Kiss the Bride (63 page)

Elysee didn’t get it and he didn’t have time to explain.

“Come with me,” he said to Cal. “We’re searching the rooms in this wing. Elysee, go back to the ballroom and make some politically correct excuse why the guests can’t leave yet.”

Everyone jumped to obey him.

Tish stopped humming. A good sign.

He and Cal tore down the corridor. Cal took the rooms on the left side of the hall, Shane the ones to the right. He
wrenched open the door to a conference room, did a quick search. Nothing seemed disturbed.

He tried the next room, then the next.

In the fourth room, he found what he was looking for. The French doors leading out into the courtyard stood ajar.

Shane rushed into the courtyard just in time to see a shadowy figure sprint across the lawn. Instinctively, his wounded hand reached for the shoulder holster that wasn’t there. God, he wished he had his gun. He felt naked without it. Just as Tish must feel without her camera.

“Stop!” he called out. The thief didn’t know he didn’t have a weapon. “Secret Service!”

The culprit kept running.

Shane swore under his breath and took off at a dead sprint. But the thief had too much of a head start and Shane just couldn’t keep up. His lungs throbbed, sending sharp pulses of pain shooting through his chest. He’d become sadly out of shape since his accident.

The thief broke through the privacy hedges to the street beyond. By the time Shane got there, he was out of breath. He stood a moment in the darkness, heaving in air, body quivering, wondering how he was going to break the news to Tish that her camera was gone.

Then he spied the camera bag lying in the dirt underneath the Japanese boxwoods.

Feeling like a conquering hero, he shrugged off the pain and made his way back to the party with the bag. He slipped inside to find Elysee holding court, Tish sitting quietly beside her.

The minute Tish spotted him she was on her feet, her eyes wide, overjoyed to see her bag.

“You found it!” she breathed and reached out to take the camera bag like it was her long-lost baby. She clutched
it to her chest for a moment, then unzipped it and took the camera out.

“Is it okay?” Shane asked.

Elysee came over and slipped an arm around his waist. “Are you all right, Tish?”

Tish shook her head. “I’m fine,” she said. “But whoever stole the camera took the disk.”

Thanks to Shane, Tish had her camera back. Everything was going to be okay.

“I don’t understand. Why would the thief leave an expensive camera like this, but steal the disk?” Elysee asked.

“They weren’t after the camera,” Shane said.

“Who’d go to such lengths for a disk of our engagement party?” Elysee wrinkled her nose in confusion.

“Tabloids,” Tish said. “They’ll pay millions for exclusive shots of the first daughter’s engagement party.”

“Oh, no.” Elysee groaned, crossed her palms and pressed them against her heart. “I hadn’t thought about that.”

Tish felt instantly protective of her. “It’s okay.”

“No it’s not.” Elysee shook her head. “It’s going to be a nightmare for security and…”

“Fear not.” Tish grinned and dipped her hand into the pocket of her dress, pulling out a compact camera disk.

“Is that what I think it is?” Elysee breathed.

“Yep. I’d just changed out the disk before the camera went missing. I’ve got your engagement party pictures right here. You’re safe.”

“I’m not sure I trust her,” Lola Zachary said to Elysee after the engagement party, when they were alone in Elysee’s bedroom at the White House.

Elysee wasn’t really listening to Lola. She was thinking about Shane. She’d wanted to spend some quiet time with him after the party—maybe kissing in the garden under the full moon. They hadn’t spent nearly enough time kissing, but protocol and circumstances had reared their heads. All she’d gotten from him that night was a chaste kiss.

While she liked the excitement of waiting until their wedding night to have sex, the lack of physical contact with him was starting to get to her. They were engaged, after all. Nothing wrong with letting him get to third base. She imagined Shane’s hand sliding up her thigh, disappearing under the hem of her skirt, and her face heated.

“Did you hear me?” Lola asked.

“Huh?” Elysee blinked.

“You shouldn’t trust her.”

“Trust who?” Elysee unzipped her dress and stepped out of it.

“Tish Gallagher.” Lola held out her hand for the garment. Elysee scooped it off the floor and passed it to her.

“What do you mean? Tish is great. She saved the engagement party. If she hadn’t changed that disk when she did the photographs could be all over the Internet by now.”

“Please, Elysee, you are so naïve.” Shaking her head, Lola went to the closet, plucked a wooden hanger from the rack and hung up Elysee’s dress. “Sometimes I can’t believe you’re really Nathan’s daughter. Your father has been in politics all of your life. Hasn’t that taught you anything about human nature?”

Lola was always so serious. Sometimes, Elysee wished she’d either lighten up or shut up.

“What are you saying?”

“Tish is Shane’s ex-wife.”

“And?”

“There’s a possibility she could be trying to sabotage you. I mean, think about it: what professional photographer leaves her camera bag in the bathroom? Those cameras are heavy. Wouldn’t you notice there’s no big heavy camera bag hanging off your shoulder when you left the ladies’ room?” Lola relished being the voice of doom and gloom. She was an excellent personal assistant, but sometimes her negativity grated on Elysee’s nerves.

“Don’t you think if Tish were trying to sabotage my engagement to Shane that she wouldn’t have told me she’d changed the disk? That she would have sold them to the tabloids herself and probably made a lot more money than what she’s getting paid to put together the wedding video?” Elysee asked.

“Not if she felt guilty and decided at the last minute not to go through with her scheme.”

“You make her sound so Machiavellian.”

Lola arched an eyebrow. “Maybe she is.”

“You have a tendency to look on the dark side of life,” Elysee chided, plunking down at the vanity and reaching for the cold cream to remove her makeup.

“Sometimes you’re such a child.”

