Bodyguards Boxed Set

by Julianne MacLean

  His sometimes icy blue eyes flamed with burning interest. And desire. “You are.”

  * * *

  EARLY FRIDAY EVENING Cord lounged across from Stacey on a chaise by the pool. “Stace?”

  “Hmm?” She looked up from her sketchbook and scanned his long lean frame, clad only in black swim trunks.

  “Are you going to stay at Canfield Glass forever?”

  Her eyes narrowed on him. “How do you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Know what I’m thinking?”

  “Osmosis.”

  “Oh, clever, McKay. We haven’t been that close.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m almost out of rubbers.”

  She could feel the heat rise to her cheeks. “Well, I liked the other ways, too, where you don’t need them.”

  “Have you no shame, woman?”

  “None, where you’re concerned.”

  That brought a slight trace of color on his cheekbones. Combined with the sunburn he’d gotten from the few hours they’d spent frolicking in the pool, it looked good on him. As a matter of fact, Cord had never looked as good as he did now. There was something about him today, an absence of tension. She hadn’t realized how coiled he’d been, until he uncoiled. Sketching him, she noticed even more how relaxed he was.

  “Anyway, I can’t see you punching numbers the rest of your life,” he continued.

  “I do more than that.”

  “You don’t use your real talent.”

  She watched him closely. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll discuss that, if you’ll answer a question for me.”

  He stiffened. “Depends on the question.”

  “What do you plan to do with your life?”

  Dark sadness glimmered in his eyes. He leaned back and said, “I’m not sure. After I had to give up police work...”

  “You miss it so much it hurts, don’t you?”

  “How could you know that?”

  “Just some things you’ve said. I gather even coming back to Canfield was difficult.”

  “It was.”

  “Tell me why.”

  “I haven’t ever told anyone about this.” She remained silent as he looked out at the sunset. “First of all, the nature of the work was so different. In Canfield, we get one or two cases of homicide every few years. In New York murders are commonplace.”

  “What else?”

  “The calls for service are more frequent there, too. When I first came here, I thought I’d go stir-crazy on duty with nothing to do. But you know what got to me the most?”

  “What?”

  “Police work is more personal here. An officer knows the people who are hurt, who do foolish or terrible things. In the big city, it’s all anonymous. That’s easier somehow.” He shook his head. “But I’d do it all over again for Meggie.”

  Stacey scowled.

  “What is it?” Cord asked.

  “You miss her, don’t you?”

  “More than I could ever imagine.”

  “I’m sorry it’s too dangerous to see her more often. But we’ll get to see her in two weeks, on her birthday, won’t we?”

  “Uh-huh. Hard to believe she’ll be five.”

  “Old enough for pierced ears, I think.”

  He arched a dark blond eyebrow. “Do I detect a conspiracy here?”

  “No conspiracy. Anyway, answer my question about what you’re going to do.”

  “I don’t know. I kind of like this bodyguard stuff. Particularly when I’ve got such a nice body to guard.”

  “Forget it, McKay. You’re not guarding other bodies, if I have any say.”

  His face shuttered more quickly than a camera lens. The gesture told her very clearly she would have no say. They would have no future. And she was too afraid of hearing him confirm this to confront him about it. Instead, she went on, “To answer your question, I don’t know about the Glassworks job.” She peered at the image of him she’d created. God, the sketch broadcast her feelings like a news clip. All the love she felt, all the hope for keeping him in her life, was scrawled across the paper. “Maybe I’ll think about doing something more creative.”

  “Good. You’re wasting your talent at CGW.”

  “You wouldn’t happen to want me away from Preston, would you, Cord?”

  He spread his legs so his feet touched down on either side of the chaise. “Come here, and I’ll show you what I want.”

  She stood, crossed the few feet to him and knelt between his legs. “How long before it’s dark?” she asked.

  “Why?”

  “Because you know that pool fantasy you told me about?”

  He swallowed hard and nodded.

