She shook her head. “It’s not.”
“You don’t know me, Natalie. I grew up with everything. Money. Enough smarts to do well in school. Opportunities to do anything I wanted. I’ve never had to sacrifice for anything, not my entire life.”
“So you grew up wealthy. So did I.”
Now it was his turn for a head shake. “You’re very different from me.”
“How?”
“First, your father was a self-made man. He sacrificed a lot to build Kendall Communications.”
“So did my uncle and my brother. But I didn’t.”
“I’m willing to bet you sacrificed time with your dad. I’ll bet he was never home.”
“No, I suppose he wasn’t. My memory of my parents is a little foggy. I was only six when they died.” She bit her bottom lip and blinked as if driving back tears. “But I sometimes wonder if they were very happy. I have shadowy memories, but I don’t know if they’re all that accurate. I asked my aunt, but she kind of avoided the whole topic.”
“That’s the other thing. You lost both your parents so young. I can’t imagine a bigger sacrifice.”
She turned her face to the side, but she couldn’t hide her tears.
He felt for Natalie. He couldn’t imagine losing his parents at age six. He couldn’t imagine losing his parents at all. Right now they were in Italy, exploring Venice. But they would be back to celebrate Christmas. He could count on it. And that was an assurance Natalie would never have. “So you see, we’re very different.”
“But you jumped into heavy traffic to save me. And you risked your life to get me out of the line of fire last night.”
“It’s my job.”
She narrowed her eyes on him, as if she could see right through his defenses and into his heart. “Is that why you took the job? To prove you can sacrifice your life like your friend did?”
He’d asked himself that countless times. And each time, he came up with the same answer. “Probably.”
“You know, even if you do manage to get yourself killed, it won’t bring your friend back.”
His chest felt hollow. “I know that. It also won’t erase my failure in Yemen.”
“But you didn’t fail. You said you kept the ship from being bombed.”
“I lost men.”
“It isn’t just about sacrifice then. You blame yourself for your friend’s death.”
He didn’t know what to say. Of course he did. And he knew nothing he could ever do would change the fact that Jimbo was dead, when it should have been him.
“That’s what my nightmares are about.”
Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and at first he wasn’t sure what she said. “The nightmares you painted?”
She nodded. “I could have stopped my parents’ murders.”
He studied her for a moment, not sure what to make of her statement. He’d heard of children blaming themselves for their parents’ divorce. He supposed a child could feel as if she should have stopped a murder, too. But Natalie was no longer a child. Surely she could see that a little girl could never wield such power. “You were six years old.”
“Someone came into my room that night. At first, I thought it was Santa. It was Christmas Eve, you know. Then when I saw he wasn’t fat and didn’t have a big beard, I figured it was my dad. When he worked late, he’d sometimes come in and check on me before he went to bed.”
“But it wasn’t your dad?”
“I don’t think so. I think it was their murderer.”
The man’s face cloaked in shadow. The dark figure in her paintings. “How do you know it was the killer?”
“I don’t, really. It’s just a feeling.” She stared at the tiles covering the walls and arching across the ceiling.
Gray had to wonder if she was looking at the mosaics at all, or if she only saw her memories. “You can’t blame yourself for a hunch you’re having twenty years after the fact.”
Natalie glanced at him for a second and then looked away.
She wasn’t going to let herself off the hook. At least not because of what he had to say. “What do you remember? What did the man do?”
“He was sitting on the edge of my bed when I woke up. He was watching me.” She bit her bottom lip.
“Do you remember what he looked like? Any facial features? What he was wearing?”
She shook her head. “There was a light in the hall behind him. It was dim, but compared to the darkness in my room everything seemed black. I could only see his silhouette, just enough to know he wasn’t Santa.”
“So he sat on your bed. What else do you remember?”
She looked past Gray, as if back in her bedroom all those years ago. “I remember him touching my hair, very gently, as if I was the most precious thing in the world to him. And he smiled at me. I couldn’t see his face, not really, but I could feel his smile. It felt like a nice smile.”
“Did your dad usually do that kind of thing when he checked on you?”
She gave her head a little shake. “He never did. He would just peek in the doorway for a few seconds, then leave. But I always wanted him to sit on my bed, to check on me. I think that’s why I believed it was my father. I wanted it to be him.”
So far, he couldn’t see a reason she was so certain it wasn’t her father. The fact that he usually checked on her from a distance didn’t mean he hadn’t sat on her bed that night. There had to be more. “Did he say anything?”
“Go back to sleep. That’s what he said.”
“Did you recognize his voice?”
“That’s just it. His voice wasn’t my dad’s.” She focused on Gray, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I should have screamed. Right then, I should have screamed as loud as I could. If I had, my parents would still be here.”
Gray’s throat ached. He wanted to say something, but he didn’t know what. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and make everything better, but he knew that wasn’t so simple. Instead, he said nothing, did nothing, just waited for her to continue if she chose.
She looked away from him, took a deep breath and swiped at her eyes with her fingertips.
