very charming wedding 03 - bodyguard and the bride

by Laurie LeClair

  His sudden switch to an all-business approach left her off-kilter. She swiped a hand across her forehead and then pushed back a sweep of hair. “Honestly, no. They’re good people. Not deranged. I brushed it off.”

  “But you did think about it.” It wasn’t a question, more like a confirmation.

  “For a blib, maybe. No, I don’t think so. The emails I saw were a little odd. Intense even. I get requests to go to dances and proms. I thought this was another one, only delivered this time. Not panicky though…”

  “Until now, right? Someone knew your involvement in the wedding and strongly suggested you take them or you’d be sorry.”

  “I didn’t get those, remember? You showed me.” She gulped, thinking of the scanned image of the last letters Brock had shown her yesterday. Who would know?

  “Hey, you’re shaking,” he said with a softness in his voice that made her think he cared.

  His gentle hands held her shoulders. “My folks? Why deliver the letters to their door? I’m scared for them.”

  He drew her to him, tucking her head on his shoulder.

  Ash sighed, feeling his heat and strength as he absorbed her shakes. “They trust everyone. People they shouldn’t.”

  “Like the tabloids?”

  She tensed. Then she gave in, realizing he’d done his homework. “They’re vulnerable.” They talk. A lot. About her. To the wrong people. Parents, gotta love ’em!

  “Sshh! I moved them. Twice. They’re safe.”

  Leaning back slightly, she stared up into his dark, fathomless eyes. “You did that? For me?” She wished she could read him, know what he was thinking right now.

  “Of course. One of the rules.”

  “Rules?” She landed a jab to his solid ribs and he never flinched. “Barrett Rockdale, you are something. How many of those do you have anyway?”

  “Enough.”

  “You’re making that up.” He didn’t let go, just held her loosely in his protective embrace.

  “Because I can.” He dropped a light kiss on her forehead.

  She stilled.

  He stiffened.

  With wide eyes and a slack jaw, she stared at him. There, in his gaze, shock reverberated. He’d responded. To her. And it was spontaneous. Without thought. Just feeling. “You sure know how to surprise a girl,” she whispered around the lump in her throat.

  Suddenly, his eyes changed to that cool, controlled look again. He withdrew, disengaging from her, and then set her aside. “It was a mistake.”

  Wow! Can you say drop-kicked back to reality? Damn, that stings right in the middle of everywhere.

  She knew being around super sexy Brock wasn’t a good idea from the start. It could only go downhill from here.

  Chapter 5

  Brock stood on the fringes of the meeting with Charlie, the owner of King’s, highly aware of Ashley’s reaction to his rejection. Hurt fluttered over her features and a shaft of pain arrowed through her sky-blue eyes, making them slightly darker.

  Why did you go there?

  No answer came, except a total breakdown in his façade. The overwhelming love and concern she had for her parents nearly strangled him.

  Her distress tugged at a tender spot inside him, the empty, wounded place where he’d lost both his mom and dad as a young man. One he would have sworn he didn’t possess or at least recognize as still having a breath of life in it. He’d hidden his personal losses so well through the years, Brock thought he’d erased them. The hell you did, Rockdale! You’re here for Simon, aren’t you? And look at what happened with her.

  Chasing away her worry with an unplanned kiss, even on her forehead, was so far removed from who he was it stunned him even now, thirty minutes later.

  Your control is slipping!

  “You’re serious, Charlie?” Ashley’s voice rose, drawing his full attention. “Me? You want me to model for King’s?”

  The young, expectant woman chuckled. “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “I just never thought…” She trailed off.

  “You can still model for others. But we’re asking exclusive for the wedding dresses. We have top designers signed on and we have our in-house designers hard at work creating their own fabulous gowns. My step-sister, Francie, is preparing the latest top-secret line for you to take a look at in a week or so.”

  From his vantage point, standing off to the side, he watched her profile, pale skin and trembling chin. Something clenched in his chest.

