THE HEART OF A GUARDIAN, BOOK 6
Gary Baldner’s alarm beeped but he didn’t need the reminder.
He had five minutes until Margaret Taylor knocked on his apartment door.
She’d be flush with excitement, ready to tell him her latest travel adventure, and he’d be ready to listen…
and to seduce. Because tonight was the night to move out of the friend zone with her and into being lovers.
Four years ago, he’d had a plan: business school, a million dollars in assets, and then a personal life.
A bad car accident threw a huge wrench into everything.
It wasn’t easy for a paraplegic to get to class, but he’d done it.
And, as of this morning, he’d achieved his million.
So now was the time to focus on a woman.
To be specific? Margaret Taylor, his amazing next door neighbor and best friend for the last two years.
He finished dressing then wheeled through his bedroom space, past the bank of monitors on his right and into the loft area proper.
They lived next door to one another on the top floor of an apartment complex.
Each loft started as a single, big room with a bathroom and an oven.
He’d added his monitors, a bedroom surrounded by curtains, and simple furniture.
It worked for a man in a wheelchair, and every inch of the place was perfect for tonight’s seduction.
He lit the pumpkin spice candles she loved and grabbed the box of her favorite chocolate-covered cashews.
His phone beeped—email—and he scanned spreadsheets on a potential new company.
Strong possibility there, but now wasn’t the time.
Tonight was about Margaret, so he turned off his phone.
Unplugged. That was a new experience, but she was worth it.
He grabbed his water bottle and drained it, wondering why he was so jittery. He was usually cool and collected, ice water in his veins when he risked hundreds of thousands of dollars in a venture capital investment. And yet he was fidgeting like he had ants crawling under his shirt.
Knock, knock.
“It’s Margaret,” she called through the door.
Right on time. Gary pressed the button that mechanically opened the loft door and then waited with growing excitement as she was slowly revealed: Margaret in form-fitting leggings and a printed tunic that looked like firecrackers going off on the sexiest babydoll dress he’d ever seen.
“Happy birthday!” he said as he extended the candy to her.
She gasped as he knew she would and cried, “For me?” Like she hadn’t known he would do this. Then she noticed the Easter lilies waiting for her near the door. “How pretty!”
“They’ll grow in the pot until you’re ready to plant them at your house.”
She arched a brow. “My house? It’ll be years before I can afford one of those.”
Maybe, maybe not. After all, he could afford to buy now, especially if they stayed in Detroit.
Margaret stepped into the loft, and he pressed the button to close and lock the door. He didn’t want any interruptions.
“The place looks amazing,” she said. “Do I smell pumpkin pie?”
“You do. It’s mostly from the candles, but I wouldn’t forget your favorite dessert.”
She flashed him a delighted smile. Her green eyes sparkled as she brushed her blond hair out of her eyes. “And don’t you look spiffy.” Her eyes narrowed. “Do I detect the Iron Man cufflinks I bought you?”
He extended his wrists to let the red metal show. “You do.”
Iron Man was a particular hero of his. He liked the idea of a wealthy genius creating a metal suit to make a normal man incredible.
His personal dream was of metal pants that could super-power his useless lower half.
He didn’t need to fly. Just walk, kick, and have sex like a normal man. Though flying would be cool, too.
All those thoughts slipped away as Margaret set the candy aside.
Kiss time. It was his most anticipated and despised moment of the day.
She stepped toward him and leaned down. It would be a simple greeting.
A press of her lips to his cheek while he fought the urge to cup her face and turn her mouth to his.
It wouldn’t take strength, just perfect timing.
But he knew forcing her would be the epitome of stupid.
Margaret needed to choose things for herself, and she didn’t like surprises.
So he had to gently usher her into thinking of him romantically.
It took iron self-control, and before his accident patience hadn’t been a strong suit. But he’d grown in the last three years, so he inhaled her sunny scent and told himself it was almost time to make his move.
Everything happened in a split second, but in his mind it came and went in slow motion while her scent surrounded him. He felt the heat of her first, tantalizing on his cheek. Her mouth pressed to his dimple. Then it was over. She drew back, still holding the chocolates, and looked to the kitchen.
“Did you seriously cook my favorites?”
Cook was a stretch. Even with all the advances in kitchen appliances it was hard for him to create the kind of meal she wanted. Easy as pie to have it catered. Rather than admit to his culinary failing, he wheeled himself backward so she could cross to the kitchen.
“Turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, green bean casserole, and…”
“Pumpkin pie for dessert.” She grinned and did a little spin. “I get Thanksgiving dinner for my birthday!”
He arched a brow. “It is your—”
“Favorite meal of all time!” She went to the oven, cracked it, and inhaled deeply. “It smells heavenly.”
