Stalked. Beverly Long

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СКАЧАТЬ appeal. Her father rarely gave tours of the grounds anymore, so this guy had to have enough bucks to make that happen.

      They were walking toward the house. She got up and grabbed her toast and coffee, intending to leave before they saw her.

      But her mother stood in the doorway. Still beautiful at 67, the former Miss Texas had put on at least five pounds in the last month. She was still way too thin but Hope was grateful for every ounce.

      “Hi,” Hope said. “I hear you played golf this morning.”

      “Yes, it was fabulous. Is that your lunch?”

      Hope looked at her toast, still wrapped in the paper napkin. “Brunch. I’m going to eat inside today,” she said. She waited for her mom to step aside. But the woman didn’t.

      Hope looked over her shoulder. The trio was closer. “Excuse me, Mom,” she said.

      “Do you have a minute?” her mother asked. “Your father and I would like you to meet someone.”

      “I was on my way out,” Hope lied.

      “Please.”

      Hope sighed. She couldn’t say no to her mother. “I just have a minute,” she hedged.

      Her mother nodded and looked past Hope. “Hello, Bing,” she said. “You’re looking well.”

      “And you, Patsy.” Uncle Bing took the last three steps, leaned in past Hope and kissed her mother’s cheek. “You look radiant.”

      Then Uncle Bing turned to her and hugged her hard. “Good to see you, Hope.”

      Her father stepped close, in a Prada shirt, khaki shorts and deck shoes. At 67, he still had a full head of hair that he kept brown with some regular help from his hairdresser. He was trim, had all his own teeth and a good smile to show them off.

      The camera loved him. And contributions from female fans almost doubled those from males.

      As usual, he nodded in Hope’s direction but didn’t speak. Instead, he pulled out chairs at the table and motioned for them to take one. Her mother sat.

      Hope checked out the stranger. Up close, she could tell that his clothes were expensive. He wore them with a casual elegance. His short hair was dark, with just a thread of silver at the temples. He was very tanned, very fit.

      She wished he’d take his sunglasses off or that she’d thought to put hers on.

      Uncle Bing waved a hand. “Hope, this is my good friend Mack McCann.”

      She extended her hand. “Mr. McCann,” she murmured. When her hand connected to his, she expected his skin to be warm from the sun. But it was cool. There were calluses on his palms and his index finger looked bruised, as if he’d recently hit it with something. Both imperfections were strangely at odds with his otherwise sophisticated presence.

      “Ms. Minnow,” he replied. His voice was low, sexy.

      “Let’s get on with it,” her father said.

      Hope snuck one last look at her mother, who was looking at her expectantly. Expecting what, Hope wasn’t sure. She worked hard to hide the animosity she felt for her father from her mother. But she wasn’t always successful. Those times she always came out the loser because overt hostility didn’t bother her father at all, and it ripped Hope apart when she knew that she’d upset her mom. Stress wasn’t good for any recovery.

      Hope sat next to her mom and looked at the lap pool. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her father take a chair. Then Bing, and finally Mack McCann.

      Her father leaned forward, his arms on the table. “Bing brought Mack here today because I asked for assistance. Mack provides PPS.”

      Her father had the most irritating habit of assigning acronyms to things and then acting surprised when other people didn’t know them. She didn’t rise to the bait. She thought about the water temperature of the pool.

      She heard her mother sigh. “Personal protective services, Hope. He’s a bodyguard.”

      Oh, good grief. Her father was going to add a bodyguard to his entourage. That would mean there wouldn’t be a seat in the limo for either his hairdresser or his accountant.

      She bet the hairdresser got tossed. Or maybe he’d just have the church buy a bigger limo.

      “There have been some threats,” her father said.

      “Threats,” she repeated, making sure her tone said boring.

      Uncle Bing looked at her father. There was no reaction from Mack McCann.

      “Threats on your life,” her father said.

      Hope looked at her mother. She could not be falling for this. But the look on her mother’s face said that she’d been reeled in.

      “We’ve hired Mack to protect you,” her mother said. “He’s your shadow for the next ten days while we’re traveling.”

      Hope pushed her chair back. Took a deep breath, held it. Then she turned to the stranger. “Mr. McCann, I hope you didn’t come too far for this appointment because that’s time you’re never going to get back. I don’t need or want a bodyguard.” It was the understatement of the year. A bodyguard would ruin everything. Make it impossible to do the things that needed to be done.

      She bent down and kissed her mother’s cheek. Then she straightened. “I’m going shopping.”

      * * *

      THE ONLY SOUND on the veranda after Hope made her departure was the tinkle of water from the frog’s mouth at one end of the pool.

      “Archie?” Bing asked.

      “She doesn’t have a choice,” Reverend Minnow said, folding his arms across his broad chest.

      “She doesn’t seem too concerned,” Mack said. He’d been prepared for her to be upset, maybe cry a little, or be a little angry that someone would dare to threaten her. He hadn’t expected to be dismissed.

      “She needs to understand the full impact of the situation,” Patricia Minnow said. “I’ll talk to her.” The woman reached for the papers that Reverend Minnow held folded in his hands.

      Mack reached over the frail, yet lovely woman. “I’ll do it,” he said. When he’d first read the threats, he’d been incensed that Hope was being targeted because someone had a bone to pick with Archibald Minnow. It was damn cowardly to go after someone’s child, even if that child was an adult. He’d been grateful that he’d accepted the assignment.

      But he wasn’t going to guard an uncooperative subject. She had to go along with the plan or all bets were off. He wanted to talk to Hope alone. There’d been some strange dynamic at the table. He hadn’t had time yet to figure it out and nobody was tipping their hand.

      “May I?” he asked, inclining his head toward the house.

      “Of course,” said Patricia. “But you better be fast. Hope moves quickly СКАЧАТЬ