1. Katie

Chapter 1

Katie

T oday is the day when my new alien bodyguard arrives at my home.

I glance at my cell phone. In fact, he will be here in exactly thirty minutes.

Holy shit.

He’s originally from another planet but now lives on Earth and works for a high-tech security agency called Spartan Shield Corp, which sounds impressive.

My dad calls him “the best hunter in the known universe.”

I bite at my lip and look around my home. I've been frantically cleaning since the moment I found out this guy was arriving but there’s still so much to do, considering my new bodyguard insists on living here with me to provide the ultimate amount of protection.

He’s going to basically move in for the next month, at least.

This is so weird. I’m thankful to have this type of protection, considering my life has changed to the point where strangers now send me death threats. I really do need security. But I’ve never had a bodyguard and I don’t even know how this works. Do they always move into the same house with the person they’re protecting?

I guess so.

I’ve worked hard on the front room and the kitchen this entire morning. The spare bedroom, which is really my home office, is still a cluttered mess and the floor needs to be swept again.

I grab the broom and get to work.

Stacks of books are quickly put away where they belong, in the bookcase. My two-bedroom home is nothing fancy, but it does have lots of quirky, historic, San Francisco charm which I love. I pick up anything else on the floor, readying to sweep. My home is great, but it’s also hard to clean, considering it’s over a hundred years old with fancy baseboards and nooks and crannies that always need dusting. The hardwood floors are worn but glossy and all the baseboards, doors and windows are restored originals.

Both bedrooms have views of trees and the back of the house. But the views out the front windows are epic.

I’m able to afford this special place because it was purchased for me by my parents. I don’t pay rent and instead own this house.

How lucky am I?

This is all because my family has invested in San Francisco real estate for generations, and now we are each able to own a historic home in the winding streets of the city we love.

My parents live in the house I grew up in, in Pacific Heights, that they inherited, and despite all the narrow stairs, declare they are never leaving. My grandparents still live in a grand old house my grandmother inherited from her mother, and she and my grandfather have remodeled it to perfection. My aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings each own their own homes too in the city, all of which were either inherited or were purchased for them.

After I turned twenty-five and finished college, it was my turn. When I came back home after a bad break up and started a decent entry level job, my family used part of my inheritance to buy this small home for me. It’s fully paid for and I’ve been living here for two years.

Shelby, my best friend from childhood, was my roommate, but she recently moved to LA for a promotion. I’m sad that she’s gone, but the good news is that I don’t have to rush to find a replacement roommate because I don’t have to worry about rent or a mortgage. I have the freedom to choose to live alone.

My college was paid for too, and my job pays for everything I need. When I go on family vacations, my parents pay for that too. This means I don’t have much credit card debt and even my car is paid for.

Basically, I’ve got it good. I know my life is way easier than most other people and I don’t take that for granted.

I tackle a pile of clean clothes on the spare bed, fold them and put them away, and make sure the room looks nice and neat. Shelby took her furniture with her, so I recently bought couches for the front room, a new TV and this extra bed for visitors. Everything is bright and light, which makes me happy because the weather can get dark and cloudy around here.

I rush through the front room, putting away the broom, and glance out the front windows. Fog still covers the bay and the buildings down below. A wide smile spreads across my face because this view never gets old. I love seeing it throughout the change of seasons. Not everyone in my family cares about a stunning ocean and city view like I do. They enjoy other pockets of town better, but I live on a hilly, tree-lined street with sweeping views of the bay. My historic little neighborhood is safe and charming, filled with tall, narrow houses that are well-kept and painted in lively colors. It’s the kind of location where a person could live their whole life and never move away, because finding something better is impossible.

Shelby took her cat that I liked more than I realized and it’s been pretty darn quiet around here. No friend to chat with or cute pet to spoil. Just work, home and time with family. Mainly work and home.

Maybe I’m ready to try again for a new boyfriend. I’ve had no luck finding someone “normal” on any of those dating apps, so I gave up and now I’m thinking of getting a dog or a cat. Or both.

Then that dreaded jury duty letter came in the mail. Ugh. I hate jury duty. Why do I get called in so often? It’s crazy.

I still get paid if I’m gone for jury duty, but there's a lot going on at my job, and I kind of feel bad being gone, because that's more work for everyone else who must take over my projects. And I still, I admit, try and do some work from home.

I didn’t think much of it at first, just a day off from work.

But this time, I got picked to be in the jury. That was a shocker. And then on top of that, it turns out it's a high-profile case of a celebrity accused of tax fraud. After the jury was chosen, my identity was leaked, even though we were supposed to be anonymous. Great. Soon the press was all over me, with my picture on the evening news. The defendant, who is out on bail and talking every day to the media, said it wasn’t appropriate that I was on the jury because I was “too young and didn’t look very smart.”

