Kiss the Bride (64 page)

And forget all about the sultry look she’d just seen in Cal Ackerman’s eyes.

T
he first thing Tish did when she got back to Houston on Sunday evening was make two copies of the engagement party disk. Tomorrow, she promised herself, she would give one to Elysee, keep one for herself, and lock the original up in her safety-deposit box.

After nearly losing her camera to a thief, she wasn’t taking any chances. This job was the only thing she had left. She wasn’t about to screw it up. She could only give thanks she’d changed the disk before the camera had been stolen.

The second thing she did was quickly review the engagement party video before breaking it down frame by frame. Sitting in her office, staring at the screen, watching Shane and Elysee announce their engagement, seeing Shane give her the ring, just broke Tish’s heart.

When Shane touched the small of Elysee’s back, Tish felt the warmth of his hand against her own back and recalled the way he’d held her when they’d danced at Louie’s. Such a small thing. Why did it feel like such a big deal?

Because his hand—his poor damaged hand that had
once been whole, had once belonged to her—was now resting against another woman’s back.

Betrayal, hot and salty, rose in her throat strong as brine. Why did she feel betrayed? They’d been divorced for two years. She had no right to feel this way.

Tish sat cross-legged on the floor, heart thumping, eyes filled with tears. She had to get these thoughts out of her head, couldn’t stand the pain of them one second longer.

Forlornly, she drew her knees against her chest and fought back the tears that threatened to roll down her cheeks. She’d lost so much, but she refused to cry. She was tough. She was strong. Somehow, she would get through this.

In that moment, she turned where she’d always turned when she no longer had Shane to turn to. Hand trembling, she picked up the phone and dialed Delaney’s number.

“I’m back from Washington,” Tish said the minute her friend answered the phone. “It’s official, Shane’s engaged to the President’s daughter. It’ll be in all the newspapers and on the television news tomorrow.”

“I’m coming over right now. What flavor of ice cream should I bring?”

In the background, she heard Delaney’s husband, Nick, calling out to her, “Who’s phoning this late? Tell them to get some sleep and call back in the morning. Come back to bed, Rosy.” Rosy was Nick’s pet name for Delaney because when they’d first met, she’d blushed so much.

Guilt took hold of her. She was being too needy and inconsiderate of her friend’s new life. No matter how close they were, she couldn’t expect Delaney to drop everything and come running whenever she slammed up against a painful memory. Delaney was married now, with a husband of her own to consider. Tish should be respectful of that.

“It’s okay,” she said, forcing false joviality into her voice, “I don’t need any ice cream. But thanks.”

“Are you sure?” Delaney sounded bewildered.

“Sure, I’m sure.”

“Wow.”

“Wow, what?”

“You really must be over Shane.”

“Yeah,” she murmured. “I guess I’ve finally come to grips with the fact he’s moved on.”

“That’s terrific,” Delaney said, sounding dubious.

“Seriously, I’m okay. You don’t need to come over and hold my hand.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

The calmness inside her didn’t feel faked. She was comfortable. Safe. Secure. She’d screwed up by leaving the camera bag in the bathroom at the Ritz-Carlton, but in the end, she’d triumphed. She’d saved the engagement party video.

That’s all that mattered. She didn’t want him thinking his impending marriage to Elysee would destroy her.

“I’m happy for you,” Delaney said. “But are you absolutely certain you don’t need me to come over?”

“Nope, I’m fine.”

“Truly?”

“Delaney…”

“It’s just that I know you. Even if you don’t admit it to yourself, deep in your heart you always hoped that you and Shane would eventually get back together.”

“I’ve come to terms with the fact that’s not going to happen,” she said, proud of herself that she was able to say it without falling apart.

“You’ve made amazing progress,” Delaney praised. “I
must admit, I was really worried when I heard you were going to be filming Shane and Elysee Benedict’s wedding, but I guess this will give you the closure you need to move on.”

“Yep.” She was feeling fine. Really she was. But maybe it would be a good idea to get off the phone before other emotions bubbled up. “Just wanted to let you know I’m back from DC and everything’s fine.”

“Thanks for calling. Sleep well.”

“You, too.” Tish hung up the phone feeling that her last lifeline had just been severed.

Shane lay in his bed at the Benedict ranch staring up at the ceiling, feeling as if he didn’t belong. In this place, in the dead of night, he was lonelier than he’d ever been in his life.

As a bodyguard, insomnia came with the territory. It was difficult to sleep when your job required vigilance. But he wasn’t a bodyguard anymore. He didn’t know what he was. He was Tish’s ex-husband, Elysee’s fiancé. But who was he deep down inside?

Shane didn’t know anymore.

Uncertainty had never been an issue for him until he’d been injured, but now it haunted his every waking hour. He thought of his father. He could hear Ben Tremont’s voice in his head saying,
“Self-doubt is a weakness.”

But wasn’t supreme self-confidence just as bad as self-doubt? If you didn’t have some doubt when you were on the wrong path, weren’t you cutting off that inner self who knew what was right? Arrogance was a weakness, too. And in the past, he’d been guilty of it.

Maybe that was what he was supposed to learn from the accident. That it was okay to be unsure. That uncertainty
could bring you back into balance if you didn’t fight it. He’d been out of balance for so long. Was he too far gone now to find his way back?

Anxiety pushed him to a sitting position. Shane switched on the lamp beside the bed, held up his hand in front of him, searching for answers in the ribbon of red scars crisscrossing his palm. He tried to mime pulling a trigger, but his fingers would barely move. Weeks of physical therapy and he hadn’t progressed any further than this?

How long before he could fire a gun again? Would he ever be able to fire a gun again?

