Wyatt (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers #4)

by Lynn Raye Harris

  “Will I be allowed to go into town?” Not that she imagined they had much of anything to do in Eagle’s Ridge. But it was better than staying cooped up the whole time.

  Especially with a man who made parts of her tingle that she would rather did not. At least not right now when her life was so fraught.

  “You can go, but not alone. I go where you go.”

  And didn’t that thought make all her parts shiver?

  “Is there anything to do in town?”

  “Depends on what you want to do. There are shops. A library. A few places to eat and a bar.”

  “What kind of shopping?”

  “Not the kind you’re used to, I imagine. Boutiques, antiques, that kind of thing.”

  “Clothing?”

  “There’s a Walmart on the outskirts of town—did you forget something?”

  “No. Just curious what you have here.”

  “There are knickknacks and stuff—touristy shops. I don’t really know because I don’t shop.”

  “I can see that.”

  He glanced down at his clothing—faded jeans that fit him far too well and had worn patches that highlighted parts she wished they didn’t. He wore a gray flannel shirt over a black T-shirt, and his hair brushed his collar. On his feet were dark gray work boots that looked as if they’d been well broken in.

  Not quite the type of bodyguard she was used to. The men she usually hired wore suits and faded into the background. She didn’t think this man could ever fade into the background.

  “I’m comfortable. And this isn’t the red carpet,” he said.

  She had only to look at all the plaid surrounding her to prove that. “No, it certainly isn’t.”

  “You might want to dress down while you’re here. If you don’t, you’ll stand out like a sore thumb. You’ll probably be uncomfortable too.”

  “I’ll keep it in mind,” she said. “So, how long have you been a bodyguard?”

  “Counting today?”

  “Well, yes.”

  One corner of his sensual mouth lifted in a grin that did things to her pulse. “Technically? About two hours now.”

  Chapter 6

  Her pretty mouth fell open. She blinked at him. He could see the moment that her surprise turned to fear, and he berated himself for being an ass. She might annoy him, but she didn’t deserve that.

  “You’re safe. Really.” He dragged in a breath and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. This is my first bodyguard assignment. But I’m not new to security or combat. I’m a Navy SEAL. Or was.”

  Her body seemed to relax into the cushions again. So she knew what a Navy SEAL was. It would be impossible not to with all the TV shows and press about them.

  She stared into the fire, and he could see the weariness lining her features. She’d washed away the makeup she’d been wearing earlier, but it didn’t detract from her beauty. She was just as lovely without makeup as she was with.

  “What happened?” she asked. “To make you leave, I mean.”

  That simple question slammed into his gut like a sucker punch. He didn’t know why that was. He’d been asked by his friends why he’d left the Navy. Gran had asked. He’d given them answers, but not the right answer.

  He wasn’t going to give it to this woman either—but he wanted to. For once, he wanted to speak the words and let someone else know what a failure he’d been.

  Except she wasn’t the right person, was she? He was supposed to take care of her, not frighten her. And he would take care of her. He didn’t want her questioning that.

  “It was time to come home. My grandmother needed me.”

  “So you’re from here?”

  “Born and raised. My grandfather came shortly after the town was founded. He knew the founders when they were in the Army Air Corp together in World War II. Chandlers have been in Eagle’s Ridge ever since.”

  “Isn’t being a Navy SEAL dangerous? They’re commandos who go after terrorists, right?”

  “That’s one of the things we do, yeah. And it can be dangerous. I’ve lost teammates before. Nearly been killed myself. That’s part of why I came home—I’m all Gran has left.”

  “All she has left? Your parents are gone?”

  “Rafting accident when I was three. Gran and Gramps raised me. He died a couple of years ago at age ninety.”

  “I guess it’s good you came back then.”

  Wyatt didn’t know why he was telling her these things. He got up and went into the kitchen, wishing like hell he could drink a beer but unwilling to do so while he was supposed to be guarding her. Instead he got a bottle of water and twisted off the top, downing half the contents.

