The Protective Groom: Billionaire Marriage Brokers

by Lucy McConnell

  “He must have been quite the conquest for you.” Molly sipped her soda.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you always went for a guy who was just below you. Jeremiah didn’t have the backbone to survive your family. Before that was Christopher. He was too dumb to keep up with you. And then there was Huckster. Was that his name?”

  Harley dropped her face into her hands. “Unfortunately.”

  “Good-lookin’—mmm—but as shallow as a dry creek bed.” She took another sip. “But Noah. He seems smart.”

  “He is,” Harley agreed.

  “And he’s not a wuss.”

  “Nope.” He wanted to charge right into the line of fire the other night.

  “I’ll bet The General even listens to him.”

  Harley nodded, thinking of the call she just had with her dad. “For the most part.”

  “And he did not follow his reflection in the hallway mirror, so I’m pretty sure he’s not all caught up in pounding protein even though he’s a cross between Tony Stark and a young Tom Cruise.”

  Harley hadn’t seen Noah check himself out in a mirror at all. He did his thing and cleared out of the bathroom. Besides, there was more to him than just the husband for hire thing. He’d spoken of a darkness he’d faced and she’d seen the effects of it firsthand. Then there was the image Paige, his sister, painted in her texts. It wasn’t anything Harley could put her finger on, just the mention of Addison missing her favorite uncle and things like that. Kids were good judges of character, and if an eight-year-old adored Noah, there had to be more to him than she gave him credit for. “He’s deep,” was all she offered Molly. Deep enough that Harley suddenly had a desire to throw out their little truce and plunge into Noah Baker to see what she could discover.

  “That’s what I like about you—you see what you want and you go for it.” Molly pulled her shoulders in. “I’m trying to be like that.”

  Harley had a hard time following the jump from Molly practically accusing her of hitting Noah over the head and dragging him back to her mansion to Molly’s insecurities. But since it took the conversation away from her and Noah, she ran with it. “What is it you want?”

  Molly spun her can in slow circles. “I don’t know. Life was easier when we were in college.”

  Harley put her arm around Molly’s back and leaned her head on Molly’s shoulder. “Wasn’t it, though?”

  “My gram passed away four months ago.” Molly sniffed.

  Harley gave her a small squeeze. “I’m so sorry.” Molly’s gram was her North Star. Gram and Gramps had disowned Molly’s parents when they were imprisoned for smuggling drugs. They’d set up a trust for Molly, which had paid for a guardian and later college and now living expenses. Molly had plenty of money, but she’d lacked close family relationships throughout her life. Gram stayed in touch through email as she and Gramps traveled, but it was never quite enough for love-starved Molly. Once they’d become friends, Harley had invited Molly into her life and family. After graduation, Harley focused on building her empire, and time with Molly slipped into the background. “Is your gramps around?”

  “I think he’s in Asia now. I’m not even sure. The only way I know he’s alive is that I haven’t been contacted by his lawyers for a reading of the will.”

  “Oh, Molly. What can I do?”

  “I just needed to cry it out.” She wiped her eyes. “Now I need some retail therapy. Wanna go shopping?”

  Harley dropped her arms and settled back into her chair. “House arrest, remember?”

  “What’s up with that, anyway?” Molly popped a chocolate into her mouth and studied the counter.

  Harley groped for a story. “Stewart’s worried that the group that attacked the zoo will target donors next.”

  Molly leaned forward and whispered, “I can sneak you out. We’ll hide you in the trunk and no one will ever know.”

  Harley laughed. “You and your schemes. Remember when we tried to steal the cheerleader uniforms to get back at that girl for sleeping with Trevor?”

  Molly scowled. “It would have worked if that guard had slept just two minutes more.”

  “I should be more like you.” Ambushing my husband sounds like a great idea. “We’ll have to shop some other time.” Harley smiled, hoping to soften the blow.

  “Sure. When?” Molly demanded.

  “I’ll call you as soon as the restrictions are lifted.”

