Under His Protection (Protect and Defend 1)

“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.