Champagne Kisses (The Kisses 4)

"Bring some pajamas," he said. "I wouldn't want you to get cold."

***

Dean and I laid on the roof of Tony's house. There wasn't much light pollution, so Dean told me about all the constellations he knew. He told me stories about being in the Army. I didn't care what he talked about. All I cared about was the fact that he was holding my hand.

Beneath us, Jenny and Matt were going at it again, and Jenny couldn't help but be loud. I was glad she was having such a good time, because I had never had a better time in my life. A shooting star flared across the sky, and I knew what my wish was immediately. I wished that this week would never end, that Dean and I could stay up on this roof or hang out at the bar forever. I'd even spend forever surfing with him.

If this vacation couldn't last forever, if life demanded that we move on, then I would be all right with that, as long as Dean was still a part of my life.

Chapter 9

Two and a half years ago

I alternated between staring at the heavy wooden doors and glaring at my watch. A notepad with a new pen sat waiting at my fingertips, but I wasn't even tempted to doodle. Dean Sherman had my complete and utter attention, and he wasn't even in the room yet.

What would I say to him? Hi, Dean. I sent you a letter every day for a month, but I never got one from you. That sounded too harsh. Especially since I knew he had never gotten a single one of my letters. I had sent them out religiously once I moved to New York to work for the Saunders family, but after a month of no replies, the postman had handed me a stack of unopened letters. Something in the address Dean had given me had made them undeliverable.

You could have just told me you weren't interested. Instead I waited for you. I asked my landlord to forward all my mail, but I never got anything. Not even a postcard! No, that wasn't fair either. It was very possible that my landlord just was lazy and threw out all my mail instead of forwarding it. Maybe he wouldn't even remember me. Maybe he had simply wanted to forget me.

Maybe I was just a stupid summer fling. That one hurt more than I wanted it to. Even after all this time, I still felt a connection. I hoped it wasn't just me.

The heavy wooden door swung open, and Dean strode in. My heart jumped into my throat as I took him in. It was definitely my Dean. He was still tall and lean, with the grace of a hunting cat. His dark hair had a slight smattering of silver, but instead of making him look old, it made him look distinguished. His eyes were exactly how I remembered them, blue pools the color of a winter sky.

He stopped for a moment as the door swung shut behind him. His eyes went wide for a moment, his cheeks going pale, but he regained his composure so quickly I wasn't one hundred percent sure I had even seen him hesitate.

"Hello, Dean," I said, proud that my voice didn't shake. I wiped my hand on my skirt under the desk before rising and offering it to him. His hand enveloped mine, the touch sending electrified tingles down my spine. His face gave nothing away as he let go and took a seat across from me.

"Rachel. I didn't know you worked for the Saunders family." He kept his voice neutral and professional, but I felt a thrill that he recognized me. I pushed my excitement down, though. Nothing good could come from it.

"Yes. I've worked for them for over twenty years. I'm Jack Saunders' personal assistant. I see you brought a resume?" I hoped I sounded confident because my knees were shaking. Dean slid a professional-looking resume across the desk. I had its twin in front of me, but I read down the paper again.

Joined the Army at seventeen. Selected for Special Forces and trained extensively. Deployments with Desert Storm and other classified missions. Released from the service and became a close protection officer in several diplomatic parties. His most recent position was with the young starlet.

"What ma

de you choose this profession? It looks like you were a soldier," I said looking up at him over my glasses. He was sitting perfectly straight, his suit hanging in tailored clean lines off his lithe body.

"I was injured. I took a bullet to the shoulder which makes using a rifle painful. I was released with full honors, and my commander recommended me to the protection detail for a visiting senator. My skill set transferred easily, and I have been a close protection officer ever since." His voice never fluctuated. He was the perfect example of calm. I prayed he didn't see how nervous I was.

"I see. It appears as though you have ten years experience in this sector. Why are you looking for a new position?"

Dean shifted slightly in his seat. His jaw tensed for a moment, but he answered matter-of-factly, "I was fired for breaking my client's associate's nose."

I raised my eyebrows. He continued.

"My former client is currently, and publicly, seeking treatment for substance abuse. I believed the man in question was selling her said substance, and as per my contract, I stopped him. My client was not pleased and revoked the contract."

His honest admission surprised me. You have been dealing with too many business sharks, I told myself. I liked the honest and straightforward tone of his voice; the way he spoke with authority and self-assurance. He had grown up from the cocky young man and replaced it with real confidence.

"I see. If you take this job with Mr. Saunders, you will be required to sign a non-disclosure agreement, as well as have some strange hours. Mr. Saunders will need to have you at his disposal day and night. This is not conducive to a family life. Would this be a problem for you?" I hoped my attempt at finding out if he ever married wasn't too blatant.

Dean cocked his head for a moment, then gave me a sly smile. I blushed, knowing he had figured me out.

"I don't have any family. My parents died before I joined the service, and I've never been married." A sadness crept into his eyes. "I could never find anyone willing to put up with me. Do you find it hard to be in the Saunders' employ?"

I shuffled the papers on the desk before answering. I wanted him to know I was still single, still waiting for someone, without being obvious. "No. The Saunders are the only family I have. I'm married to my work."

A ghost of a smile crossed Dean's rugged features. The room was far too warm for my taste, and I felt a trickle of sweat run down my back. The electricity in the room was humming as though we had never been apart.