Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“I’m sorry.”

Her words had him swinging his gaze to her in clear surprise. “What for?”

“My personal life shouldn’t take precedence over yours.”

“It’s…”

“I know,” she said, with an impatient tut. “It’s your job. But you’re entitled to your

free time.”

“I have enough time off.”

“But you had plans tonight…?”

He shot her a wry side glance.

“I did.” His voice was laden with somber weight.

“I’m so…”

Ty interrupted her apology. “I’ve been meaning to alphabetize my bookshelf for weeks now. It’s driving me crazy.”

“Seriously?” Another squeak! She sounded like a mouse around him sometimes.

“Yes, ma’am.” His gaze went back to the numbers above the door.

“You read?”

His lips twitched but the elevator pinged before he could respond, and he did his usual alpha male/bodyguard thing, before allowing her to step out.

“Yes,” he said, to the top of her head, as he shepherded her through the foyer. He lifted a hand in greeting to the security guard at the front desk and nodded at the night porter. “If pushed, I can even write down my name. In cursive and everything…just like the big kids do.”

“That’s not what I meant,” she retorted as she settled into the car.

He didn’t reply until he was in the driver’s seat. His eyes met hers in the rearview mirror. “I read.”

“What do you enjoy reading?” she asked wriggling in the seat until she was comfortable. As usual she ignored the automatic seatbelt extender for a moment, while she reached into her trusty bilum for her compact and lipstick. It took a while to find the items she was looking for, and when she glanced up after locating her stuff, it was to find him still staring at her in the mirror.

“Seatbelt,” he reminded succinctly. She rolled her eyes but obediently reached for the belt and clicked it in place.

“Well?” She prompted.

She flipped open her compact and refreshed her Berry Nude lipstick. A soft pink shade that complimented her complexion nicely. Her eyes went back to the rearview mirror to find his gaze focused on her mouth with an intensity that sent heat blooming all over her body.

He blinked, not seeming to realize that she’d caught him staring, and appeared to shake himself before starting the car. He focused on maneuvering it through the early evening traffic.

Yeah right, just doing his job…her bloody eye. There had been nothing professional in that stare.

Vicki coughed, trying to ease the sudden dryness of her throat, and the sound drew Ty’s attention.

His eyes flickered to hers in the mirror again, before he spoke, obviously misunderstanding the reason for the sound. “I like autobiographies. Whodunnits. Thrillers. Horrors. It’s a mixed bag. Probably nothing you’d enjoy, though.”

“What makes you assume that?” she asked, stung.

“Not a single romance novel in the bunch.”

“I read more than just romance, you know?”

“Never seen it.”

“I know you think you know everything about me, Ty, but just because I like romance novels doesn’t mean I don’t read anything else. Besides, every book has a little bit of romance in it. No matter what the genre.”

“I don’t think so…”

“I do. Even your autobiographies, these are people’s life stories, and most people have fallen in love at some point.”

“I haven’t,” he grumbled, the words hiding beneath his breath. But she heard them. She sat upright and leaned toward him.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

“You said you haven’t,” she reminded him.

He shot her an irritated look over his shoulder, before focusing on the road again. “Why did you ask then?”

“The question was rhetorical. So, you haven’t what?”

“Is this another rhetorical question?”

“Been in love?”

“And another one,” he muttered with a shake of his head, keeping his eyes front.

“Not even a little bit?”

“Does that one require an answer?” he asked sarcastically.

“If you feel so inclined,” she said, really hoping he would answer.

“Not even a little bit,” he repeated. His voice was oppressively flat, definitely not encouraging further questions.

But, of course, Vicki couldn’t help herself. “What about a high school crush?”

“That’s not really love.”

“To a teenager all that desperate intensity can certainly feel like love.”

“You’ve probably been in love dozens of times,” he mused.

Vicki found herself offended by the undisguised amusement in his voice. “Why would you think that?”

“You’re all emotion. With every thought and feeling always on full display. When you’re brimming with so much…feeling, it’s easy to mistake any small hint of affection toward someone as something more intense. But it’s not always real, is it?”

“You think I’m that shallow?” she asked. She heard the husky hitch of pain in her voice and hated the fact that she was proving him right by feeling an inordinate amount of hurt at his nonchalant, none-too-flattering observation of her.

“I never said you were shallow.”

“Okay, flighty then, victim to my every emotion and impulse.”

“You know you’re impulsive. You hired that guy this afternoon even though you know absolutely nothing about him. You just liked him. Someone unqualified to do the job. And why? Because your gut tells you he’s a nice guy.”