The Protective Groom: Billionaire Marriage Brokers

by Lucy McConnell

  Harley took it from him. “I believe it is a silver ice cream scooper.”

  “Nope—it’s a McDonald. It says so right here.” He pointed at the engraving.

  Harley shook her head and smiled. “It was a thoughtful gift.”

  “I can’t wait to try it out.” Noah stuck it in his back pocket. “I’m going again.” Tearing into a large box on the floor, Noah came up with a mini refrigerator stocked with sodas. “No way! This would rock on Super Bowl Sunday.”

  Harley tipped her head back and laughed. It had been years since she’d seen this kind of excitement over presents—probably since her nephew, Xavier, had been five. “It’s all yours.” Harley rescued the card and handed it to Mrs. Hill. They exchanged a shrug that said, Men, and Harley turned back to find Noah staring at her. “What?” She brushed her hair over her shoulder, checking to see if she had an errant piece of tape stuck to her front.

  “It’s just ...” Noah tipped his head and his dimples appeared, giving Harley’s heart a run for its money. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you laugh.”

  Mrs. Hill’s head popped up. Harley discreetly cut her hand past her neck to tell Noah to knock it off. Tipping her head toward the housekeeper to remind him they had company.

  “Today. It’s the first time I heard you laugh today,” Noah amended.

  Nice save. Harley’s thoughts were full of sarcasm.

  Noah handed her another box. “Open it like you mean it.” His eyes were full of mirth and challenge.

  Harley went to take the box, brushing her fingers across Noah’s as she did so. The light contact released every gall darn ounce of inhibition. She giggled and dug into the gift, enjoying the experience of destroying the wrapping paper and throwing it over her shoulder to reveal … a set of gray bath towels. Shaking her head, she set the box aside. “They’re very nice.”

  Noah pulled out a chair and sat down, putting his elbow on the table and resting his temple against his fist. “Your pretty little mouth says nice, but your eyes say something else. Why don’t you tell me why you’re not more excited.”

  Mrs. Hill discreetly stepped out of the room, and Harley was overwhelmed with the feeling of being alone with Noah. His presence filled up the spacious formal dining room like a full bottle of bubble bath dumped in the hot tub. As she gazed into his golden-brown eyes, she found an earnest intent that took her breath away. Unsure if she could trust him—the man could turn a serious moment into a tease faster than she could blink—she found herself wanting to share just a little of herself. The part that no one else got to see.

  “One year, after Jackson’s birthday, Mama overheard him on the phone complaining about all the—” She squared her shoulders, tipping them slightly to the side like Jackson, and mimicked his voice. “—‘crap he’d have to donate to Goodwill.’” Her shoulders fell. “Mama was hurt, but she decided that we weren’t going to give each other gifts anymore. Instead, we would make memories as a family. Wilson’s don’t do presents.”

  Noah nodded, his fingers doing circles on Harley’s knee, leaving behind sparks. When had his hand gone there, and why did she hold still, afraid he would stop?

  “If you could have one gift—just one—that would really excite you, what would it be?”

  You’re doing a pretty good job of exciting right now. Harley bit her lip. “I don’t know.”

  “Sorry—not taking that for an answer.” His fingers switched directions. “It’s a conundrum. What do you get the woman who can buy herself anything?”

  Harley pondered the question. There was one thing. Something tiny and precious with ten perfect little toes and … Harley bolted to her feet. “It’s not something you can give.”

  “Hmmm. I sense a challenge. Come on.”

  Harley laughed. If he only knew what she’d been thinking; this husband for hire would run screaming from the room. Noah had no intention of settling down and being a father; he was a playboy through and through. His ability to make her heart bounce like a newbie trader on the stock market floor was evidence of how good he was at his job.

  “I’m hungry. Mrs. Martinez should have dinner ready.” Harley went to dart past him towards the kitchen, but he stopped her with a hand on her forearm.

  “I’m going to figure it out, Harley.” Noah’s eyes bored into her.

