by Weaver, Lisa
“You haven’t seen anything yet. How about less talk, more action, Mr. Dimitriou?”
Cupping the back of her head, he melded his mouth to hers in an evocative kiss that clearly could only end one way. His tongue dueled with hers until she squirmed with impatient desperation, seeking more. Only then did he give his hands free rein, allowing them to slip between her thighs.
He growled when he found her hot and wet for him. Pausing for only a second to don protection, he pressed her up against the stone seawall. Control shattered, he sank into her in one hard, hungry thrust.
Lauren met him eagerly, matching him stroke for stroke and encouraging him to a harder, faster pace until they crested together.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered afterwards. “I lost my head. I didn’t mean to take you like an animal.”
“Don’t you dare apologize. That was amazing.”
“You’re the one who is amazing. How about letting me express my appreciation again? This time with a bit more finesse.”
Lauren touched a finger to her chin, pretending to ponder his suggestion. “If you insist.”
“Oh, I most certainly do. Let’s take this inside, shall we?”
Scooping her up in his arms, he carried her up the path to the main house. Back in their suite, he wasted no time divesting her of her gown.
“Slow and easy this time,” he promised. And he delivered on his vow.
When Lauren awoke, hours later, she realized she’d been drawn from sleep by a noise that was distinctly out of place. Ears straining in the darkness, she tried to pinpoint the sound that had woken her. That’s when she noticed the lights on the estate grounds were out.
A wind storm had moved in, so the power outage was most likely related to the heavy gusts. Her instincts, though, were screaming that something wasn’t right. The Fullertons had a generator. The fact that it hadn’t kicked in was worrisome. Had someone disabled it?
A flash of lightning lit the room, and she heard the noise again, a scratching that was audible over the tumult of the storm. A shiver of apprehension raced down her spine. It was the sound of rope rubbing against metal. Could someone be scaling the balcony?
She slid quietly from the bed, relieved when Rafe didn’t stir. Reaching into the nightstand, she retrieved her gun. If the estate had been breached, Malcolm and his team would undoubtedly be on top of the situation. Still, she wasn’t about to wait around while the intruder fixed his sights on Rafe. She needed to be certain the perimeter was secure.
Rafe still slept peacefully, oblivious to the noise that had woken her. The solid weight of the pistol in her hand was reassuring. Heading to the balcony door, she opened it and stepped out into the storm. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she scanned the area for any potential threat. She was peering over the balcony railing into the inky darkness below when someone grabbed her from behind, trapping her arms at her sides.
Struggling, she tried to free her gun hand.
“Stop that,” a familiar voice hissed in her ear. Relief washed over her. Rafe.
“What are you doing out here?” she demanded when he released his hold, her heart pounding furiously as adrenaline coursed through her veins.
“Since you’re the one standing out here in the middle of a raging storm, I should be asking you that question. What on earth possessed you to go outside on a night like this?”
“I heard a noise.”
“And you didn’t wake me? You just decided to play Nancy Drew and investigate it by yourself? And what’s with the gun?”
She stood staring at him, scrambling for a way to explain. He tossed his head impatiently, taking her arm and leading her towards the door. “Never mind. You can explain inside.” He pointed to a swaying tree that was weakening under the brutal battering of the raging winds. Another groan rent the air. “It isn’t safe out here. Come on.”
“But . . .” she protested, catching a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye.
“Now,” he urged, taking her hand and pulling her in front of him to shield her. They’d barely made it inside when they heard the unmistakable sound of the tree giving way under the wind’s assault. It fell, clearing the balcony by mere inches before hitting the ground below with a thunderous crash.
“It just missed the balcony,” Lauren breathed.
Rafe wrapped his arms possessively around her waist, and she let herself lean against him, absorbing his solid strength. He grabbed her robe and draped it over her. “Here. You’re shivering.”
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “Thanks to you.”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Yes you did. That tree was massive. If it had fallen while I was out there, I could have been killed.”
A knock sounded on the door, and Malcolm called out from behind the oaken barrier. “Is everything okay in there?”
Rafe pulled on his robe and opened the door, ushering the butler in. “We’re fine, thanks. A tree went down. I don’t think it did any damage to the house, but it was close.”
“I’m glad you’re both okay. When we lost power, our backup generator didn’t kick in like it’s supposed to. Maintenance is working on it now, and we should have power restored shortly. In the meantime I’ve brought flashlights for you.”
“Thank you,” Lauren replied, taking the light he offered. She could tell from his expression her fears of a breech weren’t misplaced.
“I’d like to check the balcony for damage, if you don’t mind,” Malcolm said. “Mr. Dimitriou, could I ask you to do me a favor and take the rest of these flashlights to the other guests on this level while I make sure everything is secure?”
“Of course.”
When Rafe left the room, Lauren turned to Malcolm. “I know you must have the situation locked down or you wouldn’t send Rafe off alone. But the storm is the least of our worries, isn’t it?”
He nodded in confirmation, taking her arm and leading her to the sofa. “We’ve diffused the situation,” he assured her, taking a seat beside her. “The intruder won’t be back tonight, I’m sure. He knows we’re on to him.”
