What the Lady Wants

by Nika Rhone

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Nika Rhone

  What the Lady Wants

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  A word about the author…

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  Thea’s lips opened under his

  with little coaxing. Doyle felt the softness of her lips, the eager warmth of her tongue as it met his, and a part of him was amazed that this was actually happening. This was Thea. Thea. For all the doubts he’d had, for all the agonies he suffered trying to decide the rights and wrongs of it all, he knew now that this was exactly what he wanted.

  Right here. Right now. This was his woman, and he would stake his claim before another bout of stupid made him resist the idea again.

  Woman. God, yes, Thea was all that and more. The firm globes of her breasts pressed against his chest as she wrapped her arms around him. One of her hands sifted through his hair as the other clutched his shoulder as though to hold him in place. He almost laughed. Like he was going anyplace but where he was right at that moment.

  Praise for Nika Rhone

  “WHAT THE LADY WANTS is a fabulous debut that incorporates great characters, an intriguing story, and deep emotion. A must read.”

  ~National bestselling author Jeannie Moon

  What the Lady Wants

  by

  Nika Rhone

  Boulder Bodyguards Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  What the Lady Wants

  COPYRIGHT © 2017 by Nika Rhone

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: info@thewildrosepress.com

  Cover Art by Kristian Norris

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Crimson Rose Edition, 2017

  Print ISBN 978-1-5092-1537-9

  Digital ISBN 978-1-5092-1538-6

  Boulder Bodyguards Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To all the dreamers:

  Yes, you can.

  Acknowledgements

  While writing is, by nature, a solitary endeavor, no writer is ever truly alone on their journey, and I have found myself extraordinarily lucky in the people who have shared this trip with me so far. My undying gratitude goes to my LIRW friends, and most especially to my tribe: Jeannie Moon, Jolyse Barnett, Jennifer Gracen, Patty Blount, Maggie Van Well, Vivi Parish, Meara Platt, and Pamela Burford. You ladies totally rock.

  Many thanks to Cindy Davis, who helped let this story shine, and to The Wild Rose Press, who gave Thea and Doyle a wonderful new home.

  And finally, while my father may have instilled me with his love of books, it’s my husband, Dan, who has allowed me to spread my wings and explore my passion for writing, despite the time-suck that it can so often be. He’s never once complained about hot dogs for dinner again, or the Jurassic-sized dust bunnies lurking in corners when deadlines loom and I lock myself in my office.

  Thank you for believing in me, baby. You’re my very best hero.

  Chapter One

  “So, how much longer do you have to put up with your shadow?”

  Too long.

  Staring morosely into her coffee, Cynthia Fordham sighed. “At least until my parents get home from their trip.” Which was another three long weeks away.

  She hadn’t wanted or accepted a bodyguard in years, but Thea grudgingly agreed that for now, considering the circumstances, she’d have to have one with her whenever she left the family estate. Her mother wouldn’t have agreed to get on that plane otherwise, and there was no way in the world Thea would ruin her father’s extravagant plans to give her mom the mental and physical vacation that she so desperately needed.

  Not even if it meant giving up some of her own hard-won independence.

  For the most part, she didn’t mind her shadows. She liked the majority of them, and they knew her well enough to make the situation, if not enjoyable, then at least bearable. No, it was just Simon Poole who felt like a splinter under her fingernail, always making his presence known in painful little ways. Now, if Doyle were still one of her bodyguards, instead of having become their boss, she wouldn’t mind the close attention one little bit.

  Not that she’d ever managed to get Doyle to give her the kind of attention she craved from him. Not yet, anyway.

  “Are they still in Kenya?” Amelia Westlake asked, her light green eyes dancing with avid interest. “I am so going to bug your mom for pictures when they get back.”

  “They’re on safari until the end of the week,” Thea said, “and you know she’ll keep you captive for a whole day once she starts showing you her ten-thousand shot photo album.” She chewed her lower lip. “Maybe if I call my dad when they get back to civilization and ask really nice, he’ll agree to let Doyle give me a little more breathing room.”

  Or not. Frank Fordham tended to be a tad crazy when it came to protecting “his girls,” as he called her and her mother. It was one of the reasons Thea insisted on going out of state to attend college. Sometimes her father’s brand of love could be a little overwhelming.

  “He wouldn’t have wanted you protected if he didn’t feel there was a need.” Lillian Beaumont tore a bite off of the monstrous double chocolate chip muffin she’d been steadily consuming with her mocha latte. Thea had no idea where all the calories went, but as much as her petite friend ate, she never seemed to gain an ounce. Which was so unfair, since just looking at the thing had probably slapped a good half-inch onto her own waistline.

