by Ciana Stone
"Amen to that." She clicked her glass to his and then sipped. "Ah, that's good."
Josie leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a moment. She could almost feel Dillon watching her. She opened her eyes and sure enough he was.
"Talk to me, Josie."
"About what?"
"What the hell happened tonight? How did you disarm and overpower a man twice your size and why did you need to do that? And why did Lula go all Lara Croft on that guy in the bar?"
Josie had another sip of her drink. "I saw those two men at the bar. They were watching you. And they noticed me watching them. So I went to the restroom and they waylaid me. One of them said I was going to go outside and the other was going to keep an eye on you.
"Since the objective is to keep danger away from you, I agreed. I passed Lula and when our gazes met, I looked at the partner, who was, by then, at the bar behind where you were sitting with the Booster Club. She knew what I wanted from her, so I went outside. I knew she and Lincoln would keep the partner contained."
Josie noticed that Dillon was making short order of his drink. She took another sip of hers before continuing. "The man who went out with me had a message."
"What?"
This was the part she hated repeating. "He said they could get to you anytime they wanted, so I needed to tell my boss that it's really not in his best interest to keep bucking the powers that be."
Dillon's mouth opened then closed then opened again. "They can't say that."
"Yeah, they can say it."
"I mean it's illegal to threaten our family because he stands up for what he believes is right."
"Yes, it is and I'd imagine they will be in federal custody quite soon."
He nodded, polished off the rest of his drink and set the glass on the side table. "How did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Disarm that guy?"
"It's what I'm trained for."
"You really were part of the Secret Service weren't you?"
"Yes."
"Always?"
"No, I was with the Department of Justice before that."
"So, you go all Lara Croft, too?"
Josie smiled. "You have a thing for Lara Croft?"
"Who doesn't? But seriously, why would you do that? Put yourself in danger?"
"Dillon, that's the whole reason I'm here."
He rubbed one hand over his mouth and chin, then up to his forehead and back through his hair. Finally, he shook his head, grabbed his glass and went to the bar. He refilled his glass and literally downed the entire thing.
"Wow, alcoholic much, Coach?" She set her unfinished drink aside.
"I—never mind." He marched over and took hold of her arm to pull her to her feet. "I don't quite know how I'm supposed to deal with all—all this."
"- know it's an intrusion into your life and highly inconvenient and I apolo—"
"Inconvenient?" He laughed. "Inconvenient is running out of cream and having to drink your coffee black. Inconvenient is forgetting to fill up your car with gas on your way home and having to do it on your way to work when you're already late. This?" He gestured around. "This here? This isn't inconvenient, it's crazy."
"It's to keep you safe."
"Then why couldn't they have assigned a man to protect me? I could have a male trainer, and no one would blink."
"But could you have a male roommate, and no one would blink?" She saw realization dawn and pressed the issue. "Right. You're not gay and I'm pretty sure you'd suck at trying to pretend you are, so they went with me. And if you're not satisfied that I can—"
Faster than she could blink, he had hold of her neck, reeling her in to plant his lips on hers. Josie refused to react and kept her lips sealed and her body tense. It eroded her control a bit when he put his free arm around her waist and yanked her in tight to him.
Even with evidence of his excitement pressing against her, she held her ground. At least until his fingers tightened in the hair on the back of her head, pulling her head back as he whispered against her lips. "Kiss me."
Oh holy hell, her knees felt weak. The tone of his voice, the tension in his body and the fire she saw in his eyes when she pulled back enough to look was the fuel her hunger demanded. She allowed her lips to part and after one more look that told her more than a book of words, he kissed her again.
Oh damn. She was toast. No doubt about it. This kiss. This was the one that threatened to strip away all thoughts of duty. She'd known she was attracted to him and had wondered too many times to count what it would be like, but never had she imagined this kind of gut deep hunger.
"Stop," she whispered against his mouth. "Dillon, stop."
"You don't really want me to, do you?"
Something in the tone of his voice made her hackles rise and it took a moment to figure out why. "Oh, I get it. You're playing me."
"Isn't that what you did tonight? With the sexy clothes and being attentive and flirtatious?"
Josie hated that he'd figured out she was up to something, but she had a handy excuse that just happened to be the truth even if it hadn't been her only motivation. "We need people here to think we can't keep our hands off one another."
"Then why did you say stop?"
"Because we're alone."
"Yes, we are."
"Right, so now we can stop pretending."
"Is that what we're doing? Really? Because I can't tell with you, Josie. One minute you're giving me the come and get it look and the next it's hands off buddy."
Josie pushed him away and sidestepped to get around him. "I'm going to bed."
"We're not done." He grabbed her arm and none too gently.
That tore it. She didn't care if he'd had too much to drink, was frustrated over the situation or was just plain being a jerk. Whatever the case, he'd just crossed a line. "I'd appreciate it if you'd let go."
"And if I don't? You gonna go all Lara Croft on me, Agent Harper?"