  “I’m speechless.” She blinked and shifted her gaze away, only to land on him.

  Those gorgeous sky-blue eyes, now watery, drilled into him, making him ache. He longed to help her, but could only nod his encouragement. Take it if you want it!

  Ash blew out a breath. As she faced Charlie fully, she gripped the arms of the chair. “It’s—a dream come true,” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she sat up straighter. “I have to be completely honest with you, Charlie.”

  “By all means,” she said, frowning slightly.

  “Brock, my bodyguard, is here because of a recent threat. Well, several, by one person. Right?” She turned to him to ask the last.

  “At this time, it appears to be the work of a sole suspect.” That was his, along with a half dozen of his best people’s, consensus. The letters were identical in paper, ink, and delivery. Someone fixated and who frequented the area, they’d concluded.

  Facing the owner again, Ash said, “Until this is solved, I cannot put anyone else in danger. Especially you, your family, and anyone at King’s. So, I will have to turn down your offer.”

  With every word she spoke, he knew it killed her to say no; her fingers turned white clutching the arm of the chair.

  Charlie, having shown him the upmost courteousness, turned to stare directly at him. “You’re the best in the business, Mr. Rockdale. In fact, King’s is forming their own security team—physical as well as cyber—rather than hire out and risk vulnerability. Max Whitfield is heading it up. We could use your assistance in setting it up and launching it, if you have the manpower to spare.”

  “I think we can work something out.” Brock had people permanently assigned in Dallas he could get started on the project immediately. But what did that have to do with Ash?

  The woman smiled. “The answer to your unspoken question, Brock—now that we get to work together, I get to call you Brock—we can put an extra detail on Ashley while she’s working for us. It’s not unlike what we’ve done in the past, especially with our overzealous gossip columnists in town.”

  “A second barrier?” he asked, suddenly falling into step with her. “I like the way you think.”

  “Ah…hello, did you forget I’m here?” Ash chuckled, glancing from Charlie and then to him. “It wouldn’t work, would it?” Hope shone in her eyes. “Could it, Brock?”

  The way she said his name, whisper soft, reached in and grabbed his heart, squeezing until he ached. “Sure, Ash. If it’s what you want, we can make it happen.”

  Protect her. Not humor her.

  What the hell are you promising her, Rockdale?

  ***

  Thankfully, he had swept the changing rooms and, once satisfied there was nothing there to harm her, had left. Somehow she knew he was only feet away, lurking.

  Ashley shimmied in and out of one wedding dress after another, discarding several from short and modern to ones with long trains and frills.

  Rico dragged in more, the plastic coverings crinkling. “Dozens, here we come!”

  “Awful!” Her friend Heather looked down at her high-necked long gown. Petite and swallowed up by the bulky fabric, she looked like something out of a horror movie. “Just need the blood to go with it.”

  “Hey, that’s what I was just thinking,” Ash said.

  “Great minds think alike,” they said in unison and then high-fived.

  “Where’s Lacey? She is not ditching us, is she?” The charity event for military couples was something they’d been asked, and decided at o
nce, to join in. Wanting to help and Rico’s persuasive ways convinced them.

  “Don’t know. Not answering my texts. By the way, you haven’t either. What’s up?”

  Swallowing hard, Ash didn’t want to confess to her friends right now. No use in getting them upset. “Reading contracts. You know those things make my eyes glaze over and my head swim.” True!

  “Well, don’t forget to get Gordo to check them out. I know, your agent is tough and smart, but, Sheila’s not a lawyer.”

  “In this case, a judge. You think Lacey’s dad has time for my problems?” Oops! She slipped. Yeah, over the last few hours, she’d thought about clueing Judge Daniels in to the letters, wondering if she could get a restraining order. But against who?

  “He’s a teddy bear. He’d do anything for Lacey—and us, for that matter. Kinda neat to have someone like that on your side, right?”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, considering Brock’s involvement. Someone she didn’t even know wanted to protect her. Why? It still didn’t make sense.

