Under His Protection (5 page)

She went to the dresser and checked the
caller ID. Snapping the phone up, she answered it with a breathless
hello.

His harsh breath sounded in her ear and she
swallowed hard. He sounded angry, agitated.

He also sounded—dare she think
it—aroused.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The sound
of his growling baritone made her instantly wet and she squeezed
her legs together to ease the ache.

“So you
are
watching.” She couldn’t
help but smile.

“Blake.” His voice was a warning but she had
no interest in listening.

“Did you like it, Mason? Do you like what
I’m wearing?”

“Shut the blinds, draw the curtains,
whatever you have on your window, just cover it.”

“But then you won’t be able to see me.”

“That’s the point.”

“It’s your job to see me. To watch over me,
right?”

He sighed, the sound blowing directly into
her ear and she shivered. He sounded so forlorn, she almost felt
sorry for him.

Almost.

“You need to stop.” The weariness in the
demand softened it considerably.

“Stop what?” She turned to stare out the
window, wishing she could see him. Was he still watching? Could he
see her sliding her hand over her breast, down her stomach?

The harsh intake of his breath sounding in
her ear told her yes, he could.

“Do you want to watch me touch myself?” she
whispered, her heart in her throat. She couldn’t believe she said
it. If he turned her down, she’d cry.

Oh, she felt wicked. What had gotten into
her? She never behaved like this, was never tempted to put herself
on such blatant display for a man.

“Jesus, Blake.” His agonized groan sent a
thrill spiraling through her body.

“You want me, don’t you?” She slid her free
hand up and down the side of her hip, the silk of her gown soft and
sleek against her palm.

She wished it was Mason’s big hands touching
her. Tugging the nightgown off with that focused intensity that
aroused her so much, his fingers searching her skin, cupping her
breasts, sliding between her legs.

The fresh surge of moisture flooding her sex
was unmistakable.

“This isn’t right.”

“Too late for right or wrong, Mason. It’s
already happening.” She paused and peered out the window. “Where
are you? I can’t see you.”

“In bed.”

Those two words sent a thrill chasing down
her spine. She propped a hand against the window frame, studying
the single lit window directly across from her. What did he wear
when he went to bed? Actual pajamas?

Nah. Underwear and a T-shirt? Hmm, no
T-shirt, she’d guess. Maybe he wore nothing at all.

That particular image made her mouth go
dry.

“You should be asleep,” he continued.
“Tucked in and with the lights off. Go to bed, Blake.”

“I really like it when you say my name,” she
confessed. She did. He didn’t say it often enough.

“Get some sleep.” He paused, she heard his
sharp inhale, as if he searched for some sort of control. Oh, that
shouldn’t excite her, but it did. “I’m sure you’re exhausted.”

“Actually I’m not tired at all.” Licking her
lips, she lowered her voice seductively. “Do you want to watch me?
You can look but not touch. I don’t mind.”

Fine, she did mind. She’d prefer if he
touched her. Run those big, capable hands all over body, but she’d
settle for this. For now.

“I don’t think...”

“That’s your problem,” she interrupted.
“You’re too busy thinking.” And for once in her life, she wasn’t
thinking at all. Maybe a mistake, but she didn’t care. “Let your
mind go, Mason, and watch.”

He didn’t say a word and she slid her free
hand back up, over her stomach, her ribs, cupping her left breast.
The bit of lace at the bodice rasped against her sensitive skin and
she shivered.

She shrugged the shoulder strap off and
slipped her hand beneath the sagging fabric of the nightgown,
brushing her fingers against her distended nipple. Gooseflesh
dotted her skin and her knees wobbled at the thought of him
watching her.

God, what would it be like to have Mason
actually touch her?

“I’m imagining it’s your hands on me,” she
confessed, lightly pinching her nipple. The little gasp of pleasure
that escaped her was unmistakable.

“Blake, my God, you need to stop.” He
sounded like a dying man. But that was all right, since she was
dying too.

“I don’t want to stop.”

“You have to. This is getting way out of
control.” He hung up on her, the unmistakable click sounding loud
and clear. Too loud and clear.

