by Ciana Stone
"I hear you. I follow that rule, too. Which makes this assignment difficult. I'm supposed to act like I'm knocking boots with him on a regular basis?"
"Yep," Lula said. "And you're going to have to let people see you cop a feel or kiss him every now and then and tell him to do the same. You're supposed to be two people who met over the holidays, fell madly in lust and can hardly stand to be out of each other's sight. Which reminds me, did he give you a key to his place?"
Josie pushed her half-full glass away. She was starting to feel a little queasy. "I have to say something, and I don't want either of you to think bad of me, but I have to say it. This assignment is so fucked up."
Lula snickered, and Josie scowled at her. "I'm serious, Lula. I'm supposed to move into some man's house that I don't even know, make an entire town think I'm so hot for him I can't breathe unless we're in the same room, and somehow convince him to pretend the same. How the holy hell am I going to manage that?"
"Easy," Lula said, "use what God gave you girl."
"Pardon?"
"Don't pull that shit with me, Josie. You know you're gorgeous. And sexy. So, use it. Flirt with him, let him know that even though it's a job it doesn't mean you can't have fun. Use your powers of persuasion to get him on board with looking at you the way a man looks at a woman he can hardly keep his hands off of."
"I agree." Naomie chimed in. "If the two of you don't have that yeah we're doing it and it’s fucking mind-blowing vibe then you won't convince anyone of the cover story."
Josie put her arms on the table and then lowered her head down to rest on them. "You want me to seduce the football coach?"
There was silence, and finally, she looked up. "Well?"
Naomie and Lula looked at one another and then at her. "Yeah, that pretty much sums it up," Lula answered. "I'm not saying to have sex with him because that is definitely outside the scope of your assignment, but you can make him want it really bad."
"I hate you. I should never have let you talk me into this."
"You do not hate me. You're doing this because you're my friend and I needed a favor."
"This goes way beyond a favor, Lula."
"Yes, I suppose. But consider this..."
"What?" Josie asked when Lula just sat there with a cat who licked the cream smirk on her face.
"What if you discover that the act isn't an act?"
"Seriously? You think I'm seriously going to fall for a good-looking, high school football coach who lives in bumfuck—sorry, small town USA?"
"I think stranger things have happened. Think about it. You both love football, you're both active and probably like to work out and –and who knows how much else you have in common. What if this is fate, Josie?"
"Fate is a bitch who takes what you love from you."
Lula reached out to take Josie's hand. "I know it seems that way and I'm so sorry about what happened to Mike. He was a good guy. One of the best. But you know he died doing what he loved, and what mattered to him. You know that, Josie. We should all be so lucky."
"I know. I get it, Lula, I do. And I know if he was here, he'd literally thump me in the head and tell me to get on with it. Life is for the living. That's what he used to say after he cried and drank himself to sleep over losing someone to war. Life is for the living. Don't you ever forget that Josie."
"He meant it. And you've been alone too long. It's been what, three years?"
"I'm not going to fall in love with the football coach, Lula. Not. Going. To. Happen."
"Okay, then just do your job the way we were trained. Make your cover more believable than what's real."
Josie knew her friend was right, about a lot of things. She knew the minute Lula showed up that her life was about to change. Even though she was now questioning, and even resisting, Josie knew that when she left Lula's house, she'd drive to Dillon Walker's. Once there, she'd put on her game face and set about creating a character for herself to be for the duration of this assignment. A woman who was insanely in lust with the high school football coach.
*****
Dillon popped the tops on two longneck beers and carried them both to the back deck where his brother Riggs sat waiting. "Thanks," Riggs accepted the beer.
"Wait. You're telling me there's no one camped on your doorstep guarding you night and day?" Dillon asked.
"Don't go there, little bro. You and I are not birds of a feather, and you know that. But in answer to your question, there is additional security, and at the risk of pissing in your cornflakes, the old man asked my opinion on the recommendations for the rest of the family."
"And you approved the—bodyguard they selected for me? Thanks, Riggs, even my brother thinks I'm such a pussy that I need a girl to watch out for me. What the fuck, man?"
"There you go, playing the baby of the family card. Don't you get it? He's scared for all of us, Dillon. When that threat came in, it scared him and Uncle Richard. They'd thumb their noses at someone who threatened them, but their families? You know better. Dad may be a hard-ass, but he loves us, and he'll do whatever it takes to keep us safe."
"Including hiring a girl, who I'm supposed to be involved with, to watch over me. Like I'm a kid."
"But dude, what a girl. I mean, damn bro, if he wanted to hire me a bodyguard that looked like Josie Harper, I'd be like bring it on, you know what I mean?"
"Yeah, you'd be in her pants before you knew her last name. I get it."
"That's not what I meant, but whatever. If that's what it takes to sell the idea that the two of you are hot and heavy, then live the fantasy man."
"I don't—you don't get it."
"Then explain it to me."
"I can't just pretend. Either it's real, or it's not."
"Then I'd say you have a problem and you better get a handle on it because," Riggs checked his watch. "She'll be here in under two hours, and you've got to have your mind wrapped around how to deal with it."
