Chapter 5
FIVE
“Really, Cormac, I can take my own car to the Expo—” Lucy had to cut herself off as she huffed, her short legs struggling to keep up with Cormac’s long strides.
He loaded yet another box of samples into the back of an Elite Security van. “When was the last time you got that thing serviced?”
She planted her hands on her hips. The man was insufferable. “Exactly when the sticker on my window told me to.”
He pursed his lips. “Letting us drive decreases the risks associated with arrival and departure.”
They faced off beside the van, two immovable objects blasting each other with the full force of their will. Only one would win.
Spring was stretching its arms all around them, with the fresh scents of earth and clean air dancing on the cool breeze. It was a beautiful day in early May, with the town in full bloom.
And Lucy wasn’t happy.
It was bad enough that Cormac had just informed her that he would be the one in the booth with her all day, instead of positioning himself at the exit. After he’d visited her at home, her brain had decided to keep repeating what he’d said about her being attractive. Was he choosing to be in the booth because he liked her? Did he want to keep her close?
He’d come over on Monday, and it was now Saturday, and her thoughts had drifted to Cormac with alarming frequency all week. When her computer had pinged with an email from him a couple of days before, her heart had sped up so much her smartwatch had thrown up an alert. The message was entirely business-related, with a detailed plan for the day of the Wedding Expo, which made Lucy feel pathetic and embarrassed.
She’d leaned on the hope that he’d station himself near the exit and Sam would be in the booth with her all day.
But it wasn’t so.
She’d have to spend the next ten hours standing three feet away from big, bad Cormac. It was going to be a disaster. She was nervous enough without the thought of a gigantic, beautiful, overprotective man watching over her.
She would not be stranded at the Expo without her own vehicle. The man made her loopy, and she needed a way to escape.
Now she’d trotted after him as he transferred all her samples to his van, a pathetic little puppy, and was facing him with all the strength she could muster.
“Cormac, I am driving myself and that’s final.” She karate-chopped the air for emphasis.
Cormac merely grunted, breaking their stare-off, then crossed the lot to rip open her back door to look for more boxes. Finding none, he moved to the passenger door. Lucy scowled at his broad back and didn’t immediately notice when he froze.
Cormac stood, stepping aside to point at the seat. “What’s that?”
Lucy glanced at the item on the passenger seat, feeling stupid. She’d made a stop at Camilla’s bakery, The Sweetest Thing, that morning. She’d had to go early before the hordes of slobbering regulars picked Camilla’s display cases clean. “That’s a box of donuts, Cormac.”
He blinked. “Oh. Right.”
She scowled at him and reached down to pick up the box. “I got them for you and Sam, to say thank you for helping me out today.” She opened the lid to reveal the dozen gleaming, sugary treats.
A new expression crossed Cormac’s face, one that Lucy had never seen before. Surprise? Gratitude? Desire? Whatever it was, it looked good on him, and Lucy was reminded of why she’d picked the donuts up in the first place. She loved peering beneath the shell he wrapped so tightly around himself. She loved getting glimpses of the real him. The man behind the overbearing obnoxiousness.
She extended the box toward him, feeling charitable.
Then he went and ruined it by opening his big mouth. “Paying the invoice is usually thanks enough.”
“I see,” Lucy said through clenched teeth.
He jerked his hand back when she snapped the lid closed on his fingers like he was Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman , except without the uproarious laughter and the fabulous red dress.
“No donuts for you!” Lucy sniffed, cradling the box near her body. She spun around and used her sweetest voice to say, “Sam, would you like a donut?”
Sam flicked his gaze between Lucy and Cormac, hesitated for a brief moment, then shrugged and took one of the rings of deliciousness.
Cormac’s eyes narrowed. He watched as she placed the box back on the passenger seat and closed the car door. That itch between her shoulder blades was back.
“You’re a strange woman,” he told her, which was true.
“Nice people get donuts,” she proclaimed, then pointed at him. “Bossy men who commandeer my business samples and then insult my good deeds get nothing.” She karate-chopped again. “Nothing!”
He lifted a brow in response. The sun shone on Cormac’s tawny skin, lightening the usually deep blue of his eyes.
He was intolerably handsome. She should never have hired him.
“All I need is for you to watch my back while I schmooze my way to new clients today. It’ll be very boring, I promise. Now,” she said, drawing on every scrap of confidence to withstand the power of his stare, “I’m going to drive myself to this conference, and you will follow in your van. Got it?”
