Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

Why would he ask her that?

“I’m a single heterosexual woman, at a party, with similarly single heterosexual men. I might meet someone I like.”

She had never in her life picked up a guy on a night out expressly for casual sex. She preferred having an emotional or intellectual connection with someone before she progressed to intimacy.

But she was happy to brazen this out and see where it went.

Was it her imagination, or did that jaw tighten? “And you’d fuck him? After just meeting him?”

The crude word shocked her in its unexpectedness. But it also turned her on coming from this big, broody bastard who had lowered his gaze to stare at her dispassionately.

She canted her head, her eyes speculative as she took the measure of him. “You’ve never slept with someone you’ve just met?”

Were they at a party? It didn’t feel like they were surrounded by people. It felt like they were alone, in a dark room, standing beneath a bright spotlight trained on just the two of them.

“We’re not talking about me,” he said gruffly.

“Of course not, we never are.” She was happy to hear that the words sounded tart. Because she’d had a moment’s concern that they would come out bitter and resentful.

“I’m not, you know?”

His words confused her. They made no sense within the context of their conversation.

“Not what?”

“In a relationship with anyone at the moment.”

“Oh.” It was nice to finally have a definitive answer to that burning question. “Okay.”

“It’s hard to maintain any kind of relationship when my schedule revolves around the whims of an impetuous female.”

“I wouldn’t call myself impetuous,” she protested, taking exception to that word.

“I would.”

“Of course, you would. You can never find anything nice to say about me, can you?”

“That’s not true,” he muttered. She was close enough to hear him despite the noise coming from the people around them. “I think you have an admirable work ethic.”

Oh…her work ethic. Great. Just what every girl wanted to hear. Then again, why was she fishing for compliments? From Tyler Chambers of all people? That was one way to have her ego kicked in the crotch before being crushed beneath his bootheel.

“You haven’t hooked up with anyone since I’ve been doing this job.”

“Well, how can I? When you or Chance are always hovering right behind me? Any hopefuls would take one look at us and think we’re together. Besides, the thought of snogging someone with one of you looking on is uncomfortable. I’ve never found exhibitionism particularly titillating.”

“We would give you the privacy you needed.”

“After running the guy’s plates, doing a background check on him, and what else? How far does your mandate to protect me go? Would you delve into his medical records and demand blood tests as well?”

“No. But you should.” His brow had settled into its default position: lowered, furrowed, and a little fierce.

“Okay, Dad.” She shook her head. “I don’t know why we’re having this conversation. I was joking about the condoms, but not really about the coveralls. I like this dress…but someone is going to spill red wine on it. I just know it. Can you protect me from that, Mr. Big-Bad-Bodyguard?”

His lips lifted, and his eyes sparked with amusement.

“Of course, I can. I can make damned sure nobody comes within a two-foot radius of you, if I need to.”

She giggled. “Okay, down, boy… I’ll take my chances. I’m here to socialize not stand in a protected glass dome with you scowling and growling at anyone brave enough to try and talk with me.”

“Vicki!” The spotlight above them faded as music, and noise, and laughter bled into their private, quiet little circle. Vicki jumped when a pair of masculine arms wrapped around her from behind. After a moment’s alarm, she stopped Ty—who had pitched forward to intervene—with a quick warning glance and head shake as she recognized the voice that was so effusively greeting her.

She watched Ty go from lethal predator to marginally less lethal predator in the blink of an eye. The tension seeped out of that big body, and he settled back into his favorite position. Legs apart, hands folded across his chest, face ever-so-slightly menacing while he weighed up the man still hugging Vicki from behind.

Pete—Bella’s long-time partner—finally released Vicki, and swung her around to face him.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he shouted, and she laughed at his drunken enthusiasm. Pete was as nerdy hot as his accountant buddies whom Bella had referenced earlier. He was lanky, with wiry brown hair, earnest blue eyes, and an endearing smile. Vicki had always liked him. It helped that he was entirely devoted to Bella.

“It’s only been a year and a half, dummy. What kind of large-scale changes were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, it feels like forever.” His gaze moved to Ty, and his smiled faltered a bit. “Hey. I’m Pete.”