The Bodyguard. Sheryl Lynn
him.”
“I—we didn’t know. I only learned about the wedding last week.”
She glanced at the limo, which still idled on the other side of the parking lot. “She’s been planning this a lot longer than a week.”
“What can I say?”
Unable to bear looking at him one more second, she hurried to her car. Once inside, with the door locked, she rested her face against the steering wheel.
“Damn you, Penny,” she muttered. Their mother had wrested a deathbed promise from her eldest child: take care of Penny. She’d prevailed against the social-services bureaucrats who had stated that since she was only nineteen years old she couldn’t handle the guardianship of an eight-year-old. She’d gone to war and won, when her father’s ne’er-do-well relatives had learned Virginia Forrest had left a sizable insurance policy for the care and education of her daughters. She’d given up her dreams of attending medical school. She’d given up the university and a social life in order to mother Penny full-time.
She drew in several long, soothing breaths then fished her car keys from her pocket. She’d given it her best shot, tried to save Penny from making a horrible mistake, and in gratitude received a kick in the teeth. She fumbled with the keys, but her fingers were stiff from the cold. She dropped the keys on her lap and slammed the heels of both hands against the steering wheel.
Leave, she told herself. Drive away, forget this mess and wait a few weeks until Penny came crawling in search of forgiveness. She kept envisioning that look on Penny’s face, kept hearing the accusation that Frankie tried to ruin her life. She rested her face against the wheel again.
Irony tweaked her. Because of Penny, she’d gone to work for Max Caulfield. He owned the largest private security firm in the state of Colorado. He’d offered health insurance and flexible hours—benefits her age, experience and schooling hadn’t warranted. She’d started work as a researcher and gofer, which meant she could do some of her work at home so she could be there when Penny got out of school. Max had taken her under his wing, praising her intelligence and affinity for details. When graphology became popular as a useful tool in hiring employees, he’d paid for Frankie’s education in the field. To her delight she discovered that handwriting analysis was something she was good at. She’d made a lot of money for Max by helping his clients weed out dishonest employees.
In her wildest dreams Frankie had never thought she’d fall for her boss—or that he’d fall for her. Her worst nightmares had failed to prepare her for the Bannermans. Belinda and Julius, mother and son, two of the most greedy, self-serving people on earth. Max had fallen in love with Belinda’s vast wealth. Julius had taken one look at Penny and put her on his list of amusing little conquests.
Her life had been in the toilet ever since.
She opened one eye and peered at the dashboard clock. If she hurried, she’d make it to work on time.
Soft tapping on the window startled her. She jerked up her head. McKennon had removed the sunglasses.
She rolled down the window. He had unusual eyes, like emeralds shot with gold—bright and piercing against his dark face. Frankie couldn’t recall ever seeing him look so concerned. Her throat choked up.
“My apologies, Miss Forrest. It wasn’t my intention to get rough with you. But I had my orders.”
“Stick your orders where the sun doesn’t shine. I don’t need your apology.” She sniffed and groped through the mess on the front seat for a tissue. “Or your pity.”
A hank of thick hair had fallen over his forehead, softening somewhat the hard angles of his face. His sympathy embarrassed her. She’d never been particularly nice to him. When they worked together she’d been a tad jealous of his close relationship to Max. Even more, she hadn’t liked the effect he had on her. Any man who, through simple actions such as holding a door or offering a cup of coffee, could make her insides turn mushy had to have something seriously wrong with him. She hated the way he invaded her more sensuous dreams. She was a one-man woman and wasn’t about to let a hulking mercenary turn her head. Sarcasm and thinly veiled insults had always kept him at bay before.
At the moment all she could do was miserably return his gaze and wish somebody, even McKennon, would hold her and assure her that everything would be all right.
“Want to talk?” he asked.
His compassion annoyed her. He had no right to feel sorry for her. He certainly had no right trying to make her feel better.
“Julius is your brother-in-law now. If you’re going to have a relationship with Penny you need to be polite to him.”
She fumbled the key into the ignition. “Thank you very much for the advice, McKennon. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go home.”
He laid a gloved hand on her parka sleeve. “You’ll lose her.”
Damn him to hell and back for being right. Penny was as prideful as Frankie. “She could have at least finished college.”
“She has to make her own mistakes.”
In the rearview mirror she glimpsed approaching figures. Her cousins walked in a knot, all of them looking at Frankie’s car. She loved her cousins, but at the moment she wished a spaceship would swoop down and abduct the lot of them. She shoved McKennon’s hand away and exited the car. She searched the path for any sign of Penny.
Janine Duke took command, as usual. She gave Frankie a perfunctory hug, then stepped back. Garbed in a dark blue silk suit with cartouche trim, Janine looked like a fashion photographer’s dream. All her cousins looked great, Kara and Ross, Dawn, too, all were dressed like movie stars. Frankie was not merely an interloper, she was an oversized, lunkish mess wearing ragged jeans and the Frankenstein coat. She must look as wild as she felt.
She glanced surreptitiously at McKennon. He’d put back on the sunglasses and his strong-as-steel facade. She guessed he was thinking Frankie was the family nut. The family loser.
“Penny won’t leave the chapel as long as you’re here,” Janine said.
“Why am I not surprised?” She turned back to the car. “I have to go to work, anyway.”
Ross slid an arm around his wife’s waist. He and Dawn exchanged knowing glances. “If you leave now, you and Penny will have a harder time patching things up. Come to the lodge. We’ll get Penny calmed down. You two can talk.”
She needed to leave. She wanted to leave so she could hide and lick her wounds in peace. She thought about how she needed to go to work, and her cat was probably starving by now, so he’d be looking for a few books to shred in order to vent his frustration. She had a video to return. Like McKennon said, Penny needed to make her own mistakes. “None of you understands what’s going on here.”
“Try us, Frankie.” Kara, the youngest of the siblings, stepped to the fore. She took Frankie’s cold hand and rubbed it briskly between hers. “Why is Penny so angry with you?”
Startled, Frankie caught her breath. Angry? Penny had no reason in the world to be angry with anyone, much less with Frankie. Yet...she’d seen the look in Penny’s eyes as she stood on the chapel stoop. There had been a strange hardness in the girl’s expression, a glint of something deep and dark and hurtful.
“She has no reason to be angry,” Frankie said hotly. “She knows I’d do anything for her.”
Kara shrugged. “Okay, maybe she isn’t angry. Maybe she’s just embarrassed. You know, about—”
“She should be embarrassed. Julius is old enough to be her father.” Frankie didn’t like the way her cousins shared knowing glances. “What? You all know something. What is it?”
Silence hung heavily over the parking lot. The idling engine of the limousine began to sound very loud, like a rumble of distant thunder, and the stench of exhaust clashed with the clear mountain air. Frankie searched their faces one by one. Ross averted