Her Billionaire Bodyguard Bridegroom

by Lisa Weaver

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2015

  A Kindle Scout selection

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, Kindle Scout, and Kindle Press are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Thank You!

  Also In the Secret Sentinels Series…

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Brianna Atwood was being seduced. Given how appallingly wrong things had gone the last time she’d allowed herself to be this beguiled, she knew she should be running in the opposite direction.

  Her snake charmer of a fiancé had proven to be a master manipulator and a conniving cheat. In the aftermath of his betrayal, she’d vowed never to get that wrapped up in a man again. But never was a very long time.

  The focus of her current infatuation winked at her through a gap in the dense woodland foliage, and her hesitation vaporized. Confident the seduction scenario currently playing out would end markedly better than the last, she sought a better vantage point from which to admire the handsome lake she’d discovered while mountain biking this peaceful Maine forest. Inanimate objects—unlike greed-fueled playboys with hidden agendas—didn’t chew hearts up and spit them out.

  Spotting a narrower path that veered off the main trail toward the lake, she rode closer to investigate. A weathered No Trespassing sign tacked to a nearby tree marked the route as off limits. The good girl in her insisted she abide by the sign’s direction.

  But what had being a good girl gotten her?

  She really wanted to ignore the taunting of her inner just-a-little-bit-bad girl. She didn’t need to be reminded that she’d had her heart stomped on twice when she’d played by the rules. First by Peter, and then—when she was still reeling from the sucker punch of his deception—by her mother, who’d landed the knockout blow. Unlike them, she knew there were some lines you should never cross. But she yearned to break free from the endless restrictions that had prevented her from living life to the fullest for all of her twenty-three years.

  And wasn’t escaping responsibility, even for only a short while, what this vacation was all about? Besides, it wasn’t like she was planning a night of reckless abandon with a total stranger. As walks on the wild side go, trespassing was pretty tame.

  Decision made, she started down the path.

  The meandering route came to an end on a cliff overlooking the lake. Sunlight danced on the mirror-smooth surface, setting it aglow in a breathtaking display of vibrant gold on blue. After propping her bike against a nearby tree, she made her way down to the water’s edge. She took her helmet off, setting her dark hair tumbling free in a riot of curls.

  The water beckoned, cool and inviting, making her wish she’d worn a swimsuit under her cycling clothes. Then again, maybe she didn’t need one. The woods were isolated, and she hadn’t seen a soul all morning. She might never have a better opportunity to check skinny-dipping off her decadent-things-to-do list.

  “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this,” she murmured. “The humidity must be melting my brain cells.”

  Ultimately, the idea proved too compelling to resist. Road-blocking any second thoughts, she peeled off her bike jersey and shorts. The top’s design hadn’t necessitated a bra, but she’d worn a thong under her cycling bottoms. Stripping down to that piece of lingerie, she decided, was daring enough for her first time out. A second later she leaped, plunging headfirst into temptation.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  I must be losing my mind, but what a way to go!

  Luke Reynolds brought his morning jog to an abrupt halt, trying to make sense of the apparition before him. There was a mermaid in his lake.

  Every drop of testosterone in his body stood up and took notice as he soaked in her perfection, millimeter by millimeter. Damn if she wasn’t every man’s fantasy sprung to life.

  Fantasy being the key word. Obviously he’d set too brutal a pace for this morning’s five-mile workout. He’d heard of runners hallucinating when they hit the wall, but he’d never experienced it himself, until now. If this was the end result of sprinting like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels, he’d have to do it more often.

  The water nymph swam into his field of vision again, and his gut clenched in reaction. Desire pulsed through him as he watched her stroke lazily across the water, her dark hair flowing behind her in a stream of ebony silk. For one blissful moment her beauty almost made him forget the reason he’d been running so furiously.

  Almost.

  He’d been racing like the hounds of hell were nipping at his heels because they were. He’d taken this vacation to try and outdistance them, but it wasn’t working.

  He was a covert bodyguard. He prided himself on being the best in his field. But he’d failed to protect Tanya. Months later, her senseless death still haunted him.

  The fantasy before him was a welcome—albeit temporary—distraction from the guilt of his irreversible mistake. He moved closer, sucking in a swift breath at the view his new vantage point afforded. That take-no-prisoners body ended in a pair of long, shapely legs. The beauty in his lake wasn’t a hallucination. She was flesh and blood—and all woman.

  He swallowed, his heart rate skipping a beat before promptly shifting into overdrive. Raking his fingers through his hair, he forced himself to reign in his stampeding libido. He’d been running to forget one woman. The last thing he needed to do was to invite another into his life.

  Or was it?

  He paused as the thought teased him. Tempted him. Maybe he’d been going about things all wrong. What if his self-imposed estrogen ban was the crux of the problem? Perhaps a vacation fling was the key to successfully slaying his demons.

