Protecting the Bride Read online

  Excellent. The perfect segue to his idea. “I could go with you.”

  Her mouth dropped open in a perfect round. “You. Go with me?”

  Beneath the table, he wrapped his hands into fists while he silently urged himself to keep cool. He forced a shrug. “The flights are internal, and there is no actual security to cause concern. It shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Her brows shot toward her hairline. “But the room is a double.”

  “Do you trust me?” She shouldn’t—not with the acute way he desired her. He’d considered finding a woman to slake his need, but once he’d seen Grace again, the idea held little appeal. “Grace?”

  “Of course I trust you. That goes without saying. I’m thinking. Give me a break.”

  His hands relaxed a fraction as he suppressed a spurt of amusement. He enjoyed Grace’s mouthy retorts.

  “All right. You can come with me to Stewart Island. Pack walking boots and one smart outfit because there is a place that does a special seasonal menu. I booked months ago because they only have a few tables. Other than that, we’ll be fishing, going out after dark to look for kiwis, and hitting the local pub. If that appeals to you, I’d enjoy your company.”

  Cullen didn’t hesitate. “It sounds like my sort of holiday. When do we go?”

  “We scheduled the wedding for Friday and were leaving on Saturday.”

  “It won’t take me long to pack,” Cullen promised. “I’ll do it tomorrow. Do I need to do anything else for the trip?”

  “No, I’ve organized everything, including the airport parking. It’s all prepaid.”

  “We can take my vehicle,” Cullen said. “I might bring my camera. I’ve never seen a kiwi in the wild. We’ve heard them call in places where we’ve trained and seen footprints the next morning, but that’s as close as I’ve managed.” While he wouldn’t push Grace, he wanted her big time, and he wasn’t above a little seduction.

  She wouldn’t know what had hit her by the time he finished.

  The desserts arrived, and the waitress hesitated before setting down the plates.

  “We’re sharing,” Cullen said with a smile.

  “Right. Why don’t I bring spare plates for you?”

  “Please,” Cullen said.

  “I didn’t want dessert. I’ve eaten enough tonight.” She groaned. “That pesto pasta was to die for, and it will go straight to my hips. It’s an occupational hazard. I need to watch my weight. Jeff said—”

  Cullen squeezed her hand. He ignored the zap of awareness, the softness of her skin, and focused on Grace. “This is the last time I’m going to say this because there is nothing worse than a woman going on about her weight. Not everyone is the same build, and we deal with what we get. You are not fat. If that loser you were engaged to thought you were overweight, that is his problem. Not yours.”

  Grace stared at him with her big green eyes, her pink lips parted.

  “Grace?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “If I hear you say you’re fat again, there will be consequences.”

  “Like what?”

  Cullen tapped his nose. “You’ll find out. Believe me, Grace. You’re not overweight. You’re stunning and have an old-time movie star figure full of curves. It’s attractive. You’re gorgeous, and if you’d stop stressing, you’d see I’m right. I’m not the only man who appreciates a woman with curves.”

  He watched her, focusing on her reaction, prepared to say more to make sure she understood. Her eyes grew round again, and she parted those luscious lips of hers. An attractive pink bloomed in her cheeks.

  Tonight, she wore makeup, but she’d kept it light enough for him to discern the freckles across the bridge of her nose. Hell, the men in this suburb must be as blind as the old dog he’d had as a kid if they didn’t see her exceptional qualities.

  “Which dessert would you like to try first?” he asked when she remained silent. He liked her this way, too—soft and glowing and full of wonder. It reminded him of sex. And just like that, tension snapped down his body, darting from his chest to his groin. He smothered a groan and stared at the desserts on the taster plate. “How about the lemon tart?”

  She nodded.

  Cullen broke a bit of the tart off with his spoon and held the morsel to her lips. His heart raced as she closed her mouth around the offering. She pulled back, her eyelids dipping a fraction as she cataloged the tart’s flavors, her baker’s brain analyzing every ingredient. Watching her with food thrilled him because her passion shone through. Her throat worked as she swallowed.