  Part of Harley wished he would, because finding a man who could reach the innermost corners of her heart the way he could had proven to be most difficult. She laid her hand on his cheek. “Let’s just work on finding the bad guy.”

  Noah’s hands slipped off her wrist, and Harley hurried away as the front door opened.

  * * *

  Noah heard Mrs. Hill open the door and greet John Wilson, but his mind was still on Harley. What could Harley possibly want that she didn’t have? The answer didn’t come quickly, and Noah decided it was a puzzle he’d enjoy puzzling over.

  “Where’s Harley?” barked John as he entered the dining room. His eyes roamed over the discarded wrapping paper and the pile of unopened gifts.

  “Eating dinner.” Noah sank back into his chair, feeling as though he’d failed a test of some sort. Ninety-eight percent of the gifts were still wrapped, and he doubted he could get Harley to come back and open more.

  “I came for a report.” John stayed just inside the doorway.

  Mrs. Hill was nowhere to be seen. She must be part Houdini.

  Noah kicked at a silver scrap of wrapping paper. “I met with your security staff at the office, reviewed the file on our stalker, and ordered more cameras for the executive level.”

  John nodded. “Any leads?”

  “A few.” A few I can’t name because they’re your son and your nephew. “I’ll follow up on them and keep you posted.”

  “Good. Julia and I are flying to D.C. in the morning, but we will be back for the weekend.”

  “Good. Harley has a nice dinner planned for next Sunday.”

  John gave him the once over. “For a second there, you sounded like a husband.”

  Noah rubbed at the short hairs on the back of his head. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “Not as long as you remember why you married her in the first place.”

  “Don’t worry. It’s all I can think about.”

  “My offer still stands.” John pointed at him.

  “You mean your threat.”

  “That too. See you in a few days.” John left.

  Noah’s decision to keep his suspicions about the family members close was for his own protection. As for Harley, he wanted to get her something she’d never expect.

  Chapter 17

  Harley flipped back and forth between the projected income statement and the actual income statement for an investment Jackson had recommended. The projections, as it turned out, had increased by seven percent—a matter of almost a million dollars. She hadn’t lost money, but she’d expected this to fund a pet research project in two months. If things didn’t pick up, she’d be forced to pull funding, and that was the last thing she wanted to do. People with families to support were counting on her.

  Her phone vibrated against the desk, and she tapped the screen to check her messages. She’d sent Paige the information on the boots, and they’d opened a dialogue on other shops they liked, both online and traditional. At Harley’s request, Paige sent a picture of Addison competing in a rodeo, and Harley had friended Paige on Facebook so Paige could see the approved wedding pictures. Thankfully, none of the pictures of her kiss with Noah had been posted by her publicist who managed her Facebook account. Unlike her brother, Harley was cautious about what she put online.

  I ordered these. Paige captioned an image of two outfits to go with the boots she’d purchased online the night before.

  Harley pulled the phone closer to her nose to inspect the sundress. It had a gather in the front, just under the chest, and Harley gasped. Maternity? The image made it difficult to tell, and there was no designer information on the screenshot. Harley blew out a breat
h. There was no easy way to ask, so she opted not to.

  Madeline interrupted her musings by setting a small package in front of her. “This just arrived.” She winked and walked away.

  Harley stared at the gift for a moment. The box was small enough to hint at jewelry. She felt the familiar chill of fear creep up her neck. Of course, if this came through Madeline, it would have been through security. Picking up the tag, she read: For the woman who has everything else.

  Noah? She’d told him she didn’t want gifts, and yet he’d seemed awfully determined. Which was hotter than a simmerin’ pot in a summer kitchen. Darn that man and his playboy dimples.

  She stared at the box for several more minutes before tearing into it like Noah had shown her. Lifting the lid, she revealed … a black leather cuff.

  Noah sauntered in. “Did I guess right?”

  Harley dropped the cuff. “Not even close.”

  He shrugged, not looking at all concerned. “That wasn’t really from me. Paige and Addison made it for you before I left, and I forgot I had it.”

  Harley picked up the thick piece of leather. “They made this?”

  Noah nodded.

  “For me?”

