Bodyguard/Husband Read online

  “I don’t know how to act with you. What are we supposed to do?” Holly asked her protector.

  Jack’s gray eyes sparkled as he grinned. Her heart fluttered. The transformation was amazing. His whole face lit up and his harsh features turned devastatingly handsome. She tried to focus on what he was saying.

  “We’re supposed to be married. So act like a newlywed. Oh, by the way. I put my stuff in the guest room, but I’ll be sleeping with you,” Jack said.

  “You’ll what?” Holly croaked.

  “We can’t take the chance that your stalker might see anything that would tell him we aren’t sleeping together. We’re pretty sure he has access to your house. So everything must point to a happy newlywed couple. You have a king-size bed, don’t you?”

  Holly nodded slowly. She felt paralyzed in place. A vision of Jack in her bed, tangled in her sheets rose before her eyes. She realized she was still nodding, and stopped.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ll stay on my side of the bed. I’m an honorable man….”

  Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

  Take a very well-deserved break from Thanksgiving preparations and rejuvenate yourself with Harlequin Intrigue’s tempting offerings this month!

  To start off the festivities, Harper Allen brings you Covert Cowboy—the next riveting installment of COLORADO CONFIDENTIAL. Watch the sparks fly when a Native American secret agent teams up with the headstrong mother of his unborn child to catch a slippery criminal. Looking to live on the edge? Then enter the dark and somber HEARTS KEEP estate—with caution!—when Dani Sinclair brings you The Second Sister—the next book in her gothic trilogy.

  The thrills don’t stop there! His Mysterious Ways pairs a ruthless mercenary with a secretive seductress as they ward off evil forces. Don’t miss this new series in Amanda Stevens’s extraordinary QUANTUM MEN books. Join Mallory Kane for an action-packed story about a heroine who must turn to a tough-hearted FBI operative when she’s targeted by a stalker in Bodyguard/Husband.

  A homecoming unveils a deadly conspiracy in Unmarked Man by Darlene Scalera—the latest offering in our new theme promotion BACHELORS AT LARGE. And finally this month, ’tis the season for some spine-tingling suspense in The Christmas Target by Charlotte Douglas when a sexy cowboy cop must ride to the rescue as a twisted Santa sets his sights on a beautiful businesswoman.

  So gather your loved ones all around and warm up by the fire with some steamy romantic suspense!

  Enjoy,

  Denise O’Sullivan

  Senior Editor

  Harlequin Intrigue

  BODYGUARD/HUSBAND

  MALLORY KANE

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Mallory Kane took early retirement from her position as assistant chief of pharmacy at a large metropolitan medical center to pursue her other loves, writing and art. She has published and won awards for science fiction and fantasy as well as romance. Mallory credits her love of books to her mother, who taught her that books are a precious resource and should be treated with loving respect. Her grandfather and her father were both steeped in the Southern tradition of oral history, and could hold an audience spellbound with their storytelling skills. Mallory aspires to be as good a storyteller as her father. She loves romantic suspense with dangerous heroes and dauntless heroines. She is also fascinated by story ideas that explore the infinite capacity of the brain to adapt and develop higher skills. Mallory lives in Mississippi with her husband and their dauntless cat. She would be delighted to hear from readers. You can write to her c/o Harlequin Books, 233 Broadway, Suite 1001, New York, NY 10279.

  Books by Mallory Kane

  HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE

  620—THE LAWMAN WHO LOVED HER

  698—HEIR TO SECRET MEMORIES

  738—BODYGUARD/HUSBAND*

  CAST OF CHARACTERS

  Holly Frasier—Three men are dead because they cared for her. Now she’s married to a stranger who swears he can protect her from her deadly admirer.

  Jack O’Hara—This FBI special agent—known as the Ice Man—never lets his personal feelings get involved. He knows his strength is in his detachment. But Holly Frasier may melt his ice-encrusted heart, if he can keep her alive.