  “It’s time to make it come true.”

  * * *

  “WHERE ARE WE going? You said we could stay here all weekend.” Stacey tugged on a pink cotton dress and slipped into sandals as Cord shrugged into a shirt early Saturday morning.

  “We can. But if I don’t go to the drugstore, we’ll be playing chess for the next two days.”

  She smiled, then her face sobered. It was something she’d been doing a lot. Laughing one minute, somber the next. Rightfully so, given his mixed feelings about their relationship.

  “I don’t care if I get pregnant,” she said unexpectedly. “I’d love to have your baby.”

  Cord struggled to remain impassive at her statement. He prayed that she didn’t detect the momentary leap of hope he felt in his soul when he pictured her now-flat belly swollen with his child. “Stace, don’t joke.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  “Then don’t be foolish.”

  “Don’t start on my being too young, McKay.”

  “All right, just get dressed. Besides the drugstore, I have to stop at my house to pick up some things I need.”

  She studied him for a minute, but obviously decided to drop the subject. “Will I get to see Meggie? That would be worth leaving here. Almost.”

  “No, my mother took her to my aunt’s in Elmore for the weekend. We also have to pick up the new bathroom door I ordered. I have to stain it and hang it before your father gets home.’’

  Impish delight turned up the corners of her mouth. “That should teach you to control your caveman instincts.”

  He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, mimicking a roughness she’d know was feigned. “You should be glad about those instincts. We wouldn’t be together if it wasn’t for those instincts.”

  She raised her chin, her eyes clear and determined. “We were meant to be together. I feel it in my soul.”

  She couldn’t have been more wrong. But he said nothing, kissing her briefly instead.

  They ran their errands and were back home in an hour. It was late afternoon by the time Cord had stained the door and hung it. Of course, Stacey had done her best to distract him, floating on her back in the pool clad in a shameless bikini that he told her he was going to burn after this weekend. The whole task had taken twice as long because she’d managed to entice him to stop when he was replacing the door, leave it partly unhinged and make love to her right on the bathroom floor.

  There was no doubt she had him behaving in uncharacteristic ways, especially now. God, what a lovesick sap you are, McKay, he thought later as he reread the note he’d written, sealed it in an envelope, scrawled her name on the front, and stuck it under her bedroom door. He berated himself all the way downstairs, and as he picked up the phone to call in favors several people around town owed him.

  At nine o’clock, he paced the pool area. Late August twilight cloaked the patio, and the crickets had started their nightly serenade. He ran his hand inside the starched collar of his pristine white shirt, and loosened the Windsor knot of his tie, thankful he didn’t have to suffer this kind of torture every day.

  But it was worth every twinge when Stacey appeared in the archway of the French doors. Her eyes swept the scene, but when they landed on him, they stuck...and glowed. “Wow!” she whispered.

  “Wow, you
rself. You look exquisite.”

  Her jaw gaped. She managed to strut to him, though, making his mouth go dry. “I’ve never seen you like this,” she said.

  “I know.” He felt his heart stutter. “You like it?”

  “Are you kidding? You fill out a pair of jeans like no man I’ve ever seen before, but what your shoulders do to that wool is lethal. Nice suit, McKay. Come from New York?”

  “Yep. My one and only splurge on fancy clothes.”

  “It was worth every penny. Do you know what the gray does to your eyes?”

  He grinned as she ran her hand across a lapel, then straightened the knot of his silk tie. He kissed her nose, ran his palm down the back of her sequined dress and cupped her bottom. He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “The night of your birthday? When you wore this? I wanted to break Matthews’s arm when he touched you. I wanted so badly to have my hands on you when you were in this dress.”

  Her smile was sinful. “Is that why your note told me to wear it?”

  He nodded.

  “Then touch all you like.” She pitched that purring voice lower. “I don’t have any underwear on beneath it.”

  “Witch! Keep that up, and I’m going to lose sight of the purpose of this evening.”

