it is short or long. It cannot be helped.”