Under His Protection (2 page)

God, she was such a fool, always wanting
what she couldn’t have. Even the man she secretly wanted was the
epitome of calmness. Hair never out of place, his expression always
impassive, nothing ruffled Mason Russell’s feathers.

It drove her absolutely crazy.

Mason watched Blake Hewitt exit her father’s
private office, her gorgeous face appearing ready to crumple. But
in the blink of an eye, her mouth firmed, her eyes narrowed and he
knew.

His subject was angry. And most likely her
father was even angrier.

“He wants to see you,” she tossed over her
shoulder as she walked by, leaving behind a delicate cloud of soft,
feminine scent that always,
always
sent his nostrils
twitching.

It sent other parts of his body twitching as
well.

Not that she ever knew. It was his job to
look at her—and look after her too. The ever present sunglasses
helped conceal the hunger in his eyes, so she’d never catch him
staring at her like a dog salivating over a bone.

Like now, his gaze slid up her legs to the
shift of her ass beneath the dark fabric of her jeans. Jeans that
fit her sweet curves and those pretty long legs like a second skin,
showcasing everything she had.

Mason shook his head. Christ, he was staring
at her ass and he’d just been summoned to her father’s office. What
the hell was wrong with him?

Lust for Blake Hewitt was what was wrong
with him.

Sweat beading his brow, he blinked, pushed
the dirty thoughts aside. He took a deep breath and walked inside
James Hewitt’s office. Standing just inside the doorway, he waited
for the vice president to okay Mason’s entrance with a nod of his
gray head.

Hewitt finally gave it, his gaze never
meeting his, the phone tucked between his cheek and shoulder. Mason
strode inside, stopping in front of Hewitt’s impressive cherry wood
desk.

“We need to talk, Russell.” Hewitt hung up
the phone with a quiet click, his gaze lifting to meet Mason’s.
“Were you aware of what my daughter was doing when those photos
were being taken?”He waved at the magazine sitting on top of his
desk. “You did accompany her when she went to this—party,
correct?”

Hell yes, he’d been with her. It had been
one of the most torturous days of his life. Catching glimpses of
Blake having fun, smiling and laughing, it had filled him with
acute longing. For her.

The two of them together would never happen,
no matter how much he wanted it to.

The private gathering had been quiet.
Nothing out of control, nothing unusual, and she’d assured him
before they entered the residence, a close friend was the hostess.
Blake had reassured him nothing was out of the ordinary that
night.

She’d been wrong. And he’d been wrong not to
protect her better.

Seeing her strip by the pool had nearly sent
him reeling. The innocent yet sultry way she tugged off her
T-shirt, how she slipped her shorts off those long, long legs.
She’d pulled her long blonde hair into a sloppy ponytail, delicate
strands framing her face. Seeing her like that, sexily mussed,
casual and free, he’d imagined doing all sorts of wicked things to
her. With her.

Years of study, of rigid discipline all
going to hell because of a constant raging hard-on. He’d worked
hard to get where he was at, but that bikini had nearly been his
undoing.

It had taken tremendous restraint to keep in
firm control. All while she strutted around the pool in little
scraps of fabric that barely covered her ample assets. He’d wanted
to toss her over his shoulder and carry her out of there, find
somewhere more private.

Where he could salute her with his hard cock
and tear that patriotic bikini off, one little scrap of fabric at a
time. Kiss and lick her everywhere until he made her come, his name
falling from her lips…

“Yes, I was there, sir.” He hadn’t realized
the recent public reaction would be so vehement where Blake was
concerned. But he underestimated her power, as usual.

She was attractive, engaging though quiet, a
diligent worker while on the campaign trail. He had a feeling there
were many who underestimated her power. And the man who sat in
front of him was no exception.

“Why didn’t you put a stop to this debacle?
She’s practically sent the entire campaign into the toilet with
this, you know.”

Mason doubted that, but he kept his opinions
to himself. “She’s a big girl, sir. I can’t interfere with her life
when there’s no reason to.”