The air in the basilica was still as that of a tomb, and for a long time there was no sound besides her ragged breathing. He could smell the fragrance of her hair, something slightly floral, sweet. He wondered if her skin smelled the same way. He wondered what she would do if he leaned in close and nuzzled her neck, if he took her in his arms. He wondered if he could help ease her pain, if anyone could.
Finally she turned back to look at him, shadows cupping her reddened eyes.
“It’s okay,” he said, his voice the slightest whisper.
She shook her head. “No. It will never be okay. I should have screamed, but I didn’t make a sound. I just pretended it was my daddy who touched my hair, who looked at me like that. And early the next morning, I went into my parents’ bedroom to see if they were ready to go down to the tree and see what Santa brought, and I found them. Dead.”
Chapter Twelve
The days running up to Ash and Rachel’s wedding were uneventful, much to Natalie’s relief. Gray moved into her cottage and slept on the sofa, and it was all she could do to keep herself from wandering out in the middle of the night to see what might happen.
Nearly every night she dreamed of lying naked on his bed, the moonlight illuminating his face as he watched her. Sometimes she touched herself in her dream, massaging her breasts and sliding her fingers between her legs. Sometimes she just lay there with splayed thighs and begged him to join her. But he never did. And every time, after she’d pleasured herself in front of him or grown exhausted from begging, every single time, he turned away from her, walked out and left her alone in the room.
She didn’t need a psychology degree to figure out the meaning of that one.
She leaned close to the bathroom mirror and finished putting on her second coat of waterproof mascara. That day in the basilica, the way she’d poured out her heart to Gray, had chan
ged things between them. But she suspected it was really her it had changed. She wanted Gray more each day. And while he did seem in tune with her and as wonderful as ever, there was a distance, too. A physical one, for sure. But also an emotional uncertainty. As if neither one of them knew what happened next and neither one was bold enough to take that step, even if they did.
She wasn’t going to dwell on her impossible longings today. Nor her insecurities. Nor the threat to her life, the only reason Gray was still with her. Today was her brother’s wedding, and she couldn’t wait to get to the chapel they’d chosen for the ceremony and into that beautiful dress.
It was a day to celebrate love.
She found Gray waiting in the living room. Dressed in one of the most gorgeous tuxedos she’d ever seen, he looked like a movie star waiting to take a red-carpet stroll.
“You’re wearing that?” she joked.
He turned a smile on her. It faded to confusion as he took in her jeans, blouse and cardigan. “Ready to go?” He glanced at his watch.
“Yup. How do I look?” She did a pirouette. She started laughing before she’d completed a three-sixty. “We’re changing into our dresses at the chapel. That way they don’t get wrinkled before the ceremony.”
“I knew that.” He gave a chuckle and stretched his arm out as if dramatically ushering her out the door. His tuxedo jacket opened with the gesture, revealing a crisp white shirt and a black holstered gun.
Natalie swallowed, her throat dry. She’d gotten used to Gray being armed, even gotten used to having a bodyguard. But somehow it was still a little sobering to see his weapon even under his festive, formal attire.
A reminder of reality.
The ride to the chapel didn’t take long. As they parked outside and walked to the front steps, Natalie couldn’t help thinking how lucky Ash and Rachel were to find such a lovely place in such a short time. The best wedding venues in St. Louis tended to book up a year in advance and often more. And this chapel, with its classic spire and picture-perfect front steps, was one of the most charming Natalie had ever seen.
A huge graveyard flanked the building and stretched several lots deep. But due to the many trees and amazing landscaping, it looked more like an expansive garden than a cemetery. It really was perfect. As bad as she felt for whoever the couple was who had to cancel their wedding, she was glad Ash and Rachel had the opportunity to slip into their place.
They climbed the steps and entered the front doors. Natalie led Gray through the narthex and into the nave. The first thing Natalie noticed was the beautiful yet simple stonework behind the altar. The second thing was the scent.
The flowers in the graveyard gardens outside were winding down for the winter, but the altar was blooming with breathtaking arrangements of roses and seasonal planters of chrysanthemums. Two tables behind the back pews held low boxes filled with boutonnieres and corsages ready for the family and wedding party to don when they arrived.
People were scattered throughout the chapel. A string quartet warmed up just to the right of the altar, playing scales and tuning their instruments. Aunt Angela bustled down the center aisle, adjusting pew bows. Uncle Craig stood grimacing while the florist pinned a white rose to the lapel of his tux. A few of Ash’s friends from the force stood joking in the corner and stashing bags of streamers, clattering cans and who-knew-what that Natalie assumed would soon festoon Ash’s car.
“So where do you need to be?” Gray said, voice clipped and businesslike.
“The church office. Rachel and Jolie are probably already there.”
“All right.” He turned to lead the way.
Natalie grabbed his arm. “Wait.”
He turned back to look at her.
Nearly as soon as his gaze touched hers, it darted off, circling the room, checking the perimeter. Under his tux jacket, his muscles felt hard as rock.
“You’re so tense.”
“This place might not be huge, but there are a lot of ingresses, egresses. I have a lot to check before the wedding starts.”
“Okay. Of course, I don’t want to keep you. But there’s one more thing.” She plucked a boutonniere from one of the boxes.
“Oh, I don’t need a flower.”