They locked gazes for a long moment. Lucy practically trembled with the effort of it.
She hated the nearly superhuman effort it took for her to stand up for herself. She absolutely despised the part of her that wanted to wilt beneath his gaze. She wanted to feel strong, for once. Her car might have some rust around the edges, but it was hers, paid for with the stationery she’d sold to countless happy couples. She would drive herself to the Wedding Expo and drive herself back, and she would make sure this event grew her business the way she’d intended last year.
She would be successful , despite her previous failures. She wouldn’t move back in with her parents, even if they were loving and supportive.
Lucy couldn’t live her life like a trembling, terrified little mouse anymore. She couldn’t bear it. It was ridiculous, but caving to Cormac’s demands and letting him drive her to the event in his van felt like a loss. It felt like she was already giving up and letting other people deal with her problems. She needed to prove to herself—to the world—that no one could scare her. Not even a tall, broad, stupidly hunky bodyguard.
She didn’t even like muscular men! What was wrong with her!
As the seconds ticked by, Lucy began to sweat. A familiar anxiety crept through her bones, trying to grind them to dust. She would crack under the strain, just like she always did. This was just one event among many where she let the pressure get to her.
Then, all of a sudden, Cormac tore his gaze away from hers. He jerked his chin at Sam, who nodded at the unsaid command and got behind the wheel of the van.
Lucy watched the exchange as the van’s engine turned over, and elation filled her like a helium balloon.
She’d won. She’d won! Buoyed, Lucy lifted her chin. “Good.” Then, because she couldn’t leave well enough alone, she added, “ You work for me , buddy.”
Cormac’s dark, dangerous eyes tracked her as she circled her own car and got behind the wheel. As she clipped her seatbelt, she did a little wiggle of victory to settle into the driver’s seat. She’d stood her ground! She did it!
All she’d won was the ability to drive herself to her own work conference, but still. Her victory tasted sweet, like a donut glazed to a mirror sheen, and as she slid the key into the ignition, she couldn’t help the smirk that graced her lips.
Then the passenger door opened, and the smile died.
Cormac picked the box of donuts up, sat down, and placed the box on his lap. Then he closed the door, clipped himself in, and glanced at her expectantly.
“What are you doing?”
Instead of answering, Cormac shifted his gaze to the box of donuts. He lifted the lid and perused the selection.
“Don’t you dare,” she gritted out.
He plucked a glazed donut from the box and held it up for inspection.
“If you eat that thing, so help me?—”
Cormac bit into the donut, raining little bits of glaze onto his lap. Lucy gasped in abject horror. He let out a deep grunt as he chewed, and Lucy, shamefully, felt a tendril of heat flare to life below her belly button. He turned to glance at her, leaning an elbow on the center console. His black polo was tight around his arms and shoulders, and he looked far too big to fit in her small car.
Holding her gaze, he took another bite of the donut, challenging. His eyes were dark and steady as they watched her. His tongue darted out to pick up a bit of sugar on his lip. He closed his eyes for a beat as he swallowed, then glanced at the donut in his hand as if to strategize where he’d take his next bite.
“Un-be-frickin’- lievable !” Lucy’s jaw wouldn’t close as she watched him eat that donut like he was making love to it. Heat swept through her, but it wasn’t desire. Or rather, it wasn’t only desire. It was the bitter heat of outrage mixed with a healthy dose of lust.
Donut consumed, Cormack licked his fingers with a smack, then glanced at the box again.
“If you eat another donut, I’ll never speak to you ag—” Another gasp tore through her. “You man-bastard!”
That made him stop. “Man-bastard?” He arched a dark brow at her, the filling of his Boston cream donut oozing dangerously out of its pastry prison.
“I said what I said. Man. Bastard .”
He licked the cream. Lucy used her indignation to excuse the flush in her cheeks, then reached over to snatch the box from his lap. Twisting uncomfortably, she deposited the box of donuts on the back seat which Cormac had so helpfully cleared only a moment ago.
And the man began to laugh . He held the decimated remains of the chocolate-covered, custard-filled donut in his hand and leaned his head against the headrest, deep, rolling laughter making his shoulders shake.
“I don’t see what’s so funny,” Lucy muttered darkly.
“You are, Lucy.”
“I regret every good deed I’ve ever done.”
