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The Bodyguard And The Bridesmaid
Metsy Hingle
Right Bride, WRONG GROOM UNDERCOVER… Protecting people was Ryan Fitzpatrick's business - but being Clea Mason's bodyguard was going to be pure pleasure. After all, ever since he'd first laid eyes on the cool, classy business executive, he hadn't been able to think about anything except her body… .AND - IF RYAN FITZPATRICK GETS HIS WAY - UNDER THE COVERS, TOO… Of course, she didn't think she needed protection. But he knew better, and pretending he was her husband was the only way to keep her safe. And if that meant getting up close and personal with the lady, well… it was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it… .RIGHT BRIDE, WRONG GROOM:Marrying Mr. Almost-Right is all wrong, especially when the perfect man is ready to sweep you into his arms.
“I Don’t Care What Anyone Says, I Don’t Want You Protecting Me,” (#u20731bc6-81a0-51b5-89ee-67633e213d57)Letter to Reader (#u1986e642-190a-5a15-a58d-36533715bd40)Title Page (#u41fc0ad4-a57d-578c-bd87-6d78d4bb663c)About the Author (#ud23114e6-598a-52ac-b75f-22685b9bde29)Dedication (#ufaee2a06-d30e-5be0-848c-85673db86423)Prologue (#u46908135-6afd-55f0-99ff-894fe7204a38)Chapter One (#u3bfc4ea7-ae69-543d-8c26-dfebbd33f6e6)Chapter Two (#u0401772a-c800-52ca-bfcc-e183e68358a9)Chapter Three (#ube0f0b55-b95e-5cc2-b60e-16b8e500f195)Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I Don’t Care What Anyone Says, I Don’t Want You Protecting Me,”
said Clea.
“You sure about that?” Ryan asked.
“Positive,” she tossed back. It was bad enough the man made her hormones act up. The last thing she needed was to have him trailing her back to her apartment, sticking himself into her life.
He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s too bad. Your not wanting me, I mean. It would have made us being roommates a lot more interesting.”
“Roommates?” she repeated. “What are you talking about? We’re not going to be roommates.”
“Sure we are. Because from now on, Duchess, wherever you go, I go. That’s what a bodyguard does.”
Dear Reader,
MEN! This month Silhouette Desire goes man-crazy with six of the sexiest, heart-stopping hunks ever to come alive on the pages of a romance novel.
Meet May’s MAN OF THE MONTH, love-wary secret agent Daniel Lawless, in The Passionate G-Man, the first book in Dixie Browning’s fabulous new miniseries, THE LAWLESS HEIRS. Metsy Hingle’s gallant hero protects an independent lady in danger in the last book of the RIGHT BRIDE, WRONG GROOM series, The Bodyguard and the Bridesmaid. Little bitty Joeville, Montana, has more tall, dark and rugged ranchers than any other town west of the Mississippi And Josh Malone has more sex appeal than all of ’em put together in Last of the Joeville Lovers, the third book in Anne Eames’s MONTANA MALONES senes.
In The Notorious Groom, Caroline Cross pairs the baddest boy ever to roam the streets of Kisscount with the town virgin in a steamy marriage of convenience. The hero of Barbara McCauley’s Seduction of the Reluctant Bride is one purebred Texas cowboy fixin’ to do some wife-wranglin’—this new groom isn’t about to miss a sultry second of his very own wedding night. Yeehaw! Next, when a suddenly wealthy beauty meets the owner of the ranch next door, he’s wearing nothing but a Stetson and a smile in Carol Grace’s The Heiress Inherits a Cowboy.
Silhouette Desire brings you the kind of irresistible men who make your knees buckle, your stomach flutter, your heart melt...and your fingers turn the page. So enjoy our lineup of spectacular May men!
Regard,
Senior Editor
Silhouette Books
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.. 3010 Walden Ave., PO. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian. P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont L2A 5X3
The Bodyguard and the Bridesmaid
Metsy Hingle
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
METSY HINGLE
is a native of New Orleans who loves the city in which she grew up. She credits the charm of her birthplace, and her own French heritage, with instilling in her the desire to write. Married and the mother of four children, she believes in romance and happy endings. Becoming a Silhouette author is a long-cherished dream come true for Metsy and one happy ending that she continues to celebrate with each new story she writes. She loves hearing from readers. Write to Metsy at P.O. Box 3224, Covington, LA 70433.
