Guardian Groom

by Shelley Cooper

  Kate could see Mrs. Edmund and Clara Mae listening closely while they watched the verbal interplay. The game was totally forgotten as their heads shifted back and forth between her and Steve like spectators at a tennis match. It was obvious they’d picked up on the undercurrents in the conversation. They might not understand where the flow was going to take them, but they were clearly fascinated by the interchange and planned on sticking around for the ride. Kate was too wound up to care.

  “There’s no need. I think my reason for ending the relationship was as valid as any of those you listed.”

  “What if he had a reason for always walking away?” Steve asked.

  “Like what?” she challenged. “What could possibly make him walk away, other than that he just didn’t care?”

  Adrenaline raced through her veins. This was it. After what seemed like forever, the moment she’d been waiting for had finally arrived. She could feel it in her bones, taste it on the air. She’d finally goaded him past the point of no return, and he was going to give her the explanation she’d longed for. The explanation she deserved.

  Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again. A minute later, he shrugged. Seeming to remember that they weren’t alone, he smiled at the older women. “How should I know? I was just making a point.”

  It was all Kate could do to keep her shoulders from slumping. She should have known better. If the past had taught her anything, it was that Steve was a man who kept his own counsel at all costs. Especially when they had an audience. Well, she wasn’t quite ready to end the conversation just yet.

  “For the sake of argument,” she said, “let’s say you’re right. Let’s say he had a reason for walking away. Why didn’t he ever tell me what that reason was? Maybe if he had, I wouldn’t have felt so frustrated. I wouldn’t have felt so alone.”

  His voice lowered and he looked away. “Maybe he wanted to, but couldn’t.”

  “Why not?” she pressed.

  His head came up. “Some people just aren’t... approachable.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You have to admit, Kate, that you take your independence seriously. You don’t like letting people do for you. You don’t like needing anyone. Maybe he didn’t confide in you because he didn’t want to feel weak next to you.”

  Of all the explanations he could have offered, this was one she’d never expected. Kate felt stunned. Was he telling her the truth? Had she made him feel weak? Gazing at him now, so big, strong and remote, it was impossible to believe.

  “Steve has a point,” Mrs. Edmund said. “This isn’t meant as a criticism, dear, but you are the most self-sufficient woman I’ve ever met. It would take a special man not to be intimidated by your strength.”

  Kate barely heard the woman. She was too busy staring at Steve.

  “What are you saying? That if I had been soft and weak and clingy all the time, he would have been able to confide in me?”

  Steve rubbed a hand around the back of his neck, and she could see the frustration in his eyes. “No, Kate. I’m sure your independence was part of what drew him to you. I was just offering a hypothetical explanation for his silence.”

  He glanced at Mrs. Edmund and Clara Mae, and Kate knew he was searching for the words that would defuse the situation. “You know how we men stick together. Anyway, it doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over.”

  “Nothing’s really over unless you want it to be,” Mrs. Edmund offered.

  “Fiddlesticks,” Clara Mae said. “Sometimes things are broken beyond the point of repair. Remember, all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put Humpty-Dumpty together again.”

  Good point, Kate thought. And her relationship with Steve was far more scrambled than poor Humpty had been. It would take a miracle to put it back together again.

  “You are such a pessimist, Clara Mae,” Mrs. Edmund groused. “Well, I’m an optimist. And I’m of the opinion that joy is always there for the taking. Kate’s an optimist, too. Aren’t you, dear?”

  “To tell you the truth, Mrs. Edmund, I haven’t been feeling very optimistic lately.”

  “That’s just temporary.” Mrs. Edmund waved her hand. “Hormones. Trust me, you’re an optimist. If you and your young man really wanted to, you could fix that relationship. The question is, do you want to fix it? Personally, if I had someone like Steve waiting in the wings, I wouldn’t even consider it.”

