The Bride's Bodyguard. Beth Cornelison
at him. “What are you d—?”
“I said keep it short, and don’t tell them too much. Her phone was probably bugged.”
A tremor crawled up Paige’s spine. “Bugged? I—” A new possibility occurred to her, and her breath snagged. “Do you think they’d go after my family to get to me? That they’d hurt them to bring me out of hiding? ”
Jake gave her a blank, unreadable look. “It’s possible. You should keep your contact with them to a minimum. Just in case.”
Paige hugged herself, bending at the waist as fear for her family’s safety knotted in her chest.
Jake placed a warm hand at the nape of her neck and gently rubbed her tense muscles. “The sooner we figure out what those men want and what we’re supposed to do with it, the better—for everyone.” He nudged the greasy sack of fast food toward her. “Eat something.”
He toed off the tennis shoes that had replaced his wing tips since his trip out, and he settled beside her with his long legs stretched in front of him. “Did you make a list of the things that Brent has given you in the last several weeks?”
“Yes. But I’m no closer to figuring out what those men wanted.” Twisting her mouth in frustration, she peered into the sack of burgers and fries he’d brought back with him, and her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten all day, having been too nervous for breakfast or lunch and worried about getting her dress to zip. But with the interrupted wedding behind her, what did it matter if she ate fried potatoes and red meat? Tonight she wanted comfort food.
“You can’t think of anything he’s given you, anything you packed for the honeymoon that might not be what it seemed?”
She pulled out a burger and handed it to him, then plucked a French fry from the sack and munched as she shook her head. “Nothing. At Christmas, he gave me tickets to the ballet in Chicago, and we flew up there for a weekend. The trip and a set of Waterford red-wine goblets were my Christmas presents.” She ate another fry, then unwrapped a burger. “For Valentine’s, he sent me two dozen roses—now dead and tossed out.” She accounted for the items with her fingers as she listed them for Jake. “We bought an antique desk together that is at a dealer’s being refurbished. He gave me a folder with life, car and home owner’s insurance information to file a couple of weeks ago.”
Jake’s head came up. “Did you read the file? Are you sure that’s what was in it?”
She nodded. “Read it and added the information to the spreadsheet I’d started for our finances. There was nothing unusual there.”
Jake grunted, then, waving the hand with his burger, motioned for her to continue. “What else did he give you?”
She held up her hand, fingering the elaborate wedding band. “Well, my ring, obviously.”
He arched an eyebrow as he glanced at the ring, then held out his hand. “Can I have a closer look?”
She slid the ring off and passed it to him.
He narrowed his gaze on the setting and whistled. “Wow. This is.” His expression said he was searching for a tactful term.
Paige sighed. “Gaudy? I know. I tried to tell him it was over-the-top, that all I wanted was a simple band to match my engagement ring, but he wouldn’t hear of getting me something as mundane as a plain gold band.” She felt a twinge of disloyalty for her complaint, but something compelled her to rationalize the showy ring to Jake. “I think he felt he needed to give me an expensive ring to prove he was worthy of me.”
Jake raised an eyebrow as he tossed an amused side glance at her. “Think pretty highly of yourself, do you?”
She scowled and grunted. “That’s not what I mean. Brent’s the one who was intimidated by our family’s money. He came from a family that had nothing. Through a lot of sacrifice and ambition, he worked his way up the ladder in Bancroft Industries in record time and was making good money. But I think he always felt like, with me, he was marrying up and had to prove to someone that he could compete with my family’s wealth. He didn’t need to, of course. But buying me an expensive wedding ring seemed so important to him, I didn’t argue.”
Jake turned the domed and jewel-encrusted band over, examining it from every angle. “Your wedding ring is a rather personal and significant item to compromise on. Do you make a habit of letting Brent bully you to get his way?”
Paige hiked her chin up and squared her shoulders defiantly. But her gut swirled, and her heart tapped an anxious rhythm. She refused to let Jake, a man who’d likely never compromised his wishes in his life, see how close to the truth he was. “My ring is just a thing. When you grow up surrounded by things, you learn how little real value and significance they have. Preserving Brent’s pride was more important to me than what kind of ring I had.” She snatched the ring back and jammed it on her finger. “If I can make someone happy by compromising on something trivial like a ring, then…so be it!”
She swallowed hard, hoping she hadn’t overreacted and given herself away with her vehemence.
Jake only stared at her with his enigmatic dark eyes. She felt naked under his knowing scrutiny.
The SEALs trained me to read people, read body language, read subtle clues in facial expressions, Jake’s words echoed in her mind.
She plucked another French fry from the bag and angled her body away from him. Nibbling on the cold fry, she forced her breathing to stay even, despite the flutter of nerves his scrutiny caused.
She heard the fast-food bag rattle as he dug into it. “Well, we can’t rule out the ring, but keep thinking. What about computer files? Something he asked you to pack in your suitcase or hold in your purse?”
She fidgeted with her earring, then gasped and spun back toward Jake.
“His grandmother’s earrings! He wanted me to wear them for the wedding—”
Jake’s face lit up. “The ones you’re wearing?”
Nodding, she put a hand behind her right earlobe and tipped her head to show him.
Leaning closer, Jake brushed her hair out of the way for a better view. When his fingertips skimmed her cheek, a tingle raced over her skin. She tensed, hyperalert to his nearness as he examined the simple gold dangling earrings. She held her breath, all too aware of the fact that in her entire relationship with Brent, her fiancé's caresses had never elicited half the electricity in her that Jake’s accidental touch had. Her heartbeat kicked into overdrive when his mahogany eyes met hers at close range. “May I take it off?”
The deep, husky timbre of his voice stroked her, and she had to swallow hard before she could speak. “Sure.”
She scrunched her eyes shut and gritted her teeth, certain she’d come out of her skin as he fumbled to remove the jewelry from her lobe, his warm fingers teasing the erogenous zone behind her ear. When he leaned back, his attention narrowed on the delicate earring, she drew a shaky breath, puzzled by her schoolgirl reaction to him.
He saved your life today. This giddy, blood-pumping response to him must be some form of emotional transference or hero worship. An adrenaline-based response to your brush with danger.
Appeased by her explanation, Paige turned her attention back to her hamburger but found she no longer had an appetite. She lifted her gaze to Jake, whose brows were furrowed in concentration.
“There are no gems on them,” she offered, taking off the other earring to hand to him. “Nothing that could be called a bead. They’re just hammered gold and a wire hook. They’re not even all that pretty. But they’re family heirlooms, and he asked me to wear them for the wedding.” When he held out his hand for the second earring, she dropped it into his hand, careful not to touch him.
Chicken.
He shook his head and curled his fingers around the jewelry. “Damn. I