Lisa Childs - Beauty And The Bodyguard

Her big eyes narrowed. “We are not talking about me.”

She never did. He’d noticed that, too. She only talked about other people: her kids, his agents and now his daughter.

“Our concern should be only about Megan,” Penny continued. “I’ve never worked with a more miserable bride.”

Now he narrowed his eyes with indignation and pride. “Are you saying that she’s difficult?”

“Of course not,” Penny said. She reached out, almost as if she couldn’t help herself, and touched his arm. She probably only meant to reassure him about his daughter. But then she added, “She’s sad. So sad…”

He shouldn’t have been able to feel Penny’s touch, not through his tuxedo jacket and shirt, but his skin tingled as if he’d felt the heat and silkiness of her skin against his. What the hell was wrong with him?

Maybe he’d been single too long. Like her, he’d lost his spouse. She had died, more than twenty years ago, when their girls were little. But he didn’t need closure—or anything else—but his daughters’ happiness. Ellen was older and settled with a good husband and three beautiful little girls.

But Megan…

He’d always worried the most about Megan and never more than when she got involved with Gage Huxton. She’d fallen so hard for him that it was inevitable she would get hurt.

“She’s marrying a good man,” Woodrow insisted. He wasn’t too proud to admit that he’d used Bureau resources to check out the kid. He was a computer nerd—as introverted and shy as she was. “They’re perfect for each other.”

They’d met in college, in a computer class. They’d been friends for years before they’d started dating. They hadn’t been going out very long before Gage had swept her off her feet.

Damn Gage…

Penny shook her head.

“They are perfect for each other,” he insisted.

“It doesn’t matter how compatible you are,” she said, “if you’re not in love.”

“Love is what made her miserable,” Woodrow said. He could relate to that. Love had made him miserable as well. “Compatibility is more important in a marriage—wanting and expecting the same things. That’s what will sustain a relationship.” And not send one outside the marriage looking for something else.

“Are you speaking from experience now?” she asked.

He wished. He shook his head. “We’re not talking about me.”

“No,” she agreed. “Megan, and her happiness, is our only priority. You need to tell her that Gage is alive.”

“Why?” he asked.

Nothing good would come of her knowing the truth; it wouldn’t change anything. She and Gage had broken up nearly a year ago—before he’d quit the Bureau, before he’d reenlisted, before he’d gone missing in action.

Penny’s grasp on his arm tightened. Her hand was small but strong. He felt her grip and the heat of her touch. “She deserves to know before she marries another man that the man she really loves is alive.”

He hadn’t seen Gage yet. But Woodrow’s former agent and Gage’s best friend, Nicholas Rus, had warned him. Gage had come back alive, but he hadn’t come back the same.

Woodrow shook his head. “No, the man she loves is gone.” And maybe it was better that she never learned the truth.

Megan Lynch stared into the oval mirror, studying the woman reflected back at her. Wasn’t she supposed to look beautiful? Weren’t all brides?

The gown, while not her style, was certainly eye-catching. With twinkling rhinestones sewn onto the heavy brocade, it sparkled. The lacy veil was beautiful and softened the sharp angles of Megan’s face and hid some of the severity of the dark hair she’d pulled into a tight knot to tame. But she didn’t look beautiful. She shouldn’t have expected that she would; she had never looked beautiful before. Why should her wedding day be any different?

No matter how much makeup the beautician had applied, the dark circles were still visible beneath her dark eyes. Tears brimmed in them, but she blinked them away. She wouldn’t feel sorry for herself anymore. She had done enough of that the past several months. She’d nearly drowned in self-pity and guilt.

The knob rattled as someone turned it and began to open the door to the bride’s dressing room. She hurriedly tugged the veil over her face to hide the hint of tears she couldn’t quite clear from her eyes. They kept rushing back—every time she thought of him.

She had to stop thinking about him. He was gone. But even if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have ever come back to her, not after what she’d done. She had to stop thinking about the past and focus on the future, not that she deserved one.

Because he didn’t have one…

Marrying Richard was the right thing to do. He’d always been there for her. Even after she’d broken up with him, Richard had remained her friend. And when her heart had been broken, he’d tried to piece it back together. Eventually, he had even accepted that there was no patching a heart as shattered as hers. He’d insisted that their friendship was a stronger and safer foundation for a marriage than love.

Safe had sounded good to her. And there was no one safer than Richard. He was quiet and shy and nervous and cautious. He wouldn’t put himself or her in any danger for any reason. He would always be there for her—like he’d always been.

Not like Gage…

The door opened fully, but she didn’t turn toward it. She suspected it was her matron of honor, who was supposed to have arrived with the beautician an hour earlier. Her sister, Ellen, was always late. She also had three little girls she’d needed to get ready besides herself, though.

Megan’s heart swelled with love for her nieces. They and the kids she worked with every day made her yearn to have children of her own. She wanted to be a mom like her sister—loving and fun.

She didn’t remember her own mom. Dad had been both a father and mother to her.

Since whoever had entered was quiet—it couldn’t be her sister and nieces. It had to be her dad.

“So what do you think?” Megan asked as she focused on the mirror again. The lace distorted her vision, so she nearly saw it: the beauty of being a bride.

But then a shadow stepped behind her. It was tall and dark in a black tuxedo. The mirror showed only his long legs and his chest. He was too thin to be her father. Too tall to be Richard. She had no idea who he was until he stepped closer yet. Then she saw his head—the short golden hair, the bright green eyes, the darker blond stubble on his jaw…

Just how badly had the veil distorted her vision? Who was she mistaking for a dead man?

Her hands trembling, she fumbled with her veil, pulling it back so she could focus on the apparition. She whirled around to face him.

It couldn’t be…

Gage was dead. He had died months ago, his body lost in some foreign country. But that hadn’t stopped her from seeing him everywhere, every time she’d closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

She shouldn’t be seeing him here—not on her wedding day to another man.

“No…” she murmured. Her knees trembled and weakened, threatening to fold beneath her. “No…”

“So what do I think?” Gage repeated her question. He thought he’d been punched in the gut. The minute he’d opened the door and seen her—sparkling like a vision in white—all his breath had left his lungs. His chest burned, his ribs ached. He felt like he was getting the life pounded out of him all over again.

Her usually honey-toned skin was pale except for the dark circles beneath her enormous eyes. With her sharp cheekbones, small pointed chin and wide dark eyes, she appeared fragile—vulnerable. He knew she was tougher than she looked, though. She’d been tough on him when she’d broken up with him. Then she swayed on her feet, as if she were about to faint.