  Virgil McCray—Chief of police of Maze, Mississippi. He only has the best interests of his grandniece Holly at heart.

  Debi McCray—Holly’s younger sister is afraid Holly will leave her alone to care for their great-aunt and great-uncle.

  Stanley Hanks—The university gym’s maintenance man has a special place in his heart for Holly.

  Bob Winger—The town’s high school English teacher depends on Holly to listen to all his problems, and solve them for him.

  Donald Sheffield—Holly dated him for a short while, but he assumed they had a relationship, and he didn’t want to let her go.

  Earl Isley—An insurance agent in Maze, he wrote large insurance policies on both Holly’s dead husband and her missing fiancé, with Holly as beneficiary.

  Mitch Decker—Special agent in charge of the Division of Unsolved Mysteries, Decker treats all of his staff like family.

  Eric Baldwyn—The division’s profiler. He’s got an uncanny talent for delving into the psyche of the killer.

  Danny Barbour—Jack’s best friend, and a detective in Maze who died from anaphylactic shock after a wasp sting.

  For Joyce, who understands why.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter One

  Sunday, June 22

  “Love, if you knew the light

  That your soul casts in my sight,

  How I look to you

  For the pure and true

  And the beauteous and the right.”

  My heart was heavy as I watched you leave a fortnight ago. The days have been so long, the nights so empty since you’ve been gone. I live for your smile. I cherish your sweet, gentle ways.

  You looked like an angel as you said goodbye, your hair as soft and shiny as a child’s, and your white blouse glowing in the sun. You should always wear white.

  But, Holly, you looked so sad. I know you hated to go. Don’t worry, my dearest love. I’m here. I’ll watch over you just like I always have. Every moment you’ve been gone has been like an eternity to me. This has been the longest two weeks of my life. But you will be back tomorrow, and my world will be whole again. I know you’ve kept your promise not to let one of those evil men sway you ever again. Not one of them ever cared for you like I have. You know I’m right. You belong with me.

  DON’T BE HIM, don’t be him, don’t be him, Holly Frasier intoned as the man rushed into the airplane’s cabin, his tie flapping and sweat dotting his brow. Her heart thrummed in rhythm with the idling engines. Paper crackled as her fists clenched around the in-flight magazine she held but hadn’t looked at.

  Was this the FBI agent who was supposed to have met her yesterday, then hadn’t shown up? He looked too young and disorganized, more like a fresh, eager MBA graduate than a man who made his living sneaking around and packing a gun.

  Holly sat frozen, as if being perfectly still would render her invisible, as he squinted at the seat numbers, paused beside her row, then passed her by.

  Taking her first breath since he’d stepped into the cabin, she looked at her watch. Past time for takeoff. Maybe the agent wouldn’t show. With that thought her neck muscles immediately rel
axed. He’d already missed their wedding.

  After waiting all morning at City Hall in Chicago as instructed, Holly had received a curt phone call from the FBI field office. She was to board her late-afternoon flight back to her hometown of Maze, Mississippi, from Chicago as planned.

  That was it. No explanation. No information about why the FBI agent hadn’t shown up, or even if he would.

  Holly couldn’t decide which was stronger inside her, anger or relief. The two weeks she’d just spent in Chicago had been absolutely miserable. Although she’d done her best to enjoy the physical fitness symposium she’d attended, she hadn’t been able to ignore the spec-tre of the meeting that loomed at the end of the two weeks—a meeting with an FBI special agent who thought someone had killed three men she’d cared about and who was going undercover as her husband to catch the killer.

  Holly wished she’d never shown the notes to her great-uncle, the chief of police of Maze. Virgil McCray had taken one look at them and contacted the FBI. At their request, Uncle Virgil had compiled a file on Holly that detailed the death of her husband six years ago, the disappearance of her fiancé last year, and Detective Danny Barbour’s recent tragic death from an allergic reaction. He’d also sent them photocopies of the three creepy, anonymous notes that had referenced the deaths.

