by Anita Meyer
“Guilty as charged,” Jeff said, smiling the smile that she knew so well.
“But how? The fire…the explosion…I saw you….” Her voice trailed off, and she grabbed his hand, afraid that he might yet disappear.
“Ah, that.” Jeff brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “Maybe you’d better sit down.” He led her to the couch, still clinging to his arm. “The explosion in the warehouse was—” he swallowed, knowing there was no easy way to say it “—staged.”
“What?” A bubble of hysteria caught in her throat. “What do you mean, ‘staged’?”
“It was all part of the plan.”
“The plan?” A feeling of dread swept down her spine.
Jeff turned to face her on the couch, taking both of her hands in his. “Arthur figured out that Davis was using me to prevent you from testifying. He knew the only way you would testify against him was if I was out of the picture.”
“So you faked your own death?”
Jeff nodded. “Arthur arranged it, but, yes.” He reached for her, but she pulled back.
She clenched her fists as the anger grew. “Tell me, Jeff. How many people were in on this little drama?”
“It wasn’t like that—”
“Mac?”
“Well, yes,” Jeff admitted. “Arthur needed him to take care of you—”
“And your grandmother, did she know?”
“We couldn’t very well let her think I was really dead.”
Caroline lost it. “Why the hell not? You let me think you were really dead.” She paused, choking back the tears, the anger that he could have been so cruel, so heartless. When she spoke again, her voice was barely audible. “Do you have any idea what you put me through these past five days? Five days, Jeff. For five days I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. All I did was cry.”
“I know, Caroline. I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you.” Jeff tried to take her into his arms, but again she backed away. “I swear, it wasn’t my idea. Arthur forced me into it. It was the only way he could get you to testify. And he wouldn’t let me out until your testimony was over.”
Caroline laughed hysterically. “So you finally got a taste of your own medicine. Tell me, how does it feel to lose control of your life? To have someone else planning and masterminding and exploiting you?”
“Caroline, listen to me. You’re upset—”
“’Upset’? This is not about being upset, Jeff. This is about being betrayed. About having my heart ripped to shreds. How many times over the last few months did you tell me to trust you? ‘I won’t let them hurt you,’“ she mimicked. “’Trust me.’“ She wrapped her arms across her chest. “Well, they didn’t hurt me, Jeff. You did.”
Jeff raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I’m really, really sorry. But don’t you see? Now that Davis is gone, we can get on with our lives. I’ll make it up to you. We can make plans for the future—”
“No!” Caroline shouted. “You and your damn plans! You don’t know when to stop. Preparing is one thing, but you’re light-years beyond that. What you do isn’t planning. It’s scheming, manipulating, conspiring. And I won’t be part of it.”
“Bright Eyes, I-”
Caroline’s laugh was harsh and laced with pain. “My eyes aren’t bright anymore, Jeff. They’re red and bloodshot and sore from all the jagged bouts of crying. But I’ll tell you this much, they’re wide open.”
“Let me explain. I thought—”
“No, Jeff, you didn’t think. You and Arthur planned. You planned what was going to happen to me without ever considering how it would make me feel.”
Jeff fisted his hands. He had envisioned this scene a hundred times, and not once had it played out like this. She was supposed to be in his arms showering him with kisses. Instead, she was on the opposite side of the room, shooting daggers from her deep brown eyes.
“I can’t live my life according to your blueprint.” Her hands moved aimlessly in front of her, as if searching for the right words. “That’s not living. Real life is exuberant and spontaneous and impetuous.” Her hands dropped to her sides. “I don’t know if I’ll ever find that. But I know it can’t be that way with you.” She turned her back to him and faced the window. “Please go.”
Jeff paused in the library doorway, his hand on the doorknob. His voice was as thick as hers. “Maybe I did plan out my whole life, Caroline. But you know what? I never planned on falling in love with you.”
He closed the door behind him. The pain of her words tore at his heart. Slowly he climbed the basement stairs. Maybe he was a bit too…methodical. Maybe he could afford to be a tad more laid-back and impetuous. He could do that—with a little practice.
But he wouldn’t give up. One thing he was sure of, he would never give up on the woman he loved.
Jeff nearly laughed out loud as he sprinted out the door and down the street. If she needed a life that was impulsive and spontaneous, that was exactly what she’d get.
And he’d plan it for her.
Right down to the last detail.