She looked heavenly, all rosy cheeked beneath the freckles. Her strawberry blond hair fell forward, across her shoulder, and down to curl around a perfect breast. He envied that lock, and he consoled himself with the thought that very soon he would curl his tongue right where—
“Are you hungry?” she asked. “I’m starving.”
He’d known she would be. She always waited to eat until she was back in Detroit and they could do so together.
They’d both been born and raised in Michigan and had come to the big city to help revitalize it.
He picked the neighborhood because the hospital was nearby.
She’d picked her loft because it was close to the airport.
And Fate had put them next door to each other.
“Shall I pour the wine?” The bottle was decanted and the perfect temperature.
“Absolutely.” She frowned. “Though, didn’t your doctor say—?”
He gestured with his chin to the empty water glass by his desk. “I’ve been drinking all day. No dehydration for me. I’m ready for this most perfect pinot noir.”
“Sounds perfect,” she echoed. But even as she said it, she grabbed his empty glass and filled it from the tap. Then she added just the right amount of ice because she’d been doing that for him for over two years now, starting from the day she moved in next door.
She handed it to him at the very moment he extended her wine. They switched and drank, their eyes meeting across the rims of their respective glasses.
“You don’t have to worry,” he said as he set the glass down half empty. “I’ve fully adjusted to using a cath.”
Not sexy. But she’d been the one to find him barely conscious from a pain he couldn’t feel.
Constipation caused by dehydration, coupled with his paralysis, had created a life-threatening problem.
She’d called the ambulance over his objection, and she’d been the one to stand by his side while the doctor chewed him out for a very preventable problem.
He had fallen in love with her that very day.
Not only had she stood by his side through the whole humiliating episode; she’d teased him about it for months afterwards.
In a nice way, of course. It was one thing to be vulnerable and have someone tiptoe around a problem.
His mother was like that, so awkward about his bodily functions that she’d driven them both crazy with her anxious hovering.
Not Margaret. She’d gotten a list of poop and pee jokes from the Internet and had told him one every day until they’d both become comfortable with the issue.
She still sent him good jokes over email when she was traveling.
And her teasing had gotten him through the humiliating adjustment to becoming a paraplegic.
“Well,” she quipped, “if you’re sure you’re properly hydrated—”
“I am.”
“Then drink up!” She poured him a glass of wine.
He wanted her to stay right there, leaning against the counter as they talked, but the moment he took the glass she spun away to grab plates from the low cabinets.
And sure, that meant he got to look at her beautifully curved ass, but the graphic images he had of stepping up behind her were impossible, what with him being unable to stand.
That didn’t stop the fantasy.
“I was going to do that,” he said. “It’s your birthday.”
“I don’t mind. And besides, you like looking at my ass.”
His heart twisted at her statement. This was the crux of their friend-zone problem.
She was so easy with him, all teasing flirtation.
She made jokes about how he liked her legs, her ass, or, hell, her whole damn body.
But that’s all they were: jokes. She never let him touch.
The one time he’d tried—three months ago—she’d blocked his advance with a startled look then found an excuse to leave.
He’d figured out his mistake: he’d surprised her.
She liked things slow, and she liked to see them coming.
And she’d gotten over it. A week later, she’d breezed in like she’d pushed the reset button, all teasing friends again, and he hadn’t pushed again.
That had worked for the next few months, but it wasn’t working for him now.
Every deal he’d ever sealed had a make-or-break moment. Tonight was theirs.
“So, come get your birthday present,” he said, his heart speeding up.
She was laying out place settings, but she paused long enough to tilt her head in another perfect beauty pose. Her smile was sweet, the light hit her eyes enough to dazzle, and even her skin glowed.
“There’s more?”
He folded his arms. “You know there’s more. Quit playing coy.”
She grinned like a mischievous child. “Okay. But let’s wait until after dinner. I’m too hungry to properly appreciate my fabulous present.”
Patience, Gary reminded himself, is the key to success. He could wait until after dinner, though damn his internal engine for revving like he was poised at a starting gate. His heartbeat felt more like a vroom-vroom than a tha-dump. To cover, he went to pull the turkey out of the oven.
“I’ll get it,” she said.
“But I can—”
“I know you can, but I want to present it like in those Norman Rockwell paintings. Mother carries in the turkey while Father waits to carve.” She gestured to the implements by his plate. “Kids and dog eagerly anticipate the meal.”
Margaret was from a broken family and desperately wanted the suburban family fantasy. Gary didn’t have kids or a dog yet, but he could take the place of the father.
“Well, come on then, Donna Reed,” he quipped, referencing the pearl-wearing icon of suburban motherhood. He wheeled up to the table. “Father wants his dinner.”
And something X-rated right after.