  “Oh, girls!” Rico returned from hanging the dresses and pressed his hands to his cheeks. “Horrendous! These were not meant for you! Like never!”

  Ashley laughed at the open disgust on his face. “And here I thought you’d lost your good taste, my friend.”

  “As if!” He rolled his eyes. Pointing to the next set of dresses, he said, “Those. Try. I’ll go round up that last friend of yours. And stop and rub Brock’s chest along the way as he stands guard. I just know he loves it when I do that—don’t you think so, Ash?”

  Before she could answer, he disappeared.

  “Brock? Who?” Heather asked, shoving back her glasses and peering at her.

  Her ears began to ring, that high-pitched sound. “Someone in the biz.” She hadn’t quite fibbed. Brock did hang out with celebs. In the biz was a big stretch, though.

  “Friend?”

  “Nope.” Not ever likely, Ash realized.

  She sucked in a sharp breath and it hurt to the bottom of her lungs. He was doing a job. Just a job. He’d made it perfectly clear he had no other interest in her.

  Why did that gentle kiss on her forehead make her think otherwise?

  Chapter 6

  Brock was used to her being around. That was not a good sign.

  Three days in to the assignment and he was tagging along on photo shoots, practice runs for the charity event, and always watching her and out for her. Every time, he’d see a new, different side to her. He grew to admire her self-deprecating humor, playful nature, and genuine sweet person who just happened to juggle her demanding career with dignity and ease while gaining a great deal of respect.

  No wonder she was at the top of her game!

  In the meantime, he was no closer to discovering the mystery letter writer. There were no more letters. No contact. “Nothing.”

  “You think they knew you were on their trail and disappeared?” Ash asked him as she snatched up her cell phone. When he frowned at it and her possessive hold, she said, “Rico’s going to text. He found an even more divine dress for me. En route or something. I can ask him to bring one for you, if you want.”

  “Funny, Ash, real funny.” Her arm brushed his. And his breath stayed trapped for a moment too long until he consciously released it.

  The modest hotel room seemed to shrink more every night. Fresh from her shower, she wore an oversized pink graphic T-shirt with a ribbon on it. Her hair smelled like some exotic flowers. Shampoo or body wash?

  That was one thing he deemed off-limits—well, besides her. He did not search through her things here. His people had taken care of it the first day. No clues had turned up. No reason to pry in her personal items again.

  Except the phone contact list, messages, pictures, and anything else of value she’d given permission for them to have. There were transcripts for some emails he still had to read through with a fine-tooth comb. The nagging sensation that he was nothing more than a peeping Tom clutched him behind his ribcage, like two fists grabbing the bars of a cell and rattling them. Or maybe it was Ash who rattled him.

  “Brock, you still with me? Or have you died of boredom yet?” She snapped her fingers in front of him.

  “Present and accounted for.” He grinned, stuffing the odd musings deep down. She could pull him back from the edge. Well, she could push him to the edge, too, for that matter. “Just inputting data.”

  She craned her neck to glance at the laptop screen. “More gobbledy-goop to me.”

  Her wet hair soaked through his denim shirt, but he didn’t say a word. “Filling in the spaces, literally.”

  “My appointment book?” She leaned closer, practically in his lap. “Every date and time is listed here.”

  “Part of the research. Cross-checking where you were and when with the arrival of the letters at your parents’ home. Why them? Not you?”

  She gulped hard and pulled back, snuggling a tad closer to him. “Someone knows I’m not a computer person.” Her voice, tiny and reed-thin, cracked.

  “You’re smart.” Give her enough time and she’d figure out more. Maybe too much. About him. “Your folks were more accessible than you. Why not your apartment in town? Why not email you directly and you get it on your smartphone? They realize we can trace technology.”

  “Either they know me really well or not at all. Dad and Mother are a way to get to me.”

  “They’re proud of you, so they boast.”

  “More like brag.”

