Personal Protection

by Leah Braemel

  “That dress certainly highlights all your…attributes.”

  The air thickened until she felt like she was six feet underwater. Her hand smoothed her skirt over her knees. “I feel like a fairy princess, though I don’t know how much use I’ll be protecting you tonight without a vest. You’re wearing one under your shirt, right?”

  He leaned so close the tendril of hair that had sprung free fluttered over her ear when he spoke. “I have the feelin’ I’m gonna need to be keepin’ the men away from you tonight, Rosie. You’re so beautiful—no man in their right mind could fail to notice you. But then again, nothin’ would look beautiful on you.”

  Rosie searched for some way to answer his double entendre. Eventually she gave up and settled for staring out the window, watching the lights and buildings as the car climbed the ramp onto the beltway. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t ignore his blatant examination.

  Not once the rest of the ride did he take his eyes off her. By the time the limo pulled up in front of the hotel, she felt like a bug under a microscope. Or the proverbial mouse trapped between the cat’s paws. Only this cat was a tiger. A tiger with long fingers that had caressed her with an unrivalled skill and full lips that she wanted tasting her. Everywhere. And somehow she didn’t think real tigers sported such impressive erections.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sam waited for Rosie to get out of the limo before he moved. It wasn’t that he was trying to be gentlemanly, but he needed a few moments for his raging hard-on to deflate. His cock had been waving like a goddamned flagpole ever since he’d first seen her standing in the hallway wearing that dress. It had taken every ounce of willpower not to bury his face in her breasts.

  He snuck another glance at her legs, which she’d primly crossed at the ankle for most of the ride. There should be a law against concealing legs like those in the cargo pants she normally wore. When she made a little sigh, his gaze shifted back to her face. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen her wearing makeup before but tonight she’d done something that made her eyes appear as large as a fawn’s and added a bright red lipstick to full lips that screamed fuck me.

  As she shifted to get out of the car, the fabric strained over her cleavage, threatening to reveal the bounty it concealed. When she stepped out, her ass wiggled in front of him like she was a toreador with a bright red flag and he was the charging bull. Instead of relaxing, his cock hardened until he could feel every tooth in his zipper.

  Once he finally emerged from the limo, he couldn’t help but notice Kris’s glance down and raised eyebrow nor Phillips’ expression of amusement. Damn it, why did his employees have to be so damned good at noticing details?

  He made a mental note to cancel as many of his evening engagements as possible. There was no way he was going to be able to keep his hands off her if she insisted on accompanying him wearing anything other than the bulkiest sweaters and loose jeans. Even that probably wouldn’t keep him from getting hard, he’d probably still picture peeling them off her.

  The fundraiser was a standard D.C. schmooze session of senators and congressmen. Mingling amongst them were the ubiquitous bejeweled society matrons who were there to impress others with their philanthropy but in private couldn’t care less about the charity needing their donations.

  While Phillips stayed behind with the limo, Kris and Rosie kept close to his side, discreetly checking that no one approaching him was armed or meant him harm. He found himself regretting that they’d banned smoking in the building several years before because no matter where he went, a subtle scent of apricot, and some new scent she wore—L’air du Temp?—floated over him.

  Glasses clinked and voices murmured, nearly drowning out the bluesy quintet entertaining that evening. He pressed through the crowd, glad-handing the occasional former client or possible future ones.

  He was about to suggest he’d put in enough of an appearance when he heard someone calling him. He turned around and came face-to-face with a familiar pudgy, freckled face. Since he’d guarded the man’s father during one of his first assignments for Hauberk, the man’s hair had receded into the standard male pattern baldness horseshoe, and at least forty extra pounds now padded his short frame. But Sam knew discretion landed more contracts than honesty. “Mr. Tompkins, you’re looking good. What brings you back to D.C.?”

  “A combination of love and hard work. I finally made VP of Bennett Enterprises which means they transferred me to the Head Office.” Tompkins’s chin waggled like a turkey’s wattle as his head bobbed in excitement. The man looked twenty years older than his mid-thirties, yet acted like a teenager still.

