The Bodyguard's Baby (Billionaire Bodyguard Series) (7 page)

“Some girl from a long time ago, I barely remember her name. But most recently, Makayla.”

She nodded. “Who can compete with a nine-year-old cutie pie?”

He expelled a humorless laugh. “You never stood a chance.”

Removing her arm from his she clenched her chocolate stained napkin in her hand. “I hate to do this, but we’re supposed to be at Cade’s penthouse for dinner in an hour.”

“Let’s hit the road.” He stood and his joints creaked and popped like he was a hundred years old. Days like today, he felt it. Old before his time.

If he wanted a good life with a good woman, he didn’t have a lot of time left to find her. The military had taken his best years, and he’d given them gladly. He’d done it to keep soft, sweet souls like Lindsey’s safe from the horrors of what happened beyond their country’s borders.

But sometimes…

Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so damaged. Sometimes he wanted to be more than a medal or the sum of his deeds. He wanted to be more than
enough.

*

“So what do you think?” Kylie asked with breathless excitement.

Lindsey wanted to share her sister’s enthusiasm, really she did. But they’d made a pact long ago not to bring up She Who Will Not Be Named—their mother.

With a shrug, Lindsey said hesitantly, “If you think this is what you need to do…”

“It’s what I was born to do,” Kylie replied with undaunted belief.

“Then yes. Of course you should pursue our stepfather for our mother’s murder.” If only the words didn’t leave a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth like blood.

Kylie clasped Lindsey’s hands. “I
knew
you’d want justice as desperately as I do.”

The stunning, museum-like surroundings of Cade Soren’s penthouse seemed the wrong place to discuss something as ugly as murder. The problem was, Lindsey thought, she didn’t feel the same as Kylie. She wanted to lay the past to rest along with their mother’s body—a woman who’d callously abandoned her family to further her social standing and pad her bank account.

What Kylie didn’t seem to understand was Lindsey had let it go. Lindsey didn’t care about their mother, or her killer. She was satisfied that Daddy had raised them well—with Kylie filling in the blanks a mother should’ve—and had zero desire to pursue justice on behalf of the woman who’d left them without a second glance. Lindsey barely remembered what their mother looked like, except for seeing occasional snapshots of her mother dancing in a skimpy costume and pluming feathers onstage. The woman hadn’t possessed a maternal bone in her body.

However, once Kylie latched onto a mystery, she refused to let it go. That’s what had brought Kylie and her fiancée Cade together in the first place. Cade’s father Jacob Soren had been a cold case file Kylie had needed to solve, probably as a way to soothe herself for not helping to solve their mother’s cold case murder.

But Lindsey understood Kylie’s good intentions, even if she didn’t agree with them, and pasted on a smile on her sister’s behalf. “It’s great that you can turn your passion toward solving our mother’s case.”

Kylie beamed. “Once Cade and I testified in the Ramos trial, I knew I couldn’t stop there.”

Therein lay the problem. Kylie would never stop pursuing cold cases, convinced she could solve them all and bring justice to the families. Justice their family had never received.

Lindsey didn’t want justice. As far as she was concerned, their mother had run into Karma on a bad day. No love lost. She wanted to leave the past where it belonged. “Of course you’ll find Mom’s killer. I always knew it was Kenneth. We both did.” She refused to reveal her true thoughts, because she’d never squash her sister’s long-held dream. “Follow your heart. Do what you think is right,” she encouraged.

Wearing a determined expression, Kylie nodded. “Enough about Mom, and future plans with me and Cade. What about you? Have you decided on the donor?”

“I have,” Lindsey said, not as thrilled as she’d hoped to be to share the news with her sister.

“Okay, let me guess.” Her sister’s eyes twinkled. “Tall, dark, handsome and brooding.”

“None of the above,” Lindsey admitted with a sigh. “He’s blonde, blue-eyed, average height, and very smart. He’s a doctor.”

“Oh.” Kylie frowned. “But you’ve always gone for the opposite type.”

You mean like Slone? “I know, but this isn’t about the type of guy I like. I’m not picking out a date—I’m selecting my child’s future. It isn’t about what I like.”

“Why not?”

Frustrated emotionally and sexually, Lindsey didn’t need her sister pressuring her further about the issue. “I’ve made up my mind, okay?” She flicked a glance at Slone and then stared down at her tightly clenched hands. “Can we just leave it at that?”

Far too perceptive with her sisterly intuition, Kylie leaned in. “The doctor isn’t who you really want to have a baby with.” The observation hit the mark and Lindsey squirmed. “Does Slone know?”

“No.” She grabbed her sister’s arm. “And he can’t know. Don’t you dare say a word to him.”

Kylie glanced at her with a startled expression.

