The Bodyguard's Baby (Billionaire Bodyguard Series) Page 7

  Lindsey shook her head. “Since when do you believe in fate?”

  Kylie sent an impassioned glance at Cade. “Since I found the love of my life where I least expected.”

  Glad to have something else to focus on, Lindsey jumped in eagerly. “Any wedding details?”

  “Not yet. We have time.” Kylie squeezed Lindsey’s hand. “But you don’t. Focus on yourself, do some soul searching, and decide what—and who—you really want. Listen to your heart. You’ve always excelled at that, far better than I have.”

  Lindsey gave a dramatic eye roll. “Seriously. All this logic and practicality is such a drag.”

  Kylie laughed. “Then just be yourself. The you that I love. Throw caution to the wind like you always do. Somehow you always land on your feet and end up with all you desire.”

  “But this is my future, my child’s future,” Lindsey said with a stressed sigh.

  “You’ll make the right choice,” Kylie assured. “I believe in you.”

  “Thanks.”

  I wish I believed in myself right now.

  Lindsey wasn’t sure what to do. She’d always been a live-in-the-moment kind of girl. She landed where the wind took her, followed her whims, loved the adventure of life and the unknown.

  But now she had another little life to consider whose happiness outweighed her own. She wished she could glimpse the future, even for a second, to find the right answer she desperately sought.

  Chapter 6

  The morning after Slone had kissed her at the ice rink, Lindsey didn’t hear him leave for his early morning check-in at Soren Security. Groggier than usual, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and took a hot shower to wake herself up. But nothing washed away the longing for him still churning in her bloodstream.

  Remembering the steamy intensity of his kisses, desire spread through her like a slow burning fire. It consumed her doubts and filled her thoughts with hot, passionate images of their bodies naked and entwined.

  A sex-crazed woman she didn’t recognize had overtaken her body. Nowhere on the fertility medication warning labels did side effects mention insatiable lust. Especially since Slone had admitted he wanted to answer her primal physical call of attraction, but refused to for both their sakes.

  All her chaste intentions left her with a gaping emptiness only he could fill.

  Glad he’d left before she had awakened, before she did something ludicrous like slide in between the warm sheets of bed beside him at dawn, she dressed and microwaved her morning bowl of oatmeal. She heaped on brown sugar and frozen blueberries, forcing herself to ingest one spoonful at a time.

  Up to now, she’d constantly felt famished. It appeared her need for his touch outweighed her body’s desire for food. So unlike her.

  Finally unable to force feed herself, she abandoned the half-eaten bowl, tucked her bare feet under her, and stared out the back kitchen window. The howling wind created three-foot snow drifts against the garage, where a bare garden trellis sagged forlornly, as useless as a scarecrow after crops had been harvested. At least cacti bloomed in the desert. Here, only evergreens contrasted against the empty branches, gray sky, and white canvas of snow draped over the city.

  Then she tilted her head, realizing she stared into the neighbor’s backyard, a gaping hole that the bows of a majestic pine tree had covered until today. Weighted down by heavy precipitation, many of the lower branches had splintered or snapped from the trunk, creating a pathetic saggy tent. The poor old tree had given up after years of defiance against the snow. She’d appreciated its sturdy bows and stalwart presence anchoring the landscape.

  Then she snorted. Okay, maybe Slone had been right. She was a tree-hugger. Not that she’d ever admit it to him. She’d never hear the end of it.

  For a while she considered contacting Devon Leigh Soren, the townhouse owner, to ask what they should do about the broken branches. Before she could, Slone arrived home, his truck caked in icy snow. He informed Lindsey he’d handle it, no need to bother Devon. He went back out, braving the hazardous roads to the local home improvement store, and returned with a chainsaw and a wickedly sharp ax.

  She gaped at him. “Before you go all Jack Nicholson in The Shining on that tree, maybe we should call Devon and see what she wants us to do.”

  “Nah. I’ve got this.”

  Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “Of course you do.”

