Her Protector

by R. S. Lively

  "Tell me again what he said," Lee's voice calls from somewhere in the dark recesses of my closet.

  "He said we were going to a show, but that I didn't need to dress up."

  "Men need to come together with several female delegates and come up with a standardized lexicon, because that is all kinds of vague. Is that ‘don't dress up like your sequins might be a tad much but you better still be showing off some cleavage and put on your big girl jewelry’, or is it ‘don't dress up like your grandma won't be there so booty shorts is fine and if your hot pink bra is showing under your tank top, so much the better’?"

  "Now you're understanding my dilemma. Although, I don't own a pair of booty shorts or a hot pink bra, and even if I did, it's February, so that makes that distinction easier."

  "Hey look," Lee says, coming to the doorway of the closet, "it's sophomore year."

  He hops over the threshold and into the room. I laugh.

  "Very nice. What did you choose?"

  He's holding several articles of clothing, and more are draped back over his shoulder.

  "If he's not going to give you a better idea of what you should wear, then you're going to Girl Scouts this bitch and be prepared."

  Fifteen minutes later I'm wearing a concoction of clothing I never would have come up with but that couldn't be more perfect. A pair of tight black pants and a black long-sleeve shirt create the foundation, but it's everything else that ensures no matter where on the ‘don't dress up’ spectrum this date falls, my outfit can be ready for it. A flick of the wrist takes the fashionably oversized gauze scarf from around my neck and turns it into a piece I can snap around my waist for a half-skirt train effect while also revealing the deep scoop of my neckline. Sparkling accents on my pockets are actually dramatic earrings and the piece of antiqued gold over the band holding back my curls is an engraved cuff Lee gave me for my birthday years ago, so I can shake my hair down and add jewelry if the situation warrants it.

  I feel like a superhero.

  The last-minute swipe of lipstick is just setting when the doorbell reverberates through my apartment. Lee heads to the door and I run after him, hopping on one foot and shoving the other into a simple black pump ideal for any number of situations. They are the utility belt of shoes. Lee is reaching for the doorknob when I get into the living room.

  "Lee!" I hiss.

  His eyes meet mine and hold them even as he takes hold of the doorknob and pulls. Dean peeks around the door, and I see a bouquet of pink and white calla lilies in his hand. Lee looks at him, then turns slowly back to me, his mouth hanging open. One finger lifts slowly in front of his stomach so Dean can't see it, pointing at the flowers, then up toward his face. As it starts to move back down, I rush forward and pull him out of the way, putting myself in between him and Dean.

  "Hi," I say.

  "Hi. You look beautiful."

  "Thank you. You look nice, too."

  This is awkward as hell. Lee bursting into a sudden sputtering, coughing fit behind me isn't helping. Dean's eyes try to climb up over my shoulder to look at Lee and I relent, stepping out of the way and gesturing at him.

  "Dean, this is my best friend, Lee."

  A smile flickers across his face and he nods, stretching his hand out toward Lee.

  "Nice to meet you. I'm Dean."

  Lee shakes his hand and mutters something unintelligible under his breath.

  "We're going to go now," I say. "Lock up when you leave."

  "I'm leaving now." He kisses me on my cheek and dips through the door. His voice drops slightly. "Do everything you wouldn't do."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Have a great night!" His hand pops back through the door in a wave. "And do everything I would."

  His voice trails off as he disappears.

  "I'm sorry about him," I say.

  Dean shakes his head as he steps into the living room and closes the door.

  "Don't be sorry. He seems great. How long have you known him?"

  Rummaging under the kitchen produces a cut-glass vase I knew was there but have no idea why.

  "Most of my life." I tuck the vase under the faucet and fill it most of the way. "We've kind of drifted in and out of each other's circle, but we've been pretty inseparable for years."

  The flowers spread out and look even more beautiful nestled together in the water, and I step back just to admire them for a few seconds.

  "Are you ready?"

  I follow Dean out of the house and down to the sidewalk. I'm fairly certain I see Lee out of the corner of my eye, hunkered in a bush, staring down at his watch like he's timing how long it took for us to come out. I don't bother to check. If it is him, he won't be able to hold back from telling me and giving me the full rundown of his opinions. The sleek black car sitting at the curb surprises me. I'm so used to traversing the city in taxis, buses, and the subway, an unattended car looks out of place.

  "Your car?"

  Dean runs his eyes over it, like he's making sure.

  "Yeah. I prefer to use my own car whenever I can. Gets me around more easily."

  He opens the passenger side door for me, and I have to admit I have a fluttering breathless feeling as I slip inside. I can't remember the last time a man opened a door for me. Come to think of it, I can't remember the last time a man did anything for me. My seatbelt clicks into place as Dean gets in beside me.

  "Now are you going to tell me where we are going?" I ask.

  Dean flashes me the grin that is at the same time meltingly sexy and boyishly cute as he cranks the engine. My kiss is still waiting for me.

  "Not yet. But I do have a question to ask you."

  "What's that?"

