Wyatt (7 Brides for 7 Soldiers #4) Read online

  “Fluffy isn’t very masculine, is it, Spike?” he asked the cat. Blue eyes blinked up at him. Spike yawned, showing long white teeth.

  “He doesn’t have any balls. Masculine means nothing to him,” Paige said.

  “Damn, girl, you had his balls cut off?”

  “He’s happier without them, I assure you.”

  Wyatt snorted. “I bet he’d be pretty damn happy with them.”

  Paige shook her head. “Men.”

  Wyatt squatted down to pet the cat. “I don’t know what she means by that, buddy, but I’m on your side. Us men have to stick together.”

  The cat basked in the attention, rolling to his back and exposing his belly. Wyatt started to reach for the silky fur when Paige made a tsking sound.

  “I wouldn’t. He’ll claw you silly if you do.”

  Wyatt hesitated. “Really? He looks like he wants a belly rub.”

  “He doesn’t, believe me.”

  Wyatt gazed at Spike. “And here I thought we were starting to like each other,” he told the creature before getting to his feet. Spike flipped over and trotted to Paige, performing the same act on her legs. Traitor.

  “How’s Mama’s Fluffy Boy? Has he been an angel?”

  “If you call doing nothing except sleeping being an angel, then yeah, he’s been an angel.”

  Paige cooed to the animal. “Oh, I knew Mama’s boy was a good boy. Isn’t that right?”

  “Do you have Spike on the show with you?”

  Paige looked up. “His name is Fluffy. Stop calling him Spike.”

  She was kind of cute when she was annoyed.

  “Or what?”

  She blinked—and then her jaw firmed in resolution. “I’ll give you a bad review on whatever site people review bodyguards on. You’ll never work again.”

  She stuck her nose in the air, but the trembling at the corners of her mouth said she wasn’t serious.

  “Bullshit.”

  “You’re right, I won’t type up a review. I’ll just tell everyone who asks me for a bodyguard recommendation not to use you.”

  “I’m not worried.”

  “You should be. I’ve been asked precisely zero times for bodyguard recommendations. I could devastate your career.”

  He snorted. Why’d she have to be so cute? “Thought so.” He nodded at the cat. “Is he on the show or what?”

  She straightened. Fluffy—since she insisted on the name—jumped onto the back of the couch and settled down near where she stood. He kinda crushed the cushion though.

  She ran a hand through his silky fur. “It’s a reality show. The cameras follow me around—yes, he’s been on when they’ve been in my apartment.”

  Wyatt shook his head. “Why would you let a group of people into your home to film your life? It’s a pretty big invasion of privacy, isn’t it?”

  “It is. I had hoped it would take me places though.”

  “Take you places? You’re already rich. What more could you want?”

  She looked away, and he thought maybe he’d crossed a line somewhere.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “Don’t answer that.” Because he understood that some things weren’t meant to be discussed.

  “No, it’s okay.” She leaned a hip against the back of the couch while she petted Fluffy. “I want to be a brand. Like Paris Hilton. I want to call my own shots. And…”

  “What?”

  “I love clothes,” she said, looking suddenly fierce.

  As if she expected him to argue with her. He wouldn’t dream of it though. Not right now when she seemed so passionate.

  “I love seeing how clothes transform people. Especially women who lack confidence. I want to design a line of clothing that helps women put together stylish outfits that are also affordable. That’s the problem, you see. Women walk into a store and they have no idea what goes with what or how to put it all together—or what sizes to choose since everything varies so much. If they’re lucky, there’s a good sales associate to help. If they aren’t lucky, someone will ask them if they need help finding something and then walk away when they say no. Women don’t know how to shop, and they get overwhelmed by choices.”

  Okay, so he had to admit he was a little speechless. He hadn’t expected that to come out of her mouth. He hadn’t expected she thought of anyone other than herself and her cat.

  “So why not skip the show and go straight to the clothes designing?”