“I’m saying you have my permission to
interfere in Blake’s life. On her own, she clearly doesn’t know
what she’s doing. She needs your guidance, your help.” Hewitt held
Mason’s gaze. “These pictures have caused considerable damage to
the election. I need you to stay on top of her, keep her on the
straight and narrow. You’re all I have. I need your help
controlling her.”

“I thought you were aware of everything Ms.
Hewitt does, sir. I don’t interfere in her personal affairs.” And
damn it, half the time he’d give anything to interfere in her
personal affairs—as long as they involved just the two of them.
Together. Alone.

Hell. He needed to stop thinking of Blake
like this. Nothing could ever come of it.
Nothing.
Fooling
around with the vice president’s daughter would undoubtedly ruin
him, career-wise.

“I know your obligations aren’t to trail her
twenty-four-seven and keep constant watch, but I’m asking you
personally. I’d appreciate it if you alerted me whenever Blake is
getting into trouble from now on. What she’s done has plunged us
into a huge mess I’m not sure we’ll be able to pull out of.”

Mason swallowed, contained the frustration
that bubbled inside of him. For Hewitt to blame the campaign’s
decline on his daughter was ridiculous, to put it mildly.

She may have added a very thin layer of
icing but she wasn’t the entire collapsing cake.

“I’m taking her off the campaign committee
and sending her away. We’re talking within a few days, maybe
sooner—to the island house in California. She’ll be happier there
anyway.”

Mason blinked. His stance remained rigid and
he stifled the shock coursing through him. He’d been under the
assumption they were staying in Washington through the election.
Hewitt wanted to keep his family close for the almost daily public
appearances and traveling. Plus, Blake worked for him.

“I’m concerned about her behavior, not to
mention her safety. I’ve been notified of a few threats toward her
resulting specifically from her appearance in the magazine,” Hewitt
continued.

“I wasn’t aware of any threats, sir.” News
to him and strange he hadn’t heard. He should’ve been the first
person notified with such a serious matter. She was, after all, his
responsibility.

Hewitt waved a negligent hand. “Minor stuff,
not enough to get you riled up. Quite frankly, she annoys people,
Russell. And this needs to stop.”

Mason frowned. Hewitt had referred to his
daughter as a nuisance more than once. It irritated him, how dense
the man could be.

Couldn’t he see how badly Blake needed his
attention? His love?

“And because of everything she’s done, I
don’t think it’s safe to keep her around. I have no idea what she
has planned next,” Hewitt continued.

Disbelief surged through Mason. “Sir, do you
really think she has something
planned
?”

“I have no idea. I never know what she’s
going to do.”

Mason kept silent.

“I’m sending her away and you’ll accompany
her. She prefers it there on the island. She can relax, be herself
and not cause any problems. Her recklessness is dangerous to my
reputation.”

She wasn’t reckless. The woman was too
lonely. Something her neglectful parents didn’t realize and
probably never would.

He’d observed her more than once out with
her so-called friends. The people who surrounded her, they used her
because of who she was and what she had. Growing up a trust fund
baby, her mother’s family’s wealth and status were well known. And
being the daughter of a mayor, a senator, and ultimately the vice
president earned her a lot of attention from phonies and users.

Her loneliness was so palpable Mason
couldn’t understand why no one noticed. Why he was the only one
perceptive enough to see it.

The haunting look in her eyes made him
secretly ache for her.

“You must keep an extra close eye on my
daughter, Russell. The second you think something’s wrong, I want
you to contact me.” Hewitt stared at him hard, his expression
unreadable.

“Absolutely, sir,” Mason agreed with a
nod.

“I won’t tolerate her careless behavior any
longer.” With an angry flick of his fingers, Hewitt sent the
magazine flying and it landed with a loud plop on the floor. “Get
rid of this. I can’t stand to look at it.”

The tired expression on Hewitt’s face said
it all—he was done with him as well. Mason bent and snagged the
magazine from the ground, tucked it under his arm and exited the
office without another word.