  “So who’s the lucky lady, anyone I know?”

  Tompkins pointed to a familiar blonde standing a few feet away talking to a Senator from Louisiana. “Lee-Anne, honey, come meet one of my friends.”

  The tall blonde turned to face him, a cool, practiced smile not reaching her eyes until she recognized Sam. But behind the smile, Sam could see the calculations going on in her head. “Actually, lambkins, Sam and I are already acquainted. Sam’s a founding member of the Rouge.”

  While congratulating them both, he made a mental note to send her a reminder that the Rouge was not to be discussed in public.

  Shaking her hand was like shaking a dead fish. He knew some people suffered from arthritis and so kept their touch light, but this woman had no excuse. Especially since he’d seen her almost wielding a bullwhip.

  He preferred the firm handshake Rosie had been giving people all evening. The tiny hands that constantly gestured when she spoke. Hands that would firmly wrap around his cock and stroke him to completion. Something he suspected Greg would never experience from his fiancée. Cock-and-ball torture was more Lee-Anne’s style. There was no doubt as to who would be the Dominant in this relationship.

  Lee-Anne’s eyes darted to where Rosie stood beside him, scanning the crowd. One thin eyebrow arched up in question. “I’ve been wondering why we’ve not seen much of you at the Rouge. And now I see what’s been taking up so much of your time.” She flung her long blonde hair over her shoulder in a move she must have practiced in a mirror to perfect and held out her hand. “I don’t believe I’ve met you before, dear. I’m Lee-Anne Bennett, a friend of Sam’s.”

  Now there was an overstatement. Although as a board member he’d agreed to Lee-Anne’s membership at the Rouge, he hardly considered her a friend, more like an annoyance to be avoided when he met her at the club or anywhere else. “Lee-Anne Bennett, meet Rosalinda Ramos. Rosie is a Close Protective Officer with Hauberk.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennett,” Rosie said. “Although I believe we met at the Women’s Shelter bachelor auction a few months back.”

  Aw crap. That’s right, Lee-Anne had driven up the bidding that night and cost Jodi 70K.

  “I remember.” Lee-Anne’s voice dripped icicles. “You don’t mind if I borrow Sam for a few minutes, do you, dear? I have some private business to discuss with him.” Lee-Anne turned her back on Rosie and wrapped her nails about Sam’s biceps in an attempt to draw him away. Once she realized he wasn’t about to move, she lowered her voice until he could barely hear her over the quartet that was now playing a rousing rendition of Aretha Franklin’s Respect. “She’s not acting properly submissive—if she gives you any problems, feel free to call me to help train her.”

  Like he’d let Rosie get anywhere near the Ice Bitch. Although he suspected that Rosie might be just the one to teach Lee-Anne the effective use of a single-tail. “As I said, Rosie is my employee, not my sub.”

  “Darling! A man with your…appetites can’t go too long without eating now, can he?” She lowered her voice even further. “Enough about her. I’m sponsoring Greg for membership this year. I take it there should be no problem with getting approval from the board?”

  “His application will be viewed as objectively as every other applicant for initiation, but I know of no impediments.” Though Greg might wish to withdraw his applicati
on once he got a glimpse into Lee-Anne’s sexual proclivities. Or maybe he already knew but was willing to sacrifice his pride and dignity for a corner office.

  Lee-Anne hmmed and tried another tack. “But you will be there, won’t you, darling? I’d love for you to participate that night.”

  Sam shook his head—his neck was so stiff he thought even the band could hear his bones cracking. Even if he had been planning on it, he would have made himself unavailable for whatever humiliation she had planned for Tompkins. “I won’t be attending this year’s Gala.”

  “What happened, did your itty bitty slave convince her master to wear the dog collar for once?” Lee-Anne’s lips smiled widely, though anyone carefully watching would see her eyes were daggers formed of ice. Damned if he didn’t prefer the fire in the chocolate brown eyes of the woman beside him. “You aren’t turning into a switch, are you, darling? Because if you are, perhaps you might be open to letting me tie you up in the grotto for me to play with.”