He ate the rest of the donut and said, “That was delicious. Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, Camilla’s a genius,” she grumbled.
“How did you know to get donuts?”
Lucy turned the key in the ignition and took a deep breath to calm herself down. It was ridiculous to be simultaneously outraged and attracted to a donut-stealing man-bastard. The car rumbled to life, and she checked to make sure her mirrors were adjusted correctly. Finally, she felt calm enough to respond. “I saw you look at the box in your office kitchen when we met to discuss the job the first time. You looked disappointed when you saw it was empty.”
There was a long pause, and it wasn’t until Lucy was stopped at a red light that she glanced over to see Cormac frowning as he stared through the windshield.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
He looked over. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”
The light turned green, so Lucy drove on.
Everything wasn’t fine. Cormac’s thoughts whirled around him, and he found himself unable to untangle them. She’d noticed his facial expression when they’d first met at the office. It couldn’t have been obvious. People always told him he was hard to read—it was one of the things that made him a good bodyguard. Nothing could faze him.
But Lucy had seen right through him.
That was a problem. She was too close. It could get in the way of him doing his job.
What was an even bigger problem was that he liked how easily she saw him—the real him. That she’d gone out of her way to bring him a treat this morning made his chest feel warmer than usual.
He could feel it rising within him—an unstoppable tide of protectiveness. Suddenly, his nerves stretched tight. This wasn’t just another bodyguard job; it was Lucy’s body he’d be guarding. Nothing would happen to her on his watch. No sabotage, no injury, not even a single paper cut.
Cormac would make sure of it.
Decision made, he settled back in his seat—but his eye caught on a bit of gold-embossed paper stuffed into Lucy’s cupholder. Pulling it out, he found one of the name cards from Marlon and Camilla’s wedding. It had Lucy’s name on it, but the gold writing had been crossed out with red pen so violently that the indentations from the pen marks went through both sides of the folded card.
He flipped the card open. They’d all been blank to begin with, but this one had the words “I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING” scrawled in the same red pen inside.
Cormac’s body went solid. Through clenched teeth, he asked, “What’s this?”
Lucy glanced over and her eyes went wide. “Oh. I found that on my windshield after Camilla’s wedding.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Don’t talk to me like that.”
He took a deep breath. “This is a threat, Lucy. I need to know about these things.”
They were approaching the Gladstone Hotel, where the Wedding Expo would be held. Vendors’ vehicles lined one side of the parking lot, with more vans and cars stopped at the lights leading to the parking lot. The event would be packed.
Lucy kneaded the steering wheel. “I forgot, okay? It freaked me out a bit that night, but then I thought ‘I know what you’re doing’ was kind of a lame thing to write. Juvenile, like a kid trying to come up with a threat. And then it just slipped my mind.”
“Did Phillips do this?”
They stopped behind a van branded with a wedding dress shop’s logo, waiting to turn into the hotel lot. Lucy glanced at the card, then at Cormac. “I don’t know. Probably.”
“What does it mean? What are you up to?”
“No idea.”
“Lucy.” Cormac inhaled sharply. His voice had been too harsh.
Lucy lifted her hands so only the edges rested on the wheel. “I don’t know what it means! What am I doing? I sell wedding stationery and hang out at my apartment for, like, twenty-three hours a day. How could anyone be threatened by that?”
Cormac wanted to crumple the card in his fist. He’d seen her find this threat two weeks ago, and he’d had no idea. Fire burned down the back of his throat. What if something had happened?
Someone had been at Marlon’s wedding. They’d taken Lucy’s name card specifically, scratched out her name with red pen, and written a clear threat.
“If you get any more threatening messages, you tell me right away, Lucy.”
“Fine.”
“That means immediately. Not the next day,” he said and held up the card, “and not two weeks later. You tell me the minute it happens.”
She frowned at him. “Sure. Okay.”
Jaw clenched, Cormac slid the card into his breast pocket and then forced himself to relax. They drove into the lot in silence. He directed her to a spot near the exit. If they needed to make a quick getaway, he wanted to be able to get her out of here.
When the engine was off, Lucy met his gaze. “You seem stressed,” she noted. “Would you like a donut to make you feel better?”
This woman was going to drive him insane. He unhooked his jaw and growled, “No, Lucy, I don’t want a donut to make me feel better.”
Her eyes sparkled. She enjoyed needling him, and she was damn good at it. Impossible woman.