Christmas Guardian. Delores Fossen

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      He wanted the gun ready in case the pretense didn’t work. And in case they were about to be met by someone who’d followed Kinley.

      The door opened and from the corner of his eye, Jordan saw their visitors.

      Cody and Burke.

      Despite his instant relief at seeing nonenemy faces, Jordan didn’t break the kiss. In fact, he took it up a notch and made it look as if he was groping Kinley’s breasts when he reholstered his gun.

      “Sorry for the interruption,” Cody drawled.

      Only then did Jordan jerk away from her. He tried to look surprised, which wasn’t very difficult since that damage-control kiss had sent a coil of blazing heat through his entire body.

       Hell.

      Nothing like reacting like a red-blooded male instead of a security specialist in the middle of a potentially dangerous situation.

      “Something wrong?” Jordan asked the men. Beside him, Kinley was breathing hard. Hopefully from the danger and not the blasted kiss.

      Jordan made a mental note to figure a different form of damage control. Something that didn’t involve her mouth or her breasts.

      “Nothing’s wrong,” Burke assured him. He smiled. Cody didn’t. He had a puzzled look on his face. “It’s just that some folks have to leave to go to other parties, and I want to make a toast to celebrate your new semiretired status.”

      “Of course.” It couldn’t have come at a better time, because a toast and then an exit was the fastest way to get Kinley out of there.

      Kinley smiled and fixed her lipstick. Her mouth was trembling a bit, and she looked as if she’d been popped with a stun gun. Again, he hoped that was from the fear. He took her by the arm, and they followed Burke and Cody.

      “I give you a week,” Cody said, looking over his shoulder at Jordan. “And you’ll be so bored you’ll be begging Burke to sell you back the company.”

      “I doubt that.” There wasn’t a chance of boredom now that Kinley had arrived with her dangerous baggage. Not a chance, either, of his wanting to buy back Sentron. He didn’t intend to go back to working an eighty-hour week.

      Well, maybe not.

      He’d made that plan when he thought he would have to devote more time to protecting the child that’d been left on his doorstep. Now that Kinley was here, though, his life was in major limbo.

      And so were his emotions.

      Jordan slowed his pace and hated that ache in the pit of his stomach. But from the moment he’d run that first DNA test, he had known the child wasn’t his. Biologically, anyway. He’d also known that perhaps one day someone would show up and want the baby back.

      He just hadn’t counted on it being tonight.

      Part of him had hoped it would never happen. He wasn’t one to wish a person harm, but after fourteen months, he had adjusted to the idea that the baby’s biological parents weren’t coming for him. Or that they were dead, killed by the same people who’d murdered Shelly. And then he’d seen Kinley Ford’s DNA he’d pulled from the coffee cup.

      She was the biological mother, all right.

      Now the question was, what was he going to do about it?

      All eyes shifted in their direction when the four returned to the party. To speed things up, Jordan grabbed two glasses of champagne from the waiter, handed one to Kinley and then slid his arm back around her waist. He even gave her a lusty, long look that he figured everyone could interpret.

      Burke lifted his glass into the air. “Ten years ago Jordan Taylor created this company from scratch. He trained every agent in this room. Now Jordan’s company and mine, Burke Securities, will be merged to form not just the best, but the biggest personal security agency in the state. I only hope I’ll earn the same loyalty and support that you’ve shown him over the years.” The glass went higher. “To Jordan. Thanks for creating the benchmark of security services. And thanks even more for selling it all to me.”

      That brought a few chuckles, and the room echoed with “Hear! Hear!” and applause as others joined the toast.

      Jordan took one last look around the room. “I’ll miss this place and all of you.” He shrugged. “Well, maybe not when I’m tossing back shots of Glen Garioch on a private beach somewhere in the Pacific, but I’m sure there’ll be moments when I’ll miss you…a little.”

      Jordan forced a smile, took the master keycard from his jacket and handed it to Burke. A symbolic gesture, but one that tugged at his heart. “Don’t run the place into the ground, all right?”

      “I won’t,” Burke assured him.

      They shook hands, embraced briefly, while some photos were snapped. But Jordan had no intentions of lingering. He’d already said goodbye to his key agents, including Cody, Desmond Parisi and Alonzo Mateo, and he nodded farewell to two of his newer employees, Chris Sutton and Wally Arceneaux. Then, he took a final sip of the champagne, and he set Kinley’s and his glasses aside so they could head for the door.

      Cody stepped out of the gathering to hand Kinley her coat. “You might need this,” he added. Still no smile, not even a phony one. He was obviously riled that Jordan had sold the company. One day Jordan might be able to explain to him why he’d done it. “Enjoy your evening.”

      Jordan seriously doubted there’d be anything enjoyable about it. He only hoped it didn’t turn deadly.

      He helped Kinley with her coat and tried not to rush to the door. Jordan got them out of there and headed to the adjacent parking lot. It was cold, near freezing, and the wind barreled out of the north right at them. He kept her close, snuggled intimately into the crook of his arm, and he kissed her. This time it was on the corner of her mouth in the hopes that it wouldn’t carry the punch of a full-mouth kiss.

      It did anyway.

      She was attractive. There was no denying that. But he reminded himself that everything about her was a facade. Well, except for the fear. She was trembling, but he was almost certain it wasn’t from the cold.

      Kinley looked up at him. “Where’s my—”

      Jordan pressed his lips to hers so she couldn’t finish the question. Still walking, he kept his mouth over hers a second and then drew back slightly. “Lip readers,” he mumbled.

      Her smoke-gray eyes widened, and she gave a shaky nod, understanding that if someone were filming them, a lip reader would be able to determine anything they said.

      Including a question about the child.

      They reached his silver Porsche and got inside, behind the bulletproof custom-tinted glass and into a space that would not only conceal them, but was also sound-proof. They could see out, but no one could see in. And an alarm would beep if anyone tried to scan the vehicle with thermal or sound detectors. Since Jordan heard no beep, it was safe to talk.

      But not necessarily smart to tell her everything he knew.

      For now, he couldn’t СКАЧАТЬ