  “If you ever mention the club in public again, or what goes on there, I’ll blackball you myself.” But the thought of Rosie wearing his collar as he led her through the halls at the Rouge had his cock hardening—especially when he pictured her breasts overflowing a leather corset he’d have made to match. Or stretching her face down on the bench he had in his suite, her ass glistening with lube as he fucked her tight rosebud entrance.

  Sam placed his wineglass on the tray of a passing waiter, then clamped one hand around Rosie’s waist. “I think it’s time we blow this popsicle stand, Ms. Ramos.”

  “I’m supposed to be guarding you, not the other way around,” she protested as he wound through the crowd to the front door.

  “I’m the one wearin’ the bulletproof vest and you aren’t, so go with me on this one, will you?” He shrugged off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders, then slid his hand back around her waist. Using his jacket as cover, his hand moved up until his fingers brushed the side of her breast.

  When she tried to pull away, the hand on her back held her firmly in place. “Mr. Watson—”

  “Why are you back to bein’ all formal? You say Mr. Watson and I look around for my daddy. My name’s Sam.” The movement of her walking in those killer stilettos had her nipple rubbing against his index finger. The soft flesh quickly pebbled and peaked. Damn she was responsive. “It’s real easy to say. Just one syllable. Sam. Say it, Rosie. Let me hear you call me Sam.”

  “S-Sam.”

  A shot of smug male satisfaction filled him. “I like the way my name spills from your lips, Rosebud.”

  “Rosebud?”

  His Georgia accent thickened, along with the heat in his eyes as he smiled. “You’re beautiful”—he leaned in and made a show of sniffing her—“and you smell delicious. And you keep yourself wrapped tighter than a bug in a rug in July. So I’m figuring you’re a rose just waitin’ to blossom.”

  Forcing herself not to focus on burgeoning heat in her breasts, in her pussy, she managed to gather herself when their limo stopped in front of them. “Be warned, Sam. This rose has thorns.”

  At least Sam waited until Kris had closed the door behind them before he replied, “Hmm, sounds like a challenge. And I have to tell you, Rosie, I do love a challenge.”

  “I thought we’d already discussed how our…dating wouldn’t be a good idea.”

  “I can’t ignore the attraction I have for you. And from the way you reacted yesterday, the way you’re reactin’ now, I’d say you’re attracted to me too.” He cupped her jaw, his thumb tracing back along her bottom lip, the touch an electric caress. “So I’m thinking maybe we could come to some…accord?”

  “An accord?” She sounded like a parrot, incapable of doing anything but echo what he said. What was it about that thumb of his that was causing her brains to short circuit?

  “An agreement so we can explore our mutual attractions.” He shifted and leaned over her, his lips hovering above hers.

  All she had to do was stretch her neck a fraction of an inch, a millimeter and he’d kiss her again. Make stars appear with those magic fingers, that talented tongue.

  He’d agreed to back off when they’d left the limo, and now he was a bloodhound on the scent of a bitch in heat. What had changed? The blonde—Lee-Anne Bennett. That’s what this was about. He didn’t want her. He just wanted an available pussy because he was between blonde bimbos.

  “I’m in charge of your protection, Mr. Watson. Entering into an affair with you could be considered unprofessional.” More to keep herself from leaning up for that kiss than to encourage him, she moved to the rear-facing seat.

  Three intersections had passed before he spoke again. “How about if I agree that I’ll not touch you or give any indication that we’re a couple while we’re in public?”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not enough. Besides you’re not going to be alone even when you’re at home—Andy, Kris or Scott will be around.”

  “They’re discreet. They have to be in this job. And if they’re not they’ll find themselves transferred to Troy McPherson’s group where he’ll assign them to Timbuktu for the rest of their careers.”

  “I’ve worked hard to get where I am—I’m the lead op and I don’t want people to think I got the position because I’m sleeping with the boss.” She frowned. “I didn’t, did I? Get this job because you want to sleep with me?”