  “That is the best lemon tart I’ve ever tasted. The pastry is crisp and light, while the lemon filling is the perfect blend of sharp and sweet. I can’t wait to try the chocolate brownie now.”

  “My evil plan is working.”

  Grace rolled her eyes and reached for the brownie.

  He edged it out of her reach. “Oh no, you don’t. I want to have some brownie first. Give me a chance to place my verdict. See if my opinion matches yours. I’ve learned a thing or two about food over the years.”

  She giggled. “I used to try out my different muffin flavors when I was babysitting you.”

  “You did.” And he had fond memories of those times. He scooped up a corner of the brownie and placed it in his mouth. He nodded as he tasted the notes of bitter chocolate and savored the combo of the crispy edge and gooey center. “This will meet your approval too, although it’s rich.”

  He offered a spoonful to Grace. She issued a faint hum of appreciation, and Cullen almost moaned himself. Lord, she did it for him.

  “You’re right,” she murmured and reached for a spoon. “I need more of that brownie to make an informed opinion.”

  “Huh!” Cullen said, waving his spoon in the air and pulling the brownie out of her reach at the same time.

  “Stop teasing me.” She tried to sound stroppy, but her breath emerged on a husky note. A suggestion of sexiness that pushed him to imagine the sounds she made during lovemaking. Arousal shot through his body, and he became fiercely glad of the crisp, white tablecloth that hid his lap.

  Cullen drew in a hasty breath and forced himself to calm the hell down. His lack of control galled because he was always steady. Disciplined. It was his thing and a strength in his soldiering.

  “Cullen? Where did you go? You got a weird expression as if you’d smelled something nasty. I thought the brownie was delicious?”

  He cleared his throat. “It is a winner.” With willpower, he pushed aside his reaction and the accompanying confusion. He scooped up a bite of brownie along with whipped cream and held it out to Grace. When she went to accept the spoon from him, he shook his head. “No,” he whispered hoarsely and waited for her to open her mouth.

  Delicate color spread from her cheeks and down her neck, but she didn’t take her gaze from his as she accepted the tidbit. Once again, she savored the dessert, and he watched her analyze the tastes and texture.

  “You’re right,” she announced. “The brownie is exquisite. Which one is next?”

  She and Cullen worked their way through chocolate mousse, tiramisu, crème brûlée, and finally chocolate-dipped strawberries along with sips of strong black coffee.

  “That was delicious. Thank you for ordering the dessert. I wonder if I can speak with the chef.”

  “By the looks of it, they’re still swamped. Despite the late hour, people are still coming in for dinner. Why don’t we grab a business card on the way out? You could give the chef a call once we get back from Stewart Island.”

  “You’re right,” Grace said. “They probably want our table. I can see why this place is so popular. I couldn’t fault a single thing. The food is excellent, the decor perfect, and the service is top-notch.”

  “Why don’t you thank them by writing a review? Do you still have the blog you started during your Best Baker stint?”

  “I do, but I’ve been slack about adding posts. Jeff didn’t—” She broke off with a frown. “Come to
think of it, Jeff had quite a bit to say about my interests and hobbies, although he did it with dollops of charm. Stupidly, I let him boss me around because relationships are about compromise.”

  “They are,” Cullen agreed. “But one part of a relationship shouldn’t need to change everything to please their partner. Not if the change makes little sense, and they can’t understand the why. With something like this, letting your partner boss you around is a bad thing. It sets a precedent for the future.”

  Grace sighed. “All the friends I had in my twenties have married and had children, and we’ve drifted apart. I’m the last singleton. When Jeff started paying attention, I decided it was my last chance for a family. A mistake. One should never settle. Retrospection is a grand thing.”

  She wanted kids, and he could picture them since they were his too. A knot formed in Cullen’s throat, choking his words. This thing with Grace felt as if it was running out of control, yet he couldn’t be sorry. The close call he’d had during his last deployment had changed him, made him consider what he needed to be happy. His mind had gone straight to Grace.

