A Bodyguard for Christmas
Donna Young
MILLS & BOON
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Table of 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 Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
DONNA YOUNG, an incurable romantic, lives in beautiful Northern California with her husband and two children.
To Ray & Geri, Steve & Debbye, Mike & Sheila, Terry & Janice, Trish & Ed, Matt & Robbie. For your humor, love and immense support, I love you guys!
Timothy Severs was wired.
Cocaine-wired.
The shock sent his heart into overdrive, pumping blood until it sizzled and snapped in his veins. A high-pitched hum set his teeth grinding, his muscles twitching.
A split second later, euphoria hit. And with it, the rush of confidence, the heightened senses, the understanding he could live forever.
Ironic really, considering his plans for the day.
Using his finger, he rubbed the excess white powder over his gums, then clicked his tongue against the numbness.
He could have done the line in his apartment before coming to work that morning. But the prospect of snorting coke under Big Brother’s eye added a sharp, seductive edge to his buzz.
Unhurried, he flipped the latch open and stepped out of the bathroom stall. A quick glance told him he was alone.
With a laugh, he leaned over the sink and adjusted his tie in front of the beveled mirror. He was not an attractive man, with glazed, bulging eyes of watery blue and a receding hairline. Small, red splotches appeared on his pale, slightly pitted skin, betraying his drug habit, which he tried to hide beneath a thin layer of makeup.
He washed his hands, ignoring the slight tremor in his fingers when he grabbed a nearby paper towel. Well, his reputation was about to change.
The only child of David Severs, a prominent Supreme Court Justice, Timothy had been expected to continue the tradition of law in his family. But a drug bust and the accidental overdose of an underage girl—the daughter of a senator—in his dorm room, created a scandal that even his family’s connections couldn’t cover up.
But with his father’s help, Timothy eventually secured an assignment as junior aide to an obscure British attaché. He should be grateful, his father lectured. After all, Timothy had thrown away a promising future. And for what? His father demanded. Sex? Drugs?
Nothing wrong with either, Timothy mused. After a final check in the mirror, more for vanity than necessity, he opened the restroom door and stepped into the hallway.
“Mr. Severs?”
Timothy jumped, slightly startled by the hand on his shoulder. He turned, noting the marine’s uniform more than the man wearing it. With short cropped hair and flat, heavy-boned features, the soldier stood a good six inches over Timothy’s five-nine frame.
“Yes?” Timothy demanded, taking a deliberate moment to scan the battle-scarred lines and leathery skin before dismissing the man to look at the name badge on the soldier’s chest. “Cooper.”
The soldier’s eyebrow rose. “I was instructed to tell you that your new chair has arrived,” Cooper said quietly, but a sickle-shaped scar on his cheek flexed with the tightening of his jaw.
The chair. Excitement caught in Timothy’s chest, but he managed to keep his features schooled. “Good,” he replied, his tone arrogant. With a dismissive wave, he continued down the hallway to his office.
The
