Undercover Bodyguard

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Maureen’s son?”

  “He was in town the morning she died. Flew in the night before. Supposedly to surprise her on her birthday.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s a murderer. Besides, the guy I saw didn’t look like Maureen’s son.”

  “The sheriff thinks it’s possible he hired someone to murder Maureen.”

  “What? No way. They weren’t close, but Maureen loved her son.” Shock poured ice water into Shelby’s veins, and she turned, found herself face to chest with Ryder.

  She looked up into his dark chocolate eyes, got caught in the heat of his gaze. Her heart jumped, her pulse leaped, her palms itched to touch his razor-stubble-covered jaw.

  She clenched her fist, stepped back, bumping into the counter.

  “Careful,” he said, his hands cupping her waist and staying there. “Maureen was worth a lot of money, Shelby, and money can bring out the worst in people. Even family. Sometimes, especially family. I’m planning to go to his hotel and have a talk with Hunter. I thought you’d like to come along.”

  She did not want to spend another minute with Ryder and his magical hands.

  “I have to finish these flowers. They still need to be painted.”

  “I can think of better uses of your time.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and something unfurled in Shelby’s belly, begged her to lean just a little closer, stretch up on her toes, do something much, much more interesting than painting flowers.

  “Ryder—”

  “What are you afraid of, Shelby Ann? Me?” he asked, his finger trailing up her arm, resting in the hollow of her throat, measuring her fear in the frantic racing of her pulse.

  Only it wasn’t just fear that had her pulse racing.

  It was Ryder and everything he represented.

  All the things she’d prayed for so long for and had finally, finally given up on.

  All the things her family had scoffed at, but that Shelby had wanted so desperately to find.

  Love.

  Forever.

  Happiness in the arms of someone who loved her just the way she was.

  She blinked back hot tears, slipping from Ryder’s embrace.

  “I think I would like to go see Hunter, after all,” she said and then did the only thing she could think of that wouldn’t lead to heartache.

  She turned and ran from the kitchen.

  ELEVEN

  Ryder followed Shelby, slamming his hand on the door before she could open it.

  “You’re running away,” he said, his body still humming with a need he wouldn’t give in to, his hands itching to smooth the frown line from between her brows, trace the line of her jaw, cup the silky, smooth skin of her neck.

  “And?”

  “You don’t need to. I’m not going to take something you don’t want to give,” he responded, forcing his voice to stay light, his breathing to remain even.

  “That’s the problem, Ryder. I want to give it.” She brushed a lock of dark hair from her cheek, her hand shaking, her eyes darkly shadowed.

  “Then what are you afraid of?”

  “Being disappointed again. I have a track record, Ryder. Two strikes, and I’m out of the relationship game. Come on. I still have work to do tonight, and it’s not getting done while we’re standing here talking.” She put her hand on the door handle, and he covered it with his, stopping her before she could walk outside.

  “Maybe that’s the problem, Shelby Ann.”

  “What?”

  “You’ve been with people who make relationships into games. They’re not.”

  “Right. Good point. Now, I really want to get out of here, because—”

  “Chicken.” He cut her off.

  “So what if I am? We have bigger things to worry about. Like finding out if Hunter Lewis killed his mother and is trying to kill me.”

  “You weren’t in such a hurry to do that five minutes ago.”

  “We’ve already established that I’m a chicken, Ryder. I’m also hungry, tired and just want to forget everything for a while. Make the cake for the wedding tomorrow night and pretend that things are just like they’ve always been, but I can’t, so I’m coming to the hotel with you. Now, can we please go?” Her voice shook, and she looked as if she was on the verge of tears. He nodded, tugging her away from the door.

  “Let me go first.”

  “So you can get shot instead of me?”

  “If it comes to that, yes.”

  “No.”

  “It’s my job to keep you safe, Shelby Ann.”

  “It’s my job to keep me safe,” she responded, standing as tall as her five-four frame would allow.

  “Take it up with Dottie. She’s the one who hired me and made me promise to guard you with my life.”

  “What?”

  “Dottie hired me to be your bodyguard.” For the price of two doughnuts a day for life, but Shelby didn’t need to know that.

  “I need to have a talk with that woman,” Shelby muttered, her cheeks flushed pink. “But before I do, I’m unhiring you.”

  “Sorry. Once I accept a client, that client is the only one who can terminate my services. Stay here. I need to make sure the area is clear.”

  He opened the door, motioning for Shelby to stay back as he surveyed the area. Dusk had fallen, casting long shadows across the pavement, but there was no sign of danger. Nothing to indicate they were being watched.

  He signaled for Shelby to follow, shielding her with his body as she locked the door, her shoulders stiff.

  “There’s no need to be a sore loser.”

  “I’m too terrified to be a sore anything.”

  “There’s no need to be scared. I’ll protect you with my life.”

  “That’s why I’m scared,” she mumbled as he helped her into the Hummer.