She threw the phone down onto her bed,
watching as it bounced. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes and
she shook her head, refusing to let them fall.

Damn it, she wanted to be sexy and
seductive. Instead, she’d just made a complete fool of herself.
What must he think of her? That she was foolish and wasting her
time? Wasting his time too?

He could’ve hung up from the get go if he
really hadn’t wanted to see her, talk to her. At least that’s what
she told herself.

Minor comfort in what was going to be a long
night.

Mason reached over and turned off the lamp.
Lying flat on his back, he stared up at the ceiling, his mind
racing, his cock aching.

Watching Blake touch herself had nearly been
his undoing. Not as if he’d really seen anything, though Christ,
how he wished.

Closing his eyes, he scrubbed a hand over
his face. Let his palm rest against his mouth. He hadn’t been
tempted like this…ever.

These last few years he’d lived and breathed
the Secret Service, had come up the ranks in a relatively quick
time. And like a damn fool, he was tempted to do the wrong thing.
As if he had no control whatsoever.

It took everything within him not to stalk
over to Blake’s cabin and pull her into his arms. Kiss her until
they were both breathless. Strip her of that silky, sexy nightgown
and lick every inch of her gorgeous body.

Shit.
He let his hand drop and rest
over his erect cock. A hand job would bring him no real
satisfaction, though he planned on it anyway. He had to. His cock
was so stiff, he needed some sort of relief, no matter how
temporary it might be.

What she offered, he couldn’t take. No
matter how much he wanted to. This was his job.
She
was his
job. Allowing Blake to distract him was getting him nowhere. His
behavior put her at risk. He had a duty to fulfill above all
else.

Protecting the vice president’s
daughter.

Chapter Four

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Blake slung her purse over her shoulder and
counted to three before she turned and faced Mason. She schooled
her expression, completely neutral as she watched him approach.
“I’m walking into town.”

A single dark brow lifted. “And you weren’t
going to tell me?”

She shrugged. How she wished she could blink
three times and make last night’s mortifying events disappear. The
aborted strip tease had been a catastrophe from start to finish.
The only positive part being that she knew, even for a fleeting
moment, she’d affected him.

Not enough to push him into action
though.

“It’s not that far to town. And it’s a
gorgeous morning.”

It was. And for once, she just wanted to be
normal. Do something simple. Like take a walk and bask in the sun.
It shone warm and bright, though the air was brisk, accompanied by
a slight breeze. A perfect mid-October morning and her protector,
as usual, was trying to put a damper on it.

Not that she could blame him. Her pretending
everything was all right and nothing bad happened last evening was
just another coping mechanism. Blake didn’t need a psychologist.
She self-analyzed on a daily basis.

If she thought about it too hard, she was a
complete and utter mess.

Was it really so wrong, these feeling she
had for him? Maybe it was. She made him out as some sort of hero
but really, he was just a man. With faults and bad habits, needs
and wants, just like anyone else.

She needed that daily reminder almost as
much as she needed a cup of coffee to wake up.

“You really need to tell me when you’re
going somewhere.” His mouth was grim, his eyes dark. She’d
irritated him—what else was new?—and he wasn’t afraid to let her
know it. “That’s why I’m here, you know.

“I’m sorry.” She tried her best to sound
contrite, tried even harder not to stare at him but he made it so
damn hard.

Like looking absolutely delicious in a pair
of worn jeans that clung to his muscular thighs, a flannel shirt
hanging loose and open over his white T-shirt and a pair of very
expensive-looking hiking boots on his feet. He was the ultimate
gorgeous and very slick mountain man.

“I’m coming with you.” It wasn’t a question.
And she knew she would get nowhere arguing with him. Besides, she
really didn’t want to.

Why she thought it was a good idea to try
and sneak out for a cup of coffee in the early morning hours, she
didn’t know. Having Mason at her side made her feel safer
anyway.

They started down the driveway, the gravel
crunching beneath their feet. Blake shoved her hands into the
pockets of her thick black cardigan, kept her head bent. She didn’t
know what to say. Last night’s events hung heavy between them.
Should she mention it? Apologize for her stupid behavior?