  When she took the occasional break from writing classroom lesson plans, she peered at him from the ice-frosted window. He resembled a mighty Celtic warrior, strong and proud, throwing himself into the manly task of wood chopping.

  Seeing him in the light of a primitive “provider” role, she felt ribbons of lust curling through her abdomen. She couldn’t help it. Her body reacted powerfully to the sexy sight of him wielding an ax. Probably some ancient, ingrained feminine response to watching a muscular stud overpowering nature with brute force. So weird. But since it happened so often, she’d stopped questioning her body’s innate attraction to this man.

  Displaying super human strength, withstanding the frigid temperatures and sheeting snow, Slone went at the tree branches with a vengeance. He managed to reduce the broken tented branches to perfectly hewn firewood, and stacked it neatly in the garage next to his truck.

  Eventually, his obsessive gusto caused her a flicker of concern. After several hours had passed, she knew he shouldn’t be out there all day like this, wearing only a flannel-lined canvas L.L. Bean coat, tan work boots, leather gloves, and a black knit ski cap. And she told him so when she bundled up and brought him a mug of hot chocolate.

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she reminded, hoping he related to the reference and decided not to over-do it.

  Breathing heavily, he drove the beveled edge of the ax into a thick branch on the ground. He wiped sweat from his brow, tugged off his gloves using his teeth, and wrapped his hands around the steaming mug. Then he stepped back, standing beside her as he calculated his progress. “This is nothing,” he said.

  “It’s quite a lot,” she countered. “And unnecessary. What do you have against this poor tree anyway?”

  “The tree’s fine. It’ll recover no problem, once the dead weight is gone.” He sipped hot chocolate. “We’re running low on firewood anyway. Why spend a fortune at the store when there’s plenty here for free?”

  For a moment her gaze lingered on his lips, and liquid sensation slipped through her veins. She wanted his mouth against hers again, only this time she didn’t want him to stop kissing her. Then she noticed the puffy red pockets of skin forming along the L-shape of his left thumb and forefinger. “Nothing to kill yourself over. Blisters are painful.”

  He shook his head. “Like I said, this is nothing.” He removed his black hat, letting the breeze ruffle his sweat-spiked hair. “Every summer break from school, I spent a solid month with Uncle Jimmy in the woods, thinning out the forest and chopping up logs. Backbreaking, but good hard work, with results you see at the end of the day.”

  “Why go to so much trouble?” She couldn’t fathom.

  Wiping his forehead with his coat sleeve, he returned his hat, tugging it down over his red ears. “Uncle Jimmy’s house had a wood-burning furnace. Rural Kentucky, remember.” He smiled fondly. “Just me and him in the forest, dawn till dusk, stockpiling thousands of logs for fuel in his basement to prep for the winter months.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “Kind of like meditation.” As he sipped from his mug, he sent her a sidelong glance. “You get it.”

  “I do.” She smiled. “That makes sense.”

  “Something about being surrounded by all those old trees. I don’t know. There’s something spiritual about a forest, seeing the cycles of nature everywhere you look. Puts things into perspective. Empties your head of stupid crap. Makes you appreciate the land and what it provides for your survival.”

  “How eco-conscious of you,” she pointed out.

  He snorted. “Yeah, something like that.
I guess I miss those summers. Hell at the time, but valuable looking back.”

  A reverent smile slid across her lips, appreciating the deeper aspects to this man. He’d probably jump off a cliff before he lectured anyone about lofty ideals in a classroom, but he held a personal set of ideals and thoughtful philosophies. She admired that a great deal.

  Lately, it seemed every time she turned around she discovered a new, evolving aspect of him that endeared him to her further. “Need any help?” she asked, trying to hide a shiver.

  He slanted her a dismissing glance as if she’d asked him if she could try out for Olympic weightlifting. “I got this, babe. Go inside and keep warm. I’ll be in later.”

  Startled by the unexpected endearment, she lost her words. She nodded mutely, took the mug he handed her, and returned to the blessed heat of the townhouse that required nothing more strenuous than writing a check to the gas company.

