The Bride's Bodyguard. Beth Cornelison
and shrugged. “He had me keep the plane tickets for Jamaica in my purse. And…well, he gave me a corsage to wear at the rehearsal dinner last night. He gave—”
“Where’s the corsage?” His eyes were bright with interest again.
“At my house, in the refrigerator. I was hoping it would stay fresh until I got back from the honeymoon.” She sat straighter. “I don’t remember anything beadlike added as embellishment. But I suppose—”
“It’s not the corsage.” Jake’s jaw tightened. “The bead is important. Something he wanted protected, guarded. He wouldn’t have put it in something you’d leave in your refrigerator while the two of you jetted off to the islands.” He pressed his mouth in a thin line of consternation. “There has to be something else. Think!”
“I’m trying!” Her inability to decipher this puzzle grated on her logical, analytical nature. Jake’s dissatisfaction with her help challenged her innate need to please, to prove herself, to excel. “We’re assuming the term bead is literal. We don’t know that what he gave me is beadlike at all. What if bead is an acronym or a code name? ”
“You’re right. We shouldn’t think so narrowly.”
He shoved to his feet and grabbed her wedding dress from floor. “Have you gone over this to see if he hid something in the beading? ”
“I didn’t see anything unusual. Besides, Brent didn’t give me the dress. He hadn’t even seen it until today.”
He continued probing the decorated folds of satin with a wrinkle in his brow. “Maybe he hid something in your suitcase without telling you. Have you searched it?”
“Yes. I didn’t find anything I hadn’t packed myself.”
The house was rapidly growing dark as the sun set outside. Without the use of lights, which would call attention to their presence in the vacant house, they’d soon be left in an all-encompassing darkness. Paige shuddered at the thought, remembering the terrifying blast of gunfire and Trench Coat’s menacing smirk.
She had something terrorists wanted. Something they’d happily kill her to retrieve.
The pressure to come up with an answer bore down on her. She curled her fingers into her hair, pressing her temples with the heels of her hands. “I don’t know! I have no idea what those men were after or why Brent thinks I have it!” Her voice cracked, thick with defeat and fear. “I’ve gone over the last few weeks again and again, and I just can’t—”
Jake captured her head between his hands, startling her. She hadn’t noticed his approach, and his calmly commanding grasp stole her breath.
“It’s all right, Paige.” As soon as he had her attention, his hands gentled to a soothing stroke that settled at the base of her skull. His fingers tangled in her hair, and his gaze held hers. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll figure this out another way.”
In the wake of all he’d sacrificed this afternoon to save her, her failure gnawed at her belly. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what—”
“Shh.” His thumbs caressed her jaw, and she saw a warmth and understanding that she’d never seen before in his chiseled face and military-hardened attitude. Her pulse stumbled, and heat flooded her cheeks where his thumbs grazed her skin. “Maybe we’re going about this all wrong. Maybe a better plan would be to get a fix on what this bead is and why it is a national security risk.”
With Jake’s hands in her hair, his muscled body so close, her voice fled, but she managed a small nod.
His touch made her dizzy, and a heady thrill tripped through her veins. She indulged in a leisurely study of his full lips, his slightly crooked nose and his angular cheeks, where the first hints of evening stubble had grown.
Jake McCall, with his navy SEAL body, military bearing and ruggedly handsome face, exuded a masculinity that shook Paige to the core. He was nothing like the soft-in-the-middle, somewhat geeky, scientist-type men she’d dated. Nothing like the man she’d almost married.
Guilt bit hard on her conscience when she thought of Brent. How could she swoon like this over Jake’s tantalizing touch and bedroom eyes while her fiancé was in the hospital dying?
No. Not her fiancé. She couldn’t marry Brent now, not after he’d lied to her, put her in danger, proven how little she knew about him. Her chest tightened as she thought about how disappointed her father would be. He’d introduced her to Brent, encouraged the marriage, been so proud of her.
But she’d never had more than friendly affection for the man her father wanted her to marry. She’d believed the love would grow over the years, had believed passion was a fleeting thing only the fortunate few ever really had. Because marrying Brent made her father happy, because she knew how important Brent’s role in Bancroft Industries was, Paige had been willing to enter a marriage based on platonic feelings and good business. She’d thought it would be enough for her.
Now, the extent of her relief that she’d not legally married Brent today told her just how wrong the marriage was. But how could she let her father down? How could she jeopardize her family’s position at Bancroft Industries?
“Paige?” Jake’s deep voice called her from her troubled thoughts and refocused her attention on their more immediate problem.
“H-how…” she croaked, then paused to clear her throat and lick her dry lips. “How are we supposed to find out what the bead is?”
Jake’s gaze darted to her mouth, his pupils dilating, and she felt his grip tighten subtly.
“My sister said Brent’s unresponsive, so we can’t ask him about it.”
When she mentioned Brent, Jake’s expression shifted, hardened, and he withdrew his hands from her face. His movements stiff, he rose to his feet again and stalked across the floor.
“What about your father? Maybe he’d know something.”
Paige blinked and shook her head, unsure she’d heard him correctly. “My father? Why would he know anything?”
“He’s the head of the company, about to pass over the reins to Scofield. If this has anything to do with Bancroft Industries, there’s a good chance he knows something.”
“Who said Bancroft Industries was involved?”
“Brent said a business deal had gone sour. As a medical research and development company, Bancroft Industries has the means to engineer something that could pose a national security risk.” He shrugged. “Can you think of any other way Brent could have gotten involved with terrorists? He have any questionable hobbies, travel to exotic places?”
Paige’s shoulders slumped. “No. The company is his life.”
The idea that her father’s business, a company her grandfather had built from the ground up, could have been infiltrated by terrorists made Paige nauseated.
Jake faced her, his body taut and poised for action. “In that case, our focus should be on Scofield’s role at Bancroft Industries. Can you get me inside? I need to search Scofield’s office, take a look at his computer.”
“I…guess so. In the morning, I can—”
“No. Tonight.” Jake stepped over to her and, with a hand under her elbow, hoisted her to her feet. “If national security is at risk, then the clock is ticking. We have to move on this. Now.”
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