She pulled the pins from the tape-wrapped stems. “Actually, you do. You may be my bodyguard, but today you’re also my date.”
His eyes met hers, and he gave her a little smile. “Then by all means.”
She didn’t remember a time when she was so clumsy. After sticking her fingertips twice and Gray’s chest once, she finally secured the rose.
“How does it look?”
She stepped back and took him in. The tux skimmed over his broad shoulders and muscular body like it had been tailored specifically for him, which it probably had. Add that to being a good-looking man anyway, and the complete picture put any image of red-carpet movie stars she’d ever seen to shame. She couldn’t resist giving him a flirty smile. “It’ll do.”
He chuckled. “Probably the most I can hope for.”
She tried to keep a tight rein on her own hopes. And her own tongue. “I’d better go. Where are you going to be?”
“For the ceremony? Up there.” He nodded to the back of the church.
She traced his gaze up to the balcony overlooking the pews.
“Your brother also arranged for additional security at the entrances. You’ll be safe.”
She brought her focus back to him. She couldn’t help it. Just like with her thoughts, her eyes kept returning, as if pulled by a magnet. “I never doubted it. Not with you here.”
Gray looked away first. “Go ahead. I can’t wait to see you walk down the aisle.”
A shiver peppered her skin. The man, tux, the flowers, the music—it was all straight from her fantasies. Whatever disappointment she felt at him breaking eye contact first was wiped away by the thought of him there, watching her as she walked down the aisle.
Of course, in her fantasies, he wouldn’t be standing on the back balcony. He’d be at the altar.
GRAY HAD TO ADMIT, he wasn’t looking forward to the wedding, not that he’d ever confess that to Natalie or any of the other Kendalls. Not even under pain of torture.
He was happy for Ash and Rachel. But a crowded church and a set time were like neon-sign invitations to anyone who wanted to cause trouble. The only thing that made his job at all easier was the fact that a large percentage of the guests happened to be cops, and most of them happened to be armed.
He checked in with Ash and the additional security. Standing at the entrance, he greeted guests as they arrived, as if he was head usher. Three of Ash’s fellow cops took it from there, seating the guests in the chapel while the string quartet played Mozart. As the time for the wedding approached, Gray left the door to the outside security and the ushers and took his place in the balcony.
One of the ushers seated Natalie’s aunt and uncle, then the bride’s mother, and then the minister, Ash, Devin and a couple of men Gray didn’t know filed in and stood at the altar. Natalie had a third brother, but although a woman at the cable news network had promised by phone to give Thad the message he was needed at home, he had yet to show. Gray couldn’t help thinking that was a bit odd, even for a world-traveling reporter like Thad, but the Kendall family had taken it in stride.
The music soared and the women started filing down the aisle.
Gray didn’t recognize two of them. Of course, he knew Devin’s redheaded fiancée. And then there was Natalie, her straight, blond hair shining against the deep blue of her dress.
He had to admit, her power over him was disturbing. The moment she walked in the room, his attention riveted to her, her smile, the way she moved, every detail. He wanted her to turn around and look for him. He wanted to always be the man she looked for.
He gripped the rail in front of him, steadying himself. He couldn’t let himself get carried away like this. His obligation was to keep Natalie safe, not take her for his own.
He tore his
eyes from her and swept the crowd. He had to focus on the people below, their behavior. Any detail could cue him to a threat. The rest he couldn’t think about. He forced all of it into the background, the sound of the minister’s voice, the music, the vows. But despite his best efforts, he still found his eyes lingering on Natalie.
When the minister finally pronounced Ash and Rachel as husband and wife, Gray felt exhausted. He watched the wedding party file out and then descended the steps.
He moved through the receiving line with all the other guests, shaking hands and smiling. When he reached Natalie, she took him into a polite hug and it was all he could do to keep from pulling her closer. Instead, he whispered, “good job,” into the silk of her hair and moved on to shake Devin’s hand. After wishing the newlyweds well, he took up position at the base of the church steps and scanned the assemblage.
Two security guards flanked the gathering crowd, the third still inside the church. The sun had started to dip behind the cityscape, and shadows stretched across the tombstones surrounding the church.
Gray eyed the happy couple, willing them to hurry it up. He hadn’t liked the idea of a receiving line outdoors. But since the chapel was too small to accommodate one inside, he’d been overruled, and Ash had arranged for additional security instead. Now Gray just wanted this part of the tradition over and the Kendalls all safe in their cars, speeding toward the reception they’d planned for the evening. Maybe then he would let himself relax.
“Rose petals?” A little girl beamed up at Gray and pushed a small bag tied by a ribbon into his hand.
“Rose petals?” Gray echoed.
“To throw at the bride and groom. You know, instead of rice. Rice is bad for the birds.”
“Thanks.” He gave her a smile, and she scampered away to hand out more rose petals.
The receiving line broke up, and Natalie joined him at the bottom of the steps.
His smile grew. “Congratulations.”
“For what?”
“For being the most beautiful bridesmaid.”
“Gee thanks, but I’ll bet Devin wouldn’t agree.”
Secret Protector Page 11