  She watched him from the living room, the firelight caressing her skin, highlighting the delicate structure of her nose and cheekbones. Her cat jumped up on the couch and nosed his way into her lap, flopping over like he’d run a marathon.

  She dug her fingers into the silver fur and stroked him. He started to purr, the sound a steady rumbling that reached Wyatt where he stood. Paige bent her head and crooned soft words to him.

  Wyatt suddenly wondered what it would be like to have those hands on his body. The stirring in his groin didn’t surprise him this time. Apparently he was attracted to snooty blondes.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, lifting her head to gaze at him. The cat blinked lazy blue eyes as if to say You envy me right now, don’t you?

  “Fine. You?”

  “I think so. Just tired. It’s been a long day.”

  “You should go to bed. Everything will be okay, I promise. I’ve got a security system, and I’m pretty good with a pistol.” He was trying to be lighthearted with her, but the truth was he could kill with his bare hands if necessary. “Nobody’s finding you here. Unless you tell them where you are. And I wouldn’t, if I were you. You can’t trust that the information will stay safe.”

  He’d made sure her phone’s location was shut off earlier, but if she told someone where she was, it wouldn’t matter.

  “I won’t tell anyone.” She gently removed Mr. Fluffypants from her lap and stood. He looked incensed, but then he jumped down and ran to the bedroom where she was staying. Smart cat.

  Lucky cat.

  “Good night, Wyatt.”

  It was the first time she’d said his name. He liked the way it sounded on her lips. “Good night, Miss Spencer.”

  He was tempted to call her Paige, but he needed to stay professional. Needed to keep that barrier between him and the client, no matter how pretty she was.

  She smiled almost shyly before she hurried down the hallway and disappeared inside the master. She left the door open a couple of inches for the cat.

  Wyatt found himself wishing he could sneak in there and lay his head in her lap while she stroked his hair like she had the cat’s. He shook those thoughts from his mind and went over to open up the laptop he’d set up as his command center.

  Time to check the cameras and see what was out there.

  Paige was cold. She blinked awake and stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling for half a second before bolting upright, her heart hammering. She scared Mr. Fluffypants, which made her squeal because she hadn’t expected him to leap off the bed and streak out the door.

  “I’m sorry, Fluffy,” she called after him, her heart still pounding a mile a minute. But she remembered where she was as she took in the hideous deer comforter and wood walls of the cabin.

  That didn’t help with the cold, however. She threw back the covers and grabbed the sweatpants and shirt she’d discarded in favor of her pajamas last night. After changing—and realizing she’d failed to pack extra socks—she went over and pulled open the curtains on the french doors.

  “Oh my,” she breathed. She unlocked the doors and pulled one open so she could walk out on the deck. Her condo overlooked Puget Sound. She loved waking to that view.

  But this one might be even better. It was early, and the sun sparkled on green mountains crowned with white
caps at their tips. There was a valley below, and what looked like a town far in the distance. The shimmery curve of a river snaked down the middle of the town. It wasn’t a big town. Even from this distance she could tell there were no shopping malls.

  The air was cool, and she wrapped her arms around herself. Her breath frosted and cold seeped into her feet from standing on the deck with no shoes. It occurred to her that if she’d gone to Hawaii, she’d have her toes in the sand instead of freezing them off.

  But she hadn’t wanted to be so far away, in case the studio decided to resume taping. It would take her only a handful of hours, including waiting at the airport, to make it back to Seattle. Hawaii would take a whole day.

  She didn’t think they were going to resume anytime soon, but she could hope. It wasn’t about the money. It was about freedom and the ability to make her own way without taking orders from her father.

  A thud sounded behind her. She whirled as Wyatt charged through the french doors.

  So many things hit her senses at once. His hair stuck up as if he’d just gotten out of bed, and he had a weapon that he quickly dropped to his side when he stepped onto the deck. But holy hell, it was the fact he was only wearing a pair of athletic shorts that had her pulse zipping into outer space.

