“Why on earth does she need a bodyguard?” Marcus seemed genuinely bewildered as he knocked back his scotch. By Harvard’s count, that was his third since they’d started talking.
“Benson Security deals with some shady people. Rachel was in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up on the radar of someone we’d rather didn’t know about her. I’m sticking close until the situation’s resolved.”
“In other words, Rachel managed to irritate the wrong person,” Marcus said with a guffaw. “No surprise there.”
“Don’t blame her,” Samantha reprimanded. “She can’t help how she is.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my sister,” Jonathan told her.
Samantha shrugged. “That’s what I meant.”
Marcus held up his hands. “We all know that Rachel delights in offending everyone she meets, why pretend otherwise?”
“She doesn’t delight in it,” Samantha said. “As I already told you, she simply can’t help it.”
“Oh, but I can.” Rachel stepped up beside Harvard. She handed him a drink, making him grin. “I got you your usual, darling. Sorry it took so long, but I got waylaid by Grandmother.”
Preston and Marcus gaped at him as Samantha started to giggle.
“Your usual is a strawberry daiquiri?” Jonathan asked.
Harvard took a large gulp and managed to quash the resulting shudder. “Can’t get enough of the stuff.” He draped an arm around Rachel’s shoulders. “Thanks, honeybunny.”
Her cousins and brother all worked hard to stifle their laughter as they looked anywhere but at Rachel, who stared at him with the promise of death in her eyes. Harvard made a mental note to Google more annoying pet names for her as soon as he got home.
“Let me see the ring,” Samantha gushed, taking Rachel’s hand.
To Harvard’s surprise, she didn’t tug it free. Instead, she sighed as Samantha admired her engagement ring.
“Platinum and diamond.” Samantha arched an eyebrow at him. “Very chic setting too. Your man has good taste. And deep pockets for a bodyguard it would seem.”
Rachel extracted her hand. “I do hope you aren’t being so crass as to question how he could afford it.” Her eyes narrowed at all of them. “Because that would be beneath you.”
Damn, she was glorious. Harvard tugged her to him, earning himself a frown of disapproval. “Rachel’s worth every penny I spent.” And wasn’t that the truth?
“Rachel,” Preston said, obviously over discussing her ring. “Who did you insult to earn a bodyguard?”
Rachel didn’t miss a beat. “The South American drug cartel that blew up Father’s private plane.”
Jaws dropped.
“Are you crazy?” Marcus said at last.
“No.” Rachel calmly sipped her red wine. “Just very angry. I promised Father I’d return it in one piece, not thousands.”
“And now you can’t go anywhere alone because your life is in danger.” Preston shook his head at her. “You’ve become reckless. I’m not sure being involved with a security company is good for you.” He glanced at Harvard. “No offense intended.”
Harvard inclined his head at him. “None taken.”
“I don’t think it’s all bad,” Samantha said, her eyes on Harvard. “After all, it did get her a bodyguard and a fiancé. I’m actually quite jealous. I think I need to get a bodyguard too.” Her eyes widened. “It just occurred to me that you’re paying your fiancé to take care of you. How very liberated.”
If anyone else picked up on the double meaning of her words, it didn’t show. From the look on her face, you would assume she was innocent enough and that any subtext had been a mistake. But her eyes told a different story. Her eyes stayed on Harvard. And they were tinged with desire.
“Have you two set a date yet?” Preston asked.
“No,” Rachel said at the same time as Harvard said, “Preferably soon.”
Jonathan laughed, while Harvard waggled his eyebrows at his supposed fiancée. She wasn’t amused.
“Oh, do let me pick the bridesmaid dresses,” Samantha pleaded. “I’d just die if I didn’t get the right color for my complexion.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” Rachel said dryly. “Who said you’re a bridesmaid anyway? Last I checked, the bride got to choose.”
“Of course, I’m going to be one of your bridesmaids. Possibly your only one.” She arched an eyebrow at Rachel. “We all know how good you are at making friends.”
“Point taken,” Rachel said. “I’ll allow you to act as a bridesmaid.”
“And the dresses—assuming you manage to find more than one bridesmaid? We both know I have better fashion sense than you. Otherwise you would have ducked out of our seasonal shopping sprees years ago.”
“Fine, but the dresses better not upstage the bride.”
“Would I do that?” Samantha feigned horror.
“In a second,” Rachel said.
“I hate to be the voice of doom,” Preston said, “but you do have a prenup, don’t you? If you don’t, I have experience in drawing them up, even though it isn’t my area of expertise.” He cast a wary glance at Harvard. “You really should have one. You never know what the future might hold.”
“In other words,” Harvard drawled, “he’s worried your lowly American bodyguard is after your money.” If only they knew how much he was worth on his own. While at MIT, he’d discovered that not only did he have a knack for analytical methodologies, but he was also damn good at playing the stock market too.
Preston turned red and blustered. “I don’t mean to be insulting, but Rachel is a very wealthy woman, and she should protect herself.”
It was clear her cousin meant well, so Harvard let him off the hook. “I wouldn’t marry her without one. I don’t want Rachel’s money—I want her body.” He winked at her. “And her heart.” And wasn’t that the truth. “I’ll sign whatever you draw up.”
“My goodness.” Samantha fanned herself. “An honorable man in this day and age. Where did you find him?”
“I thought we’d already established that I rent him by the hour,” Rachel said, making Harvard laugh. At least she’d picked up on her cousin’s earlier dig. “And let me tell you, services the likes of which Harvard provides don’t come cheap.” Solemnly, she looked up at him. “It’s no wonder you don’t need my money. You make enough of your own.”
“You know.” Samantha considered her cousin. “I think you’ve also become more sarcastic since you went to work for this security company.”
“I don’t work for them,” Rachel said. “They work for me. I’m a partner.”
“Well, you were,” Jonathan said, reminding them of the other half of their cover.
“You were?” Marcus leaned forward, yet another full glass of whiskey in his hand and a glazed look in his eye. The man was at least three sheets to the wind. “Did you sell your stake? What are you doing now? I thought you’d found your niche at Benson Security.”