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At lastA wedding novella
Devlin Security Force, Book 3.5 When at last she’s ready to trust him with her heart … she learns he’s only there to protect her body. Available only in digital Amazon |
SPOILER ALERT - At Last winds up the Devlin series with a wedding, but also includes updates on other characters in the series.
Maid of honor Andie Devlin owes her life to her brother Thomas and his bride Cleo, and the least she can do is make sure their wedding is perfect. A former wild child, Andie now keeps men at a distance. But Devlin Security Force’s sexiest operative Mike Pagano seems set on spending the wedding weekend at her side. Andie longs to give in to the attraction that’s been sizzling between them for months, but fears that this straight-arrow former Marine will judge her for her past. Just when she’s ready to take a chance on him, she learns the real reason he’s stuck to her like glue—her brother charged him with protecting her.
Mike Pagano loves his DSF job—except when it forces him to lie to Andie. Yes, he wants to keep her safe from the art theft ring suspected of planning an attack during the wedding. More than that, he admires her for rising above her past, and he wants her in his arms and his bed. Then Andie confronts him with what she’s overheard. Too late, he realizes he should have trusted her with the truth. Now he must protect her only from a distance, unaware a gang member has infiltrated the wedding.
Mike and DSF must act fast to find the threat … but they may have a secret weapon of their own—Andie.
Maid of honor Andie Devlin owes her life to her brother Thomas and his bride Cleo, and the least she can do is make sure their wedding is perfect. A former wild child, Andie now keeps men at a distance. But Devlin Security Force’s sexiest operative Mike Pagano seems set on spending the wedding weekend at her side. Andie longs to give in to the attraction that’s been sizzling between them for months, but fears that this straight-arrow former Marine will judge her for her past. Just when she’s ready to take a chance on him, she learns the real reason he’s stuck to her like glue—her brother charged him with protecting her.
Mike Pagano loves his DSF job—except when it forces him to lie to Andie. Yes, he wants to keep her safe from the art theft ring suspected of planning an attack during the wedding. More than that, he admires her for rising above her past, and he wants her in his arms and his bed. Then Andie confronts him with what she’s overheard. Too late, he realizes he should have trusted her with the truth. Now he must protect her only from a distance, unaware a gang member has infiltrated the wedding.
Mike and DSF must act fast to find the threat … but they may have a secret weapon of their own—Andie.
Excerpt from Chapter One
Andie Devlin slipped off her high-heeled sandals and wriggled her toes in the grass. “If the wedding takes as long as this rehearsal — which was endless — I’ll need to wear lower heels.” She flung out her arms, embracing the enormous wedding tent sprawled beside the Severn River.
Cleo Chandler continued walking up the manicured lawn toward the hundred-year-old Riverside Inn where the rehearsal dinner would take place. “My head reels. Mom and Felicity cannot leave things alone, even the schedule the wedding planner guided us through. That must’ve been the ninetieth time they wrangled details.”
Andie frowned at her friend’s bunched shoulder muscles, revealed by her strappy cocktail dress. Cleo had been wound for the past few weeks. More photos on the wedding website. Finishing the wedding favors, which she was painting. Final wording on the program. The biggest problem was keeping it “real.” Sister-in-law Felicity and Cleo’s mom tended toward the princess-fantasy wedding. So not Cleo. As Super Maid of Honor, Andie had stepped up to mediate — also an opportunity to apply her social-work training — but all the hoopla was getting to her too. Neither one needed the added confusion and chaos, not after what they’d been through eight months ago.
Cleo stopped and glanced back at the white tent where Andie’s brother stood in deep conversation with his best man, Lucas Del Rio, and the navy chaplain, best bud of Cleo’s admiral dad at the U.S. Naval Academy. Love glowed in her gaze and softened the curve of her mouth.
An ache tightened Andie’s chest. Someday she wanted to have that kind of love, and the same trust and companionship they shared. As if a happily-ever-after was possible for her. No pity party, like the doc says, Andrea.
She squinted toward the knot of men, but no way she could read their lips from this far. After the push-pull between the Chandler women, maybe Thomas was smoothing ruffled epaulets. But his stony expression didn’t fit that scenario. What was up? Giving orders then, knowing him. She snorted. Even if a forever relationship were possible for her, it wouldn’t be with a bossy man like her brother.
She slipped her sandals back on and caught up to Cleo, who had walked ahead, and linked arms with her.
“Whatever they come up with, don’t let them change anything now,” her friend went on. “Nothing — I repeat, nothing must go wrong on my wedding day.”
