by Lori Wilde
While she liked the excitement of waiting until their wedding night to have sex, the lack of physical contact with him was starting to get to her. They were engaged, after all. Nothing wrong with letting him get to third base. She imagined Shane’s hand sliding up her thigh, disappearing under the hem of her skirt, and her face heated.
“Did you hear me?” Lola asked.
“Huh?” Elysee blinked.
“You shouldn’t trust her.”
“Trust who?” Elysee unzipped her dress and stepped out of it.
“Tish Gallagher.” Lola held out her hand for the garment. Elysee scooped it off the floor and passed it to her.
“What do you mean? Tish is great. She saved the engagement party. If she hadn’t changed that disk when she did the photographs could be all over the Internet by now.”
“Please, Elysee, you are so naïve.” Shaking her head, Lola went to the closet, plucked a wooden hanger from the rack and hung up Elysee’s dress. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re really Nathan’s daughter. Your father has been in politics all of your life. Hasn’t that taught you anything about human nature?”
Lola was always so serious. Sometimes, Elysee wished she’d either lighten up or shut up.
“What are you saying?”
“Tish is Shane’s ex-wife.”
“And?”
“There’s a possibility she could be trying to sabotage you. I mean, think about it: what professional photographer leaves her camera bag in the bathroom? Those cameras are heavy. Wouldn’t you notice there’s no big heavy camera bag hanging off your shoulder when you left the ladies’ room?” Lola relished being the voice of doom and gloom. She was an excellent personal assistant, but sometimes her negativity grated on Elysee’s nerves.
“Don’t you think if Tish were trying to sabotage my engagement to Shane that she wouldn’t have told me she’d changed the disk? That she would have sold them to the tabloids herself and probably made a lot more money than what she’s getting paid to put together the wedding video?” Elysee asked.
“Not if she felt guilty and decided at the last minute not to go through with her scheme.”
“You make her sound so Machiavellian.”
Lola arched an eyebrow. “Maybe she is.”
“You have a tendency to look on the dark side of life,” Elysee chided, plunking down at the vanity and reaching for the cold cream to remove her makeup.
“Sometimes you’re such a child.”
Elysee bristled and sat up straight. It took a lot to ruffle her feathers, but calling her childish was one way to do it. She worked so hard to be grown-up, especially since she’d been thrust into the role of her father’s companion on the political trail after her mother passed away. To be thought childish was her Achilles’ heel and Lola knew it.
“I’ll thank you to leave me for the night,” she said coldly. “And I don’t want to hear another word against Tish.”
“But…”
“Not another word.” Elysee raised a cold-cream slathered hand. “Understand?” Her assistant gritted her teeth so loudly she could hear her from across the room.
“As you wish.” Lola hurried for the door, head down. As she passed by the vanity, Elysee heard her mutter, “It’s your funeral.”
Lola’s words ended up poisoning Elysee’s sleep.
Could her assistant be right? Was she being foolish by assuming that Tish cared only about producing a great video and launching her career? Did Shane’s ex-wife still have romantic feelings for him?
More important, did Shane still have feelings for Tish?
The thought struck terror in her heart. Damn Lola anyway, for making her doubt the only man, other than her father, that Elysee had never doubted.
Disturbed by the direction of her thoughts, Elysee forced her mind onto other things. She thought about Rana Singh and what Rana had told her about Alma Reddy’s journey to America. Alma would arrive in Houston via a cargo freighter through the gulf shipping channel. Elysee had promised to offer safe harbor at the ranch until Alma and her husband could be reunited.
Ah, romantic love.
She sighed, the thought bringing her restless mind back to Shane. She tossed the covers aside and crept out of bed. She knew of only one way to put a stop to these gnawing concerns. She needed to have a serious talk with him. He was her fiancé. They shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.
After donning her bathrobe over her pajamas, Elysee stepped from the bedroom and padded past the sentinel posted at her door. Cal Ackerman was reading a J.D. Robb novel.
Elysee missed having Shane as her bodyguard. She recalled other nights when she’d had trouble falling asleep. How he would play chess or watch a silly movie with her until she got drowsy. She thought about how he’d listened while she chattered on and on about her trivial concerns. How he’d often gone down to the White House kitchen and brought back warm milk and chocolate chip cookies for her, just like her mother used to do when she was a little girl.
Sometimes, if she begged him long enough, he would show her things he’d learned in the military and Secret Service training. Self-defense techniques and methods of disabling opponents. She liked those lessons most of all, and yet those had been the ones he’d been most reluctant to teach her.
Affection for Shane rushed through her, filling her chest with a warm tightness of emotion. He was such a good man. A real hero. A great friend. Could anyone really blame Tish for still being in love with him?
The thought brought a stab of fear, draining the joy from her heart. Had she indeed made a grave mistake in hiring Tish? Was she, as Lola contended, ridiculously naïve?
“Need something?” Cal asked, resting his open paperback on his knee. His sharp eyes met hers.
Elysee shook her head. “Go back to your book.”
“Where you headed?” He closed the novel, set it on the small hallway table beside him, and got to his feet.