In the harsh light of day, it didn’t feel
right bringing it up.

So she kept quiet, utilizing one of his
tricks and letting the silence stretch. It didn’t seem to bother
him whatsoever. He’d slipped his sunglasses on, the epitome of
casual cool.

As they turned onto the road toward town,
she noticed the slight tilt of his head, how he scanned their
surroundings beneath the shield of his glasses. He was checking
everything, constantly on the lookout for her safety and she liked
that. It gave her a perverse little sexual thrill.

This man was her protector. He would give
his life in order to save hers without a second thought. He would
just do it and damn the consequences.

It was a most sobering realization.

“Anything planned today?” he suddenly
asked.

She glanced at him but he stared straight
ahead. So she did too. “Not really.”

Mason said nothing, as usual.

“I want to go to the coffee shop just up the
road. They serve homemade pastries that are to die for.”

He gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.

“If you’re lucky, I might buy you one.” She
didn’t get to observe Mason eating too often but she’d like to see
a sticky pastry covered in powdered sugar pass his lips just once.
She bet he’d like it too.

“Thanks. I already ate.”

Of course, he had.

“Trust me, these can’t be missed. They’re
so
good.” She wasn’t going to let him leave that little
coffee shop without at least having a taste.

Mason didn’t argue. He just kept pace with
her as they approached Whitney Harbor. Her family’s property sat on
the most western edge of the small town, and it was an easy walk
into the quaint downtown district, a half mile at most. She liked
being so close to the cute shops and tiny restaurants, yet she also
felt isolated enough since her neighbors were so spread out.

She plain loved it here. If she had her way,
she’d never leave. No one expected anything from her on Whitney
Island. Heck, they barely paid her any attention.

It was perfect.

“Do they know who you are?” His question
came out of nowhere and she wondered yet again if he could read her
mind.

“Who, the locals? I guess so, but they don’t
really care. They never acknowledge me outside of a friendly
hello.”

He nodded, looked pleased with her answer.
“I’ll wait for you outside the coffee shop.”

Blake halted in her tracks while he kept
walking until he realized she wasn’t beside him. Stopping, he
turned and faced her, a frown marring his sensual mouth. “What’s
wrong?”

“Why won’t you come inside with me?”

“I’ll stand out here. You don’t want to be
seen with me.”

She rested her hands on her hips. “Why would
you say that?”

He shrugged and even with his eyes covered
by the damn sunglasses, she could tell he was uncomfortable. What
exactly was he getting at?

“You wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong
idea,” Mason finally said.

“The wrong idea?” she asked shrilly. God,
she sounded like a nag.

“Don’t give out any information that can put
you or your family in danger. Don’t tell anyone I’m Secret Service.
Besides, if we’re seen together, people are going to think
we’re...”

“Together,” she finished for him, her entire
body suddenly growing warm. That wouldn’t be a bad thing, at least
in her book.

“And we’re not.” His voice was firm in that
macho, don’t-argue-with-me way he had.

Icy coldness wiped the warmth away, just
like that. “So you won’t come in with me.”

“I’ll stand outside,” he said again.

“Fine. You probably shouldn’t even walk next
to me, then.” She picked up her stride, her legs taking her farther
and farther away from Mason with her every step. Yet again, she
felt the telltale prick of tears at the corner of her eyes and she
murmured a curse in frustration.

Stupid, stubborn man. Goading her like he
did, like he was so damn good at.

Blake practically ran to the row of shops
that loomed ahead of her, sprinting up the short steps to the
coffee shop. She threw open the door with a loud bang, the bells
attached to the top of the door jangled like Santa Claus announcing
his arrival. Everyone within the cafe stopped to stare.

Swallowing hard, she offered a little wave.
Not quite the way she wanted to announce her return to town.

Able to walk right up to the counter since
there was no line, Blake quickly placed her order. She allowed
herself to indulge in a flaky, frosting-covered morning roll and a
skinny latte. Though secretly, she wanted to order the latte
full-tilt with whipped cream on top.