  “It’s not that big a deal,” she muttered and then sighed in resignation when Lillian gave her “the look.” “Okay, okay. I know, every threat is bad. I just really hate having someone watching me all the time.” She knew they’d understand, since they’d both made the same complaints over the years. Fighting the urge to steal a piece of the muffin, which looked so much better than her plain biscotti and smelled like chocolate heaven, she groaned. “I could put up with it for now if only he just wasn’t so…Simon.”

  Three sets of accusing eyes peered at the man sitting with his back t
o the wall of the coffeehouse, his body angled so he could view both the patrons coming in the door and the dozen or so already clustered around the various tables and booths sipping their cappuccinos and lattes. Like someone is going to jump me in the middle of Pot and Kettle. Thea gave a disgusted mental snort.

  But that was Simon. He was all about the job. A little too much so, if her opinion counted for anything, which it seemed it didn’t since he’d been assigned to her again today despite her previous objections.

  “He does look a little…intense,” Amelia said.

  “There’s a definite Clint Eastwood complex going on there.” Seated across the round bistro-style table from her two friends, Lillian flicked a finger at the spiky bangs edging her narrowed brown eyes as she scowled at Simon. With her elfin features and pixie haircut, she looked like an annoyed fairy. “Doesn’t he realize how ridiculous he looks?”

  “I was thinking more Men in Black myself.” Amelia cocked her head to study him. “I mean, come on, the suit, the sunglasses? Definite Will Smith wannabe.” The grin on her face slid away when it seemed like Simon’s gaze zeroed in on her. “I hate it when he does that,” she muttered into her mug, blushing. “It’s creepy.”

  Thea agreed. It wasn’t that Simon was a bad guy. He was just a little too into the whole bodyguard persona. If only he could at least try to blend in, maybe having him around wouldn’t be such a royal pain in her butt. Even Daryl Raintree didn’t stand out as badly, and that was saying a lot, considering Daryl was a six-foot-four, half-blooded Sioux. Daryl wore normal clothes. And smiled. And he wasn’t a jerk.

  “Why don’t you just ask Doyle not to put him on your detail?” Lillian asked.

  As always, thoughts of her father’s head of security sent mixed signals of frustration and warmth through Thea. She forced herself to ignore both. “I did.”

  “And?”

  Thea gave her stirrer a brisk turn around her cup in agitation. “He feels I have an unreasonable dislike of Simon, and basically told me that if I couldn’t give him a legitimate reason to remove him, then I should just pull up my big-girl panties and deal with it.”

  Amelia’s eyes widened. “Wow.”

  “Ouch,” Lillian agreed.

  Thea didn’t voice her own feelings. The memory of that conversation still chafed. All she’d done was make what was, to her, a simple and reasonable request. She didn’t need movie-star level protection. She normally didn’t require any, despite her father’s wealth, especially not here in Boulder, where she’d grown up and had always felt extremely comfortable and safe. Personal security was saved for special occasions, and if there was some kind of credible threat.

  Like now.

  And, as Doyle had reminded her, since a large chunk of his team was half a world away with her parents, there were only so many people he could spare to accompany her when she decided to “flit around town” with her friends. That had hurt. Thea knew she could be accused of doing a lot of things, but “flitting” wasn’t one of them. She just couldn’t stand to stay locked in at the family estate 24/7. It would drive her insane.

  Especially since Doyle was there.

  Shoving away the shaft of pain that unfair accusation jabbed into her, she determined to put both Doyle and Simon out of her mind, and enjoy the time out with her friends. “So, how goes the wedding plans?”

  Amelia had surprised them both by getting engaged the previous month. She and Charles Davenport had only been dating for a few months and mostly long distance at that. Since she’d spent the first sixteen years of her life being trotted out for display at one political function or another by her senator father, and hating every minute of it, her engagement to an up-and-coming young politician had come as something of a shock to her friends.

  But since Amelia seemed to love her fiancé, and so far it seemed that he returned the sentiment, they were trying hard to be supportive of her decision. Although privately, Thea thought Charles was a bit of an arrogant ass.

  “Oh, things are going fine.” Amelia toyed with her mug, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Mother and Mrs. Davenport assure me that they have everything well in hand.”

  Thea glanced at Lillian, who met her gaze with an answering frown of concern.

  “Mellie, honey,” Lillian said, “you’re not letting them take over everything, are you?”

  The way Amelia shifted in her seat was answer enough. Her quiet nature tended to allow people to walk all over her. Her mother certainly did. The woman was a human pit bull. With the addition of Mrs. Davenport, the two political grand dames were likely to steamroll right over Amelia’s—and probably Charles’s—wishes without giving either the bride or groom a second thought.

  Poor Amelia would end up lucky to get an invitation to her own wedding.

