by LJ Evans
“Just like The Bodyguard.” She tsked as she started down the stairs with a smile. Dani, who was still behind me, put her forehead against my back, and I could feel her laughter all the way through my muscles until it settled on my bones. I couldn’t help the grin that appeared.
Maribelle looked up at us when she reached the bottom.
“Don’t mind me. I’m just going to do some baking. Please feel free to proceed with whatever it was you intended to do.”
“We’re going to use the gym. I’m teaching her self-defense,” I said, trying to control the laughter threatening to escape my chest.
“Hmm. Is that what they call it these days?” Maribelle said as she made her way toward the kitchen.
I couldn’t hold it back. The laughter came out in a loud roar, echoing around the high ceilings, dancing along the mosaic of light streaming in the stained-glass windows. It felt odd, not because I hadn’t laughed in a long time, but because the laughter hadn’t been this light, this whole, this free in decades. Maybe since the last time I’d run up these same steps, chasing another dark-haired woman with love swinging between us.
I was going to teach Dani self-defense, but I wasn’t sure I knew the moves to protect myself from falling. From falling in love, or from falling with heartache. I didn’t know how to keep us together without pulling us apart. I wasn’t sure Dani did either.
Dani
BOUND TO YOU
“I found a man I can trust.
And boy, I believe in us.
I am terrified to love for the first time.”
Performed by Christina Aguilera
Written by Aguilera / Dixon / Furler
My body was delightfully sore from a night spent in Nash’s bed and a morning spent in his shower. I was tender in places no one had ever made me tender before. His careful, purposeful touch had been worth surrendering to even when I could see the danger in doing so. The real danger to my heart and soul had whipped back into my brain with the names of women appearing on his lips. Especially Tristan’s, because even though they weren’t twined together romantically, their lives were still twisted together, and I didn’t know what room that left for me.
I did know it was too late for me to save myself from being hurt. He’d taken a piece of me just like he’d taken my clothes. With a sweet demand. And unlike the clothes that I would get back, the fragment of me he held was no longer mine; it was his instead.
I’d been working at Carson’s desk in the library for a couple hours when my phone rang. I picked up Lee’s call without hesitation. “Good morning.”
“Hello,” he returned. “How are things in Georgia?”
Perfect, my body sang out, but my entire heart clenched tight at that thought. I was an emotional wreck, even though my body was singing a happy tune. “Better than in Vermont, I’m sure. Is he driving you insane yet?”
“Who knew he was such a city boy at heart,” he laughed. “I offered to take him fishing, and he almost lost his lunch.”
I laughed because the thought of Brady in a small fishing dingy with a hat covered in lures was the most comical thing I’d thought about in days.
“The FBI called,” Lee said, and my laughter died away.
“They did?”
“Because the case has crossed state lines, and because they have experience with celebrity stalkers like this, they’re now running point. They’d like to talk to the entire team tomorrow. Do you think you’d be able to join the video call?”
“Absolutely, just tell me when.”
“They’ll want to talk to Nash as well. He’s the one who’s been running point lately.”
“Don’t let Tanner hear you say that,” I said dryly, and Lee chortled.
We made arrangements for the meeting, and then I sat back with nothing left to do that could be done before Nash made his appearance. The three-hour demand had been both irritating and tantalizing in a way I’d never thought I’d be enticed before. I’d never been one to go for the alpha male, pounding his chest and dragging his woman around by the hair.
The best way to fight an enemy was to know your enemy. I pulled up the book I’d downloaded on snipers. Opening the book reminded me of the one Nash had been reading for two nights now while I’d played chess with his uncle. I went over to the loveseat and picked up the worn book. It was an anthology of Sir Conan Doyle’s Sherlock Holmes.
I didn’t know what I’d expected―something more action and adventure than thoughtful deduction, yet Nash was really both. Silent and deadly combined with swift precision. The intelligence I’d suspected he had as a sniper had been proven by the meaning of the art on his chest that we’d discussed this morning. Philosophy, poetry, and literature.
I’d put on my latest Selena Gomez mix and was reading when Nash scared the daylights out of me. I taunted him and ran, knowing he would give chase just as I knew he would catch me. The kiss I received was worth every moment of it.
Maribelle’s laughter made me blush in a way I hadn’t since high school.
The blush disappeared into thoughtfulness as Nash held my hand and led me out of the house. I was unaccustomed to the men I’d allowed into my life showing any kind of public display of affection. In D.C., you never showed it unless you were in front of a camera, proving you were a dedicated partner supporting your running mate.
Even then, you didn’t show love.
Nash led me up a staircase at the back of the carriage house. It must have been where the grooms stayed in ages past, but the space had been converted into a fitness room that most top-notch gyms would drool over—weight machine, treadmill, exercise bike, even an elliptical and a rowing machine that were all top-of-the-line. Additionally, there was a large mat with a boxing bag hanging from a rope that could be hooked on and off the padded floor.
I stared in admiration. “It’s like the holy grail of exercise rooms.”
