by Terri Reed
He knocked on Caroline’s door. No answer. Anxiety kicked up, making his heart race. He opened the door. The room was empty. Had she gone downstairs without him?
Hurrying downstairs, he found the Maddox family, minus Elijah, at the table. He slipped into the seat next to Caroline. Now was not the time to lecture her about not waiting for him to escort her.
She smiled a greeting but a distance in her eyes didn’t sit well with him. Concerned, he studied her. Though she’d said she’d slept decently, dark circles appeared beneath her tawny eyes. A knot formed in his chest. Despite how calm and collected she appeared with her hair gathered into a clip at her nape and the scooped collar of her red blouse accentuating the slender column of her throat, tension visibly tightened around her mouth. And he hated to see the marks on her neck from last night’s attack—proof that he hadn’t been able to protect her well enough. But in spite of everything, she sat straight and tall.
She was trying hard to be brave and strong. Admiration and affection grew, making him want to shield her from the horrors of this world, not just physically but emotionally, like a real fiancé would.
A warning bell went off in his head. Stop right there, Cavanaugh. You’re her bodyguard not her fiancé. Thinking of them together, as a couple, could get her killed. Stay uninvolved emotionally. Yeah, right. Like he hadn’t already broken that rule a hundred times since she’d walked into Trent Associates. Lame, dude. Really lame.
“Caroline, I wanted to say thank you for putting out so many decorations. The entryway and parlor are so cheery,” Abigail said with a pleased smile.
“You’re welcome,” Caroline replied. She lifted a glass of orange juice. “Merry Christmas.”
“Hear, hear,” Samuel said, holding up his glass. “Merry Christmas and welcome to the newly returned member of our family and her fiancé.”
Don raised his glass. “Merry Christmas. May we all make it through the next week without mishap.”
Caroline met his gaze. “I’ll drink to that.” She sipped from her glass.
“So when are your nuptials?” Abigail asked over the rim of her cup of coffee.
“Spring—” Caroline said.
“Summer—” Don said at the same time.
Playing the fiancé to the hilt, he stretched his arm around Caroline’s shoulders. He told himself the possessive gesture was for show, but he couldn’t quite make himself believe it, not when touching her felt so natural, so right. “We haven’t finalized the details.”
Abigail smiled. “There are lots of details to decide upon. I planned Samuel’s and my wedding. I would be happy to help you, Caroline. Would you like a traditional church wedding or something more modern?”
Caroline choked on a sip of juice.
Don patted her back. “You’re kind to offer. We’ll absolutely consider your generosity.”
Feeling Caroline stiffen, he steered the conversation away from his and Caroline’s engagement. “Samuel, do you have a car I could borrow? Our rental is still trapped by the fallen tree.”
“Of course, you’re welcome to use my Bentley. May I ask where you intend to drive?”
“Down the road until I can get a signal on my cell.”
Samuel pinned him with a curious look. “Is there something you require?”
“Work. I need to check in with some clients.”
“What kind of work do you, Donovan?” Abigail asked.
“Investments,” he answered easily because he was telling the truth. He had a personal side business—managing several portfolios for former protectees and for James Trent in addition to his work at Trent Associates.
Numbers had always come easily. After his tour of duty, he’d attended night classes at Woods College of Advancing Studies, a division of Boston College, and achieved a professional studies certificate in finance. Trent had even footed the tuition, claiming they could use a financial person in-house.
Samuel perked up. “Really? I could use some advice on a few stock options that I’ve been thinking of investing in.”
Aware of Caroline’s studied gaze, Don said, “I’d love to hear what you’re thinking and if I can help, I will.”
Beneath the table, Caroline touched his leg. He grasped her hand and gave a gentle squeeze, silently promising to fill her in later.
The rest of the breakfast went by in small talk. When they were done with the eggs Benedict and trays of fresh fruit, the family retired to the parlor while Don escorted Caroline upstairs to visit her grandfather.
“Do you really know stocks and investments?” she whispered as they walked down the hall.
“Yes. It started out more a hobby and became its own side business.”
“Impressive. I didn’t realize you were a numbers guy as well as a bodyguard.”
He refrained from saying she didn’t know a lot about him.
They reached the end of the hall and Caroline knocked on Elijah’s bedroom door before entering. The old man’s eyes were closed. His skin was pale in the dim light coming through the cracks in the drawn curtain. Apprehension twisted Don’s gut. Asleep? Or dead?
Caroline checked Elijah’s pulse. Her shoulders visibly relaxed. Asleep.
“Let’s not disturb him,” she whispered, drawing Don from the room. “Are you really checking in with clients?”
“Trent Associates. Though James is technically a client,” Don clarified. “Horace is very protective of his satellite phone. Besides, too many ears here.”
Understanding danced across Caroline’s face.
“I want to have the office run a background check on the doctor. And find out why the New Orleans Police Department left out such an important detail of no forced entry into Isabella’s apartment.”
She twirled the gold-studded earring in her left ear. He could see her mind working. “I’ll stay here.”