  That was sign enough, and spending time with Grace again had only cemented his thoughts into a plan. Now his mission was to seduce the stubborn woman to his way of thinking, and tonight had been an excellent start.

  6

  CONFRONTATION

  During the trip home, Grace and Cullen discussed the restaurant, their meal, and other easy topics, the vehicle’s dim interior leading an intimacy to their journey. A faint edginess assailed Grace. Probably residual annoyance at Jeff and the sense of lingering betrayal.

  Cullen indicated a left turn. “My idea is to knock out some internal walls to make the place more open plan. What do you think?”

  “I’ve considered the same thing,” Grace said, seizing on the topic. “But I take a while to make important big decisions like that. I mean, what if I didn’t like the result? Then, Jeff and I talked. He wanted me to sell and for us to get a more modern place. I won’t sell—not now that Jeff has stolen my money.” She shrugged. “It’s not as if I have time for a major renovation, anyway. My job keeps me busy.”

  “Well, I don’t mind acting the Guinea pig. Our places are mirror images since the same builder constructed them. What the hell?”

  Three cars had parked near her and Cullen’s driveways. Two men battled for her mattress while Jeff and another man fought over rights to one of his many leather jackets.

  Cullen pulled into his driveway, and they exited his vehicle, their gazes on the sidewalk action. The automatic light came on, giving them a much better view.

  Grace stared as Jeff screeched at the thin man in jeans and a holey T-shirt who still gripped the jacket with a bulldog tenacity.

  “It’s mine, you idiot,” Jeff shouted. “I didn’t throw it out. I have no idea what it’s doing out here.”

  “There’s not much of his gear left,” Cullen murmured.

  The larger of the two men fighting for the mattress got the upper hand and dragged his spoils away. While he struggled to tie it to the roof of his vehicle, the loser stomped to his car and roared off, gunning his engine as he sped down the residential street.

  It was then Jeff noticed Grace’s arrival. With a Herculean effort, he gained possession of his jacket and stormed in her direction. Grace backed up half a step, relieved when she discovered Cullen’s heat at her back.

  “You crazy bitch. Why did you throw all my stuff outside? I tried the door, but my key won’t work.”

  “That’s because I changed the locks,” Grace said sweetly. “You’re not welcome in my home.”

  “We’re getting married tomorrow,” he snapped.

  “Like hell we are,” Grace retorted. He was the crazy one, not her. If he calmly cheated on her now, he’d do it again without a care. That wasn’t the life she wanted for herself.

  Trust. Respect. A partnership.

  She’d thought she’d had that with Jeff. Obviously not. He didn’t even have the grace to apologize or show remorse for his cheating. This Jeff bore no resemblance to the captivating man from the heady first days and weeks of their relationship. The changes in him had taken place gradually, and she’d failed to notice—until now.

  Grace stormed forward two steps and jabbed Jeff in the chest with her forefinger. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth. Where is my money?”

  He averted his gaze until she poked him in the chest again.

  “You withdrew fifty-five thousand dollars from the joint account. If you don’t return it, I’m going to the cops.”

  “I borrowed it,” he said hurriedly.

  “You didn’t mention it. Don’t you think it was manners to at least discuss it with me?”

  “Grace, you’re being silly. This is a misunderstanding.”

  She gaped at Jeff for a few seconds, speechless—absolutely speechless—at his effrontery. “A misunderstanding,” she mouthed.

  Julia hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. Their naked bodies in her bed. Fury ripped through her, and she curled her fingers into fists. “I can’t believe you. You moron! I refuse to forgive you for fucking the neighbor two days before our wedding!” She punched Jeff in the chest, the force of the blow reverberating up her forearms. Her third punch struck air because Jeff took a backward step. She would’ve chased him, but Cullen’s hands curled around her shoulders, drawing her back.

  “That’s enough,” Cullen murmured in her ear.

  Heat filled her cheeks—part anger and part mortification because she’d struck out in a rage. Hitting someone was wrong.

  “Do that again,” Jeff said with a snarl, “And I’ll punch back.”