Nash nodded, a smile still on his lips from Maribelle’s tease. Nash felt different today. As if a weight which had been anchoring him below the water had broken away, freeing him to bubble to the surface. He’d become a mixture of the charming Nash I’d once known before he’d lost Darren and a man I didn’t know at all. A man who kissed me and touched me freely.
He let me go, moved across the room, and opened some cupboards where he pulled out headgear and full-body protective gear. A pair of boxing gloves tumbled out, and as he went to put them back, I said, “Don’t put those away; I want to use them after you’re done teaching.”
He held a glove in his hand as he turned to me. “You box?”
I shook my head. “But I’ve always wanted to beat the shit out of a boxing bag.”
He chuckled, setting the gloves aside.
“Who’s the protective gear for?” I asked and was surprised when he said, “Me.”
He read my surprise with a grin. “I don’t want you to hold back, but I also have no desire to end up with bruised balls. I have some ideas of how I want to use them tonight, and it isn’t sitting on ice.”
“Aw. The Otter has to wear protective gear to keep him safe from little ol’ me.”
“Keep teasing, and I won’t wear it, and then you’ll be the one wishing I had.” The sensual undertone, the double meaning, was potent, sending thrills down my spine. I wasn’t sure how much of this Nash I could take.
He waved me over as he put the gear on, and we spent the next hour with me beating him up over and over and over again. There was no doubt he was holding back on me, but true to his word, he didn’t want me to hold back on him. He actually got frustrated and half pissed at me when I went into the first punch at half strength.
“You need to do it full force now, or you won’t when it’s needed,” he said.
So, I did. At one point, I elbowed him in the face so hard the headgear went flying, and my arm cracked his cheekbone. He laughed, slamming the helmet back on and coming at me again.
I hadn’t expected it to be a wor
kout, but struggling against Nash’s superior muscles was exactly that: a workout. Every time I did something wrong, he said, “And you’re done,” as in, I’d be dead, or captured, or whatever, if it had been real life.
“Last time,” he finally said. I would have gone until my body literally wouldn’t get up before I told him I was tired. He’d seen the exhaustion in me anyway, but I was determined to surprise him one last time.
He came at me from behind, and as I tripped him, instead of running away, I went down with him. I pulled off the mask he was using and pushed my lips against his. The gear he had on covered all the places I wanted to touch, but I was still able to run my hands underneath it enough to find him through the sweatpants he was wearing.
He flipped me over on my back, removing the gear while I watched and then covering me with his body. He held my hands above my head with one of his and ran his other hand along my curves all the way down between my legs and back.
“You’re done,” he said quietly.
“Sometimes, you have to give in to win.”
He watched me for a second before lowering his lips to mine, and I had to think, in this case, we’d both won. Our bodies blending together as we moved in a delightful dance I’d remember for the rest of my life.
I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to get the scent of him and the estate out of my head and my olfactory system. I wasn’t sure how I’d let him go when I went back on the tour with Brady and he went back to a life that revolved around looking after Tristan and the SEALs. As he would. As all SEALs did. They left behind the ones they loved for the thing they loved more. The adrenaline rush. The desire to protect. The desire to serve.
I was jealous. Jealous of the military that claimed him. Jealous of the women’s names that had tripped off his tongue earlier without pause. My blood beat hot and stormy through my veins over all the things that demanded he be theirs when I only wanted him to be mine.
But I was determined he would remember this. Remember me. Remember every damn touch, and every damn word, and every damn moan.
♫ ♫ ♫
When I woke the next morning, the sun was already streaming in the window of Nash’s room where we’d spent another night lost in each other’s skin. We hadn’t bothered with dinner or chess or his family. We’d just left the gym and gone straight to his bed.
As the sunlight warmed me, I rolled over to find his side of the bed empty. In his place, there were two gorgeous flowers. One red and one white. They weren’t flowers I knew. They were similar to roses, with multiple layers, but these were fuller with sharper definition to the petals. An unexpected, gentle scent that was almost spicy, like anise or clove, wafted from them.
The reality hit me as I looked at them. Nash Wellsley had gone, cut flowers for me, and returned only to leave soundlessly again. It was romantic. Unexpected. Like him doing my laundry the day before. A sweetness that hid in his layers, tugging at that emotion called love that I was afraid to show him.
I took the flowers with me to my room, showered, and dressed.
I had two purposes in choosing the top with its scooped neckline and corset-like ribbing that traveled over my breasts. It was moderate enough to meet with the FBI and seem professional, but feminine enough to attract Nash’s eyes. Plus, the champagne color was a shout-out to the joy I was feeling.
I was still smiling when I entered the kitchen with my flowers in hand, looking for something to put them in. Maribelle was at the table in the alcove again, and we greeted each other with warm good mornings. The twinkle in her eye was still there.
“Can I borrow something to put these in?” I asked, waving the beautiful flowers.
She eyed them, and her smile widened. “Did Nash give those to you?”
I nodded, and she laughed softly.
“Why?” I said, suddenly eyeing the flowers doubtfully.