"I really hate this. With Lula it was easy. She made it a game, and we knew it wasn't real. With Miss Harper—"
"Josie. You've got to get used to using her name, man."
"Fine. With Josie, it's different. She's not married. I mean she was, but her husband was killed and –and why the hell did she say yes to this crazy plan?"
"Because Uncle Richard and Lula asked her to."
Dillon nodded, tipped up his beer and chugged down half of it. "Maybe it's because he's family, but don't you find it remarkable how devoted people are to him?"
"Not really. It's like Dad. People stand in awe of Dad, respect and even fear him and it's not because he acts like a badass or bullies anyone. He's just naturally the leader of the pack, if you know what I mean. Uncle Richard, he's that guy that makes you believe and believe in and inspires people to want to do better and be better, and they'd do anything to help him get us—all of us, to that shining dream he's made us see.
"He's the real deal, man. He's the shining star, and Dad's the mind and muscle that holds it all together so that Richard can charm the birds from the sky and we can all rest easy. He's the equivalent of the man on the wall, standing watch over all of us, ready to die when needed."
"I guess they are pretty special. But that doesn't change the fact that they don't think I can take care of myself."
"No, it doesn't. But what would you rather have, little brother? A father who didn't care, or one who'd give it all to make sure you survived? Remember what he told us when we were kids? We're the future, the ones who'll hold the legacy for all the Walkers to come.
"That means something to him, Dillon. Don't fault him for it."
"So, I should just shut the fuck up and play along?"
"Well, that's one way of putting it. And who knows? You might just have a good time. Stranger things have happened."
"I'll believe it when I see it."
"Yep, I guess so. Okay, I'm outta here. Keep it between the ditches."
"See ya."
Dillon sat there after Riggs left, think
ing about what his brother had said and what was about to come. What he hadn't told Riggs and wouldn't tell anyone is that the thing that bothered him the most about this awful plan was that he'd taken one look at Josie Harper and had damn near gotten an erection.
From one look. God only knew what would happen when she moved in and he had to see her every day. Weren't there drugs to control that?
As crazy as that might seem, he got up and hurried inside to grab his Macbook and do some research.
Chapter Four
Josie put in her earbuds and turned on music as she read the dossier she'd been provided on Dillon Walker. She was trying to form a mental picture of who he was and had been.
A high school football star offered scholarships by the top ten universities and colleges in the country with top-notch football programs, he'd sailed through to his bachelor's degree, carrying his team from one winning season to another.
His senior year, the NFL came courting. It probably didn't come as a surprise that he took the offer from Texas. His first two years, Dillon didn't see much actual game time, but he used those years to his advantage and completed his Master's Degree.
Year number three Dillon's star rose. His first game transformed him from a second-string quarterback to a star, and that's where he stayed for three years. She remembered watching him play. Talk about an arm. She once saw him throw a seventy-yard pass to win a game.
Yes, he was a darling of the sport. Big contract, lots of endorsements and women coming out of the woodwork. He nearly married his third year in the pros, but his fiancé caught him in a threesome with her best friend and a television star, and resulting scandal was ugly.
After that he fell out of the headlines until a play went horribly wrong. He was rushed, and his left knee crushed, and there was damage to his spinal column. Two surgeries and eighteen months later, the verdict was in. He'd never play professionally again.
Dillon disappeared for nearly a year, then reappeared, coaching for a high school in Oklahoma. He took the team to state and left the school. For the next few years, he moved from state to state and soon earned a reputation as a king-maker, turning green players into stars.
He might not have returned home had scandal not rocked his world again. Once more, a sex scandal. The only difference was this time the rumors were that he and the vice principal's wife were into some pretty kinky stuff, and when they were found out, she accused him of being a freak who liked to hurt women.
His family quickly put a lid on that. The vice principal found himself suddenly a wealthy man who no longer needed a job. So, he and his money left the cheating wife and headed for Cabo where he was to this day.
Dillon went home to Texas and with this help of his family, secured the job of head coach for the Cotton Creek Mustangs. He took them all the way to State his first year and now they were the defending champs.
And there had been no mention at all of him being involved with a woman in the time he'd been back in Texas. It was as if he'd embraced celibacy as a way of life, despite all the offers he received.
Josie closed the file and leaned back to shut her eyes. She pictured Dillon in her mind, the way his eyes didn't seem connected to his smile, and the civility demonstrated in his speech that seemed a contrast to the tension evident in his posture.
Was he a man who hid rage behind an affable facade? She hoped not because darkness called to darkness and to her shame she had more than her fair share already.
*****
Dillon checked the caller ID when his phone rang. "Hello."
"Mr. Walker? Josie Harper here. I should arrive in about five minutes. Could you check and see if there are neighbors out and about?"
"Does it matter?"
"Actually, it does. If there are people who might witness my arrival, then your reception would demand a certain degree of enthusiasm and intimacy if we are to stay in character with the roles we've been assigned for the duration of this assignment."
"Oh. Well, let me check. Hold on." Dillon left the back deck and walked through the house. Josie's tone of voice held no enthusiasm, that was for sure. She sounded all business, and it occurred to him that despite the unusual aspects of the assignment, that's exactly what it was for her. A job.
