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To The Edge (The Bodyguard) - Softcover

Buch 1 von 6: Bodyguards

Gerard, Cindy

 
9780312990916: To The Edge (The Bodyguard)
Softcover
ISBN 10: 031299091X ISBN 13: 9780312990916
Verlag: St Martins Pr, 2005

Inhaltsangabe


The daughter of a wealthy businessman, Jillian Kincaid grew up with bodyguards shadowing her every move-and she hated it. Now a TV anchorwoman, she refuses to let another hired thug follow her around. Not even when she begins to receive terrifying death threats. Not even when the bodyguard is the darkly seductive Nolan Garrett...

Trained in Special Ops, bodyguard Nolan Garrett has been hired by Jillian's father to keep her out of danger. But it's clear from the start that Jillian isn't going to make his job easy. Far from the spoiled princess he expected, Jillian is tough, independent, and totally sexy. And she's fighting him every step of the way.

As Jillian's stalker raises the stakes, Nolan must keep her close if he wants to keep her alive. But being so close can only turn up the heat that's been simmering between them-a heat that could explode into passion at any moment...

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor


CINDY GERARD is a bestselling author of nearly thirty contemporary romance novels. Along with numerous industry award nominations, Cindy is the recipient of The National Reader's Choice Award and Romance Writers of America's coveted Rita Award. As one reviewer put it: 'Ms. Gerard is a master at weaving tales that shoot straight for the heart-and she does it with incomparable style.'

Cindy lives in the Midwest with her husband, Tom, two spoiled dogs and several fat and happy quarter horses. Visit her Web site at: www.cindygerard.com.

^

Cindy Gerard is a New York Times bestselling author of many contemporary romance novels including To the Brink, To the Limit, Over the Line, and Under the Wire. She is also the author of the Black Ops, Inc. series, every one of which has appeared on the New York Times top 20 list. Along with numerous industry award nominations, Cindy is the recipient of The National Reader’s Choice Award and two-time winner of Romance Writers of America’s coveted RITA Award.

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Bestselling author Cindy Gerard introduces a sizzling, new romance series featuring irresistible bodyguards. Whether they're strong, sexy, handsome men or self-assured, daring, beautiful women, these unforgettable bodyguards will captivate readers' hearts...

THE FIRST RULE OF BODYGUARDS:
The daughter of a wealthy businessman, Jillian Kincaid grew up with bodyguards shadowing her every move-and she hated it. Now a TV anchorwoman, she refuses to let another hired thug follow her around. Not even when she begins to receive terrifying death threats. Not even when the bodyguard is the darkly seductive Nolan Garrett...

NEVER FALL IN LOVE...
Trained in Special Ops, bodyguard Nolan Garrett has been hired by Jillian's father to keep her out of danger. But it's clear from the start that Jillian isn't going to make his job easy. Far from the spoiled princess he expected, Jillian is tough, independent, and totally sexy. And she's fighting him every step of the way.

WITH THE WOMAN YOU'RE PROTECTING.
As Jillian's stalker raises the stakes, Nolan must keep her close if he wants to keep her alive. But being so close can only turn up the heat that's been simmering between them-a heat that could explode into passion at any moment...

"A tense, sexy story filled with danger...romantic suspense at its best."
--Kay Hooper, New York Times bestselling author

"Heart-thumping thrills, sleek sensuality, and unforgettable characters. I have one word for Nolan Garrett. Yum!"
--Vickie Lewis Thompson, New York Times bestseller of The Nerd Who Loved Me

