Colt, Billionaire Reunion: Sweet, Clean Christian Romance with Suspense (Billionaire Protectors Book 2) Read online

  The ex-wife who’d never once visited him at the lab.

  The man’s lips tightened, and he shook his head, so she showed her ID. His gaze became a little more open as he read her name on the small plastic rectangle.

  “Yes, ma’am. Would you like to come in?”

  She lifted the take-out bag again. “Food shouldn’t go near chemicals.” That was her excuse, and she was sticking to it. She was not going inside the lab.

  The man nodded, spoke briefly on his phone, told her to wait, and then disappeared behind the door marked Staff Only.

  The minimalist-style vestibule gave no sign this was the lab of a billionaire inventor. No sign of Colt, either. Though unintentionally, she’d caused him so much pain he might not want to see her right now. Or ever.

  Especially once she told him she’d need to leave again.

  The bouquet might have an innocent explanation. Or it might mean a killer, or his copycat, intended to kill again. Her ads for her new business must have been the trigger. She’d as good as put out a billboard announcing “Here I am, come and get me.”

  She’d been a fool to feel safe. For her, there was no safe.

  Not now, and not ever.

  Chapter Two

  The air whooshed out of Mirabella’s lungs, and her heartbeat accelerated as Colt appeared at the lab door. She always had this intense physical reaction to him, though she tried to quash it.

  “Hello, Mirabella.” As good at hiding his emotions as she was, his handsome face betrayed no signs of surprise. No sign if he was pleased or not to see her here.

  Opening an unmarked door off to the left, he waved her in.

  The nondescript office she entered was little bigger or better furnished than her own. Despite his wealth, Colt never was one for lavish living. “I brought us lunch.” She deposited the food containers on a mahogany desk as worn and scarred as her face and body were now. “We… we need to talk.”

  Somehow, she resisted the urge to smooth his slightly ruffled brown hair the way she used to. The trimmed beard he wore now suited him, accentuated the strong line of his jaw. Her pulse increased as she breathed the familiar scent of his musky cologne, reminding her of the times she’d found a safe haven in his arms.

  Just one glance in his blue eyes, and she was that woman again. Slammed back five years and crazy in love with him.

  No, she couldn’t be. She knew better now.

  A slow smile curved his lips as he examined the containers and raised an eyebrow. He glanced up at her. “You remember my favorite food.”

  “And you remember my favorite flowers. That’s why I’m here.”

  Her heart twisted as his smile vanished.

  “So, you didn’t send me the bouquet.” A statement, not a question.

  “Must’ve been somebody else.” Was that a flash of jealousy in his eyes?

  No. He’d have to care about her first. And he’d made it completely clear this past year. She might be back, but their marriage was over. They saw each other for the children’s sake. No other reason.

  Just the way she wanted it. Better to keep her hard-won freedom and independence. Some women weren’t cut out for marriage, and she was one of them.

  She opened the containers, the mouthwatering scent of the sweet barbecue sauce a contrast to her bitter thoughts. “Must have been. Probably, the serial killer.”

  Her words emerged as airy and matter of fact as if she’d said the gardener or a neighbor. Good. Colt mustn’t guess how much the daisies rattled her.

  As he helped her open the last container, worry settled in his blue eyes and creased his forehead. So, he made the connection.

  He found paper plates, plastic utensils, and paper napkins in a cabinet and placed them on the table. No fine porcelain, monogrammed napkins, and silver cutlery here. At work, he obviously forgot his status. Not that he played it up much at home, either.

  Sitting at the desk, he eyed her, clearly puzzled. “But you said Cantorini was dead.”

  She sank onto a mismatched wood chair without invitation. “I thought so, but I could be wrong. Or it could be a copycat. Or a relative, looking for revenge. Or Cantorini was the copycat, and the real Daisy Killer is back. Announcing I was back in Austin and back in business told anyone with a reason to go after me where they’d find me.”