That was the million-dollar question. If he couldn’t fire a gun, how could he be a bodyguard? And if he wasn’t a bodyguard, who was he? His questions brought him full circle without any answers.

A sensation of claustrophobia gripped him the way it had the night he went to Louie’s. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, as if the walls were closing in.

And on the heels of that feeling came another feeling. It started in the pit of his gut and dug in deep, spreading throughout his body. It was a feeling he’d honed and cultivated as a Secret Service agent. The instinct that told him something bad was about to happen.

No matter how he tossed and turned and tried to ignore it, he couldn’t help thinking that something bad was going to happen to Tish.

In his head, he replayed what had gone down at the DC Ritz-Carlton. What if whoever had snatched Tish’s camera hadn’t been a tabloid journalist as they’d assumed? What if it had been someone with a far darker purpose?

But what purpose could that be?

Shane didn’t know, but the worrisome feeling in his
gut wasn’t dying down. He had to check this out. He flung back the covers, jumped out of bed. He dressed and then quietly, secretively, as only a good agent could do, he slipped from the ranch house without being detected. Leaving the property wasn’t as easy. He had to start his SUV, head down the only access road, get security to open the gate and let him out.

Truth was Shane just had to get off the ranch. He had to check on Tish and make sure she was okay.

Why don’t you just call her?

In the middle of the night? And say what? “Sorry to wake you, but I got a feeling?”

Okay, here’s the deal—just drive by her place. If everything looks copacetic, then drive on by. She’ll never have to know you were there.

He traveled toward Interstate 45. Forty minutes later, he was pulling up to the curb outside Tish’s garage apartment in the old-money neighborhood of River Oaks. He’d gotten her address off the business card she’d given Elysee. He suspected she’d moved to this area to be closer to her friend Delaney.

When he saw that the light was on in her apartment, his heart rapped hard against his chest. He blew out his breath. She was awake. Now what?

Good God, Tremont, you’re acting like a stalker.

He wasn’t stalking her. He was worried about her. His gut was gnawing at him, telling him something was wrong.

What if Elysee finds out you slipped away in the middle of the night to come park outside your ex-wife’s apartment simply because you had a feeling?

And what would keep Elysee from thinking,
Yeah, right. Then why is her business card in your front shirt pocket?

He clenched his jaw, swallowed back the pain clogging his throat. He did that a lot. Swallowed back his pain; sucked up his sorrow. It was what a man was supposed to do. Shane hailed from a long line of heroes. Heroes didn’t whine or complain. They didn’t mourn for what they’d lost. They accepted circumstances as they were, buried their emotions, took stock of the facts, and moved on without regrets.

So why couldn’t he do that?

Because you’re not really a hero. Not like your grandfather, not like Dad. They were real heroes. Real wars. Real men. You’re nothing but a glorified babysitter.

He looked down at his damaged hand that could barely hold the steering wheel, and his heart plummeted to his feet. Hell, he wasn’t even a glorified babysitter anymore. He was useless. Washed up. Wiped out.

Pity over everything he’d lost grabbed him by the throat, but he refused to let it take hold. To hell with pity. He was going to get the use of his hand back. He would prevail. He was a Tremont and Tremonts were heroes. It was his legacy.

He looked up, realized where he was and cringed. How had he come to this? Sitting outside Tish’s apartment, blaming his being here on a gut feeling. It was pathetic. What was he hoping to accomplish? He should either knock on her door or get the hell out of here.

Shane started the engine, but he couldn’t seem to make himself put the Durango in gear. His gaze was locked on Tish’s window.

There wasn’t another woman like her on the face of the earth.

So why did you let her go?

It wasn’t him. He’d tried his best. Ultimately, she was
the one who’d turned her back on him. Even if he was the one who finally pulled the plug by walking out the door.

The emptiness he’d been feeling at the Benedict ranch hadn’t abated. In fact it was stronger now, as the old memories tumbled in on him. Memories that knotted his throat and misted his eyes.

You’re still in love with Tish.

He couldn’t still be in love with her. He was marrying Elysee Benedict on Christmas Eve.

Marrying Elysee while his heart still belonged to Tish.

His gut twisted.
Okay, fucking fine
. He would admit it. He was still in love with her. But so what? She didn’t love him. If she still loved him she wouldn’t have let him walk out that door. She would have told him the things he needed so desperately to hear.

Get the hell out of here. Go back to the ranch. Forget about what you lost. Forget about what your gut is telling you. Tish is building a new life. You’re building a new life now with a good woman who truly needs you. You have everything you’ve ever wanted.

Except for Tish.

Determinedly, Shane fumbled for the gearshift with his bum hand and finally managed to slip it into drive. He stomped down on the accelerator, but as he pulled away, he tossed one last look over his shoulder at Tish’s bedroom window.

And that’s when he saw a dark figure creeping along her balcony.

After calling Delaney, Tish pushed aside all her sorrow and memories and got down to work. She was running the video disk from the engagement party through her state-of-the-art editing program on her computer.

She would watch a segment, freeze it, and make notes for special effects she wanted to add or cuts she wanted to make. She also jotted down a list of music selections to mix in, but she would need to run her ideas by Elysee before finalizing it.

There was the ballroom where the ceremony had been held. And here came Nathan Benedict and his entourage. She paused the scene and made notes before continuing on to the next segment.

The work held her mesmerized as she slipped into professional mode and stopped seeing Shane and Elysee on a personal level. They were just another high-profile couple getting engaged. She wasn’t going to let viewing the video trigger any more emotions inside her. This was a job. That’s all it was.

She’d managed to block her emotions so well in fact that she got lost in what she was doing. Time flew, and the first indication of trouble was the smell of gasoline filtering in through her bedroom window.