  Clara Mae shook her head vehemently. “You couldn’t be more wrong, Janet. Not about Steve here—I agree with you on that—but about Kate and her relationship. And about me. I’m not a pessimist. Never have been, never will be. What I am is a realist. As Mark Twain once said, ‘We are all like the moon in that we all have our dark side that we never show to anybody.’ The difference between an optimist and a realist is that a realist knows all about that dark side, while an optimist foolishly doesn’t believe it exists.”

  Mrs. Edmund sat quietly for a moment before saying, “That’s the biggest load of poppycock I’ve ever heard.”

  “Which just proves my point,” Clara Mae retorted. She looked at Steve. “What about you, young man?”

  “What about me?”

  “Which camp do you fall in? Optimist, pessimist or realist?”

  “I’m a realist from way back.”

  “So you’ve seen the dark side, too.”

  His jaw tightened and his expression turned inward. Kate knew he was thinking about his father and everything he and his mother had suffered at the man’s brutal hands. “Too many times to count.”

  “I thought so.” Clara Mae’s tone was reflective. “Beneath all that charm, you have that look about you. The one that says you’ve been to hell and back, and lived to tell the tale. I daresay you’ve got a dark side yourself.”

  Steve turned his gaze on Kate. His eyes were cloudy and tempestuous as he welded her to her seat with a look that seared into her very soul. She got the distinct feeling he was trying to issue her some kind of warning.

  “I daresay I do,” he said.

  For a moment or two she wondered what he meant, then pushed the thought aside. She had other, more pressing matters to occupy her mind. Of utmost importance was the way this conversation had gotten entirely out of hand. The evening that was supposed to be relaxing and diverting had turned out to be anything but.

  “We were discussing Kate’s relationship here,” Mrs. Edmund reminded. “Not people’s dark sides.”

  Kate drew a deep, shuddering breath. It was time to regain control over the situation. “Steve’s right. The relationship’s over. It won’t accomplish anything to discuss it further.”

  “Then let’s not,” Clara Mae said.

  “Fine with me,” Mrs. Edmund agreed.

  Though what Kate really felt like doing was throwing herself on her bed, pulling her pillow over her head and crying her eyes out—for what she wasn’t exactly sure—she pushed her hair back off her face and smiled shakily at the three people assembled around the table. “Popcorn, anyone?”

  Chapter 10

  They were in the middle of the second game, Clara Mae having handily won the first, when Mrs. Edmund leaned toward Steve and asked, “So, young man, what is it that you do for a living?”

  Kate tensed. Her fingers clenched around the tile she’d just drawn, and her gaze flew across the table. She relaxed slightly when the reproving look in his eyes told her he remembered their pact and that he’d be careful in the way he answered Mrs. Edmund’s question. He wouldn’t reveal anything that could possibly alarm the older woman. At least, not deliberately.

  “I’m the owner of a company that specializes in protection services for both corporations and individuals,” he said.

  The way in which he worded his reply had Kate suppressing a smile. She knew he was trying to make his work sound so boring that Mrs. Edmund would eagerly drop the subject. Unfortunately, he didn’t know the woman like Kate did. Mrs. Edmund approached new things with the openness of an infant discove
ring its world. When she had learned that Kate was a newspaper columnist, she’d spent the better part of an hour quizzing Kate on all aspects of that work. Steve’s description of his job would only serve to whet Mrs. Edmund’s appetite for knowledge. There would, Kate knew, be more questions. Lots of them.

  As Kate had predicted, the minute the woman finished her turn, she aimed eyes bright with interest toward Steve. “Protection services? Do you mean security guards?”

  Steve nodded. “Training and supplying security guards accounts for approximately seventy-five percent of our work.”

  “I have a nephew who once worked as a security guard at a toy factory,” Clara Mae offered as she laid down her tiles. “Said it was the most boring job he’d ever had, and that it was all he could do to stay awake. He quit after two weeks to take a job as a presser at a dry cleaner’s. Been there ten years now. Never happier.”

  “Clara Mae, that’s not very polite,” Mrs. Edmund admonished. “You’ll offend our guest.”