To Sandra and Michael Brown.
Two very special people, two very special friends.
Prologue
She hated weddings, Clea Mason decided, scowling at the bridal bouquet of white roses and lilies that had managed to land in her hands. Silently she cursed Ryan Fitzpatrick. If he hadn’t distracted her, she never would have caught the blasted bouquet.
“Oh, Clea, you’re going to be the next bride!”
“Not if I can help it,” Clea muttered to her newly-married assistant, Gayle. There was no way she intended to get married—ever.
“You’ll change your mind when you meet the right man. Just like I did when I met my Larry,” the other woman replied dreamily before being ushered off for the garter toss.
Relieved to relinquish the spotlight, Clea glanced at her watch and frowned. Just how long does the maid of honor need to remain at these things? Recalling her two sisters’ weddings, she nearly groaned. If memory served her correctly, she’d have to stay at least until the newlyweds left, and they didn’t look like they would be going anytime soon.
Resigned to being stuck a while longer, Clea studied the guests who had turned out for the wedding of her assistant at Destinations. Most were employees of the travel agency, Clea noted. Not surprising, since the bride and groom had no family in Chicago and the agency’s owners had insisted on hosting the reception. Clea paused as her gaze fixed on Ryan Fitzpatrick.
Even huddled with the tuxedo-clad groomsmen, he stood out, and not simply because of his height. The man was flat-out gorgeous, Clea admitted. With his sharp-edged features, deep blue eyes and wicked grin, he reminded her of a fallen angel. His dark hair brushed the collar of his shirt in a way that made a woman itch to run her fingers through the wayward curls, she thought, and tightened her fingers around the stem of the bouquet. As though sensing her scrutiny, Ryan looked up and flashed her that lady-killer smile.
Her traitorous pulse jumped. Blast the man, she thought. Turning away quickly, she barreled right into Sean Fritzpatrick. “I’m sorry,” she said, taking a step back to steady herself.
“I’m not. You can run into my arms anytime,” Sean informed her with a grin. He shifted his gaze to the flowers in her hands. “I was going to ask you to dance. But what do you say we just skip the dancing part and get married instead?”
“Ignore him,” Michael Fitzpatrick said, shouldering his younger brother aside before she could even catch her breath. “Marry me. I’m a much better catch.”
Clea laughed at their outrageous proposals, the tension inside her evaporating. Amused, she relaxed as the brothers bickered over which of them she should marry. Nephews of the owners of Destinations, the pair were familiar faces at the agency she managed and the source of more than a few fantasies among her female staff. Given their good looks and reputations with the fairer sex, Clea was grateful she’d never been tempted to engage in anything more than friendship with either man. Too bad she couldn’t say the same thing about their brother Ryan. Ryan disturbed her in a way no other man had for a very long time.
“Clea, tell my thick-headed brother here that he’s wasting his time,” Sean insisted.
“You’re both wasting your time,” came Ryan’s deep voice from behind her. “Clea isn’t going to marry either one of you clowns. She’s going to marry me.”
Stunned, Clea whirled around. Her pulse hammered furiously as she stared at him. Mischief sparkled in his eyes as he twirled the bride’s garter on his index finger. A smile played across his lips. “Marry you?” she repeated, her temper spiking at his arrogance. “Why I—”
“Can hardly wait. I know, darling. I feel the same way.” And before she could utter a word of protest, he hauled her into his arms and kissed her.
One
“I want Clea Mason’s case,” Ryan said firmly. Folding his arms over his chest, he stared across the desk at his brother Michael and prepared to do battle.
Michael disengaged the speakerphone, severing the telephone connection with their aunt. He leaned back in his chair. “There is no ‘case,’ little brother.”
Ryan bit back the temper that had been building inside him from the moment his Aunt Maggie had come on the line and told them some nut had been pestering Clea. “I may be the new kid on the block here as far as being a private investigator goes, but as a former cop I can tell you that some pervert sending Clea twisted love letters and calling her on the phone makes for a good case of harassment.”
“Which is what I tried to tell Aunt Maggie,” his brother replied, looking more like a lawyer than a detective in his neat white shirt and tie. “We’re security specialists, Ry, not bodyguards.”