  “I can take care of both of us, okay? Everything is going to be fine.” He skimmed a knuckle down her jaw, then forced himself to step away. She tempted him in a way he hadn’t been tempted in a long time, but he couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  He hopped into the Hummer and started the engine, glancing her way when Shelby’s stomach growled. “Hungry?”

  “Seeing as how my stomach has already made the announcement, I guess it wouldn’t do any good to deny it,” she responded with a half smile that showcased her dimple and the pouty fullness of her lips.

  “We can stop for burgers on our way to the hotel.”

  “A salad will be fine,” she said as he pulled into a fast-food drive-through.

  “You haven’t eaten all day. You need more than salad.” He ordered two cheeseburgers, a large French fries and a milkshake, handing Shelby the bag as he pulled away from the window.

  Much as he would have liked to bring her for a real meal of decent food, they didn’t have time. Hunter was expecting them, and Ryder had a feeling that he wouldn’t wait around if they weren’t on time.

  “Go ahead and eat what you want. I’ll take what’s left.”

  “You know what, Ryder? You make it really hard not to like you.” She sighed, pulling out a fry and biting into it.

  “Is there a reason why you don’t want to like me?”

  “A reason? There are a million reasons, but it’s already too late. I like you, and there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot I can do about it.” She handed him a burger half-unwrapped for easy eating. Typical Shelby, taking care of someone else before she took care of herself.

  It was time for someone to take care of her, and Ryder figured that someone might as well be him.

  He bit into the burger, gestured to the bag. “One fry isn’t enough. Keep eating. You need the calories.”

  “Keep sweet-tal
king me, Ryder. I like it.” She pulled the second burger from the bag. “Do you think Hunter will give us any information that will help us figure out who Maureen’s murderer is?”

  “I don’t think he’ll say much. The only reason he agreed to meet with me was because I was there the morning of the explosion. He wants to pick my brain as much as I want to pick his. Having you there will be a bonus for him.”

  “I don’t think he hired someone to kill his mother. If he did, why would he show up in Spokane the night before she was murdered?” Shelby said, passing Ryder a fry.

  “Good question. One I’m sure the sheriff’s department has an answer for.”

  “The sheriff didn’t say?”

  “He’s not saying much about possible suspects or motives, but he did mention the Good Samaritan murders again. I’m planning to take a trip out to the state prison tomorrow to visit Catherine Miller. See what she has to say.”

  “Good idea. I know Maureen visited her several times last month. She was really excited about the story. Angel of Darkness: Murders at Good Samaritan. That’s what she planned to call the book. She thought it was going to be her bestseller yet,” Shelby said, tossing her half-eaten burger into the empty bag.

  “Finish that up. You need the—”

  “Calories? So you said, but I’m not hungry anymore.” She sighed.

  “Starving yourself won’t bring Maureen back, and it won’t solve her murder.”

  “I’m not starving myself. I’m just too sick to eat.”

  “Sick?” He pulled into Davenport Hotel parking garage, taking three spaces near the hotel lobby entrance, the Hummer angled so Shelby could exit close to the door.

  “Not sick sick. Just…sorry that Maureen didn’t get a chance to finish the book.”

  “That’s the thing about life, Shelby Ann. We never know how long we’ve got, so we have to live it the best way we can every day,” he said gently, brushing a stray curl from her cheek, his fingers lingering on her smooth skin.

  She was definitely a temptation, but he had a job to do, a man to interview, and he couldn’t let himself be distracted by Shelby.

  “I’m coming around to your side. Don’t get out of the Hummer until I give you the all clear.” He got out before she could argue, rounding the Hummer quickly as he scanned the parking area. A few patrons walked between the cars, talking quietly, completely caught up in their worlds and their lives, completely unaware that a murderer could be nearby.

  Ryder was acutely aware of the fact.

  Acutely aware of every person, every corner, every dark shadow. Even before Dottie had hired him, he’d been determined to protect Shelby. Now doing so was his job, his mission, and he didn’t take that lightly.

  But there was something else building between them, and it couldn’t be denied any more than the danger that stalked Shelby could be.

  The time to explore it would come. Eventually.

  For now, he had to keep doing what he’d been doing, focusing his energy on keeping Shelby safe.

  State-of-the-art security system in place.

  A team of operatives ready to provide 24/7 protection.

  All the tools Ryder had available thrown into the mix.

  He hoped it would be enough.

  Prayed it would be.

  He opened the Hummer door, ushering Shelby into the Davenport.

  Shelby tried to keep pace with Ryder’s long-legged stride, but she nearly tripped as they stepped across the threshold and into the Davenport’s posh lobby. He didn’t miss a step, his arm sliding around her waist, supporting her weight as he continued to walk.

  She tried to move away, but he didn’t release his hold, and struggling would only make a scene.

  Not that they hadn’t already done that.

  Walking around with Ryder was like walking around wearing a giant placard that read Stare at Me.

  Or maybe Stare at the Guy I’m With.

  When Ryder was around, people noticed.

  Not that Shelby cared much about that.

  She’d spent her childhood walking in the shadow of her mother and sister. Both breathtakingly beautiful, charming and more self-absorbed than either was likely to admit.