That's when she knew he was drunk. She'd learned enough about Dillon to know that even when he was angry he was still polite and there was nothing polite in his tone now. For him to behave this way, something had to really be eating at him. "Let go, Dillon. Don't make this ugly. Please."
"I don't like this game." He released her and held up both hands like a man with a gun to his back. "People aren't supposed to want to hurt or kill me. I'm just a football coach."
He felt for the arm of a wingchair and flopped down in it, putting his elbows on his knees and then lowering his head into his hands. "I'm a fucking high school football coach. Fuck."
Josie didn't know what to say, but she heard the pain in his voice. She took a knee in front of him. "A football coach who took a team to State his first season. That's something to be proud of."
He nodded and after a long pause looked at her. "I played, you know. Pro."
"I know."
"You do?"
"Yes. Your average season was a 11-8 record. Your first full season, you completed 67.4 percent of your passes for 4,763 yards, 36 touchdowns and 17 interceptions with a 95.7 quarterback rating. You set the single-season touchdown passes record your second year with 51 and owned the single-season passing yards record the same year. Had you not been injured, it was predicted you'd surpass Brady and Manning by a huge margin before your fourth year."
Josie smiled at the look of surprise on his face. "How did you know all that?"
"Are you kidding? I love the game and you were the quarterback. Hell, I used to joke that one day I was going to catch one of your passes, and not on the field."
"I'm not that man anymore." He looked down again and her heart ached for him. How difficult had it been, to go from the shining star of the NFL to high school football coach? How much of his ego had to be left in the operating room and on the floor of the rehab centers?
"No, you're more now." She put her hand on his knee and when he looked at her, continued. "It takes more guts and—and pluck, than most people can imagine, to go throu
gh what you did and rise above it. They said you'd never walk, but you did. And they said you'd never run, but you did that too. And you can still throw a freaking bomb and you know the game in a way few ever do.
"You're a hell of a good coach, Dillon and I happen to know something about that, because I grew up watching and learning from one of the best. So, don't think that life took everything from you. It kicked the fuck out of you, stomped you nearly to death and dared you to get up, but you did. You didn't let it beat you and so what that you're no longer on the gridiron? You were. You had it all. Now it's someone else's chance.
"And maybe that someone else will be one of those young men you coach. You're touching lives here, Dillon and that's no small thing, so be proud of what you've accomplished and overcome and don't think for a minute that you're less because that's just not true."
"You wanted to catch a pass?" He asked with a hint of his typical charm breaking through.
"Me and several million other women, so don't let it go to your head, Coach."
"I'll try."
"Good. I'm going to bed now. I have a feeling by morning I'll have your uncle and father blowing up my phone, wanting details on tonight."
She gave his knee a squeeze and started to stand. He caught her hand and stood to face her. "I should have thanked you."
"For what?"
"What you did tonight at the Honky Tonk. It's not lost on me that you put yourself in harm's way for me."
"It's my job, remember?"
"Is that all it is, Josie?"
With no time to consider the best response, she answered with simple honesty. "It's supposed to be. You don't make it easy, Dillon, but I'm trying."
"I guess I'll take that as flattery."
Josie smiled. "Just please, don't make it any harder. There's already been one threat. We can't discount the possibility there will be another and I have to be on my toes."
"So, you can't be on your toes if there's more than just a job between us?"
"I don't know to be honest. I've never been involved with someone I've been hired to protect."
"And you don't want to be?"
"I wouldn't say that."
"Okay, I can live with that. For now."
She nodded. "Good night, Dillon."
"Good night Josie." He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. "Sleep well."
"You too." She hurried upstairs, closed her bedroom door and leaned back against it. Dillon was getting to her, and she didn't know how to stop that. Josie feared that if she allowed her feelings and her desire for him to take control, she'd compromise her ability to keep him safe.
She couldn't let that happen. So, she'd get a shower, change and once she was sure he was in his room, she'd take her pillow and her gun and make herself comfortable on the couch where she had a view of the front door, the hallway to his room and the kitchen. She'd be the man on the wall tonight, just like every night, until she was told to stand down.
And then? She had no clue.
Chapter Eight
Dillon was awake long before dawn. He couldn't get last night out of his mind. Now that he'd had time to process everything, he'd come to some conclusions. First, Josie wasn't just some chick pretending to be a bad ass. She was a trained professional who'd been hired to protect him, and last night she just might have saved him from, at the least, getting his ass kicked.
Second, she'd known all along he played pro ball and more importantly, she'd had at least an interest in him, as evidenced by her comment on catching a pass from him, and what she said about him making it hard to keep things professional.
He'd told himself probably a hundred times since this whole things started that he wasn't attracted to her, had no interest in being involved with her and that any attention he gave her was just an act. Now that he'd had five long hours of sleepless self-examination, he was able to admit the truth.
He was attracted and wanted her to be attracted to him. Dillon hated lies and deception and didn't want to play games. Because of that, and because his father had raised him to live by the dictates of his conscience, he'd made up his mind that starting today, he wasn't going to pretend and was going to let Josie know.