  “I don’t have that kind of money. My father has the money—and he’s not going to bankroll a venture like this. I want to do it myself. I want to use my popularity from the show to seize on ventures of my own. No one will bankroll you when you’re a nobody. When you have name recognition and a giant viewership? They want to cash in on it, so they’ll sign on. I want to take advantage of that and build my empire.”

  She surprised him. Far from being the idle rich, this woman had drive and big plans. He wouldn’t have thought so just a few hours ago.

  “I’m sure you’re going to get what you want,” he said. “It’s just going to take time.”

  “I hope you’re right.” She didn’t look convinced.

  “You know what we say in the SEALs?”

  She shook her head.

  “The only easy day was yesterday. It’s always a shit show, princess. Every day you pick yourself up and you do the best job you can. You keep on going because the alternative sucks. You fight for what you want. And you keep fighting until you get it.”

  “I don’t intend to quit.”

  He grinned. “Then you’re already halfway there.”

  Chapter 8

  By midmorning, Paige was bored. She wasn’t the kind of person to sit around doing nothing, so all this idleness was killing her. She tried reading a book. Tried watching television. She surfed the web, reading fashion blogs, and she did some sketches of ideas she had for a few outfits.

  But it wasn’t enough. She was accustomed to a frenetic pace in the city, especially with American Princess. She had meetings with her agent, meetings with the studio, and pitch meetings with fashion executives.

  And when she wasn’t doing all that, she was in front of the cameras, hanging out with the four other princesses and generally being as outrageous as she could be. She’d known going into it that she had to shine. She wasn’t the prettiest one—that honor fell to Lily Ashwood, her best friend, but Lily was quiet and not likely to draw attention if she could help it. The other three women were varying degrees of whiny, catty, and bitchy.

  But Paige could out-bitch them all. Audiences loved her for it too. Or had.

  She tried not to think about what would happen if the show didn’t come back, but she wasn’t very successful. If it didn’t, she’d have to start over again.

  She got up and paced the living room. Wyatt looked up from his computer but went back to whatever was on-screen. She had a crazy urge to go over and take his face in both hands, press her mouth to his, and see what happened.

  Just to relieve the boredom.

  Like that was the only reason.

  Paige stalked out onto the deck and gripped the railing, rocking back and forth while gazing at the scenery. A bird circled high overhead, wheeling and drifting on currents. She envied that bird.

  She turned and went back inside, closing the door and propping a hand on her hip. Wyatt looked up again. This time he arched an eyebrow.

  “I’m bored,” Paige said. “I want to do something.”

  Oh crap, had she really just said that? Because the moment she did, all she could think of was the very obvious thing that a man and woman alone together could do. It would certainly relieve her stress.

  “There’s a good reason to stay out of sight, Miss Spencer.”

  She hated when he called her Miss Spencer. Which was odd considering every bodyguard she’d ever had called her precisely that.

  “Call me Paige. I insist.”

  “All right. Paige.”

  She liked the way he said her name. The
shiver of anticipation it sent down her spine.

  “I forgot to pack socks. Maybe we could go buy some?”

  “I can have one of my guys bring socks here.”

  Paige felt like stomping her foot. She wouldn’t though. That was the kind of thing she did on American Princess.

  So bitchy.

  “I’ll wear a hat. And sunglasses. I’ll put my hair inside the hat. No one will know I’m me. Assuming that’s what you’re worried about,” she added.

  “Not exactly. I’m sure some people out here watch your show, but the few I asked had never heard of it.”

  Paige blinked. Well, wasn’t that just a kick in the pants? “So what’s the problem then? Do you really think King will come here hours after I did? And that he’ll find me? Eagle’s Ridge can’t be that small.”

  He was frowning. “The problem is we don’t know anything about him. We don’t know what he looks like or what he knows. It’s safest to stay isolated until the threat is over.”

  “I think that’s overkill, Wyatt. I think you just don’t want to go anywhere.”