  Steve smiled. “I’m not at all offended. I’m well aware that the job can seem rather...tedious at times. It’s not for everyone. Which is why we look for employees who understand the importance of the service they’re providing, and who aren’t easily bored.”

  “You said seventy-five percent of your work was supplying security guards,” Mrs. Edmund commented. “What’s the other twenty-five percent?”

  Kate shot him a warning look. In return, he gave her a benign smile that set her teeth on edge. It was a smile she’d seen on her brothers’ faces countless times. Loosely translated, it meant that Steve was feeling supremely confident in his ability to control the situation, and she shouldn’t bother her pretty little head worrying about it. Inevitably, after one of her brothers flashed her that same superior smile, all hell would break loose. Kate prayed it wasn’t about to break loose here and now.

  “We provide personal protection services for those individuals who require it,” Steve said.

  Clara Mae perked up. “You’re a bodyguard?”

  “I’ve acted in that capacity once or twice.” The smile was still on his face, but his tone had grown cautious.

  “Now that sounds a lot more interesting than being a security guard,” Clara Mae said.

  “It has its moments,” Steve allowed.

  When his gaze met Kate’s, she saw the irony in his eyes, and the repressed laughter. Despite her best intentions, she found herself drawn to him like a mouse to the cheese in a baited trap. That very same look was what had so disarmed her the day she’d met him. Because of that look, she’d surrendered her virginity to him not long after. And, because of that look, she’d fallen head over heels in love with him and married him.

  How many times had she wished that the first thing he’d aimed her way would have been that smug, superior, I-can-handle-things smile that never failed to nudge her temper up a notch. If he had, she never would have fallen for him. At least she thought not, since the theory had never been put to the test. It really didn’t matter at this point. Back then, she hadn’t been able to resist his appeal. If she didn’t find a way to resist it now, the trap would once again slam closed. She would be lost. And it would be her undoing.

  Though she tried with all her might, she couldn’t look away. Her heart steadfastly ignored the frantic messages her brain repeatedly telegraphed, demanding that she get control of herself. Time seemed to stand still as the laughter in his eyes was replaced by a new, far different, far more elemental emotion.

  Kate’s heart thudded frantically, and her mouth went dry. Desire swept through her with the force of a flash fire, devastating her emotions and leaving her weak and trembling. The tile that she’d been clutching since Mrs. Edmund’s unexpected question slipped from her fingers and tumbled to the floor.

  “You dropped your tile,” he murmured in a husky voice.

  Cheeks reddening, Kate managed to tear her gaze away. Bending over in her seat, she combed unsteady fingers through the carpet, searching for the fallen tile.

  “How fascinating,” Mrs. Edmund commented, and for a heart-stopping moment Kate thought the woman was referring to her silent exchange with Steve. Mrs. Edmund’s next question put her mind at rest, at least in that regard. “Have you ever guarded someone famous?”

  To Kate’s relief, when she righted herself in her chair, Steve was concentrating on his tiles. Self-reproach left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was too old and experienced in the ways of men—one man, anyway—to ever again allow herself to be seduced by a mere look. How could she have been so weak? The solution was simple. She needed to end this enforced nunhood of hers, to get out more. Once her biggest fan was safely out of the way, she was determined to do exactly that. And she was going to forget that there ever existed a man who could obliterate any resistance on her part with a mere look.

  “Normally,” Steve said, “I work the administrative end of the business. My firm, however, has handled security for a number of well-known entertainers when they’ve performed in Pittsburgh.”

  He smiled when Mrs. Edmund and Clara Mae oohed and aahed their delight at such a close brush with celebrity. Kate let her guard down for the first time in what seemed hours. This was the way she’d wanted the evening to go: a lot of chatter to pass the time, without that chatter becoming too personal. No suggestive words on the playing board. No meaningful glances across the table. She’d even grown, if not exactly used to the feel of Steve’s knees against hers, resigned to their constant pressure. She could go for minutes at a time without noticing their warmth.

  “Kate had some alterations done on her house earlier this week,” Mrs. Edmund said. “New locks, outside lights and such. Did your company do the work?”