“No can do. Which reminds me we need to have a talk about you not wandering this house alone.”
“But I want to read Isabella’s diary and yearbook.”
“Bring them with you. I don’t want you out of my sight.”
She laid her hand on his arm. The pressure gentle, yet searing. “Isn’t that going a little overboard?”
He covered her hand with his own, stemming the urge to pull her into his arms and kiss her again, to show her how very important she was becoming to him. He forced words out despite the constriction in his chest. “Not when it comes to your safety.”
She blinked, her gaze dipping to where their skin touched. When she raised her gaze, the yearning in her eyes nearly undid his self-control.
Slipping her hand away, she backed up as if she too felt the need to put distance between them before they did something they’d regret. Developing a relationship under tense circumstance wasn’t a wise choice for anyone.
“I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes.”
Watching her hurry to her room, Don tried to recite his Rules of Protection but they stuck in his throat.
Okay, Lord, I’m going to need Your strength here. Because obviously when it came to Caroline, the rules went out the window.
The soothing patter of rain pelting the exterior of the car created an insular atmosphere. Caroline snuggled deeper into the butter-soft passenger seat of Samuel’s borrowed Bentley. The interior smelled of polished leather. The wood grain inlaid dashboard gleamed. Definitely better maintained than the manor house. “I don’t know much about cars, but this one must be worth a pretty penny. Part of the estate, or Samuel’s personal property?”
“Good question.” Don pulled the car into a turn-out and cut the engine. He checked his phone. “Got a signal.”
Within a few moments he was connected to Trent Associates and was relaying the events since they’d arrived to someone
named Simone. It occurred to Caroline that bodyguards didn’t take days off even for holidays. She glanced at Don and tried not to notice the strong line of his jaw or the way the timbre of his voice slid pleasant little shivers down her spine. She liked how dedicated he was.
Despite her best intentions, it was impossible to ignore her growing attraction to and affection for her bodyguard. She was so thankful she wasn’t going through this alone. She needed him, his quiet strength and steady presence.
And she found herself wanting more.
More of his touches, more of his kisses.
Thinking about what her life would be like when this was over, when he was no longer her protector, made her ache in ways she vowed she wouldn’t allow again. Letting her heart become attached to Don would only lead to heartache because she wasn’t sure she could trust her heart to anyone again.
Disgusted with her foolishness, she flipped through Isabella’s yearbook, scanning the pictures and the names hoping for a glimpse of her birth mother. She curled the edges of the pages, bookmarking the places where Isabella Maddox’s name appeared. She’d been in the chess club, freshman student council, the school newspaper and the debate club.
As she read the names beneath the group photo, a particular name jumped out at her sending her heart pounding.
“I appreciate it, Simone,” Don said into the phone. “Thank you.”
As soon as he clicked off, Caroline said, “Look at this.” She angled the yearbook so Don could see where she was pointing. “Randall Paladin—the lawyer who contacted me about the estate—and my mother were in the same debate club.”
Don’s jaw tightened. “Now that is interesting.”
“Can you call him? Set up an appointment?” she asked, anxious to talk to the man. “He knew my mother. Maybe he can shed some light on who she was seeing.”
Don punched in the number for information and asked the operator for Paladin’s number. Antsy with anticipation, Caroline tapped her foot, the rhythmic sound filling the interior of the car.
Punching End on the cell phone, Don said, “Got a recorded message. The office is closed today but will be open tomorrow.”
Trying not to be disappointed, she closed the yearbook. “Then we’ll have to wait until then. What did your friend have to say at Trent?”
“Simone will check with N.O.P.D. and get back to me.” He held out his phone. “Would you like to call your parents?”
Grateful for his thoughtfulness, she took the phone and punched in her parent’s number. When her mother answered, Caroline’s heart squeezed tight. It was strange not to be home on Christmas. She could imagine the smells of gingerbread cake and turkey roasting in the oven. Talking to her parents made Caroline homesick. But they were safe and that was what mattered most to her. As she hung up, she sighed.
“Everything all right?” Don asked.
Handing back his phone, she nodded. “Yes. They’re good. I miss them. This is my first Christmas away from them.”
“You never celebrated with Cullen’s family?”
Surprise washed over her. Don’s sensitivity was endearing. “No. Cullen’s parents divorced when he was young. His dad lives in California and his mother retired to Florida around the time we met. Neither one did much for the holidays. Spending Christmas with my family made Cullen happy.”
“I’d imagine spending the time with you was what made him happy.”
She met his gaze and liked the kindness in his eyes. And wished his words were true. But in the end, she knew Cullen had preferred someone else’s company. “Thank you for saying that.”
He shrugged. “I know how I’d feel.”
She raised an eyebrow, not sure how to take his comment. But more important, not sure she wanted to delve where the comment could lead. Don was quickly breaching the barricade she’d erected around her heart without even trying. What would happen if he really tried to make her fall for him?
She’d be a goner for sure. So not going to happen.