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1
EVEN AMONG THE MASSES POPULATING West Palm Beach, Florida, Nolan Garrett found hundreds of places to be alone: in a packed corner deli, in the crush of tourists on a Sunday afternoon by the seawall, in his vintage Mustang on a deserted midnight street with the gas pedal down and the city’s finest asleep at the wheel. Tonight, in this seedy bar where the Latino beat was sultry and loud, the beer flowed as free as air, and smoke hung like rotor wash in a drop zone, he made sure he stayed alone.
The sharp crack of a cue sent a dozen pool balls scattering across worn green felt. He tuned out the sound of the game along with the music and the raucous laughter, thick with undercurrents of the streets. The stench of stale spilled beer faded to background scent as well, as he wrapped his fingers around the shot of bar scotch sitting directly in front of him on the scarred table.
Slumped back in the chair, he spared a glance at the blatant invitation from a leggy blonde with hungry eyes and a black leather skirt that barely covered her crotch. Her Barbie breasts, loosely harnessed in skimpy black lace beneath a white see-through blouse, pressed provocatively against his shoulder as she squeezed slowly by him. A do-me smile tilted the cherry red lips she moistened with a suggestive sweep of her tongue.
He dismissed her with a long, cold look. It not only dimmed the wattage of her smile; it startled a shocked wariness into her eyes and sent her scrambling toward the other side of the room for action. What he wouldn’t let himself find in the booze he sure as hell wasn’t going to find in her—no matter how clear she made it that she not only came cheap, she came often, and in ways that guaranteed him several shots at mindless, numbing oblivion.
If he’d been looking for oblivion, the table would be littered with a dozen empty shot glasses instead of one full one. He stared at the scotch, imagined the drugging taste of it on his tongue, the welcome burn as it slid to the pit of his belly.
On a slow breath, he unclenched his fingers and made himself focus on the big-screen television suspended above the congested bar. It wasn’t the evening news that drew his brooding attention; it was the woman delivering it.
Jillian Kincaid.
She was publishing mogul Darin Kincaid’s darling daughter; she was bona-fide Palm Beach royalty and local television’s answer to Diane Sawyer. And even cloaked in the journalist persona she played to the hilt in her Worth Avenue suit that most likely cost enough to finance a small third-world coup, she also played a leading role in every straight man’s X-rated fantasies.
Through the medium of television, he knew her famous face well. Knew the auburn and ginger hue of her long, lush hair, knew the multifaceted shades of her clear, bright eyes that transitioned from sea to forest green like the Atlantic shifted colors beneath a hide-and-seek sun. He knew the shape and the fullness of the lips she sometimes wrapped around a line of professionally delivered copy. Often she wrapped them around an exposé that made strong men squirm. Regularly she made a man with a weakness for dewy-eyed debutantes imagine those lips wrapped around something that didn’t make for polite table conversation.
Until this morning, everything he’d known about Jillian Kincaid had been limited to the media. That had been just fine. He hadn’t wanted to know any more about her. The fat dossier locked in his glove compartment along with his gun, however, had fleshed out the picture in three-dimensional color.
And now it no longer mattered what he had or hadn’t wanted to know.
On a breath that was weary and weighty and resigned, he rose, dug into his hip pocket for his wallet, and tossed some bills on the table. After one last look at her incredible mouth, he headed out the door.
In less than an hour he was going to invade Jillian Kincaid’s pricey City Place penthouse with his Beretta locked and loaded. And then he was going to wish he’d drained that shot of scotch.
2
“YOU KNOW, A TRUE FRIEND WOULD ARGUE my side on this, Rachael,” Jillian muttered into her cell phone as she stepped out of the Town Car her father had insisted on sending to drive her home from the station. “She wouldn’t be aligning herself with my father like he spoke with the voice of reason.”
She bid Arthur good-bye with an I’ll be fine now, thanks smile and a friendly wave. Her father’s longtime chauffeur had dutifully delivered her to the front door of her building after her eleven o’clock newscast for the fourth night running. Jillian tolerated it more for Arthur’s sake than for her father’s. Arthur was a sweetheart and she didn’t want to get him in trouble on her account.
“That’s because your father is the voice of reason . . . at least on this.” Rachael Hanover sounded both weary and concerned on the other end of the line as Jillian walked briskly through the front door.
“Evening, Ms. Kincaid.” Eddie, the security guard, looked up from his desk in the small alcove to the left of the main doors. “You’re home a little early tonight.”
She’d give Arthur that. He made good time. When she drove, she generally didn’t make it home before the stroke of midnight. Arthur had whipped in and out of traffic and delivered her home by 11:45.
“Hey, Eddie.” Jillian stopped in the foyer and tilted the phone away from her mouth while Rachael ran on about risk and credible threats. “Emily still holding out on you?”
Jillian had lived in one of City Place’s penthouses overlooking the Intracoastal Waterway for two years now. Eddie Jefferies, with his blond good looks, perpetual Florida suntan, and American pie smile, had been the night security guard when she’d moved in. During that time, he’d gotten engaged, gotten married, and now, at the tender age of twenty-three, he was about to become a father.
Eddie tried to hide his jitters behind a dimpled grin. “If that baby doesn’t pop by next week, Doc says he’s going to induce.”
“She’ll be fine.” Jillian walked over to his desk in the alcove and squeezed his arm in reassurance before she headed toward the single bank of elevators. “They’ll both be fine. Your shift about over so you can go home to her?”
Eddie shot the cuff on his blue uniform shirt and checked his watch. “Another half an hour and I’m outta here.”
“Tell her I’m thinking about her, OK?”
“Will do, Ms. Kincaid. And thanks.”
“Good night, Eddie.”
“G’night, Ms. Kincaid.” Eddie’s voice trailed behind her as Jillian punched the up button.
“Surfer boy’s not a daddy yet?” Rachael asked, making Jillian realize she’d tuned out her friend completely.
“Not yet.” Jillian stepped into the cab and hit the button for the penthouse level. “They seem so young,” she added with a frown.
“And at thirty, you’re what—Methuselah?” Rachael speculated, clearly amused.
“I’m not bringing another human being into the world.”
“OK. Hold it. When, exactly, did this train derail? We were talking about your problem. Or was I just filling dead air with my opinion on your stalker while you chitchatted with your doorman about his personal population explosion?”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Jillian pressed an index finger to her temple as the elevator cab gave a gentle lurch and started rising. “And it’s not my stalker. If there even is a stalker.”
Rachael responded with a long silence.
Jillian...

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Verlag
St Martins Pr
Erscheinungsdatum
2005
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
031299091X
ISBN 13 
9780312990916
Einband
Taschenbuch
Anzahl der Seiten
337
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