Page 8 of A Bride for the Bodyguard

As I walk back into the living room, my gaze falls on two small suitcases sitting on the living room floor. “Are you sure this is all you need? Three months is a long time.”

A hint of embarrassment flickers across her face as she smiles weakly. “All my extra cash went into Macaroons by Marlie. This is all I have.”

My heart breaks a little at her words. “No problem, baby. I’ll take these out to the truck.”

As I carry the suitcases outside, my mind races with plans and promises. Marlie’s given up so much already. It’s time she gets a taste of being spoiled.

And I’m just the man to do it.

Every chance I get, my wife will know what it means to be cared for and cherished. Whether Marlie knows it or not, she’s not fighting for her dreams alone anymore. She’s got me now.

And I’m bringing everything I’ve got to the table.

Two hours later, we pull up to the private airport hangar.

Thankfully, the rain is gone, and the sun is high in the sky now, glinting off the hulking metal buildings that line the mostly empty tarmac. In the center of the runway, a gleaming private jet stands out like an elegant swan in a sea of mechanical geese.

I look over and steal a glance at Marlie. She’s staring out the window with wide-eyed wonder. “Is all this for us?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Of course,” I reply, reaching over to give her leg a reassuring squeeze. “Only the best for my bride-to-be.” Her cheeks flush at my words and I can’t help but grin. She probably thinks I’m teasing her, but nothing could be further from the truth.

Hopping out of the truck, I jog around to Marlie’s side and open her door. She places her hand in mine as she steps out and doesn’t pull away when I lead her towards our ride.

The interior of the jet is plush and inviting with roomy leather seats and ambient lighting.

Marlie takes a seat across the aisle from me—I wish she’d chosen my lap instead—but I know better than to push it now.

The airplane’s hum settles into a steady rhythm as we nestle into our seats. A flight attendant holding a silver tray with two champagne flutes appears in the aisle like an apparition.

“Good morning, Mr. Barton,” she greets us with a friendly nod. Would you and Mrs. Barton like a glass of champagne before we take off?”

“That sounds great, Elise. Thank you,” I tell her as I take the glasses from her and hand one to Marlie.

Once Elise walks away, I raise my glass to Marlie’s with a clink. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” she echoes softly. And I can’t tear my eyes away from her as she takes a sip, her pouty lips closing around the glass.

Inside, I’m a raging inferno of curiosity and desire.

Every cell in my body is attuned to her reactions, to the subtle shift in her breathing, to the way her tongue darts out to wet her lips after each sip of champagne.

What’s her history? Has anyone ever truly appreciated her?

The thought of her past lovers makes something territorial rear within me, and I’m suddenly eager to know what she’d be like beneath me, around me, lost in the heat we could generate together.

I glance up to find Marlie’s curious gaze fixed on me. She clears her throat. “So, what’s the plan for today?” she asks.

Her question is a welcome distraction. “Well, first we get married,” I start, a hint of amusement in my voice. “I’ve arranged for a small private ceremony with the justice of the peace on top of my family’s hotel balcony. After that, we can grab some dinner and head to my apartment to settle in.”

She pauses mid-sip. “Your family has a hotel?”

“It’s been in our family for decades. My brother John recently bought it from our parents so they could retire.”

Marlie tilts her head slightly, processing the information. “Does your brother run it all by himself? That seems like a lot. My sister’s husband runs a resort in Wyoming, but they have a whole army of people working for them now.”

I shake my head smiling at her concern. “No, he’s actually running it with his wife, Lisa.” A pause ensues before I add casually, “Their situation is sort of like ours, now that I think about it.”

She wrinkles her nose in confusion. “What do you mean?”

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