“How did he manage to breech the estate? I’ve seen your setup. It’s state of the art.”
“The guy isn’t an amateur. My staff is top-notch, so I’m not being pompous when I say that taking down the estate’s security system and disabling the generator right under my team’s noses was no easy feat. Fortunately the intruder wasn’t aware our security system has a backup. We have a couple of additional cameras that scan the grounds in the event of a systems failure.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
“My men spotted him as he was making an attempt on your balcony, but he escaped when we tried to apprehend him. He had a getaway car waiting. The license plates were blacked out, so no leads there, but we’re running the photos we pulled from the security camera footage against our database to see if we can come up with a match to any known criminals. They’re pretty fuzzy images. I’m not sure anything will come of it.”
“It’s something at least.”
“I’ve stepped up patrols, and we’ll also have the main security system back online shortly.”
“Thank you. You and your team did a great job tonight.”
“I would have preferred it if the intruder hadn’t escaped.”
“You lost a minor battle, not the war.”
He nodded. “I’d better go check the balcony like I told your husband I was going to.”
Moments later Rafe returned from delivering the flashlights. “The storm is letting up,” he reported.
“There was no damage from the falling tree,” Malcolm relayed, stepping in from the balcony. “I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”
“Are you doing okay?” Rafe asked, after seeing Malcolm out.
“I’m fine.”
They returned to bed, and he drew her into his arms. “So what’s with the gun?” he queried.
She’d hoped he’d forgotten. She hated having to feed him half-
truths. “I guess you could say it’s like a security blanket of sorts. Or maybe, more aptly, a life vest.”
“A life vest?”
Lauren nodded. “Usually Luke was around to step in when my father was in one of his drunken rages, but there was this one time . . .” she trailed off, torn. She didn’t want to resurrect the horror of that night by talking about it, but she needed to give Rafe a valid reason for why she was armed. With a sigh, she continued. “My father beat me up pretty badly, so Luke decided to make sure I would be prepared if he ever tried to hurt me again. He taught me Tae kwon do, and he taught me how to handle a gun.”
“Did you ever have to use it? The gun, I mean.”
Lauren shook her head. “And to be honest, that’s a good thing, because I’m not sure I could have if I’d needed to. If the attacker was a stranger intent on taking my life, yes, but my own father?”
“But you kept the gun.”
“It made me feel safe. I’ve carried it ever since. Do guns bother you?”
“No. I don’t have a problem with them. Why do you ask?”
Lauren shrugged, feigning indifference. She had to tread carefully here. She wasn’t supposed to know he’d turned down his father’s offer of protection. “I read somewhere you don’t employ a bodyguard like most men of your stature would. I was just curious if an aversion to firearms played a part in that decision.”
After an interminable pause, she felt him sigh in the darkness. “My best friend was a member of my father’s security detail. Brian was only twenty-seven when he lost his life protecting my father. He’d driven my father to a board meeting earlier in the day. When he picked him up, Dad suggested they grab dinner. They were in a crosswalk making their way to the restaurant when a driver ran a red light. Brian managed to push my father out of harm’s way, but he wasn’t able to avoid the car himself. The impact killed him instantly. The driver never stopped.
Brian wouldn’t have been in the wrong place at the wrong time if he hadn’t been protecting my father. He and his wife were expecting their first child. A boy. He was over the moon about the prospect of having a child, but he never got to see his son. Brian’s wife had the lifetime she’d planned to share with him stolen from her, and their son will never know his dad. Brian sacrificed his life for my father. I refuse to put anyone in the position of making that kind of sacrifice for me.”
Chapter Twelve
Dressing for the gala, Lauren’s thoughts strayed back to the events of last night. She was Rafe’s bodyguard—albeit a covert one—yet he’d completely juxtaposed their roles to become her protector. He’d made her feel safe. Physically safe, at least. Emotionally he’d placed her in grave jeopardy. She was in danger of losing her heart to him again.
Shaking her head, she shimmied into the DeChamps gown he’d purchased for tonight’s grand event. Who was she kidding? It was already too late. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest at the realization that while she’d been busy guarding him, she’d forgotten to shield her heart.
Rafe sauntered into the room, toe-curlingly sexy in the formal tux he wore. “You look utterly gorgeous,” he pronounced, stepping up behind her to fasten a gold pendant around her neck.
“You look quite amazing yourself. But what’s this?”
He showered soft kisses at the nape of her neck, sending a shiver of pleasure dancing down her spine. “It’s a pre-celebratory gift. Chuck asked me to meet him for a drink in his study before dinner. I have a good feeling about this. I think I may have secured the deal.”
Lauren suspected he was right. Rafe was the most qualified bidder, possessing the integrity to preserve the values that had made Gracious Living great and the ingenuity and inventiveness to take it into the next half-century. And though she didn’t condone the methods he’d employed to achieve his goal, she understood the circumstances that had driven him to resort to those tactics. He was an honorable man who’d made a tough choice for what he believed to be the greater good. It was far better than the alternative of Milton Payne getting his grubby hands on the publication and bleeding it dry.