  “It’s time for you to go,” Cullen told him. “What’s left of your gear is there. There is nothing remaining in the house. Take your possessions and leave. Grace wants nothing more to do with you.”

  “Who the fuck are you?” Jeff demanded, temper etched into his round face.

  “Grace’s friend,” Cullen replied.

  “You’re sleeping with him,” Jeff spat. “You have the gall to castigate me—”

  “Cullen is my friend. I’ve known him for years,” Grace spat. “Just leave before you make an even bigger idiot of yourself.”

  “Bitch,” Jeff muttered and stomped off to gather up the mess of clothes and possessions littering the footpath. He picked up an empty suitcase and shouted, “You were useless in bed, anyway.”

  “I am not!” Grace retorted.

  Cullen placed a heavy hand on her shoulder and squeezed in a warning. “Don’t engage with him. Let’s have a nightcap at my place. I don’t want you on your own while he’s here.”

  “He wouldn’t hurt—” She broke off and considered the way he’d slept with Julia. He’d threatened that he’d punch her back. He would injure her and think nothing of it.

  “Thank you,” Grace mumbled.

  Cullen curved an arm around her waist and guided her to his front door. After unlocking it, he said, “You go inside and pour us a brandy or a whisky. I have both in the pantry. You know where I keep the glasses. I’ll park my vehicle in the garage. I don’t want Jeff to get a wild hair and decide to trash my SUV.”

  “Sure, I’ll see you inside.” Grace started trembling the moment she stepped indoors. She’d never seen Jeff so angry, with fury making his brown eyes flash. His hands had balled into fists, and she’d made things worse by hitting him. Shame filtered through her because that was so out of character for her.

  In the kitchen, she opened the pantry and located Cullen’s booze supply. She grabbed the nearest bottle and filled two balloon goblets with a healthy splash of brandy. With a brandy in hand, she claimed a seat in the lounge to wait for Cullen. She kicked off her shoes and wriggled her toes.

  The front door opened and closed, and she heard the distinct clunk of the lock engaging. Cullen strode into the lounge seconds later.

  “Lots of weird people around tonight,” he said, sinking onto the couch b
eside her.

  “Weird like how?” Grace asked with a frown. During the last month, she’d spotted a homeless man wandering along the street, which had been unusual enough to make her stare.

  “Like druggies,” Cullen said, his tone blunt. “Either that or they were drunk.”

  “Maybe they heard about the free stuff stacked on the footpath,” Grace said, and guilt writhed through her. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  “If you’d waited for the loser to collect his gear, he might’ve never budged,” Cullen countered. “Don’t let it worry you. He messed up, not you.” He sipped his brandy. “You should stay here tonight rather than go home. The idiot is still out there, piling his stuff into a vehicle.”

  Grace rose to go to the window.

  “Not with the light on,” Cullen warned. “Everyone will see you. Try the kitchen window. You might see what is going on from there.”

  She heeded the warning to retrace her steps and hover in darkness in the kitchen. Cullen stepped up behind her, and they both peered outside.

  “What is he doing?” Grace asked.

  “It’s hard to say,” Cullen said. “It’s not the best view from here. Let’s get back to our brandy. We’ve wasted enough time on the idiot today.”

  “Excellent point.” Grace raised her goblet. “To our holiday on Stewart Island.”

  “To Stewart Island.” Cullen shot her a glance. “I know why you picked Stewart Island, but it seems out of character for the loser. Just in the short time I’ve seen him, he seems more the resort type.”

  “I thought we weren’t talking about Jeff again.”

  Cullen pulled a face. “Difficult given the circumstances.”

  “I kept asking Jeff where he wanted to go, but he was busy, so I made an executive decision. To be honest, he didn’t gush with enthusiasm when I told him where I’d booked. He’s not the outdoor type, but I figured since I paid for the holiday, I should have a greater input.”

  “Out of interest, what did the moron pay for?”

  Grace wrinkled her nose. “Nothing. As I said, he was busy with work and away overseas on business trips. He told me to pay for everything, and we’d sort it out later.”