Read Online Bodyguard Under the Mistletoe by Cassie Miles - Free Book Online

clothes felt clammy against her skin. It would have been nice to present herself in a better light to Jesse. She wanted him to appreciate her, maybe even to think she was attractive.
    She hadn’t dated since Wyatt’s death, hadn’t cared what anybody thought of her appearance. Now I care. I definitely care .
    Warmth flooded her cheeks. She stood a little straighter, aware that the waistband on her jeans was too loose. She’d lost too much weight. All her shirts drooped straight down from her shoulders. I want to be pretty again .
    Turning away from him, she peeled off her green corduroy jacket and draped it on a peg by the door. “Have you eaten?”
    â€œNo more oatmeal,” he said. “How are you at solving puzzles?”
    â€œI can usually make things fit together.” Her fingers laced together. “Working with clay gives me a good sense of space and balance.”
    â€œThis isn’t about spatial relationships. It’s logic.”
    She winced. “Not my best thing.”
    â€œI can use your help, anyway. I’ve been going over the crime files on the computer Burke gave me. There’s a rational sequence of events, but I’m missing something.”
    She glanced down the hall toward her daughter’s bedroom. “After Abby goes to sleep, we can go over the files.”
    Suddenly alert, he pivoted on his heel and strode toward the window. “Someone’s coming.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œDon’t you hear the approaching vehicle?”
    She listened hard, vaguely hearing the sound of a car engine. “I’m not expecting anyone.”
    Jesse moved to the edge of the window and peeked through the drapes. “A silver SUV. Cadillac.”
    She never paid attention to cars, but she knew one family who drove only Cadillacs. It couldn’t be them! Fate wouldn’t be so cruel. She had enough to worry about.
    The car door slammed with a solid thunk. She came close to Jesse and looked through the window. When she saw the driver emerge, she gasped. He looked like her late husband—a younger version. He had Wyatt’s walk. His blond hair was curly, like Wyatt’s. For a moment, she thrilled to a deeply embedded memory—seeing Wyatt come home from work, come home to her waiting arms.
    But this young man despised her.
    â€œIt’s Wyatt’s son from his first marriage. Clinton Grant.”

Chapter Seven
    Years ago, Fiona met her stepson for the first time at a Grant family dinner that took place a few weeks before her wedding.
    Clinton had been a sullen teenager who resented her and blamed her for the failure of his parents’ marriage even though Wyatt and his first wife were divorced for over a year before Fiona met him. The first words young Clinton had spoken to her were “You’re too young for my father. And you aren’t even pretty.”
    His mother had laughed at his unsubtle inference to Fiona as a trophy wife. Clinton’s younger sister had merely glared.
    Fiona’s pride had ruled the day. She refused to be drawn into a bitching match. Without hurling a single insult, she lifted her chin and walked away.
    That brief exchange set the tone for all future confrontations. Even now, when Clinton was all grown up, a graduate of law school who had already started work in the family firm, his attitude toward Fiona had not mellowed.
    He hammered on the front door. With each heavy thud of his fist, her anger ratcheted higher, but she refused to let Clinton know how much he affected her. Over the years, she’d always faced him with ice, not fire.
    She stiffened her spine and opened the door. “Clinton, I’m so surprised to see you. Unfortunately, this isn’t a convenient time.”
    He peered past her shoulder and saw Jesse. “Am I interrupting a booty call?”
    â€œMay I introduce Jesse Longbridge? He’s my bodyguard.”
    â€œWhatever.” He stepped forward, but she