Beth Cornelison - The Bride's Bodyguard

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 thought we had something, but you’re right. There’s nothing to these things, nothing I see as suspicious. Nothing that’d make terrorists want ‘em or threaten national security.” He puffed out a frustrated breath and took another large bite of his sandwich. “What else?” he asked as he chewed.

She fingered the hem of her shirt 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.