A droll look crossed James’s face. “Didn’t you say this woman is a friend of the Worthingtons? They’re very good clients.”
James stood and rounded the desk, halting to put a hand on Don’s shoulder. “You’ll do fine. You’re a professional. Though I must say it’s entertaining to finally see you a little flustered.”
Don opened his mouth to protest, but James was already walking toward the door.
“I’d like to meet Ms. Tully and assure her you’ll be taking her case,” James said before exiting.
Don sat for a moment, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. He’d come to James’s office intending to have someone else assigned to Caroline. For both their sakes.
Too bad his plan backfired. Big time.
Caroline glanced toward the staircase Don had quickly ascended. Would he take her on as a client?
Seeking help from Don had seemed like such a good idea when she was in the hospital yesterday, but now… The instant she’d seen him, she’d been flooded with overwhelming relief and something else—something close to a coming-home feeling that both astounded and confused her. She barely knew him, yet it had taken all her strength not to sink to the floor in a heap of relief beneath that big beautiful Christmas tree as soon as he came near. It was almost like a part of her knew she could relax, that she was safe with him. How strange to feel such trust for a man, especially one she barely knew. But now that he’d walked away, fear was returning.
She clasped her hands tightly together to still the evidence of the tremors racing along her limbs.
For so many years, she’d hoped and prayed that she’d someday find her family. But now her dream was turning into a nightmare. Who wanted her dead, and why? Was she truly in danger from her newfound family? How could she possibly face it without Don by her side?
Don appeared pretty much as she remembered. The same honey-blond hair cut short around his ears and collar and a little longer on top. Same tall, muscular frame that made him look like he could carry the weight of the world and not be bothered by the load. The dove-gray sweater he wore so well emphasized his broad shoulders.
His eyes drew her in as before, too. Inviting liquid pools of teal reflecting the firelight from the hearth.
She wanted to melt into his gaze and forget the past few days. Not a good idea. She wasn’t looking for a romance, had no intention of putting her heart at risk again. Even with Don, a man whom she hadn’t been able to forget this past year. She only needed Don to protect her.
Acutely aware of the throbbing in her temples and the ache in her back from the blast slamming her into the wall the previous day, she shifted gingerly against the sofa’s rich chintz fabric covering and focused on her surroundings rather than her pain. Crown molding, high-quality furniture and an understated color scheme in muted rose and greens created a pleasing atmosphere in the waiting room. The Christmas tree added a nice, homey touch and the fresh scent of pine. She liked the warm and comfortable feel of Trent Associates. She hadn’t really been sure what to expect, since she’d never been here.
Or hired a bodyguard. She could barely believe she was hiring one now. But she knew it wouldn’t be safe to go to Mississippi alone. Honestly, it probably wasn’t safe to go to Mississippi at all—but she wasn’t going to let that stop her.
She’d been truthful when she’d told Don she didn’t want Mr. Maddox’s money. At least not for herself—her dress boutique had a booming business despite the troubled economy. There were charities she supported that could use the funds.
But learning more about her birth mother and the family whose DNA she shared was important to her. She had so many unanswered questions.
It wasn’t that she didn’t love her parents—the older couple who’d adopted and raised her. She loved them with every fiber of her being.
But a part of her had always felt out of place. Her dark hair and olive complexion made it obvious she didn’t belong in a statuesque family of Swedish descent. She was the odd duck, the outsider. Though she never questioned her adoptive parents’ love for her, she’d always longed for a more basic sense of connection.
The front door opened and two women walked in, distracting Caroline from her thoughts. The tall brunette, her hair slicked back into a French twist, wore a sleek black coat and knee-high black, low-heeled boots. The very picture of sophistication. In contrast, the other woman had a wild head of blond curls and a very animated face. Plus, she was tiny. Even more petite than Caroline. Her clunky bright pink snow boots made squishy noises on the hardwood floor as the two women walked past and disappeared down the hall.
More bodyguards? Okay, the dark one looked the part, maybe. But the other? She looked more like a kindergarten teacher.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs. Caroline lifted her gaze, hoping for Don’s return, but instead a well-dressed man, closer to fifty, approached. Though not nearly as tall as Don, there was nothing diminutive about him. His craggy face showed a life well lived. A quiet strength inspiring trust emanated from him as he sat beside Caroline on the sofa. He stuck out his hand. “Ms. Tully, I’m James Trent.”
Bemused and impressed that the man behind the name of the company was seeing her personally, she slipped her hand into his. “Mr. Trent.”
He covered her hand in a fatherly gesture. She suddenly longed for her parents, the people who loved her. She didn’t go home to New Hampshire nearly often enough. She vowed to make a better effort to spend time with her mother and father.
“Don explained your situation,” James said. “I have every confidence in his ability to keep you safe.”
The tension inside of Caroline eased. Don would be her bodyguard. She’d be safe in his care. She felt almost light-headed with gratitude.
Don stepped into the room. His features that moments ago had shown compassion and kindness were now as hard as granite. His square jaw looked firm, his blue-green eyes watchful, but guarded.
She tilted her head, unsure why he’d become so cool.
Then she noticed he’d put on a shoulder holster. It held a big, black gun against his left side. A shiver tripped over her.
“I’ll escort you to Mississippi, Ms. Tully,” Don said.
Ms. Tully? Was he kidding? Her gaze darted to Mr. Trent. Was Don acting so weird and formal because of his boss? “Thank you, Mr. Cavanaugh. Mr. Trent.”
Trent patted her hand before rising from the sofa. “Don’t worry, Ms. Tully. You’ll be well protected.”
“I know,” she murmured, her gaze on Don.
Don inclined his head in deference to his boss as the man left the room. Then he turned to her, his expression still hard and unreadable. Mr. Trent was gone, so why was Don still being so distant?
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
“With the Burkes,” she replied. Kristina and her homicide-detective husband, Gabe, had been adamant she stay in their guest bedroom until the investigation was over. She’d gratefully accepted.
“We have a lot to arrange before we head south.”