  “It fed this person enough information to know your routine.” He pointed to the screen. “Every time something was sent, you were out of the country.”

  “Helpless to do something about it.”

  “Or too distracted to address it.”

  “Does that mean they weren’t trying to scare me, but they were my folks?” She gripped his arm now.

  “Could be.” He had to be honest. “Your weakness.”

  “But the one about the wedding. Nothing happened. So maybe they’re all bravado and no action.”

  Her sky-blue eyes pled with him. “I can’t lie to you, Ash,” he said softly, reaching out and brushing back a tendril of damp hair. He trailed his thumb over her cheek. So soft. Much better than touching a cold picture for years. “That wedding. Meagan’s and Rodney’s. You left early with me. Possibly preventing it. However, we found nothing there. My people viewed the tapes, backward and forward. No one there who shouldn’t have been—”

  “Except you and Felix,” she said with a grin.

  “Besides us. Everyone else checked out, down to the caterer.”

  “That makes it official, right? No danger. You go your way. I go mine.”

  “What about the next wedding…” He let out a gusty breath. It was time to reveal a suspicion. “It could be the charity event.”

  “That’s not real. It’s like an extravaganza, showcasing the dresses to the military couples. It’s for their benefit.”

  “Who knows? Felix is heading up the vetting of the attendees and anyone else involved. So far, so good.” He shrugged, dropping his hand from absently touching her silky skin. Brock directed his attention back to the screen before he did something stupid. Again.

  “Maybe…we should stage something beforehand.”

  “As in?” He tapped a few keys, adding a note to his spreadsheet.

  “Plant the news of a fake trip.”

  His hands stilled. “Draw them out?” Too iffy?

  “We wait at my parents’ house for the next letter.”

  God, that was good. “We? No, I don’t think so.”

  “They’ve been silent ever since I’ve been back in town.”

  “That part is sound. Not the you hiding in wait part.”

  “I hate sitting here idle.” She rose and stalked out of the room.

  He never took her for a pouter, but you never knew about someone until you practically lived on top of them. On top? You went there, Rockdale. He groaned.

  Trying to work when only sile
nce came from her room disturbed him more than any rant could have. Minutes stretched to an hour. Maybe she’d gone to bed already.

  Brock sighed, hit the Save button, and then powered off. This killing time was getting to him, too. He slipped the slim computer in its holder and grabbed up his phone. A few minutes on the balcony and he’d call Felix for the nightly personal update.

  Fresh air rushed over him the minute he opened the slider door. He sucked it in, welcoming anything to clear his overworked brain and underworked body. That’s what he needed. “A brutal workout session.” Caged energy sought an outlet. The phone buzzed before he could punch in the number.

  “Yo, Felix. Got anything?”

  “Brock, shoot, you picked up quick, man! Just a tidbit. Your bride—”

  Surprise raced through him. “My what?”

  “Oh, sorry. I mean, Miss Moore. Is that better?”

  “Definitely. Go on.”

  “Well, she fired up the credit card.”

  “When? Now? And what has her shopping have to do with me?”

  “Yes, now. It has everything to do with you. She booked a flight to Mexico. Leaves,” he hesitated, probably to look at his watch, “at approximately twenty-three hundred hours. That gives you not much time to stop her.”

  “What the hell?” Brock, still on the line, rushed back into the place and headed directly for Ash’s room. Some of her clothes and her tote bag were gone and so was she. He cursed loud and long.

  “I’d say the bird has flown the coop. I’ll get a track on her cell. Headed your way.” He hung up.

  The emptiness throbbed. He jerked around and raced for the door. Pout? Hell, she’d retreated to plot against him. She’d suckered him, all the way to complacency.

  “Never trust a silent woman!”

  Gut clench. He could not let anything happen to her.

  Chapter 7

  “Rico, thank God you came!” Ash jumped in the back of the taxi van beside her friend. Her bag, big and bulky, mashed against her side. His voluminous plastic-encased wedding dress poked her head. “Ouch!”