Wearing her oldest, baggiest, most comfortable sweats and a pair of worn slippers, Caroline slopped around her apartment, randomly tossing things into a box. She couldn’t live in this city any longer, couldn’t go back to working in The Coffee Café, couldn’t look at a croquembouche without remembering. So, this morning she had met with her attorney and deeded over her half of the business to Johanna, leaving her friend enough cash to hire the best pastry chef in the city. The attorney called Caroline impulsive and reckless, but that only strengthened her resolve.
With the trial over, the house sold, and probate done, she was ready to move on. She didn’t have a clue where that was, but Paris seemed like a good place to start. A good place to try to forget.
As if she could.
She had thought about Jeff nonstop since the day he’d walked out on her.
The day you threw him out, her conscience corrected.
Whatever.
But he was probably off planning his career, mapping out his life, charting his very existence.
“It’s better this way,” she said aloud. “I need surprise and excitement in my life. I can’t live, knowing every mundane step that lies ahead.”
Like your days are now? Each one a carbon copy of the one before. Each one emptier than the last.
Okay, so maybe he wasn’t Mr. Impetuous. The truth was, a planned day with Jeff was better than a spontaneous day alone.
She understood a lot of things now. Understood that sometimes people do all the wrong things for all the right reasons. But it was too late. She hadn’t seen or heard from Jeff in weeks. Not a call. Not a letter. Nothing.
Feeling lost and dejected, she dropped a tape into the cassette player. Sam Cooke’s mellow voice filled the tiny apartment, bemoaning the fact that it was Saturday night and he didn’t have “no-o-o-body.”
“Shows what you know,” Caroline muttered. “It’s only Friday.”
Then came the Righteous Brothers, lamenting the loss of their loving feelings. And by the time Paul McCartney finished singing about yesterday, Caroline was ready to crawl into what was left of her heart and never come out again.
The phone jangled and she jumped for it, grateful for any excuse to break out of her growing depression. “Hello?”
“Caroline? It’s Mac McKensie.”
“Mac.” The name alone was enough to send hope surging through her system.
“I’m sorry to bother you—”
“No bother. I was just listening to some music.” She took a deep breath. “What’s up?”
“I…uh…Arthur asked me to call you. He was afraid you’d hang up on him.”
“He’s right,” Caroline said. “I would.” Arthur had called her a couple of times in the past few weeks—presumably to apologize for his actions. She never gave him the chance.
“Yeah…well…apparently there’s some kind of glitch with this marriage thing. Papers got recorded that we
ren’t supposed to, something like that…. I don’t know the details.”
Caroline sucked in a quick breath. “Are you saying I’m really married?”
“No, of course not,” Mac answered quickly. “But they need you here to help untangle the mess. You and Jeff have to appear before a judge.”
The air whooshed out of her lungs. “I see.”
“Arthur will pick up the tab for the airfare. It’s the least he can do,” Mac muttered. “And I’ll meet you at the airport and drive you to the…courthouse. Will you come?”
You and Jeff have to appear. You and Jeff. You and Jeff.
It took less than a heartbeat for her to make up her mind. “Yes, I’ll come.”
Mac’s sigh of relief was clearly audible. “That’s great. I’ll tell Arthur. He’ll make the arrangements. He’s good at that sort of thing.”
“Yeah, I know,” Caroline said dryly.
An awkward silence stretched over the wires.
“Look, Caroline, I’m sorry about my part in that stupid plan. About lying to you—”
“It wasn’t your fault, Mac. It certainly wasn’t your idea.” Quickly she changed the subject. “How’s the puppy?”
“Fine. Getting big. I named him Clouseau—since he turned out to be such a great detective.”
Caroline laughed. “I can’t wait to see him.”
“Yeah…well, I’d better go. Thanks, Caroline. See you soon.”
Mac was waiting for her—alone—when she stepped off the plane. Bitter disappointment crept into her heart, but she tried not to show it.
“Good flight?” Mac asked as they headed up the concourse back to the terminal.
“Fine,” Caroline answered.
“Do you have any luggage?”
“Just my carryon,” Caroline said. She forced a laugh. “Old habits are hard to break. I still travel light.”
Mac managed a gruff smile. “Right. My truck’s in the lot. Not too far.”
After a few halfhearted attempts at small talk, they resigned themselves to riding in silence. Mac gripped the wheel, staring straight ahead. Caroline looked out the window, vaguely noting the passing scenery. When they entered a park, she sat up straighter.
“Isn’t this the park where—”
“Shortcut,” Mac announced. But minutes later he pulled to a stop in front of the Whiteside Chapel.
“What’s going on, Mac?”
“Don’t look at me,” he said, holding up his hands in surrender. “This wasn’t my idea, either.”