As if he’d realized how revealing his words were, he flashed a sheepish smile and without another word started the engine. He pulled the Bentley back out onto the road. Charged silence filled the car. When they arrived back at the house two vans were parked out front. Men were working on the power lines while a crew worked to clear the fallen tree from the driveway.
As they entered the house, Samuel came out of the library. “Ah, you’re back. Don, do you have a few moments to talk about my portfolio?”
Caroline could see his hesitation. His words about her not wandering through the house alone echoed in her head. But she needed a couple minutes of solitude. “Go. I’d like to take a short nap anyway.”
“I’ll walk you up.”
“No need.”
She could tell he wanted to argue, but with Samuel watching he refrained. “Yell if you need me.”
Though his tone was light, there was caution lacing the words. He meant scream. “I will.”
For Samuel’s sake, she leaned close, intending to brush a kiss against his cheek like a loving fiancé would. He turned his head and their lips met. A sweet, gentle kiss that she wanted to linger in. Samuel’s chuckle jerked her back to reality. They were pretending to be engaged. But that didn’t feel like pretend. Just as the kiss the night before hadn’t felt fake.
And one look in Don’s eyes made her believe he felt the same buzz of attraction. Didn’t he realize there was nothing but disaster there?
SEVEN
Caroline hurried up the stairs. Lilly and Landon emerged from a room to her right. The pesky pair blocked her way.
Caroline crossed her arms like her favorite English teacher and asked, “Hey, guys, what’s up?”
Her gaze shifted between the two teens. Their dark expressions sent a chill tripping down her back. Where was their Christmas spirit and goodwill?
“You need to leave,” Lilly demanded, her voice edged in anger.
Okay, the kid had nothing on Scrooge. Caroline arched an eyebrow, not liking the girl’s attitude.
“We don’t want you here,” Landon added. “You’re an outsider.”
Not sure how to respond to such blatant hostility, Caroline sought to diffuse the situation. They were kids, she reminded herself, not monsters. At least she prayed so.
“I realize this is a difficult time right now. With your grandfather sick and strangers in the house—”
“You just want his money,” Lilly sneered. “But you’re not entitled to it. You haven’t lived here, taking care of Grandfather the way we have.”
Was the kid reiterating words she’d heard from her father and mother? “You’re right, I haven’t been here. I didn’t know about any of you.”
“Well, now you do. And we don’t want you here,” Lilly said.
Landon turned on his sister. “That’s what I said.”
Lilly shot him a glare. “Shut up.”
“Make me,” Landon taunted.
Lilly rolled her eyes and then pointed a finger at Caroline. “You don’t belong here.”
“So you’ve said,” Caroline replied, her patience wearing thin.
“Lilly! Landon!” Abigail glided toward them. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” Landon muttered.
Lilly’s mouth scrunched up in a sullen pout.
“Leave your cousin alone,” Abigail said. She gave Caroline an apologetic smile. “Never mind them, dear. We don’t have many visitors.”
As if such a flimsy excuse would explain the teens’ rudeness. “No worries, Abigail. I don’t scare easily.”
Abigail flared her nostrils and squared her shoulders. “I am quite certain if the children’s intent had been to scare you, Caroline, your hair would be standing on end.”
With a sigh, Abigail visibly reined in her displeasure. “They’ve run off several tutors over the years.”
“Ah. I see.” But was the twin’s naughtiness of a malicious nature? Just how far would they go? The question lingered in Caroline’s mind as Abigail hustled the kids away.
Contrary to her words, Caroline was shaken by her encounter with her cousins.
Apprehension rippled over her as she thought how vulnerable she’d been snoozing away on the top bunk in Lilly’s room. With so much anger simmering beneath the surface, would the girl harm Caroline during the night if she once again slept in the bunk bed?
Had one of them been in her room last night?
No, whoever had attacked her had been big and muscular.
One thing was certain—Caroline would not be sleeping in the teen’s room again.
She retreated to the original bedroom she’d been assigned and trying to think like Don, she pulled the ladder-back chair from the front of the vanity table to the door. She tilted the chair back and wedged it beneath the engraved brass door handle, then turned the lock.
She turned to stare at the wardrobe. Glancing around, her gaze landed on the brass table lamp. Quickly she unplugged the lamp and then, wielding it like a weapon, approached the wardrobe. Gathering her courage, she yanked open the doors, prepared to bash an intruder on the head. The wardrobe was empty.
A relieved and embarrassed laugh bubbled. She closed the doors and replaced the lamp. Feeling relatively safe, she curled up on the bed with Isabella’s diary and college yearbook.
She opened the diary. The words flowed in neatly penned script. Isabella wrote of her excitement to be going off to college, her classes and things she was learning. About halfway through the journal, she mentioned two men, one of whom she loved and the other she wished would leave her alone. But oddly and to Caroline’s complete frustration only once did she mention a name—Johnny.
Could this be Caroline’s father or the name of Isabella’s stalker? Despite her aggravation at the lack of straightforward answers, Caroline couldn’t help but be moved by the description of the man Isabella loved.