The problem he faced now, as he poured his third cup of coffee was that his gut had a case of pre-game jitters.
"You look serious."
"Shit!" Coffee sloshed over the rim of his cup and onto the countertop.
"Oops, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you." Josie hurried to grab the roll of paper-towels as Dillon set his cup on the counter. She ripped off a couple of sheets, handed them to him and then tore off more to help clean the spill.
"Everything okay?" She asked as she mopped up the mess.
"Yeah, fine." He gathered up the soaked paper-towels and deposited the mess into the trash can. That was when he finally noticed. She was wearing a pair of running shorts that rode her hips and a tight racer-back running top. "Going out?"
"For a run, yes. Want to join? Oh, sorry. Your knee. Wait, you have a bike, right?"
"Yeah."
"Okay, want to bike?"
"Actually, I'd like to have a conversation." Dillon looked over his shoulder at her as he rinsed his hands.
"All right." Josie took a seat at the table.
Once he'd dried his hands and topped off his coffee, Dillon sat beside her. "First, thank you. It doesn't go unnoticed or unappreciated that you put your life on the line every day to protect me."
"You're welcome but I'm just doing—"
"Stop. Don't tell me that again. I know why you were hired, and I know when you came here it was as a favor to my uncle and you had no feelings for me at all. But since then we've gotten to know one another, and unless I'm mistaken and reading things all wrong, have developed some—attraction for each other. Am I on target or totally off base here?"
Dillon noticed the way she clasped her hands together in her lap, and the way her posture straightened. She averted her gaze for a moment then looked directly at him. "No, you're not. To my shame, you're not."
"Your shame?"
"Yes. I was brought here as part of your protection detail, assigned a cover story and expected to fulfill my assignment. Developing feelings for you, whether it's respect, admiration, friendship or lust, isn't part of the playbook and I failed to keep it strictly business. If you want, I'll ask your uncle to have me replaced with—"
"No." The word seemed to jump out all on its own and he was a bit embarrassed. "I mean no, I don't want someone else. I want you."
"To remain as part of your protection detail, you mean?"
Well, there it was. The question that would determine where they went from here. His mind raced to consider the possible outcomes, much in the same way he'd calculate a strategy on the field. He could answer yes and she'd think his "want" was for her skills as an agent. They'd continue, but with her believing that any touch, compliment or sentiment that came from him was just an act.
Or, he could say that he wanted her outside the scope of her job. That had several likely outcomes. She might tell him he was barking up the wrong tree and either they keep it professional or she'd asked to be reassigned.
But finally, there was the possibility that he hadn't read things wrong at all, and she was just as attracted to him as he was to her.
Tick tock. Seconds rolled by.
"I mean I want you." Once the words were out, he almost regretted them out of fear he'd misjudged.
She'd imagined this moment, or one like it a hundred times, dreamed of hearing those words and not in one dream or imagining had it carried such a punch. Josie struggled for words. If she gave in to what she wanted, she'd be putting desire before responsibility and that went against the grain. But if she lied and pretended that she didn't have those feelings for him, she was quite certain he'd take the rejection and never look back when he walked away.
Damn it all, either way she would lose. Or would she? A third possibility presented itself, and yes it was born of desire, but th
ere just might be worth to it. If she and Dillon really did become involved, then she'd not have to sleep on the sofa. She could sleep beside him and no one would get past her to harm him.
Was that just her way of justifying what she wanted? Possibly, but in all honesty, she'd not wanted a man the way she wanted Dillon since she fell in love with her husband and even that was different. They'd grown up together, been high school sweethearts. They were each other's first and there had been no others.
Now, she was a widow, a woman who'd known love and loss and a woman who knew the difference between empty desire and that which stems not just from the physical, but something deeper. And that was what she felt for Dillon. At least she thought it was.
So, for the first time in her career, she opted for what she wanted.
"And I want you."
"Are you sure about that?"
The question threw her for a loop. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because you've probably read all about me, the fodder from the gossip rags, stories from women. Your dossier."
"Oh, you mean the rumors of kinky sex? I discounted that as gossip, things said to garner attention."
"I see."
"That stuff wasn't true, right?"
"No. Mostly, it wasn't true."
Now, she was starting to feel apprehension sneaking in. "Mostly? Okay, so just spit it out, Dillon. What it is you're into that you think might send me running?"
He smiled and there was something untamed in his expression. "I like spanking."
What the hell? Why had a thrill shot right through her to take residence between her legs? "Giving or receiving."
"Giving."
"I see and you'd want to... you know?"
"I would. I do. So, let me ask again. Are you sure you want me, Josie?"
To her consternation she had to clear her throat to dispel the sudden tightness. "Yes."
"Prove it."
"Excuse me?" Why the challenge and why was it exciting her so damn much?
"Prove it. If you want me, go into my room, take off your clothes and bend over with your forearms on the mattress. I'll join you in five minutes."