  “A wrong delivery address?” Hope smoothed his voice as he pulled bottles from a small fridge and placed them on the table. Water for him and her favorite iced green tea for her.

  So he kept her favorite drink in his office still?

  “Yep, another Mirabella Jarvis working close by. That must be it.” Her tone light, she shrugged and unscrewed the cap on her drink. No reason to alarm herself or anyone else more than she already had. “I’d better check with Mr. McCoy, Karli’s father. He’s formed a support group for relatives of the Daisy Killer’s victims. He’ll know if anyone else received daisies or just me.”

  The last thing she wanted was more pain for those who’d already suffered so much. But if it wasn’t just her, it would be reassuring. Because if it was only her…

  Would she have to stay away from the twins again to avoid bringing danger into their lives? The thought sliced her gut. She remembered too well what had happened the last time.

  If only she’d told Colt what she was about to do then. But she didn’t want to risk his and the children’s lives. Didn’t want to risk him trying to stop her. Hadn’t realized how little he trusted her. If there was a degree in keeping secrets, she’d have her PhD by now. She’d learned from the best. Her mother, who’d kept her infidelities hidden for years.

  Mirabella’s rib cage constricted at the painful memories.

  “I’ll pray for you. And I’ll hire a bodyguard. Several bodyguards, if needed.” Concern twisted his lips and carved deeper creases in his brow as he gazed across the desk.

  Concern for her? No, she knew better. Concern for the children. It might upset them if they lost their mother again.

  “Thank you for praying.” Something she had difficulty with. She’d tried, but if she couldn’t trust the people she could see, how could she trust a God she couldn’t see? “And no thank you, on bodyguards. I like my privacy. I’m capable of defending myself.” She raised her chin and narrowed her eyes, daring him to question that.

  With his black belt in taekwondo, Colt could be a bodyguard himself if he wanted a change from the lab. He’d always shown a protective streak. One of the many things attracting her to him as soon as they met, even if it sometimes irritated and frustrated her.

  As if piercing blue eyes, chiseled features, and an athletic physique weren’t enough. That protectiveness, silent inner strength, and a backbone of values had drawn her to him then. All the things lacking in her life when she’d been growing up, and in her first marriage, too. His endearing dedication to her children sealed the deal.

  She’d fallen for him fast and hard. When things had been good between them, they’d been very good. But like daisies, the good things withered and died fast.

  “You’re too stubborn for your own good.” Jaw clenched, he shook his head.

  Ignoring his objections, she bowed her head. “Let’s eat. The food is getting cold.”

  As always, he said grace. As always, she didn’t say a word, apart from echoing his amen.

  When she looked up, she caught a trace of sadness in his eyes, quickly gone. She chewed on one of the ribs. The delicious barbecue sank like a stone in her stomach. “Thank you for taking such good care of the twins. If anything happens to me, they’ll be fine.”

  He dismissed her thanks with a wave of his hand. “I love them. No need to thank me.”

  He’d adopted them and raised them as his own, though they weren’t blood related. She admired that. As if she needed one more thing to admire about Colt Jarvis.

  Easy antidote. All he’d said the night she’d left. Harsh and untrue accusations he’d never apologized for. But at least she could be sure, if something happened to her, th
e kids would be well taken care of. Maybe better taken care of.

  Her throat constricted, and she barely pushed a tiny mouthful of baked potato past the tightness. Such hard work regaining the twins’ trust. Especially Kitty’s. The girl had always been the more independent of the two. So like her. They still didn’t call her Mom, and she didn’t ask them to. Would they ever?

  And if her life was in danger again, should she walk away to keep them safe—like she’d done before?

  He seemed to read her mind as he placed a barbecue rib back on the plate. “You’re going to disappear again, aren’t you?”

  “I’ll need to go to Australia, to be sure of some facts about Cantorini and the accident. Just a quick trip. I won’t be gone long.” She took a sip of her cold green tea. She’d said that the last time, too, and meant it just as much then as she did now. “When I come back, I need to check on a few other possible suspects, too, right here in Austin. Besides, I promised the twins I’d go with you when you take them to David’s ranch for their summer camp. I’ll be back in time for that.”