“Hah, nothing will go wrong. I won’t allow it. This is going to be a perfect wedding, and you’ll be the most perfect bride.” A perfect wedding, the least she could do for Thomas and Cleo.
“I don’t know about perfect, but this suits me a whole lot better than the full-dress military wedding at Annapolis that Dad envisioned.”
Andie recalled the time Cleo’s father dragged her to a navy recruitment lecture. “We’d both break out in hives.”
A vehement shake of the head swept her friend’s auburn hair across her shoulders. “I’d have persuaded Thomas to elope.”
“And cheat me out of supporting my BFF when she marries my big brother?”
Cleo’s laugh eased Andie’s tension. As they made their way toward the quiet inn’s wide veranda that led to the ballroom, they chatted about whether the toasts after the meal would be just that, or roasts. Andie played coy about what she planned.
Cleo stopped their progress and placed both hands on Andie’s shoulders. “Will you be all right? I mean, with all the alcohol swirling around this dinner and almost everything tomorrow?”
“If you’d asked me that question two years ago, I’d say I couldn’t handle it. But now, piece of cake. No, make that wedding cake. You’re the one under pressure this weekend, not me. As long as the servers have plenty of sweet tea, I’ll be golden.” She counted on the person who’d known her almost as long as Thomas to see the conviction in her eyes.
Cleo held her gaze a long minute, then nodded. “Anyone hassles you about what you’re drinking, remember I have your back. But it turns out sweet tea is a specialty of the inn, both with and without alcohol.” She fist-tapped the butterfly tattoo banding Andie’s wrist.
Andie tapped the identical design on Cleo’s upper arm, and the two hugged.
“Come on up, you lazies. Mom can’t find all the place cards.” Cleo’s look-alike cousin, also a bridesmaid, waved from the veranda. Mimi Ingram lived in Toronto, and the two had met in person those eight months ago, only hours before the smugglers’ pursuit that nearly killed them all.
Cleo returned the wave. Then she nudged Andie. “On the veranda, isn’t that —?”
Andie followed her gaze. Her heart thumped. “Mike Pagano.”
No mistaking that taut body and the black hair in a sexy Marine buzz. In his usual jeans and black tee, he floated her boat, but damn, in tailored pants and a sport coat — both black — he rocked her in waves of heat. He pushed away from the pillar where he’d been lounging.
What the hell was Devlin Security Force’s sexiest operative doing here?
“You didn’t mention he was your date for the weekend.” Cleo huffed. “Heck, it’s about time. You’ve been dancing around each other ever since Vegas. I thought you two would never get together.”
Andie shook away the fog in her head. “We didn’t. I mean, he’s not my date.”
“He looks yummy. The guy has a thing for you, hon. Give yourself a chance.”
Andie barely registered Cleo’s departure. She could only stare as Mike descended the three steps and approached.
When he reached her, she lifted her chin and waited. Let him speak first.
Gray eyes framed by dark lashes and thick brows eyed her up and down. Beneath the linen jacket, a silk tee that matched his eyes molded his pecs so perfectly she had to tighten her hands into fists. Damn the man for being so hot.
“Hi, Andie. Bet you’re surprised to see me.” His voice, smooth and mellow, a little smoky, rippled through her. One side of his mouth ticked up in that small grin that curled her toes.
Her newly manicured nails bit into her palms. The prick of pain freed her power of speech, and she hiked a hand on one hip. “I didn’t see your name on the guest list. Looks like you’re crashing my brother’s rehearsal dinner. And the wedding?” She congratulated herself on her light tone.
“Not crashing anything. I’m working. I’m supposed to hang around all weekend like I’m a guest, me and a few other DSF people. Keep an eye out for trouble.”
She gaped. “DSF guarding a wedding? What kind of trouble? A wedding-gift thief?”
“A possibility. The inn has nearly two hundred rooms and suites. Too many guests the office had no time to check. Their rent-a-cop will keep an eye out, but he’s just one man. Mr. Devlin wanted professionals because of all the brass, the families. You and Cleo. You know how your brother is. Mr. Security.” One shoulder lifted in a dismissive shrug.
She studied his expression and saw no hint of dissembling. But even for Thomas, positioning his operatives here seemed over the top. “Maybe.”
As she started to sidestep him and walk on, his arm shot out. His grip on her wrist was gentle, but unyielding, his hand rough on her skin, and so warm and tempting she had to bite back a sigh.
“Andie, while I’m here, maybe we can talk. Maybe I can buy y’all a sweet tea later.”