  Somewhere along the way, Slone had grown on her. In a good way. She really liked him. His work ethic, his background and past, his can-do attitude no matter how intense the task. All traits she could describe to her child, but couldn’t emulate the way a father would—without words, teaching by doing instead of theorizing. Slone’s stock in trade.

  With a heavy-hearted sigh, she wished Marissa had never planted the thought in her mind that Slone could be an ideal choice as the father of her baby. Now she wanted him—only him. The one person she couldn’t have.

  *

  It startled Lindsey each time Slone walked the hall past the elementary school library and caught her eye. He stood out glaringly against the backdrop of cartoon murals and children’s handcrafted art pinned to the walls, with his well-muscled height and brooding intensity.

  When the next bell rang, a new group of kids filtered into the library. As a substitute teacher preparing for a full-time position in January, she volunteered any chance that came her way, including library duty, since no mom could make it today.

  The fresh-faced, bright-eyed first graders collected themselves dutifully in a semi-circle around the empty chair where their “special reader” should be sitting, book in hand, ready to read to the kids. She checked her watch and realized the special reader should’ve arrived by now. She approached the head librarian. “Isn’t someone supposed to read to the kids now?”

  “Supposed to.” The gray-haired woman shrugged. “I believe a local fireman was assigned for today. I guess he canceled without telling us.”

  Anxious to keep the kids under control, Lindsey led them in a little sing along for another five minutes. No fireman.

  When Slone passed by again, Lindsey raced into the hallway and grabbed his hand. “I need you. It’s an emergency.”

  He blinked but followed her. “What kind of emergency?”

  “We don’t have anyone to read to the kids.”

  He stopped cold. “What about you?”

  “No, you don’t understand. Every day there’s a special reader, a surprise guest, who comes to the library and reads to the classes. They know me, but you’re new and special. You have to do this for me. Please?”

  He sent a pained glance at the twenty-two kids growing restless a few yards away. “Seriously?”

  She gave him a winning smile and batted her lashes.

  “You’re lucky I like you,” he muttered.

  Yes! “Thank you. This means a lot to them.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

  Pulling him toward the pint sized group, she introduced Slone. “Welcome to special reader day. This is Mr. Rowan, and he’s going to read ‘Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.’”

  Squeals of laughter and delight erupted. The story was a first-grade favorite. She handed Slone the slim book with more pictures than words. “It’s a short, cute story,” she murmured to him. “Just slip into character. I know you’ve done more impressive impersonations before in your Special Ops missions, so this won’t be hard.” She winked.

  He frowned. “Uh-huh.”

  “I saw you in the hall,” a boy with deep dimples said. “Do you work here?”

  “I’m here as a guardian,” Slone said as he sank into the comfortable, cushioned reading chair. “Do you know what guardians do?”

  A girl with pigtails raised her hand and Slone gestured to her. “You guard stuff. Are you here to make sure no one steals anything?”

  “I’m here watching over you, making sure everyone is safe.”

  “Are you a policeman?” another boy with a face full of freckles asked. “I want to be the police when I grow up.”

  Slone smiled and nodded. “That’s a good goal.”

  “I want to be a policeman, too,” another child added, then another, until a chorus of little voices echoed their desire to be one of the men and women in blue someday.

  Lindsey covered a grin with her hand.

  “I’m not a policeman. I worked for the military doing special, secret missions,” Slone said with a slight whisper in his tone.

  “Wow, what kinda missions?” the freckled boy asked with wide eyes.

  Slone rubbed his chin. “If I told you, they wouldn’t be secret, would they?”

  Adoring the way Slone interacted with the children, so natural and unexpectedly charming, Lindsey folded her arms and fought back tears. Stupid hormones, she griped to herself. Why else would she grow weepy watching this big tough guy who’d fought terrorists enchanting small children with the intriguing mystery of his career?