  "How do you feel about theater?"

  Be still my heart, and all the other parts of my body responding to Dean right now.

  I take a second to regain my composure so my response will come out as something more than a fangirl squeal. For a moment, the thought of telling him about Wonderland crosses my mind, but I push it away. Too much. That would be letting him in too close, especially because of the door to the dark place it would open as soon as I mention it. I decide to stay casual.

  "It's one of my favorite things in the world."

  "Mine, too. That's why I came to New York."

  As we drive away from my building, I start to contemplate the various transformations of my outfit, readying myself to go into my superhero identity if we're going to be going to the theater for a show. It's difficult to gauge by Dean, who's wearing a pair of charcoal pants and gray sweater that could easily blend into many different settings and situations.

  Turns out, I didn't need to be worried.

  My palms tingle and my heart pounds in my chest as I lean slightly against the metal railing in front of me to look down at the stage. The catwalk offers a view like none other, one I have taken in at Wonderland many times. Seeing the view from one catwalk doesn't take away the thrill of any other. Each theater is unique, and the vantage point high above everything happening on the stage and in the house lets you see details invisible from more conventional positions around the theater.

  "This is amazing," I whisper, almost more to myself than to Dean.

  "You like it? I know it's not exactly the most conventional seating. I just love sitting up here to watch shows. It's a completely different experience."

  "I love it," I say, so fast it almost cuts him off. "It reminds me of…"

  My voice trails off and heat stretches across my cheeks.

  "Reminds you of what?"

  I shake my head and Dean nudges me with his shoulder.

  "No."

  "Tell me."

  My head swings over in his direction.

  "It's about a movie. Isn't that a little sacrilegious in the theater?"

  "Maybe if you whisper it, it'll be okay. The theater gods won't hear you."

  My bottom lip feels suddenly parched, and I run my tongue over it quickly as I lean subtly toward Dean.

  "It reminds m
e of my favorite movie kiss of all time. Little Women. The professor brings Jo up to the catwalk to watch a play and translates it for her, then they kiss. It's the most romantic kiss I've ever seen."

  The air around us buzzes and everything else falls away. All I can hear is our breath and my own heartbeat. We close the space between us painfully, deliciously slowly. Finally, our faces are close enough to brush against each other. Our mouths meet, cautiously at first, then sink into each other. It is everything I want and everything I have tried not to feel. I breathe him in when our mouths part and lift my eyes to his. The jewel tone of his gaze has softened to velvet. My heart pounds in my chest and my hands tremble slightly.

  Dean doesn't say anything but reaches down to take hold of the leg of my chair and yanks me closer. His mouth catches my gasp and presses into a deeper kiss. My lips part and I finally taste him. He tastes like warmth and sweetness, like he'd sucked on a butterscotch. His hand slips into my hair and cradles my face, nibbling at my bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth.

  It's a good thing I have already seen this play many times before, because Dean continues to kiss me for the rest of the first act, as the theater brightens and grows quiet during intermission, and on through the second act until I'm breathless.

  My hand rests over his, our fingers linked, as he drives me home. It's one of those moments I would expect to be awkward and uncomfortable with the unspoken words, but it doesn't feel that way. It's a heady, blissful feeling that surrounds us like a warm bubble and lingers even as we climb out of the car and walk back to my door.

  Dean takes the keys from my hand and turns the deadbolt and then the lock in the knob. He turns back to me and cups his hands around my face to hold it as he draws me in for another kiss. I step back from it before the heat can burn out of control.

  “Thank you for tonight,” I say softly.

  “I want to see you tomorrow.”

  My stomach trembles, but I shake my head.

  “I can't. I have so much to do for work.”

  “The next day?”

  “How about the next?”

  “I'll call you.”

  “Good night, Dean.”

  One step into my living room, and I feel his hand wrap around my wrist and pull me back into his arms. I gasp and smile as my body hits his chest, and he gathers me close to capture my mouth in another kiss. The world is spinning by the time I finally make it inside and close the door behind me. My back touches the wood and I bite down on my bottom lip. There's barely enough time for me to finish relishing the taste of his kiss and the feel of his strong hands before my phone rings.

  “I just want to tell you goodnight and make sure you got inside alright.”

  I smile at the sound of Dean's voice.

  “You watched me walk inside. You know I got in alright.”

  “Not into your bedroom.”

  The flush across my face is immediate and so hot I'm sure he can feel it through the phone. Pushing away from the door, I stride through the apartment and into my bedroom.

  “I made it,” I tell him.

  Dean chuckles under his breath.

  “Good night, Alice.”

  I end the call and toss my phone onto the bed. No sooner has it bounced on my floral bedspread than it rings again. Scooping it up, I slip out of my heels and start to undress.

  “Calling to see if I make it into my pajamas alright?”

  “No, I'm pretty confident in your ability to dress yourself. That has never been an issue before that I'm aware of.”

  A deep sigh puffs out of my lungs and brings with it all the warm, syrupy feelings Dean had started conjuring up.