  He plucked the cuff out of her hands. “Don’t worry, my gift is on the way.” He took her wrist and fastened the bracelet. It fit perfectly.

  Harley couldn’t believe how touched she was by the simple gift. The feeling was raw and made her vulnerable in a way she wasn’t used to. “Noah, please. I don’t want—”

  Harley broke off as Madeline bustled into the office carrying a large vase full of pale pink roses. Their heady perfume filled the air, and Harley savored it for a moment, her eyes falling shut. It’s the simple things in life …

  Standing, she reached for the card. “Noah, they’re beautiful.” The cuff had obviously been a decoy.

  Madeline left again, winking at Noah as she passed.

  Noah squinted at the flowers. “I didn’t send those.”

  Harley sank back into her seat. The air suddenly seemed thinner. “Daddy said the stalker sent flowers.”

  Noah jerked the card free from the bouquet. Harley was so thankful he and his sidearm and thick biceps were here with her. Not that she would throw herself into his arms, but she wouldn’t turn her nose up at an invitation. The sound of paper sliding against paper was loud in the void. “‘Sorry about the other night—begging your forgiveness. —Jeremiah.’” Noah growled. “I’ll have this fingerprinted.”

  Harley processed several things at once. One: Jeremiah was sorry. He’d never been the type of guy to throw a fit, and he hated confrontation. He must have been really upset to come to the wedding in the first place. Two: The flowers were expensive and her favorite color. Jeremiah remembered. That was really sweet of him. Three: If Jeremiah was here, Noah would beat him to a bloody pulp.

  Harley jumped from her seat and scrambled to block Noah’s exit. “You can’t seriously think Jeremiah is the stalker.”

  “Why not?” Noah made to step around her.

  Harley put her palms on his chest. His well-defined, very muscular, broad—ahem. “It’s not his style. He’s more flowers and flowery words. If he wanted to be with me, he’d say it. Not sneak around and send cryptic messages.”

  “Did he?” Noah studied her hands still on his chest, and Harley dropped them. How long had she left them there?

  “Did he what?”

  “Did he say he wanted to be with you? You two were alone the other night for a while before I found you. Did he say it?”

  Harley pressed her fingers to her temple and clamped her eyes shut. Had Jeremiah said he wanted to be with her? She couldn’t quite remember. “He’d been upset that we married so quickly after he and I broke up.”

  Noah stepped back. “How quickly?”

  Feeling guilty, though not sure why, Harley muttered, “A month.”

  Noah threw his hands in the air. “That’s just great.” He shook his head. “I need to know details.”

  Jeremiah had said some pretty awful things. Though he’d never raised his voice, he had pierced her. That wound was still tender and she didn’t want Noah poking around. “Why?”

  “Because it could provide a motive. Not that we don’t have enough of one on the guy already.”

  “It’s not Jeremiah.” The things Jeremiah had said hurt. And they hurt because they were somewhat true. She had been calculating and distant in their relationship, but that was only possible because she didn’t love him.

  Oh my gosh, I didn’t love him.

  “Harley?” Noah prodded.

  Frazzled, Harley blurted, “He broke up with me.” She bit her lip. “He said I was cold, and I’m beginning to believe him.”

  “Don’t,” Noah pleaded.

  Rarely one to experience self-doubt, Harley had a hard time shaking it off. What if she was simply incapable of loving deeply? What if the romance novels and romantic comedies were about everyone else but her?

  The one time she’d felt that deep, abiding fire inside for a man was when Noah had kissed her. How pathetic; she needed a trained professional to spark her fire.

  “Harley.” Noah’s voice was husky, and his hand brushed her cheek.

  Harley felt her knees go weak. Pushing away, she said, “I don’t want to talk about this. It’s off limits.”

  “Okay. Let’s talk about Jeremiah, then.”

  Harley threw her hands out. “It’s not him! The man cried when we watched Pretty Woman.”

  Noah shook his head. “Everyone has a dark side.”

  “Not you, you happy camper.” Harley folded her arms.

