Don Kappelman was the kind of guy people tended to notice. A guy who stood six feet, three inches could hardly expect to hide in any crowd. Plus, he possessed the shoulders, chest, arms, and legs of a bodybuilder.

He was also the kind of guy people kept their distance from. No doubt it had something to do with his closely shaved head, a throwback from his Special Forces days, and the scar that ran across his left eyelid and ended halfway down his cheek.

But his come-no-closer image suited him just fine. As the right-hand man of a high-profile CEO, he wasn’t looking to make a large circle of friends. Luca Calcagni paid well, and the job offered plenty of opportunities to fly which allowed him to maintain his coveted pilot’s license. Additionally, it left him with the time to pick up private security gigs on weekends and holidays.

Like the one he was working tonight.

He scanned the crowded ballroom of the Gjoa Conference Center from his second-story balcony post. The hip-high railings were made of glass reinforced with tiny steel rods to maximize the breathtaking view of the center’s three-story hanging gardens and built-in water features.

It was the annual Christmas charity ball, and nearly all the wealthiest families in Anchorage were in attendance. As he watched the festive couples twirling their way across the dance floor, he didn’t envy the men wearing long-tailed tuxedo jackets, bow ties, and cummerbunds. Though he typically wore a black suit to events like this, his possessed much more useful accoutrements like a tie pin that contained a hidden camera and inner jacket pockets roomy enough to hold a pair of pistols.

The voice of his co-worker, Grant Whitlock, wafted in clipped tones through his invisible ear peace. “Check your two o’clock. Tall brunette. Red dress. Can’t get a good angle on the camera man behind her. Seems to be hovering a little too close.”

His new ear piece wasn’t as snug of a fit as he liked. He tapped it to seat it better inside his ear canal. “Got ‘em.” His blood boiled at what he saw. The chucklehead with the camera was using a second lens with an extension rod to peek under the woman’s dress. “Looks like we have ourselves a peeper.”

Grant made a snarling noise. “You want me to bounce him?”

“Nah. I’ll do it.” Don was already moving in the direction of the escalator. The cold weather was making his bum knee ache, keeping him in a funk all afternoon. Feeling ready to pummel someone, he took the rolling stairs two at a time.

People assumed he worked the extra hours at jobs like this for the extra cash, but that wasn’t the case. Thanks to a massive trust fund from his grandfather, he didn’t need the money. His desire to serve and protect others stemmed from an entirely different reason — a failure, actually. The failure to protect his high school girlfriend from a pair of drive-by shooters the night of homecoming.

He’d been protecting people ever since.

Trying to mask his limp, he drew nearer to the brunette in the red dress. She glanced up and looked directly at him. That’s when her identity hit him. She was Bailey Maddox, one of the two sisters of Jacey Maddox Calcagni, his boss’s new bride.

Her dark eyes softened with curiosity and interest which intrigued him. Most women would have backed away a few steps at his grim and determined approach. To her credit, she gave a hasty glance around her as if trying to determine who he was really eyeballing.

He reached the young beauty and stepped neatly around her. Pretending to lose his balance, he reached out and caught the camera man’s extension stick. At the same time, he brought his large shoe solidly down on the lens resting half under Bailey Maddox’s red skirts.

She whirled around and yanked the red silk away from the two men. “Excuse me. I, ah…oh!” she breathed in mortification as her gaze fell on the destroyed camera lens.

Don clamped his free hand down on the man’s arm. “If you’ll come this way, sir.” He none too gently pivoted him in the direction of the entrance doors where the North Cove Security team was tracking everyone who entered and exited the ballroom.

A bead of sweat broke out on the balding man’s brow. He attempted to brush Don’s hand from his arm. “Pardon me, sir, but I believe you broke my camera.” When he failed to loosen Don’s grip, he paled a few degrees. “I don’t know who you are, but I think there’s been a terrible misunderstanding here.”

Don pinned him with a look that made most people tremble. The man visibly shrank beneath his too-snug brown suit jacket. “I work for NCS, and I am happy to let you explain your misunderstanding to the authorities.”

He swung his head back in Bailey Maddox’s direction. “I’ll ensure all camera data is confiscated and all unauthorized images destroyed, ma’am.”

Her porcelain complexion turned chalky, making her red-lacquered lips stand out in stark contrast. “I, ah…thank you.” Her voice shook a little.

“Just doing my job, ma’am.”

Their gazes clashed and held, and he was struck by the sweetness and vulnerability he read there. Her expression wasn’t at all like the one her queenly older sister wore, nor did it contain the confidence and charisma of her musical diva younger sister.

If he had to sum up Bailey Maddox in two words, it would be quiet innocence. Everything the blustering cameraman was not with his non-stop tired of lame excuses.

Ignoring his pleas and threats, Don steered him to the NCS security checkpoint. By the time he and his co-workers turned the man and his equipment over to the authorities, Bailey Maddox had left the ballroom.

Don returned to his post on the second-floor balcony to give him a better vantage point. He rocked from the balls of his feet to his toes, stretching out the aching tendons in his left knee.

A voice crackled across his ear piece. It was Grant again. “You’re needed at the front desk.”

“Heading there now. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

Grant chuckled. “Not in a million years. I do, however, want to borrow those lucky socks you must be wearing tonight.”

Shaking his head, Don returned to the main floor and carefully maneuvered his way across the busy ballroom. To his surprise, Bailey Maddox was waiting for him. She was tapping one lovely blood-red sandal against the black and white floor tiles.

“Mr. Kappelman?” Her voice was gracious and musical like a princess greeting her subjects.

He nodded to acknowledge his name. “May I help you, ma’am?”

“I sure hope so,” she sighed. Worry flitted across her classically lovely features. “The last few days, I’ve been at my wits end, interviewing candidates as quickly as possible to assist me in my new position at DRAW Corporation, but none of them seemed like the right fit until now.”

He arched a brow at her, trying and failing to make sense of what she was saying.

“Until I met you.”

“What do you mean?” He spread his hands, preparing to explain he wasn’t in the market for a new job — certainly not one that would require him to serve in the capacity of an assistant to a rising business woman.

A delightful pink color spread across her well-defined cheekbones. “What I’m trying to say is I would like to hire you, Mr. Kappelman.” She dropped her voice to barely above a whisper and glanced around them in caution. “As my personal bodyguard.”