  “They’ll be upset if you don’t.” A hint of skepticism crinkled the edges of his gaze. So he remembered she’d said it last time. “Would you like me to travel with you?” His expression stayed neutral, but something in his bright eyes intent on her as he waited for her reply suggested he cared about her reply.

  Yes! Her heart turned somersaults at the thought he wanted to be with her.

  But she couldn’t imagine he truly did. And even if he did, things weren’t ever going to happen between them again. He didn’t trust her. And despite their strong chemistry, she wasn’t the right woman for him. Never would be.

  “With Ashley away on vacation, the twins need you here till they leave for their camp.” Good. Her voice stayed firm, didn’t betray her.

  No hint of that longing for her old loving relationship with Colt to return.

  Though “how they were” had been only a make-believe of what a marriage should be, based on little more than physical attraction and shared love for the kids. Things were even less likely to work out now.

  Did she imagine his gaze dimmed as he scooped up a forkful of baked potato, then put his fork down untasted? “You, on the other hand, don’t need me at all.”

  “I…” Wordless, she trailed off and stared at him. So close to her, just the width of the table, yet it felt as if she looked through a thick wall of bulletproof glass. One of the things his lab had improved greatly, his specialty.

  But who erected that wall? Him? Her? Or both of them?

  And did she want to take it down?

  After the mess of her first marriage, she’d worked hard to be independent, to take care of herself, to need no one. To be the opposite of her mother, who’d needed a constant supply of male admiration to feel worthy and sought it in affairs.

  In her work life and her relationships, Mirabella had succeeded. But what did she have to show for it?

  The twins maintained their distance from her. Her car was on a lease, her apartment rented. Her real first name still felt foreign to her even after a year. And as for her last name? She wasn’t Mrs. Jarvis any longer. But she didn’t want to change back to her maiden name, a painful reminder of her mother’s infidelities and her father’s rage. Or her first husband’s name, associated with his verbal abuse and unfaithfulness.

  After years of living under a different name on a different continent, she no longer knew who she really was. Even her own face and body after the accident and all the surgeries weren’t the way she was supposed to look.

  Who was she?

  And more important, were the people she loved most in danger again because of her?

  If not for Colt, then for her children, she had to find out. Hopefully, before the warning of the bouquet became a reality.

  A reminder. Time was precious. None of us knew how much we had left, how long we had before we’d be pushing up daisies.

  Before she could stop herself, she reached out to Colt and touched his hand. “Thank you for offering to come with me.”

  A mistake. Not what a tough, defensive woman should do if she wanted to stay strong. But as his eyes widened and the blue warmed, something hard and guarded in her heart softened. She could love this man all over again.

  She could.

  But she wouldn’t.

  And shouldn’t.

  She didn’t have the right to do this. Not if she might bring danger on him and the twins. Not when she had to leave soon. Not when there was still so much she hadn’t told him. She jerked her hand back.

  And just like that, the fragile hint of a connection between them shattered.

  Lips tight, shoulders stiff, he shook his head. “Who are you really, Mirabella? One moment you’re tough, acting like you couldn’t care less. Then you’re here bringing me lunch. I thought I knew you. But you chose your job over me and the twins.”

  And you chose to believe the worst about me.

  The bottled-up anger in his words and her unspoken reply hit her like a slap. They needed to talk about this, she knew. But she didn’t have any answers for him.

  Shaking her short hair back, she dragged in a deep breath and lifted her chin. “I made my share of mistakes in our marriage, and I’m sorry for that. Too many mistakes, and I have no clue how to fix them. Especially when it seems I might be bringing danger to your doorstep again. Yes, I may need to disappear, if that’s what it takes to keep the twins safe. As for who I am, I’m not sure I know.”

  “At least, you have the courage to admit it. Courage is one quality you’ve never lacked.”