  But first things first. He didn’t know who this woman was or what she was doing on his property—but he intended to find out.

  ∞∞∞∞∞∞∞

  Serenaded by a chorus of crickets, Brianna reveled in the caress of the water against her bare skin and the heady rush of this rare taste of freedom.

  When her boss had first suggested she take a break and get away for a while, she’d been adamant she didn’t need time off. But Trevor had refused to take no for an answer, even offering her the use of his vacation home in Maine. She was immensely glad she’d finally capitulated. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to recharge.

  An out-of-place rustling in a nearby stand of trees jolted her from her musings. Her arms shot up to shield her bare breasts, and her heart stuttered in panic. Alarm quickly morphed into awe when she zeroed in on the source of the disturbance.

  She wasn’t alone any longer. A man stood at the edge of the lake. Not by any stretch of the imagination was this your ordinary, garden-variety
male. The dark-haired, green-eyed Adonis was a pulse-revving example of masculine perfection personified in an “excuse me while I wipe the drool off my chin” kind of way.

  Unable to tear her eyes off the Greek god who’d invaded her private paradise, Brianna closed them, certain she had to be hallucinating. Surely when she opened them this amazing example of the Y chromosome at its finest would be gone. He was far too perfect not to be an apparition.

  Even if Mr. Tall, Dark, and Droolworthy was made of flesh and blood, it wouldn’t matter. She’d declared men—including those who happened to be as amazingly, gut-wrenchingly perfect as this gorgeous vision her psyche had conjured up—strictly off-limits. She absolutely, positively wouldn’t want anything to do with him.

  Liar, her rule-breaking, inner wild child taunted.

  She risked another peek. Rather than vanishing, her hallucination had stripped down to a brief, black swimsuit. She was staring, but she couldn’t make her eyes obey her mental order to stand down. They were reveling in every nuance of this Michelangelo sculpture sprung to life.

  It occurred to her she should say something, on the billion-to-one chance he might be real.

  “What are you doing?” she ventured boldly.

  He flashed a lazy smile. “Joining you.”

  His response resonated with a confidence that made it clear he didn’t think he needed an invitation. His voice was as perfect as his body, a deep baritone that enveloped her like a lover’s embrace.

  Mirages didn’t talk, did they? If she wasn’t hallucinating, she had bigger problems than being caught semi-naked on private property. This stranger had her teetering on the precipice of lust, and that wouldn’t do. Belatedly, she remembered the need to voice her disapproval of his plan to crash her private swimming session.

  Between the overload of testosterone in the air and the fact that her heart was lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her tonsils, articulating a protest wasn’t an easy feat.

  “Oh no you’re not,” she managed to croak.

  “No?” he queried, cocking an eyebrow. A half smile curved his lips, revealing an amazing pair of dimples. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you trespassers don’t get to be choosy about their swimming partners?”

  Oh boy. Busted. Not only was her hallucination real, he’d also caught her encroaching on someone else’s land.

  “I’m vacationing in the area, and I wanted to get a closer view of the lake. I didn’t think anyone would mind,” she defended lamely.

  Those hypnotizing eyes tangled with hers, amusement glittering in their depths. “Ah. A tourist. Let me guess. The airline lost your luggage, leaving you sans swimsuit?”

  Mortification branded her cheeks. She shook her head, hugging her chest tighter. “I don’t have an excuse. I don’t know what possessed me to …”

  He held his hands up in a placating gesture, halting her flustered explanation. “Hey, it’s okay. You can relax. The private property your little detour brought you to is mine. You’re welcome to enjoy it.”

  “I’m so very sorry I infringed, all the same,” she hurried to apologize. “If you could give me a moment’s privacy, I’ll grab my clothes and be on my way.”

  Her request was met with a resounding splash as her mirage-made-man dove neatly into the water. He surfaced in front of her, slicking his hair back from his face.

  “No need to rush off on my account. I’m more than happy to share my lake with a beautiful mermaid.”

  As a motivational speaker, words were Brianna’s livelihood. She had never been at a loss for them. Until now. Her tongue seemed to be paralyzed. Distracted by the impossibly broad shoulders and the taut, six-pack abs currently permeating her line of vision, she somehow couldn’t pull a single cohesive sentence together.

  His musky cologne, a perfect counterpoint to the scent of the pine forest surrounding them, teased her senses. The heat radiating from his water-droplet-bejeweled body drew her closer, making her forget all about her initial desire to flee.

  Common sense dictated she didn’t belong in a secluded lake with a complete—if albeit sexier-than-sin—stranger. But when she made the mistake of looking into his eyes again, that common sense executed an abrupt U-turn. Her heart did a free fall from her tonsils to her toes, taking all of her good intentions right along with it.

