One she could never repeat again.
“Honey, everyone cares about what you do these days. You’re young, single, pretty and in the public eye constantly. They make pointless reality stars into the next biggest thing, so why can’t they do the same to you?”
Her father had a valid point. One she didn’t like to face.
“Just send me away,” she said, her voice soft, pleading. “I’ve done more harm than good, and I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me here.” It hurt to admit that, but she spoke the truth. He didn’t want her around, not really. When was she going to get it through her thick skull?
Her father didn’t care about her. He was obsessed with his campaign, his career, his public appearance. Garnering his attention resulted in his disapproval, no matter what she did.
“And where the hell was Russell?” her father asked, startling her from her thoughts. “Why didn’t he stop you from making a mockery of yourself?”
She couldn’t help the warmth that suffused her at the mention of Mason Russell’s name, despite her father’s insulting tone. She barely contained the shiver that stole over her.
“He was there.” Oh yes, he’d been there, in the shadows, always discreet. He’d stood outside, his big hands clasped in front of him, sunglasses hiding his spring green eyes. She had no idea if he’d watched her since he always wore those damn glasses.
But she swore his gaze had followed her every move that afternoon. Felt the hot, ravenous stare of the Secret Service agent assigned to her protection like his hands had literally touched her. Drop-dead gorgeous, the man was one-hundred-percent off limits. Besides, he never seemed to notice her anyway, despite her constant, pitiful attempts trying to get his attention.
The overenthusiastic political zealots who trailed after her family during the campaign were the reason she’d been given extra protection in the first place. An official executive order had come down six months ago.
She was glad for the protection. People went a little crazy over politics, especially considering the current economic climate. She certainly didn’t think her life was in danger, but she did feel safer having Agent Russell watching over her.
He had no idea she had a crush on him—and she wasn’t about to tell him, either. It was her dirty little secret. Her father would kill her if she was caught fooling around with the help.
“I know he’s not your babysitter, but he should’ve contacted me,” her father muttered, shaking his head.
Irritation filled her. “He doesn’t tell me what to do. He’s there to make sure I don’t get shot or abducted by some psycho.” There was no doubt her father did consider Mason Russell her babysitter and it made her nuts. His entire staff thought Mason was her keeper and she hated it.
Hated it and savored it all at once. Maybe she wouldn’t mind Mason being her keeper—in bed.
Irritation filled her. She really needed to stop thinking of him like that. It was pointless.
“I don’t appreciate you using that tone with me,” James admonished, his voice cold. He shook his head and leaned back in his chair, the springs creaking with the movement. “I want to talk to Russell.”
Blake lifted her chin, anger and disappointment surging through her. “Why?”
“Because clearly you can’t take care of yourself, so I’m going to ensure someone else will do it for you. When you leave, tell him I want to speak with him. Now.”
And just like that, her father dismissed her without another word. He reached for the phone on his desk, picked up the receiver and punched a few buttons, ignoring her as if she didn’t exist.
Tears prickling the corners of her eyes, she bit her bottom lip. Desperate not to show any sort of emotion in front of a man known for his cool, calm demeanor, she fled her father’s office without a backward glance.
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 kn
ow.”
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.
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