  So much for letting her guard down, Kate thought, as alarm bells went off in her head. She didn’t want the discussion to go anywhere near the work she’d had done on the house, because it could potentially lead to the reason for it.

  Steve shook his head. “The bulk of the work was contracted out. My company just oversaw the job.”

  “I was thinking of having some similar work done on my house. As soon as possible, really. Could you oversee it for me?”

  The bells in Kate’s head started clanging. Before she could think of something to say to steer the conversation onto a safer topic, Steve said, “Certainly. Is there a reason you feel it needs to be done so soon?”

  Mrs. Edmund looked embarrassed. “I just haven’t felt as safe lately.”

  “You haven’t?”

  “No. A couple of rather odd things have occurred over the past few weeks. They’ve got me thinking it might be time to take a few extra precautions.”

  Steve’s eyes narrowed. “What odd happenings?” he asked sharply.

  The look on his face told Kate that he thought whatever it was that Mrs. Edmund had seen, it had something to do with her biggest fan. For a brief moment, she squeezed her eyes shut. She could feel it coming. Disaster. Like a runaway freight train, it was barreling their way.

  She shot him a warning glance, shoved her knee against his and mouthed, “No!” He paid her no heed, his attention centered squarely on the elderly woman.

  “Nothing in particular, just several things that all added up in my mind,” Mrs. Edmund said. “Now that I think about it, I feel rather silly.”

  “Please,” Steve urged. “I’d like to hear. What was it you saw that bothered you? After all, this is my business. I can tell you if you have anything to be worried about.”

  Mrs. Edmund shrugged. “Very well, if you insist. Three weeks ago, a man started jogging by my house. I noticed him because he always had on the same black spandex shorts and muscle shirt. He also wore a headset, like he was listening to the radio.”

  “How often did this happen?” Steve asked.

  “Every day for almost two weeks. He’d go by the house four or five times. I haven’t seen him at all this week.”

  “Was it always the same time of day?”

  Mrs. Edmund nodded. �
��Early evening, right after dinner.”

  “Sounds like a jogger to me,” Clara Mae commented. “Nothing unusual in that. This time of year, most sensible runners are out in the early morning or evening hours to avoid the heat of the day. From what I’ve heard, they also tend to follow the same route for a while, especially if they find it a challenging one.”

  Mrs. Edmund tossed her friend a patient look. “Then why haven’t I seen him at all this week?”

  “Simple,” Clara Mae responded. “He got tired of running past your house, and went in search of a change of scenery. Give him a couple of weeks. He’ll be back.”

  “Was there something about him that made you suspicious of him?” Steve asked.

  “It was the way he looked around him when he passed by,” Mrs. Edmund replied. “If he was seriously into his exercise, he wouldn’t have had the time to take in the little details. But this man seemed to be constantly looking around him, like he was trying to memorize everything he saw. And he stared really hard at the houses on this block. It made me uneasy. I’m probably being paranoid, but I think he was casing the neighborhood.”

  “Take it from me,” Clara Mae said, “you’re being paranoid.

  “Maybe I am. Still, there’s one thing I don’t understand, one thing that doesn’t fit.”

  “What’s that?” Steve asked.

  “He wasn’t sweating. Not a drop.” Mrs. Edmund shot Clara Mae a look of triumph. “How many joggers do you know who can run for an hour straight in eighty-degree weather without breaking a sweat?”

  “Maybe he’s one of those people who don’t sweat very much,” Clara Mae defended. “They do exist, you know.”

  Mrs. Edmund turned to Steve. “My theory is that he was only jogging on our block when he could be seen by one of us. The rest of the time, he was walking, probably plotting how he was going to break in.”

  “Was there anything else?” Steve asked.

  “Yes. The last time he passed by, I happened to be out taking my daily constitutional. Two blocks down, he got into a car. There was another man in the driver’s seat The jogger said a couple of words, and they drove off. It just didn’t settle well with me.”