She hated this part of being the President’s daughter. Zero privacy. She jerked a thumb in the direction of the room where Shane was staying.
“Shane’s not in his room,” Cal said. She noticed then that his gaze had strayed to where her breasts curved beneath her pajama top. A strange thrill of excitement raced through her. Shane had never looked at her with such frank sexual interest.
Doubt squeezed her hard. Suddenly, her stomach rolled queasily. Elysee raised a hand to her mouth. Could he be with Tish? “He’s not?”
“No.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I think he and your father are discussing security for your wedding.” Cal’s gaze locked on hers, he settled his hands on his hips. He was not a particularly handsome man, but he was potently male. He was taller even than Shane and a few pounds heavier. All muscle and edge.
Nervously, Elysee looked away and wet her lips with her tongue. “But he shouldn’t be up this late. It’s after midnight. He’s still recovering from his injury.”
“Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.” Cal shrugged as if it explained everything.
That notion made her feel better. Of course Shane was talking to her father about security matters. Nothing meant more to him than her safety. He was her hero. She had absolutely nothing to worry about, unless she wanted to fret about the bizarre warmth that suddenly heated her stomach whenever she met Cal’s eyes.
This was ridiculous. She was imagining things. She was engaged to Shane. She wouldn’t attach a meaning to a momentary exchange of meaningful glances with her new bodyguard. She was engaged to Shane and he would take care of her, no matter what. He was the man her mother had promised would come into her life. Elysee was certain he was The One.
But how can you be absolutely sure?
Especially when Cal kept staring at her like she was a birthday cake. He’s not. You’re reading something into his look that isn’t there. You’re just getting cold feet, like you did with the other three guys. The problem isn’t Shane, or the way Cal is looking at you, or even Tish.
It’s your own fear that you’ve made the wrong choice.
Again.
“You want me to call Shane?” Cal reached for the two-way radio clipped to his belt. She noticed how his large fingers skimmed over the smooth, black leather. “Tell him you’re looking for him?”
Elysee could go find Shane and ask him about his feelings for Tish. Or she could accept things at face value and go back to bed. Shane had asked her to marry him. They’d officially announced their engagement. She twirled his engagement ring on her finger. It was the prettiest engagement ring she’d ever gotten.
He loved her.
She loved him.
There was no need to talk about the past. It was over. The future lay ahead of them. What was the point of cornering him for an answer? Did she really want to know the truth? What would she do if Shane told her he still had feelings for Tish? Would she fire Tish? Would she let Shane out of the engagement? Elysee nibbled a fingernail.
And then there was the flip side. If Shane assured her that he felt nothing for his ex-wife, could she believe him?
There was a catch-22 between truth and ignorance.
Elysee shook her head at Cal. “No, no, don’t call him.”
Turning, she went back to bed, making the conscious decision to embrace ignorance.
And forget all about the sultry look she’d just seen in Cal Ackerman’s eyes.
Chapter 16
The first thing Tish did when she got back to Houston on Sunday evening was make two copies of the engagement party disk. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would give one to Elysee, keep one for herself, and lock the original up in her safety-deposit box.
After nearly losing her camera to a thief, she wasn’t taking any chances. This job was the only thing she had left. She wasn’t about to screw it up. She could only give thanks she’d changed the disk before the camera had been stolen.
The second thing she did was quickly review the engagement party video before breaking it down frame by frame. Sitting in her office, staring at the screen, watching Shane and Elysee announce their engagement, seeing Shane give her the ring, just broke Tish’s heart.
When Shane touched the small of Elysee’s back, Tish felt the warmth of his hand against her own back and recalled the way he’d held her when they’d danced at Louie’s. Such a small thing. Why did it feel like such a big deal?
Because his hand—his poor damaged hand that had once been whole, had once belonged to her—was now resting against another woman’s back.
Betrayal, hot and salty, rose in her throat strong as brine. Why did she feel betrayed? They’d been divorced for two years. She had no right to feel this way.
Tish sat cross-legged on the floor, heart thumping, eyes filled with tears. She had to get these thoughts out of her head, couldn’t stand the pain of them one second longer.
Forlornly, she drew her knees against her chest and fought back the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. She’d lost so much, but she refused to cry. She was tough. She was strong. Somehow, she would get through this.
In that moment, she turned where she’d always turned when she no longer had Shane to turn to. Hand trembling, she picked up the phone and dialed Delaney’s number.
“I’m back from Washington,” Tish said the minute her friend answered the phone. “It’s official, Shane’s engaged to the President’s daughter. It’ll be in all the newspapers and on the television news tomorrow.”
“I’m coming over right now. What flavor of ice cream should I bring?”
In the background, she heard Delaney’s husband, Nick, calling out to her, “Who’s phoning this late? Tell them to get some sleep and call back in the morning. Come back to bed, Rosy.” Rosy was Nick’s pet name for Delaney because when they’d first met, she’d blushed so much.
Guilt took hold of her. She was being too needy and inconsiderate of her friend’s new life. No matter how close they were, she couldn’t expect Delaney to drop everything and come running whenever she slammed up against a painful memory. Delaney was married now, with a husband of her own to consider. Tish should be respectful of that.