She clapped her free hand over one ear. “Ow, ow, ow, Boston. Never again mangle my South Carolina y’all.”
But jeez, he remembered what she drank.
“Knew I’d get you to say it. Turns me on every time.” He grinned, and his wink jazzed her pulse. “Come on, live on the edge a little. Sharing a drink can’t do any harm.”
Except his attitude suggested more than tea. Too macho, too take charge, too much her brother’s operative. All reasons to keep her distance.
“The edge? I lived on the edge for way too long.” Even fell over the cliff. But she’d revealed enough. “Here’s the thing, Mike. On the off chance a thief does try to cart off the gifts, you’ll need to be on guard, and I need to make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch.”
“Hey, we might find a moment or two.”
She stiffened. “Unlikely you’ve forgotten Vegas, but a reminder can’t hurt. Cleo risked her life for me, and so did my brother. You’re here to protect everyone and the gifts. So, y’all, please see that there’s no trouble.”
She stared at the masculine hand banding her tattoo.
“Count on me.”
His fingers slipped away, and dammit, she wanted to cover the spot to seal in his heat. He stepped aside, and she sensed his gaze on her back as she hurried to the veranda.
Andie Devlin slipped off her high-heeled sandals and wriggled her toes in the grass. “If the wedding takes as long as this rehearsal — which was endless — I’ll need to wear lower heels.” She flung out her arms, embracing the enormous wedding tent sprawled beside the Severn River.
Cleo Chandler continued walking up the manicured lawn toward the hundred-year-old Riverside Inn where the rehearsal dinner would take place. “My head reels. Mom and Felicity cannot leave things alone, even the schedule the wedding planner guided us through. That must’ve been the ninetieth time they wrangled details.”
Andie frowned at her friend’s bunched shoulder muscles, revealed by her strappy cocktail dress. Cleo had been wound for the past few weeks. More photos on the wedding website. Finishing the wedding favors, which she was painting. Final wording on the program. The biggest problem was keeping it “real.” Sister-in-law Felicity and Cleo’s mom tended toward the princess-fantasy wedding. So not Cleo. As Super Maid of Honor, Andie had stepped up to mediate — also an opportunity to apply her social-work training — but all the hoopla was getting to her too. Neither one needed the added confusion and chaos, not after what they’d been through eight months ago.
Cleo stopped and glanced back at the white tent where Andie’s brother stood in deep conversation with his best man, Lucas Del Rio, and the navy chaplain, best bud of Cleo’s admiral dad at the U.S. Naval Academy. Love glowed in her gaze and softened the curve of her mouth.
An ache tightened Andie’s chest. Someday she wanted to have that kind of love, and the same trust and companionship they shared. As if a happily-ever-after was possible for her. No pity party, like the doc says, Andrea.
She squinted toward the knot of men, but no way she could read their lips from this far. After the push-pull between the Chandler women, maybe Thomas was smoothing ruffled epaulets. But his stony expression didn’t fit that scenario. What was up? Giving orders then, knowing him. She snorted. Even if a forever relationship were possible for her, it wouldn’t be with a bossy man like her brother.
She slipped her sandals back on and caught up to Cleo, who had walked ahead, and linked arms with her.
“Whatever they come up with, don’t let them change anything now,” her friend went on. “Nothing — I repeat, nothing must go wrong on my wedding day.”
“Hah, nothing will go wrong. I won’t allow it. This is going to be a perfect wedding, and you’ll be the most perfect bride.” A perfect wedding, the least she could do for Thomas and Cleo.
“I don’t know about perfect, but this suits me a whole lot better than the full-dress military wedding at Annapolis that Dad envisioned.”
Andie recalled the time Cleo’s father dragged her to a navy recruitment lecture. “We’d both break out in hives.”
A vehement shake of the head swept her friend’s auburn hair across her shoulders. “I’d have persuaded Thomas to elope.”
“And cheat me out of supporting my BFF when she marries my big brother?”
Cleo’s laugh eased Andie’s tension. As they made their way toward the quiet inn’s wide veranda that led to the ballroom, they chatted about whether the toasts after the meal would be just that, or roasts. Andie played coy about what she planned.
Cleo stopped their progress and placed both hands on Andie’s shoulders. “Will you be all right? I mean, with all the alcohol swirling around this dinner and almost everything tomorrow?”
“If you’d asked me that question two years ago, I’d say I couldn’t handle it. But now, piece of cake. No, make that wedding cake. You’re the one under pressure this weekend, not me. As long as the servers have plenty of sweet tea, I’ll be golden.” She counted on the person who’d known her almost as long as Thomas to see the conviction in her eyes.