“The office manager at Destinations being harassed by some guy doesn’t warrant some specialized security?”
“You and I both know this isn’t a security matter. It’s a police matter—which is why I didn’t want to take this job to begin with.”
“But you did take it,” Ryan pointed out.
Michael scowled at him. “When’s the last time you came up against Aunt Maggie and won?” Not waiting for an answer, he continued, “Besides, what chance did I have when you sat there agreeing with everything she said?”
“I happened to think she was right. Clea needs protection.” At his brother’s snort, Ryan said, “Come on, Mike. You heard Aunt Maggie. This has been going on for a couple of months, and the cops haven’t gotten anywhere. That’s why she wanted to hire us, and it’s the reason you let her bamboozle you into accepting the job. And since you did accept the job, someone needs to keep an eye on Clea. I’m volunteering.”
“Seems to me you’ve been keeping your eye on Clea for quite some time.” Michael pitched down his pen and eyed Ryan closely. “Hell, I wouldn’t be at all surprised if she was the reason you decided to leave the LAPD and move back here to join Sean and me at the agency.”
It was pretty close to the truth, Ryan admitted silently. Clea had played a role in his decision to come home. But as the youngest of four boys, he’d learned a long time ago not to give his brothers that kind of ammo. They’d rag him to no end if he did. “My reasons for coming home aren’t the point here. Clea’s safety is. I’m offering to do the job and make sure nothing happens to her.”
“The ‘job’ would be a lot easier if we could tell Clea we were going to keep her under surveillance.”
“I agree. But since she balked at the idea when Aunt Maggie suggested it, we can’t. I’ll just have to protect her without her knowing it.” And while he was keeping her safe, who knew what would happen? A smile tickled his lips as he remembered meeting her for the first time six months ago. He had stopped in at the travel agency to visit his aunt and uncle. While he had waited, he’d been admiring the rear view of the feminine curves and legs of the woman whose back was to him.
Then she’d turned around. And wham! It hit him—that quick-fire flash of awareness. One look into those cat-green eyes, and he’d been a goner. Sure, there was lust. A man couldn’t look at Clea and not want her. But it was more. There was something endearing about the swift way she moved around the office, the way she dealt with the young mother trying to stretch her travel dollars for a visit home. It touched something inside him.
He hadn’t expected it, and certainly hadn’t thought it would happen with her. He’d heard all about the efficient Clea. Ambitious corporate women held no appeal for him. He liked his women soft, fragile—the Suzy-Homemaker types who would be happy being a wife and producing a team of little leaguers. No way had he imagined falling for a career woman. And he certainly hadn’t imagined that the woman he did fall for would take so much convincing that he was the right man for her.
“—besides, you’ve only been with the agency a few weeks. Hardly enough time to get your feet wet in this business.”
Ryan jerked his attention back to Michael and realized he had missed half of what his brother had said to him. “Sorry. What was that you were saying?”
“I said tailing someone who knows you can be a tricky business. Both Sean and I have had more experience at it. It might be better if one of us handled this.”
“No way.”
“Ryan—”
He shot to his feet. Flattening his palms on the desk, he leaned in, bringing his face within inches of his brother’s. “I’d say twelve years on the police force with eight of those years working under cover in vice and homicide gives me a lot of experience. So don’t pull that garbage about you and Sean being older and more experienced. I’m telling you I want this case.”
“What case?” Sean asked, breezing into the room and looking as though he had just tumbled out of bed. Some female’s bed no doubt, Ryan decided, given the sleep-hungry, but sated expression on his brother’s face. Making himself at home on the edge of Michael’s desk, Sean drank deep and long from the steaming cup he held in his hands.
“Clea Mason’s case,” Michael replied.
Sean glanced up from his cup, his eyes sharp with interest. “Clea The Dish is a client?”
“Not exactly,” Michael informed him as he shoved back from his desk. He went over to the coffee setup and poured himself a cup from the pot. “It seems some guy’s been sending her twisted love letters. Last night he phoned her. Aunt Maggie was with Clea when she got the call, and from what she heard, the fellow’s verbal skills leave something to be desired.”
Sean swore and crushed his empty cup. “I’d like to get my hands on the creep.”
“You’ll have to wait in line,” Ryan informed him.