Elysee bristled and sat up straight. It took a lot to ruffle her feathers, but calling her childish was one way to do it. She worked so hard to be grown-up, especially since she’d been thrust into the role of her father’s companion on the political trail after her mother passed away. To be thought childish was her Achilles’ heel and Lola knew it.

“I’ll thank you to leave me for the night,” she said coldly. “And I don’t want to hear another word against Tish.”

“But…”

“Not another word.” Elysee raised a cold-cream slathered hand. “Understand?” Her assistant gritted her teeth so loudly she could hear her from across the room.

“As you wish.” Lola hurried for the door, head down. As she passed by the vanity, Elysee heard her mutter, “It’s your funeral.”

Lola’s words ended up poisoning Elysee’s sleep.

Could her assistant be right? Was she being foolish by assuming that Tish cared only about producing a great video and launching her career? Did Shane’s ex-wife still have romantic feelings for him?

More important, did Shane still have feelings for Tish?

The thought struck terror in her heart. Damn Lola anyway, for making her doubt the only man, other than her father, that Elysee had never doubted.

Disturbed by the direction of her thoughts, Elysee forced her mind onto other things. She thought about Rana Singh and what Rana had told her about Alma Reddy’s journey to America. Alma would arrive in Houston via a cargo freighter through the gulf shipping channel. Elysee had promised to offer safe harbor at the ranch until Alma and her husband could be reunited.

Ah, romantic love.

She sighed, the thought bringing her restless mind back to Shane. She tossed the covers aside and crept out of bed. She knew of only one way to put a stop to these gnawing concerns. She needed to have a serious talk with him. He was her fiancé. They shouldn’t keep secrets from each other.

After donning her bathrobe over her pajamas, Elysee stepped from the bedroom and padded past the sentinel posted at her door. Cal Ackerman was reading a J.D. Robb novel.

Elysee missed having Shane as her bodyguard. She recalled other nights when she’d had trouble falling asleep. How he would play chess or watch a silly movie with her until she got drowsy. She thought about how he’d listened while she chattered on and on about her trivial concerns. How he’d often gone down to the White House kitchen and brought back warm milk and chocolate chip cookies for her, just like her mother used to do when she was a little girl.

Sometimes, if she begged him long enough, he would show her things he’d learned in the military and Secret Service training. Self-defense techniques and methods of disabling opponents. She liked those lessons most of all, and yet those had been the ones he’d been most reluctant to teach her.

Affection for Shane rushed through her, filling her chest with a warm tightness of emotion. He was such a good man. A real hero. A great friend. Could anyone really blame Tish for still being in love with him?

The thought brought a stab of fear, draining the joy from her heart. Had she indeed made a grave mistake in hiring Tish? Was she, as Lola contended, ridiculously naïve?

“Need something?” Cal asked, resting his open paperback on his knee. His sharp eyes met hers.

Elysee shook her head. “Go back to your book.”

“Where you headed?” He closed the novel, set it on the small hallway table beside him, and got to his feet.

She hated this part of being the President’s daughter. Zero privacy. She jerked a thumb in the direction of the room where Shane was staying.

“Shane’s not in his room,” Cal said. She noticed then that his gaze had strayed to where her breasts curved
beneath her pajama top. A strange thrill of excitement raced through her. Shane had never looked at her with such frank sexual interest.

Doubt squeezed her hard. Suddenly, her stomach rolled queasily. Elysee raised a hand to her mouth. Could he be with Tish? “He’s not?”

“No.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“I think he and your father are discussing security for your wedding.” Cal’s gaze locked on hers, he settled his hands on his hips. He was not a particularly handsome man, but he was potently male. He was taller even than Shane and a few pounds heavier. All muscle and edge.

Nervously, Elysee looked away and wet her lips with her tongue. “But he shouldn’t be up this late. It’s after midnight. He’s still recovering from his injury.”

“Once a bodyguard, always a bodyguard.” Cal shrugged as if it explained everything.

That notion made her feel better. Of course Shane was talking to her father about security matters. Nothing meant more to him than her safety. He was her hero. She had absolutely nothing to worry about, unless she wanted to fret about the bizarre warmth that suddenly heated her stomach whenever she met Cal’s eyes.

This was ridiculous. She was imagining things. She was engaged to Shane. She wouldn’t attach a meaning to a momentary exchange of meaningful glances with her new bodyguard. She was engaged to Shane and he would take care of her, no matter what. He was the man her mother had promised would come into her life. Elysee was certain he was The One.

But how can you be absolutely sure?

Especially when Cal kept staring at her like she was a
birthday cake.
He’s not. You’re reading something into his look that isn’t there. You’re just getting cold feet, like you did with the other three guys. The problem isn’t Shane, or the way Cal is looking at you, or even Tish. It’s your own fear that you’ve made the wrong choice.

Again.

“You want me to call Shane?” Cal reached for the two-way radio clipped to his belt. She noticed how his large fingers skimmed over the smooth, black leather. “Tell him you’re looking for him?”

Elysee could go find Shane and ask him about his feelings for Tish. Or she could accept things at face value and go back to bed. Shane had asked her to marry him. They’d officially announced their engagement. She twirled his engagement ring on her finger. It was the prettiest engagement ring she’d ever gotten.

He loved her.

She loved him.

There was no need to talk about the past. It was over. The future lay ahead of them. What was the point of cornering him for an answer? Did she really want to know the truth? What would she do if Shane told her he still had feelings for Tish? Would she fire Tish? Would she let Shane out of the engagement? Elysee nibbled a fingernail.

And then there was the flip side. If Shane assured her that he felt nothing for his ex-wife, could she believe him?

There was a catch-22 between truth and ignorance.

Elysee shook her head at Cal. “No, no, don’t call him.”

Turning, she went back to bed, making the conscious decision to embrace ignorance.