“Careful, your libido is showing.”
“And I was trying so hard to hide it.”
“What’s the matter, Josh, no new woman in your life?”
“Not in the usual sense, no.”
Bridget’s throat had gone very dry. “Then in what sense?”
He needed to leave before he did something stupid. And yet he wasn’t moving.
And then he was. But he was moving to close the tiny bit of space between them.
The only way she was going to save herself was through bravado, and she knew it.
“You’re in my space, Youngblood,” Bridget informed him hoarsely, trying to sound annoyed.
“What are you going to do about it?”
He half expected her to shove him back. The one thing he hadn’t expected was for Bridget to grab him and press her mouth urgently against his.
And just before she did, he could have sworn that she’d whispered, “Damn you!”
Dear Reader,
Welcome back to the newest branch of the Cavanaughs, the one belonging to Sean, Brian and Andrew’s long-lost brother. This time the story is about Sean’s oldest daughter, Bridget, who finds herself grappling with what she views as a brand-new identity. This while becoming aware of feelings for her partner of three years, Josh Youngblood, feelings she has been trying to ignore because, after all, the man’s relationships have the life expectancy of a fruit fly.
But Josh surprises her by being the one who is there for her while she’s trying to sort out how she feels about this new family connection that has suddenly cropped up in her life as well as the lives of her immediate family members. And all this is played out while Bridget and Josh desperately try to bring down The Lady Killer, a serial killer who surfaces every February to kill as many redheaded women between the ages of twenty and thirty as he can in that short month. Interested? Then please keep reading. I promise to try to entertain you as best as I can.
With all my heart I wish you someone to love who loves you back.
Until the next time,
Marie Ferrarella
About the Author
MARIE FERRARELLA, a USA TODAY bestselling and RITA® Award-winning author, has written more than two hundred books, some under the name Marie Nicole. Her romances are beloved by fans worldwide. Visit her website at www.marieferrarella.com.
Cavanaugh’s
Bodyguard
Marie Ferrarella
To Charlie,
who turned the month of February
into something special
all those years ago.
Chapter 1
Finally.
The thought flashed through Detective Bridget Cavelli’s mind at the same time that she glanced up to verify that the movement she’d detected out of the corner of her eye was her partner and no one else. She’d been waiting for her sexier-than-should-be-legally-allowed partner, Detective Joshua Youngblood, to walk into the squad room for the last half hour. This was precisely the amount of time she’d been going over the notes she had taken a year ago this month.
Her partner wasn’t late. He was on time. She was the one who was early, but that didn’t help to assuage her impatience. She needed to share this with him.
Now.
She struggled to rein in her impatience. It could have been worse. He could have been coming off a forty-eight-hour marathon date and running late rather than coming in right on time.
“He’s back,” Bridget announced to her partner, raising her voice in order to catch his attention.
Detective Joshua Youngblood said nothing in response as he continued walking to his desk. His green eyes were hidden behind exceptionally dark sunglasses. His measured, rhythmic gait brought him to the desk that had been assigned to him for the last three years.
After setting down the extra large container of ink-black coffee, Josh set himself down as well. His chair groaned. It needed oiling.
Once he was seated opposite her did he even acknowledge that he’d heard what Bridget had said by asking in a monotone voice, “Who’s back?”
Bridget, who’d been his partner for as long as he’d been at this desk, leaned back slightly in her chair as she studied his expressionless face. The fact that Josh was still partially hidden behind the sunglasses told her all she needed to know. It was Monday and more likely than not, Josh hadn’t amassed enough sleep over the weekend to keep a squirrel bright-eyed and bushy-tailed or even moderately functioning.
Temporarily forgetting the very cold chill that had gone zigzagging down her spine when the new acting lieutenant had told her the news earlier, Bridget asked her zombie-channeling partner a personal question, taking care not to show the slight spike of jealousy she suddenly experienced. “So, what’s this one’s name?”
For the time being, Josh left his sunglasses on. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
He was focused on removing the lid from the newly purchased, life-affirming black liquid. Josh absolutely hated tasting plastic when he drank his coffee and no matter how careful he tried to be, if he left the lid on, he could taste plastic with each sip.
This morning his hands felt like clumsy bear paws. This was what he got for going to bed ninety minutes before he was due in to work, he silently upbraided himself.
With a suppressed sigh, Bridget rose from her desk and made her way around to his. With a flick of her wrist, she made quick work of the coffee lid, tossing it into his waste paper basket. A thin plume of steam rose up from the inky sea.
“So, this one evaporated your brain as well as your energy?” she asked glibly, deliberately sounding chipper as she commented, “Busy little bee.”
“I was up with a sick friend,” Josh informed her after he had taken an incredibly long sip of his coffee. He could feel it winding through his system. Ever so slowly, he began to feel human again.
“I’ve never known you to make a woman sick, Josh. A little nauseous maybe, but not sick.” Leaning her hip against his desk, Bridget crossed her arms before her and shook her head as she pinned him with a penetrating look. “Don’t you think you should start acting your age, Youngblood? Partying and staying out all night all weekend is great when you’re in college or in your early twenties, but all that’s supposed to be out of your system by the time you start approaching thirty.”
Josh appeared not to be paying any attention to her. Then he surprised her by sighing. “If you’re going to lecture me—” he began.
She pretended to hang on his every word. “Yes?”
He took in a huge fortifying breath before warning her, “Don’t.”
A thousand little devils with tiny hammers pounded and danced around in his head. He was in no mood to listen to a lecture or any so-called words of wisdom his overly talkative partner might want to impart. From the first moment he’d seen her, he’d been of the opinion that she was exceptionally easy on the eyes, but definitely not always so easy on the ears.
“I’m just trying to look out for you,