“It doesn’t matter anyway. I called the clinic and made the arrangements. I go in for my prep appointment tomorrow afternoon, when I’m finished with my day volunteering at the library. The ultrasound will show how many follicles are viable. Next week it’ll be a done deal.”

“What if you don’t get pregnant on the first try?”

“I have to.” Tears lined Lindsey’s lashes. “If it doesn’t take, I don’t think I could go through it again.”

With an all-knowing look, Kylie patted her hand. “You mean, you don’t know if you and Slone can keep your hands off each other for another month.”

Lindsey ducked her chin sheepishly. “Something like that.”

“Oh, sweetie. I saw the chemistry between you two at the Halloween party. Here it is, the first week of December, and you’ve shut in together under the same roof all this time. I’m shocked you have managed to stay out of each other’s beds this long.”

“Shhh! He can’t know about our discussion.”

“You realize he’s glanced over at you several times in the past ten minutes, studying your expressions. I think he knows,” her sister said dryly.

Lindsey’s shoulders slumped. “We kissed today. Twice.”

“Was it good?”

“Amazing,” Lindsey said miserably.

Kylie chewed on her lower lip in thought. “This may be unorthodox, but would you consider asking him to be the father?”

“Of course I’ve considered it. But that would bring up a whole new host of problems and legalities.”

“How do you know unless you ask?”

Lindsey shrugged. “That’s a life-altering question with far-reaching consequences. I only have a week.”

“Slone is a thoughtful, confident man. The type who can make life-changing decisions quickly and stand by them. He
was
a Navy SEAL.”

“I know. I don’t know, maybe. I’ll think about it.”

Kylie smiled kindly at her. “Don’t take too long, or you’ll both run out of time. Hey, this could be fate intervening, bringing you two together at the exact right time.”

Lindsey shook her head. “Since when do you believe in fate?”

Kylie sent an impassioned glance at Cade. “Since I found the love of my life where I least expected.”

Glad to have something else to focus on, Lindsey jumped in eagerly. “Any wedding details?”

“Not yet. We have time.” Kylie squeezed Lindsey’s hand. “But you don’t. Focus on yourself, do some soul searching, and decide what—and who—you really want. Listen to your heart. You’ve always excelled at that, far better than I have.”

Lindsey gave a dramatic eye roll. “Seriously. All this logic and practicality is such a drag.”

Kylie laughed. “Then just be yourself. The you that I love. Throw caution to the wind like you always do. Somehow you always land on your feet and end up with all you desire.”

“But this is my future, my child’s future,” Lindsey said with a stressed sigh.

“You’ll make the right choice,” Kylie assured. “I believe in you.”

“Thanks.”

I wish I believed in myself right now.

Lindsey wasn’t sure what to do. She’d always been a live-in-the-moment kind of girl. She landed where the wind took her, followed her whims, loved the adventure of life and the unknown.

But now she had another little life to consider whose happiness outweighed her own. She wished she could glimpse the future, even for a second, to find the right answer she desperately sought.

The morning after Slone had kissed her at the ice rink, Lindsey didn’t hear him leave for his early morning check-in at Soren Security. Groggier than usual, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and took a hot shower to wake herself up. But nothing washed away the longing for him still churning in her bloodstream.

Remembering the steamy intensity of his kisses, desire spread through her like a slow burning fire. It consumed her doubts and filled her thoughts with hot, passionate images of their bodies naked and entwined.

A sex-crazed woman she didn’t recognize had overtaken her body. Nowhere on the fertility medication warning labels did side effects mention insatiable lust. Especially since Slone had admitted he wanted to answer her primal physical call of attraction, but refused to for both their sakes.

All her chaste intentions left her with a gaping emptiness only he could fill.

Glad he’d left before she had awakened, before she did something ludicrous like slide in between the warm sheets of bed beside him at dawn, she dressed and microwaved her morning bowl of oatmeal. She heaped on brown sugar and frozen blueberries, forcing herself to ingest one spoonful at a time.

Up to now, she’d constantly felt famished. It appeared her need for his touch outweighed her body’s desire for food. So unlike her.

Finally unable to force feed herself, she abandoned the half-eaten bowl, tucked her bare feet under her, and stared out the back kitchen window. The howling wind created three-foot snow drifts against the garage, where a bare garden trellis sagged forlornly, as useless as a scarecrow after crops had been harvested. At least cacti bloomed in the desert. Here, only evergreens contrasted against the empty branches, gray sky, and white canvas of snow draped over the city.

Then she tilted her head, realizing she stared into the neighbor’s backyard, a gaping hole that the bows of a majestic pine tree had covered until today. Weighted down by heavy precipitation, many of the lower branches had splintered or snapped from the trunk, creating a pathetic saggy tent. The poor old tree had given up after years of defiance against the snow. She’d appreciated its sturdy bows and stalwart presence anchoring the landscape.