  Noah’s jaw hardened. “You don’t know the darkness I’ve faced.” He flicked the card still in his hands. “I’m calling this in to Agent Gonzales. Don’t leave the building.”

  Noah strode off, and Harley sat heavily in her seat, angry that Noah insisted Jeremiah was their guy, not trusting her judgment. Ticked off that he’d ordered her to stay like a child. And furious at herself for reacting to his touch the way she did.

  Diving into her work like a woman possessed, she waded through three days’ worth of spreadsheets before surfacing again. By the time Madeline appeared with afternoon sodas and chocolates, her anger was replaced by curiosity as Noah’s words ran through her head.

  You don’t know the darkness I’ve faced.

  Darkness, shmarkness. Noah teased, joked, and didn’t take anything seriously. What could he have possibly gone through to crack his perfect smile? Harley chose a dark-chocolate sea-salt caramel off the small tray. If Noah had been through something, he buried it pretty deep. The problem with buried darkness was that it had a tendency to create ghosts. Ghosts that haunted a person for the rest of their lives. So the biggest question Harley had was, did Noah run to her, or was he running away from something else?

  Chapter 18

  Saturday morning at ten, Noah sat in the gatehouse security room with Stewart, John, and Agent Gonzales. He’d had nightmares last night. Nothing as strong as they were right after the incident, but intense enough that his sheets were soaked with sweat when he climbed out of bed. His psychologist had said the frequency would lessen over time. Thankfully, he hadn’t yelled out and woken up Harley. Instead, he took a long shower and cleared his mind before meeting the day.

  He’d dropped Harley off at her mom’s, where a massive dress-shopping event had been staged. Julia had called in a designer from New York, who brought several gowns for each woman for the charity dinner for the Houston Zoo they were all to attend that evening.

  Things had settled down between him and Harley since their disagreement the other day. It hadn’t escaped Noah’s attention that Harley had barely glanced at the cuff when she thought it was from him and practically inhaled the roses. He would have bought her roses, but they seemed so cliché. Besides, there had been more flowers at the wedding than people, and he didn’t want to get her more of what she already had. He’d wanted to get her something no one else would or cou
ld. Still, she’d worn the cuff almost every day, and the flowers lit her up, which made him think he should go a little more traditional.

  “It’s been a week since the wedding, and there hasn’t been another attempt at contact.” Stewart tapped on the keyboard, and the images from the wedding disappeared. “What’s your take on this, Agent Gonzales?”

  “It’s not unusual for a stalker to back off after a major life event.” He tapped the end of his pencil on the table. “I can’t give you an all-clear just yet.”

  John let out a heavy sigh. “What about tonight? Should we keep her home?”

  Noah snorted. “Like Harley will go for that.”

  John narrowed his eyes, and Noah leaned back in his chair. Let the old man blow his top; it wouldn’t change Harley’s independent nature.

  Before John erupted, Stewart jumped in. “Because of Mrs. Wilson’s involvement in the planning, I’ve had access to their security protocol. As long as one of you stays close to Harley, even standing outside the ladies’ room and holding her purse, she should be safe.”

  Noah leaned forward. “I won’t let anything happen to her. I promise.”

  Gonzales nodded. “The vulnerable point will be entering and exiting the vehicle.”

  “We’ll ride together,” John declared. “She’ll have three armed men—Wyatt, Noah, and myself—around her every inch of the way from the car to the building and back out.”

  “I’ll ride shotgun.” Stewart smirked.

  Agent Gonzales tapped his pen on the desk. “One more thing. The other ex-boyfriend is clear. He’s been living in Romania for the past two years.”

  “Good to know.” Noah mentally scratched Christopher off his list of possibilities.

  John stood, buttoning his suit. “If we’re all set, let’s get ready for a party.”

  A party with armed guards and fancy dresses was a far cry from the movie nights and pool parties his family enjoyed. Noah grinned at the differences between his and Harley’s upbringings. One of the benefits to having a fancy party to attend was seeing his wife in a formal gown. Harley was beautiful every day—there was no denying it. He just couldn’t wait to see her all done up.