  He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “You’re not going to stop, are you?”

  Triumph was within her grasp. “Just a short trip. For socks. Please?”

  He seemed to make up his mind about something. “All right. But you aren’t Paige Spencer in town. You’ll need another name.”

  “My middle name is Nicole. My mother’s maiden name is Allen.”

  “Okay, Nicole Allen it is. Don’t forget who you are or I’ll be forced to drag you back here kicking and screaming. And don’t think I won’t. Nobody in Walmart would mind, especially if I said you were getting mouthy with me.”

  “Seriously? Isn’t this the twenty-first century?”

  He snorted, and she realized he was teasing her. “Just don’t forget your name, Nicole. Or the fact you’re my girlfriend from back in Virginia.”

  Paige’s eyebrows climbed her forehead.

  Wyatt spread his hands. “My best friends know who you are, but they won’t tell anyone. Everybody else needs to think you’re someone else. There’s no reason for me to be hanging out with a strange woman in town unless I know her. And since I just moved back from the Virginia area a couple of months ago, it makes the most sense.”

  Paige grabbed her purse and shouldered it. “Did you leave a girlfriend back there?”

  “Nope. But I can pretend. Can you?”

  Paige swallowed at the heat in his gaze. “What are we talking about here? Some light PDA? Tongues? Public groping?”

  “Let’s start with the PDA and see how far we go.”

  Paige shivered. PDA with Wyatt? She could definitely do that. In fact, she looked forward to it. Probably more than she should. But it was exciting and distracting, and she could use both those things right now.

  She checked Mr. Fluffypants’s dishes, made sure they were filled with food and water, and then went to put her hair into a messy bun. She was wearing jeans and boots—without socks—and a tank top beneath a gauzy blouse. It was casual and cool, but she’d take a light jacket along in case the weather turned chilly. She slicked on lip gloss, double-checked her eyeliner, and headed for the living room.

  Wyatt was waiting. He gave her the once-over but didn’t say anything.

  “Too much?” she asked. “Should I put on flip-flops?”

  “You’re fine.”

  He went over and opened the front door, waiting for her to walk through. She wondered as she passed him—as his heat and scent wrapped around her—where he’d put the pistol this time.

  He locked the door behind them and hit the button to unlock his truck. He even opened the door for her. She climbed inside with her heart beating just a little harder than it should.

  “Will the house be okay?” she asked as he started the truck.

  He looked at her with such confidence that she felt her nerves relaxing beneath her skin.

  “It’s fine. Spike is going to be okay by himself. Unless he figures out how to disarm the system. Doubt he will though.”

  “Fluffy,” she said, and he laughed.

  “I know. I just like yanking your chain, princess.”

  Oddly enough, she liked it too.

  “Wow,” Paige said as they drove down Main Street. “There are a lot of military monuments in this town.”

  They’d crossed the Sentinel Bridge with its statues of the four founders—two at each end—and now they were passing the World War II memorial. There was also a Korean memorial, a Vietnam memorial, and memorials to the most recent wars in Afghanistan and Iraq.

  “Eagle’s Ridge is a military town. Not in the standard way of being near a base and thriving on government contracts, but the town was founded by military men. There’s a long tradition of military service here. Men and women from this town have fought in all our nation’s wars since World War II.”

  “Is that why you joined up?”

  “Yeah. It seemed like the thing to do. My granddad was thrilled with my decision—he was still alive then. Gran wasn’t so much, but she didn’t say anything.”

  “She didn’t want you to go?”

  “She wanted me to go to college and settle down.”

  “You said she lived here in town. Does she still live on her own?”

  Wyatt snorted. “Oh yeah. Gran is only seventy-eight. Quite a bit younger than my grandpa was. She was recently diagnosed with diabetes, but that hasn’t slowed her down. I thought I was coming back home to take care of her, but she’s having none of it. She made me move into the apartment over the garage.”