  “Which is?”

  “Well, it certainly isn’t to take you on the slate pavement—which is where we’re headed if you don’t watch that sassy mouth of yours.”

  She pouted as if she’d taken lessons from Marilyn Monroe. “You don’t like my mouth?”

  In answer, he kissed it hard. Then he let go of her while he still could, and strode into the house, switched on a soft, romantic rock CD and returned to the table he’d set up in the corner. She was already there, inspecting what he’d put out. Lifting the Dom Perignon from its bucket, he poured champagne into two Steuben crystal goblets. Facing her, he handed her a glass.

  “What are we celebrating?”

  He traced her jaw with his free hand. “I’m not much with words, Stace, so I thought I’d show you how I felt.” His throat clogged. Emotion welled up inside him, hard to control, since he’d spent a lifetime avoiding this kind of intense feeling.

  She must have caught his state of mind. “You’ve told me you love me, Cord. I believe you.”

  He shook his head. “I’ve got to be sure you know how much I care.” Lifting a strand of curly hair and fingering its silkiness, he said, “You mean so much to me. You are so precious, so special.”

  Her eyes grew wide, but she didn’t speak.

  “I don’t deserve you, Stace. But you’ve got to know, to understand, that I’ve never, ever felt this way about a woman before.” He smiled ruefully. “I want to show you all this tonight. I want to spoil you rotten, to court you, to give you all the romance I won’t—” He cut off the negative reference to the future. He wouldn’t think about another man having her someday. He wouldn’t think about another man romancing her like this. He wouldn’t think about her committing herself for life to some other guy. He shifted the mood, and smiled, though his heart was crushed by the knowledge that all those things would happen. “I want to do something for you, with you, besides jump you on the bathroom floor.”

  Tears had formed in her luscious brown eyes, but she smiled. “The bathroom floor will never be the same to me. I’ve loved every single thing you’ve done to me in the last three days.” She looked around. “And I love this.” She looped an arm around his neck and clinked glasses with him. “I love you, Cord McKay. In an Armani suit, in faded jeans and as bare as the day you were born. Nothing will ever change that.”

  He knew the one thing that would. When he told her about Helene. His heart stopped beating for a second. He hadn’t realized he’d decided to do it. But the overflowing love he felt for her right now, the bubbling, effusive depth of feeling he’d developed for this lovely young woman, hit him with the accuracy of an arrow hitting a bull’s-eye, forcing him to admit that he had to be honest with her. It was a sham to their feelings, an insult to his love for her and her love for him, to keep this obscene secret any longer.

  But he didn’t have to tell her tonight. Not tonight, he thought as he took her glass, set both down and drew her into his arms. Tonight, they’d dance under the moonlight, eat the lobster and white asparagus he’d ordered from the most expensive restaurant in Canfield and make love.

  Sunday would be soon enough for the confession that would end it all.

  * * *

  AT NOON THE next day—their intimate weekend drawing to a close—Stacey sat at the kitchen table dressed in Cord’s shirt, sketching him again, while he fixed bacon and eggs.

  As she lovingly drew the long lines of his back, she said casually, “What happens now, Cord?”

  “We catch the stalker.”

  “Yes, I know that. But what happens between us?”

  He gripped the spatula with a force that would bend steel. Turning to face her, his hair rakishly disheveled, jeans riding low on his hips, there was a sadness in his face that tore at her heart. “We have to talk.”

  “Yes. Let’s talk about the future.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “We have no future. After we catch the stalker, I’m out of your life.”

  She wanted to scream, to shake him. Instead she forced herself to say calmly, “Do you think I’m going to let you go that easily?”

  He made his way across the tile and crouched in front of her. “Stace, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You’re young and beautiful and you’ll make someone a wonderful partner someday. But it won’t be me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’ve done things in my past that would taint you.”

  “I don’t care what you’ve done. You were a policeman and you had to do things to protect others, to survive. Like a soldier in war. Those things make you a hero, not a monster.”