  The flight attendant began closing the overhead compartments. It was time for takeoff and the agent hadn’t shown up.

  Holly’s hopes rose, then quickly fell as another last-minute straggler entered the cabin. This one had a prep cut, a custom-tailored suit and a scowl. She’d hoped her new “husband” would at least be nice. This guy looked like he ate toads for breakfast.

  Don’t be him, don’t be him, she whispered silently, without much hope. He was the television stereotype of an FBI agent. Good suit, bad haircut, a suspicious bulge in his jacket.

  The suspicious bulge beeped, and he pulled out a cell phone and spoke two curt words into it. Then he insisted to the young woman a few rows in front of Holly that she was in his seat.

  Someone came in behind him. Holly had a vague impression of long legs in jeans, and a light-colored sport coat. She tilted her head, trying to get a clearer view. The businessman finally sat down, leaving Holly staring at the blue-jeaned guy. When she met his gaze, her heart lurched and her mouth went dry at the intense glacial gray of his eyes.

  No way was he the FBI agent. He was too casual, too good-looking, too unconventional. Weren’t all FBI agents stamped from the same stiff wing-tipped mold?

  But his eyes were on her and the set of his jaw didn’t go with his casual stance. Dread pooled in the pit of her stomach.

  She squeezed the ruined pages of her magazine. Straightening her back she deliberately returned his scrutiny. He was tall and lean, with broad shoulders tapering to an admirable waistline. As a physical therapist, Holly had a good eye for fitness, and it was obvious the T-shirt under his jacket hid an excellent set of abs.

  He finally broke eye contact, his gaze casually sliding from one face to the next down the rows.

  With a chill, she realized what he was doing. He was checking out all the passengers. She was sure he’d be able to identify each and every one of them later.

  He started down the aisle, shifting his carry-on bag from his right shoulder to his left, his mouth tightening in a brief grimace that he quickly covered. He moved with an offhand grace that fit his clothes better than it fit his knowing gaze.

  She studied him warily as he approached. His face was lean and strong, his beard-shadowed cheeks hollow. Lines creased the corners of his mouth, but they didn’t detract from his dark good looks.

  He turned his gaze back to her as he came closer, and she forgot everything except the ability of those eyes to freeze her in place as completely as a mouse under an eagle’s stare. She lowered her head, pretending to study her magazine, feeling his hot scrutiny like a sunlamp burning the top of her head.

  Don’t be him….

  He stopped directly beside her.

  Holly peered up at him through her lashes.

  Leaning down, he braced his hand on the back of her seat. “Sweetheart?”

  Adrenaline shot through her, leaving her breathless.

  It was him! She’d hoped for pleasant. She’d gotten a predator.

  Her throat wouldn’t work. She couldn’t have spoken if her life depended on it. Licking her lips, she tried to concentrate on drawing air into her lungs.

  “You’re not still mad at me, are you?”

  His voice was low and masculine, and held a note of irony that immediately raised her hackles. His finely shaped mouth turned upward at one corner as his eyes slid over her with that eagle-like intensity.

  She heard a soft chuckle from the passenger in the window seat beside her, and felt her face burn. It was all she could do to shake her head.

  He held her gaze for a beat. Holly could have sworn his icy glare flickered, softened, before he hefted his bag, with a soft grunt, into the overhead bin.

  As he stretched, Holly realized her eyes were on a level with the front of his jeans. The very front of his jeans. They were nice jeans, soft and faded with age, shaped by many washings to fit perfectly on his lean hips and mold his long, muscled thighs.

  Cool it, Hol. She forced herself to pull air into her lungs, trying to maintain objectivity about the muscles hugged by that faded denim.

  He leaned down again and put his mouth near her ear. “Move over to the middle seat.”

  His warm breath against her cheek sent shock waves through her.

  “I don’t—” she started.

  “Now.”

  She moved. He collapsed into the aisle seat, manipulating his seat belt.