  Molly bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth across the tabletop as if she were working through her calendar in her head. “Okay. Do you want to watch the movie?”

  Harley wanted to get out to the garage and Noah. A plan was slowly forming—nothing drastic like what Molly would come up with, but something nice and slow and steady. They had a whole year to get back to kissing and rolling around under tables. In fact, she had a nice big one two rooms over. “I’m kind of exhausted. I haven’t been sleeping well since the attack at the zoo.” Not an all-out lie. She did find it hard to sleep, with Noah so close and yet so far away. His deep breathing as he slept did funny things to her insides. “Can we watch the movie another time?”

  “Sure.” Molly’s smile was forced. “We’ll find a way to have lots of time together soon, I’m sure.”

  Harley brushed off Molly’s awkward statement. The girl sometimes had a hard time with social cues, and Harley blamed it on her lonely upbringing.

  She guided Molly to the door and locked it behind her. With a wicked grin, she ran in to refresh her makeup and smooth her hair before ambushing Noah. The first step to any good plan was reconnaissance. She planned to find out what things Noah was interested in and then maybe talk about those for a few days. Establish some common, neutral ground that they could build upon. Once they mastered being in the same room and conversing for a length of time, she’d figure out step two.

  Chapter 22

  Noah pressed the number for the private investigator Agent Gonzales had recommended in their last meeting. Freddy Templeton had no online presence and an unlisted number. Which seemed odd for a man in his business, but Noah considered the idea that most of his clients came by word of mouth.

  As much as Noah wished he could be in three places at once, it just wasn’t possible. His most important position was right next to Harley. Anything else, he’d have to outsource.

  He got past the secretary by using his connection to the detective and explained the situation, finishing with, “I need full coverage on Jeremiah Wheaton.”

  “Do you have his address?” The PI’s voice was scratchy, like he’d smoked for thirty years and had no plans to stop.

  Noah rattled it off. He’d spent enough time poring over the case files to have them committed to memory.

  Freddy went over his rates, and Noah let out a low whistle.

  “If it’s too much, I can do part time.”

  “No, I want the whole package and updates every four hours.”

  “You got it, boss.”

  Noah chuckled as he said goodbye and hung up. He chugged the last of his soda and threw the can in the garbage. It clanged loudly against the metal, and the sound echoed off the cement floor and bare walls as if he were in a cave.

  A man cave. Harley’s garage had everything, including parts specifically for his ancient truck. Which was a relief. In the past, Noah had spent weeks tracking down items on eBay; here, they appeared as if a truck genie lived in the metal supply closet.

  Lying on his back on the trolley, Noah slid under the truck and loosened the bolt holding the oil pan in place. Before pulling it away and releasing the flow of liquid, he double-checked the placement of the bucket used to catch the old oil.

  To his dismay, Harley had been avoiding him for several days, pretending to sleep when he came in at night and cowering under the covers in the morning. She couldn’t look him in the eye after experiencing his cowardice firsthand, and Noah couldn’t blame her.

  His self-loathing took on new levels the day after the shooting. He’d
gotten so low, he called Harry, his mentor, who still worked for the LAPD. Harry assured him that blanking out was normal considering what he’d gone through; Harry had experienced it himself after his first firefight. They talked over a few coping strategies, and Noah hung up feeling a little better. If a man who had been on the force for twenty-some-odd years still struggled, then Noah was no wimp. He needed to work through his flashbacks and probably see a counselor again. He couldn’t do that while on active duty, though, and he wasn’t willing to give up his place as Harley’s husband. He’d use the techniques Harry recommended to get him through, and then start another round of couch confessions.

  Focusing on solving the case was one of Harry’s ideas, and Noah intended to put it into practice. If he could keep his mind occupied with relevant details, then he wouldn’t spend as much time degrading himself.