“They’re camellias,” she said as if it should answer my question.
“Are they? I’m afraid I know absolutely nothing about plants.”
“You don’t know what they mean, then?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“Red and white camellias are given to someone significant to you, and the basic message is, ‘my destiny is in your hands.’”
I stared at the flowers, unsure of how to respond. Had Nash known their meaning as well? If you’d asked me a few days ago, I would have said no way, but now I knew the truth. He was smart and gentle and romantic. A lethal combination. The thought of his destiny being in my hands was almost too much to comprehend.
Maribelle rose, went to a cupboard, and took out a bud vase. She took the flowers from me, adding water and a softly tinted pink flower from the large bouquet on the counter.
“There, it’s perfect now,” she said, handing them back to me.
“What did you add?” I asked, a little breathless.
“An iris…for hope.”
My throat caught on the emotions as they flew through me.
“Is it okay if I make some coffee?” I asked.
“You don’t need to ask. Please make yourself at home.”
That one word pushed me over the edge. It was all too much. Home and hope and destiny twined with the love flowing through me. My heart seized up. Something of what I felt must have reflected on my face even as I tried to pull the curtain down on my emotions, because Maribelle changed the subject.
“The camellias were some of the first specimens Nash’s parents brought back to the farm after their honeymoon. Most camellias don’t have a noticeable scent, but they’d found a family in the foothills above Los Angeles who purposefully bred these with the richer, spicier tones. There are also some on the farm that smell like jasmine, and others that are quite lemony, which, of course, is our signature scent.”
While she talked of flowers, I made my coffee, snatched a biscuit from the bowl on the counter, and then sat with her at the kitchen table.
“He told me about his parents,” I said, my voice rough and clogged with all my feelings from the morning as well as the thought of Nash losing them at so young of an age.
“Both such awful tragedies. Unfortunately, it took the outgoing, loving boy I knew and changed him into a quiet, fierce teen who never forgave himself or us for not being able to save them.”
“He couldn’t save his mother, so he saves the world instead,” I said.
“But who will save him?” she asked.
I didn’t know if I could do what she asked. Not if he didn’t want to be saved. Not if he wanted to take the loss from his childhood and the loss of Darren and wrap them all in guilt and a penance he’d pay for the rest of his life. But Nash had also been different in the last twenty-four hours. Lighter. With joy shining through the cracks.
So maybe there really was hope.
Maribelle patted my hand as she got up. “I’m off to meet with Greta. She’s in charge of the tours on the estate. Just so you know, we open the house and grounds to the public every weekend, and there will be people in and out starting tomorrow, which means you and Nash might need to keep those swoony kisses out of the hallways.”
She winked and left me sitting in a mixture of emotions that were twice as big as when I’d walked down the staircase.
I needed to talk to someone, and the selection of people to choose from was slim. My sisters and I rarely discussed relationships. I had no desire to reveal any of my sexual exploits with my mother, and Mac would go apeshit if he knew. Tristan had become a good friend, but she was clearly not the choice for this mixed-up call. It left Georgie. I’d have to trust her not to spill the beans to Mac. It was unfair of me to ask her to keep a secret from her husband, but if I didn’t talk to someone, I would literally implode.
I took my coffee with me into the library. I was hours late for my normal start of the day—once again. Nash was blowing all of my structure and routine to shreds, which was laughable, considering SEALs lived for both.
Georgi
e answered on the first ring. “Are you okay?”
“Yes and no. I haven’t been poisoned again, if that’s what you mean.”
“I’m sort of mad I didn’t hear about it from you,” she said, but there was no reprimand in her tone. Just concern.
“Are you somewhere you can talk?” Code for Is my brother hanging on you and placing kisses around your neck?
She laughed. “Mac had an early meeting, and I still have another thirty minutes before I have to leave for Theresa’s office.”
“How’s the case coming?” I asked. Georgie and Theresa’s case regarding immigrant children’s rights had gone all the way to the Supreme Court. It was a landmark case whether or not they won, but knowing both these talented ladies, winning was a much more likely outcome.
“It’s fine, but that’s not why you called,” Georgie prodded.
“I slept with Nash,” I said in a rush to get it out.
Silence and then Georgie’s light, musical laugh echoed through the phone, and just the fact that she was laughing about it loosened the weight in my chest.
“Was this before or after the moody looks he was giving you at the wedding?” she asked.
I tugged at my shirt, straightening it when it was in no need of straightening. “Both.”
“And now you’re holed up with him somewhere free to have all the sex you want,” she said.
“You act like there’s no one around. There’s actually a lot of people around all day long,” I said, thinking not only of his family but the help who seemed to be around the house and the property at all hours.
“Day isn’t night,” she said. “And get to the part where you tell me why this is a problem.”
“Because it’s Nash!”
“Hmm. Sexy Navy SEAL full of honor and respect for others. Recipient of a Silver Star. You’re right, what a loser. Why are you lowering yourself to that level?” she spoke, teasing to get her point across.