  His chest was broad and packed with lean muscle. He had a tattoo on his left pectoral that she recognized as the Navy SEAL trident. Thank God for hot actors doing network series about SEALs these days, or she wouldn’t know that’s what it was. She was kinda glued to those shows. Probably a lot of women were.

  This man was not a hot actor. He was the real deal. A lethal commando who painted his face and parachuted behind enemy lines to rescue hostages or stop terrorists. Or used to anyway.

  He was also hot. Incredibly hot. His pistol dangled at his side, and his shorts clung to his package. The outline was, er, large and prominent.

  Paige shivered anew, but she didn’t think the crisp air had a thing to do with it. Her nipples tightened. She prayed they weren’t showing through the thick material of the sweatshirt, but with her luck they probably were. At least she could blame the cold.

  “You okay?” Wyatt asked, his voice gravelly with sleep.

  “Yes… Is something wrong? Did King send another message?”

  He came over and put a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t thought she’d sounded panicky, but maybe she had. A current of heat flowed from his touch, dripped through her body. She didn’t care to analyze where it landed or what it was currently doing to her lady parts.

  “He didn’t. You’re safe here.”

  She could feel the heat emanating off him, smell the woodsy scent that clung to his skin. It was part pine, part woodsmoke—and part cold steel. He squeezed her shoulder again. Her gaze lifted to his in spite of some small sense of self-preservation that told her not to meet his eyes. Not to let their gazes tangle at such close range.

  She did it anyway. And her insides melted.

  “There’s an alarm on the door,” he continued. “When you opened it, the alarm triggered on my phone. I didn’t know if someone was coming in, so I had to check. I’m sorry if I scared you.”

  She sucked in a breath. “I wouldn’t have opened the door if I’d known.”

  “It’s okay. I should have told you.” He gave her a lopsided grin that flipped her belly. “Told you I’m new at the civilian side of things. Didn’t think you’d wake before me.”

  “I’m an early bird.”

  “So am I. But it’s barely five a.m.”

  “Wow. Really?” She hadn’t looked at the time before she’d stepped outside. No wonder her feet were cold. The sun hadn’t had a chance to warm the deck yet.

  “Yeah.” He tucked the pistol away in his shorts, the grip sticking out of the top of his waistband—where did he find the room? Wasn’t he worried about shooting something off?—and turned to gaze at the pretty scenery she’d been admiring before he interrupted her. He pulled in a lungful of air and reached up to scrub his hands through his messy hair.

  Paige nearly choked on her own tongue. His sides rippled, his arms flexing in the morning light. You could bounce a quarter off those abdominals. Even his thighs and calves were tight with corded muscle.

  He was beautiful, and her lungs refused to work as the synapses in her body went into overload.

  She must have made a noise, because he turned back to her, a quizzical look on his face.

  “What’s the matter?”

  Speak, Paige. You have to speak. “Uh…” Focus on something. Anything.

  The pistol grip was still there, still sticking out of his waistband. She nodded toward it.

  “Aren’t you afraid of shooting off a part of your anatomy you might need?”

  He glanced down. Then he laughed. “The gun’s holstered. Trust me, it’s fine.”

  “You have a holster in your pants?”

  “And a weapon too.” He shook his head. “Sorry, couldn’t resist. Yeah, I have a holster. It’s a sticky holster. Not going anywhere, and neither is the gun.”

  “I’ve never had a bodyguard who seemed as…” She searched for the word. “…as relaxed as you. They wear their guns in shoulder holsters beneath their coats and look constipated most of the time.” She waved a hand in his direction. “And you just stuffed a gun down your shorts.”

  “I’m going to guess that your former bodyguards didn’t have my training.”

  “No, probably not.” Because she’d never noticed that easy confidence Wyatt had in any of her prior bodyguards.