Then she snorted. Okay, maybe Slone had been right. She was a tree-hugger. Not that she’d ever admit it to him. She’d never hear the end of it.

For a while she considered contacting Devon Leigh Soren, the townhouse owner, to ask what they should do about the broken branches. Before she could, Slone arrived home, his truck caked in icy snow. He informed Lindsey he’d handle it, no need to bother Devon. He went back out, braving the hazardous roads to the local home improvement store, and returned with a chainsaw and a wickedly sharp ax.

She gaped at him. “Before you go all Jack Nicholson in
The Shining
on that tree, maybe we should call Devon and see what she wants us to do.”

“Nah. I’ve got this.”

Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “Of course you do.”

When she took the occasional break from writing classroom lesson plans, she peered at him from the ice-frosted window. He resembled a mighty Celtic warrior, strong and proud, throwing himself into the manly task of wood chopping.

Seeing him in the light of a primitive “provider” role, she felt ribbons of lust curling through her abdomen.  She couldn’t help it. Her body reacted powerfully to the sexy sight of him wielding an ax. Probably some ancient, ingrained feminine response to watching a muscular stud overpowering nature with brute force. So weird. But since it happened so often, she’d stopped questioning her body’s innate attraction to this man.

Displaying super human strength, withstanding the frigid temperatures and sheeting snow, Slone went at the tree branches with a vengeance. He managed to reduce the broken tented branches to perfectly hewn firewood, and stacked it neatly in the garage next to his truck.

Eventually, his obsessive gusto caused her a flicker of concern. After several hours had passed, she knew he shouldn’t be out there all day like this, wearing only a flannel-lined canvas L.L. Bean coat, tan work boots, leather gloves, and a black knit ski cap. And she told him so when she bundled up and brought him a mug of hot chocolate.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she reminded, hoping he related to the reference and decided not to over-do it.

Breathing heavily, he drove the beveled edge of the ax into a thick branch on the ground. He wiped sweat from his brow, tugged off his gloves using his teeth, and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. Then he stepped back, standing beside her as he calculated his progress. “This is nothing,” he said.

“It’s quite a lot,” she countered. “And unnecessary. What do you have against this poor tree anyway?”

“The tree’s fine. It’ll recover no problem, once the dead weight is gone.” He sipped hot chocolate. “We’re running low on firewood anyway. Why spend a fortune at the store when there’s plenty here for free?”

For a moment her gaze lingered on his lips, and liquid sensation slipped through her veins. She wanted his mouth against hers again, only this time she didn’t want him to stop kissing her. Then she noticed the puffy red pockets of skin forming along the L-shape of his left thumb and forefinger. “Nothing to kill yourself over. Blisters are painful.”

He shook his head. “Like I said, this is nothing.” He removed his black hat, letting the breeze ruffle his sweat-spiked hair. “Every summer break from school, I spent a solid month with Uncle Jimmy in the woods, thinning out the forest and chopping up logs. Backbreaking, but good hard work, with results you see at the end of the day.”

“Why go to so much trouble?” She couldn’t fathom.

Wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve, he returned his hat, tugging it down over his red ears. “Uncle Jimmy’s house had a wood-burning furnace. Rural Kentucky, remember.” He smiled fondly. “Just me and him in the forest, dawn till dusk, stockpiling thousands of logs for fuel in his basement to prep for the winter months.”

“That’s impressive.”

“Kind of like meditation.” As he sipped from his mug, he sent her a sidelong glance. “You get it.”

“I do.” She smiled. “That makes sense.”

“Something about being surrounded by all those old trees. I don’t know. There’s something spiritual about a forest, seeing the cycles of nature everywhere you look. Puts things into perspective. Empties your head of stupid crap. Makes you appreciate the land and what it provides for your survival.”

“How eco-conscious of you,” she pointed out.

He snorted. “Yeah, something like that. I guess I miss those summers. Hell at the time, but valuable looking back.”

A reverent smile slid across her lips, appreciating the deeper aspects to this man. He’d probably jump off a cliff before he lectured anyone about lofty ideals in a classroom, but he held a personal set of ideals and thoughtful philosophies. She admired that a great deal.

Lately, it seemed every time she turned around she discovered a new, evolving aspect of him that endeared him to her further. “Need any help?” she asked, trying to hide a shiver.

He slanted her a dismissing glance as if she’d asked him if she could try out for Olympic weightlifting. “I got this, babe. Go inside and keep warm. I’ll be in later.”

Startled by the unexpected endearment, she lost her words. She nodded mutely, took the mug he handed her, and returned to the blessed heat of the townhouse that required nothing more strenuous than writing a check to the gas company.

