Keeping Her Close. Carol Ross

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Keeping Her Close - Carol Ross Mills & Boon Heartwarming

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      “It’s irrelevant whether I like it.” In fact, he did like it, but that didn’t matter right now. They weren’t going. Did she not comprehend what had happened to her father that very morning? So much about this “plan” of hers was wrong. One element, in particular, was bothering him so he had to ask, “Why would you think I’d want to go out and drink so much beer that I’d need a designated driver?”

      Dark brown eyebrows just a touch darker than her hair dipped in confusion. “Don’t you like beer?”

      Okay. This was too weird. Before he could form a response, the doorbell rang.

      Harper frowned and glanced in that direction.

      “Are you expecting someone?” he asked.

      “Um, no, just you.” She started to move around him like she was going to answer it.

      “Then wait.” Kyle caught her elbow. “I’ll get it.”

      “What, why?”

      “I think that’s obvious.”

      “Not to me.” Blue-gray eyes narrowed in on him as her expression turned thoughtful. “Why would you answer my door?”

      “Because it’s my job,” Kyle returned flatly. “Or it will be soon if you agree to hire me.”

      “You…” She went wide-eyed, and her face lost some of its color. “You, your, job,” she stuttered, before cupping a hand over her mouth. “Oh, no…” More muffled words followed by a groan.

      Kyle shook his head and pulled his phone from his pocket. “What’s the password for your security app? Your dad said you change it weekly.”

      “Of course, you already have the app,” she said in a resigned tone, not about to admit that she never changed it. “It’s chiaroscuro and then the number 282. Chiaroscuro is spelled c-h—”

      “I know how to spell it,” he said, a bit sharper than he’d intended. But a stranger showing up at her door right now was alarming, to him at least. He held up the display for her to view. “Do you know who this man is?”

      “Maybe,” she answered hesitantly, studying the screen with an expression Kyle could only describe as painful. Seriously, what was wrong with her?

      “Maybe,” he repeated, his patience beginning to fray, “is not an answer. Yes or no?”

      “I said maybe.” Her tone held an edge now, like he’d done something to irritate her. But then she sighed, and said, “He, uh… He might be my date.”

      “You don’t know what your date looks like?”

      Her answer was quick and sharp, “Haven’t you ever heard of a blind date?”

      Kyle’s gaze met hers, and he realized then that he’d mistaken embarrassment for irritation. Cheeks splotched with pink. She was grimacing. Understanding dawned, about the odd conversation that had just transpired and her ensuing mortification; she’d mistaken him for her blind date.

      Trying not to allow her discomfort to thaw his concern, he answered, “I’m aware of the concept, yes.” He couldn’t let himself feel sorry for her because why would she be going on a blind date considering the circumstances? It was risky if not downright reckless. Until the police were done investigating the guy who’d tried to attack her father, she needed to lay low. And she needed an education about safety procedures. Dr. Bellaire was right to hire him, or almost hire him.

      The doorbell chimed again.

      “You need to stay here, please,” Kyle stated. He strode toward the door and reached for the handle only to find her hot on his heels. Pulling his hand away, he swiveled toward her, “What part of that did you not understand?”

      “Seriously?”

      He wanted to laugh at this whole unfortunate misunderstanding, except it wasn’t funny. Not really, not when he thought about what could have happened here. So instead, he quirked an eyebrow, trying to find a way to make her understand what she could have conceivably gotten herself into.

      Chin squared, a touch of indignation played on her features. “It’s not necessary to speak to me like that. I don’t care if you are my bodyguard.”

      “You’re right. I apologize. The position is for security consultant, and technically, I’m not even your employee yet.” She was right on more than one level. Not only was it unprofessional, but he also couldn’t let his preconceived notions or his personal concerns about her interfere with his job. He needed to think of this like a mission where emotion had no place. When his apology was met with a distrustful glare, he lifted a consoling hand and tried to smooth his tone. “Listen, Harper, I am sorry. My people skills are a little rusty. I’m used to giving orders. But I promise you, this isn’t some power play on my part. This is about keeping you safe. As I’m sure you’re aware, a man tried to attack your father today, and very likely would have succeeded if I hadn’t stopped him.” He swept a hand toward the door. “I don’t know for sure who this is, and neither do you. Now, would you, please, move away from the door?”

      Her head tilted, her face scrunched thoughtfully, but the meaning seemed to get through to her. “Fine,” she said, nodding and taking a couple of steps back. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

      He pointed. “Waiting in the kitchen would be best. What’s your date’s name?” When she didn’t immediately answer, he added, “You do know that much, I hope?”

      “Yes,” she said with a resigned sigh. “Mikhail.” Then she turned and walked down the hall.

      Kyle opened the door to find a man standing on the porch. He made a quick assessment: thin, medium-height, dark blond freshly trimmed hair that appeared damp. The scent of soap and aftershave suggested a recent shower rather than too much product. His friendly smile and neat appearance contributed to that overall clueless, hopeful first-date air. Kyle relaxed slightly.

      “You must be Mikhail.”

      “Yes, I’m looking for Harper, we—”

      “Harper is going to have to cancel on that date tonight.”

      “Uh, okay, you must be her…?”

      Kyle stared blandly, not about to fall for the old fill-in-the-blank trick. In Kyle’s world, information was divulged on a need-to-know basis.

      “Brother?” the guy finally asked.

      Kyle declined to confirm or deny. Although, he knew Harper was an only child. The only child of a single father who’d raised her on his own from the age of four when his wife, Harper’s mother, had died suddenly after contracting meningitis. He knew this because he’d spent the train ride from Seattle to Portland reading about the Bellaire empire, and the drive from there to the coast reviewing every detail in his mind. But then, both because he could see where this initial meeting between him and Harper had gone wrong and because he felt a tiny bit sorry for the guy, he said, “Harper isn’t feeling well. She’ll call you when she can.”

      Kyle shut the door, locked it and headed to the kitchen where he found Harper staring at a tablet screen. She

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