  “Thank you,” he said, then leaned back and closed his eyes. A sigh escaped his lips as he relaxed. His arm brushed hers. She leaned slightly away, but his broad shoulders overflowed the tightly packed seats.

  Holly waited for him to tell her who he was, what he was doing and where he’d been all this time. Every second that passed in silence ratcheted up her tension another notch. She gripped the magazine with trembling fingers, giving brief consideration to rolling it up and whacking him to get his attention. Reluctantly, she put it back into the seat pocket.

  Why wasn’t he talking to her? Was this a typical FBI tactic, keep everybody off guard? It sounded like something the FBI would do.

  She studied him impatiently. His straight black hair was tousled as if he’d been running. His unsettling eyes were closed, the long lashes shadowing his cheeks. There was a hint of pallor beneath his tan, and his face looked drawn and tired. Had he been ill?

  A twinge of compassion pricked her, but she strictly admonished herself. She was worrying about him and he hadn’t even bothered to tell her his name.

  Finally she nudged him with her elbow. “Well?”

  He opened one eye to a slit and gave her a sidelong glance.

  She frowned. “Aren’t you going to introduce yourself?” she whispered.

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “Keep—? Look, from your very odd greeting, I assume you’re the FB—”

  Before she could even blink, two warm, callused fingers covered her mouth. He leaned close and she felt his lips move against her cheek as he whispered.

  “Don’t ever say what you were about to say.” He skimmed his finger over her lips and across her cheekbone as he gently kissed the corner of her mouth.

  Holly’s breath stuck in her throat.

  He’d kissed her! Oh my God, he’d kissed her.

  She brushed at her cheek. His mouth was quirked in a slight smile, but his gray eyes held a warning. He raised his brows and nodded toward the woman in the window seat.

  Was he telling her they couldn’t talk? This was not going to work. She couldn’t sit here for hours beside this man who planned on insinuating himself into her life and not even talk to him. She had too many questions.

  What had Uncle Virgil gotten her into?

  Res
isting an urge to throw up her hands in frustration, she decided her only choice was to play along. He’d asked if she was still mad at him. She could easily respond to that.

  “Well, honey,” she said sweetly, “I don’t know where you’ve been, but we need to talk. You’re late. Very late.”

  Beside her, the elderly lady closed her book and leaned closer.

  That irritating smirk stayed on his sexy lips for a heartbeat, then he sighed. “Yeah, we should talk.”

  He touched the arm of a passing flight attendant as a voice over the intercom informed them the plane was backing away from the gate. The attendant leaned down, and he whispered in her ear for a moment.

  Next thing Holly knew, the attendant was sending her a conspiratorial wink and pointing toward the back of the plane.

  “Let’s go.” He got up.

  She had no choice but to follow him.

  The attendant led them to the rear of the plane where the two seats of the last row were empty.

  He gestured for Holly to sit in the window seat.

  “No.” She wasn’t going to let him bully her out of her aisle seat again. “I’d rather have the aisle seat.”

  “I’d rather you sat by the window.”

  She took a deep breath, prepared to stand up for what she wanted, but one look into those icy eyes and she gave up and sat down.

  “What did you tell the flight attendant?” she asked as he settled into the aisle seat.

  “That we hadn’t seen each other in weeks and I wanted some privacy.” He absently rubbed his right shoulder.

  Holly groaned. “And what’s the real reason you moved us back here?”

  “I like my back to the wall.”

  Holly stared at him. “How covert,” she murmured. She leaned toward the window, but still the fabric of his coat brushed her shoulder, an uncomfortable reminder of how close she and this stranger were supposed to be, or at least act.

  Holly doubled her hands into fists on her knees. She was ready for some answers. “Okay, I’ve been in Chicago for two weeks at a seminar that I couldn’t even enjoy because I knew that as soon as it was over I had to meet up with the FB—with you. I am tired, I’m ready to be home. I’ve hardly slept since I got here. And you’re acting like a…a secret agent or something.”