  He turned back to the view. “God, I missed this.”

  She went up to the railing and leaned against it, looking over the valley like he was. They were surrounded on three sides by trees, but the deck jutted out just enough to give them this view.

  “It’s pretty. But there’s so much space,” she added with a shudder. “And no coffee shops.”

  “You prefer the city?”

  “Yes. No bears. No wildcats. The only wild animals there are the single guys looking for love.”

  “Not the single women too?”

  “Oh, I’m sure some of them as well. I just haven’t noticed since I only date men.”

  “Are you dating one now?”

  The question shocked her. And pleased her. Was it inappropriate? Maybe. But she didn’t care.

  “I’m not. Why?”

  “Just looking for angles on your stalker. You dump anyone recently?”

  Disappointment tasted bitter, didn’t it? Of course he wasn’t asking about her love life for personal reasons. Not that she was interested even if he was—

  Oh hell, who was she kidding? After that gorgeous display of muscle and manhood, she was definitely interested. What heterosexual woman wouldn’t be?

  “Not recently, no. The police already asked me that question.”

  He shrugged, never taking his eyes off the view. “I must have missed that in the case files.” He straightened from where he’d been leaning on the railing and turned toward the house. “You want some coffee?”

  She had to drag her gaze from his flat belly and the gun grip protruding from his waistband. “That would be nice, yes.”

  His smile could power entire cities based on the storm it set to trembling inside her.

  “Great, so would I. I’m gonna shower while you fix a pot.”

  Chapter 7

  “How’s the client?” Hawk asked.

  There were many things Wyatt could say to that question, but he decided to stick to the basics. He glanced at Paige’s closed door and presumed she was getting dressed. When he’d left her to take a shower a little while ago, he hadn’t really expected she’d fix the coffee. But she had. Shocked the hell out of him.

  He took a sip, half wondering if she’d spiked it with something. Hot sauce, for example. She hadn’t. He relaxed and swallowed the first mouthful.

  “She’s doing okay. Not happy to be here, but she hasn’t been a pain in the ass yet.”

  A pain
in other places, but not in the ass. Yeah, seeing her on the deck this morning, her nipples poking through her sweatshirt like twin beacons, had sparked a reaction in his groin. Her long blond hair had hung down her back, and her feet were bare. She’d looked sweet and sexy and anything but the high-maintenance heiress the dossier had painted her to be.

  Yeah, she’d sparked a reaction all right. He’d been fighting the mother of all erections while trying to be casual with her. It hadn’t been easy. Or fun.

  “That’s good. Her father said she was strongheaded.”

  Wyatt was predisposed not to like her father, though he wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe because of the way Paige had seemed so stunned when she’d realized he was taking over from Bruce. Nobody had told her that, and she’d been upset.

  Made him think that maybe her father didn’t discuss things with her, even when those things involved her.

  “She’s fine. A little put out to have her life turned upside down, but that’s understandable.”

  “It is.” Hawk sighed. “No news on this guy who calls himself King. No fingerprints on the envelope, paper, or photo. I’ve got a couple of detectives watching her apartment building for suspicious characters, but so far everyone checks out. The disgruntled studio employee turned out to be clear as well. No new suspects.”

  Wyatt and Hawk talked for a few more minutes before ending the call. Spike—because Wyatt refused to call the poor thing Mr. Fluffypants—came over and rubbed around his ankles for a few seconds. Wyatt reached down and scratched the cat’s head. He was rewarded with a flop onto the side and a loud purr.

  Paige emerged from her bedroom then. She looked hot in a pair of jeans with a tank top beneath a filmy shirt, and high-heeled boots that reached to her knees. She also looked expensive.

  She took one look at Spike sprawled on the floor and grinned up at Wyatt. “He likes you.”

  “That’s because I call him Spike.”

  She frowned, but he didn’t think it was a real frown. “He doesn’t know you’re calling him that. Call him Fluffy. He’ll respond to it.”