Somewhere along the way, Slone had grown on her. In a good way. She really liked him. His work ethic, his background and past, his can-do attitude no matter how intense the task. All traits she could describe to her child, but couldn’t emulate the way a father would—without words, teaching by doing instead of theorizing. Slone’s stock in trade.

With a heavy-hearted sigh, she wished Marissa had never planted the thought in her mind that Slone could be an ideal choice as the father of her baby. Now she wanted him—only him. The one person she couldn’t have.

*

It startled Lindsey each time Slone walked the hall past the elementary school library and caught her eye. He stood out glaringly against the backdrop of cartoon murals and children’s handcrafted art pinned to the walls, with his well-muscled height and brooding intensity.

When the next bell rang, a new group of kids filtered into the library. As a substitute teacher preparing for a full-time position in January, she volunteered any chance that came her way, including library duty, since no mom could make it today.

The fresh-faced, bright-eyed first graders collected themselves dutifully in a semi-circle around the empty chair where their “special reader” should be sitting, book in hand, ready to read to the kids. She checked her watch and realized the special reader should’ve arrived by now. She approached the head librarian. “Isn’t someone supposed to read to the kids now?”

“Supposed to.” The gray-haired woman shrugged. “I believe a local fireman was assigned for today. I guess he canceled without telling us.”

Anxious to keep the kids under control, Lindsey led them in a little sing along for another five minutes. No fireman.

When Slone passed by again, Lindsey raced into the hallway and grabbed his hand. “I need you. It’s an emergency.”

He blinked but followed her. “What kind of emergency?”

“We don’t have anyone to read to the kids.”

He stopped cold. “What about you?”

“No, you don’t understand. Every day there’s a special reader, a surprise guest, who comes to the library and reads to the classes. They know me, but you’re new and special. You have to do this for me. Please?”

He sent a pained glance at the twenty-two kids growing restless a few yards away. “Seriously?”

She gave him a winning smile and batted her lashes.

“You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered.

Yes!
“Thank you. This means a lot to them.”

He arched an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

Pulling him toward the pint sized group, she introduced Slone. “Welcome to special reader day. This is Mr. Rowan, and he’s going to read ‘Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.’”

Squeals of laughter and delight erupted. The story was a first-grade favorite. She handed Slone the slim book with more pictures than words. “It’s a short, cute story,” she murmured to him. “Just slip into character. I know you’ve done more impressive impersonations before in your Special Ops missions, so this won’t be hard.” She winked.

He frowned. “Uh-huh.”

“I saw you in the hall,” a boy with deep dimples said. “Do you work here?”

“I’m here as a guardian,” Slone said as he sank into the comfortable, cushioned reading chair. “Do you know what guardians do?”

A girl with pigtails raised her hand and Slone gestured to her. “You guard stuff. Are you here to make sure no one steals anything?”

“I’m here watching over you, making sure everyone is safe.”

“Are you a policeman?” another boy with a face full of freckles asked. “I want to be the police when I grow up.”

Slone smiled and nodded. “That’s a good goal.”

“I want to be a policeman, too,” another child added, then another, until a chorus of little voices echoed their desire to be one of the men and women in blue someday.

Lindsey covered a grin with her hand.

“I’m not a policeman. I worked for the military doing special, secret missions,” Slone said with a slight whisper in his tone.

“Wow, what kinda missions?” the freckled boy asked with wide eyes.

Slone rubbed his chin. “If I told you, they wouldn’t be secret, would they?”

Adoring the way Slone interacted with the children, so natural and unexpectedly charming, Lindsey folded her arms and fought back tears.
Stupid hormones,
she griped to herself. Why else would she grow weepy watching this big tough guy who’d fought terrorists enchanting small children with the intriguing mystery of his career?

After he’d patiently answered all their questions at a level first-graders could understand, he cracked open the book and instantly delved into clever characterization. He used distinct voices for the bus driver and the pigeon.

The pigeon voice he created was hilarious! Without having ever read the story, he mastered the character and viewpoint of the manipulative pigeon who tried to convince the children he should drive the bus. The first graders loved it, grinning and laughing hysterically at the pigeon’s antics as he—Slone—bribed and bartered and finally pitched a fit for the chance to drive the bus.

The kids won out, par for the course in correlation to the story’s progression.

When he closed the book, Slone smiled with a joyful twinkling light in his gray eyes she’d never seen before. As though interacting with the kids with such a fun premise had brought out the best in him.

Would a baby bring out the best in him like this? All the time?

Her chin wobbled and she glanced away. That’s when she realized Slone had more than first graders for an audience. Several female teachers had wandered in without her noticing their presence. The women ogled him, practically swooning, as they drooled over the sexy hunk reading to kids.