The Billionaire’s Handler

“Yes, sir. Although you can outwork anyone I ever met.”

“Which is the point. I’m extremely busy. And it’s not as if I were asking you to do anything. I just need to know that Carolina’s all right.”

Henry stood up from the couch, dusted two crumbs from his trousers, took the sandwich plate to the kitchen and neatly slid it in the dishwasher. “I understand your concern, Mr. Cochran. That Carolina, she just isn’t of the me-me-me generation. I don’t doubt she can look after herself. I just think she could easily fall into her old ways.”

Maguire picked up that beat as if it had been on his mind. “Giving in to everybody. Riding herself ragged for everyone else. The calls will have restarted by now. Her family and friends and all will realize she’s back home. It’ll start up again. I think she’s stronger. I think she has good ideas on what to do. Stuff she can do. But I need to be sure.”

“Then call her yourself, sir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Henry didn’t seem to hear. He aimed for the stairs, as if intending to crash for the night. “I keep remembering how she was when you first brought her here. Not hearing. Jumping at every shadow. I just think it’d be easy for her to get over her head again. I’m not all that positive you can teach a kitten to be tough.”

“Which is precisely why I want you to follow up and make sure she’s all right.”

“Well, I would, Mr. Cochran, because I’m not looking to get fired. I love my job. I can’t even imagine a job as good as this one. But she’s not my business, sir. She’s yours. If you don’t mind my saying, I almost didn’t recognize you when I walked in here. You obviously haven’t slept or showered or apparently eaten since I left. You look like hell, sir, and that’s putting it as politely as I can. I fully recognize that you’ve never appreciated advice-”

“Then it would probably be extremely wise for you to shut the h up, Henry.”

“But in my opinion, you don’t just need to call her. You need to find her. I have no idea what was wrong with the men in South Bend in the past, but they can’t all be shallow and blind. Someone is going to take a look and have the sense to realize that she’s absolutely one of a kind.”

Maguire’s eyes narrowed. “You think I don’t know that? But she’s not a keeper for me, Henry. I kidnapped her, remember? She didn’t ask me to be in her life.”

“So if she needs help now, you wouldn’t be there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’d be there in two seconds.”

“Then call her yourself. To find out if she’s all right or not.” Henry’s voice rose a full decibel before he shut down and turned around, stiff-necked and red-cheeked. “I’m going to bed, sir.”

Maguire didn’t answer, just stared after Henry. He’d never heard Henry yell before. Henry didn’t even raise his voice for football games or tornados.

He could have fired him, of course, but Maguire couldn’t imagine doing that for a single indiscretion. It wasn’t as if Henry regularly-or ever-stepped out of line, or had given Maguire any reason to doubt his dedication.

Henry was loyal. Apparently he’d picked up some mighty loyalty to Carolina as well.

Henry just didn’t understand, Maguire thought glumly. Once he’d kidnapped Carolina, everything changed. He’d had good reasons to steal her off, but the “force” word was the bear. She’d been forced to be with him.

Now…it would have been easy, so easy to call her, fly to see her, tell her he’d fallen crazy in love with her, that nothing had been right since she left. It was the truth.

But it was also the truth that he couldn’t, ethically or morally, force Carolina to be with him again on any terms. To manipulate another situation would be the act of a control freak, not a lover. A bully, not a man hopelessly in love.

How could he ever know how she really felt if she’d never been free to make her own choices?

So he’d tied his own hands.

And it was killing him.

Chapter Eleven

Carolina parked in front of the old, redbrick house with a feeling of doom and gloom. Naturally, the wind was blowing up a tempest, shaking all the red-and-gold leaves, slapping her cheeks, sneaking down the neck of her old plaid jacket. She loved her parents, she reminded herself.

She was just looking forward to this particular visit on a par with, say, a double root canal.

She pulled a satchel, packages and bottle of wine from the backseat, then had to juggle them as she walked up the familiar brick path to the back door. “Mom! Dad!” she called out.

She’d spent a couple days feeling sorry for herself… and trying to face that she’d never likely see Maguire again. The woman he’d kidnapped wasn’t the kind of woman who belonged in his life. Things might have been different if they could have met like normal people. But they hadn’t.

It just didn’t pay to be kidnapped.

Rather than pine and whine any longer, she figured she’d better face her demons.

Her mom showed up in the doorway first, her dad stepping on her heels. Her mother was wearing a tiger print, had new highlights in her chin-length bob, wore snazzy red-framed glasses-and hurled herself at Carolina with a sob, a hug and a fog of Chanel No 19.

“Honey, I’ve missed you so much! I don’t understand why you went off like that! Why you’d ever shut us out! I was so worried and upset! I just don’t understand!”

Then her dad took over, enveloped her in a giant hug with tears in his eyes. “I’m so glad you’re home again, princess. Your mom was terribly upset. Not me. I know you’re a big girl, and can take of yourself. We’re just used to being able to talk to you whenever we want to.”

“I know. And I’m so sorry, both of you.” Actually, Carolina knew they’d been told where she was, and how to contact her in case of an emergency. Her parents just couldn’t conceive of any occasion where they couldn’t immediately reach her. She wasn’t about to get into Maguire and the kidnapping, but they needed some explanations.

And she needed to face them as well.

Wine got poured. The wailing went on for a while. Apple pie slowed it down. So did the presents she’d brought for both of them. Eventually they all sat in the rust-and-brown den-no one ever sat in her mother’s living room; life revolved around the TV. Family pictures dominated the walls, her mom’s angel collection dominated the bookshelves and her father’s latest model took up half the coffee table. All of it was as familiar as her childhood, evoked equal amounts of love and stress.

As did the conversation.

Her father hunched forward at a gesture from her mom, making Carolina guess that they’d choreographed this talk ahead of time. “Honey, your mother and I have been thinking. We think it’s a good idea for us to move in with you. Or, if you’d rather, that you move in with us.”

“Dad, that’s not necessary,” she said quickly.

“We think it is. We understand that you’re grown up, that the last thing a young single woman would normally want is parents looking over her shoulder. But this whole inheritance business has been too much for you.”

“We can protect you,” her mother chimed in. “Take care of things. Your dad could handle the finances, and I could take charge of your place, redecorating or whatever you need. We’ll take the stress off…”

Before this got any hairier, Carolina stood up, opened the satchel she’d brought in. “You two are both right. I wasn’t handling stress well. But actually, one thing I needed to figure out had nothing to do with me. It was about you two. And, Dad, I need to ask you a favor.”

“Anything, princess.”

Carolina pulled out the sheaf of papers. “This is the paperwork for a trust that I created for you and Mom. It’s set up to give you two a monthly discretionary allowance, but there’s a lot of give-and-take in the setup. You might want something bigger now and then-like a car or a trip or something? Then you’d have to figure out how to work that out with taxes and social security and all.”

Before her parents could say anything, Carolina said quickly, “It’s just all too much for me. I needed some