Billionaire Bodyguard 1 : Billionaire Bodyguard(47)

Perfection . He sighed.

He felt her lashes flutter against his bare chest, a whispering tickle. In his secure hold, her muscles relaxed like a gentle cascade. She snuggled into his embrace. He closed his eyes, amazed by how good it felt to hold her. 

Her breath warmed his shoulder like the soft flex of butterfly wings. He didn't move, didn't dare. He held her close, kissed her cheek, smoothed her hair. Whispered things he couldn't say when she was awake.

Give her time , he told himself.

But the refrain was getting old. He wanted her heart, her vows, their baby-everything. Right now.

The Thanksgiving holiday was coming up in less than two weeks. Maybe then, surrounded by his family and friends, she'd realize how serious he was about her becoming a permanent part of his life. Steph and Tracie knew about the baby. He'd told his sisters the day he found out. They couldn't wait to meet her. The woman who'd managed to get their bachelor brother to give up all he had for everything he finally realized he needed.

He wanted Allison to feel welcome, like she belonged. Along with his sisters and husbands and their kids, Rick and Vivi and their four hellions would land at his place, as well as Devon. The tradition of Logan hosting Thanksgiving for the past few years was his way of immersing himself in the family he didn't see often enough, along with the friends who were like family. Kids and chaos, great food and even better conversation. The precious, priceless things he'd believed he had to acquire vicariously.

Until Allison and the baby knocked him off course. And finally onto the right track.

Still, he wasn't sure she could handle what he wanted from her, with her. He kissed her hair. "It's a good thing I like a challenge, baby doll."

He felt her lips curve. She said sleepily, "I like you, too."

A smile glowed in his heart.

*

Where is Logan?

Tapping her fingers impatiently, Allison checked the clock again. He should've come by her office ten minutes ago. She was due for her first pregnancy exam at three-o'clock. The one Logan had arranged without investigating the options together, or even asking her if she'd be comfortable with a man instead of a woman.

Regardless, being late wasn't an option, considering the strings Logan had pulled to get an appointment with the best, busiest, most expensive OB/GYN in the Denver area. She grabbed her coat, turned off her computer and went to his office. She knocked on his closed door.

No answer. She frowned. Maybe he was caught up in last-minute contract details for his latest score with the Brazilian government.

To hasten their departure, she decided to wait for him in the front lobby. As she neared the designer glass partition separating the lobby from the elevators, the heavy scent of gardenias nearly knocked her over backward.

She'd once loved gardenias. They were the single splurge Trevor had agreed to for their small chapel wedding. The gaudy smell reminded her of days when she'd adored big dreams, and men who made big promises. Trevor had tapped into sentimentality occasionally, surprising her with a bouquet of gardenias for their anniversary. Mostly, she'd received them the morning after Trevor had exhibited appalling behavior or descended into one of his violent tantrums. Like an over-worn perfume, the sticky-sweet scent no longer reduced her to a knee-weakened puddle.

When she rounded the oval-shaped front desk, she stopped short. She'd never seen so many flowers outside a greenhouse. At least a dozen vases sprouted with thick, fluffy blossoms.

One of the receptionists must've had a birthday or anniversary-or was being proposed to right there in the lobby. Allison hung back, taking a quick sweep of the scene. She didn't want to interrupt the big moment.

The receptionists were cheerful and perky as usual, but neither wore the blushing look of a woman enchanted by an extravagant gift from a lover. When she didn't see Logan in the lobby either, she paused to inquire about the white garden.

Lacie, the dark-haired receptionist in her early twenties, caught her eye and smiled. "Anything I can help you with, Miss Dupree?"




 



Allison gestured to the piles of flowers. "What's the special occasion?"

Instead of launching into one of her rambling sagas, Lacie shrugged. "No idea."

"All these are here for no reason?"

"I wish some handsome stranger would walk in off the street to bring me dozens of flowers, just because." Lacie sighed wistfully. "There was no card, no message-not even a note to say who they were for."

An eerie sensation prickled up Allison's neck. The type of flower was merely coincidence, she told herself. It had nothing to do with her, no added meaning or hidden agenda. Just an accidental mix-up at the flower shop. "Did you try to return them? There could be a wedding missing its floral arrangements."