“It’s okay,” she said, forcing false joviality into her voice, “I don’t need any ice cream. But thanks.”
“Are you sure?” Delaney sounded bewildered.
“Sure, I’m sure.”
“Wow.”
“Wow, what?”
“You really must be over Shane.”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “I guess I’ve finally come to grips with the fact he’s moved on.”
“That’s terrific,” Delaney said, sounding dubious.
“Seriously, I’m okay. You don’t need to come over and hold my hand.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
The calmness inside her didn’t feel faked. She was comfortable. Safe. Secure. She’d screwed up by leaving the camera bag in the bathroom at the Ritz-Carlton, but in the end, she’d triumphed. She’d saved the engagement party video.
That’s all that mattered. She didn’t want him thinking his impending marriage to Elysee would destroy her.
“I’m happy for you,” Delaney said. “But are you absolutely certain you don’t need me to come over?”
“Nope, I’m fine.”
“Truly?”
“Delaney…”
“It’s just that I know you. Even if you don’t admit it to yourself, deep in your heart you always hoped that you and Shane would eventually get back together.”
“I’ve come to terms with the fact that’s not going to happen,” she said, proud of herself that she was able to say it without falling apart.
“You’ve made amazing progress,” Delaney praised. “I must admit, I was really worried when I heard you were going to be filming Shane and Elysee Benedict’s wedding, but I guess this will give you the closure you need to move on.”
“Yep.” She was feeling fine. Really she was. But maybe it would be a good idea to get off the phone before other emotions bubbled up. “Just wanted to let you know I’m back from DC and everything’s fine.”
“Thanks for calling. Sleep well.”
“You, too.” Tish hung up the phone feeling that her last lifeline had just been severed.
Shane lay in his bed at the Benedict ranch staring up at the ceiling, feeling as if he didn’t belong. In this place, in the dead of night, he was lonelier than he’d ever been in his life.
As a bodyguard, insomnia came with the territory. It was difficult to sleep when your job required vigilance. But he wasn’t a bodyguard anymore. He didn’t know what he was. He was Tish’s ex-husband, Elysee’s fiancé. But who was he deep down inside?
Shane didn’t know anymore.
Uncertainty had never been an issue for him until he’d been injured, but now it haunted his every waking hour. He thought of his father. He could hear Ben Tremont’s voice in his head saying, “Self-doubt is a weakness.”
But wasn’t supreme self-confidence just as bad as self-doubt? If you didn’t have some doubt when you were on the wrong path, weren’t you cutting off that inner self who knew what was right? Arrogance was a weakness, too. And in the past, he’d been guilty of it.
Maybe that was what he was supposed to learn from the accident. That it was okay to be unsure. That uncertainty could bring you back into balance if you didn’t fight it. He’d been out of balance for so long. Was he too far gone now to find his way back?
Anxiety pushed him to a sitting position. Shane switched on the lamp beside the bed, held up his hand in front of him, searching for answers in the ribbon of red scars crisscrossing his palm. He tried to mime pulling a trigger, but his fingers would barely move. Weeks of physical therapy and he hadn’t progressed any further than this?
How long before he could fire a gun again? Would he ever be able to fire a gun again?
That was the million-dollar question. If he couldn’t fire a gun, how could he be a bodyguard? And if he wasn’t a bodyguard, who was he? His questions brought hi
m full circle without any answers.
A sensation of claustrophobia gripped him the way it had the night he went to Louie’s. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if the walls were closing in.
And on the heels of that feeling came another feeling. It started in the pit of his gut and dug in deep, spreading throughout his body. It was a feeling he’d honed and cultivated as a Secret Service agent. The instinct that told him something bad was about to happen.
No matter how he tossed and turned and tried to ignore it, he couldn’t help thinking that something bad was going to happen to Tish.
In his head, he replayed what had gone down at the DC Ritz-Carlton. What if whoever had snatched Tish’s camera hadn’t been a tabloid journalist as they’d assumed? What if it had been someone with a far darker purpose?
But what purpose could that be?
Shane didn’t know, but the worrisome feeling in his gut wasn’t dying down. He had to check this out. He flung back the covers, jumped out of bed. He dressed and then quietly, secretively, as only a good agent could do, he slipped from the ranch house without being detected. Leaving the property wasn’t as easy. He had to start his SUV, head down the only access road, get security to open the gate and let him out.
Truth was Shane just had to get off the ranch. He had to check on Tish and make sure she was okay.
Why don’t you just call her?
In the middle of the night? And say what? “Sorry to wake you, but I got a feeling?”
Okay, here’s the deal—just drive by her place. If everything looks copacetic, then drive on by. She’ll never have to know you were there.
He traveled toward Interstate 45. Forty minutes later, he was pulling up to the curb outside Tish’s garage apartment in the old-money neighborhood of River Oaks. He’d gotten her address off the business card she’d given Elysee. He suspected she’d moved to this area to be closer to her friend Delaney.
When he saw that the light was on in her apartment, his heart rapped hard against his chest. He blew out his breath. She was awake. Now what?
Good God, Tremont, you’re acting like a stalker.