  Shelby loved them anyway.

  She wouldn’t love a guy like them, though.

  She preferred men like Andrew. Good-looking in an understated way. More likely to blend in than to stand out. Unobtrusive but still confident.

  Sneaky.

  Two-timing.

  Untrustworthy.

  Being understated and unobtrusive hadn’t kept Andrew from being those things. Nor had it kept him from being self-absorbed, selfish and self-serving. Shelby was happy to be rid of him. She only wished she’d kept the ostentatious diamond ring he’d given her when he’d proposed as a reminder of just how foolish she’d been. The ring hadn’t been her style at all, but he’d been so proud of the large, gaudy diamond, insisting that it suited her.

  Her first hint that his solicitous concern and eagerness to listen was nothing more than a well-staged act in a play he was creating.

  Shelby would have preferred something less traditional.

  Maybe a sapphire or ruby ring.

  If Andrew had been listening to anything she’d said in the months leading up to their engagement, he would have known that. She’d accepted the ring anyway. Worn it for five months, feeling it like a lead weight on her finger.

  Still, she’d worn it.

  Until Andrew hadn’t shown up for a friend’s wedding, and Shelby had gone looking for him.

  She’d wanted the dream so badly that she’d been willing to ignore the subtle signs that Andrew wasn’t the man she’d thought, but she hadn’t been able to ignore seeing him exchanging a long, passionate kiss with the Realtor who was listing his apartment.

  She frowned as Ryder hurried her to the elevator, a gaggle of women whispering and pointing as they passed.

  “Could they be any more obvious?” she said under her breath, and Ryder smiled.

  “Jealous?”

  “Hardly.” She stepped onto the elevator, Ryder’s hand firm against the small of her back. Making good choices in men wasn’t high on the list of things she did well. As a matter of fact, she was pretty sure it was right there at the bottom. So, if she wanted to trust Ryder, if she wanted to lean on him, it was probably a mistake, and she most definitely should not give in to the urge.

  Which was okay, because she was done with men.

  D.O.N.E.

  Done.

  “You look upset. Are you sure you’re up to this?” Ryder asked as the elevator doors opened onto the third floor.

  “Yes. I’m just not sure Hunter is going to be happy to see us. Did you call ahead?”

  “I arranged everything, and we’re right on time for the meeting I set up with him. But that’s not really why you’re upset, is it?” He stopped walking, tugging at her apron strings to pull her back.

  “Will you please stop tugging at my apron every time you want to stop me?” she asked.

  “You’re awfully touchy all of the sudden, Shelby Ann.”

  “Because I don’t want to play games that I’m bound to lose.”

  He sobered at that, releasing his hold, but moving toward her, graceful and muscular as a jungle cat.

  She shivered, but didn’t back up.

  Give a man an inch, and he’d take a million miles.

  Another Beulah truism, but Shelby wasn’t afraid of Ryder taking more than she gave. She was scared to death of handing it to him. Every inch, every mile of her foolish, fickle emotions, dreams, hopes.

  “I already told you that relationships aren’t games,” he said quietly. Shelby nodded, because she wa
s afraid of what she might say if she opened her mouth.

  “Shelby Simons? Is that you?” The high-pitched, almost childlike voice could only belong to one person.

  The one person Shelby most did not want to see.

  She turned anyway, nearly flinching as she met Stephanie Parsons’s perfectly made-up eyes and saw Andrew standing a few steps behind her.

  Okay. So, he was the person Shelby most didn’t want to see, but Stephanie was a close second.

  “Hey, how are you, Stephanie? Andrew?” She smiled, but ice flowed into her heart. She might not want Andrew, might not care about him, but that didn’t mean she wanted to see him at a hotel with his new girlfriend.

  “How are we? We’re wonderful, aren’t we, dear?” Stephanie patted Andrew’s arm, a huge diamond flashing on her left ring finger.

  Oh, no.

  No, no, no!

  Andrew had not proposed and given her the exact ring he’d given Shelby!

  Of course the scoundrel had.

  “Better than wonderful. We’re getting married next spring. We’re here checking out the ballroom and reception area at the hotel. It’s gorgeous. Just gorgeous,” Stephanie continued, and Shelby wanted to gag.

  “I’m sure it will be the perfect venue. If you two will excuse me, we have an appo—”

  “Don’t rush off just yet, Shel. We were planning to stop by your bakery earlier today to ask you a question, but didn’t have the time.” Andrew grabbed her hand, his palm soft and clammy and slightly disgusting.

  She frowned, stepping back and bumping into the solid wall of Ryder’s chest. Nothing soft or clammy or disgusting about him.

  “What question?” It had better not be Will you make the cake for our wedding? Because if it was, Shelby couldn’t be held responsible for her actions.

  “We were hoping you’d make the cake for our wedding.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Why would I be? We’re exes, but we’re also friends, and you’re the best baker in town. Stephanie and I want the best for our big day.”

  “We aren’t friends, Andrew.”

  “Of course we are.”