Before she could object, Jeff wrenched open the truck door. One minute she was in the cab, the next she was in his arms. His mouth zeroed in on her lips and her protests dissolved in the heat of his kiss.
When he finally released her, she gulped air into her lungs. “What’s going on?” she gasped.
Jeff grinned. “We are being reckless, my love. Impulsive, impetuous, spontaneous…We’re getting married.”
Sleepless nights and a long, tiring flight had clearly dulled her brain. She could have sworn he said they were getting married. “What?”
Jeff pointed to the chapel behind him. There on the steps stood his grandmother…and Johanna…and Arthur, all beaming from ear to ear.
Caroline turned her disbelieving eyes to Jeff. “You planned this? A wedding?”
Jeff grinned. “Flowers, organ music, a real minister, reception, wedding cake, dance band—the whole shebang.”
“Without mentioning it to me?”
“Right again.”
The shock wore off and anger bubbled like hot lava ready to explode. “You idiot! You moron! You…bozo!” Caroline clenched her fists, resisting the urge to plant one of them in his stomach. “You’ve done it again. This is exactly what happened last time—exactly what I told you I couldn’t…wouldn’t tolerate.”
“No, Caroline. This is not like last time. It will never again be like last time. I swear it.” He grabbed her fists and pressed them to his lips, kissing first one, then the other. “Hear me out, and then if you still want to leave, I promise I’ll let you go and never bother you again.”
Caroline gritted her teeth and glanced at her watch. “You’ve got exactly thirty seconds.”
Jeff flashed her a wicked smile and lowered his voice. “Do you remember our last countdown?”
“Twenty-five seconds.”
“Okay, okay. Caroline, I’m a planner. I was born that way. I can’t change it even if I wanted to. It’s part of who I am, part of my charm.”
Caroline frowned, but said nothing.
“And you’re who you are,” Jeff explained. “Irreverent, impetuous, impertinent, exasperating—”
Nineteen, eighteen—”
“We’re a team, Bright Eyes. We complement each other perfectly. And if you’ll let me—;”
He stopped. His voice lost the light, teasing tone, and his eyes reflected the depth of his passion.
In the middle of the park, in front of the little chapel, Jefferson McKensie knelt before the woman he loved. “Marry me, Caroline. And I promise to plan a lifetime of surprises for you—all of them wonderful.”
Caroline looked at the errant tuxedoed knight kneeling at her feet. His incessant plans would probably drive her crazy. But on the other hand, she would have something new and different to look forward to every day of her life.
And what could be better than that?
“I suppose you’ve also planned a honeymoon,” Caroline said.
Jeff stood and calmly brushed the knees of his trousers. “Of course. And believe me, it’s a humdinger. One of my more spectacular plans, if I do say so myself.”
“Really?” She looped her arm through his as they headed up the stone walkway. “Exactly where are we going?”
Jeff looked aghast. “I can’t tell you that.” He winked. “It would spoil the surprise.”
Epilogue
Jeff stood at the front of the chapel and looked out over the sea of faces. The tiny church was filled with the fragrance of autumn flowers and the soft, low strains of organ music. Sunshine poured in through the stained-glass window above the altar, spilling pools of emerald, ruby and sapphire light across the altar steps. Jeff smiled at Mac, and reluctantly his brother acknowledged it. Clearly, Mac had not quite forgiven Jeff for making him lie to Caroline.
He watched his grandmother walk down the carpeted aisle and take her place in the wooden pew decorated with a white satin bow. After a moment, Johanna, Caroline’s maid of honor, began to glide down the aisle.
The music swelled and the familiar strains of the wedding march rose to the vaulted ceiling. In one fluid motion, the congregation stood and turned in unison to face the vestibule.
Jeff’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Arthur offer his arm to a vision in white lace. Her bearing was regal. She walked with the grace and elegance of a princess, seeming to float down the aisle. She carried a bouquet of white roses and yellow freesia and wore a crown woven of the same flowers. A gossamer veil, attached to the crown, covered her face.
Jeff watched, spellbound, as the distance closed between them. She lifted the skirts of her dress and ascended the stairs to stand next to him.
He offered her his hand and she took it, accepting his protection and allegiance…and love. And then she raised her eyes—large and dark, to meet his.
And smiled.
* * * * *
eISBN 978-14592-7972-8
THE BRIDE AND THE BODYGUARD
Copyright © 1996 by Anita Meyer
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office. Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street. New York, NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the a
uthor and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are nor even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
® and TM are trademarks of Harlequin Books S.A., used under license. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office. the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.
Printed In U.S.A
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Dear reader
Books by Anita Meyer
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Copyright