That's how he'd treat it as well. And with luck, none of his neighbors would see her arrive. He stepped out onto the front porch, and his heart sank. The couple across the street from him were out in their front yard, taking down holiday lights from the house.
Their next-door neighbor had the garage open, and the man was working on his riding lawnmower. Damn. "There are people around," he said into the phone.
"Then greet me like you're happy to see me, Coach. This is my introduction to Cotton Creek, and we need to sell our roles."
"I know what I'm supposed to do, Agent Harper." He could be just as professional, and if that's how she wanted to play this, then he said, Game On. He'd play to win.
"Good. See you in a couple of minutes."
He sat on the front porch swing, rocking back and forth. The neighbor across the street taking down holiday lights saw him and threw up a hand. "Afternoon Coach!"
"Afternoon, Andy."
A black Jeep Wrangler slowed as it neared his driveway and then turned in. Dillon stood and started toward it. The horn of the Jeep sounded a couple of loud blasts before the vehicle came to a stop.
The door opened, and Josie climbed out. He damn near missed a step. Holy hell. The last time he saw her, she was wearing a rather severe business suit, slacks and jacket over a white shirt. Today she had on jeans that rode low, a skin-tight sweater that rode high and cowboy boots.
To his surprise, she ran over to him and literally leaped at him. Dillon caught her by the waist, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as her arms snaked around his neck. "Here we go," she said a moment before she kissed him.
For a split second, all he could do was stand there, in shock. When she murmured against his lips, "Work with me Coach," he snapped to, slapped one hand beneath her firm ass and the other on the back of her head to take control of the kiss.
Dillon felt her stiffen and took a bit of pride in being able to shock her a little. But she recovered quickly, and when the kiss ended, she drew back, ran her index finger sideways across her lips and cocked one eyebrow. "Well, that should do it for starters. What do you say we get my stuff from the car?"
"Works for me." His hands drifted up over her rear and to her back as she kind of slithered down his body. "I'm assuming you're aware we have an audience."
"You think I'd greet you this way if we didn't? Now smile, Coach. Like you said, we have an audience."
Dillon felt his expression probably looked more like rictus due to a gas attack than an actual smile. It was quickly becoming clear that pretending was harder than it seemed.
Right, and you didn't enjoy that kiss at all.
Sometimes he downright resented having a conscience. He let her take his hand and together they walked to her car. She looked across the street and waved. That's when Dillon saw Andy and his wife, Beth, both watching. Carl, the neighbor next to them, was now standing in the driveway with a wrench in one hand and a greasy rag in the other.
Great.
"I see that look, and you need to get rid of it," she turned into him playfully, ran both sets of fingers into the waistband of his pants and tugged. "They need to believe, remember?" She stood on tiptoe and kissed his chin.
"Well, you're doing a fine job, Agent Harper."
Josie smiled up at him, and he was all too aware that the smile did not reach her eyes. "Why thank you, Coach."
With that, she turned, opened the back hatch and grabbed a piece of luggage and a laptop case. He grabbed hold of one very large piece of luggage. "Did you bring everything you own?" He grunted as he hefted the heavy bag onto the driveway.
"There's one more," she pointed. "And no, but again, the objective is to make it seem real and do you think a woman would move in with her lover and not
arrive with her stuff?"
"I can see I am woefully ignorant about such matters." He dragged out the last suitcase.
"No worries." She closed the hatch. "Shall we?"
He gestured for her to precede him and followed her to the front door. She stopped and waited for him to open the door then entered.
Once inside she turned to look at him. "You do have a guest room, correct?"
"Yeah, this way."
For the first time since he'd moved into the house, he gave a silent thanks to his twin sister, Delaney, who'd decorated the place. There were two guest suites, and each was well appointed, with a queen-size bed, a small sitting area, and private bath. He directed her to the largest of the two.
"Make yourself at home."
"Maybe we should talk about a plan for the work week?"
"Sure."
"Great. Can we do that while I unpack?"
"Yeah, sure." Wow, when had he become reduced to one syllable words?
"Well, sit. It's your house, after all." She grabbed the biggest piece of luggage and easily slung it on top of the bed.
Their conversation far outlasted her unpacking and they moved from her room to the kitchen. "I can cook if you have groceries," she commented. "And I'll go to the store tomorrow and stock up. I don't expect you to feed me. Oh, and I am kind of a coffee snob. I have a box in the back seat of the Jeep and a coffeemaker – cold brew. And oh boy, are you in for a treat. You'll never go back to regular once you taste my brew."
"I haven't been to the store, so why don't I take you to the steakhouse? It's good."
"That's fine with me. Do you have anything to drink?"
"Beer and orange juice."
"I wouldn't say no to a cold beer."
He joined her, and they went onto the back deck and resumed their conversation. Over the next hour, Dillon's opinion of Josie Harper underwent a dramatic change. Not only did she know her stuff when it came to off-season training, but it became clear that she loved football.
That both pleased and concerned him because she was becoming more attractive every moment and the last thing he could do was be interested in a woman who was only there because she was hired to protect him.