Cleo held her gaze a long minute, then nodded. “Anyone hassles you about what you’re drinking, remember I have your back. But it turns out sweet tea is a specialty of the inn, both with and without alcohol.” She fist-tapped the butterfly tattoo banding Andie’s wrist.
Andie tapped the identical design on Cleo’s upper arm, and the two hugged.
“Come on up, you lazies. Mom can’t find all the place cards.” Cleo’s look-alike cousin, also a bridesmaid, waved from the veranda. Mimi Ingram lived in Toronto, and the two had met in person those eight months ago, only hours before the smugglers’ pursuit that nearly killed them all.
Cleo returned the wave. Then she nudged Andie. “On the veranda, isn’t that —?”
Andie followed her gaze. Her heart thumped. “Mike Pagano.”
No mistaking that taut body and the black hair in a sexy Marine buzz. In his usual jeans and black tee, he floated her boat, but damn, in tailored pants and a sport coat — both black — he rocked her in waves of heat. He pushed away from the pillar where he’d been lounging.
What the hell was Devlin Security Force’s sexiest operative doing here?
“You didn’t mention he was your date for the weekend.” Cleo huffed. “Heck, it’s about time. You’ve been dancing around each other ever since Vegas. I thought you two would never get together.”
Andie shook away the fog in her head. “We didn’t. I mean, he’s not my date.”
“He looks yummy. The guy has a thing for you, hon. Give yourself a chance.”
Andie barely registered Cleo’s departure. She could only stare as Mike descended the three steps and approached.
When he reached her, she lifted her chin and waited. Let him speak first.
Gray eyes framed by dark lashes and thick brows eyed her up and down. Beneath the linen jacket, a silk tee that matched his eyes molded his pecs so perfectly she had to tighten her hands into fists. Damn the man for being so hot.
“Hi, Andie. Bet you’re surprised to see me.” His voice, smooth and mellow, a little smoky, rippled through her. One side of his mouth ticked up in that small grin that curled her toes.
Her newly manicured nails bit into her palms. The prick of pain freed her power of speech, and she hiked a hand on one hip. “I didn’t see your name on the guest list. Looks like you’re crashing my brother’s rehearsal dinner. And the wedding?” She congratulated herself on her light tone.
“Not crashing anything. I’m working. I’m supposed to hang around all weekend like I’m a guest, me and a few other DSF people. Keep an eye out for trouble.”
She gaped. “DSF guarding a wedding? What kind of trouble? A wedding-gift thief?”
“A possibility. The inn has nearly two hundred rooms and suites. Too many guests the office had no time to check. Their rent-a-cop will keep an eye out, but he’s just one man. Mr. Devlin wanted professionals because of all the brass, the families. You and Cleo. You know how your brother is. Mr. Security.” One shoulder lifted in a dismissive shrug.
She studied his expression and saw no hint of dissembling. But even for Thomas, positioning his operatives here seemed over the top. “Maybe.”
As she started to sidestep him and walk on, his arm shot out. His grip on her wrist was gentle, but unyielding, his hand rough on her skin, and so warm and tempting she had to bite back a sigh.
“Andie, while I’m here, maybe we can talk. Maybe I can buy y’all a sweet tea later.”
She clapped her free hand over one ear. “Ow, ow, ow, Boston. Never again mangle my South Carolina y’all.”
But jeez, he remembered what she drank.
“Knew I’d get you to say it. Turns me on every time.” He grinned, and his wink jazzed her pulse. “Come on, live on the edge a little. Sharing a drink can’t do any harm.”
Except his attitude suggested more than tea. Too macho, too take charge, too much her brother’s operative. All reasons to keep her distance.
“The edge? I lived on the edge for way too long.” Even fell over the cliff. But she’d revealed enough. “Here’s the thing, Mike. On the off chance a thief does try to cart off the gifts, you’ll need to be on guard, and I need to make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch.”
“Hey, we might find a moment or two.”
She stiffened. “Unlikely you’ve forgotten Vegas, but a reminder can’t hurt. Cleo risked her life for me, and so did my brother. You’re here to protect everyone and the gifts. So, y’all, please see that there’s no trouble.”
She stared at the masculine hand banding her tattoo.
“Count on me.”
His fingers slipped away, and dammit, she wanted to cover the spot to seal in his heat. He stepped aside, and she sensed his gaze on her back as she hurried to the veranda.