  After he’d patiently answered all their questions at a level first-graders could understand, he cracked open the book and instantly delved into clever characterization. He used distinct voices for the bus driver and the pigeon.

  The pigeon voice he created was hilarious! Without having ever read the story, he mastered the character and viewpoint of the manipulative pigeon who tried to convince the children he should drive the bus. The first graders loved it, grinning and laughing hysterically at the pigeon’s antics as he—Slone—bribed and bartered and finally pitched a fit for the chance to drive the bus.

  The kids won out, par for the course in correlation to the story’s progression.

  When he closed the book, Slone smiled with a joyful twinkling light in his gray eyes she’d never seen before. As though interacting with the kids with such a fun premise had brought out the best in him.

  Would a baby bring out the best in him like this? All the time?

  Her chin wobbled and she glanced away. That’s when she realized Slone had more than first graders for an audience. Several female teachers had wandered in without her noticing their presence. The women ogled him, practically swooning, as they drooled over the sexy hunk reading to kids.

  One cute young teacher with long dark hair sighed. “I knew a fireman was scheduled to read today, but oh my God, hello heaven. I want a calendar with twelve months of him.”

  Lindsey frowned.

  Another teacher with springy red hair leaned in to reply. “I saw him monitoring the halls this morning. I asked Principal Snider about him, and I guess he’s the new security guard. We’ll be seeing him all the time.”

  “Amen,” the dark-haired teacher replied. “I have a new reason to wake up every day.”

  Lindsey scowled.

  “This story has a good lesson,” Slone explained to the kids, who hung on his every word, staring up at him with fixed expressions of adoration. Much like the growing collection of female teachers who had nothing better to do than pine after the man Lindsey wanted but couldn’t have.

  I hate my life right now.

  “Do you know what the lesson is?” Slone asked.

  The lesson is don’t get attached to a man you can’t have, especially a really, really gorgeous one that any woman would die to sleep with. So not G-rated, and Lindsey felt guilty even thinking that in this building. Though she certainly wasn’t alone, she thought, sending a discreet glare at the now eight female teachers practically climbing over each other to get a closer look at Slone.


  “The lesson,” Slone said stoically, “is when a trustworthy adult gives you an order, you follow it. No matter how someone, even a friend, tries to bribe you or get you to act on something that’s wrong, you stay true to yourselves and follow the rules. Rules are there for a reason. Any questions?”

  All twenty-two hands shot up in his audience. Slone never had the chance to read another book. The first graders kept him occupied with questions and curiosities he managed to either answer or deflect like a pro.

  God, Slone was great with them. An amazing kisser. Amazing with kids. Amazingly hot.

  Lindsey wanted to burst into tears.

  It wasn’t fair.

  How, over the past few days, could he have proven to be everything she wanted—and what she’d never have?

  At the ice rink yesterday he’d said himself they would never work together. The timing was all wrong. She couldn’t risk asking him for what he couldn’t give, and her heart would break when he told her what she already knew. He wasn’t the man for her. She needed to have a baby before it was too late, something he clearly wasn’t interested in having. Maybe someday, with someone else, but not now and not with her.

  Exactly as it should be. But…

  No buts. You’ve made your choice, so has he. Let it go.

  If only it were so easy.

  Two hours later he drove her to the clinic in silence occasionally punctuated by his amusing recollections of his “special reader” time with the kids. It seemed to have made his day. All it made her was miserable. Because even if he didn’t think so, she recognized how great he was with kids. But no one can convince another person of anything. They have to decide what they’re capable of for themselves.

  As he dropped her off, Slone told her he’d park and wait for her to text him when her doctor’s visit ended, then he’d pick her up at the front door. Of course he didn’t want to go in with her, accompanying her to an appointment that had nothing to do with him. How awkward would that be—for both of them? This was a highly personal moment for her, the day she chose the donor and arranged for the specimen delivery with her doctor, discovered the extent of how helpful the fertility drugs were, and came to grips with her chances at conception this month. As she should’ve expected, Slone wanted no part of it.