  “Lee, what are you doing up this late?”

  “I'm always up this late. The question is, what are you doing up this late?”

  “Getting into my pajamas and going to bed.”

  “Alone?”

  “Of course, alone. Dean dropped me off a few minutes ago.”

  “And that's it?”

  “He told me he wants to see me tomorrow. But I said I can't. There's way too much to do and I can't let myself get distracted.”

  “You turned down seeing that man again as immediately as possible?”

  “I told you. I don't want to get myself too wrapped up and start letting things at the theater slide because my head is all swimmy from Dean. Besides, we're going to see each other in a few days.”

  “You better or I'm going in your place. We swapped places for the dinner, we can swap again.”

  “I'm sure you'd be very convincing. Good night.”

  I want to go to sleep. All I want to do is wash off my makeup, put on something silky, and slip under the sheets so I can continue floating on the feeling of Dean. But something compels me to open my phone and just skim through my emails. I've been away from the theater for the majority of the last two days and I want to make sure I'm up to date on everything. The first message catches my eye and my stomach sinks. Opening it, I read through Q's scathing, threatening words with a knot in my throat.

  Fuck. Sweatpants and dwelling in misery it is.

  Chapter Ten

  Dean

  With two successful dates down, I'm feeling much more confident planning my time with Alice. The last two days without her have given me plenty of opportunity to come up with our next adventure, but it’s also left me missing her more than I expected. I'm drawn to her in a way I don't think I ever have been to anyone else. She's free and funny, but brilliant and creative. All that packaged in soft curves, long legs, and entrancing eyes is enough to keep her on my mind virtually every moment. Her kiss is still lingering with me as I walk through the doors to my office. Jonathan glances up at me from his curved white desk and smiles.

  “I didn't expect to see you in today, Dean. Did you hear from Mr. Pfeiffer again?”

  I laugh and drum out a rhythm on his desk with my fists, not able to contain my excitement at seeing Alice again in just a few short hours.

  “No, he seems to be doing fine for now. I just want to check in with Acquisitions. There are several potential purchases in various stages, and I haven't gotten an update in a few months.”

  The elevator brings me up to the third floor, and I walk into the Director of Acquisitions’ large office. Micah’s on his phone as usual. I probably see the man with a receiver pressed against his ear more often than not. He fast talks his way through the end of his conversation and drops the phone to his desk.

  “Dean, I'm glad you came in. I might have some interesting updates to give you.”

  “That's good to hear, Micah. You haven't been sending me as much information over the last few months. I was beginning to worry some of the deals I've been relying on aren't working out.”

  “Nothing to worry about. Everything is going perfectly according to plan, including...”

  His voice trails off and his lips curve into a smile that I would almost be tempted to call mischievous, if I didn't know Micah well enough to say with absolute certainty never is, and never has been, mischievous in his life.

  “Including what?” I ask, taking his bait.

  “There is a property we invested in a couple of years back that’s no longer living up to its end of the contract. Which means soon we’ll be able to take over and add it to your collection.”

  “What property?”

  My mind sifts through all the real estate I've purchased in the last several years, but I can't come up with one I would call an investment.

  “Do you remember that tiny little theater? The rundown one you kept calling ‘charming’?”

  The image of the vintage theater pops into my mind.

  “Oh, of course. I remember really liking it. But I also remember when you went to inquire about purchasing it, there was someone else already interested, so we backed off. My stance is always that I am in the business of making dreams come true, not taking them away from anyone.”

  “Yes, that's true,” he says, pointing at me in that way people do w
hen they want to convince you of something. “But then we found out the person wanting to purchase the theater didn't exactly have the buying power to acquire it and also run it.”

  “So, you went behind my back and bought it out from under them anyway?”

  “So, we made the executive decision to carry on with your vision of helping others while also putting the business in the position of acquiring a piece of real estate that interested you and has great potential for the growth of DreamMakers, Inc.”

  “And how exactly did you do that?”

  “I approached the prospective buyer and offered a business agreement. In exchange for a very generous investment, they make regular payments. Though there was the possibility of the agreement being successful and that buyer eventually taking full ownership and financial control of the theater, I went into the agreement with absolute confidence we could scoop up the theater as an additional asset for next to nothing when the buyer inevitably defaulted.”

  “Let me guess. That's exactly what's happening now.”

  “Yes. We've been extremely lenient and gone to great extent to offer extensions and find options, but there's been no headway in months, and the final deadline written into the contract is quickly approaching.”

  “You say you've offered assistance and support?”

  “Of course. We wouldn't just swoop in like vultures and send somebody's dream crashing to the ground. That wouldn't exactly be great press for your business.”

  I bounce what Micah is telling me around in my head for a few seconds before nodding.

  “Keep working with them. See what you can come up with. Send me updates.”

  “Absolutely.”

  I spend the next hour browsing through the building, checking in on the different departments within my small satellite office. Most offer me updates and new information about various projects I have working, and new ideas for how to manage issues that have shown up during bucket list fulfillments.