Grr.

And then the death threats started.

I take a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves, because that part really does freak me out. I look out the windows again, this time noting the police car stationed out front.

Dad went ballistic. He wanted me off that jury, asap.

But, you know, I think I should not be intimidated.

I refused to step down and told the judge that I was staying, even though I'd been outed. The police warned me that they couldn’t provide the amount of extra protection I would need.

My parents wanted me to move in with them, but my older sister had recently broken up with her cheating ex-husband and now she lives in my parents’ home with her three small kids, one of whom is a small, colicky baby. And she brought along four hyper dogs. And two iguanas.

I love them all, but no.

That's when my dad said, “If you’re going to stay on that jury and live in that old, exposed house, then I'm hiring private security for you.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

I know. I feel bad because it’s not cheap. In fact it’s fantastically expensive. And my parents canceled a long-ago planned anniversary cruise to Hawaii, out of Pier 39 in San Francisco, to instead stay in town to make sure that I’m kept safe.

But, again, I think it’s important that I’m not intimidated and instead allowed to remain on that jury to perform my civic duty. Yes, I’m a woman still in her twenties, but I’m not a wimp. I might be young but I’m not stupid. I’d like to think I’m stronger than I appear. And if I have the ability to stick this out, then I should do it.

I look at the clock. My new bodyguard arrives in five minutes.

Eeek. I run my fingers through my hair because I still cannot get over this change in my life. The craziest part is that my bodyguard isn’t even human.

My dad was so proud. “I got you an alien hunter from Spartan Shield Corp.”

“What?” I sputtered. “I don't even know what you're talking about. How can a bodyguard not even be human?”

He sent a blurry picture over the phone of someone from a distance, walking off a freaking spaceship. “That’s him.”

“Dad, isn’t this a little over the top? Can’t you just hire security from an agency right here in the city?”

“His name is Vander Best. I was lucky to get him. He's new to the planet, and I want you to have the best.”

“His last name is Best?”

“Yes. Because he’s the best.”

I snort-laughed while sipping coffee, which was a mess.

“Vander feels the only way to truly protect you is to move into the apartment with you.”

“Ugh, okay.”

Now I have to clean more, which makes me irritated. Last night I made sure the bathroom sparkled, because my apartment only has one bathroom. I'm going to have to share a bathroom with this alien.

I hope this doesn't mean that his wife and kids are going to be here too, because that would be weird. I mean, I'm just trying to get used to one alien. I wonder what his wife and kids look like. I mean, I assume he's married, right? He's older, I think, than me. I mean, hopefully he's not too old and that he really can do this. Maybe he needs to stay in the same apartment, because he's not that strong?

Oh, God, I don't know.

Okay, the guest bedroom now looks decent and isn’t embarrassing anymore. The house smells like air freshener. I make the small twin bed that I hope is going to be big enough in the guest room.

My hair is a sweaty mess and I’m still wearing my shortest shorts and my favorite tank top, an oversized cardigan and well-used slippers. I need to change, brush my teeth and put on some makeup.

And then there's a knock on the front door.

Oh hell. I button up the cardigan. This will have to do. He’s going to be living with me and will see me like this often anyways. I take a deep breath, smooth down my long brown hair and walk to the door and open it.

A squeak of fear escapes my lips.

“Katie Ross?” a deep voice booms.

I lift my chin. Holy crap, he’s huge. And he’s most certainly not of this planet.

I examine this alien from head to toe. Luckily, I’m not completely unaware of aliens. There are already two other species who have recently set up embassies here on Earth and they trade with us and all is well. I’ve long ago gotten over the freak out over the fact that other species on distant planets really do exist and they want to befriend us here on Earth. But I’ve never meet any of these aliens in real life, only seen them on the news or social media.

And this alien has blue skin. After a moment’s surprise at this unusual pigment, I’m clueing in that he looks sexy and, in fact, deadly.

His black hair is cut very short and he’s got a spectacular black beard. He’s not wearing a shirt and his chest is bare, allowing a terrific visual of flat abs and muscular arms. Black utility-looking pants and heavy black boots complete his outfit. And there is a belt around his waist and across his chest and he carries a backpack.

And there are so many weapons strapped to his body and none of them are recognizable. They all look very alien and high tech.

I meet his dark gaze and see the thick eyelashes and lush, kissable lips.

Oh wow.

I had no idea the alien hunter who was hired to protect me during jury duty was going to turn out to be a sexy beast.

But I’m already shifting on my feet, trying to relieve the heat between my thighs.

Uh oh, this is going to be tricky.