  Gran said a young man needed his own space and living with his grandma wasn’t going to get him laid, much less married. She’d actually said laid. He’d nearly fallen out on the floor. Whoever Gran was hanging out with these days, she’d gotten sassy as hell thanks to their influence.

  Paige was grinning. “So you live in an apartment over your grandmother’s garage?”

  “For now.” He took a left turn toward the town square and the shops there. “What about you? Who pays for your apartment?”

  Her smile turned brittle and he wanted to kick himself.

  “Daddy, of course. But I told you that earlier.”

  Wyatt flexed his hands on the wheel. “I’m sorry. I’m being an ass.”

  “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

  “You shouldn’t be. And what I said wasn’t directed at you.” No, it was more like his own frustration at leaving the Navy and coming home to this.

  Yeah, he’d done what he had to do—he’d left the Navy and come home so Gran didn’t have to sit at his funeral and receive a folded flag delivered by an honor guard. But he still regretted his decision sometimes. And now he was taking it out on Paige Spencer.

  “I sometimes think I quit the Navy for nothing. I’m here, but she doesn’t need me. I want to take care of her, but she won’t let it happen. She won’t even let me go to her appointments with her. Makes me drop her off at the door and pick her up when it’s done.”

  Paige reached over and squeezed his arm. It was a quick gesture, but his skin sizzled from the contact. Maybe hers did too since she dropped her hand so fast.

  “Maybe it’s not about you, Wyatt. She’s a grown woman and she’s used to taking care of herself. She’s also growing older—maybe letting you go with her feels too much like losing her independence.”

  He pulled the truck into a free parking space in the town square and turned to her, one arm on the wheel, the other on the back of the seat. What she said made a lot of sense.

  “I never thought of that.”

  She reached for his fingers where they dangled from the seat back. She didn’t hold them, merely stroked the tips. He felt her touch all the way to his groin.

  “I’m just guessing. But based on my own feelings, it sounds right. I had to fight my father to move out of his Mercer Island home. But when he married Melanie— Well, that was the last straw for me. Did you know that we went to the same college? She
’s my age. She met my dad when she came home with me on spring break once. She was my friend—and now she’s my stepmother.” She shook herself, and he felt a twinge of sorrow for her. “It’s not fun when you feel as if you aren’t in control of your life anymore. That’s what your grandmother wants. Control. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you or want you here.”

  He could seriously kiss this woman. Hell, why didn’t he? He dropped his gaze to her mouth. Her pretty pink mouth. She darted her tongue out, and he felt the twinge in his groin. The twinge he’d been feeling since the moment he’d picked her up at the airport.

  Paige Spencer and all her hoity-toityness. Her hot-blonde snootiness. He wanted to kiss the daylights out of her. Then he wanted to strip those tight jeans down her thighs and bury himself between them. But not before licking her into a screaming orgasm. He had a feeling she would fly apart so sweetly.

  “You’re pretty smart for a city girl,” he growled, curling his fingers around her slender neck.

  He could feel the quickness of her pulse, see the beat of her heart throbbing in her throat.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, her voice strained.

  “Doing? This,” he said, tugging her closer. Her mouth was right there. Right within his reach. He dropped his gaze to her plump lips. To their pretty pinkness.

  “Wyatt,” she breathed, her lashes dipping to shield her eyes, and he knew he had her.

  He crossed the distance between them. And then he kissed her.

  Chapter 9

  Firecrackers exploded in her brain. Little bursts of light that rained down like a million fireflies buzzing around her head. Wyatt’s lips on hers were light, teasing. He didn’t take. He gave.

  Paige wanted more. Her body responded with a flash of heat between her legs. She leaned into him, asking for more, her mouth opening beneath his.

  He gave it to her, his tongue slipping inside her mouth to caress hers. Someone moaned and—

  Oh hell, it was her. Her heart raced and her pulse thrummed and her body melted. She’d been kissed plenty of times, with varying levels of skill, but none had made her feel quite like she was going to come out of her skin at any second.