  The landscape had been eerily calm since the shooting the other night, and waiting around was getting to Noah. He felt like he was missing something important. It was right there in front of him, and he just couldn’t bring it into focus. That’s why he was changing the oil in his truck. Working with his hands distracted his mind and allowed faces and theories to flow in the background. That, and he wanted to avoid Harley’s guest. He’d been surprised to find anyone in the house; he hadn’t heard the door, and security usually texted him an alert. He dialed the gatehouse.

  “Stewart.”

  “Do you ever go home?” joked Noah.

  “I live here. Same as you.”

  “Yeah.” Noah scratched his cheek. “Did you see Molly come through the gate?”

  Papers rustled. “Ralf let her through.”

  “I didn’t get a text.”

  “She’s on Harley’s list. She’s come every day since Saturday, and I’ve been overcautious. Ralf didn’t know I was keeping the A-listers out too.”

  Noah grunted. Each family member had a short list of people who were allowed through even in times of tight security. To make it on the list was a huge step of trust. “I’m going to need to see that list.”

  “That’s the list. It’s just Molly.”

  “No other friends?”

  “Nope.”

  Strange. Come to think of it, Harley didn’t spend a lot of time socializing. Besides Sunday dinners and charity events with the family, he hadn’t seen her go out—with anyone. “Is Molly her only friend?” Noah asked quietly.

  Stewart sighed. “Pretty much. They’re a tight-knit group.”

  The high walls, close houses, and purposeful segregation kept threats away, but it probably also scared off the opportunity to make friends when a person had to be patted down before coming over to hang out. “Thanks for the info.”

  Stewart hung up without saying goodbye.

  Noah opened the blue-and-white box that the oil filter came in. Harley had a limited social life, which also limited the suspects. The Wilsons were picky about who they spent their time with, which meant that those they did let into the inner circle measured up to a certain standard, which meant that it was unlikely that any of them were psychotic.

  “There you are.” Harley’s face appeared next to the wheel, her hair brushing the floor and her smile playful.

  “Here I am,” he replied guardedly.

  “Daddy called. He has some résumés for new security guys he wants you to go over in the next twenty-four hours.” Harley placed her palms on the floor and dropped to her knees.

  “I can do that as soon as I’m done here.” He slipped the new filter in and lifted the pan back in place, acutely aware of Harley’s critical eye.

  “What ya doin’?”

  “Maintenance.”

  Harley rolled her eyes. “Riiiight. But what?”

  “Oh.” Noah hadn’t expected Harley to stick around. Now that she was here, he wasn’t sure what to do about it. “I’m changing the oil.” He dug his heels into the floor and pushed back so the dolly rolled out from under the truck. “I found a filter on the front seat. Do you know anything about that?” It was a long shot to think Harley had researched the specific type of filter needed for his Ford, but he’d kind of hoped …

  Harley sat back on her feet and brushed her hair over her shoulder. “That would be Bobby.”

  “Bobby?”

  “He’s the on-site mechanic. He maintains everything with an engine. He was probably going to change your oil this afternoon. You could have waited.”

  Noah got to his feet and offered Harley a hand up. When they touched, fire burst up his skin, and he had a hard time letting go. Only the reminder that she saw him as a fragile little boy allowed him to distance himself from her. Cracking open a liter of oil, he poured the amber liquid into the engine. “I like doing it myself. I’ve done so many repairs, I know this truck inside out.”

  Harley folded her arms and leaned against the fender. If Noah had a dime for every time he’d hoped to see a beautiful woman next to his engine, he’d have more money that General John. “Maybe you should buy a newer truck—something that doesn’t take as much work.”

  Noah felt the last glug of oil leave the bottle and replaced the cap. He turned, leaning his hip against the grill. “There is no better truck on God’s green earth than this lady.”

  Harley laughed. “Maybe because it outlasted the dinosaurs.”

  Enjoying the lightness about Harley that he hadn’t seen in days, Noah encouraged her teasing with, “I believe the word you’re searching for is classic.”

  She picked up the empty oil bottle and tossed it into the recycle bin. “Where’d you find it? The dump?”