“No one’s going to get a shot at the guy unless the cops catch him,” Michael replied. Until they do, Aunt Maggie wants someone from Fitzpatrick Security to keep an eye on Clea.”
“And that someone is going to be me,” Ryan insisted.
“Hey, wait a minute! Why do you get to have all the fun?” Sean countered. “Besides, I think Clea has a thing for me. Did you see the way she looked at me at that wedding reception last week? The woman’s nuts about me. I certainly wouldn’t object to keeping her company. I’m your man, Mike. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her.”
“The hell you will,” Ryan said through gritted teeth. “If anyone’s going to take care of Clea, it’s going to be me.”
Sean practically beamed at the outburst. “Face it, little brother. The lady’s not interested.” Pitching his empty cup into the trash can, Sean scored a ringer and pulled his fisted arm down in a victory sign before turning back to Ryan. He grinned. “Now what was it she said in answer to your proposal? Oh, yeah, I remember. Something like, ‘not if you were the last man on earth.’ Guess you’re just not her type.”
“And you think you are?” Ryan shot back.
“As a matter of fact, I do. And you know, now that I think about it, she never did turn down my proposal.” Amusement gleamed in his eyes. “I guess that means she and I are engaged. In that case, I definitely should be the one assigned to keep her safe.”
At thirty-two, he would have sworn he’d outgrown the habit of rising to his siblings’ baiting, Ryan told himself. Obviously, he hadn’t, because he was itching to pound his fists against his brother’s grinning face. “Like hell you will,” he repeated with a snarl, clenching his fists at his side.
“You know, Sean does have a point,” Michael said, failing miserably to hide the smile tickling his lips. “From the look on Clea’s face when you kissed her at that wedding, I’d say you’re not exactly her favorite Fitzpatrick.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Ryan told him. Clea’s response to his kiss may have been brief, but there had been no mistaking that flash fire between them before she’d caught herself.
“Guess you got shortchanged on the Fitzpatrick charm, little brother,” Sean needled. “Now, me on the other hand—”
“Didn’t get any,” Ryan fired back, then turned to Michael. “I want this case, Mike. We agreed I’d be an equal partner when I joined the agency. Well, I’ve been with the firm nearly a month and all I’ve done is shuffle papers.”
“Shuffling papers is part of the job.”
“But it’s not all of it,” Ryan argued.
Michael sighed. “Give yourself a break, Ry. From what I heard, you were handling some pretty heavy stuff before you turned in your badge.”
“Handled is the right word. It’s done, and now I’m ready to move on. I want to go to work.”
“Kids,” Michael said as though his extra three years made him ancient. “I’d think you would appreciate having some time to get used to not being a cop before having cases dumped on you.”
“I don’t need any time. I’m finished being a cop.” He had done the best he could at the job, but the system had gotten to him. He would no sooner bring in a bust, than the criminals were back on the street. But it hadn’t just been the job. He had felt something was missing in his life and realized it was family. So, he had turned in his shield, packed his bags and come home. “What I need is to work—and I don’t mean more desk-jockey duty. Besides you and Sean are already tied up on other cases. It only makes sense that I get Clea.”
“Hold on a second,” Sean countered. “You take the check fraud case I’m working on, and I’ll guard Clea’s body.”
Michael shook his head. “Sorry, bro. No can do. Sylvia Miller specifically requested you head that investigation.”
“Ah, yes, the lovely Sylvia,” Sean said, his eyes brightening at the mention of the shapely bank president. “So much for me not having any charm.”
Ryan snorted. “Then it’s settled. I get Clea.” Standing, he decided to get going before anyone objected.
“Ry, hold on a second,” Michael said.
Ryan paused, then frowned at his brother’s serious expression. “Yeah?”
“Chances are this nut who’s harassing Clea is harmless. That type usually is. But if he’s not—if he decides he wants more of a thrill than he can get from a letter or phone call—she could be in real danger. She can’t afford to have someone who isn’t completely focused on the job protecting her.”
Ryan stiffened. “You think I can’t handle the job?”
“I’m saying I know you’ve got a thing for Clea.” Michael held up his hand when Ryan started to protest. “We both know becoming involved with a client screws up your judgment. You lose focus because you’re no longer thinking with just your head. If that happens on this case, it’s Clea who’s going to pay the price. I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
