SEALed With Love (DiCarlo Brides book 2) (The DiCarlo Brides)
Read SEALed With Love (DiCarlo Brides book 2) (The DiCarlo Brides) Online
Authors: Heather Tullis
Tags: #clean romance, #Paranormal Romance, #Stalkers, #Navy SEALs, #DiCarlo Brides series
© 2013 Heather Justesen
Ebook Edition
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Published by Jelly Bean Press, 90 S Main St. Ste #2, Fillmore, UT 84631
Cover design by Bill J. Justesen
Cover design © 2013 by Heather Justesen
Excerpt from Reclaiming His Bride
Camellia DiCarlo Talmadge (Cami)—
the oldest of George DiCarlo’s daughters, born to his wife, head of guest services.
Sage Parker Watts
—Second eldest, head of the resort Spa. Born to Darla Parker.
Rosemary Keogh
—Third eldest of George DiCarlo’s daughters, born to Wanda Keogh, head of resort food services.
Lantana DiCarlo (Lana
)—Fourth eldest, second daughter by George’s wife, hotel manager.
Delphinium Gifford (Delphi)—
Fifth eldest daughter by Zelda Gifford, head of resort events.
Jonquil Chestnut
—Sixth eldest daughter by Trudy Chestnut, head of the resort floral center.
Cleome Markham
—Rosemary Keogh’s daughter.
Vince Talmadge
—Landscape architect, best friend of Jeremy and Gage.
Jeremy Litster
—local photographer, best friend of Vince and Gage.
Gage Mathews
—head of Deer Mountain, the local ski resort. Best friend to Vince and Jeremy.
Harrison Forest
—older half-brother to Sage by another father. Head of hotel HR.
Blake Bahlmann
—regional manager of DiCarlo Resorts, stationed out of the Juniper Ridge resort.
Joel Watts
—former Navy SEAL, head of hotel security.
Five months earlier, April
Sage threaded in and out of the streaming LA throngs and wished she’d didn’t have to leave for work at peak commute time. She liked people, but fighting through them wasn’t exactly her idea of a party. And it was all too easy to hide in a crowd—which would be more of an advantage if she knew who she should be hiding from.
He
didn’t have that problem.
She scanned the mass of humanity, looking for a familiar face, anyone she might have seen before, then checked her watch again. If she missed this train, she would be late. She had been distracted by her father’s email, which was chatty and full of news about the resort he was preparing to open that fall. He put on a good front of all-is-well, but she had known something was wrong—known it as only she could, despite his denials. The fact that he hadn’t come for his regular visit reiterated that. She’d have to use her break this afternoon to meditate and see if she could figure it out, since he wasn’t giving anything away.
A small boy weaved through the jungle of legs, followed by a man who called for him to stop. Sage shifted to the side so the boy ran into her, then she grabbed his shoulders, and stopped him from falling backward as he bounced off of her. She glanced up into the round face of a frazzled man. “I believe this one belongs to you.”
He hefted the tow-headed toddler into his arms. “Yes, sorry about that. He’s as slippery as an eel sometimes.”
Sage smiled in relief when the child giggled as if it had been a good game. The boy was comfortable with the man. “No problem.”
The man pivoted to the right, heading toward a store.
Feeling someone watching her, Sage adjusted her hemp macramé bag over one shoulder and glanced around again. Her eyes stopped on a tall man with a shaved head, mirrored sunglasses and a light brown goatee. He oozed dark alertness, an aura of control, and he was looking in her direction. Her heart sped up, her breath caught and she turned back toward the subway.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen him, or even the third or fourth. In the past few days he seemed to pop up behind her all over town. There was no explanation for his repeated presence except that he was following her. Sage’s hands grew sweaty as she darted farther into the crowd. If he was the one who had been stalking her, she had to get away. There was a tough wariness about him, a hardened edge that said he went after whatever he wanted, and he never gave up. She hadn’t felt his presence until that week, though the stalker had been contacting her for a couple of months, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dangerous.
If he was the one, there may be no safe place to hide in LA.
Just before the train pulled out, she managed to slide through the doors and find a corner to hide in while the panic attack took over. Standing on the far end of the car, she grasped a handle until her knuckles turned white. She put her back to the wall so she could see everyone and checked for the man several times, making sure no one else was paying attention to her while she dealt with the light-headedness and nausea that often accompanied her racing heart and difficulty breathing.
Maybe she should take her father up on the job offer in his Colorado resort. She couldn’t keep living like this.
While she provided reflexology treatments to the day spa’s elite clientele, Sage fought the implacable image of the man in her mind. She had been at work for nearly two hours and was finally starting to feel the inner peace her job usually provided when she opened the door to leave her treatment room. Standing on the other side, his fist raised to knock, was the Goliath of a man she’d seen in the street.
Her breathing stopped as terror filled her all over again. She tried to shut the door, but his hand shot out, blocking it open. “Go away.” She’d meant the words to be calm and forceful, but they’d come out tight and whispery as her panic grew. What would she do? What
could
she do against someone his size?
“Hey, I’m sorry I scared you.” His voice was a low rumble. He pulled off his mirrored sunglasses and hung them by one stem in the neck of his tight white T-shirt. He lifted his free hand as if to reassure her that he didn’t have a gun or a knife, but she seriously doubted someone that buff needed a weapon to maim or kill. “My name is Joel Watts,” he said, “and your dad sent me.” He handed her a business card which was printed with the name of a private security firm.
Though she wouldn’t take the card at face value, her throat unclogged a little so she could suck in some air. “My dad?” No one knew who her dad was—or almost no one. Her father had been surprisingly adept at keeping their connection a secret despite his high profile and his hundreds of phone calls and visits through the years.
“George DiCarlo,” he confirmed. “He’s concerned about your stalker and sent me to look out for you. Look, I’m sorry I scared you earlier today. I didn’t mean to. Call him if you need to verify my story.”
“Why have you been following me?” Her voice was returning to normal, though her senses were still on alert. This man was lethal; she knew it down to her core. Why would her dad send him to follow her without warning her first?