  Noah shook his head. “Naw, it was my grandpa’s.”

  “Were you two close?”

  “Sort of. He was a narcotics officer and a hardballer, but we’d get covered in grease and oil and he’d talk about going to Disneyland on opening day or the way things used to be.”

  “And he gave you the truck?”

  “Are you kidding? No way he’d part with Matilda.”

  Harley shook her head like women do when they don’t understand men, and Noah reveled in her attention careful to prod the conversation along. Maybe he couldn’t have the whole ball of wax with Harley, but he’d missed her these past few days. And she wasn’t asking him to discuss what happened or open the safe where he hid his shame.

  Talking about Grandpa was easy—good memories. “It sat for a few years when he was in a rest home, and when he passed away, no one wanted to deal with it. I had just turned sixteen and knew a bargain when I saw one.”

  “A bargain, huh?” She challenged him with a lift of her eyebrow.

  “They don’t make ‘em like they used to. Let me show you.” Noah took her elbow and steered her around to the driver’s side. Her vanilla-and-lavender scent filled his senses, and he swore he could feel her pulse against his palm. Opening the door, he motioned her into the seat. He pressed the horn, and a deep ahooga echoed through the garage. “Where else are you going to get a sound like that?”

  Harley laughed and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Nowhere, hopefully.”

  “Not impressed? Well, check out the stereo.” Noah reached across her, her breath on his neck driving him insane as he twisted the knob to find a station. An Iron Stix country ballad came through the static. The lead singer going on about a love to last through eternity. The air charged with awareness. Noah pulled back, leaning his hands against the doorframe.

  Harley stared at him, something churning behind her eyes he couldn’t identify. “I like the stereo.” She glanced at her hands. “Is that why you wanted to be a cop—because of your grandpa?”

  Her question was like throwing cold water down Noah’s back. Was she trying to figure out why he panicked? “You don’t have to worry, Harley. No matter what, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”

  Harley twisted her legs and slid from the seat into the impossibly small space between Noah and the truck. “I know.” She placed her hand on his chest, and Noah’s heart hammered so loudly he was sure it echoed
in the garage. “Will you tell me about being a cop?”

  Noah knew what she was asking. She wanted to know why he froze, why he’d needed her. He didn’t want to give that burden to Harley. It was his to carry. Though she’d helped with her embrace, kisses weren’t a lasting cure. Hard work and discipline were. “It was just a job.”

  Harley dropped her hand. “I wish you felt as safe with me as I feel with you.”

  Noah stepped back. “It’s not your job to make me feel safe.”

  “Is that all this is, a job?”

  Noah jammed his fingers through his hair. Between the stalker, John’s threats to leave his daughter alone, and Harley avoiding him for days on end, Noah wasn’t sure which direction he should take this. In frustration he blurted, “Well, it sure isn’t a marriage.”

  Harley pressed her hand to her stomach.

  Noah stepped closer. “That’s not what I meant.”

  Harley took a step back. “You’re right.”

  Noah’s heart skittered to a stop.

  Harley headed towards the house. “Do you want a sandwich or something? Mrs. Martinez is probably taking orders for lunch.” Her tone was polite and completely void of the earlier playfulness.

  What have I done? He’d give anything to rewind the clock and take back the last thirty seconds. “I’ll come in and talk to her in a few minutes.”

  Harley disappeared behind the heavy wooden door.

  Noah turned and kicked the four-wheeler tire over and over, focusing on every jolt to his body and the pain in his toe. His cell rang, and he yanked it out of his pocket. Holding his breath so he could control his voice, Noah said hello.

  “Uncle Noah, guess what?”

  Noah’s energy transferred in the blink of his niece’s eye. Maybe he was going crazy. “What, Addison?”

  “We have a surprise for you,” she singsonged.

  Noah shuffled over to the truck and began packing his tools away. “Is it a pony?”

  Addison snickered. “No.”

  “Is it a hot-air balloon?”