  The eyes locked on hers were heated. Hungry. She’d thought she’d been melting earlier, when she’d pitted her body against the brutal terrain on her mountain bike, but that was nothing compared to the way this man’s presence ratcheted up her body temperature. Not surprising—he was hot enough to melt an Arctic ice cap.

  He extended a tanned hand. “Since we’ve established you have my permission to enjoy my lake, I think introductions are in order. I’m Luke Reynolds. And you are … ?”

  Surely it would be polite to answer him, but she hesitated all the same. She was in the middle of a secluded forest. The man certainly didn’t look like an ax murderer, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one. And as for her name … well, it had recently been splashed across every newspaper from Maine to Hawaii. As soon as she uttered it, there was little doubt he’d realize his trespasser was none other than “the Reluctant Heiress.”

  Brianna cringed every time the media bandied around the moniker they’d coined for her when the truth surrounding her paternity had leaked. She’d taken this vacation to escape notoriety for a while, and she wasn’t ready to give up the blissful anonymity she’d found here.

  Fortunately she bore little resemblance, now, to the picture the papers had dredged up to accompany the story. Keeping one arm wrapped firmly against her chest, she tentatively reached out to shake the stranger’s hand.

  “Heather. Heather Wright.” Amazingly, the fictitious name rolled smoothly off her tongue—despite her stuttering insides.

  His eyes narrowed for a moment as he regarded her, and she was afraid he could see right through her lie. But then his warm fingers wrapped around hers.

  “Welcome to my lake, Heather. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  She didn’t know what the protocol was for handling encounters like this, but she was pretty sure it didn’t entail casual chitchat. She needed to relay a final apology, and then extricate herself from this humiliating situation. Hopefully she could salvage at least a shred of dignity.

  “I truly am sorry,” she repeated. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “Trespassing?” he queried. “No worries. You have my permission to enjoy the lake anytime.”

  “No, not trespassing. Well, yes, that too, but …”

  “But?” he prompted, quirking an eyebrow.

  “You know …” she trailed off, inclining her head toward the pile of clothing at the edge of the lake.

  He shot her a pseudo-confused look. “Littering?”

  Damn him. He was enjoying this. He was going to make her say it. “If you must know,” she sighed, “I’ve never skinny-dipped before.”

  “Ah. Well, you should definitely try it. Everyone should experience skinny-dipping at least once in their life.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. Was he serious? The heat had obviously gotten to him. “What do you think I’m doing in your lake now?”

  “I hate to break it to you, but it’s not skinny-dipping. That would involve the complete absence of clothing. And while that thong you’re wearing certainly deserves a spot in the Sexy Hall of Fame, it still qualifies as lingerie. There’s an easy fix, though. There’s just one piece of fabric standing between you and the real deal. That is, if you’re brave enough …”

  The expression on his face made it clear he didn’t think she was. He even had the audacity to wink at her, sending her hackles climbing higher.

  “Are you suggesting I strip for you?” She hated the way her voice rose a notch. She wasn’t into histrionics, but considering this total stranger had dared her to remove the one garment standing between her and total birthday-suited-ness, her reaction wasn’t totally out of line.

>   He shook his head. “Of course not. I completely understand why you wouldn’t want an audience. Besides, you like to play it safe. I can see it in your eyes.”

  As much as she wanted to prove him wrong, she was so not going there. She would not be party to his reverse-psychology mind tricks.

  What happened to breaking free from restrictions? her naughty, inner wild child taunted.

  “I’ll strip if you do,” she heard herself challenge.

  Whoa! her sensible side insisted, abruptly stabbing her mental “Pause” button. Don’t even think about it!

  She opened her mouth to speak, desperate to recall her impromptu dare. But it was already too late to rewind.

  Luke hadn’t wasted any time taking her up on the dare. The retraction she’d been about to utter log-jammed in her throat at the sight of him treading water before her, all magnificent, bare male.

  “If this were a game of chess, I believe this is the part where I’d be saying ‘check’,” he murmured silkily, twirling his swimsuit on two fingers.

  He didn’t even try to hide his amusement at the inner battle she was obviously waging, and that infuriated her. Well, two could play at this game.

  Wriggling out of her thong, she sent it flying up onto the lake bank to join her top and shorts. “Checkmate,” she breathed.

  It was a freeze-frame moment. The implosion of hunger that rocked his handsome features at her cheekiness made the bold move impossible to regret. There was something about this man that made her want to take risks and see where they led.

  It was crazy to be so drawn to someone she knew nothing about, aside from the fact that he had the ability to make her pulse zoom from zero to three hundred in two seconds flat. Whoever he was, he wasn’t a stranger to wealth or power. He’d told her he owned this property, and he carried himself with the same assuredness she’d seen in men of means. He wore that special brand of self-confidence that accompanied the privileged life like a mantle. And that placed him squarely in the off-limits column.