  “No, if you care to remember, I told Chad not to put you on the team. For precisely this reason.”

  Why did things have to be so complicated? Why did he have to be, not only her principal but her boss?

  “What do you say, Rosebud? Can we come to an accord?” he asked as the limo stopped at a red light.

  “I’m…flattered, Sam. But I respectfully decline your proposal and I’d appreciate it if we didn’t discuss it anymore.”

  “All right.”

  She started to breathe a sigh of relief until he added, “For now. But I reserve the right to try to convince you you’re making a mistake.”

  Oh, good Lord, she’d just made herself a target. A challenge to be conquered. “You mean you’re going to try to seduce me?”

  “As long as you realize your job’s not at stake. And you acknowledge that—” he dropped his voice, “—you’ve been thinking about how I made you come with just my tongue.”

  Ay, he’d found a way to suck the air from her lungs and set her heart racing again. “N-no. I…”

  One of his eyebrows quirked up in a challenge.

  She shot a glance over her shoulder to ensure the divider was up all the way before whispering, “Oh, all right, yes, you’ve got a very talented mouth, I admit it. But you won’t be able to change my mind.” She hoped.

  He leaned back, stretching one arm along the back of the seat. “Rosebud, I’m fixin’ to romance you so good that before this assignment’s done, you’ll be the one seducin’ me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Without looking, Rosie placed the personnel folder she’d just finished checking on the stack piled in the middle of the dining room table. When her fingers brushed across a set of knuckles, she looked up. Fire burned in the back of Sam’s eyes as he left his hand beneath hers.

  Ever since the fundraiser, Sam had made good on his pledge to romance her. It had started when three-dozen long stemmed roses were delivered first thing the next morning. It continued when she’d gone into the office and opened her locker in the gym changing room and discovered the tennis bracelet she’d worn to the fundraiser. John Lake arrived mid-morning and plonked a brand new laptop with all the bells and whistles on her desk and told her it was hers to keep. Later that afternoon, she’d gone to the firing range, and discovered a new Sig Sauer in her gun cabinet. It was when she’d gone to the parking lot to run an errand, and found a brand new Lexus in place of her ten-year-old Honda that she’d marched into Sam’s office. Slamming the bracelet, gun and car keys on his desk, she’d informed him that she couldn’t be bought, bribed or otherw
ise purchased.

  Grudgingly, he’d taken back those gifts, but insisted she keep the laptop and gun—somehow convincing her that she’d need them as his lead op. And the flowers continued to arrive each morning until every room in the apartment now contained a vase and Andy couldn’t stop sneezing.

  She forced herself to pull her hand back, moving it to the pile of unchecked personnel folders. No matter how much she told herself she could resist him, the electricity between them crackled and hissed like a living entity and she knew the barriers she had erected would soon crumble.

  Would their affair burn bright but fast, ending quickly? Or would it be a long, smoldering fire?

  As if sensing her disintegrating walls, Sam stood, “I’m gonna go get a drink.” As he walked by, he leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Chicken.”

  Each night since the party, he’d made a point of coming to the apartment to help wade through the folders of potential suspects. They’d divided the files into five piles. Scott flipped through the bodyguards’ records from the Hauberk Protection section while she and Kris cleared the employees who worked in the Security Services unit. That pile had been huge, since they had hundreds of security guards in the various apartments and businesses around D.C. Two smaller piles of the alarm systems technicians and the Information Technology geeks still had to be tackled. They ruled out as suspects any employees who were not in town when the photos or phone calls had been made, but gotten into quite a discussion about whether to exclude those who hadn’t had bad reviews. Meanwhile, Andy and Sam examined Hauberk’s client files for someone who might want revenge.

  “Here’s a guy who could be a suspect,” Scott said. “Barry Germaine—he got fired about six months ago. Anyone know anything about him?”

  “Yeah, I remember him. He only worked here about six months, if that.” Andy looked up from the chair where he’d draped one leg over the arm. “But Sam didn’t fire him, Chad did.”