The Bodyguard

The Bodyguard
Sheryl Lynn

Broad shouldered and impressive: Everything a bodyguard should be–and more!J. T. McKennon was all a man was supposed to be. Loyal, strong, responsible and determined–not to mention the way he could kiss. As a bodyguard he was the ultimate protector. But as far as Frankie–don't call me Francine–Forrest was concerned, he was nothing but trouble.With her bad-seed brother-in-law dead, her sister's kidnappers expecting a hefty ransom and the FBI investigating her, Frankie had to rely on McKennon's expertise to root out the abductors, his strength to keep her safe. But protected in his embrace, was her heart in the gravest danger…?Elk River, ColoradoWhere men still stand tall–and know how to treat a woman.

“Are you coming on to me, McKennon?” (#ufda29489-06a2-550f-9bdf-f843563476d1)Letter to Reader (#u819ee739-0de0-5ce5-b3d2-00a83815f816)Title Page (#u7905e45f-3af1-5b01-af52-cd9807be6b8a)Dedication (#uce544ad6-d95c-5bb9-aae6-baaa5885afb2)CAST OF CHARACTERS (#u9330f481-038a-5461-ba4b-7a308bb7e3b3)Chapter One (#u94d6e863-f3cf-5131-9777-b2993293a86e)Chapter Two (#u413244e8-23cf-523f-b56b-bbec9d6169da)Chapter Three (#ua4de60c1-6c16-5d6f-b539-3a1dfa05154a)Chapter Four (#u470fd760-f79c-5a0e-b5d8-8ed8f7a08cec)Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)Teaser chapter (#litres_trial_promo)Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

“Are you coming on to me, McKennon?”

“Yes.” He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

Frankie lifted her head to reply. He kissed her lips. A soft tender kiss, the barest press of flesh to flesh.

His answer pleased her, but deepened her guilt. With her sister in danger she could afford herself no pleasure. “Bad timing.”

“In more ways than you know.” He pressed a finger to her chin and urged her to look at him. Feeling suddenly shy and strangely vulnerable, she resisted. “When we get your sister back, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

She cracked a smile. “What if I said you’re not my type?”

Chuckling, he curled his hand around the back of her head and drew her forehead-to-forehead with him. His embrace accomplished what reason could not. Hope feathered upward from deep in her belly.

“I’d like to get to know you better.” He kissed her again.

She couldn’t have resisted him if she’d tried. She explored the texture of his lips and tasted the sweetness of his mouth.

“Is it a date?” he asked.

She sensed in him the power to make her believe in loyalty and goodness again. “Sure,” she whispered. “It’s a date.”

Dear Reader,

Sexy and sweet, tough and tender. These are the men of ELK RIVER, COLORADO. The men who still stand tall and know how to treat a woman. The men whom Sheryl Lynn writes about with emotion and passion in her new duet.

You may remember the legendary Duke family of Colorado, whom Sheryl first introduced in a duet called HONEYMOON HIDEAWAY a few years back. These titles—#424 The Case of the Vanished Groom and #425 The Case of the Bad Luck Fiancé—are still available. Send $3.99 ($4.50 CAN.) for each title ordered, plus $.75 shipping and handling ($1.00 CAN.) to Harlequin Reader Service: 3010 Walden Av., Buffalo, NY 144269, or P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ontario L2A 5X3

And be sure to be on hand next month when ELK RIVER, COLORADO continues with Undercover Fiancé.

Happy Reading!

Debra Matteucci

Senior Editor & Editorial Coordinator

Harlequin Books

300 East 42nd Street

New York, NY 10017

The Bodyguard

Sheryl Lynn

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

To my grandmothers, Evelyn Roberts and Alma Hawk,

gifted storytellers who inspire me to dream.

Love you, ladies.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Frankie Forrest—She’ll protect her baby sister even if it means going to prison or forsaking the man she loves.

J. T. McKennon—A bodyguard torn between doing his job and saving the woman he loves.

Penny Bannerman—She’s all grown up and loves her new husband to death.

Julius Bannerman—This playboy causes more problems dead than he ever did alive.

Max Caulfield—He wants his wife’s money, and too bad for anyone who gets in his way.

Belinda Bannerman Caulfield—Julius is her boy, and heaven help any woman foolish enough to get between her and her son.

Bo Moran—He’s about to make the score of his life.

Chuck and Paul Cashorali—Bumbling brothers who are crooks without a clue.

Chapter One

“Stop the wedding!”

Frankie Forrest’s cry echoed through the thin mountain air and towering pines. A blue jay screamed in raucous reply. As Frankie slammed the car door and lunged toward the chapel, she stepped on a patch of ice. Feeling herself sliding, she shifted her weight, overcompensated, lost her balance and fell onto her right knee. Her teeth clacked, jarring her skull.

Pain jangled from kneecap to hip. Stars burst before her eyes. Arms outspread, her back at an awkward angle, she lifted her face to heaven.

A very bad sign, she thought in dour superstition. Dark forces conspired to keep her away from her sister.

Wary now, she got to her feet. She gingerly tested her right leg. Her knee throbbed, but it bent the way it should and she could walk.

A long, white limousine idled in the parking lot. The exhaust formed crawling clouds. The driver most likely kept the interior warm for the bride and groom. Frankie shivered. It had been a mild forty degrees when she left her apartment in Colorado Springs, but here, at an altitude of eight thousand feet, the temperature hovered in the low twenties. She wore a fleecy sweatshirt, but the cold pierced the thick cotton and pricked her flesh. Her blue jeans might as well have been made of nylon net—already her thighs were tingling. She glanced toward the chapel. Its roof and spire were visible through the trees. She jammed a key into the trunk lock and gave it a hard twist. The trunk snapped open. She grabbed her parka and shoved her arms into the puffy sleeves.

Her sister hated this parka and urged Frankie every year to buy a new coat. Frankie had owned it since high school and hadn’t found another that felt as good. Its age showed in faded blue nylon, permanent stains and numerous small tears. She had repaired the big rips, but used whatever thread was handy, so clumsy stitches in black, white, red and green marred the ragged fabric. Penny called it the Frankenstein coat.

She noticed logos printed on the driver’s-side doors of two vehicles in the parking lot. A blue circle with a bugling bull elk, its rack of antlers overlapping the circle perimeter—Elk River Resort.

“Traitors,” she growled. She’d learned about the wedding only a few hours ago. A terse, anonymous voice on her answering machine had said, “Penny is marrying Julius at Elk River Resort today. Are you going to let it happen?” She’d be damned if she would let it happen.

She limped up the path to Sweet Pines Chapel. With each step her hurt and anger swelled. Penny knew exactly how Frankie felt about Julius and his family, and Penny knew why. Despite all her promises—her lies!—the brat had gone behind Frankie’s back and married that perverted loser anyway.