She picked up the heart-shaped pendant for a closer look at the elaborate scroll work. The centerpiece of the design was a glorious stallion in full gallop.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, touched by his thoughtfulness. “But you shouldn’t have. I didn’t do anything special. I was just holding up my end of the deal.”
“You deserve far more. But the real gift is inside. Open it.”
She released the clasp and opened the locket to reveal a photo of a beautiful black stallion.
“Dakota is Dimitriou Stables’ most outstanding three-year-old. He has a sweet disposition, and he’s already an excellent riding horse. He’ll be arriving at my country house in New York in time for our return. He’s yours.”
Lauren simply gaped at him for a moment, tongue tied, before recovering her voice. “I don’t know what to say. I can’t accept such a generous gift.”
“You have to. I insist.”
She hugged him fiercely, brushing away a tear, not only affected by his incredible generosity but touched beyond measure by the fact that he’d chosen such a personal token of his gratitude. He could have gifted her with something cold and meaningless, but instead he’d given her something warm and full of life. The gesture spoke volumes, giving her hope that he cared about her.
“Thank you. I’ll treasure him. I can’t wait to show his photo to Stefanie. Did I mention she’ll be at the celebration tonight? Grace gave all the ladies a pair of tickets to share with friends, so I invited Stef. She’s bringing Frank, one of the men who helped with the fashion show.”
“That’s wonderful. I hate to run off, but I have to meet with Chuck. I’ll be back soon to collect you for the gala.”
Lauren took advantage of the time alone to strap a thin leather holster around her thigh, slipping her compact handgun into its resting place. It would be effectively concealed under her gown but easily accessible if she should need it. She hoped she wouldn’t.
She was doing a last-minute check of her hair and makeup when Rafe returned to their suite. The grin on his face told her the meeting had gone as well as he’d hoped.
“Oh Rafe, you got it!”
He caught her up in his arms and spun her around. “Yes,” he beamed. “We just signed the contract, and Fullerton is breaking the news to the other bidders now. He’ll make a formal announcement tonight at the anniversary celebration.”
Lauren’s face lit up in delight. “Congratulations. I’m so happy for you!”
He kissed her long and hard and hungrily before reluctantly breaking away. “I can think of a dozen ways I’d like to celebrate privately with you, but unfortunately they’ll all have to wait until later. The gala is about to begin.”
The night was tailor-made for a celebration. The air was calm and balmy, with masses of stars lighting the sky. A huge tent had been set up by the gardens, and a multitude of lights had been strung all around the surrounding area, transforming the grounds into an ethereal wonderland.
The gala featured a country-and-western theme, with an elegant take on Southern-style barbeque. The tantalizing aroma of grilled steak, ribs, and pulled pork filled the air. Tables lined the perimeter of the tent, and a marvelous buffet dominated the center.
After dinner, their host and hostess made the rounds of the tables. When Chuck and Grace stopped to chat with them, Chuck patted Rafe on the shoulder fondly. “I’d like to meet with you before I make the announcement. If your lovely wife doesn’t mind, may I steal you for a few moments? We can adjourn to my study.”
“Of course.”
A shiver of unease ran up and down Lauren’s spine as she watched Rafe and Chuck walk away. She always trusted her gut instincts, and right now her gut was telegraphing that there was trouble in the air. Grace had moved on to visit with the other guests, so she decided to check the grounds to confirm everything was secure.
Scanning the crowd, she couldn’t shake the
feeling that something was off. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled when a waiter set his tray down and headed off in the same direction Rafe and Chuck had taken. Her inner alarm bells blared as she noticed the man was wearing sneakers, not black loafers like the rest of the waitstaff.
She sought out her fellow agents, thankful that Frank and Stephanie were milling amongst the guests to provide backup if need be. She spotted Frank first, catching his eye across the room. He nodded, letting her know he’d noticed the inconsistency as well. The need to move on the intruder before he got to Rafe was paramount. Doing so without causing a scene would require a bit of ingenuity.
With an exchange of eye contact and a few subtle hand signals, she and Frank put a plan into play.
Lauren stepped into the waiter’s path, effecting an accidental collision with their target. Red wine splashed all over the man’s pristine white uniform. “Oh no!” she cried out in a believable display of absolute mortification. “I’m so sorry.” She grabbed Frank’s arm as he passed by. “Excuse me, sir. Do you have a handkerchief I could borrow?”
“Of course.”
Fumbling with the square of silk Frank handed her, she blotted at the spilled wine on the waiter’s shirt.
“Don’t worry about it,” the frustrated pseudo-waiter bit out, impatience blazing in his eyes as he shrugged off her efforts. “It’s not a problem.”
“Oh, I think it’s very much a problem,” Frank intoned dangerously, swiftly divesting the man of the weapon concealed under the jacket of his wait uniform. Clasping what appeared to be a friendly arm around the man’s shoulders, Frank bent to whisper in his ear. “We’re going for a little stroll. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself or I’ll be forced to make things much harder than they have to be.”
“I’d do as he says if I were you,” Lauren advised. “You really don’t want to make him angry.”
To her consternation, Malcolm approached as Frank led the man away.