  A backhanded compliment. Okay, so she did lack plenty of others. But if he wanted to bait her, she refused to bite.

  He eyed her, then picked up his fork again. “There’s something I need to tell you before I forget. It could be connected with the flowers. I had an interesting meeting with Mr. Marlowe. He mentioned you.”

  His gaze focused intently on her, and though he appeared to sit relaxed in his seat, an edge tightened his voice even as tension tightened his shoulders and jaw.

  Clearly, this was some sort of test. And with a man who’d never truly trusted her, chances were, she’d flunk it. She could pretend to Colt she didn’t care. But she’d never been good at pretending that to herself.

  Chapter Three

  Mirabella’s brows pulled together. Trying to behave as if nothing had happened between her and Colt, as if she didn’t care if he believed she spoke the truth or not, if he trusted her or not, she sipped at her iced tea. “The name doesn’t ring a bell. Is he one of my former clients from my time working for your brother?”

  Chewing a bite from a barbecue rib, Colt shook his head. “I doubt it. I sold him manufacturing rights to a few of my inventions in the past, and he wanted me to let him have a new product the lab developed. But I’m not at all pleased with the quality control at his facilities and told him so. I already have a factory lined up for it. He wasn’t happy about being refused.”

  She admired Colt’s success, but she’d never told him. So many things she should’ve told him. Why hadn’t she? Why didn’t she now?

  Somehow, the words stuck in her throat. Another sip of sweet green tea soured in her mouth.

  “Okay. How did my name get mixed up in that?”

  “As he got up to leave, he said, ‘I understand. It’s difficult to let go of something that’s dear to you, isn’t it? I heard Mirabella is back after a long hiatus. And more beautiful than ever.”

  Whoever he was, the guy was wrong on both counts. She wasn’t dear to Colt, and she wasn’t beautiful anymore, either.

  She made a dismissive wave, then used her fork to spread her potato around her plate, as if she could choke some down. “That could explain the daisies. He might’ve found out they were my favorite flowers. I’m not interested in your Mr. Marlowe in the least.”

  Colt’s eyes narrowed again. So, he still didn’t believe she’d never been unfaithful, never even thought about it?r />
  Some things never changed. No point protesting she didn’t know this Marlowe.

  And her explanation of Marlowe’s words couldn’t possibly be right. Though Cantorini’s death had been kept quiet, the murders that preceded it hadn’t. The TV, newspapers, and internet had been full of speculation about the Daisy Killer suspect being an Austin man. Anyone who paid even the slightest attention to current affairs surely knew about the case.

  Not a good way to start wooing a woman by reminding her of a serial killer. Especially a serial killer who a number of people here knew had tried to kill her.

  So maybe, reminding her of that was exactly his intent.

  “Could it be subtle blackmail? Using threats toward me as a way to persuade you to give up your invention?”

  Colt pushed aside his plate, much of the food uneaten. “I don’t know. But I want you to be on the lookout.”

  “Always.” Life looking over her shoulder wasn’t exactly what she wanted. But if that was the price of being near the children and Colt—though not with him—and keeping them safe, then she’d pay it.

  Something unreadable flashed in his eyes. “Why didn’t you come to me when you needed help?”

  No good answer to his question. Only a certainty that things could’ve been so different if she hadn’t kept secrets from him. And if he’d trusted her.

  Putting down her fork, she rubbed her forehead, then hoped she hadn’t just rubbed off half her carefully applied concealer. She hadn’t allowed Colt to see her scars, and she had no intention of ever doing so. Let him remember her as the beautiful woman she’d been.

  “Partly, a desire to be independent, to prove myself.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug. “Partly, a fear that you wouldn’t let me work on the case.”

  Unwelcome recollections assailed her. Her first husband, Michael, had attempted to control her every move. Berated her for her infertility, for needing to use a surrogate to bear his children. For working when he wanted her to stay at home to cook his dinners and iron his shirts. And for choosing to work in a field with plenty of men. Plenty of opportunities to cheat.