The tabloid fairly burned a hole on the
inside of his arm but he refused to look at it. He’d done that this
morning, stared at Blake’s pretty, smiling face. Her irresistible,
hot body called for his touch. In his dreams, anyway.

He never thought photos of a woman in a
bikini could turn into beat off material at his age, but that was
before he saw these particular photos of Blake. The one woman who
occupied his secret dreams, his wicked fantasies—the woman he could
never have.

Now he had another copy to add to his beat
off collection. Mason practically growled in irritation.

Fucking perfect.

Chapter Two

Blake needed to talk. And considering Mason
was her only choice, he’d have to deal.

Not that he ever protested. From what she
could tell, Mason hated talking, was a man of few words, lots of
nods and the occasional non-committal grunt.

It made for the perfect relationship. She
preferred him to the previous agent who’d briefly been assigned to
her protection. Who’d quickly been reassigned for whatever reason,
she couldn’t remember.

Mason at least tolerated her. The other one
acted as if she were a giant pain in the ass.

It helped that she could stare at the
deliciously hunky Mason all day long. Those broad shoulders, his
firm backside accentuated to perfection in the outrageously
expensive suit trousers he wore. And then there was that hard yet
beautiful, purely masculine face. The line of his jaw, the slant of
his cheekbones—even the angle of his nose made her feel all quivery
inside.

A shiver moved through her. God, she was
pitiful.

“My father is so angry. It’s like he’s
accusing me of doing this on purpose.”

He didn’t say a word, didn’t even offer one
of his usual non-committal grunts. He simply remained quiet beside
her as they walked toward her car, his stride long and easy.

She didn’t understand how a man of such size
could move with such grace.

“I thought I could trust Shannon. Of course,
I didn’t know everyone at the party so maybe it really was my
fault.” She nibbled on her lower lip, remembering the phone
conversation with Shannon last night. Her friend denied any
involvement and Blake wanted to believe her. But she didn’t know if
she could anymore. She didn’t know who she could trust.

Well, she did know one person—Mason. It was
his job to protect her. He would never do her wrong.

Blake glanced around, feeling guilty for the
relief that surged through her when she couldn’t find her mother.
They were at the vice president’s private residential quarters and
she was ready to escape. With her ever-present, always sexy shadow
next to her.

Mason was still silent, staring straight
ahead, those dark sunglasses preventing her from really seeing him
or his reactions.

“I haven’t talked to my mother yet. I’m sure
she’s mad at me too.” At the very least she was disappointed,
resigned with her only child’s irresponsible behavior.

She could hear her mother saying those exact
words in her head.

“Why would she be mad at you?”

His question, spoken in that deliciously
deep voice of his, curled through her, making her warm, making her
wistful. She wondered what it was like, having that rumbling voice
whisper sexy-sweet words in her ear.

God help her, she wished she could find
out.

“I disappointed her,” she said with a
shrug.

Silence again.

“I always disappoint them.”

He stared at her, she could feel it, saw it
in the way his head tilted downward, his sensual mouth drawn tight.
She glanced at him and he looked away, feigning nonchalance, but
she saw it. Saw him.

“I do,” Blake insisted. She held her breath,
waited for him to say something, anything to keep the conversation
going.

He didn’t reply, just continued walking,
keeping pace. Holding the door open for her as a gentleman
would.

He was a gentleman, born and bred, raised in
Virginia before he’d enlisted in the Navy. Those minor facts she’d
had to practically rip out of him since he’d been assigned to keep
tabs on her. And that was pretty much all she knew.

Oh, she also knew he smelled delicious, like
a forest on a crisp, cold winter’s day. And he had strong hands and
arms she fantasized about on an almost daily basis.

God. She had turned into such a cliché, it
was almost painful.

The air was brisk, slapping her like an
invisible wall when they ventured outside and she drew in a deep
breath, tugged her sweater closer. Even though it was early fall,
the weather was surprisingly cold. Especially considering she’d
splashed around in a pool only a week ago.

“Should’ve worn a heavier coat,” Mason
muttered as they walked down the stairs and toward her car parked
in front of the house.