  “Oh, Mellie,” Lillian said.

  Amelia shook her head, her cheeks reddening again, something the fair skin she’d inherited along with her pale blonde hair tended to do with great frequency. “No, it’s okay, really,” she said. “They know how to plan an event like this. I don’t.” She managed a strained smile. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass Charles.”

  Judging from Amelia’s expression, Thea was pretty sure she was repeating a sentiment she’d heard a lot lately. She put a comforting hand on her friend’s arm. “Honey, you couldn’t embarrass Charles if you tried.”

  The strained quality softened, but the smile remained more wan than happy.

  “He’s at the most important stage of his career, when everyone’s eyes are on him. Everything has to be perfect for him.” Amelia refocused on Thea, and asked, “Speaking of careers, how goes the job hunt?”

  Leave it to Amelia to find the one topic Thea was excited enough about to allow the blatant use of her own tactics against her. She beamed with delight. “I think I might have gotten it.”

  “Which one is this?” Lillian asked.

  “Timberlake Interiors,” Thea answered with no little amount of pride. It was one of the most prestigious firms in the state and, best of all, based right there in Boulder. “I interviewed with Janice Timberlake herself last Friday, and I think I made a good impression. She seemed to like my portfolio, and we got along really well.” That was as important to Thea as salary or benefits. Maybe more. She couldn’t see herself working for someone she didn’t like.

  “What about…the other thing?”

  “The other thing” was what had kept Thea from taking the half-dozen jobs she’d already interviewed for in the months since returning home from college. Never mind that her grades had been top notch, or the letters of recommendation from both her teachers and the firm she interned with during her senior year. All that had mattered to her prospective employers had been the name Fordham on her résumé. As in Fordham Electronics. As in Money, with a very capital M.

  By the Timberlake interview, Thea knew to address all of the important issues in the first five minutes. With a determination that would have done even Mrs. Westlake proud, she reassured Janice Timberlake that as far as she was concerned, the name Fordham didn’t make her any better—or worse—than anyone else. If she was hired, her job would in no way be influenced by her family’s wealth or social standing.

  “I think I managed to put that behind me this time.” Thea mentally crossed her fingers. She wanted this job. She didn’t need the paycheck, but she did need to have something to do with her life that didn’t include living off her trust fund, or taking a position in her father’s company. Thea loved her father dearly, but she wanted her own life. A nine-to-five job in an office just wasn’t for her.

  Interior design intrigued her on a visceral level. She loved playing with color and texture, and matching the feel of a room to the person who would be using it. Madison Helmsworth, the owner of the firm she’d interned with, had told her she had a natural eye. She’d also only half-jokingly predicted that Thea would have her own design firm within five years.

  While starting her own business held a definite appeal Thea needed some pr
actical experience first to establish her credentials. That was why she was excited about the Timberlake job. If she got it, she knew it would be because she was considered an asset rather than a trophy.

  Most of all, though, it meant she could stay in Boulder, although she wouldn’t admit to anyone that it wasn’t just her family she wanted to stay close to. She’d spent four years at college trying to squash her feelings for Brennan Doyle. He’d dealt her eighteen-year-old ego a huge blow before she’d left for California, and she had been determined to get over him once and for all. Unrequited love was hell on a person’s self-confidence.

  But after less than a week back home, she’d known that nothing had changed. She still loved the big jerk as much as ever.

  Now she just had to decide what she was going to do about it.

  “When will you know if you got it?” Amelia asked.

  “She’s supposed to call me by the end of the week.” Which meant every day until then would be spent on pins and needles waiting for the phone to ring.

  As they discussed which shops they wanted to browse through that afternoon, they cleared the small table, dumped their trash, and headed for the restroom. Before Thea could touch the door, however, a hand appeared to block her. She tensed, knowing whose it was and what he wanted, and bit back a hiss of displeasure.

  She waved at the door with a flourish. “Go ahead. Be my guest.” Scowling at Simon’s back wasn’t satisfying enough, so she added with a saccharine smile, “Could you make sure there’s paper in all the stalls while you’re in there, too?”

  Lillian stifled a snort, but Thea was feeling far from amused. There was being a good bodyguard, and then there was being a jerk that couldn’t see the line between necessary and excessive. Yes, both Francine and Kirsten would have gone into the restroom with her if they were on duty, but they would have made it feel natural. Low-key. Unlike Simon, who managed to push all of her mad buttons without even trying.

  Ignoring him when he came out and gave the all clear, Thea pushed through the door, followed by Lillian and Amelia. Her friends continued their discussion of their shopping plans as they touched up their makeup, but Thea found her joy in the day had soured. Her feelings must have shown because Lillian gave her a hip bump and grinned into the mirror at her.