  “I’m no hero, Stacey.”

  “You’re no monster, either. I love you.”

  “I love you, too. God forgive me.”

  “But you’ll let me go.”

  “Yes.”

  Anger flared, quick and potent. “Can you really live your life knowing I’ll be doing the things we did together this weekend with another man?”

  He white-knuckled the edge of her chair. “That’s a low blow.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll fight as dirty as I have to to keep you.”

  “If I thought there was any chance, sweetheart, I’d take it. But there’s none.”

  “Don’t you think I’d be a good mother to Meggie?”

  He thought about it too long.

  “And don’t lie this time, like you did when you said I wasn’t your type.”

  The bleakest eyes she’d ever seen stared out at her. “You’d be a wonderful mother to Meggie.”

  She smiled weakly. “Thank you for that.”

  He reached up and pulled her down so his forehead could meet hers. “Just do me one favor. No matter what happens, promise me you’ll always believe I love you.”

  She held him tightly. “I promise.”

  A gasp came from the doorway. Both Stacey and Cord looked up. Gifford Webb stood in the entrance like an avenging angel. His eyes bored into them, filled with surprise, anger and a look of betrayal. The first two emotions Stacey understood, but not the last.

  * * *

  DÉJA VU, SO intense, swept through Gifford as he watched his daughter in the arms of the man who had almost ruined their lives. Stunned, he grasped the doorframe, unable to comment.

  McKay moved first; he rose and stepped back from Stacey. Gifford saw she was dressed in McKay’s shirt. His eyes flew from his daughter to McKay, who stepped in front of her to shield her from Gifford. The action betrayed their guilt, but also Cord McKay’s spontaneous reaction to protect Stacey. Gifford wanted to wail at the irony of it.

  Misinterpreting the charged atmosphere, Stacey stood and sidled up next to McKay. “Daddy, we didn’t expect you until tonight.”

  “
So I gather. I took an earlier flight.”

  “Oh.”

  “Stacey, I want to talk to McKay alone.”

  Fire darted from her brown eyes, so like his own. But apparently, she was more like her mother than he could have ever predicted. “Absolutely not. I refuse to be treated like a child in this.”

  “It’s okay, Stace. I think it’s for the best,” McKay said.

  “No.” She ran a shaky hand through her hair. “Look, Dad, I know this is a shock, but I’m twenty-four years old. What did you expect, that I’d live like a nun?”

  McKay shot her a look that Gifford didn’t understand.

  “It’s not that, honey.”

  “I know it must be hard to be faced with the fact that your daughter’s a sexual being, but—”

  “It’s not that at all.”

  Cord said, “It’s a problem for your father because I’m supposed to be protecting you, not...” He shifted uncomfortably.

  “Making love to me. We might as well call it what it is.” Stacey’s exasperation laced every word.

  “And this is inappropriate behavior for a bodyguard,” Cord finished.

  “Who’s being paid by me.”

  “Dad, you make this sound so seedy.”

  If you only knew, Gifford thought.

  With her characteristic stubbornness, Stacey raised her chin. “It’s not seedy. It’s beautiful and wonderful and I love him.”

  No, oh please, God, no.

  Just then, the phone rang. Gifford welcomed the interruption to collect himself. Stacey walked to it, barely decent in the long shirt that skimmed her thighs. “Hello. Oh, Lauren.”

  McKay swung his head around. “You need to talk to her.”

  Stacey glanced from him to Gifford. “All right. I’ll take it in the den. Hang up for me.”

  Unwilling to let McKay do that domestic task, Gifford crossed to the phone, watched Stacey leave, then both he and McKay waited until Stacey picked it up in the other room.

  When he hung up, silence descended on them like a death knell. Gifford wanted to smash everything in sight. “The last time I found you here, I went into a rage. When I got rid of you, I told Helene to get out.”

  McKay’s jaw hardened. “I figured it was something like that.”